Revelation: Prequel Novella to the Malfunction Trilogy by Purrazzi J.E

Author:Purrazzi, J.E. [Purrazzi, J.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-21T22:00:00+00:00

Part Three: Flash Bang

Chapter One: Digging Your Own Grave

Handgun. Moonshine… only the highest quality, of course. An oversized pair of goggles followed by reams of dusty cloth. Cowl’s stash was built up over the course of years. Starke had added his fair share, too. The result was a sort of hoarder lasagna: artifacts from the earlier years buried in the depths of the locker under drifts of dust and bits of treasure. It was safe here, in the space between the inner and outer walls. Not enough workers snooped in the lockers.

Cowl pulled the insole of a boot out of the hole and frowned. “I could have sworn I had another pack of slugs in here somewhere,” he said, dropping a dented mining helmet onto the grating.

When he went into the Pit he liked to bring his shotgun. The darkness meant that he couldn’t usually shoot until the enemy was right up on him, so range wasn’t a concern. The spread meant that he didn’t need precision. This time he was up against the nano cellulose blend that comprised the body armor in the guard’s simple uniforms, so he would need something with a bit more punch than buckshot would give.

The mechanical-man hung back, watching with wide, black eyes. For a man of his size, he didn’t seem very confident in his own skin. He hadn’t spoken at all either. Not a single word since they had left the office.

“You ever been outside Bunker?” Cowl asked as he twisted a cloth around his face. From the way he was acting, this guy probably had never been out of his little white cell,

Cowl pulled an extra, late-model assault rifle out of the locker and held it out. The mechanical man accepted it with the practiced ease of a soldier. Electromagnetic railguns were hard to get. High caliber firearms were for Wrecker warfare so EM tech was a rare treat. If he knew for sure that his slugs could take down the guards he would have stayed on the safe side and left the big guy with his little hand gun.

The mechanical man turned the rifle over in his palms, brushing dust from the worn casing and nodded. “I’ve been topside.”

Of course, the Tournaments. Well, stupid questions were bound to be asked when silence had to be filled.

“I really need some sort of name to call you,” Cowl said, stuffing a flashlight into his pocket. “What if I need your attention? What if I have to introduce you to a friend? What if I want to sing that name song… you know… Cowl! Cowlie, Cowlie -bo-bowlie, Bo-nap-na fa-an fo-fa-nee. Fee fi mo-ma-nee, Cowlie!”

The man blinked and his lip crooked ever so slightly. Maybe a laugh?

“Don’t know it? No worries, I don’t think that’s a typical adult pastime anyway. Haven’t sung that since Basics.” Cowl grinned and stuffed his sawn-off between his hip and the holster band.

“My identification is G4S59,” the man said slowly, as if he were picking each syllable out and inspecting it carefully before he let it slide over his tongue.

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