I light the cigar with ease, though my partner Chance looks at me like I am crazy. I am tracking down one of the criminals that robbed the bank in Paragon, he worries the smoke will set them off.
Crazy pretty boy. We only have to get so close, and he will take his pea shooter and put a hole in as many of them as he can. I seen him use it, so I am doubting I will have much in the way of work coming.
I check the area over. This is the part of the Hollows that didnt quite fall into the Guff. Everything is leaning like it wants to fall, and if there is one small earthquake, then bye bye buildings.
Cant say it would be a bad thing. Its filled with nothing but gang members anyway.
I leave the pretty boy set up ontop of the one of the buildings. He can move as quiet as the wind, but hell, he also can see for miles around on his perch.
Me, well, I am the up close and personal kind. I hit the crooked grounds and start putting my nose to the pavement, so to speak. First one I spot is Macky Rowen. He aint a bad snitch, 'cept he always wants one of my cigars. I hate giving him one, but he knows he has the goods, and I will give him one anyway. Cant kill someone like him, no matter what kind of dirt he is. Dirt, sure, but he stays out of the murder and [censored] and such. Mostly petty crimes, things that dont matter much here in the Hollows anymore.
"Hello Grim, what brings you around," he says nervously, his hands deep in his pockets, talking to me like an old friend or something.
I just look to him and debate in my head whether to threaten him or just pass the cigar over.
I just pass the cigar over.
"Bank heist in Paragon, who and where can I find them"
He hesitates, then hands the cigar back to me.
"Sucker deal Grim, I like you and all, but I aint stupid. You know enough to know that these guys are killers."
He was right, they killed the gaurds and one of the bank tellers, without even a second thought. That's why they put Chance on the trail. Judge done put the green light on whatever force necessary, and Chance likes to use whatever force necessary.
"I know you aint stupid boy, and I know you aint brave. I will say this one time, and want you to understand how serious I am. Take the cigar, tell me what I came for," he was already shaking his head to me before I finished, had that run look on his face, though he knew running from me was pointless.
"Grim, my man, they wont just kill me. They will do things to make me want to die."
My claw enters his shoulder in an instant, I dont have the time. He blinks rapidly, not sure at first as to what just happened.
"I aint asking again, and what they will do to you may be worse if they find out, but I will do to you will be here and now, and you aint got a chance in hell of running."
He now moans, the pain really setting in. He starts to grimace as I only slightly turn the claw.
He tells me what I need to know. I put the cigar in his mouth as he sobs some, holding his shoulder. He didnt think I would do it, but now he knows for sure I will.
I aint out to insure these scums get their rights. I am out to insure the criminals get taken off the street.
I make my way back to Chance, slipping down the back of alleys. I aint scared of the scum, but I dont want them to know I been here yet.
Macky wont tell. He will be too scared to. Scared of me, and scared of what these killers will know he told me.
"It was Lucias and his crew," I tell Chance, who knows precisely who I mean. He just nods, and I know Lucias wont be making it to the end of this mission. Or he will be the end, and the end for him. This sniper Chance dont have patience for the criminal world, and he will pop their heads liike squeezed fruit just for the hell of it.
He was just the guy I needed.
Guess he has some kind of vendetta, he dont offer the why and I dont ask.
"Cant you put that damn cigar out?" He asks me, and I just ignore him.
Lucias, everything a man would want in a criminal, if you were sent to find him, and take him in, dead or alive. And you already know he will be dead.
Killer, torturer, does things to women that makes seriel killers look like poster boys for cereal boxes. I dont mind saying this instance I am none to sad to have this sniper with me.
His gang is an offshoot of the bigger gang of Outcasts, but he plays both sides of the fence with the trolls. Word on the street has him as a mutant that tried their serum, but wasnt turned into a troll himself. However, it did increase the suckers streangth. Doesnt matter, if I get close enough to him with these claws, he aint walking away to do anymore bank heists.
Chance is all packed and walking out before I can finish much of a thought. His sleek attire and stealthy steps make him almost a ghost in the shadows, and I know I best kick some pavement if I dont want to lose him.
Damn pretty boys, I tell you, they have a hell of an attitude when it comes to their jobs. They like to make sure they look good while they do it.
I just like to get it done in a timely fashion. Got a brew waiting at home, and probably one of my girlfriends from Tito's Tavern just aching to be my next tall drink.
Its a hope I allow myself.
As we get down to the exit of the building we were in, we run right into a dozen or so of Lucian's boys.
What the hell is the odds of that? Apparently I was wrong about Macky, and he snitched on me. Dont much matter I suppose, my bones have been aching for the work-out.
Luckily for us Lucian is just cocky enough to not run. Maybe this is better anyway, up close and personal.
No time is wasted, they come on us like a wave over the beach. Chance has some good moves, for a pretty boy, and he uses them well enough to back the boys off so he could unsling his shooter.
Me, well, my six claws pop out of my iron hands, and they know its time to work.
No one-on-one or waiting for someone brave to come near me. Hell no, I dont work that way. Right into the thick of them I go, and my claws get busy. I shred the first the ones face, and he falls in screams. God I enjoy hearing them scream, I have to wonder what that says of me.
The next one nearest me loses a knee, as I kick it so it bends the wrong way, but no knee replacement for him. I gut him and let him drop, knowing from the feel of it all that he wont be getting back up. The other claw swings higher, ripping out a throat and ripping off a shoulder of another in the single swing.
By this time they are thinking better of this situation, and some start to run. The braver ones though rush me all at once.
Its then I do my favorite move, and spin in the air, my razor sharp claws following one another in a broad circle, landing low to the ground, one hand holding my body up in almost a half push-up.
As I stand they all fall, some dead, others dying. Pending on their height I suppose.
I dont have much more work to do, Chance is already capping the others with a silenced rifle. Looks like the camping knife of all guns, and I have to wonder if it has a can opener.
It has a grenade launcher, and I dive out of the way as it blows to peices the rest of the gang members.
I stand shaking my head, the ringing sounding like an incoming yellow line on a foggy day.
Chance just begins undoing his rifle, not paying me a second glance. He doesnt have a single dust particle on his uniform.
Damn pretty boys.
I lean against the wall, the moon poking out now from the clouds. High clouds, the ones that tell you winter is coming, and snow and ice is only a whisper of a degree away. I dont much care, the cold dont really affect me. I am a mutant with the power to heal at high rates, and with that comes a bit of a higher temperature, and high degree of tolerance to any weather.
Except the rain. I hate the rain. It gets me all wet, as rain is suppose to do. I am fine mind you, till you get my feet wet. Once you get my feet wet, well, you then have a pissed off Grim Iron to deal with.
No one likes dealing with a pissed off Grim Iron.
Chance is poking about, says he wants to get an idea of what we are up against down here in the guff. Hell, if he dont know then maybe he is the wrong one to have brought along. We are up against gang members, and thats about that for that.
I cant even light a cigar, as the smoke would be too much of a tell tale sign of us being here. That I agree with, and dont say much of nothing when he springs that on me.
I dont hear him come back, and have to catch myself before I cut him hind to head when he pops out of the shadows in front of me.
"Got a head count, and it aint good. We wont be getting to Lucian very easily," he says. I just nod. I know he is right, and no amount of grandstanding and chest poking out of mine would make it different.
I didnt like him being right on this, I wanted to simply get in and kill the bum. Wont be happening tonight. We will need a plan I guess. I aint the one to come up with this one. Sure, if it was a plan of cutting them down in nose to nose battle I am your man.
Stealth and hiding, well, that was why they sent Chance. I am just the meat between him and the bad guys if things get out of hand. I wonder if they even care of the Grim Iron even makes it back sometimes. They say I am hard to keep in check.
Guess its cause I dont throw led from a mile away and solve the problems like the sniper does. With that thought, I suppose the powers that be should be keeping an eye on the ones like ole Chance. Disgruntled snipers would be bad, since they can kill you with a shot from a rifle, you never hearing the blast, nor seeing the fire. Just plop, your dead, with everyone wondering why your head just exploded like that.
I chuckle at the thought, drawing an eye from ole Chance. I shake my head in an assurance it was not a jest at him. He just nods. I dont think he is too sure of me either. Guess he knows I got my own quick draw.
"We will set up tomorrow night, but we need to lay low till then," he says.
I just nod, and agree. I know of a spot, and motion him to follow. It will be a bit cramped, but oh well. It has a fridge and beer, or so it should.
I can use a beer right about now.
I put down a twelve pack of old brew, the kind that goes stale from sitting in a fridge that dont quite cool enough. I dont mind it so much, beer is beer to me. I wont be the one at any of those brew tasting resorts. You get me there, and I wont know the difference between Bull Light and Silver Train Brisk....a lauger or a ... a .. hell, I dont even know what else you would call a brew.
I drink beer. I like beer. Beer is beer. What the heck is the difference between dark and ... and.. not dark. All goes down the same.
My sniper just lays back on the sofa, guess he felt fighting for the bed wasnt worth it. I look to the bed and see why he felt that way.
Guess I should have cleaned it since I last was here. Good ole memories of Sandy Sandra, the blonde snitch I knew who ran with the Outcasts. She aint around no more though.
What were you thinking? Get your mind out the gutter, we were playing cards and she spilt her chocolate drink all over the sheets. Made for an ugly stain that I am sure Chance has no idea, nor want to know, of what it is. I dont care, its all dry now, and the bed will lay well enough.
As far Sandy Sandra, well, she is deader than hell now. Dont rightly know how or why it happened. I just know I was asked to identify her body, seeings as I knew her so well. Bullet to the head shut her lashed shutters for good. Gonna miss her, may have to reopen that case and track down the dirty bum that did that to her.
I hear steps before even Chance hears them, and I sit up in the bed. Not sure how long I was out for, but safe to say it aint morning yet since its so dark. I dont know if the sniper catches the sound too, or he hears me when I get out of bed, but I hear the couch creak a bit as he gets up, the only sound he makes. I dont hear or see him for a bit after that as I make my way to the door. Its only a few steps away, but seems like a mile when it seems something bad may well be on the other side of it.
Just as I grab the nob to turn it I find out where Chance is, he pats my shoulder gently, getting my attention.
Man we will be lucky if I dont kill him from scaring me before this mission is over.
He motions me to open the door from the side, and sets up as well a bit off to the side as he takes aim on the doorway. Guess he caught me making a rookie mistake, but hell, as I said before, aint much will hurt me so I dont worry on too much. Just is what it is.
I turn the nob but it dont budge. Dammit, I forgot to unlock it. I do that carefully, but it seems the mechanisms within scream out an alarm to anyone listening.
I just swing the door open now, no use in being quiet I think. If its a professional out there, he will know we are trying to welcome him. If it aint, well, he is a dead sonofabitch anyway.
Chance just looks, I can barely see his expression in the dim light. By his looks I can tell he sees nothing. I poke my head around.
Nothing and no one.
I look back to Chance who motions me to get back again. I do, its his type of fighting so I dont step on his toes on it. If it were who can widdle an appendage fastest I would be showing him tricks.
Still nothing. Chance however doesnt move. He watches, patiently. My patience is ebbing away, but I am getting a feeling now that it may be what whoever is on the other side of the door wants. This of course increases my patience.
Time passes...and passes.
I see the hand as it slips the object in, and I half think to jump out after whoever it is. Chance however moves quickly and grabs the grenade, and tosses it back out. He kicks the door closed as he rolls away.
The explosion blows the door back open, and makes a nice hole in the wall I am leaned against. Splinters poke out of my skin, giving me a porcupine look now.
Pisses me off, and I know its time to get to work.
Chance fires bursts of quick rounds at the smoke filled doorway. I hear grunts and know he was right to fire there. I am pissed now though, and my claws almost pop out on their own, with little thought to back them.
I enter the hall, not really caring if Chance agrees with my tactics or not. I get to work, doing what I do best. Slice, dice, hell, they can open cans when I want them to.
I drop a good half dozen of these bums to the floor fairly quickly, even as I hear rounds of fire from behind me. I dont meet their eyes, thats a sucker play. Instead I watch their hands and feet, and from there just know where the vitals are.
I hack and slash. Its my way.
I dont feel the pain so much as the pressure, and the flinging back of my body. I hit the end of the hall hard, head first almost into the wall.
Someone played home run with my noggin, and I didnt even see it coming. Sloppy sloppy.
What this chump didnt know was that it takes more than that to keep ole Grim down, and as my head clears I see he is focused on the pretty boy now. He takes some hits to the chest from a quick burst of the rifle, but he shrugs them off. I can see why, as it looks like some kind of rock armor covers him. In his hand isnt a bat at all, its his hand. Its also made of rock.
He cleared the path...meaning me, and in rushes the gang. Damn, I should not have used this old hideout. Too late now. I have to get to work, earn my pay and my keep. Cant let LaRue take it the hard way.
I scramble back into the frey, much I guess to everyone elses surprise.
I am so unappreciated at times I think.
I wade through once live bodies, live till I cut them with precision. I wade to the one that hit me in the head with that rock fist.
He sees me coming and stops his charge on Chance. Didnt matter, Chance had his own problems now as I see him kick back some of the gang members getting close to him.
Rock boy smiles at me, and I just grin back at him. What he dont know is, he is about to die. I got no patience for his kind, the kind that like to home run my head into a wall.
He swings hard, like the brute he is. I just dodge him easy enough, and weave into a swipe across his stomach.
I only find rock armor, but these claws of mine swipe away a good chunk of it. He grunts disapproval, but I cant give him another swipe. I am jumped on by more Outcasts, and have to deal with them.
Three more, then another three more are ontop of me. I cut, slice, dismember....everything one can do with claws that can cut through almost anything. When I am done I search for "rock boy".
He is gone. Chance is looking out the window to the gulch.
"I fired on him as he went out the window. Where I hit him, he should be dead." Chance said calmly. "Nice armor he had on."
I look out the window too, and see the blood. I didnt just cut armor, I cut into him as well from the blood I see.
We dont talk anymore, just pack up and prepare to move on. Cant stay here now, we are marked. We came here to hunt own Lucian, but now we are being hunted. No help or back up to call in the Gulch. Everyone here has their own worries.
Just have to move on, and try and find Lucian. Wont be easy, but he is out there. He is too cocky to leave the Hollows.
He thinks its his.
We are going to try and prove him wrong.
"Because I got nothing for you, beb, just these six claws to say you aint runnin' nothin' around here anymore"
Yeah, thats what I told the freak, damn if he would listen though. I got these sharp claws that can cut through almost anything man-made, and most things god made, but he pulls a bat.
Stupid freak.
I make a toothpick of it, and a no-ped of him. I cant say I felt a lick of sorrow for him as he was carted off by the back-up that Lt Winslow sent me. I dont really need the back-up, but hell, they are good for mopping and cleaning up.
I look around the big cavern, even as I hear the officers yelling for the surrender of the other gang members. They had dynamite, hardware, guns...lots of guns.
And he used a bat.
Live like pigs and they seem to like it. Hell if I can understand why. I dont need to understand it though, just need to do my job.
I am Grim Iron, in case you dont know me. I have iron for hands, with three claws that poke out the end when I want them to. I didnt lose my family, friends, nor my memory. I wasnt in the army, didnt fight in any real wars. I just am a tough cop on a tough beat basically. Being a mutant dont hurt none, I tell you now. I could have sold these claws to the highest bidder, after the doc fixed them up for me. I could have lived high and mighty I suppose off the back of the people.
Aint my style though.
I was actually a mediocre kid, with mediocre ideas when I was growing up. I didnt want any glory. Just didnt want to do what my dad did. He worked in sales, worked it till the day he died. Always gone, always on the move. Ate bad. Died at the age of fifty four.
My mother was just a drunk, which may be why dad was gone so much. I dont know. Sure, she was a drunk, but me and my sisters didnt really go without, so cant say she drank while we did without.
Just was what it was. As I said, nothing special about the way I grew up to make me who I am.
The special thing is, if you wish to call it that, is this weird gene I somehow inheritated, that when I turned twelve kicked off in me.
Try to hurt me, I dare you to. Wont really happen. Sure you can make the cut, put the hole in me, pound the crud out of me. I will just pop back up, more pissed off than hurt.
So they call me Grim Iron, saying I always have this grim look on my face, as I chew on the end of my cigar. Dont know what that means, a grim look on my face. I aint unhappy or grim. I like my job.
I may tell you my real name sometime, but right now all you need to know is that they call me Grim Iron. Thats my code name with the law.
I am working the Hollows for now, though I am sure the work here wont be much longer. I usually find others to join in when we are patrolling and pushing the trash back passed Cherry Hill. Showing the low life's the door when they set up in town.
Now and again I take a job on my own. They like me enough I suppose to let me pick and choose. Thats how I ended up in this cavern. Put about three of the criminals in the ground, another dozen left to be put in jail, minus some parts and pieces of course.
As I am about to leave, one of the punks spit on me. I know what you are thinking, thinking I probably turned and cut him to shreds. You may be right on some days, days when I am in an actual foul mood.
Not this day, this day I chunk my cigar at him, making he dance around to not get burnt by it. Dumb [censored], has a lump on his head the size of a baseball and is all girly about a cigar.
I just laugh, wipe the loogy he spit off of me, and leave.
Job done.