|Battle Report for Bedlam Boys|
|Versus the Zen Yahoos.|
The Bedlammers had re-crossed the Shame, and made their way to their hidden access tunnels cross-and uphive, back to the Smokelands, Bedlam Town. Jubilant reunions for the Kohls, Macbactas, LeBeaus and other gangers, and periods of respectful prayer done with, Lucky led the gang out to scavenge in the disused domes of Nova Foundry.
Kendo Herty had cried off, claiming his old war wound was acting up, and this irked Lucky somewhat: they’d scrapped with a local gang, the Zen Yahoos, several months ago when they were still the Bedlam Town Watch, and Montoya was sure their old foes would come gunning for them. The Yahoos’ leader, also called Lucky, was a Bedlam gang veteran who’d run with the legendary ‘Mad Dog’ Magellan back in the day, and word on the street was that he had a major kill-urge for his namesake.
The dome they were in looked damn promising, loot scattered about all over, and Lucky sent Gomi, Vigo and Betti out on the left flank, and instructed Mac and Ghoulface to hustle up a central tower to scope for more loot and be ready to fire on any opposition. Jimi and Lazlo came with Lucky down the centre of the domefloor; the latter was unusually lucid, unlike Vigo out on the left.
‘It’s pretty colour,’ smiled Vigo, wandering off to examine a plascrete pillar glistening with translucent slime.
‘C’mon, baby,’ whined Betti, tugging at his arm to no avail, ‘there’s scrapping to be done…’
‘Frag this,’ said Gomi, nearby. ‘Lucky’ll have our ears if we bottle this. Let tinhead sort himself out.’
He sprinted off, and Betti peered after him with her good eye, doubtful, then returned to coaxing Vigo.
Up top, Mac and Ghoulface were scrambling ever higher. The tower had a valuable vox assembly at its peak, and they were after it.
‘Over there,’ rasped Ghoulface, pausing and pointing. In the distance, three rival Orlocks, no doubt Zen Yahoos, were visible atop another tower, one of them carrying an unmistakable heavy stubber. Time for the Bedlam Boys to show off their sharpshooting. Ghoulface was unslinging his las, but Mac held him back.
‘I’m a quicker shot, Malky, I can take ‘em. You keep going for that old vox.’
Ghoulface nodded, always impressed by the sound thinking of Macbacta, and made for a rusty ladder.
Mac opened fore with his las, forcing the distant gangers to duck for cover.
Down below, Lucky and Jimi had scrambled to a low level walkway, leaving Lazlo on the domefloor.
‘He’s tougher’n you think, give him a chance,’ Jimi advised, taking aim at the same cluster of Yahoos as Mac, taking one of them down. For a moment, he felt the same ease he used to feel with his hotshot lasgun, Bane of Anschluss, in his hands.
They ducked behind a barricade as enemy fire ricocheted around them.
‘It’s that fraggin’ other Lucky, I know it,’ hissed Montoya. ‘I bet there’s more of them at domefloor. You stay here, cover me, I’m gonna see if I can get a better angle. And Lazlo better be as tough as you hope he is…’
She leapt forward as more shots echoed around.
Just below them, Lazlo Lazarus was trading fire with a couple of assailants in the murky gloom. He felt calm and clearheaded, dropping one Yahoo with ease, but as he ducked to cover, something angry was itching at the back of his mind.
Across the dome, Vigo continued to find fascination in the rubble of the crumbling dome, much to Betti’s annoyance.
‘Veeeeeeeg, either Lucky’s gonna scrag your ass, or we’re both gonna buy it when these guys get the drop on us! Come onnnnn!’
The heavy pop of shotgun fire sounded from nearby: Gomi was duelling with two Yahoos through a tangle of pillars and pipes. Both sides were pinned in place, but even scattershot couldn’t pierce the cover.
Up top, Ghoulface had grabbed the old vox and was adding his fire to Mac’s. The Zen Yahoos behind the high barricade were pinned, but neither Bedlam Boy could get a hit through their cover. Same went for Jimi Bone.
Creeping ahead, Lucky surveyed the domespace. She could see more of their foes advancing. A strangled cry from up ahead told her that another Yahoo had gone down: if she could just track down the other Lucky and take him out face-to-face, it could tip the balance in the Bedlam Boys’ favour.
Lazlo took another shot at the advancing Yahoos, sweat pouring off his brow. A figure clad in a heavy duster, carrying a powersword, darted from shadow to shadow ahead of him: got to be their leader! A wave of fury overcame Lazlo: how dare these sumpsuckers hit the Bedlammers in their own home town? Lazlo resolved in a flash to make the enemy leader bleed. He drew his knife and charged into the gloom shouting ‘Up the Orlock!’, but he lost his way and staggered short.
Montoya heard Lazlo’s battle cry and groaned. Though Mac, Jimi and Malky were shooting as reliably as ever, Lazlo had clearly lost it and there was no sign of Vigo, so he’d probably cracked too. Lucky had to make the most of the confusion and nail her counterpart before the Zen Yahoos realised how slim the Bedlam Boys’ advantage was.
Then, without warning, it was over. The Yahoos were withdrawing, bleeding and shaken, the other Lucky calling Montoya a wych.
‘Ain’t no wychwork,’ shouted Twofingers with a smirk, ‘it’s just how real Bedlammers get things done!’
Victorious, the Bedlam Boys swarmed forward to collect the archaeotech left scattered round the dome.