This is yet another 'fresh' story thread... What can I say... I was watching the movie Aliens the other day and I threw together a gang for fun... and then the story plot line just came to mind... who knows. Maybe this will be yet another story line. :)
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Smoke billowed forth from several ruined crates and make shift wagons. The dead and untended wounded where sprawled throughout the wreckage, all the while a score and two large muscle bound men moved about picking through the carnage seeing what could be scavenged. Among it all stood one who was a full head taller, his Mohawk hair cut dyed in a garish green and looked as if it flowed from his eye brows right up and over and down his spine. He surveyed the scene with an appreciation of the devastation that only years of growing up in the fighting pits could glean.
“Tig! Where are you, you sump rat!”
“Right here boss!”
The Goliath leader turned to face his second in time to see him dragging a massive chain linking four survivors by their necks.
“I think you’re going to like this batch, boss. One in particular shows promise.”
Gorthump sized up the men. He was about to berate his subordinate for bothering him with such pitiful examples of weakness when his eyes fell upon the last in line, a small metal pendant hanging by a chain around his neck.
“What is this Tig? A Guilder?”
“Better boss. This here’s the son of a Guilder.”
“Ya did good Tig, real good.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The echo of the gun shot waned as the body of the messenger slumped to floor, the foot twitching one more time as it continued to receive uncontrolled nerve impulses.
The body guard slowly lowered the gun as the Guilder spat on the corpse. “Let that be a lesson to you. Never preface your message with ‘please don’t shoot the messenger”, the obviously obese man said with contempt.
“Thank you Rieson”, he said turning to the man now holstering his stub gun, his guilders badge swaying as he shifted his weight to turn. “Activate my contract with that house down in Hive City. The day I pay ransom to some gutter scum from below the wall will be the day I lose my seat with the Guild.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Ghoulman walked into the barracks bay allotted for his two teams liked he belonged. Few looked up, the rest just ignored the Lieutenant. What did he know about running these special operations? He was hardly older than a juvie. Even his lone stubber in its underarm holster looked like it hadn’t even been taken out to be oiled. His face showed no signs of any facial hair and his eyes still shone brightly, not hardened by years of seeing what life was really like this close to the Underhive.
“Alright, listen up!” the kid called out. “We’ve got an op in just six hours and we’re up for rotation.”
The struggle to decide if the kid should just be ignored or if they responded – if they could conceal their contempt for their assigned officer.
“I want weapons issued and equipment prepped in three hours. Personal gear for this op is not authorized so I do not want to see any in the briefing room.”
“What’s the op”, an obviously older man from the rear of the room called out.
“You will learn that in the briefing. Now you have your orders. Suit up.” With that the kid turned on his heals and walked out.
“Why is it we get to baby sit some elder’s kid when Devon here paid his dues? “
“Shut up Suez. We’ve all got to tag along on this trip and we don’t need your mouth running the whole time.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The fifteen men climbed the spiral stair case leading up to an ancient cargo container stacked in some long forgotten age. To a man they carried their assigned weapons and kit. While they waited they all checked the chem counters on their body suits. House Van Saar took pride in their appearance and equipment. And teams such as this were highly lucrative. Essentially teams of mercenaries usually hired by the guild to escort caravans through out hive city, or even down into the Underhive. Teams such as Ghoulman’s Ghosts (officially designated as Team Yang) were given the luxury of the latest body suits, and an extra heavy weapons team. Despite the team being led by a raw Lieutenant – and thus their new name – they had been bumped to the top of the rotational order.
“Finally,” the kid as he was now actively being called addressed the gang. “Quiet down.” A few of the more veteran members veiled their displeasure in continued coughing, but despite this the kid continued on. “Alright, we are next on the rotation and will be moving down hive. Our mission is to either rescue the son of a guilder from a local band from House Goliath known as the “Band of Iron”, or bring back his body and the heads of his captors.”
The murmuring picked up some, but with no direct questions Ghoulman continued on. “The kid,” this caused more than a few chuckles from those assembled. Looking around trying to discern the humor the Lieutenant continued. “As I was saying, the kid was taken prisoner by the Band of Iron about two day cycles ago. A note has been delivered with a ransom demand, however Guilder Truvail has decided it is not in his best interest to pay it. Rather he wishes to send a message to such vermin that he is not to be so annoyed again. We will be hitting the Goliaths during the night cycle after next. Guilder Truvail was explicit in his instructions. There is to be one survivor, and only one. This is for the lucky mutant to share the tail of his retribution.”
Ghoulman scanned the assembled men for any form of reaction but by this point they were all business. “Alright then. We move out in twenty minutes.”
No questions about their route of march, no inspections of equipment. More than one man thought they had gotten over on their new leader. Little did they know that these discretions were to bite them in their ass before it was all over.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
“Beta section sound off damn it!” Ghoulman was remarkably calm for his first actual combat. The raid had kicked off without a single hitch to the surprise of more than most of his team. But in the last fifteen minutes things had began to get a little thick. Alpha section had reported two men down, and Beta was reporting a loss of four. Still the perimeter was holding against the Goliaths counter attacks, and the brutes guarding the pens where they kept their prisoners had just been taken down.
“Sir, we’ve freed three prisoners. One Esher female,” the rest of the communication became garbled as the woman loudly protested the reference. “Excuse me sir. One woman and two men, one is the guilder’s son.”
“Very good, escort them to pit here on the main level. Alpha, how’s the perimeter holding up?”
“Sir, we have great fields of fire and the Goliaths have pulled back for now.”
“Very well.” Ghoulman smiled. This was going almost too well. He might be able to pull a bonus out of this one.
Tix opened up a small hatch in the corner and escorted the three to his Lieutenant. “Good work Tix, I need your men positioned for an assault to clear a way through. The Goliaths have apparently spent their energies attempting to regain their little sty here. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Tix shifted his weight. He seemed poised to broach some sort of forbidden subject and then shook his head and motioned for his team to get into position.
“What is it Tix? We don’t have all cycle here.”
Tix signaled for his section to move out without him and returned. “Well sir. We didn’t want to leave our wounded behind. I doubt these monsters will treat them much better than these here” he said nodding his head in the direction of the freed prisoners.
Ghoulman thought it over. He could hardly spare the fire power and obvious impact on his team’s mobility… but if he ordered them left behind he might never gain the trust if his men. “Very well. Have those that are helping the wounded hand off their ammunition.”
As his section moved on Ghoulman turned to the captives, “can you all fight?” The two men had been worked over. The guilder’s son just shook his head, while the other man clutched a mangled hand.
“Pathetic,” the woman said shaking her head. Reaching down to pick up an autogun from an obviously dead Van Saar she looked the kid in the eye. “Let’s just get out of here.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Ghoulman peered through the dim light across the dunes. This was where the guilder had arranged to pick up his son, but nothing was moving. It had been a full three shift cycles since he received confirmation of the exchange site but there had been no sign of the guilder’s retinue – until now. The din of the approaching caravan wafted across the wasteland even before the glow of their lanterns could be seen.
“We wait until they reach the middle of the dome,” the young lieutenant whispered to no one in particular.
Once the guilder was in place Ghoulman left his two heavies and their assistants in position and brought his team out into the open. Once the two parties were only ten meters apart he brought them to a halt.
“Guilder Truvail! I believe we have something of yours here,” Ghoulman called out.
“He had best be in good condition Van Saar!,” came the reply.
With that Ghoulman stepped out with his prize beside him. A pair of Van Saar turned bounty hunters stepped form the far crowd. Between them they carried a small chest with one hand, their free one resting upon the hilts of nicely crafted pistols of some sort. The ‘Kid’ let his eyes rest on those pistols for a half second and when he returned to the bounty hunters faces smiles greeted him.
“Alright th…” CRACK! Just as Ghoulman released his hold on the package the sonic boom of a large bore rifle resonated off the walls and ceiling of the dome. The warriors from both parties instinctively flinched and sought out cover. The sound of las weapons charging and slug weapons cocking quickly drowned out further echoes and made further isolation of the sniper’s location.
The guilder’s son fell face down where he once stood. He head bouncing once as neither of his hands moved to break his fall.
“What the hell just happened?!?” Ghoulman called into his comm.-link. “Don’t know for sure L.T. but the shot came from the 2 o’clock position. About thirty meters behind the guilder’s caravan.”
“Liam!” Cried the rotund guilder. “What have you done to my son you butchers!”
Ghoulman stood up and pointed in the direction his team had indicated and drew his pistol. As he looked back to call his team forward the bounty hunters let loose a pair of hurried shots. Fortunately for the Van Saar ‘Kid’ both sailed wide, but the effect caused him to hit the dirt once more.
“What the fek! What do you think you’re doing!”
“You bastards won’t get away with betraying me like this!”
And the incoming fire grew in intensity. The two heavy stubbers left behind began to bark in response.
“Stop shooting you idiots! You want to get us outlawed!?!”
Then the incoming fire inched closer and closer to the now prone Van Saar team leader.
“Uh, sir. I don’t think they want to negotiate. They obviously believe we’re responsible…”
“Fek!” was all the ‘Kid’ could muster. He tried repeatedly to convince the guilder and his band that they were innocent but once the scummer bounded over the dune lip and tried to take his head off Ghoulman realized that he had best salvage the situation and get his team out of the area. By some miracle he managed to get clear of the dune wastes without further loss. But when he tried to return home his team was met at the edge of hive city.
It was made clear that the little ‘misunderstanding’ with Guilder Truvail had forced the house guild masters to rescind their mercenary charter. What’s more, they were considered outlaws. Only the intervention of the house leaders prevented them from being charged with killing a guilder – technically the kid was not a guilder and thus they were sparred permanent banishment. But it was unlikely they would ever be allowed to set foot back in hive city.
And thus Ghoulman and his band of Van Saar, Ghoulman's Ghosts begin their crusade to clear their names.
