HEAVY TYPE:
Lleyrew'sThe Return to Khayr ad-Din
Weryell absently scratched his chin as he watched Scruffy dig through a towering pile of trash in the Heaps. The little urchin had already found a new set of Dirty Rags, and was actively seeking a Stick to accompany them. Weryell tensed with some apprehension as the little child wiggled between two twisted sheets of steel and vanished into the pile.
He was perched atop his Hunter's new right arm, watching his men relax after a hard mission. Actually, the new arm formerly belonged to Jager, and Weryell was having trouble keeping a stable seat on the rounded armor. After the battle, Yenlar and Mungzilla had rushed to pull the intact arm off of the otherwise demolished gear, skillfully replacing it with the Speat tin arm Weryell had been using prior to the mission. Needless to say, they collected their pay and scooted before the Paxton boys could sift through the salvage. Luckily, Miss Sandy had been waiting in the Camel with Ashe, and probably didn't even notice the new arm.
Sadly, the Hunter's left knee plate had gotten sheared off the next day when Weryell had tripped on a buried oasis tower.
The company leader scratched his chin again, commenting aloud how much his chin and the boy had in common: "Scruffy..."
A moment later the urchin reappeared, a wide smile on his dirty face.
"Weryell! There's a gear in here! A whole one!"
Mungzilla and Yenlar both jumped to their feet, each wielding two 9mm rifles to keep the trashers at bay. It was amazing how fast those guys appeared when someone found something. Weryell sighed, wishing that the team mascot wasn't so damn loud when he discovered good stuff. At least Yenlar would have something to drive, as his old Grizzly, actually a Basilisk with Grizzly armor bolted on, had finally bit it in the last battle. A Spit pilot had needlessly spent 32 rockets making sure the Basilisk was put to rest. Joe had promply bent his autocannon smashing the Spit's head with the barrel and gave Ashe, who drove the Camel which carried the Basilisk/Grizzly, time to get away.
With a practiced nod, Joe revved up his battered Jaguar and began hauling the trash away, Scruffy included. The trashers, cowering behind one another in a mob 'oooh'ed and 'aahh'ed as the buried gear was uncovered.
Yenlar's shoulders sagged as he looked up at Weryell, practically spitting out the word: "Anolis."
Yes, the buried gear was an Anolis. No wonder no one had ever bothered to haul it out of there. But then something attached to the gear caught Yenlar's eye.
"Heavy grenade launcher! That baby's got a heavy grenade launcher!!"
Unfortunately a few of the trashers moved in to get a look, and Mungzilla spent no time gunning them down.
Weryell sighed.
"Dammit Mungzilla, what have I told you about killing unarmed targets?"
Mungzilla blinked up at him, scratching his nose with one of his rifle's barrels.
"Uhh... to use my chainsaw instead?"
Weryell nodded.
"Now go see if those guys have anything useful in their pockets."
The rest of the trashers vanished into the Heaps like cockroaches.
A few hours later, Yenlar was busy repainting the Anolis in the company's preferred color scheme, which mainly consisted of whichever paint was on sale at the time. Weryell had visited the Trasher Queen's chop shop, and bought a few replacement cerachips as well as the Anolis Technical Manual, volume one and two. Munzilla had managed to sniff out a few Speat tins and was busy trying to open the last of them with his teeth. Joe had gone into the Core and hadn't returned yet, Weryell assumed he was reliving his glory days at the Web Arena. As for Ashe, he was occupying his time sketching all the aircraft he would never be able to fly, lamenting on his poor choice of vocation.
Miss Sandy politely rapped her knuckles on Weryell's Hunter's leg, pulling him out of meditation. She blinked up at him, smiling sweetly.
"Do you like my new haircut?"
Not surprisingly, Sandy was a sandy blonde. Weryell was at least thankful she didn't have a grainy voice.
"Its uhh.. nice."
Before he was able to embarass himself further, Joe cut in over the com.
"Hey guys! Come on into town, there's a party going on and we've been invited!"
Weryell nearly fell off his gear. He didn't think Joe held any clout with the Khayr ad-Din duelists anymore, but sure enough he had gotten them invited to a party. Weryell had always wondered what the inside of the Sand Stone looked like, and maybe tonight he would be able to meet Solitaire and get his name in good with the Desert Wolves.
The rest of the guys hurredly packed up their things, draped the camo netting over their vehicles and assembled before Weryell, armed to the teeth. Yenlar had opted to say behind and clean up his new gear.
"Guys, this is a party. We won't ned more than three guns each."
Mungzilla sighed loudly, stomping as he trudged back to his Black Mamba to store the majority of his weapons.
It turned out the party wasn't at the Sand Stone at all, but at some place in the Pit called "Allusion Fields". Weryell figured he was the only one present who even knew what an allusion was, and even he didn't see what the allusion was to. Yenlar had bluntly stated at the door, "Allusion Fields. Hmm, sounds like a nice place."
The place was a dive. All the has-been duelists and small-time crime lords had gathered into one stinking little bar to celebrate the days that once were. When the rest of the company had arrived, Joe was busy talking to three of the less-discriminating duelist groupies, actively explaining the drug-related accident which had led up to his wearing an eyepatch, and leaving the dueling circuit. Weryell wondered briefly what Silver was up to these days, and if she was still blinding her opponents with Strat needles the night before a match.
Yenlar's voice crackled over the com, barely audible over the horribly loud music.
"Uhh, Weryell? Come back to base, we have a problem..."
[Lleyrew]
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