Da Cybork Menace

Chapta 1

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 Da Cybork Menace

Prologue

Chapta 1

Chapta 2 

Chapta 3 

Chapta 4 

Chapta 5 

Chapta 6 

Chapta 7 

Chapta 8 

Chapta 9 

Chapta 10 

Chapta 11 

Chapta 12 

Chapta 13 

Chapta 14 

Chapta 15 

Chapta 16 

Chapta 17 

Chapta 18 

Chapta 19 

Chapta 20 

Chapta 21 

Chapta 22 

Chapta 23 

Chapta 24 

Epilogue 


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“Do ya want dat squiggoth sizin’ for an extra tooth?” the gretchin asked after writing the order down on his slate.

Hazug Throatslitter of the Blood Axe clan frowned.

“Wot does dat mean den?” he asked.

“Ya ‘ave ordered three meals for one tooth each,” the gretchin began, “so with our special offer for tonight ya can squiggoth size all of ‘em for an extra tooth.”

“Yeah, but wot does ‘squiggoth sizin’’ mean?”

“It means dat ya get an extra piece of da squig pie each, plus da beer jug is ‘alf as big again.”

The two headed ork sat opposite Hazug leaned towards the gretchin and one of the heads spoke.

“Da jug may be bigger, but is dare any more beer in it?”

“It’s full,” the gretchin replied nervously, not sure what to make of the giant mutant ork staring at him.

“Okay den,” Two Head’s other head said, “’E’ll pay for it,” and Two Head’s pointed at the head that had spoken first. That head frowned and tried to stare the other in the eyes.

“I’ll get it,” Hazug said, reaching into his money pouch for another tooth. He was eager to eat, and didn’t want the bar destroying by another of Two Heads Smasha Butt Face’s infamous arguments with himself. The gretchin took the money and rushed off to the kitchen.

“So wot’s dis new place ya is livin’ in like den?” one of Two Heads asked Hazug.

“I got me an entire buildin’,” Hazug replied, “even comes with somewhere to park me trukk so no one can nick it. Sophie gets ‘er own room, and dare’s an ‘ole under da stairs where Ratish can sleep in ‘is box, so dey is both out of me way.”

“Ow did ya afford dat?”

“Didn’t need to. Da last nob dat owned it got ‘imself killed when we did in Warboss Zhalrad, and Warboss Kromag said dat I could ‘ave it as a reward for ‘elpin’ ‘im out.”

“Dat don’t sound like Kromag,” Two Heads said.

“No it don’t,” the other head agreed, and they both nodded.

“It’s right near Git Town,” Hazug explained, “so no-one else in Kromag’s mob wanted it anyway.”

Both of Two Heads nodded again, more slowly this time, as they took this in.

“So dat’s why we is eatin’ in ‘ere den, rather dan da usual place near where ya used to live.”

At this point the serving gretchin reappeared with a tray full of food and drink. He placed the tray on the table and while Hazug and Two Heads each took a plate of food and poured themselves some beer he dashed off to take an order from a newly arrived group of orks.

“If Gorrid aint ‘ere soon,” one of Two Heads said, “Den I’m avin’ ‘is too,” the other one finished. But as soon as he had finished the sentence, Gorrid appeared at the entrance to the bar.

“Over ‘ere lad,” Hazug called out, waving to Gorrid.

Gorrid came over to the table; he sat down and took the third meal.

“Wot’s up with ‘ow ya is walkin’ lad?” Hazug asked, noticing the new arrival’s awkward gait.

“It’s me new leg,” Gorrid replied. He had lost a leg during a battle with human assassins when Hazug had first dealt with Two Heads and his mob, and it was only recently that he had been able to afford to have another one stitched on.

“Wot’s up with it?” Hazug asked.

“Show ‘im lad,” Two Heads said. Gorrid bent down under the table and undid his boots and lifted both his feet up onto the table.

“Ah,” said Hazug as he saw the two right feet that Gorrid now possessed, “I see da problem. Did ya know dat da leg da painboy was stitchin’ on was da same as da one ya still ‘ad before ‘e did it?”

“All dat ‘e said was dat it was cheap,” Gorrid said as he put his boots back on and poured himself a drink, “and den I woke up with both feet da same and ‘is lads chucked me out before I could complain.”

“At least ya don’t ‘ave much walkin’ to do,” one of Two Heads said while the other crammed food into his mouth, “ya can still drive da wagon better dan any of da new lads.”

Gorrid began to eat, but as he did so the attention of everyone in the bar was distracted by a crashing sound from near the entrance. The sound caused the occupants of the bar to look around, many expecting to see a gretchin busy cleaning up a dropped tray, but instead they saw something far more interesting.

An ork wearing armour that covered much of his body and consisted of metal plates supported by pistons and motors to offset the weight had burst into the bar by smashing his way through the wall next to the open doorway, and was now attacking the patrons sat at nearest table. A cheer went up across the bar, and orks left their tables and moved closer for a better look at the fight now developing.

“Dis aint right,” Hazug said as one of the orks that had been drinking at the table was hurled across the bar room by the newcomer.

“Wot’s up with it?” Two Heads asked over the cheering of the crowd.

“Dat lad’s wearin’ mega armour,” Hazug said, “and not even Warboss Kromag’s got any of dat, so where does a regular lad get it from?”

Before Two Heads could reply there were cries of surprise from crowd members nearer to the fight as the mega-armoured ork suddenly broke off from attacking the orks at the table by the hole in the wall and lunged into the crowd, lashing out randomly.

“I reckon ya’s right,” Two Heads both said in unison.

“We better do somethin’ den,” Hazug said, and he drew his pistol and blade. Two Heads both grinned and pulled his axe from beneath the table. Then, throwing smaller orks out the way and with Gorrid following close behind, the two nobs charged towards the heavily armoured ork.

When Hazug and Two Heads reached the fight itself their opponent had his back to them, and the pair took advantage of this to aim blows from their weapons towards his shoulders and knees, hoping to find weaker points in the thick armour that protected him. None of the blows penetrated however, but the distraction caused the armoured ork to turn to face them and allowed his previous target to be dragged away by his friends.

Hazug and Two Heads now had a clear view of their opponent. Much of his face was heavily scarred, and a metal cap fixed to his skull had replaced the top of his head. He had not opened his mouth to say a single word since entering the bar, but Hazug was still able see that metal glinted from within his mouth. In fact he could not see any teeth sticking out at all.

The armoured ork swung an arm that was encased within a massive clawed gauntlet and sent Hazug flying backwards, causing him to drop both his pistol and blade. He landed on a nearby table, which shattered beneath him. Stunned, he lay still for a moment. The blow from a power claw should have smashed his rib cage and turned his internal organs to jelly, but it clearly wasn’t working properly so it was nothing more than a heavy spiked club. Grateful for this small mercy Hazug looked back at the fight where Two Heads and Gorrid were now engaging the armoured ork without him. Someone threw a chair, which smashed over the back of the armoured ork and caused it to turn once more and attack in a new direction.

Hazug saw his pistol lying on the floor and scooped it up before firing two rounds at the armoured ork’s back. The sound of the gunfire was followed by the sound of the bullets bouncing harmlessly off the armour protecting the ork, and it did not even bother to turn around again. However, Hazug’s use of a firearm had escalated matters and other orks in the bar now also drew what guns they had and began to open fire.

Sparks flew from the armour as round after round bounced off without causing any damage, and some orks fell as the ricocheting shots hit them instead.

Hazug returned his pistol to its holster and looked around for a knife. One lay on the floor where it had fallen from a table only a short distance away, and he quickly picked it up. Bullets and combat blades were bouncing off not only the thick armour platting covering most of the mysterious ork, but also off its exposed head, probably owing the large amount of metal that appeared to now be part of it. The smaller eating utensil may just offer a way of defeating him however, Hazug thought.

With his tiny weapon gripped firmly in his hand, Hazug charged the armoured ork from behind and jumped onto his back.

“’Old ya fire!” Two Heads yelled as he saw his friend now clearly in the line of fire, and most of the guns in the room immediately fell silent, the remainder ceasing fire moments later as their owners realised that the ork who had given the command to stop was much bigger then they were.

The armoured ork flailed his arms about, trying to dislodge Hazug from his back, but the bulk of the armour now worked in Hazug’s favour, and he retained his grip with his empty hand. He reached around the armour and pressed the small knife against the ork’s face. He slid the knife across the ork’s face until it reached his eye, and then he pressed down hard and pushed the blade through his opponent’s eyeball and the thinner behind it and into his brain cavity.

Hazug released his grip on both the knife and the armoured ork, expecting his death throws to cease rapidly and for him to lie down and die. But the armoured ork continued to flail his arms about with the knife still sticking out of his ruined eye and lunged towards another nearby ork, grasping him by his neck and crushing it.

“Wot in da name of Gork ‘n Mork does it take to kill dis lad?” Hazug said out loud as he got back to his feet and retrieved his blade.

Two Heads and Gorrid were now engaging the armoured ork once more while most of the bar’s other patrons were making for the exit. Hazug charged again with his blade held out in front of him, yelling as he did so.

“Waaargh!”

The cry caused the armoured ork to turn in Hazug’s direction, and the blade was now pointing directly at his face. Hazug lowered his weapon slightly as he neared the ork; just enough for it slip beneath his head and plunge into his throat. There was a spurt of blood as the blade broke through the ork’s hide, followed by a crunch as it broke through his spine. The armoured ork’s one remaining eye suddenly opened wide and Hazug withdrew his weapon and steppe aside just in time as his opponent toppled over. The massive bulk of the mega armour fell to the floor with a crash, and its occupant lay still, dead at last.

Two Heads and Gorrid moved to stand beside Hazug as he starred down at the body of their assailant.

“Well,” said Two Heads, “we must do this again.”

“Next time we get take out,” Hazug said, “’Ow about my place tomorrow?”

“I’ll bring da beer.”

 

As Hazug, Two Heads and Gorrid were leaving the bar a group of gretchin arrived with a handcart and began to load the bodies of fallen orks onto it for disposal. Hazug stopped outside and looked along the street. As far as he could see there were signs of recent damage, apparently the mega-armoured ork had been on something of a rampage before he burst into the bar.

“Dis is weird,” Hazug said out loud, and Two Heads and Gorrid also stopped and looked along the street.

“One lad did all dat?” Gorrid said, staring at the damaged buildings and vehicles.

“’E did ‘ave mega-armour,” Two Heads pointed out.

“Exactly,” Hazug said, “But like I said in da bar, ‘ow did ‘e get it? Da warboss ‘imself don’t ‘ave any, and dat lad wasn’t even a nob.”

“I got a nasty feelin’ dat ya is about to start pokin’ ya nose into somethin’ again,” Two Heads said.

“Yeah, me too,” the other one added.

“Ya is both right,” Hazug said, and he went back inside the bar.

There was only a single living ork remaining inside the bar, the manager who was going through the pockets and mouths of the bodies to recover any valuables that they may have on them to pay for the damage caused, and possibly buy him something else nice if he was lucky. Meanwhile groups of gretchin were clearing bodies, occasionally pocketing something valuable for themselves while the manager wasn’t looking, and fixing furniture.

“We is closed,” the ork said as Hazug entered the bar, then he saw who it was, “Oh its you. Nice work killin’ dat lad before ‘e wrecked everythin’, but da loot is mine. Da sign says so,” and the ork pointed at a sign on the wall that read: ALL DA LOOT FROM FIGHTIN’ BELONGS TO KROKA KRUPFANG (DA OWNER!).

“I aint interested in da loot,” Hazug said.

Kroka looked puzzled, but Hazug just strode over to where the corpse of the mega-armoured ork still lay face down, too heavy for the gretchin to move. Hazug knelt down by the body, and with a mighty heave, he rolled it over onto its back. Then he opened its mouth and took a look inside.

“Watcha doin’?” Kroka demanded as he came over to look at what Hazug was doing, “’Is teeth is mine.”

“Wot teeth?” Hazug said, and he pointed into the dead ork’s mouth.

Kroka stopped, and let out a gasp of surprise when he saw that there was not a single tooth in the mouth of the dead ork. Instead they had all been replaced with sharpened metal spikes.

“Why would ‘e ‘ave dat done?” the manager said.

There were reasons why and ork may loose all of his teeth, he could need money quickly, or he could loose a fight and have them stolen, but no ork would have his teeth replaced with near worthless metal fangs.

“’E wouldn’t,” Hazug stated, “So someone else must ‘ave done it to ‘im,” then he stood up.

“But who? If ‘e ‘ad no teeth ‘e wouldn’t be able to pay for it. Or dat armour for dat matter, I bet dat’s worth a few teeth.”

“I needs ya to keep dis body ‘ere and not touch it,” Hazug told Kroka.

“For ‘ow long?” Kroka asked, “’E’s taking up a lot of room, and ‘e’ll start to stink soon. Even grots won’t eat near a rottin’ body.”

“I’ll be back before too long,” Hazug reassured him, “I need to get someone who knows wot dey is doin’ when dey start cuttin’ up a body.”

“Wot is cuttin’ ‘im up supposed to do?”

“Tell us wot ‘appened to ‘im,” Hazug said, and with that he left the bar once more.

 

There were plenty of painboys who kept their surgeries open late. The hours of darkness provided a good income for them to deal with the after effects of the inevitable bar room brawls and pulling teeth for orks who needed money quickly to settle a debt, so Hazug had no trouble in locating one.

“Wot’s up with ya?” the gretchin sat behind the reception table asked.

“Nothin’,” Hazug said, ”I just need to see da dok.”

“Ah, need teeth pullin’ den. Da dok charges one tooth for every three ‘e pulls.”

“I don’t want any teeth pullin’ either,” Hazug replied.

“So wot do ya want den?” the gretchin demanded.

“I just needs to talk to da dok.”

“Talk? I aint tellin’ ‘im dat ya just wants to talk. E’ll thump me.”

“I’ll thump ya if ya don’t go in dare and tell ‘im,” Hazug said, slamming a fist into his palm for emphasis, “and I’ll bet I can thump ya ‘arder dan ‘e can.”

The gretchin ran into the back room where the painboy saw his patients. There was a deep yell of “Talk?” before the sound of a fist striking bone. Hard. Then the gretchin reappeared, clutching a hand over an eye.

“Da dok will see ya now,” he said.

Dok Brok was larger than most normal orks, but he was barely big enough for him to be called a nob, and Hazug was still taller than him. For Hazug, that made things easier.

“I need ya to come take a look at a body,” Hazug said.

“I don’t do ‘ouse calls,” Dok Brok snapped back.

“Well dat’s just fine,” Hazug replied, “it aint in an ‘ouse, its in a bar.”

The painboy paused for a moment, confused by Hazug’s comment.

“Ya’ll be paid,” Hazug said, and Dok Brok grinned.

“I want two teeth,” he stated.

“Deal,” and Hazug took the cash from his pocket and tossed the teeth to Brok. The painboy then took a few moments to gather some of his equipment before he spoke again.

“Rights let’s go,” he said, “ya ‘ad best lead da way,” then as the pair passed through the reception area he spoke to his gretchin assistant, “I is goin’ out. Anyone who needs me can either wait or sod off,” he said.

Most of the debris had been cleared away by the time Hazug returned to Kroka’s bar, but as Hazug requested the body of the ork in the mega armour remained untouched. When he saw the corpse Brok paused. Kroka himself was still there, and he welcomed Dok Brok into his bar.

“Da sooner ya finish, da sooner I can open up again,” he said, “so get a bloody move on will ya.”

“Well I reckon ‘e’s dead,” he said, “I can tell on account of ‘is ‘ead is hangin’ off at a funny angle.”

“I know dat,” Hazug said, “I is da one who tried to cut ‘is ‘ead off. For two teeth ya is goin’ to ‘ave to tell me somethin’ I don’t already know.”

Dok Brok set his bag down next to the body and took a closer look. He poked at partially severed head that was the only flesh exposed from inside the heavily armoured suit that encased the ork.

“Hmm,” the painboy said, poking the dead ork’s face, “I think ‘e wos dead.”

“Ya ‘ave already said dat,” Hazug said, “and ya aint getting’ paid if dat’s da best ya can do.”

“I mean dat ‘e wos dead before ya killed ‘im, dat's why e’s got no teeth, cos someone else nicked ‘em already,” Dok Brok said, “but I’m goin’ to ‘ave to get ‘im out of dis suit and cut ‘im up a bit to find out for sure,” and he stood up and walked to the door to the street.

Dok Brok looked outside, and when he saw the group of gretchin corpse movers nearby he yelled at them.

“Oi grots! Get ya selves an empty cart and get back ‘ere with it, dare’s more moving’ to be done!” then he came back inside.

“I’ll ‘ave da body moved to me surgery and cut ‘im open, “Dok Brok told Hazug, “but whoever I find in dare belongs to me. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Hazug said, “I just need to know wot ya find.”

Hazug left the bar just as the group of gretchin returned with a cart with which to move the dead ork and Dok Brok began barking instructions at them. No one noticed another gretchin watching them from the shadows across the street.

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