Cat On A Cold Rusty Roof (to be continued)

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« on: (01:45:35/05-21-13) »
Slugface was smarter than the average Barrens orc. Smarter not by means of pure intelligence, but by means of raw, often brutal cunning that would get one far on the mean streets of Seattle.

Sometimes that would get one as far as the nearest devil rat-infested gutter.

The gutter ran on one side of the abandoned parking lot, where the remains of Slugface's gang were being eliminated in a thorough and efficient manner. The lot was surrounded by a crumbling concrete wall, rusted razorwire running along its top. Even if the wall weren't too tall to jump without some heavy chrome or mojo, the razorwire would have served as a sufficient deterrent for anyone trying to enter - or exit - the parking lot by any way other than the front gate.

That is why, when a pickup truck burst through the gate, and the machine gun mounted in its bed started strafing the parking lot, Slugface headed straight for the gutter.

Being smarter than the average Barrens orc, Slugface knew when to cut and run.

Thruth be told, he should have known that before agreeing to go through with that one last deal. But... getting a briefcase full of dope... For free!.. And, even being paid to distribute it!.. That was a deal too good not to jump on, and to hell with any catches that may have come with it.

And it always worked so smoothly. The Azzie would show up, with his sharp pinstriped suit and his million-nuyen grin, with his briefcase and his credstick, and with that bodyguard bitch. He would put the briefcase on the ground, put the credstick on it, and step back. The bitch would stare at Slugface as he stepped forward, picked up the briefcase, pocketed the credstick, and left.

The bitch always creeped Slugface out. Not just because she had those cat ears on top of her head, or the tail sticking from underneath her skirt. Slugface had seen enough SURGE-freaks and bodymod-junkies to be surprised by that. It was the way she always looked at Slugface, as if daring him to twitch in a way that would give her an excuse to slash her manicured nails across his jugular, spraying his blood all over her expensive business suit.

Except that never happened. Being smarter than the average Barrens orc, Slugface knew to be extra careful around the bitch. So, the deals went nice and smooth every time.

Until that damn truck showed up.

And now, Slugface crawled through the gutter mud, muttering curses every time a bullet whizzed over his arse. Five more meters of crawling face-down through the reeking ooze, and he'd get to the drain pipe that connected the gutter to the sewers. He would disappear in the tunnels, emerge a couple of dozen blocks away, and lay low for a while. Good thing he managed to grab the Azzie's credstick, and stuff it in the pocket of his armored jacket as he dived for the gutter. The nuyen on it was enough so that once the heat died out, he would be able to get a fake ID, rent a nice place, and never have to eat anything pulled out of a dumpster ever again.

Being smarter that the average Barrens orc, Slugface always liked to have an exit strategy.

The drain pipe was now right before him. A devil rat sat on its lip, staring at Slugface with beady red eyes. It bared its fangs, almost as if it was grinning mockingly at him. Slugface cursed again, and tossed a handful of mud at the rodent. The devil rat skittered deeper into the pipe, out of sight. Slugface grunted, and followed its example.

Back at the parking lot, the sounds of gunfire were briefly interrupted by a couple of screams, and by the sound of the pickup's engine revving up. Shortly, the noise of gunfire and the engine were fading - the truck must have moved off, maybe chased away by something. Slugface grinned, and crawled faster.

After a few meters, he was stuck. His armored jacket got caught on some jagged edge inside the pipe. Slugface cursed more enthusiastically this time, and clawed at the jack trying to dislodge himself. He only succeeded in getting himself caught on more rusty metal, and tearing the pocket with the Azzie's credstick in the process. The chip slid right past his hand, into the darkness of the sewer. There was a plop as it landed in some unseen pool.

Almost immediately, a skittering noise came from down the pipe, and a scraping sound of many tiny claws on metal. The devil rat returned, scampering through the pipe towards Slugface. It sat on its haunches right in front of him, its red eyes glowing. This time, Slugface was sure the rat was grinning at him.

A dozen pairs of beady red eyes glowed in the darkness behind it.

Slugface knew exactly what that meant. After all, he was smarter than the average Barrens orc.

"Was" was just the right word for it.

(This is intended as a prologue to a mission I'm designing. If I get around to, I'll fictionalize the rest of it.)
"If you are expecting a rousing speech, or a cunning plan that will get us out of this, I will have to disappoint you. I don't have any. We either do this, or we die. And the world dies with us."
"I paid quite a lot to get all of you here. I expect you to give me my money's worth. Shogun out."


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« Reply #1 on: (17:09:21/05-30-15) »
Nice piece! Poor sob… I'm sure "Devil-Rats' happy meal" isn't the best way to go out...