Issue #41 by John Cheese
January 2018
January 2018
"Brigands"
World Between Worlds, 2013
The two skiffs cut through the dark space around the massive bubble of mystical energy hanging in the nowhere it was anchored in. Reaching the bubble, the lead skiff’s prow, carved into the likeness of a rampant Cockatrice, cut through the mystical protection like a knife through butter allowing the boat and the one following it onto the platform carved from crystal where they dropped anchor and slowly levitated to the ground. Emerging from the hold, a figure dressed in red trousers and a black sweater dropped down, the ethereal light of the platform glinting off the yellow sunglasses he wore, his hand hovering over the holstered handgun he was armed with.
“So this is M.A.C.E’s little storeroom,” the man stated as a light bridge lanced out from the main facility to the platform and an armoured battalion of troops dressed in white armour accented with a black chain motif down the arms rushed towards him, assault rifles at the ready.
“This is a restricted facility; trespassers will be prosecuted with the full extent of the law,” the commander of the troops stated. “Hand’s up and get down on your knees.”
“Let’s not be too hasty. I have business with your director,” the intruder stated in a calm even tone as he got down on his knees.
“Cuff him!” the commander ordered as the figurehead of the second skiff, a winged demon, shifted and then dropped to the floor, a retrofitted grenade launcher in its clawed hands.
With a hiss it opened fire, electricity arching up to the chamber and then out the barrel, the weapon arching in a wide sweep as its user made sure to hit the leading wave of guards, their bodies turning to stone. Those guards who had survived the initial onslaught, mostly by sheltering behind their stone compatriots returned fire, their rounds hitting the bow of the skiffs, just as reinforcements on the boat fired down on them, the mixture of rifles rounds and shards of dark crystal ripping through their ranks with ease.
“Lower the bridge!” one of the guards yelled, seconds before a rifle round slashed through his throat.
Sprinting across the bridge the last of the defenders was cut down as a throwing knife sailed through the air and jammed into his neck, his body toppling off the bridge into the dark void surrounding the facility. Getting to his feet and gesturing for his team to deploy, the lead intruder smiled as he kicked one of the bodies lying across the bridge out the way. While he wasn’t an advocate of murder, a good fire fight, even one where he was very much just the instigator, always good the blood pumping. Behind him the sound of boots hitting the ground sounded, and the ‘intruder’ surveyed the team he’d hired via the recruiting agent known as the Headhunter and smiled, they would do.
Besides the Headhunter herself, a skilled knife thrower and evil mutant, he also had a pair of demonic guardians known as the Gargoyle Brothers at his disposal, the Orcish sapper Manu Morrison as well as the elusive Baron Gothenvald and three of his troopers, their decaying flesh covered in the uniforms of the Imperial German Army.
“Baron, have your men start unloading our equipment and establish a perimeter around our ships.” the intruder ordered. “The rest of you come with me.” He stated as the Baron yelled a few brief commands to his men before falling in with the others and following their leader across the bridge to the door of the facility, the massive adamantine doors locked and sealed with a number of mystical warding spells.
“How we getting in?” one of the Gargoyle Brothers asked, his hand edging towards the trigger of his petrifying ray.
“Manu, this is your department I believe.” the ‘intruder’ stated as the Orc dressed in military fatigues walked up to the door and ran his hands across it, his yellow eyes narrowed as if searching for a weakness in the divine metal. Smiling a terrible hook toothed smile, Manu holstered his ‘stormshard revolver’ and removed a portable ram tipped with a red shard of crystal from his back.
“Stand back and watch the walls,” Manu hissed in a vaguely Antipodean accent before slamming the ram into the door, the metal sparking as the spells repelled the attack.
Slamming the ram in again, Manu grunting from the effort, the spells dissipated and a scratch on the surface of the adamantine glinted for a few seconds until the ram hit again, this time leaving a fist sized dent in it. “Should be down in a few more swings as long as the shard from the ‘Gem of Cyttorak’ holds,” Manu informed them.
“Then everyone get ready,” The ‘intruder’ ordered as Gothenvald handed him a grenade as the door rattled and shards of masonry from the wall surrounding it began to flake off into the void. With two more swings, there was a massive hole in the door, and as Manu stepped off to one side, the ‘intruder’ threw the grenade into the room, the projectile exploding with a buzzing sound, followed by screaming from the guards. After a few seconds, the ‘intruder’ led his team into the next room, an atrium carved out of crystal, a golden chandelier with still burning candles attached lying in the middle of the room, littered with bodies stripped off their flesh lying across the floor, weapons still clutched in their hands.
“Gillette, take the security hub, I want one of them alive for questioning.” The ‘intruder’ ordered as his men shifted round the bodies. There were no doors out of the room, despite the atrium being attached to a fairly small atrium.
“Yes, Brigand,” the Headhunter answered as she walked over to a sealed antechamber and darted inside, screams and wild shots radiating out of the room, before a body in armour was drug out of the chamber, a knife jammed into each of his shoulders.
“Now you work for the Magical Artefact Containment and Evaluation branch of SHIELD,” the Brigand stated as he propped the guard against the chandelier, the flames licking at his face as the raiding party looked down at him with cruel intent in their eyes. “Where is the main chamber?”
“I’m not telling you a thing!” the captured guard snapped.
“I believe you,” the Brigand sighed as he stepped back and let the Headhunter crunch down next to her captured prey. “Her on the other hand…”
“Where is the main chamber?” the Headhunter asked as she removed her glasses, her eyes glowing red.
“Behind the corridor concealed by the mystical façade on the wall,” the guard replied.
“Very good,” the Brigand stated as the Headhunter stood up and stalked away. Sneering Manu raised his ram and slammed it down into the guard, the impact breaking his bones into fragments and leaving a crack in the floor. Laughing and showing a half smile, the Brigand fired a shot with his handgun at the wall opposite the gate, the entire structure dissolving to reveal an air-lock and steel lined corridor beyond it.
“We have a schedule to keep,” the Brigand stated as he walked through the airlock and towards his goal, the others in pursuit.
Reaching another set of doors, the Brigand gestured for the Gargoyle Brothers to take point, the demons kicking the doors down with enough force that they scattered the guards behind them. Opening fire, the brothers swept through the room, petrifying the leading wave and any rounds fired at them as they moved into the room and took cover behind the stone soldiers they had created. As they did the next wave of guards moved in, some fast dropping from an observation platform above, others coming from antechambers off to the side. Removing two grenades, Gothenvald tossed them over the defences, the explosives detonating into a swarm of black flies that ate through the MACE security. As the bodies dropped and flies expired, still more troops rushed in, backed up by two figures dressed in long cloaks and armed with sickles.
“They have Druids,” the Brigand stated with a smile. “Manu remove this wall.” He ordered, the Orc slamming the wall of petrified guards with his ram, the fragments of stone exploding forwards and taking out the security personnel. Stepping out his handgun drawn, the Brigand ran towards the Druids, the spellcasters firing lightning from their fingers at him only for the spells to seemingly collapse as they reached their target. Opening fire, the Brigand caught the first Druid in the chest, his body imploding in around the body to form a silver sphere that exploded outwards and showering blood everywhere. Sensing danger, the second Druid pulled up a mystical shield around himself, all to no avail as a second shot rang out, followed by a blood soaking implosion.
“We have five minutes until the necromancers arrive,” the Brigand stated. “Let’s be gone by the time they get here.” His mercenary force split up and started looking for the relics and texts they had been paid to acquire. “Baron, have your men move in with the trolley.”
# # # # #
The trolley arrived in three minutes, by which time fourteen items were piled on the floor. Among them was a blood-stained piece of cloth, an ornate gold harp, a scrappy notebook and two severed heads. Picking up a pair of rusted shears, the Brigand narrowed his gaze as his men loaded up the artefacts onto the trolley.
“Get them loaded onto the skiff, you two,” he stated as he gestured to the Gargoyle Brothers. “you two come with me.”
He swept off towards the end of the hall and through an airlock into a massive circular room. “This is the spell that keeps the base aloft in the void,” he announced as the brothers nodded and removed a strip of cloth each and tied them round their faces, before placing their weapons down and removing the entire rear of their weapons. Working swiftly the demons removed an eye each before handing them to the Brigand.
“The eyes of Medusa, just as you requested,” one of the brothers stated as the Brigand studied the eyes before tossing them at the sphere and firing two quick shots. The resulting explosion of the shattered eyes flash-petrified the sphere into a floating stone. Removing their blindfolds, the brothers reassembled their weapons and slotted grenades into the launchers, before opening fire, the stone shattering rapidly to reveal a red string running through the heart of the base.
“Get ready to run,” the Brigand ordered as he opened the shears up and walked to the string before slicing through it with ease. For a second there was no change in situations, but then sirens sounded and the base shuddered as it began to plummet out of orbit downwards into the void. Leading the way the Brigand dashed back through the main hall, and out to the skiffs, where the last artefacts were being loaded. Snapping his fingers, he was lifted aboard by one of the brothers, as the other took his place on the second boat. Disengaging, the skiffs fled the falling base, followed by a trio of Quinn Jet’s their wings painted with mystical symbols as were the missiles they were carrying.
“Treasure Ship, disengage,” the Brigand ordered as the second ship slipped past them. “Baron, get your men ready for battle.”
“Ja, mein Herr,” the Baron replied as he swung the ship so it was broadside on whilst his men pushed a cannon up to the edge of the rail. “Feuer!” he boomed, as his men heeded his orders, the cannonball slashing towards the lead Quinn Jet and phasing through the cockpit before exploding open, ghostly hands draining the life out of the crew.
Strafing out of the line of fire, the second Quinn Jet opened fire, its missiles slashing towards the skiff, before impacting on the hull with flashes of vivid blue fire. Reloading the cannon, the Baron’s men swung the cannon round and opened fire, only for their target to shift vertically away from them, the cannon ball exploding under the wing. Seconds later the remaining missiles detonated and the jet plummeted like a cyan sheathed shooting star.
“One remains, shoot them down,” the Brigand ordered as the canon was swung round only for a missile to streak in and destroy the gun. Looking up at the advancing Quinn Jet, the Brigand opened fire himself, his rounds either falling short or bouncing off the jets armour save for the last shot that jammed under the cockpit.
“Surrender, you are outgunned!” a voice commanded over the jet’s speaker.
“And you were just shot with an anti-magic round from Adolf Hitler’s handgun,” the Brigand replied, his words going unheard as the spells protecting the jet collapsed, the forces of the void ripping the jet apart and causing the crew to contort violently as they were converted to the shadow stuff that made up the dimension.
“Bring us back to the castle,” the Brigand ordered, as the skiff jetted away from the destruction of the jet and towards a light in the distance, one that grew larger and larger.
# # # # #
“A successful haul,” Gillette stated, as the thirteen artefacts were placed on the floor of Gothenvald castle. “The client will be happy.”
“Yes, he will,” the Brigand replied as a number of chests where wheeled in by Gothenvald’s men, whilst yet more loaded the artefacts into their individual crates. “Your payment as promised.”
He added as a suitcase was tossed down to him. Opening the lid, he reached in and pulled out a sack of silver coins for Manu, a fistful of diamonds for the Brothers and an old tome for the Baron, unlike the others the Headhunter had insisted on being paid wirelessly, before closing the lid.
“Who is the client?” Manu asked.
“Need to know, and you don’t,” the Brigand replied as he watched a figurehead from a longboat, its head shaped like a snarling winged serpent with a skull in its mouth, the wood covered in strange grey scales, was lowered into a crate. “All I can say is that he pays well and has good taste in powerful magical artifacts.”
The two skiffs cut through the dark space around the massive bubble of mystical energy hanging in the nowhere it was anchored in. Reaching the bubble, the lead skiff’s prow, carved into the likeness of a rampant Cockatrice, cut through the mystical protection like a knife through butter allowing the boat and the one following it onto the platform carved from crystal where they dropped anchor and slowly levitated to the ground. Emerging from the hold, a figure dressed in red trousers and a black sweater dropped down, the ethereal light of the platform glinting off the yellow sunglasses he wore, his hand hovering over the holstered handgun he was armed with.
“So this is M.A.C.E’s little storeroom,” the man stated as a light bridge lanced out from the main facility to the platform and an armoured battalion of troops dressed in white armour accented with a black chain motif down the arms rushed towards him, assault rifles at the ready.
“This is a restricted facility; trespassers will be prosecuted with the full extent of the law,” the commander of the troops stated. “Hand’s up and get down on your knees.”
“Let’s not be too hasty. I have business with your director,” the intruder stated in a calm even tone as he got down on his knees.
“Cuff him!” the commander ordered as the figurehead of the second skiff, a winged demon, shifted and then dropped to the floor, a retrofitted grenade launcher in its clawed hands.
With a hiss it opened fire, electricity arching up to the chamber and then out the barrel, the weapon arching in a wide sweep as its user made sure to hit the leading wave of guards, their bodies turning to stone. Those guards who had survived the initial onslaught, mostly by sheltering behind their stone compatriots returned fire, their rounds hitting the bow of the skiffs, just as reinforcements on the boat fired down on them, the mixture of rifles rounds and shards of dark crystal ripping through their ranks with ease.
“Lower the bridge!” one of the guards yelled, seconds before a rifle round slashed through his throat.
Sprinting across the bridge the last of the defenders was cut down as a throwing knife sailed through the air and jammed into his neck, his body toppling off the bridge into the dark void surrounding the facility. Getting to his feet and gesturing for his team to deploy, the lead intruder smiled as he kicked one of the bodies lying across the bridge out the way. While he wasn’t an advocate of murder, a good fire fight, even one where he was very much just the instigator, always good the blood pumping. Behind him the sound of boots hitting the ground sounded, and the ‘intruder’ surveyed the team he’d hired via the recruiting agent known as the Headhunter and smiled, they would do.
Besides the Headhunter herself, a skilled knife thrower and evil mutant, he also had a pair of demonic guardians known as the Gargoyle Brothers at his disposal, the Orcish sapper Manu Morrison as well as the elusive Baron Gothenvald and three of his troopers, their decaying flesh covered in the uniforms of the Imperial German Army.
“Baron, have your men start unloading our equipment and establish a perimeter around our ships.” the intruder ordered. “The rest of you come with me.” He stated as the Baron yelled a few brief commands to his men before falling in with the others and following their leader across the bridge to the door of the facility, the massive adamantine doors locked and sealed with a number of mystical warding spells.
“How we getting in?” one of the Gargoyle Brothers asked, his hand edging towards the trigger of his petrifying ray.
“Manu, this is your department I believe.” the ‘intruder’ stated as the Orc dressed in military fatigues walked up to the door and ran his hands across it, his yellow eyes narrowed as if searching for a weakness in the divine metal. Smiling a terrible hook toothed smile, Manu holstered his ‘stormshard revolver’ and removed a portable ram tipped with a red shard of crystal from his back.
“Stand back and watch the walls,” Manu hissed in a vaguely Antipodean accent before slamming the ram into the door, the metal sparking as the spells repelled the attack.
Slamming the ram in again, Manu grunting from the effort, the spells dissipated and a scratch on the surface of the adamantine glinted for a few seconds until the ram hit again, this time leaving a fist sized dent in it. “Should be down in a few more swings as long as the shard from the ‘Gem of Cyttorak’ holds,” Manu informed them.
“Then everyone get ready,” The ‘intruder’ ordered as Gothenvald handed him a grenade as the door rattled and shards of masonry from the wall surrounding it began to flake off into the void. With two more swings, there was a massive hole in the door, and as Manu stepped off to one side, the ‘intruder’ threw the grenade into the room, the projectile exploding with a buzzing sound, followed by screaming from the guards. After a few seconds, the ‘intruder’ led his team into the next room, an atrium carved out of crystal, a golden chandelier with still burning candles attached lying in the middle of the room, littered with bodies stripped off their flesh lying across the floor, weapons still clutched in their hands.
“Gillette, take the security hub, I want one of them alive for questioning.” The ‘intruder’ ordered as his men shifted round the bodies. There were no doors out of the room, despite the atrium being attached to a fairly small atrium.
“Yes, Brigand,” the Headhunter answered as she walked over to a sealed antechamber and darted inside, screams and wild shots radiating out of the room, before a body in armour was drug out of the chamber, a knife jammed into each of his shoulders.
“Now you work for the Magical Artefact Containment and Evaluation branch of SHIELD,” the Brigand stated as he propped the guard against the chandelier, the flames licking at his face as the raiding party looked down at him with cruel intent in their eyes. “Where is the main chamber?”
“I’m not telling you a thing!” the captured guard snapped.
“I believe you,” the Brigand sighed as he stepped back and let the Headhunter crunch down next to her captured prey. “Her on the other hand…”
“Where is the main chamber?” the Headhunter asked as she removed her glasses, her eyes glowing red.
“Behind the corridor concealed by the mystical façade on the wall,” the guard replied.
“Very good,” the Brigand stated as the Headhunter stood up and stalked away. Sneering Manu raised his ram and slammed it down into the guard, the impact breaking his bones into fragments and leaving a crack in the floor. Laughing and showing a half smile, the Brigand fired a shot with his handgun at the wall opposite the gate, the entire structure dissolving to reveal an air-lock and steel lined corridor beyond it.
“We have a schedule to keep,” the Brigand stated as he walked through the airlock and towards his goal, the others in pursuit.
Reaching another set of doors, the Brigand gestured for the Gargoyle Brothers to take point, the demons kicking the doors down with enough force that they scattered the guards behind them. Opening fire, the brothers swept through the room, petrifying the leading wave and any rounds fired at them as they moved into the room and took cover behind the stone soldiers they had created. As they did the next wave of guards moved in, some fast dropping from an observation platform above, others coming from antechambers off to the side. Removing two grenades, Gothenvald tossed them over the defences, the explosives detonating into a swarm of black flies that ate through the MACE security. As the bodies dropped and flies expired, still more troops rushed in, backed up by two figures dressed in long cloaks and armed with sickles.
“They have Druids,” the Brigand stated with a smile. “Manu remove this wall.” He ordered, the Orc slamming the wall of petrified guards with his ram, the fragments of stone exploding forwards and taking out the security personnel. Stepping out his handgun drawn, the Brigand ran towards the Druids, the spellcasters firing lightning from their fingers at him only for the spells to seemingly collapse as they reached their target. Opening fire, the Brigand caught the first Druid in the chest, his body imploding in around the body to form a silver sphere that exploded outwards and showering blood everywhere. Sensing danger, the second Druid pulled up a mystical shield around himself, all to no avail as a second shot rang out, followed by a blood soaking implosion.
“We have five minutes until the necromancers arrive,” the Brigand stated. “Let’s be gone by the time they get here.” His mercenary force split up and started looking for the relics and texts they had been paid to acquire. “Baron, have your men move in with the trolley.”
# # # # #
The trolley arrived in three minutes, by which time fourteen items were piled on the floor. Among them was a blood-stained piece of cloth, an ornate gold harp, a scrappy notebook and two severed heads. Picking up a pair of rusted shears, the Brigand narrowed his gaze as his men loaded up the artefacts onto the trolley.
“Get them loaded onto the skiff, you two,” he stated as he gestured to the Gargoyle Brothers. “you two come with me.”
He swept off towards the end of the hall and through an airlock into a massive circular room. “This is the spell that keeps the base aloft in the void,” he announced as the brothers nodded and removed a strip of cloth each and tied them round their faces, before placing their weapons down and removing the entire rear of their weapons. Working swiftly the demons removed an eye each before handing them to the Brigand.
“The eyes of Medusa, just as you requested,” one of the brothers stated as the Brigand studied the eyes before tossing them at the sphere and firing two quick shots. The resulting explosion of the shattered eyes flash-petrified the sphere into a floating stone. Removing their blindfolds, the brothers reassembled their weapons and slotted grenades into the launchers, before opening fire, the stone shattering rapidly to reveal a red string running through the heart of the base.
“Get ready to run,” the Brigand ordered as he opened the shears up and walked to the string before slicing through it with ease. For a second there was no change in situations, but then sirens sounded and the base shuddered as it began to plummet out of orbit downwards into the void. Leading the way the Brigand dashed back through the main hall, and out to the skiffs, where the last artefacts were being loaded. Snapping his fingers, he was lifted aboard by one of the brothers, as the other took his place on the second boat. Disengaging, the skiffs fled the falling base, followed by a trio of Quinn Jet’s their wings painted with mystical symbols as were the missiles they were carrying.
“Treasure Ship, disengage,” the Brigand ordered as the second ship slipped past them. “Baron, get your men ready for battle.”
“Ja, mein Herr,” the Baron replied as he swung the ship so it was broadside on whilst his men pushed a cannon up to the edge of the rail. “Feuer!” he boomed, as his men heeded his orders, the cannonball slashing towards the lead Quinn Jet and phasing through the cockpit before exploding open, ghostly hands draining the life out of the crew.
Strafing out of the line of fire, the second Quinn Jet opened fire, its missiles slashing towards the skiff, before impacting on the hull with flashes of vivid blue fire. Reloading the cannon, the Baron’s men swung the cannon round and opened fire, only for their target to shift vertically away from them, the cannon ball exploding under the wing. Seconds later the remaining missiles detonated and the jet plummeted like a cyan sheathed shooting star.
“One remains, shoot them down,” the Brigand ordered as the canon was swung round only for a missile to streak in and destroy the gun. Looking up at the advancing Quinn Jet, the Brigand opened fire himself, his rounds either falling short or bouncing off the jets armour save for the last shot that jammed under the cockpit.
“Surrender, you are outgunned!” a voice commanded over the jet’s speaker.
“And you were just shot with an anti-magic round from Adolf Hitler’s handgun,” the Brigand replied, his words going unheard as the spells protecting the jet collapsed, the forces of the void ripping the jet apart and causing the crew to contort violently as they were converted to the shadow stuff that made up the dimension.
“Bring us back to the castle,” the Brigand ordered, as the skiff jetted away from the destruction of the jet and towards a light in the distance, one that grew larger and larger.
# # # # #
“A successful haul,” Gillette stated, as the thirteen artefacts were placed on the floor of Gothenvald castle. “The client will be happy.”
“Yes, he will,” the Brigand replied as a number of chests where wheeled in by Gothenvald’s men, whilst yet more loaded the artefacts into their individual crates. “Your payment as promised.”
He added as a suitcase was tossed down to him. Opening the lid, he reached in and pulled out a sack of silver coins for Manu, a fistful of diamonds for the Brothers and an old tome for the Baron, unlike the others the Headhunter had insisted on being paid wirelessly, before closing the lid.
“Who is the client?” Manu asked.
“Need to know, and you don’t,” the Brigand replied as he watched a figurehead from a longboat, its head shaped like a snarling winged serpent with a skull in its mouth, the wood covered in strange grey scales, was lowered into a crate. “All I can say is that he pays well and has good taste in powerful magical artifacts.”