Necromunda: Deadly Business

Chaper 7: No Good Deed

Wyl awoke with one of the worst headaches he could remember. It didn't help that he was hungover, his cheek swollen, and he was only able to see out of one eye. His mouth felt like it had bone ash in it, and his tongue felt as though it was glued in place. It further didn't help that F1-D0 was lying on top of him. To a passer-by, it looked as though the cyber-mastiff was staking a claim to a kill, but Wyl possibly had the best security in all of Tradesberg - if not the heaviest. Even without the full weight on his chest, Wyl was having a hard time breathing and a worse time getting up.

It required some wiggling, pushing, pleading, and a prayer to the Emperor, but Wyl managed to get his loyal companion off of him. Once mostly conscious he tried to wrangle his brain into remembering the scenarios that lead him to this moment. Nearly all of it was in a hazed blur, but certain memories managed to bubble up. He remembered how the Road Captain punched him for perceived disobedience. How Piston threw him out, not almost losing an arm to F1-D0 if Wyl hadn't ordered him to back off. He had gone to the Sump to sulk, but Lizzy had come to see him with a bottle of Wild Snake. He wished he could remember what he had told her, but there was an annoying blank spot. Wyl hoped that he didn't say anything that he would regret.

From over by the entrance to Scarlet Alley, above which a series of red lanterns still burned even in this gloomy green haze of the Sump, he heard the sound of weeping. The more cautious part of his mind told him to move on, to avoid any more trouble. The curious part egged him on to investigate. The battle was over in heartbeats, and he marched over to the mouth of the alley. He saw an older woman weeping. She was bent over something and then leaned back and let out a terrible wail of anguish. No one else seemed to be paying much heed. Misery was abundant in Tradesberg, especially along the docks, and no one had much reason to go helping someone who wasn't associated with one of the gangs. So when it came to someone else's misery, it was better to leave them to suffer alone.

"What's the matter, Sister?" Wyl asked.

"Who are you callin' "sister," Sump boy?" The older woman responded. There was anger in her voice, that much was obvious. Unfortunately for him, she was looking for someone to focus it on, to distract herself from her grief. Wyl just happened to be the closest target.

"I meant no offense," he said, still trying to be polite, but his pride as an SDC member gave his voice an unnecessary bitterness. Studying her, Wyl determined that he couldn't place her age, all he knew was that she was older than him - but not by much. She just looked much older. Then again he'd met Spook addicts that were the same age as him, but looked like living skeletons. Her face had two teardrop tattoos under each eye that clashed with the real tears going down her face, cutting rivulets through her make-up. A dockgirl, he decided, one of those who sold herself to the sailors, dregs, and SDC for a throne a tumble. Then he looked at her feet and a faint thrill of shock passed through him as he saw why she was crying. "Was she... uh, a friend of yours?"

"You a Zeta? X-Brigade?" She said aggressively. She reached out and grabbed Wyl by his red jacket, thrusting her face close to him. "You an Inquisitor?"

Wyl wanted to laugh. The docks had always been SDC territory, and everyone in them wore their colors proudly. It would be hard to confuse him with the grey and green of the local Enforcers, and he never met an Inquisitor - to his knowledge. He knew little about the Emperor's Holy Inquisition, but rumors made them sound like the biggest and baddest gang around. Some said that they could make whole planets disappear.

Wyl tried to gently remove her hands, but her aggression and sadness gave her more strength than he realized. F1-D0 moved between the two of them once Wyl broke free, metal plates rising on the back of his neck the same way his organic cousins would raise their hackles.