Primal Gambit

Chapter 53: The Scorchers

The dank underground spat dust down onto the long-legged table, around which stood the nastiest crew Tabby's Parts and Repair had to offer. An old era phonograph whistled otherworldly tunes from the 1950s, adding a sense of detachment to the area – as if it belonged in another world. The scorching crew didn't know or understand the words that bled with the agonizing melody, but they all hummed in unison. The vinyl was one of only a few that had been salvaged so far. Most of the ancient relics had long been traded for current-age necessities. Countless buzzards clung to the wall-mounted lightbulbs, floating in the air like hazardous spores. A layer of smoke hung as Axle chewed on the end of a cigar. 

He looked over information strewn about the table before him, studying the makeshift pieces as best he could. Certain people or places had been replaced by decrepit action figures that were scavenged by some of the more young-minded. The head of the crew glanced at Drexel but said nothing as he watched the lesser man holster his flamethrower to retrieve two of the figurines – starting to play with them. He bashed them together violently, contorting the plastic arms as he made explosion noises. Crow turned and laughed while the two brothers Grog and Gruel mumbled profanities and nudged one another in brewing hostility.

Axle sent his two best trackers out – Tweetie and Spit, to stalk their prey within the Inner City. Scouting parties never ventured beyond the confines of The Yard; going into the city was off-limits due to their appearance and lack of ability to fit in with the bands of civvies that would immediately determine them as threats. This expedition required the two men to leave their comfort zones – they had breached the great wall that had been built by the government to keep The Yard out. In the shroud of the night Tweetie and Spit slipped past a checkpoint unnoticed. Once they were beyond the wall and wandering The Outskirts, asking strangers of varying monetary value on information regarding their target, it was up to their sheer willpower to reject the various offers to purchase barbiturates and forget the mission entirely. It was as though they had entered some sort of paradise, misunderstanding the idea that they didn't have to kill someone to acquire the goods they were after.

For the pair of psychos to stalk their prey as they had been trained to, it was imperative that they looked the part. Luckily a scorcher crew had sacked a pair of scavengers the week earlier. In the wicked foreplay prior to the demise of the two men, they were forced to strip their clothes off and perform vile acts on one another. They were then burned alive, mid-sodomy. Axle kept the radio strapped to his bicep to intercept any incoming hail of activity from the two. It was as though they were children, the leader forced to hold their hands through every obvious question they had.

The only information that Axle had to look over so far was a multitude of names and a map he had pulled off skeletal remains. Connecting the dots would be synonymous to quantum physics for the rest of the squad, but he wasn't born in The Yard, and so he still grasped some semblance of problem solving capabilities. He clung to the head on his shoulders numerous times to pull Tabby's out of whatever maelstrom they had found themselves enveloped in, especially when the rest of the squad simply wished for their enemies to taste their own melting flesh.

Their target, a man known to them only as Shuke, was being contained within the Inner City. What importance he held to the Followers of Asher still eluded the leader of the clan. Many sleepless nights had him wondering if he would commit a raid against the lesser tribes to gain more information, though he was not sure if he had the resources to get there and back – in addition to possibly launching a campaign into The Dark City. He scratched his beard and looked to his disinterested men before having enough of Drexel:

"Put the fucking toys down!" He roared; the cigar that hung from his mouth nearly ejected onto the table. It was clear that something else was bothering the titan. He sighed and wiped the fatigue from his eyes. Drexel immediately dropped the figurines onto the floor, leaning down to pick them up and smashing his head against the table on his ascension.