Nuts and Beerstains

"Uh… I need backup here,

Pass me a shotgun,

Some grenades,

a Heavy Laser cutter

and a can of Bogunstein"

Arnold Bacon

Majellan - New London, Level Three - 3594

He sat inside the cabin of the dump truck, softly letting beer dribble down his chin. It was a quiet day and so he was content to sit at HQ and let his mind slowly turn to mush. The buzzer must have rung for quite a few minutes before his dissolving synapses registered the emergency call. "Ugh…" mumbled Arnold . "Yeah I'm here… what'd'ya want?" He frothed into the microphone.

                "Is that you Bacon?" Snapped the 42nd Commander of Garbage Disposal Level Three. "Get your fat butt on the road to 85th Street in the West Quarter on the double! There's some Festus trouble in the sewers outside number 11 and I want you down that hole pronto!"

"R-right, uh - on my way…" He kicked the MCV Recycler truck into action. It hurtled through the self-opening titanium alloy doors and onto the busy road.

                The force of the take off roused the sleeper in the back cab with a whack to the head.

"Hey - watch it!" Moaned Armytag Shanks, rubbing his bruised head.

The vehicle hit the asphalt with a crunch, sparks flared from the skirting boards as Arnold fought with the steering wheel.

"Uh… sorry there Arm, got an urgent job out West. Might as well get your gear on man - we'll be there in a few minutes."

"Shit - and I've still got a hangover from last night too - on top of the bruise you've given me…" moaned Armytag, whacking Arnold round the back of the head with his hand in a friendly kind of way.

Shortly after, in the back cab, could be heard the scrabbling, swearing and grunting of Armytag trying to leverage himself into his Festus Combat Plumbers Suit.

Not long after, he sighed a long contented sigh, which cut short as the truck came to a jerking stop sending Armytag flying into the front seat.

 "Hey, watch it Arm!" complained Arnold as he eased out of the driver’s seat.

 Armytag continued to moan as he picked himself off the passenger seat.

 "It's just going to be one of those days…"

 After Arnold had squeezed into his straining FCP suit and Armytag had had a long hard smoke of a thick and very evil looking cigarette, they both peered over a manhole in the middle of a squalid, rubbish filled alley way.  

"Those thing's'll kill you," said Arnold to Armytag over his can of Bogunstein Beer.

  "This job 'ill kill me first," answered Armytag, taking a last long toke before throwing the butt into the hole in front of him.

 The butt disappeared into the darkness and fizzled out not far below.

 They both looked at each other, seemed to exchange some kind of telepathic exchange which went along the lines of.

 'Well it didn't blow anything up!'

 'Yeah but when has that stopped us blowing up things before?'

 'You first then?'

'OK'

 Down in the sewers of Level Three the two intrepid Combat Plumbers gazed first left and then right into the darkness. Again the telepathic conversation seemed to ensue.

 'Left?'

 'OK'

 They both wandered off to the left, side by side as often as they could, although mostly it was Arnold that lead the way. He continued to slurp from a pipe that poked out of his Backpack and up and under his Anex Helmet.

 Armytag could be seen to look nervously over his shoulder from time to time, check his G-Watch every few seconds and continually mumble under his breath that Arnolds slurping was load enough to wake the dead, which is of course is what they would be if he kept it up.

 All in all this was typical combat procedure for the two sector 42 Combat Plumbers.

 "The Rads are starting to go up Arn," whispered Armytag into his Communicator, while still checking his G-Watch. "90 Rads and climbing"

 "Umph," replied Arnold in-between slurps. "There's a pipe up ahead with a gash the size of Braske. Prob'ly where th' Rads are coming from - slurp"

 The large 2 metre wide drainpipe they had been following ended at a vertical shaft. A bright yellow pipe ran from top to bottom with Radiation symbols littering the battered Glasteel casing. At the top the underside of a very battered manhole cover could be seen. A worn sign read "PRIV..TE PR..P..TY". From far below the gurgle and slosh of water gave away a broken water-recycling pipe.

 "Whoa - this place has been messed up bad. Looks like the culprits are long gone…" said Armytag, wiping his metaphorical brow.

  Arnold turned around to give Armytag a stern look. "You KNOW every time you say that - something happens"

 And of course something did.

 From below, the wet slap of skin on Ackrin gave away a creature on the move.

 "Shit!" shouted Armytag.

 A shadow sprung from the depths onto Arnold ’s back. Arnold sucked in a last gulp of beer before launching himself to the side while Armytag reached for his trusty Bowie knife.

  Arnold crashed into the side wall not far from the yellow Rad pipe with all his strength. The Festus hung on - and bit with all its might into the back of Arnold ’s neck.

  "Get the fucker off of me!" screamed Armold. At which point Armytag thrust his knife into the body of the Festus. There was a gurgled cry and the Festus leapt from Arnold ’s back, falling down the shaft into the water below with a splash.

 Without a word Armytag wrestled with his Backpack and pulled out his MedKit.

  "Here man, take one of these," he said, popping a small grey pill with "I3" stamped on it into Arnold ’s slackened mouth.

 He then peered over the edge to make sure no other company might be joining them. Far below the thump of metal on metal gave way the wounded Festus. It was banging out a Morse code signal to its brothers.

 He grabbed a bandage and secured it to Arnolds neck.

 "Come on man - we've got to get going."

Arnold mumbled agreement from his fevered slumber. The Festus poison was working fast on his metabolism, blotches were already appearing on his skin.

Armytag lifted the heavy Plumber over his shoulder, and began to drag him back the way they had come.

From below the drumming on pipes came to an abrupt halt.

'That's bad,' thought Armytag.

"Hang in there matey," he said, dropping Arnold unceremoniously to the floor. A pool of spilt Bogunstein beer flowed around Armytag’s feet as he frantically grappled for something in his Backpack.

At the chambers edge greedy, black on black, glinting eyes stared over the rim. Sharp claw like hands, some clutching cruelly barbed blades, eased themselves up and into the main pipe.

Fear and sweat began to show in Armytag’s blood shot brown eyes. One hand still stuck in his Backpack, he flicked on his mounted Heavy Laser Cutter. The faint crackle of ionised air started around the metre long, thin blue light beam. The Festus paused in their advance. Armytag’s hand grabbed something cold and cylindrical.

Armytag grinned a lop-sided and slightly pervy smile.

He threw the grenade with all his might. The small cylinder glanced off the other side of the chamber and began its descent into the water below, when it remembered that it was supposed to blow up when it hit something.

The flames licked the ceiling; the pipe walls and the charred, twisted bodies began to fall into the torrent below.

Armytag lifted his arm away from sheltering his eyes and gave another of his long 'it really is one of those days’ sighs. He stared over at Arnold .

"Time to get you out of here." He checked his friend’s health. He was foaming green stuff at the mouth. "Told you that stuff was bad for you," he mumbled. Arnold didn't look like he was going to make it back to the truck alive.

"No choice old chum - let's go"

He began to drag the lumbering heap back down the pipe when he heard the softest of footfalls from in front of him.

"May I be of assistance?" a heavily Imperial accented voice said.

Armytag stopped. He looked up slowly into the eyes of a tall Sergie-cloaked stranger.

Crap, thought Armytag. Now I have a Sergie to deal with.

"Look man, I've had a bad morning and I got to get back to my truck. I won't give you any gyp if you don't give me any," he said waving the laser beam threateningly in the general direction of the Sergie.

"I don't think you understand," said the stranger. "I can help your friend. You see, I have this." He said holding out a small box in his right hand. Yellow light began to creep from the joins of the box, light spilled from his hand like thick water.

"Let me heal him," said Tan, a thin wavy voice from the ether.

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