Once we gained our composure, the posse started the "treasure hunt" so to speak. Various files on the doctor's "experiments" were found, as well as an old lap top computer. Most of us had no use for the old tech. Mr. Whothehellareyou! poked about with it for a few minutes, but didn't get far - the things internal batteries were apparently run down. Going through the Green Doomsayer remains in the hallway, Straight-Guns found some strange documents about a nuclear reactor in Paolo Verde, Arizona and came up with sort of I.D. pass card that didn't seem to have any use in the surgical theater or anywhere else on the level. I came across some interesting pharmaceuticals in a disused first aid kit. The first one I knew right away as being Brainblast, a Syker drug used by many of my brethren on Banshee. The other took me a bit longer to figure out. I suspected that it might be a drug called Ironman, your basic combat boosting drug, but the only way I could find out for sure was to take it (or have someone else take it) and see what happened. Needless to say I tucked both of them away with the dose of Axon I got off of a dead Apostate way back in Utah. While the looting commenced, Otto and the Papergirl, with Fallon's assistance, had seen to the task of moving the children to safety. Utilizing the rope from the shaft and some belts, they had trussed up a makeshift harness and were ferrying the children up one at a time. Straight-Guns and I decided to go up and keep an eye on them (especially Little C) just in case there were more nasties lurking about, and left the rest of the group to clean up, thinking things were well in hand.
Straight-guns went outside to check on the surrounding area for possible ambushes (while the rain and thunder continued to fall, the storm seemed to be letting up). That left Fran, the Firewalker, the Junker/musician/general waste of space and the Doomsayer behind. As the Doom Priest secured the last kid to be lifted out, the fireworks literally began. The first sound that I had heard was the unmistakable discharge of a Brainblast echoing from the corridor below around the opening of the elevator shaft. What followed next was a brief muffled argument between Fran and the musical Junker. There was no mistaking Fran's high pitched nasal droning for anyone else. The last kid barely made it up the shaft before the fire blast erupted upward from the hallway below. The streaking, energized form of the Doompriest almost seemed to be riding the blast up and out of the shaft, his robes set ablaze from the obvious Arson set off by Fran. We just got the kids out of the way of blast of fire that roared up the shaft. Thinking quickly, the Papergirl threw the wet lab coat from the janitor's closet over the burning Doomsayer's back, screaming at him to drop and roll, the fire already spreading to his limbs and hair. The Junker and the other Syker were still down in the basement with Fran. I immediately assumed the worst. The stupid bitch must've taken the drugs (several caps of peyote, I think) she had found on the dead Black Hats back in Wickenburg. That was enough for me. Not only was it strike three for setting off an Arson within the party, but as far as I was concerned, her actions nearly caused harm to come to Clem. As per my contract with Tanus, Fran's head was now mine to take. I was simply going to wait for her to stick her head into my line of sight and plant a fifty caliber kiss on her forehead. An extremely loud musical cacophony of sound temporarily rose above the roar of the crackling flames. Apparently Mr. Whothehellareyou! was giving Fran a private concert. Only time would tell if he survived long enough to take my kill from me. That was fine. I'd come to collect on him later, or a least that was what I thought.
Later I discovered that the Firewalker had other plans. While the two fought (while on fire I might add...stupid bastards), Hell had remembered that lights meant power, and that power on the level might mean that the fire system might still be operational. Having set up Fireproof on himself moments before Fran had gone ballistic, he wandered about through the flames until he found what looked to be an appropriate control panel. A few seconds of tinkering brought sprays of rusty, fowl smelling water from the ceilings of both levels and the fire started to wane. Having done what he could to remedy the first problem, he then returned to the arguing pair, only to discover the Junker busily trying to put the flames on himself out, a headless Fran at his feet. Looking down at the Junker's discarded guitar, he immediately raised his rifle and shot the instrument, shattering it to pieces. Apparently, the biker syker deemed it necessary to punish the Junker for initiating the whole hellish situation by breaking his toy (he figured with the vast amounts of components the Junker had gotten from the defeated Black Hats, he would be able to easily repair any damage he had done to the instrument of destruction). The Junker reacted as I would've expected - unreasonably and stupidly. Bellowing in rage at the damage done to the guitar, he tried to attack the Firewalker (who was armed with a fifty caliber weapon) with a knife...hell, it wasn't even a BIG knife.
Anyway. After the Firewalker marked off one bullet from his supply list and had quickly tossed both bodies for salvageable goods, he was confronted with the task of getting up the shaft. As the Firewalker went about his challenge and he gave us the aforementioned brief run down on what had just occurred in the corridor below, I went to inform our resident Law Dog of the situation. He immediately did an about-face back into the complex and I followed in suite. We were greeted with the sight of the Papergirl and Otto hauling the Firewalker out the shaft with another length of rope the Papergirl had stowed on her bike. After getting the official story from the Firewalker, Straight-Guns needed to check the bodies for his own peace of mind and proceeded down the shaft yet again. Before he reemerged, we went through the process of turning the place upside down for anything tradable. As Straight-Guns was coming back up, the Papergirl found several moldy files that seemed related to some sort of special Hellstromme Industries project. One document mentioned the Paolo Verde plant that had been the topic of the documents found on the dead Doomsayers. Curiouser and curiouser. When it was decided we'd gotten everything we were going to get from the place, we made ready to head out. Too bad the unseen locals had different ideas on the subject. They almost managed to get the drop on us completely.
As we made our way to the foot bridge over the moat of toxic slime, the green stew that surrounded the place like a lake began to bubble rapidly. Several man-like forms began to rise from their rancid habitat. Before you could say "recycling red-shirts", the toxic goo balls were flying. The rest of the posse was already picking dance partners. I on the other hand had frozen like a green recruit. The voice in my head made his presence known to me at that time, promising to make it all go away. Again, I ignored him, confident enough in my own abilities to handle the situation. I would come to regret that choice. Once I shook off the initial shock, I came around just in time to take a huge glob of radioactive acidic sludge in the arm. Before I even had a chance to scream the vile stuff had dissolved through flesh and bone, pieces of the limb sloughing off onto the ground. Grimacing in extreme pain, I tugged hard at the remains of my arm with my remaining hand, the destroyed matter tearing like wet tissue paper and cast it away before the sludge reached my torso. My left arm was now missing from the shoulder down.
"See what happens when you don't say yes?", hissed the morbid voice. An inverted echo of my own dismay. Goddamn it. I was now a one armed sniper. My wallow in the pool of self pity was quickly cut short when the toxic zombies started to target the children we retrieved. Normally, and under the circumstances, I'd have let the little bastards fry. The down side to that stance was that Little C was right in the middle of them. When I take a contract I try to see it through to completion. Tanus wanted Little C to get to Armana and he paid me to see that he would. Unfortunately for two of the tykes, the Toxic Zombies beat me to them, leaving nothing behind but screaming mounds of quickly dissolving flesh. Not being able to draw my weapon of choice and finding it difficult to concentrate with a such a minor distraction as losing my left arm, I opted to become an undead barrier, using my body to protect the helpless children. I figured, what the hell. It would be my last selfless act. As the posse dispensed some wasteland justice upon the toxic nightmares, I did my best with the help of the Papergirl to shield Clem and the remaining tykes. Despite our efforts, a well thrown glob of goo struck one of the children hard enough to knock her completely off the narrow trail and into the lake of waste where she dissolved almost instantly. Otto, Hell and Kelly formed a triangle of death around us, throwing lead into the horde of glowing zombies, and little by little we made progress. As the last zombie slid back into the goo, it seemed every one of us had been damaged by the thrown acidic blobs of waste. As we began to head back the way we had come, Hell and Kelly managed to wire the pool with some explosives, assuming that the goo was volatile enough to explode. We made sure the children were clear by the time Hell set off the charge and came roaring out of the ravine on his bike. The resulting explosion created a pillar of fire, erupting from the small box canyon in a torrent of hellish destructive energy. Scratch one Hellstromme lab. No one would be conducting experiments there anymore.
On the slow trip back to Wickenburg, I began to wonder how long I could hold my ground against the power at work inside my head. Even after we reunited the surviving children with their loved ones (some was better than none, I guess) and the Papergirl once again wove her magic to make us sound more heroic than we were, my thoughts were clouded. It was only a matter of time before I acquiesced and most likely began a slow spiral into some sort of damnation. Then again I was already dead and had expected to be aleady roasting in the fires of redemption by now. My attention was quickly snapped back to the present when the posse wanted to know the next plan of action. Using the town's generator, Kelly and Hell had managed to get the recovered lap top running. With some help from a townie that had some computer skills (she'd been an executive assistant before the war...fat lot of good the skills did her now), the group managed to access a file for some (apparent military) project connected with Helstromme Industries. The file was corrupted (lots of the data was apparently lost) but we could make out a mention of Winterburg and the Paolo Verde plant. Further access was encrypted and required an access code...something that had probably now gone up in smoke. Hell, if the rest of the disk was as messed up as the first few files we COULD access, it probably wouldn't have been worth the time anyway. Another helpful citizen mentioned strange goings on at Winterburg and dropped mention of the old abandoned nuclear power plant, both of which were a scant thirty miles from Wickenburg as the crow flew. The Doom Priest practically wet himself at the prospect of going there. The rest of us weren't very thrilled with the idea, but seeing as it was relatively close by and all the clues seemed to be leading us in that direction, we figured what the hell. I had to admit anything that involved the military and had apparently attracted the attention of Silas definitely demanded attention.
My only concern were the two (they almost always come in pairs...brainer bookends) townies that wanted to join up with the posse. The first one said he was a healer (not, I repeat, not a doctor) which was a plus as long as he didn't end up like the rest of the healers that ever rode with this group. The second one claimed to be a Merc looking to join up with us. He seemed to be competent enough at first, but something about him gave off a weird vibe. Seemed like trouble. I didn't see the need for any more of that commodity than we already had and was inclined to tell him to piss off. If the arm insignia that he had been carrying hadn't have fallen out of his pocket, I'm sure the rest of the posse would've agreed to leave him behind as well. You see, the design on the patch matched the project logo on the lap top's screen: a hand clenching a burning torch, the flame of the torch containing the familiar pattern of a genetic chain and the hand branded with a radiation symbol...around the torch, four letters in red, H.I.P.I.. This much we learned from the computer: H.I.P.I. stood for Helstromme Industries Prometheus Initiative, specifically with something called "Project Firebringer". When we asked him where he had found it he would only say it was somewhere around the Denver area. That generally translated into "Black Hats". That meant the Combine was involved as well. So like it or not, he was with the group (for as long he lasted). I wondered how long I myself would last against the thing that was riding around in my brain. How long would it be before it offered it's help and I accepted it?
4/30 - The morning light stretched out over the winding highway. That's right - an actual man made road. No treacherous winding rivers and no narrow ravines leading into box canyons. The first day's travel was unusually peaceful. The only item of note were the strange holes we began to encounter about 10 miles south of Wickenburg (roughly big enough for a grown man to fit through). At first the holes were few and far between. As we traveled on their frequency increased ever so slightly. Most of them were far enough from the road, so we let them be. After the first night had passed uneventfully, we preceded along our nicely paved route. Occasionally I'd catch Straight-guns or the Firewalker looking over their shoulders at what I assumed at first was me. Then I noticed that the holes we'd been seeing seemed to be increasing in frequency and were closer to the road. A made a mental note to keep more on guard, and around midmorning my foresight paid off. I was in my customary position as rear guard when my attention was drawn to a hole about fifty yards or so away across the flat desert surface to the right of the old highway. I could've sworn I'd seen something pop up out of it...or to be more precise, pop back into it. Something rather like a human sized head. Perhaps the Manitou was playing tricks on me again, but discretion is the better part of valor, and I didn't feel like being brave and stupid. I assumed a prone position and took aim with the my fifty caliber rifle using it's underslung bi-pod (practically the only way I can use the damn thing since losing my arm), waiting for whatever it was to pop up once more. Ten minutes went by before the party noticed I had stopped. Several of them back tracked to my position, inquiring as to what I was doing. As I gave them the details, a soft low vibration began underneath me and steadily grew closer. I got up quickly and found to my surprise that the activity suddenly stopped. Very strange, but seeing as it stopped and didn't start up again I moved on with the rest of the posse. I noticed the pace seemed a bit quicker, and there were a lot more backward glaces.
Perhaps the most interesting event on the second day of travel was the discovery of an old truck abandoned along the road side. Collective cynicism and past experience prepared us for the usual: a worthless rusted hulk with the usual nasty critter lurking inside. We were all surprised at the Firewalker's (or Hell as he liked to be called) proclamation that, upon his inspection, the vehicle was in good working order. Only a lack of fuel and water kept the machine idle. It looked as if the vehicle had run itself dry. The only sign of it's former owner: a broken driver's window and a considerable amount of dried blood on the seat and floorboards. The fuel was no problem. Between what Hell and the Papergirl were carrying we managed to put enough in the truck to get the truck filled to a little under a quarter of a tank. I provided the water, seeing as I had no use for it anymore and only carried it out of habit. As the rest of us were going about the business of who would or could drive the truck, the new "hired gun" vanished from sight. The sun had just gone down at that point, casting the unfamiliar landscape in long shadows. My first thought was he'd been a Black Hat plant he was setting up an ambush. No one would be stupid enough to just wander off alone, not knowing what was out there. Well... perhaps he was a plant, perhaps not. Guess I'll never know. I was definitely wrong in thinking no one was stupid enough to wander off, though. That is apparently what the idiot did. To this day we'd probably have no idea what had happened to Johnny Shortlived (as I've come to recollect him) if he hadn't had such a big mouth. Wandering away from the posse in the dark, the brainer had actually fallen down one of the aforementioned holes and was having a heated discussion with "something" down there with him in the darkness. The rest of the posse tried to retrieve the hapless merc. I took no part in it. I was rapidly growing weary of the nonstop string of morons we'd let join up with us. If Johnny Shortlived wanted to kill himself there was no chance in Hell I would stand in his way. As it turned out my choice in names was once again right on the money. The stupid bastard actually dared the thing in the hole to "bite him in the head". The unmistakable sound of a cranium popping under pressure followed (once you've heard it, it kinda stays with you). Scratch one hired gun.
Once the posse resigned themselves to the fact that yet one more tag along had bitten the dust, it was business as usual. Straight-guns was trying to teach Otto (heh) how to ride a horse so he could drive our new found transportation. I hadn't occurred to me that I wasn't alone. Little C had followed me away from the rest of the posse. It's hard enough to relate to other adults. I don't relate to kids at all (I've got to get Otto to keep a closer eye on this kid). As I looked down into the kid's wrinkled face I felt a sudden rush of air pass over my head. A vague shadowy form blurred past my field of vision in the dark...a black shape against the moonless night. Before I could react, I was suddenly being gripped by the shoulders. When my feet rapidly lifted from away from the ground I gave Little C the order to run (for a scrawny little glow bug he sure did move quick enough). I was gaining altitude fast and needed a plan, and the first thing I could think of was to call for assistance. As plans go, getting someone's attention might have worked better if it wasn't Otto's attention I'd gained. His reaction to the situation was his nigh-infamous patented "open up with the SMG's full auto" of course (I can only wonder where he keeps all the ammo for those guns...he never seems to run out.). During the whole flight the thing in my head chattered away non-stop, dangling the usual worm on a hook:
"It doesn't look very promising. Being carried off by some wasteland horror whilst being shot at by one's own friends. Oh! Those bullets are getting close! Why... what's a corpse to do"?
It finished off with it's familiar "I can make it go away" speech. Want to give a guess as to what my answer was? I'd survived the horrors of the Faraway War, lived through an attack by a Doombringer and endured the wasted west for over thirteen years. There was no way in Hell I was going to go out dangling in the air as some low I.Q., cromag throwback, cheap-ass Guardian knock off blew me to shreds with friendly fire. You bet your soul I said yes. I knew the price involved in taking that things help was most likely going to be high, but Hell... I'm a walking sack of rotting meat that doesn't know enough to go find a nice six foot hole to go and lie down in. Sooner or later the damned Manitou was going to win and make me most likely relive every terrible thing I did on Banshee right here on earth. I figure at the rate we lose Posse member I'd be in a group of virtual strangers by the time I go bad. So sad, too bad. As Otto's guns began to chatter, I told thing to do what it had to do. An odd bubbling chuckle was it's reply.
The situation progressed in an interesting fashion. As I'd hoped, I was missed completely by Otto's barrage, the rounds amazingly flying above and about me. I was quickly faced with another dilemma, however. I was thirty to forty feet in the air as Otto's spray of lead death succeeded in pulping the upper half of whatever the hell it was that tried to fly off with me. I doubted even a Harrowed body could survive a fall like that. I hoped in saying yes to the voice, it would mean I wouldn't fall. My hopes remained surprisingly intact. As the dead flying thing plummeted towards desert floor, it lost it's taloned grip on my shoulders and I remained hovering in the exact spot of it's release: thirty to forty feet above terra firma. I should've guessed I need to be more specific with the Monte Hall of nebulous evil voices. After a short presentation of "Invaders of the Id", I was gently set in the back of now moving truck. Apparently, the winged nasty wasn't the only antagonist in the desert that night. While I was occupied, something else had been throwing blobs of acid bile at the rest of posse from the darkness, prompting an impromptu retreat.
As all of this was going on, Otto stated that he was not going to ride Straight-Gun's horse and if he wanted his horse he'd better go and get it. I love the cooperation in this group. Kelly of course stopped the truck and went to retrieve the steed (not out of any sense of sentimentality...rather because all of his gear was on it). As Straight-Guns went after his horse, the rest of us were on full alert, staring off into the darkness. Except for Otto. Showing his usual uncanny ease of wandering about in the darkness, the soldier wandered over to the corpse of my aeronautical attacker, poked at it for a few minutes and called us over to get a look as well. He was doing his best "philosophical" pose. Now for me, there are very few things still living on this world that I find more hilarious than Otto trying to think. Alas, there are also fewer things take half as much time. Looking back and forth from the acidic globs coating the back of the truck to the fallen flyer, something finally clicked in what passes as his thought process. His profound (and very loud) exclamation of, "HEY... I THINK THERE WAS MORE THAN ONE OF THESE THINGS"!, rang outward across the desert landscape. Well, now. I was certainly going to sleep better knowing such sharp deductive reasoning skills were at our disposal.
Well, whatever those things were, it was obvious that they were digging all the holes we'd encountered since leaving Wickenburg. We'd have plenty of time to ponder all those splendid things on the next day's leg of our journey. We traveled about five more miles up the road that night before making camp; wanting to put a bit more distance between us and whatever had attacked. We set up a standard rotating watch. Lucky me I ended up with the Doompriest. Thankfully, the watch (which was the third) went by silently and mostly uneventfully. Just before we were about to wake the next watch, a very familiar sound could be heard. It sounded like a Raptor flying at high speed over head. Sure enough a tiny dot hung in the clear desert night sky. I guessed that it was about fives mile from our position and seemed to be looking around the spot where Otto splatted the winged terror. Black Hats and waste land horrors. A nasty combo for sure. If the Black Hats were some how tracking the beasts, it was a good chance that the posse was still fresh on their list. We told the last shift about what had happened, but neither Straight-guns nor Hell seemed to overly concerned about it. They had a point. Seeing as the Black Hats had to have some sort of base of operations to be bothering with no tech places like Wickensburg, it was most likely going to be the power plant that we were heading for in the first place.
So, with that under our belts and the light of day to travel by we were on our way. The town of Wintersburgs, home of the nuclear facility we were searching for, was nestled on a rocky hill top. At least, that what the narrow winding road going up hill lead us to believe. We didn't even make it half way up the road before we fell into the ambush. About thirty Black Hats, fifteen on either side of the road, sprang up with all their nasty Hellstromme Industries toys. They gave the order to throw down our weapons and most of the posse complied. Only Hell and I hesitated. Hell motioned to my side of the road with his eyes and then to his side of the road in a similar fashion. I found out later that he had intended to Arson his side and that he'd wanted me to Chainbrain my side, but the point was moot. I'd made eye gestures of my own; namely looking up and then shaking my head no. If there were thirty Black Hats ready to fill us full of holes with us on the road side, then I was willing to wager that the Raptor we'd spied last night was standing by as back up. So down went the weapons.
After the usual bad guy boasting garbage, we were lead through the ruins of the town of Wintersburg and into the main compound that the Black Hats called home. The overall layout was very straight forward: an outer perimeter fence with several large buildings, obviously for storage and maintenance of vehicles, along with several other buildings of undetermined usage. We were taken through a small structure (seemed like a typical "processing" type set-up) that lead into an open area in the center of the compound. That area was boxed off with chain linked fencing with razor wire all along the top. Within the 30' x 30' pen were a total of eight Black Hats, two Red Hats (gee...we rated the presence of officer types...I felt honored) and one weirdly mad scientist type, complete with coke-bottle glasses and stained lab coat. The officers and doctor sat at a long folding table that had been set up in the compound, as the grunts took up guard positions about us. One of the Red hats started in with the questions, and Kelly swung into a deliberate song and dance...mostly truth, but with important details omitted. It was obvious from their reactions that they knew he was full of shit. Hell started to tweak at the sight of the doctor. Ever since the ruined HI facility in the box canyon he'd become almost unhinged at the mere mention of a doctor. The doctor, along with four of the eight Black hats, made his way over towards me. After looking me up and down for a few moments he snapped his fingers and said I'd be perfect - for what I could only guess, but it was most likely not going to be a therapeutic experience. As I was being taken away, Hell shouted, "We'll be seeing each other real soon!", to me. The doctor's response was, shall we say... exactly what I'd expected.
"Oh I wouldn't be very hopeful of that. Your one armed friend here is going to... help me in a very important experiment. As for the rest of you, you'll most likely be processed as food".
That was all Hell needed. The last syllable barely left the demented doctor's lips as Hell's Arson engulfed the doctor and the four Black Hats. Nearly got me as well. I was lucky the first time, as the brunt of the blast only singed me. I wasn't as lucky for the second one Hell set off on the remaining two Red Hats and two Black Hats who were now raising their weapons. I was neatly in the blast radius for this one with no way to turn. That's when I actually asked the thing in my head to "make it go away". I closed my eyes as the I felt the force of blast erupt. A soft but eerie giggle hung in my head as the fire seemed to move around me and I was untouched. The rest of the posse went into action, dealing death to the remainder of Black Hats in the fenced in compound. Straight-Guns made like a ghost and vanished through the door leading back into the small building we had come through. While the flames still burned on the corpses of our enemies, an alarm klaxon wound up and the rest of the Hats in the compound began heading our way. I counted fifteen in the immediate vicinity, so I went for an old standby of Fran's - I slapped a good old Chainbrain on the lot of them. Fourteen of them went down, slick as bowling pins. I think the last one must've wet himself because he turned and ran away with his tail between his legs. So of course I zapped him with an additional Chainbrain and down he went. Several more Hats emerged from the far structures with hell in their eyes (the place not the Syker). Hell was replaced with horror went the Doompriest through all remaining caution to the wind and unleashed a Nuke, catching the buildings as well as part of the nearby motor pool. We were all damned lucky he didn't hit anything volatile. I have no idea what the Hat's fuel situation was, but I was imagining the had quite a bit for the Raptor and other vehicles. I mean, forget the fact we were on the grounds of an apparently still functioning nuclear power plant. I caught myself stopping and pondering momentarily at just how bad things could have become. Luckily, the blast had the desired effect, stripping a way the shock troops and momentarily clearing our path.
With the immediate danger gone for the moment, we all headed for the door. Straight-Guns reentered and gave the all clear, but the door was still locked. With a bit of group effort we managed to get through the door. Straight-Guns and the Paper-Girl found all of our gear stowed in the far room of the structure (nice, but almost too bloody convenient if you ask me...still, never look a gift horse, blah, blah, blah). Straight-Guns also thought the truck and Hell's bike had been placed in the plant's motor pool, so we double timed it to the location. Luck was once again on our side as we found both the truck and the bike. Both had taken a few dings from Fallon's Nuke, but still seemed to be in working order. What I found amazing was the fact that we didn't even see (let alone fight) an Automaton, and the Raptor we'd been so nervous about was nowhere in sight. It was decided that the posse should split: Straight-guns and Hell in the truck and bike; the rest of down one of the various holes that seemed to be everywhere - including the compound. The idea was to create a diversion in case the absent Raptor was heading our way. Straight-guns and Hell would be the said distraction with the vehicles while we hid. The terrain around the town consisted of rolling hills covered with loose scree and sand - very little vegetation and next to no cover (an obvious sign that the plant, though running, was probably leaking rads all over the place). There was simply no place to hide immediately except the holes. If things went right, we'd all meet up in the actual town of Wintersburg in about a day (I trusted Straight-Guns, but I still wasn't to sure about Hell). Most of us weren't to crazy about going down into a place of darkness and potential danger, but we wagered that whatever might lurk down in the darkness was a shade safer than playing tag with a Raptor or an Atomaton. So down we went.
The tunnels were low and narrow, prompting travel on hands and knees, and coated with a thin, pasty slime. Single file was the only way to go, and having to do a fast about face was next to impossible. We worked our way straight into the earth for a stretch before the tunnel eventually tapered off to a fairly straight run, where we decided to stop and wait. Clem's mutated bod again provided us with a meager glow...enough to look about and wonder just what the hell we thought we were doing down here. Several hours passed uneventfully until our front lineman Otto decided to explore the strange waxy tunnel a bit farther down, mostly out of sheer boredom. I guess being the only one who can see in the dark without benefit of a light source has it's perks. Soon, the rest of posse followed suit. Reluctantly, I went forward trying to remember why in the hell I was here in the first place. Either being dead was causing an unprecedented streak of altruism in me or I was getting soft hanging with this bunch. Taking out nuclear power plants and fighting Black Hats for free? What would the guild of Syker assassins say if they knew what I'd gotten myself involved in. Heh. Not much, considering they're all deader than me, I guess.
As I pondered long dead associates, I heard Otto and several others make a commotion about a large opening that seemed to be cave. At least it was better that crouching in a narrow tunnel. Leaving the mouth of the tunnel, I could barely make out the caves features. Clem was the only source of light per usual and he wasn't a very bright one. Four tunnels branched out on the far ends of the wall. The healer (claimed to be a Warlock whatever the hell THAT is) piped up about splitting the posse and exploring each of them. Otto was quick to remind him of the possible creatures that might still be down here and the idea was quickly dropped. (Incredible - I never though I'd live to see the day Otto had a lucid moment). It was about then that we heard a voice (or voices - it was nearly impossible to tell the way sound bounced around in the subterranean tunnels...the acoustics were very strange). Just whispers at first, then a bit louder. Something seemed to be having a conversation with something else. Otto must've switched into Minnie-G mode and started to shout out into the darkness telling whatever was talking to show it self and asking who it was. To my surprise the thing actually responded to him. As it made it's way towards us, I and several other posse members took up a defensive posture. Otto made no aggressive gestures of any kind. That seemed to go along way with the creature. As the thing shambled into view, calling it a creature was being kind. From what little light Clem provided, it's features were hard to make out. What did stand out was it's face. Slime covered tendrils hung where a mouth and nose should have been. The rest of his head appeared to be human. A nasty scar and the obvious remains of stitches made up the border between the normal and the grotesque. No doubt the work of some doctor (and most likely the burning ember we left back at the Black Hats base, making me ponder just what sort of project I'd almost become involved in).
As it turned out, the critter (Dee as it called itself), was indeed a medical experiment of the Black Hats...an unwilling participant in the newly established H.I.P.I. program (but if this was an example of the product, the question remained regarding the projects ultimate goal - our new "friend" created some disturbing possibilities). We also found out that Dee was the one who had crushed Johnny Shortlived's head and was the one lobbing acid balls at the posse while I was being carried away. Not only did Otto confess to killing Dee's friend, but he also managed to convince the thing that it wasn't a malicious attack (I'm almost inclined to change my opinion of Otto... almost). Seeing as Dee now considered Otto to be our leader (since no one else spoke up to any worthwhile degree. I sure as hell didn't have anything to say to it) we now had an under ground guide. Now all we had to do was wait to meet up with Kelly and Hell...if the Raptor didn't meet up with them first...
4/30 -Twelve hours is long time to wait underground, even if you are a dead man. Most of us were keeping as still as possible. Otto was still playing diplomat with Dee, the wonder weirdling, finding out all sorts of fun facts about the Black Hat's medical experiments. Apparently, Dee was a prototype of a human/wormling hybrid. Not only was he immensely strong, but he also possessed thick claws he could use in conjunction with his physical prowess to create the tunnels we'd been traveling through. A mucous-like waste byproduct was used to give the tunnels there waxy glaze, thus increasing there structural integrity. (Heh. The Paper-girl wasn't too thrilled to learn she had been crawling about on hardened monster shit.) The key word, however, was prototype - Dee had escaped the program and was being pursued by the remaining members of his "unit". By his nervousness, it was easy to determine that his pursuers were definitely something to be afraid of. The more we learned, the worse our choice to hide in the tunnels seemed to become.
Whether it was the darkness or the waiting one thing was clear. We needed something to keep us occupied. Echoed voices rebounded down one of the adjacent tunnels. One of the voices was most definitely that of Hell's. The other wasn't familiar, but it was female; possibly someone of Asian descent, judging by the accent. This was what the posse needed, some action. So, away we went in the usual procession. Otto in the front with our new pal Dee close behind. Next in line was the ever present Paper-girl with trusty pointed sticks at the ready with Clem in tow, followed by the mysterious and blissfully quiet Warlock. That left the Doompreist and myself at the rear. The crawl took us about twenty minutes. We were half-way towards our destination when we heard the action begin somewhere ahead - the sounds of some sort of scuffle echoed through the narrow tunnel. It wasn't much longer before the sound of automatic fire joined in, signaling that Otto had emerged and it was "go time". One by one the posse emerged from the tunnel like discarded teeth spit from a horrid, waxy mouth. I was the last to leave the tunnel, but not before brainblasting a portent of what was waiting for the posse at our destination. It looked very much like Dee only much larger and three shades more ugly. I didn't wait for a formal introduction: I greeted it Syker style - fewer repeat visits that way. After all, I hate unexpected company.
As I took care of my dance partner, my eyes were greeted with a strange scene indeed as I took in my surroundings. Upon leaving the tunnel I found myself in a jail cell in what looked like a small Law Dog's office. Two of Dee's surgically altered cousins lay dead near the unconscious form of a small Asian woman. The rest of the posse didn't seemed too concerned about her, so I ignored her as well. We had more important things to attend to at the moment, namely the several man-wormlings on the other side of the bars tearing Straight-Guns and the Firewalker new assholes. The Doom Priest made an attempt to go to the aid of the two outnumbered men, but found that the cell door had been melted at the lock. I could only assume that the Firewalker was responsible and that we'd find out why after the battle had ended. As we tried to distract the creatures from Hell and Kelly, we saw the pair high-tail it for the front of the building as more wormy nastiness erupted from the Sheriff's office floor. The papergirl screamed in frustration, rattling the bars that held us back from helping our hopelessly outnumbered companions. As it turned out the cell door being fused shut was what most likely saved most of our lives. We mostly kept to the back wall of the cell, which managed to keep us out of the reach of the worm things outside, and we were able to dish out hurt with impunity. After a long bizarre fight and many an impressive move, (most notably the Paper-girl throwing a hatchet between the bars of the cell and neatly splitting the head of one of our horrific adversaries neatly in two), the room grew quiet.
Once the Doom Priest and Otto managed to get the door to cell open, they made their way to the street in hopes to find Kelly and Hell. As they proceeded, I made my way over to the still form of the Asian women who was being attended to by the Warlock. That's when I noticed that she was handcuffed and that said handcuffs belonged to Kelly. The Warlock looked as if he were going to attempt to remove her bindings, but I made sure that didn't come to pass. Straight-guns had seen fit to cage that women and bind her. I wasn't about to let the witch let our mystery woman loose just yet.
Otto and the Doomie came back with bad news. They found the evidence of a pitched battle in the street outside along with a great deal of blood, but no sign of Straight-Guns and the Firewalker. Since Kelly didn't bleed, we could only assume that Hell was no longer with us. As the pair began to spread out to search further, Otto managed to catch a glimpse of a worm-thing dragging the unmistakable lower half of Kelly (hard to confuse those cowboy boots he wore with anything else) by a loop of intestine into an ever present worm hole in a nearby alley, bringing our posse losses up to two.
.
Our time for sorrow was short lived. It was pointed out to us that our now dead monstrous friends were all wearing collars, and each had a small light on them that was now blinking red. That either meant that they would explode, or that they were tracking collars. Either way it was time to go, and if the Black Hats were already on the way then we only had one choice: back into the tunnels. On the way through the tunnel network our new friend finally came to. She began to rant and rave about Straight-Guns and how he left his truck in her house. She had apparently claimed the truck and everything on it as salvage. Apparently Straight-Guns didn't agree and had placed her under arrest. We decided that it would be best if we left our new friend (or the Shrieking Violet as she was known to me) in chains for the time being. As I expected, she was not happy with our decision, but the alternative was much less palatable. As a concession we agreed to go to her home to retrieve her gear (man, am I going soft hanging around these guys). It wasn't all generosity on our part. Shrieking Violet mentioned the truck being in her house. Otto wanted to take the Firewalker's bike and hide it at a separate location, mainly because of all the ammo locked away in it: a small fortune in fifty caliber rounds (around thirty clips of various types) that would most certainly come in handy to myself and Otto, who acquired Hell's .50 rifle during the last battle.
For reasons I had nothing to do with, the plan to shut down the Nuclear power plant were still on. Dee mentioned he knew an area of the facility with minimal security in which a worm tunnel was burrowed into. So much for trying to avoid the Black Hats. As the beginnings of a plan of attack was forming, (at least as close to planned thinking as this group gets) I started to dwell on the voice in my head and the offer that was made to me in the place between life and death. Was it inevitable that I would walk the path of darkness or would I struggle to find redemption? Hell, the way my life goes I'm betting on the darkness...
5/7 - Once again we made our slow crawl through artificial tunnels made by the eerie worm-men. As we proceeded, it was clear that the Shrieking Violet was mentally deficient. Her inability to keep quiet rivaled that of Otto's. After several threats from various posse members, including my self, she complied with our wishes to be silent. We also complied (against our better judgement) with her wish to have the handcuffs removed. We provided her with most of her weapons that we procured from her "home" once she had convinced us that she was some sort of martial artist, much like our long dead companion Chuin. Otto and the Paper-Girl split up her shuriken, however - after all, we still weren't too sure of new our new traveling companion. We had traveled several yards from the Martial Artist's home via the tunnel network when we heard the sound of a man's voice back at the tunnel entrance. Otto thought that it may have been either Hell or Straight-guns, so who was volunteered to go check it out? You guessed it, the one armed dead guy. Upon emerging from the tunnel I found a strange little man rummaging around the posse transport. He claimed that he was searching the truck for salvage, thinking it was abandoned. He actually apologized for his intrusion on our property and introduced himself. It was a very long winded, proper British name which eludes me at the moment, so I shall simply refer to him as the Limey. For reasons I couldn't fathom, I felt compelled to persuade him to join our group. Must have been the bizarre VTOL vehicle that looked like a refrigerator he said he'd arrived in. Who could tell. After a few minutes of conversation (not one of my strong points) he agreed to come along. Leaving his vehicle next to our truck he followed me hesitantly down into the worm warrens.
Along the way we came across a young savage (that brought the kid count up to three...hoo-ray) who claimed that his dreams lead him to us. I was a bit skeptical until he called two us by name. There was something about his voice that was vaguely familiar, but that would wait. We were on the way to destroy a Black Hat run nuclear power plant and a loose plan was forming. The general idea was that the Doom Priest and I would infiltrate the control room. the Doomie would shut down the power to the consol via EMP, while I destroyed the control panel with a brain blast. Sounded like a plan right? Well, as someone once said, the best laid plans of mutants and men often go astray. As we approached our destination, it seemed that a loud argument had erupted between all the children at the rear ranks. It's wasn't even a full minute before the alarm klaxon sounded and the fun began. We were in what appeared to be a man made cave out side the tunnel we'd been traveling in. A metal door rested at the far end of the makeshift room, which we assumed was the low security entrance to the facility (so much for that idea). The sound of heavy plates dragged against hardened mucus rapidly grew closer from the tunnel we'd just emerged from. The good news was that most of us were in positions of defense and/or offense. The bad new was that the Wango Tango Kid as the new savage called himself, was still in the tunnel with whatever the hell was heading our way like a freight train. Freight train was pretty damned close to what that thing resembled. It shot out of the tunnel with a speed I haven't seen in a long time (Banshee was the last time - those purple bastards could move like lightning). From the looks of the thing, the Black Hats were pumping super soldier formula into their pets. It's lower body was completely reptilian: a snake like mass that nearly filled the tunnel with it's bulk. It's upper body resembled that of the other worm-men we'd encountered, only more massive. It's head nearly touched the cave ceiling, which was nearly twenty feet in height, at a quick guess. The plan, as it was, had converted to the usual chaos that had become this group's trademark. Otto, the Doom Priest, the Warlock and I went on the offensive, while the rest of the posse made their way to the metal door. I let loose with a mighty Brainblast and missed horribly (I tell you, being dead seems to have knocked off my fighting skills). Otto attacked as Otto always does; both guns firing full auto (this guy must have ammo coming out of his ass the way he keeps dumping rounds into everything). The Doom Priest and the Warlock made with the extra-worldly voodoo. The Wango Tango Kid suddenly appeared on the thing's back, and he managed to lob what looked like a hub cap at the critter before being thrown aside. After more effort that should have been necessary the thing dropped. Unfortunately, the thing's bulk was blocking the tunnel so we weren't going to be leaving the way we came without tunneling through its carcass.
On the other side of the metal door we found a huge labratory. Around the corner to the left and to the right stood six very large cylindrical containers. They each contained the still form of a giant snake creature, much like the one in the cave we just came from. In the north-east corner of the room was what appeared to be a large freight elevator. Directly south of that was a large observation window and a mechanical door. Otto, the Warlock and I made our way towards it as the rest of the posse explored the vast chamber. The aforementioned door was locked and needed a slide pass to activate it. Otto remember the pass card we had acquired from the corpse of the Green Robe at the old Hellstromme facility and gave it a try. As luck would have it the card worked and we entered. Our entry must've triggered a security relay at the main control room however, because a very familiar voice came on over a hidden loud speaker.
"I don't know who you are or how you got this far into the facility without being detected, but you're not leaving this place alive".
The arrogant sound in Killian's voice way as prevalent as ever. When I responded, his tone changed to that of surprise and outrage. I let him know that I had his number even though I wasn't in a position to collect. That's when the activity started. First the freight elevator began to lower, most likely to bring up some Automaton nastiness. Then warning lights and sirens fired up as the tanks with the reptilian horrors began to open, venting their fluids through sluice gates at each column's base. The situation looked grim, to say the least. Our only hope seemed to lie in the small control room that the three of us had gained entry to. A single chair faced a simple looking computer console. A moderate sized window revealed an empty room, the only feature of note being nine large glowing circles which covered the entire floor, covered with a thick layer of translucent glass. The image of an old Sci-Fi television show flashed into my mind. The characters would transport themselves instantaneously with a device very similar in appearance to the chamber before us. I played a hunch and the Warlock and myself started to punch in passwords into the computer. The code sequence had an open string of twelve characters so we went to work fast. After a few failed attempts we tried the word "Black Hats". Black was accepted but, hats wouldn't work. Then the idea struck me that it might be an all color code system, so we put the word Red in after Black and my hunch was right. Light and sound were growing in intensity from within the chamber. The only thing left to do was enter the chamber and see if anything would happen. One problem remained - the posse was spread out within the chamber and the Warlock and I weren't sure how long a delay the device had. It wouldn't be long before the snake things were upon us and I doubted that even the reinforced security door would hold them off for long.
Well, time sure does fly when half a dozen, giant snake-men want to kill you. Most of the posse had entered the control room and were ready to enter the chamber. Only Dee and the Shrieking Violet were not accounted for. What sounded like snapping celery gave me all the indication that the snake like horrors were lose and that we were ANOTHER two posse member short. (Too bad about Dee, but I knew that kung-fu chick would meet with a stupid end). With everyone else finally scrambling into the control room, we sealed the outer door and entered the chamber. At first nothing happened but we hadn't closed the chamber door. The Limey was the last one to enter the room so he got to do the honors.
What happened next is a bit hard to describe. The light and sound intensified exponentially. One by one, members of the posse began to pass out, slumping over like puppets who's strings had been cut. After everyone else had dropped, I began to feel the enormous drain on my entire being. I started to imagine the molecules of my body being de-constructed; slipping away at relativistic speed. As I finally succumbed to the hellish light, I could hear the voice in my head begin to scream, clawing for purchase in my brain as even it was ripped away. When the light of consciousness was replaced with the blanket of shadowy stillness, the world around me transformed. I stood naked upon a large barren field. In the distance an angry sea of purple was rushing towards me and on a far off ridge there sat a rider upon a pale horse. The landscape was familiar. Banshee. I was on Banshee again...but that was impossible. A endless tide of Annouks swept across the landscape toward me, and I heard the figure on the horse above laugh above the howling winds. I went under beneath the onslaught as hundreds of blades slammed into me, tearing and rending. The pain kept increasing, but death wouldn't come. Finally the sound of my own screams drowned out everything and even the image of Banshee slipped away into the darkness.
My fears were finally quelled when the psychedelic light show died down and it was once again silent. I was the first of the posse to awaken (or so I'd thought). We had apparently "arrived" at our destination, which aside from a few structural differences was very similar to the chamber we'd just left. I didn't think it was possible for a dead guy to feel nauseous, but there's no other word to describe it. Even the thing in my head felt like it had a hangover. As the last of the posse staggered to their feet, the Limey made the move to open the chamber door. The only one who wasn't there with us was the Paper-Girl. She was with us before the jump, but now there was no sign of her. I could only assume the machine was set up for the number of people that arrived on the other side (Heh - one kid down, two more to go). Still, she'd saved my life more than once, and we've traveled far together. I caught myself hoping that she was alive...somewhere.
The room beyond was a very innocuous looking, water damaged bed room. We proceeded with as much care as this group could as we made our way to a staircase leading down to the first floor of wherever the hell we were. The first thing that was evident was the smell of the air. It was a touch more crisp and clean and a lot more moist. The explanation was quite simple: we were on the coast of some ocean. That was plain to see from the second floor window. A sign hanging askew on a damaged wall proclaimed that the structure was some sort of corporate office for something called the Dempsey corporation. Otto vaguely remembered that Dempsey had something to do with the entertainment industry before the war, but couldn't remember specifics. The obvious question on everyone's mind was where the hell were we? The east coast would mean deader heaven. The west coast would mean the Great Maze and the freaks from Lost Angels. Hell, we might've even been on another Goddamned continent for all we knew. Our answer came after we'd managed to convince the local populous that we didn't intend to do them in (squatters). The first question answered was that were on the coast of Texas somewhere near Galveston (Christ, we're never going to get that mutant kid to Armana). The second question was what were the locals so spooked by. At first I assumed it may have been me, after all I am a walking stiff. As the story went, a gang of thugs made off with several women that resided in a settlement nearby. The men folk were making a feeble attempt to track the thugs (hardly a weapon or fighter amongst them), but had lost the trail nearby. They'd come across the building we found ourselves in and had been camping in it, scroungnig about while trying to figure out what to do.
The job of posse leader must have started to go to Otto's head, because he decided to volunteer the aid of the posse to the villagers cause. After a little discussion from the rest of the posse, we voted (hooray for group unity) for taking the job, after all we were about 1100 miles from where we we'd started and most of us weren't to familiar with the Texas area. Even I hadn't been this way in nearly eleven years, so any way to make a buck is a good way.
Our price settled, we set off. We found the bandit's trail pretty easily, and a days travel brought us to an abandoned pick-up truck. The tank and the radiator were both bone dry, and the obvious reason the bandits had abandoned it. They, however, didn't have a Junker on their team. The Limey simply grinned, cracked his knuckles, and began tearing the engine apart gleefully, saying that if we gave him a little time he'd have transportation for the group shortly.
While lazing about in the sun and cool breeze blowing in off of the nearby ocean, the sound of a very specific gun being fired got our attention. Panic washed over Otto's face as he reached down to his waist to discover the deceased Guardian's twin gatling pistols he'd been carrying were missing. To everyone's surprise, the Wango Tango Kid was missing as well. Otto didn't hesitate to bolt off in the direction of the explosive discharge had originated from. I played it a bit more defensively and hung back. Mainly because I knew full well what those guns did to people with my condition. After a few minutes passed, I made my way to Otto and what I found when I got there was very odd indeed. The Kid was brandishing both gats and was in the middle of a heated debate with Otto over said guns. The most unusual thing was the way his voice sounded. It much deeper than it usually was and a lot more gruff. Then the little bastard turned his head, looked straight as me and said, "Guess who, C.F.?"
He was back just like he said he would be. The Goddamned Guardian. His face even seemed to contort slightly to resemble his old features. After the three way debate was all said and done, it was agreed that the Kid would keep possession of the gats, but only between towns. Otto would take them back when we would reach a populated area. We had barely noticed the two (there's that magic number again) strangers that had approached us , but maintained a safe distance seeing as we all had weapons drawn. The first one was some sort of Indian that smelled like an old factory smoke stack. He even seemed to have a semi-haze of filth hovering about him like that old cartoon character Dirt-Pen or Pig-Slop or whatever he was called. The other one was wore the tabard of an Anti-Templar. He claimed to be from Canada and spoke with a thick French accent. He seemed to be as bright as a broken Christmas tree light, but that was par for the course with this bunch. As usual they wanted to join up and as usual we agreed. (I never agree to let any of them join so I don't fell so bad when they inevitably bite it).
As we made preparations for our journey (we managed to pick up the track of the bandits pretty easily), I wondered about the voice in my head. Ever since the transport, it had remained silent. The fleeting thought that it might have been separated from me in transit was dismissed due to the fact that I was still moving around. At best, it was sleeping off the effects of the trip. My thoughts centered on the idea that I may someday lose my internal battle with my inner demon and that I may very well kill some if not all of my posse members. Then it occurred to me that I didn't really care, simply because most of them were in fact strangers to me. I didn't really care for Otto all that much either. If it happens it happens.
I just hope I can figure out a way to grow my another arm before it does...