Promotion

“What is this,” Fist asked hefting the heavy dataslate to read it.

“Your promotion orders. You’re moving on Sergeant Fist.”

Fist looked up at his patrol sergeant, then back down to the dataslate to see if it was some kind of joke. It looked real enough.

“But Sarge, I don’t get it. I haven't done anything spectacular. I’ve only just arrived last quarter.”

“You’re a natural leader Fist. I saw it immediately when I arrived here. The men looked to you after the death of your previous patrol sergeant. And don’t think that the arrest of that Delaque didn’t go unnoticed by those who sit all comfortable above ‘the wall’ neither.”

Fist sat there for a minute trying to absorb it all. He’d grown to think of the men of precinct 254A1 has his new gang, those who he could trust and those who could trust him. Boengeles especially, the patrol’s heavy stubber man. The poor man had suffered a horrible scar during the raid on the Delaque stronghold out in the wastes. The result was a genuine sense of fear by the commoners around the precinct house. When ever he was on patrol people would divert their eyes and move to the other side of the street, or duck quickly into a nearby doorway. He was more like a brother than a fellow enforcer.

“You don’t have much time. A Guilder caravan is leaving for the wall in two shift cycles.”

“Thanks Sarge. You think it’d be alright if I take a couple of guys down to ‘Purges’ for a few pints to celebrate?”

“I thought you’d want to. I gave Boanerges and couple of the others off this cycle. But if you miss the caravan you’re gonna have to hoof it solo all the way to the wall to make it for the next training cycle. And you better believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to be late for that.”

-=-=-=-=o=-=-=-=-

“Barkeep! Another round of snake for my boys here!” Fist shouted to apparently no one. When the four Enforcers had walked in the regulars slowly found other places they needed to be and the tavern owner seemed to always have something to do in the backroom. As a matter of fact the only denizens that seemed interested in what the Enforcers were up to were the local ladies of pleasure, bet even they kept a respectful distance.

“Ah, let’s blow this joint” Boanerges said standing up, swaying slightly to his left. Fist shrugged is shoulders and thought ‘why not’. The rest of the black clad Enforcers stood and headed for the door. As Fist reached the door he tossed a handful of ‘guilders’ on the bar.

The streets were mostly empty as the day cycle had long since ended so it was easy to find ‘Gavin’s’ place – the local gambling den. It was a place open twenty four imperial hours a day with the games and the entertainment running without stop. The place was packed but as the Enforcers moved to the back of the bar area the sea of people parted and then reformed behind them. As the four men set down the designated bar maid was promptly on there to take their order. Once she returned with their drinks the other two left to see to their fortunes at the various gaming tables, leaving Fist and Boanerges to their on-going conversation.

“So are you gonna take it?” Asked the bulky Enforcer.

Fist stared into his mug which was holding something so murky he didn’t dare contemplate what went into it. “I don’t know Bo, not entirely sure I have a choice.”

The two men sat starting into their mugs. “As soon as they give me a squad I’ll put in a request to get you pulled over.”

The big Enforcer just grunted, but as he opened his mouth to speak the crashing of a table overturning interrupted further conversation. “Looks like it’s time we were on our way…”

Along the wall closest to the exit one of their fellow Enforcers was in a lively discussion with another patron of the gambling hall.

“You boys walk the streets all high and mighty. You ain’t so tough. So far from your house, and with out your fancy armor.” The crowd slowly pulled back from the pair.

“Look, you’re just not that good of a bones player. Let me make amends for taking your money. Here, let me buy you another drink. Barkeep!...”

The other man was obviously drunk and it was fueling his bravado. Squaring up his shoulders he pulled up a pant leg revealing a concealed stubber.

“Look friend, you don’t want that kind of trouble. Why don’t we…”

With a speed that defied his condition the drunk was dropping to one knee and drawing his pistol. As his arm came level a loud crack broke the silence as the small explosive projectile impacted squarely on his forehead. The arm continued its upward motion, but the now lifeless finger convulsed upon the trigger launching its lethal payload. An unsuspecting woman standing behind the enforcer cried out.

The opposing Enforcer didn’t look behind him but slowly rotated keeping his now smoldering Bolt pistol in front of him. The other three Enforcers now had their pistols drawn.

“Come on Fenrer. We best get you home before you cause any more trouble and cost me more guilders.”

-=-=-=-=o=-=-=-=-

Shortly before lights up the shadowed figure slung a combat shotgun across his back and reached down to pick up his heavy bag. With nothing more than a soft shuffle of his boots he made his way down the long barracks hall, stopping briefly before the last door. Setting the bag down he pulled a small envelop from his jacket and slid it under the door. He then paused a moment, then turned and reached for the handle.

“Your caravan doesn’t leave for another cycle. You gonna just up and leave like that?”

Fist turned back to face the man at the other end of the hall. “Yea Sarge. I, um, made arrangements with another caravan. They leave at lights up.”

“Well, you best get going then.”

Without another word Fist slipped out into the compound and the shadows beyond.

-=-=-=-=o=-=-=-=-

The rusty gate shuddered under an impact that threatened to break the hinges. Moaning and painful grunts from within the large sewer grew louder. “Make way you scabs! Make way for Pustful or its into the pot with you!”

From the deep shadows came a tall figure. With a autogun propped over his shoulder held in his right hand and his left holding a heavy looking scepter he came to the fore. “I know you lads have the strength. Stop playing around and let’s get on with it. Beyond lies meat, fresh meat.”

The two large scab and puss covered mutants grunted their agreement and in unison threw their massive bulks once more upon the grate causing the rusty hinges to shatter. The gate now swung using the locking mechanism as an awkward hinge.

“Let’s go boys! It’s fresh meat tonight!”