G
Gunslinger
Guest
Caleb watched Grim storm off, impassive yet understanding completely. Young blood tended to burn in their veins. He was not surprised to see the bounty hunter storm off to get his share of heads. The Blade was tempted, himself, to join Grim but stayed his wrath, even though he did not really appreciate getting shot at. At times, Blades had to be think tanks and not gunslingers.
He turned around to face Rogue and Fang. Caleb did not have a way with words, finding that bullets made easier replies. Grim had summed up pretty much what he had felt. And he did not feel like making a grand speech today.
The old Blade took off his wide-brimmed sombrero and said, “Well, I guess I’m bailing out too, folks. Good-bye.” He donned his hat again and started for his room to pick up his gear.
Fang did not look surprised. Rather, he was still fuming over Grim’s harsh words. He only looked up and said, “Go then, Blade. There are other fights to fight besides these.” The Slayer also turned away and left the room.
Caleb nodded and left. He turned his back to the pair and walked to his room.
“Wait!” cried out Rogue.
Caleb turned around, his shoulders silhouetted in the hallway. He waited as the girl Rogue rushed towards him, a frantic and pleading look on her face. The gunslinger braced himself for a tantrum.
Rogue caught up to him, her face becoming distorted into an agonized look. She bent over, her hands clasping her knees as she caught her breath. Caleb waited patiently.
Finally, Rogue raised her head and skewered Caleb with a look of pure spite. “You’re leaving? Just like that, and you leave!” She clasped both hands to her forehead as if a major headache threatened to burst her skull in half.
Caleb shrugged indifferently. “You didn’t seem so pained when you left me at the warehouse with the raiders.”
The girl choked back a cry of shock. She lowered her hands from her head and shouted, “But that was different! I couldn’t have taken all those men by myself! Even with Grim’s help, it was a disaster.”
Caleb grunted noncommittally and began walking back to his room. The girl followed.
As he pulled open the door to his room and walked in, he felt Rogue fuming inside. The Blade proceeded to the shelves next to his bunk where he began depositing his gear into a knapsack.
As he packed, Rogue paced back and forth, scraping her boots across carpet. Finally, she stopped and shrieked, “I can’t believe you’re doing this! We’ve just formed our quartet and you’re leaving! It’s bad enough that Grim’s going, but now you? How can you be so…so…selfish!”
Caleb finished throwing in all his supplies into the knapsack. He slung the Mauser’s strap across his chest and stuffed the shotgun into the knapsack, snapping its leather straps closed. Finally, he turned towards Rogue leisurely and merely said, “I gotta go, Rogue. I’m fighting for lives here.” He opened the door and was about to leave when Rogue’s imploring hand closed upon his shoulder and stopped him.
The girl stared into Caleb’s eyes with desperation. “I’m fighting for lives here, too! I don’t give a shitload for all this trouble with raiders and mass conspiracy. All I want to do is find my family, and I’m willing to fight for them!”
Caleb gently shrugged Rogue’s hand off his shoulder. He replied softly, “Then you’ll understand that I must save my brothers, first.” He turned away and walked out of the door, leaving Rogue behind.
The Blade journeyed around the ghoul encampment. All around him, he saw warrior ghouls rushing back and forth around the tunnels with weaponry at hand. He saw that most of the base was being dismantled and felt, rather than saw, a growing feeling of dismay. Caleb felt sorry for the ghouls.
Finally, Caleb made it to the center of the encampment where Wally and Patch sat glumly. A medical kit was in Wally’s hand and Patch was grimly slipping a drum magazine into a Thompson submachine gun. Caleb walked up to them with a mournful look in his eyes.
The Blade coughed into his hands before saying, “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. I didn’t mean for the raiders to follow me.”
Wally waved away the apology with almost casual indifference. “Relax, old boy. It was a gamble we made in the first place when we brought you to us. The raiders would have come regardless, with Tabis annexed now.”
Patch stood up as he slipped on a breastplate of battered and mended steel plates. The Tommy gun never left his right hand as he used his other hand to snap on the clasps of the steel armor. As he did this, Patch asked, “So you’re really leaving then?”
Caleb nodded. “I really have to, guys. If my brotherhood wasn’t in trouble, I’d stay and help you out.” Lamely, he said, “I’ll kill as many raiders as I can along the way.” Taking a look around the dismantling base and the scare amount of guards rushing about, Caleb asked, “Are you gunna be okay?”
Patch nodded easily. “Some of the Slayers Fang brought with him are planning to stay and help us fight off the raiders. They pack heavy guns, you know.” And with a certain amount of pride, Patch said, “Besides, the ghouls have always found a way to survive. We’re nature’s new and improved cockroaches.”
Both Wally and Patch laughed at the inside joke.
“If you’re sure then…” trailed on Caleb, lingering to see if the ghouls could truly handle themselves.
“Don’t worry about us, Caleb,” said Patch. “If you’re planning to slip out of Tabis, you should be worrying about yourself.”
Caleb paused to think about that. With raiders swarming the town and the commanders set on high alert for a gunslinger Blade, escaping would not be an easy task. Good thing, thought Caleb, I brought more than enough ammunition.
“You know, I can lead you out,” offered Patch, offhandedly.
Caleb raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that? Wont’ you guys need all the help you can get against the raiders?”
Patched squawked with laughter. With mirthful tears in his eyes, Patch replied, “Are you kidding? We’ve got a few Slayers in POWER ARMOR to help us out! The Slayers are taking up the front ranks and us ghouls will be scrambling to evacuate the base with every precious second.” He raised the Thompson and patted it fondly. “I won’t be getting a chance to use old Tommy here.”
The Blade shrugged. “Then I guess I can use all the help I can use, Patch.”
Wally also stood up and proclaimed, “If Patch is coming along, then I’m coming too. You never know when you might need someone to patch up a bullet wound.”
Caleb appraised Wally with a critical eye. “We’re going into a fire zone and I can’t have anyone lagging us.”
Wally calmly reached into his doctor’s bag and pulled out a Glock handgun. “I can take care of myself, cowboy.”
Caleb nodded, seeing that both the ghouls would be armed. “Alright then, let’s go.”
The trio left the ghoul encampment after wishing the Slayers and the rest of the ghouls luck and went into the sewers.
Patch led them for nearly a mile into the sewers, a butane lighter for a torch. All the while, Caleb kept looking behind him for any skulking enemies. Especially the ape of a man dressed in the business suit, shades, and gloves who had shot at him earlier. He knew that the assassin would literally leap at the chance to rip him to shreds.
Finally, Patch led them to a ladder leading up to a manhole off to the side of a sewage tunnel. He rose on finger to his lips for silence and gestured them over to the ladder.
“This manhole,” Patch whispered into the darkness, “will lead us to Tabis’ water treatment facility where all sewage gets filtered. From there, we can pitch over Tabis’ walls.”
Caleb nodded and pulled out one of his revolvers. Wally slung his doctors bag onto his shoulder and grasped the Glock’s handgrip with both hands. With a hand resting on the ladder and the other on his Thompson, Patch whispered, “We’ll have to be careful, though. The water facility also contains the town’s water resevoir and the raiders may have set up guard duty to control the vital resource.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did,” muttered Caleb in disgust.
Patch began climbing the ladder and pushed away the manhole, crawling onto the surface. Wally came next with Caleb following behind them.
The trio climbed out of the sewers and Patch hastily slipped the manhole closed. Caleb looked about the water treatment facility and saw a literal maze of pipes, water reservoirs, and ladders placed all over the place.
Patch hastily rushed into the shadows of an outcropping pipe, urging Caleb and Wally along with frantic hand motions. They hurried into the safety of the shadows.
Caleb was glad that he had brought Patch along for he was a natural soldier. The ghoul was silent in his work and he had excellent vision, almost rivaling Caleb’s.
They huddled into the shadows and Patch tapped Caleb’s shoulder and pointed towards the left. Caleb turned towards that direction and saw a raider guard patrolling the upper tier of the facility. The guard’s head scanned about the place and Caleb did not see any cover they could hide behind. Silently, under his breath, the Blade cursed.
Patch was the one who found a solution. He handed Wally his Thompson, taking the smaller Glock handgun from Wally. The ghoul soldier took out a silencer and screwed it onto the Glock’s threaded barrel. He then pointed to the raider and made a cutting motion across his own neck. Patch then pointed to Wally and Caleb and held up both hands, motioning downwards.
Caleb nodded, understanding what Patch meant. They were to shut up and stay put as Patch took down the guard with silence. Caleb drew his other revolver just in case.
Patch slinked away the minute the guard’s head was turned away. Caleb watched as Patch pressed his back against a water tank, his head peaking slightly over a valve. For a long minute, both Wally and Caleb held their breaths as Patch scurried up a ladder towards the same level as the guard was on.
The ghoul hunched low to the ground, shrouding himself in shadows and darkness. Surgically, with great care, Patch pointed the Glock at the guard and fired a muffled shot. The bullet caught the raider in the throat and he went down.
Caleb exhaled deeply, realizing that he had been holding his breath. From the shadows, he motioned for Patch to get back. But the ghoul only shook his head. He pointed to the corpse of the dead raider and made a pulling motion. With that, Patch scurried out of Caleb’s view as he made his way towards the body.
“What’s he doing?” hissed Wally from the shadows. He shuffled from one foot to the other in anxiety.
“He’s gotta hide the body,” whispered Caleb. “If the other guards see it, our cover’s blown.”
Just as Caleb finished those words, he heard a boom of gunfire and frantic rushing of feet. Both Wally and the Blade turned around to see Patch running towards them from the second level, three guards chasing after him with hunting rifles.
Patch turned around as he ran, returning fire at the three guards. All of his shots flew wide and the raiders took heart by opening fire. There was a dry crackle of fire as three rounds fired simultaneously. One round glanced off Patch’s breastplate and the other two came perilously close.
As Patch ran back to safety, Caleb leapt out of the shadows. The three raiders slammed to a halt in surprise, seeing a giant man leveling two revolvers at them. Caleb strafed to the right as he opened fire. Most of the shots flew close but never hit. The three raiders huddled behind hand guards and railings as Caleb’s Colts ricocheted off steel and threw sparks about.
While this was happening, Patch bailed over the second level’s railing in desperation. Fortunately, Wally, who was standing directly underneath him, broke Patch’s fall. The two ghouls fell down in a lump of writhing limbs.
Caleb had run out of ammo by the time this had happened. The old Blade was in the middle of reloading his guns while running towards cover when the three guards leaned over the rails and fired their rifles. The light .22 rounds may not have been able to pierce Patch’s breastplate but they had no trouble cutting throw a venting pipe behind Caleb. Violent, blazing steam wafted from the burst pipe, engulfing Caleb in incendiary fumes. Caleb cursed as he dropped both of his guns and dived low to the ground.
Patch, seeing this, pushed Wally off of him and retrieved his Tommy gun. He bared his teeth as he brought the awesome submachine gun to bear against the raiders. The tried and trusted Thompson roared a dull clat-clat-clat as the massive .45 caliber bullets exited the muzzle in a blinding flash. Patch’s teeth rattled as the recoil in the gun reverberated up his arms but he kept the rain of fire concentrated.
From above, the three raider’s bodies jostled and shuddered as the Tommy gun’s bullets ripped into their supple flesh. The bullets burst threw their bodies, leaving gaping exit wounds and splattering blood about the place. The raider’s bodies mimicked that of ragdolls as the flesh and meat was torn away from their limbs.
Patch didn’t stop firing until the fifty-round drum of his Thompson was empty. He stripped the empty magazine from the chamber and feed in a fresh one. Wally, who had had his hands cupped over his ears, lowered them to collect his silenced Glock. Meanwhile, Caleb crawled free from the fiery hot steam. His flesh was violently red and wrinkled but no worse off for wear. Patch helped up to his feet and collected his revolvers for him.
“So much for stealth,” muttered Patch with his arm supporting Caleb. “Let’s get moving before the rest of the guards come.”
They scurried through the maze of pipes with Patch’s mental compass leading them. Every once and a while they would turn a corner and find a few raiders waiting for them. And once again, Patch’s Thompson roared and bodies disintegrated.
Patch finally brought them out of the maze of pipes and to a steel-wired fence. The Thompson was burning hot in Patch’s hands now and only a clip remained. Wally’s Glock was still fresh and Caleb had brought out the double-barrel shotgun for the close wetwork.
Patch pointed to the steel fence and the wastelands waiting outside. “Keep moving!” he shouted in jubilation. “We’re almost there!”
Wally was ecstatic as his lankly, long legs carried them closer to escape. “Those fools, those fools!” he cried. “I can’t believe we made it out so easily!”
And as those words exited his mouth, a manhole directly in front of the trio’s path busted open and a dark shadow leapt free. The giant of a man who crawled free was dressed in a tattered suit covered in muck. He smiled ferociously as two knives materialized into his hands.
Mandrake.
Patch, who had been taking point, dropped to a knee and began bursting with his Tommy gun. Mandrake threw himself to the right, making fancy footwork. The warrior ghoul spread the Thompson’s fire from left to right, trying vainly to trace his fire onto Mandrake.
Caleb came up from Mandrake’s right and took great care as he unloaded both barrels of his shotgun. Mandrake seemed to be shielded in an aura of luck for the tiny balls buckshot sprayed all over the place, all of them missing the assassin. Caleb cursed, dropping his shotgun and whipping both revolvers out of his holsters.
Wally awoke from his state of stunned shock and began firing his Glock. The silenced rounds bounced off steel pipes and did little against Mandrake.
The combined fire of Caleb’s two Peacemakers, Patch’s Thompson, and Wally’s Glock was not enough to nail Mandrake. The giant assassin moved gracefully, seeming to be on step ahead of the bullets. He backpedaled until his back was against some pipes and then executed a high jump, using the pipes as leverage.
In mid-air, he whirled one of his knives so that the tip of was clenched between forefingers and thumb. With an almost casual ease, Mandrake whipped his wrists and flung the knife at the immobile form of Patch. The honed edge of the combat knife, fueled with Mandrake’s muscle, tore past Patch’s breastplate and embedded itself into the ghoul’s right shoulder. Patch roared in pain, falling to his back, and the Thompson flew out of his hands.
Mandrake chuckled mirthlessly as he landed into the midst of the trio. He jabbed his knife startling quickly at Caleb and the old Blade had to lunge out of the way instead of firing his guns. Wally saw this happening and had leveled his gun at the assassin’s head when Mandrake pumped his elbow brutally backwards into Wally’s face. The ghoul cried out as his nose was broken. For good measure, Mandrake swept his underneath Wally’s, tripping over the doctor ghoul.
With Wally down, the assassin turned his attention back towards Caleb. “Fresh meat!” his hungry voice intoned as he lunged at the old Blade with a gleaming knife.
Caleb cinched his elbow around Mandrake’s thrusting arm and used the assassin’s momentum to throw him off balance. The Blade was about to fire when Mandrake leapt up, quickly recovering, and drove the heel of his palm into Caleb’s chin. The Blade’s head lurched upwards and his vision filled with crimson before the assassin began pummeling his exposed and unprotected chest.
Caleb fell backwards, buckling underneath the flurry of blows. His lungs ached for air and he spat out a wad of blood. Still on the ground, Caleb attempted to aim his revolver but Mandrake kicked them out of his hands, crushing his fingers underneath the heels of his shoe. Caleb groaned in pain, a gurgle of blood beginning to forth from his throat. He winced as he saw Mandrake drawing back his arm to drive the knife into his chest.
The old Blade prepared to relinquish his soul from its mortal body. The end was coming.
But the knife never drove forward for Mandrake had gotten sloppy. The assassin had spent an entire restless night and day in the sewers, hunting ghouls. Even powerful assassins got tired and fatigue was sinking into his bones. When he had elbowed Wally, he had naturally assumed that the ghoul would be knocked out. He assumed wrong.
From the ground, besides the screaming form of Patch, Wally shook his head clear of stars and focused onto the scene of Mandrake poised above Caleb with knife in hand. It took all of the ghoul’s remaining strength just to raise his Glock at Mandrake and pull the trigger.
The Glock’s round slammed into Mandrake’s shoulder and Caleb saw the assassin’s face light up in shock before the giant of a man tumbled on top of him.
Caleb kicked Mandrake’s body off of him. The assassin rolled away free and landed in a crouch, with his wounded arm held close to his body. Caleb stood up and marched over to the assassin. He pointed his revolver and thumbed back its hammer.
Click.
The wounded assassin looked up into the gaping mineshaft barrel of Caleb’s revolver. He forced his view off of the gun and looked into the triumphant and bloodied face of the old Blade leering at him.
Caleb was prepared for anything. He thought the assassin would either accept death or either beg for mercy. What the assassin actually did threw Caleb completely off.
Mandrake drew back his lips and began a deep chuckle. The laugh ended in a roar as he suddenly whipped his remaining knife at Patch.
The movement was stunningly fast, too fast for Caleb to stop. The knife soared through the empty space, the air in between screeching as the knife cut through it. Finally, the steel tip of the blade sank into Patch’s eye with a meaty thunk. The ghoul stopped screaming from his previous wound and fell over, dead before he could register.
Both Caleb and Wally screamed, “No!” as Patch’s limp body fell listlessly over. The Blade and the ghoul turned back to Mandrake and were about to open fire when they discovered that the assassin had disappeared into the shadows.
Wally knelt beside the body of Patch, running his hands over his pulse and neck frantically. Caleb shook his head mournfully. It was no use. The warrior ghoul had already passed.
“He’s dead,” whispered a stunned Wally, announcing the fact to the whole world rather than Caleb.
The gunslinger holstered his revolvers and slipped free his Blade mask. Gingerly, he placed the scarlet bandanna over Patch’s remaining staring eye. He knelt besides the body and whispered, “Mourn, kinsman, for we’ve lost one our own.” The Blade mantra, spoken during a fallen Blade’s funeral, was altogether fitting for Patch.
A scurry of frantic footsteps came rushing towards the ghoul and Blade. Caleb turned to Wally and shouted, “We must leave!”
Wally looked up from the dead body of his comrade and nodded morosely. He slipped into the manhole that Mandrake had just exited and was just about to replace its lid when Caleb said, “I’m sorry for your loss. If its any consolation, I promise to repay your loss tenfold to our enemies.”
Wally nodded numbly and closed the hatch of the manhole, disappearing back into the sewers.
Caleb took one last look at Patch’s dead body before climbing over the steel fence and escaping into the wastelands to save his brothers.
When the rest of the raider guards arrived at the scene, they only found the body of one dead ghoul and a few hundred spent casings from ammunition. The assassin who had slain the ghoul was nowhere to be seen.
He turned around to face Rogue and Fang. Caleb did not have a way with words, finding that bullets made easier replies. Grim had summed up pretty much what he had felt. And he did not feel like making a grand speech today.
The old Blade took off his wide-brimmed sombrero and said, “Well, I guess I’m bailing out too, folks. Good-bye.” He donned his hat again and started for his room to pick up his gear.
Fang did not look surprised. Rather, he was still fuming over Grim’s harsh words. He only looked up and said, “Go then, Blade. There are other fights to fight besides these.” The Slayer also turned away and left the room.
Caleb nodded and left. He turned his back to the pair and walked to his room.
“Wait!” cried out Rogue.
Caleb turned around, his shoulders silhouetted in the hallway. He waited as the girl Rogue rushed towards him, a frantic and pleading look on her face. The gunslinger braced himself for a tantrum.
Rogue caught up to him, her face becoming distorted into an agonized look. She bent over, her hands clasping her knees as she caught her breath. Caleb waited patiently.
Finally, Rogue raised her head and skewered Caleb with a look of pure spite. “You’re leaving? Just like that, and you leave!” She clasped both hands to her forehead as if a major headache threatened to burst her skull in half.
Caleb shrugged indifferently. “You didn’t seem so pained when you left me at the warehouse with the raiders.”
The girl choked back a cry of shock. She lowered her hands from her head and shouted, “But that was different! I couldn’t have taken all those men by myself! Even with Grim’s help, it was a disaster.”
Caleb grunted noncommittally and began walking back to his room. The girl followed.
As he pulled open the door to his room and walked in, he felt Rogue fuming inside. The Blade proceeded to the shelves next to his bunk where he began depositing his gear into a knapsack.
As he packed, Rogue paced back and forth, scraping her boots across carpet. Finally, she stopped and shrieked, “I can’t believe you’re doing this! We’ve just formed our quartet and you’re leaving! It’s bad enough that Grim’s going, but now you? How can you be so…so…selfish!”
Caleb finished throwing in all his supplies into the knapsack. He slung the Mauser’s strap across his chest and stuffed the shotgun into the knapsack, snapping its leather straps closed. Finally, he turned towards Rogue leisurely and merely said, “I gotta go, Rogue. I’m fighting for lives here.” He opened the door and was about to leave when Rogue’s imploring hand closed upon his shoulder and stopped him.
The girl stared into Caleb’s eyes with desperation. “I’m fighting for lives here, too! I don’t give a shitload for all this trouble with raiders and mass conspiracy. All I want to do is find my family, and I’m willing to fight for them!”
Caleb gently shrugged Rogue’s hand off his shoulder. He replied softly, “Then you’ll understand that I must save my brothers, first.” He turned away and walked out of the door, leaving Rogue behind.
The Blade journeyed around the ghoul encampment. All around him, he saw warrior ghouls rushing back and forth around the tunnels with weaponry at hand. He saw that most of the base was being dismantled and felt, rather than saw, a growing feeling of dismay. Caleb felt sorry for the ghouls.
Finally, Caleb made it to the center of the encampment where Wally and Patch sat glumly. A medical kit was in Wally’s hand and Patch was grimly slipping a drum magazine into a Thompson submachine gun. Caleb walked up to them with a mournful look in his eyes.
The Blade coughed into his hands before saying, “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. I didn’t mean for the raiders to follow me.”
Wally waved away the apology with almost casual indifference. “Relax, old boy. It was a gamble we made in the first place when we brought you to us. The raiders would have come regardless, with Tabis annexed now.”
Patch stood up as he slipped on a breastplate of battered and mended steel plates. The Tommy gun never left his right hand as he used his other hand to snap on the clasps of the steel armor. As he did this, Patch asked, “So you’re really leaving then?”
Caleb nodded. “I really have to, guys. If my brotherhood wasn’t in trouble, I’d stay and help you out.” Lamely, he said, “I’ll kill as many raiders as I can along the way.” Taking a look around the dismantling base and the scare amount of guards rushing about, Caleb asked, “Are you gunna be okay?”
Patch nodded easily. “Some of the Slayers Fang brought with him are planning to stay and help us fight off the raiders. They pack heavy guns, you know.” And with a certain amount of pride, Patch said, “Besides, the ghouls have always found a way to survive. We’re nature’s new and improved cockroaches.”
Both Wally and Patch laughed at the inside joke.
“If you’re sure then…” trailed on Caleb, lingering to see if the ghouls could truly handle themselves.
“Don’t worry about us, Caleb,” said Patch. “If you’re planning to slip out of Tabis, you should be worrying about yourself.”
Caleb paused to think about that. With raiders swarming the town and the commanders set on high alert for a gunslinger Blade, escaping would not be an easy task. Good thing, thought Caleb, I brought more than enough ammunition.
“You know, I can lead you out,” offered Patch, offhandedly.
Caleb raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that? Wont’ you guys need all the help you can get against the raiders?”
Patched squawked with laughter. With mirthful tears in his eyes, Patch replied, “Are you kidding? We’ve got a few Slayers in POWER ARMOR to help us out! The Slayers are taking up the front ranks and us ghouls will be scrambling to evacuate the base with every precious second.” He raised the Thompson and patted it fondly. “I won’t be getting a chance to use old Tommy here.”
The Blade shrugged. “Then I guess I can use all the help I can use, Patch.”
Wally also stood up and proclaimed, “If Patch is coming along, then I’m coming too. You never know when you might need someone to patch up a bullet wound.”
Caleb appraised Wally with a critical eye. “We’re going into a fire zone and I can’t have anyone lagging us.”
Wally calmly reached into his doctor’s bag and pulled out a Glock handgun. “I can take care of myself, cowboy.”
Caleb nodded, seeing that both the ghouls would be armed. “Alright then, let’s go.”
The trio left the ghoul encampment after wishing the Slayers and the rest of the ghouls luck and went into the sewers.
Patch led them for nearly a mile into the sewers, a butane lighter for a torch. All the while, Caleb kept looking behind him for any skulking enemies. Especially the ape of a man dressed in the business suit, shades, and gloves who had shot at him earlier. He knew that the assassin would literally leap at the chance to rip him to shreds.
Finally, Patch led them to a ladder leading up to a manhole off to the side of a sewage tunnel. He rose on finger to his lips for silence and gestured them over to the ladder.
“This manhole,” Patch whispered into the darkness, “will lead us to Tabis’ water treatment facility where all sewage gets filtered. From there, we can pitch over Tabis’ walls.”
Caleb nodded and pulled out one of his revolvers. Wally slung his doctors bag onto his shoulder and grasped the Glock’s handgrip with both hands. With a hand resting on the ladder and the other on his Thompson, Patch whispered, “We’ll have to be careful, though. The water facility also contains the town’s water resevoir and the raiders may have set up guard duty to control the vital resource.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did,” muttered Caleb in disgust.
Patch began climbing the ladder and pushed away the manhole, crawling onto the surface. Wally came next with Caleb following behind them.
The trio climbed out of the sewers and Patch hastily slipped the manhole closed. Caleb looked about the water treatment facility and saw a literal maze of pipes, water reservoirs, and ladders placed all over the place.
Patch hastily rushed into the shadows of an outcropping pipe, urging Caleb and Wally along with frantic hand motions. They hurried into the safety of the shadows.
Caleb was glad that he had brought Patch along for he was a natural soldier. The ghoul was silent in his work and he had excellent vision, almost rivaling Caleb’s.
They huddled into the shadows and Patch tapped Caleb’s shoulder and pointed towards the left. Caleb turned towards that direction and saw a raider guard patrolling the upper tier of the facility. The guard’s head scanned about the place and Caleb did not see any cover they could hide behind. Silently, under his breath, the Blade cursed.
Patch was the one who found a solution. He handed Wally his Thompson, taking the smaller Glock handgun from Wally. The ghoul soldier took out a silencer and screwed it onto the Glock’s threaded barrel. He then pointed to the raider and made a cutting motion across his own neck. Patch then pointed to Wally and Caleb and held up both hands, motioning downwards.
Caleb nodded, understanding what Patch meant. They were to shut up and stay put as Patch took down the guard with silence. Caleb drew his other revolver just in case.
Patch slinked away the minute the guard’s head was turned away. Caleb watched as Patch pressed his back against a water tank, his head peaking slightly over a valve. For a long minute, both Wally and Caleb held their breaths as Patch scurried up a ladder towards the same level as the guard was on.
The ghoul hunched low to the ground, shrouding himself in shadows and darkness. Surgically, with great care, Patch pointed the Glock at the guard and fired a muffled shot. The bullet caught the raider in the throat and he went down.
Caleb exhaled deeply, realizing that he had been holding his breath. From the shadows, he motioned for Patch to get back. But the ghoul only shook his head. He pointed to the corpse of the dead raider and made a pulling motion. With that, Patch scurried out of Caleb’s view as he made his way towards the body.
“What’s he doing?” hissed Wally from the shadows. He shuffled from one foot to the other in anxiety.
“He’s gotta hide the body,” whispered Caleb. “If the other guards see it, our cover’s blown.”
Just as Caleb finished those words, he heard a boom of gunfire and frantic rushing of feet. Both Wally and the Blade turned around to see Patch running towards them from the second level, three guards chasing after him with hunting rifles.
Patch turned around as he ran, returning fire at the three guards. All of his shots flew wide and the raiders took heart by opening fire. There was a dry crackle of fire as three rounds fired simultaneously. One round glanced off Patch’s breastplate and the other two came perilously close.
As Patch ran back to safety, Caleb leapt out of the shadows. The three raiders slammed to a halt in surprise, seeing a giant man leveling two revolvers at them. Caleb strafed to the right as he opened fire. Most of the shots flew close but never hit. The three raiders huddled behind hand guards and railings as Caleb’s Colts ricocheted off steel and threw sparks about.
While this was happening, Patch bailed over the second level’s railing in desperation. Fortunately, Wally, who was standing directly underneath him, broke Patch’s fall. The two ghouls fell down in a lump of writhing limbs.
Caleb had run out of ammo by the time this had happened. The old Blade was in the middle of reloading his guns while running towards cover when the three guards leaned over the rails and fired their rifles. The light .22 rounds may not have been able to pierce Patch’s breastplate but they had no trouble cutting throw a venting pipe behind Caleb. Violent, blazing steam wafted from the burst pipe, engulfing Caleb in incendiary fumes. Caleb cursed as he dropped both of his guns and dived low to the ground.
Patch, seeing this, pushed Wally off of him and retrieved his Tommy gun. He bared his teeth as he brought the awesome submachine gun to bear against the raiders. The tried and trusted Thompson roared a dull clat-clat-clat as the massive .45 caliber bullets exited the muzzle in a blinding flash. Patch’s teeth rattled as the recoil in the gun reverberated up his arms but he kept the rain of fire concentrated.
From above, the three raider’s bodies jostled and shuddered as the Tommy gun’s bullets ripped into their supple flesh. The bullets burst threw their bodies, leaving gaping exit wounds and splattering blood about the place. The raider’s bodies mimicked that of ragdolls as the flesh and meat was torn away from their limbs.
Patch didn’t stop firing until the fifty-round drum of his Thompson was empty. He stripped the empty magazine from the chamber and feed in a fresh one. Wally, who had had his hands cupped over his ears, lowered them to collect his silenced Glock. Meanwhile, Caleb crawled free from the fiery hot steam. His flesh was violently red and wrinkled but no worse off for wear. Patch helped up to his feet and collected his revolvers for him.
“So much for stealth,” muttered Patch with his arm supporting Caleb. “Let’s get moving before the rest of the guards come.”
They scurried through the maze of pipes with Patch’s mental compass leading them. Every once and a while they would turn a corner and find a few raiders waiting for them. And once again, Patch’s Thompson roared and bodies disintegrated.
Patch finally brought them out of the maze of pipes and to a steel-wired fence. The Thompson was burning hot in Patch’s hands now and only a clip remained. Wally’s Glock was still fresh and Caleb had brought out the double-barrel shotgun for the close wetwork.
Patch pointed to the steel fence and the wastelands waiting outside. “Keep moving!” he shouted in jubilation. “We’re almost there!”
Wally was ecstatic as his lankly, long legs carried them closer to escape. “Those fools, those fools!” he cried. “I can’t believe we made it out so easily!”
And as those words exited his mouth, a manhole directly in front of the trio’s path busted open and a dark shadow leapt free. The giant of a man who crawled free was dressed in a tattered suit covered in muck. He smiled ferociously as two knives materialized into his hands.
Mandrake.
Patch, who had been taking point, dropped to a knee and began bursting with his Tommy gun. Mandrake threw himself to the right, making fancy footwork. The warrior ghoul spread the Thompson’s fire from left to right, trying vainly to trace his fire onto Mandrake.
Caleb came up from Mandrake’s right and took great care as he unloaded both barrels of his shotgun. Mandrake seemed to be shielded in an aura of luck for the tiny balls buckshot sprayed all over the place, all of them missing the assassin. Caleb cursed, dropping his shotgun and whipping both revolvers out of his holsters.
Wally awoke from his state of stunned shock and began firing his Glock. The silenced rounds bounced off steel pipes and did little against Mandrake.
The combined fire of Caleb’s two Peacemakers, Patch’s Thompson, and Wally’s Glock was not enough to nail Mandrake. The giant assassin moved gracefully, seeming to be on step ahead of the bullets. He backpedaled until his back was against some pipes and then executed a high jump, using the pipes as leverage.
In mid-air, he whirled one of his knives so that the tip of was clenched between forefingers and thumb. With an almost casual ease, Mandrake whipped his wrists and flung the knife at the immobile form of Patch. The honed edge of the combat knife, fueled with Mandrake’s muscle, tore past Patch’s breastplate and embedded itself into the ghoul’s right shoulder. Patch roared in pain, falling to his back, and the Thompson flew out of his hands.
Mandrake chuckled mirthlessly as he landed into the midst of the trio. He jabbed his knife startling quickly at Caleb and the old Blade had to lunge out of the way instead of firing his guns. Wally saw this happening and had leveled his gun at the assassin’s head when Mandrake pumped his elbow brutally backwards into Wally’s face. The ghoul cried out as his nose was broken. For good measure, Mandrake swept his underneath Wally’s, tripping over the doctor ghoul.
With Wally down, the assassin turned his attention back towards Caleb. “Fresh meat!” his hungry voice intoned as he lunged at the old Blade with a gleaming knife.
Caleb cinched his elbow around Mandrake’s thrusting arm and used the assassin’s momentum to throw him off balance. The Blade was about to fire when Mandrake leapt up, quickly recovering, and drove the heel of his palm into Caleb’s chin. The Blade’s head lurched upwards and his vision filled with crimson before the assassin began pummeling his exposed and unprotected chest.
Caleb fell backwards, buckling underneath the flurry of blows. His lungs ached for air and he spat out a wad of blood. Still on the ground, Caleb attempted to aim his revolver but Mandrake kicked them out of his hands, crushing his fingers underneath the heels of his shoe. Caleb groaned in pain, a gurgle of blood beginning to forth from his throat. He winced as he saw Mandrake drawing back his arm to drive the knife into his chest.
The old Blade prepared to relinquish his soul from its mortal body. The end was coming.
But the knife never drove forward for Mandrake had gotten sloppy. The assassin had spent an entire restless night and day in the sewers, hunting ghouls. Even powerful assassins got tired and fatigue was sinking into his bones. When he had elbowed Wally, he had naturally assumed that the ghoul would be knocked out. He assumed wrong.
From the ground, besides the screaming form of Patch, Wally shook his head clear of stars and focused onto the scene of Mandrake poised above Caleb with knife in hand. It took all of the ghoul’s remaining strength just to raise his Glock at Mandrake and pull the trigger.
The Glock’s round slammed into Mandrake’s shoulder and Caleb saw the assassin’s face light up in shock before the giant of a man tumbled on top of him.
Caleb kicked Mandrake’s body off of him. The assassin rolled away free and landed in a crouch, with his wounded arm held close to his body. Caleb stood up and marched over to the assassin. He pointed his revolver and thumbed back its hammer.
Click.
The wounded assassin looked up into the gaping mineshaft barrel of Caleb’s revolver. He forced his view off of the gun and looked into the triumphant and bloodied face of the old Blade leering at him.
Caleb was prepared for anything. He thought the assassin would either accept death or either beg for mercy. What the assassin actually did threw Caleb completely off.
Mandrake drew back his lips and began a deep chuckle. The laugh ended in a roar as he suddenly whipped his remaining knife at Patch.
The movement was stunningly fast, too fast for Caleb to stop. The knife soared through the empty space, the air in between screeching as the knife cut through it. Finally, the steel tip of the blade sank into Patch’s eye with a meaty thunk. The ghoul stopped screaming from his previous wound and fell over, dead before he could register.
Both Caleb and Wally screamed, “No!” as Patch’s limp body fell listlessly over. The Blade and the ghoul turned back to Mandrake and were about to open fire when they discovered that the assassin had disappeared into the shadows.
Wally knelt beside the body of Patch, running his hands over his pulse and neck frantically. Caleb shook his head mournfully. It was no use. The warrior ghoul had already passed.
“He’s dead,” whispered a stunned Wally, announcing the fact to the whole world rather than Caleb.
The gunslinger holstered his revolvers and slipped free his Blade mask. Gingerly, he placed the scarlet bandanna over Patch’s remaining staring eye. He knelt besides the body and whispered, “Mourn, kinsman, for we’ve lost one our own.” The Blade mantra, spoken during a fallen Blade’s funeral, was altogether fitting for Patch.
A scurry of frantic footsteps came rushing towards the ghoul and Blade. Caleb turned to Wally and shouted, “We must leave!”
Wally looked up from the dead body of his comrade and nodded morosely. He slipped into the manhole that Mandrake had just exited and was just about to replace its lid when Caleb said, “I’m sorry for your loss. If its any consolation, I promise to repay your loss tenfold to our enemies.”
Wally nodded numbly and closed the hatch of the manhole, disappearing back into the sewers.
Caleb took one last look at Patch’s dead body before climbing over the steel fence and escaping into the wastelands to save his brothers.
When the rest of the raider guards arrived at the scene, they only found the body of one dead ghoul and a few hundred spent casings from ammunition. The assassin who had slain the ghoul was nowhere to be seen.
