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Date Posted: 14:49:53 06/29/99 Tue
Author: Bishop, Mofofunk, Pike, Wing & Paladin
Subject: Blood Under The Sun, Chapter Two Continued
In reply to: Bishop, Mofofunk, Pike, Wing & Paladin 's message, "Blood Under The Sun, Chapter Two: Ghosts Around the Fire" on 14:47:50 06/29/99 Tue

**********

The fire flickered, casting an eery red light on the faces of the assembled group. Long, black Indian hair brushed the ground behind the backs of some of the members, while others shifted in their greasy, ratty clothes. Life on either side of the line was tough these days in the Southwest. Pike cleared his throat.

'So. We all know why Bishop wants this guy dead. Maybe he wants to take out some whole fucking organization. I don't know about all that, and I don't care. He killed Samms, and for that I'm going to see that fucker burn. I'll tell you why…

* * * *

The Pally rolled and rocked underneath Pike, the stiffened suspension barely smoothing out the cracks in the road at all. In his line of 'work,' handling was more important than anything else. The entire inside of the car had been stripped out, extra metal added in, and a pair of used seats from the Trans-Am series had been bolted in. Right behind him lay the huge ammo box for his WP, prudently protected by 6 inches of armor stripped off of an old Sherman tank. The CB crackled to life and Pike started in his seat, caught unawares..

* I wasn't expecting anyone to be around here…* He had been driving through New mexico on his way to the oilfields of Texas, as he'd been contracted as an escort for a convoy. 'Hello!? Hello!?' there was the sound of some sort of firefight going on in the background of the radio transmission. 'Is anyone on this frequency!?!? Hello!?'

Without thinking, Pike reached down, picked up the mouthpiece and thumbed the button on the side. 'Unkown broadcaster, this is Pike, what's going on where you are?'

He could hear the relief in the woman's voice. 'Thank god! Help us, our town is being attacked by creepers, we're at the intersection of County road 62 and State route 43!' This time, he could also here a thin scream in the background… He passed a route indicator on the side of the road. It was County 62.

'I'm on 62 right now, I'll be there as soon as I can, miss! Don't worry!' He slammed the gas pedal down and the big Ford 342 pulled the Palomino towards the horizon. Somewhere, in front of him, lay destiny.

* * *

He could hear the town being destroyed about five minutes before he could see it. The thin crack and snapping of small arms fire, the dull thump of mortars landing, and from his memory that thin scream… The transmissions of the woman from inside the town had ceased about five minutes ago.The foot well of the Pally was throwing off waves of heat, and sweat ran down his legs to drip on the floor. With a sweat-slicked thump, he flipped the arming switch for his weapons. He'd have to try and limit himself to the napalm hose - his WP mortar would probably just add to the damage in the town. He flipped the CB to all frequency as soon as he could see the flames in the town.

'Alright, any creepers in the area, you have two options. First, you can stop right now, come out of that town, get out of your cars, and either shoot yourself in the head or let me do it for you.' The buildings, and the flames that fed hungrily upon them, grew in size steadily. 'Second, you can fight. Either way you'll die, its just a question of how fast.' His answer came through fast enough. Gales of laughter came through the CB, the sound of burning buildings served as a ghastly overtone.

'Right. Have it your way.' This time, he got a little bit more of a response. 'What's your name, boy-o? Or should we just …. Hehehe! Just call you .. hehe! The White Knight?' His answer was terse, giving away nothing. 'Pike.' Just then, the first target, a Dover lightning, came roaring out of the town. It was painted a nasty brown, with some sort of cannon on the roof right next to a crudely built mortar tube.

Pike aimed the nose of the Pally off to the left as they approached, and as the Lightning attempted to correct for a near-intercept, Pike led him farther and farther astray. About a hundred yards out, Pike swung the wheel rapidly back to the right. Oversized light-truck tires bit into the dirt and he swung the other way. The Lightning's mortar rounds we're quite a ways to the left. He noted the absence of a flare of light in the explosions, realizing with pleasure that other party was using HE instead of WP rounds. Probably 45 mm, as compared to his 60 mm tube. He slammed the car into reverse and the nose swung around as the two passed each other. Since the other had come out of the town to meet him, he was free to use his WP. He pounded the Lightning with arc fire, braking, then switching to forward to keep the spinning car in his firing range. After his ammo counter had gone from 63 to 58, he let off. Smoke and fire covered the now-wrecked lightning, but he could see the head of the dazed driver, a shadow from inside the smoke, lolling from side to side. * He won't get far. * Pike headed into the town.

He listened to the CB as the another voice asked: 'Jimmy!? Jimmy, where are you!? Godammit, who just got here!?' Stalking down Main street, cinders and roaring flames on all sides, Pike caught a glimpse of his prey. A Stag pickup, its bed open, was driving down a side street that paralleled Main. He gunned the engine as he turned the wheel and the rear end slipped out behind him momentarily, pointing his noise straight down the alley way to the sidestreet. As he barreled into the alley behind the pickup, tires howling on the pavement, he shot forward and triggered his napalm hose, the barrel slung just under the front bumper.

'Alright you fucking fucker! Burn! Burnnnnn…!' Pike was screaming into his CB as he emptied his hose's fuel tank into the rear end of the stag. The tires melted within seconds, the tailpipe melted shut, and glass shattered as metal melted and ran in rivulets down to the ground to cool. As soon as he was sure the Stag was no longer able to move, he slammed on the brakes and put the Pally in Park. It had been easy to take these two, a joke. He didn't know why the hell they decided that guns made them gods fallen to earth, but it wasn't a notion they'd hold for long. He ran to the drivers side door of the Stag and yanked it op, long black duster flapping around. The terrified driver spilled out of his car, blubbering incoherently, his pants already soiled. Without thinking about it, Pike put a round in the kid's - and it was a kid, nineteen at the most - kneecap to keep him occupied. He dragged him back to the Pally and strapped him into the passenger side. It was time to fetch his buddy.

* * *

Ten minutes later he had the two tied up, in the middle of the town. The one he'd shot was only whimpering quietly, his wound had been sown shut. While he was awake.

'Alright you worthless pieces of shit. Look around you. What the hell did you do this for? Why!?' He stared intently at the two kids. One simply cried, tears streaming down his face and onto his torn, blood spattered shirt. Pike pulled a long, serrated knife out of a sheath in his boot and advanced on the second. In a low, dangerous voice, he asked: 'Why..?'

The kid simply stared at him, uncomprehending. He stuttered something about, 'we didn't mean it…' Unexpectedly, Pike smiled. He kneeled in front of the kid, and lowered his knife to the ropes tying the kid's hands together. As they neared the bonds, the kid's eyes widened in hope. Pike stopped just above the ropes, just for a second, just to bring up the hope to it's peak. Then he kept going down … down to the crotch. He slit open the kid's jeans, reached, pulled out the penis, and chopped it off at the base. To quiet the screaming, he shoved the dripping member into his captives mouth.

'I gave you the chance, you little fuck. I said I'd kill you fast if you just let me…' Over the next two hours, hell reached up it's arms and grabbed those kids, and _squeezed_.

* * *

Later, as Pike was walking through the town, he heard a faint sound. It sounded like sobbing… * It can't be those kids, I tossed them on the fire… * He wandered in the general direction of the sound. As he walked, he stared here and there, noting the blackened, burnt limbs mixed into the collapsed, smoldering and fitfully burning buildings. It seemed that another fire flickered behind his face. Every once in a while he poked at a log or a cinder with a long piece of pipe he was holding. Then he rounded another corner, stepping over a piled of broken glass and a dismembered head, and saw the source of the noise.

Not thirty feet away, a young child stood with his back to Pike, sobbing, over a bloody corpse. After getting over his first second of shock, Pike ran towards the kid. Without thinking, Pike scooped the child up into his arms, holding him away from the horror in front of him. It was probably his mother. In one hand she clutched a sawed-off shotgun, in the other were the shattered remnants of the mouthpiece of a CB radio. Pike squeezed his eyes shut against the tears, but they came anyways. The child, grateful for anyone to hold on to, clutched him tightly and filled his shirt with tears. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry…' he repeated over and over again to the child as he walked to the Palomino. Dust and ashes swirled in the air, flapping his duster in the wind, and the only thing he could think of was this: * I could only save one… *

* * * *

There was total silence in the room. No one even cleared their throats, it was as if even the crackling and popping of the fire had quieted in respect for the dead. Pike's eyes were wet.

'So, that's what happened.' He coughed, the loudness of it startling everyone from their horrified trance. 'After that, I became Pete's surrogate father. I did my best… But… But in the end… I couldn't even save one. Pete's mom needn't even have ever pickd up that damn radio… It would've been the same in the end.' He paused, the picked back up again, almost reluctantly. 'After Pete left, I let it all go. Lost the place where I'd been living with him, lost all my contacts, fell into alcoholism. I had to wait on a road on the way here for some creeper to ambush a convoy, then, that night sneak into his camp and put a .45 round in his head while he was sleeping to get some ammo and gas. Sometimes, when everything is quiet, and night is blacker than it ever should be… I wonder if I'm any better than Thane.'

* * *
It was Bishop who finally responded to Pikes question.
'Yeah. Yeah, you're better then Thane. So you shot some guy in the back of the head to get his gas, and you feel bad about it? How do you think the family of the last guy he'd wasted feels? How about his next target, who made safely home to their family? How do they feel? Pretty good, I would imagine. One less creeper in the world? Don't expect me to shed any tears.' With a half smile he tossed a small flask in Pikes direction. 'Here, this might make you feel better.' Pike turned to him and snarled his response, a look of rage on his face.

'Don't you get it, you stupid son-of-a-bitch, I've done all kinds of fucked up shit for the last few years, and the one decent thing I ever did....it just delayed the inevitable! I saved that kid just so he could die because some top-secret government asshole signed a little piece of paper in his office between breakfast with The King Of Sudan and Lunch with The President! I didn't do a thing for ANYONE, just made myself more miserable and sentenced somebody else to die. Sometimes, you know, I just wish I'd never left home, I'd gone into the family business like everyone wanted....' Pike finally started to cry, big tears that ran down his face and choked his voice up. It was the sound of many years of anger and sadness and rage flooding out of a man who had played it close to the chest his entire life. He sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed, and Bishop felt tears start to well up in his eyes as well, knowing some of what Pike felt and remembering past tragedies and dissapointments and anger. He decided to tell Pike the one thing he had kept from him about the crash. His voice filled the room, and it was evident in his voice that he was struggling to keep his composure.

'There is a saying, among the members of the Jewish religion, it goes something like 'he who saves one life saves the world entire.' It might not seem like much, but it's true, at least in my case. See, I wouldn't have survived the crash, I'd be as dead as Pete and the rest, but when the rotors hit, and the cockpit exploded in a shower of blood, and I knew we were done for, Corporal Pete Samms, with the floor of the chopper already slipping out from under him, and two or three guys either disemboweled or with broken necks already, he pushed me, pushed me out of the chopper, probaly figuring that the sand 25 feet below would be a softer place to land then the inside of a Huey, and he was right, Pike. He saved my life. Which means YOU saved my life. He decided that his last action on earth would be to do his best to ensure that someone else didn't die with him. He larened that from you, Pike. Like it or not, he learned it from you. You did the best job you could, and it was the best job. And you know what? I'm not much of a religious man, but I'd bet that kids sitting up there in heaven right now, looking down at you and hoping that you will see this thing through, see justice done. He loved you, Pike. I heard it in his voice when he talked about you. You've been through hell, and you've lost one person who was close to you, but you've got me, and I'm pretty sure Mofo here has your back. We're gonna see this thing through, man, alright? So you just hang tough. Okay?' Pike nodded, and Bishop walked over and embraced him, the kind of hug that people who've walked through hell and recognize fellow travelers on the road give each other. Within moments, the rest of the room was surrounding the pair, and the outside world was temporarily forgotten as words of comfort and solace surrounded the pair.

After a moment, Bishop turned to Mofo, who was standing next to him. 'Okay, Mofo, its your turn, and your story had better be a happy one or I'm gonna put a bullet in my skull before I go to bed.' There was a pause, and then laughter filled the room, the kind of laughter that can only come after an emotional purging of incredible proportions. After a moment, Mofo nodded, eiping away the tears of laughter that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

'Okay. I was born a poor black child in the hills of Saskatchewan....' Everyone in the room gave him a look. 'okay, okay. Seriously, it started a long time ago....'

**********
“Ok, well, after Pike’s cute little story, I don’t know if mine is going to traumatize the rest
of you as much...” Mofo winked at Pike.

“Real funny Mofo, just tell everyone your loony-ass tall tale.”

Mofo snickered. “Or what Pike, you’ll cut of my manhood and shove it down my throat?”

Pike glared at Mofo, “I just might!”

Mofo started, “Ohhhhh-k, anyways, where was I? Oh yes, my background, well.... it all
started on a sunny day in the lovely state... wait, state? Yeahhh, state of Canada...”

The others looked at one another and laughed to themselves.

“Wha-what? Oh, I guess I could skip ahead a bit...” Mofo sighed. “Well, I came upon
the creeper scene like any other. But my real start was in self employment. Way back in
the day, before the cops were crooked, and the women were willing, I was a civilian like
any other. I started up my own business, well, actually I started it with my good friend
Apu, but somehow HE got all the credit. It was called the Quick ‘E Freeze, the place
where you could buy a nice cold beverage made from crushed ice and soda. Ooohwee
they were good, but like all good things, they must come to an end. Our first shop was
based in Biggsville, Texas. Apu had gone off to Arizona to start up a few more stores,
but he left me in charge of the one in good ‘ol Biggsville. Little did I know that the
straight and narrow coppers were having problems with the local vigilantes. I hated both,
the pigs were always giving me shit for selling fireworks to kids... hey, its not MY fault
little Bobby Duncan blew his arm off at the elbow! ....and his foot, and burned his face to a
crisp...”

Everyone gave the storyteller a disgusted puzzled look. But Mofo didn’t even take notice
and continued on with his story.

“... Uh, I mean, and the vigilantes, they always came around, hassling me, looking for a
place to hide when the sheriff rolled by. When I finally got enough money to buy myself a
car and leave Biggsville, some creepers came into town and blew the shit out of the Quick
‘E Freeze! Yeah, that’s right...” Mofo nodded, “... squishees and all!... Well, I was pissed,
I just couldn’t take it anymore, so after I had bought my new avocado Courchelle, I made
a deal with this vigilante named Joe- he taught me how to fly a chopper back then -to set
me up with a minedropper for my car. So as soon as I had it put into my new ride, I
started laying mines all over the main roads, just going AWOL. I didn’t care, I had had
enough. But low and behold, the damn pigs wanted to take me down. So as I’m driving
through the oil fields 4 coppers come outta nowhere and try to blow me up! Meanwhile
I’m laying mines left and right, but these oinkers are good, and they avoid them. I’m
driving around, as fast as I could, gettin’ my brand-spankin’ new Courchelle all shooted
up, nowhere to hide. Finally my motor stalls out, and the cops pin me in next to a
building, I try and try to get the car to get going again, and just as the engine turns over,
explosions go off all around me. I see three missiles fly right through the roof of this cop
car next to me and it goes right up in flames, metal shrapnel flying all around. And the cop
van behind me gets blown in a million pieces by what looks like mortar fire. Its getting
really hot in the car by then, and I’m lacadazical, wondering what the hell is going on as
things start to fade to darkness. Just before I go out, I hear these helicopter blades
whirling, getting closer.... But all I’m thinking is, man, this is the end. I hear somebody
yell something, but its just a faint whisper in my head. I just slump in my seat, and
everything goes black...”

Mofo looks up, everyone staring wide-eyed at him, in silence.

“Hey, do you think I can get some water? I’m parched...” Mofo casually asked.

Pike broke his stare, “What?!? What are you doing? Go on with the story already!”

“I will, I will I just wanted some cool liquid refreshment, thats all... geez.” Mofo smiled.

Inez spoke up, “I’ll get you some water...”

“Thank you dearie.” Mofo starts again, “Anyways, I wake up in this helicopter, and I’m
feeling pretty groggy, but I look up and am able to make out a fuzzy Joe looking back at
me...”

***(flashback)***

“Heyyyy sunshine...” Joe says in his redneck accent, “About time you came to, were
almost there...”

“Almost where?” Mofo asks.

“There...” Joe nods his head in the direction of a massive fort, surrounded by the most
beautiful automobiles Mofo had ever seen.

“W-Where are we?” Mofo stutters, spellbound by the fort and vehicles in the distance.

“Hell... Hell, New Mexico.... Now look Mofo, these guys are gonna help you out for a
bit.... well hopefully...” Joe mutters.

“Who? Who is gonna help me?”

The CB on the helicopter crackles to life “Nobody unless you state your business in my air
zone, chopper.”

“Hell’s Finest The Wingnut, this is 187... asking for clearance to land, over.” Joe replies.

Mofo is shaking slightly, maybe from his head injuries, or maybe from a small fear in the
pit of his stomach. “187? Hell’s Finest? What the fuck is going on Joe?”

“Don’t worry Mofo, these guys are the best. Of course, they ARE creepers, but you wont
find any other ones like ‘em.... anywhere.”

***

“So for the next year and a half, I grow up with the guys over in Hell, New Mexico.
Bandit, Wing’, Testy, Tramp Royale, they all show me the ropes, and I become a full
fledged creeper. Now, creepers will be creepers, and there is some shit we did that I ain’t
proud of, and definitely can’t tell you guys about. But we did what we had to do, and
though the trials and tribulations with those guys I got the majority of my fighting skills
that I have today.” Mofo sighed.

“By the late 70s, the south was in a major battle between creepers, vigs, and bribed higher
officials. I was sick of it all, and I decided to leave for a while. So Bandit lent be an old
beat up Bushmaster, and its been with me ever since. I decided to head up north, to
Canada. I lived there for about another year, making money by any means, intercepting oil
tankers, and so forth, but I was depressed, I just couldn’t figure out what it was. Then,
one day, while I was try to hijack a shipment of cargo on its way to Bertoldo Imports I
got headed off by this vigilante that went by the name of Radiator Mother. We went at it,
I’d dodge, he’d move, parré, perré, thrust, thrust... it was great! By they time I had
smashed his beast of a car into a ditch, I had realized what I had been missing... the thrill
of the fight!”

Mofo took a drink of the water Inez had brought him.

“So, I decided to head back south. I made it back to Hell, New Mexico a few days later,
at sunset, and I drove up to the fort. It was really run-down, it seemed so ghostlike. I
went inside the gates to see that it hadn’t been lived in for about a year. It seemed so
strange to see the place which was once so lively, so desolate. I headed towards Texas,
throughout the blazing summer I took notice of how much had changed in the short time I
had been gone. Punk-ass pretty boys drove around the small towns with there brand-new
armed rides, pushing civilians around for money, making themselves the law. All the
coppers seemed to be in on some payroll, just staying out of way of these young creeper
gangs, who were tearing shit up all over the place. Near the end of the summer I had been
finally able to track down Wingnut. He was staying in some hangers just outside Midland.
I got all the news on how Bandit had just gone off on his own one day, and hadn’t come
back yet, and that Trampy was out in Nevada cleaning up the streets, Testy had settled
down, it was strange, almost like a movie. But it was still good to see Wing’, and I asked
him if I could help him with anything. He asked me if I knew of a Bishop Singer, and I
said I had heard the name once or twice. So, he told me what was going on, and said to
keep an eye on Bishop for a while. I think Wing’ knew that some serious shit was going
down, and that he wanted to get involved, but its like, like he had something to take care
of first. Anyways, I followed Bishop who had met up with Pike, until they got in over
their heads...” Mofo winked at Bishop, “So when they caught up with me and asked me to
join up with them. I agreed, and that brings me here.”

Pike had a puzzled look on his face, “Whoa whoa whoa, wait one minute, your not
soundin’ like your usual loony self Mofo.”

Bishop took notice, “Hmmmm, your not really crazy are you, MofoFunk?”

Mofo grinned from ear to ear, “....Uh, yeeeeaaaahhh, CRAZY LIKE A FOX!”

He then tilted his head upwards and started humming a tune in his head.

“You hear that?” Mofo said.

The group sitting around him just raised their eyebrows...

Pike and Bishop looked at each other, both thinking the same thing, there was the Mofo
THEY knew.

“Man...” Mofo thought to himself, “That was close, I’m not gonna blow my cover just
yet...”

***

It was well into the night now, the girls had left to go off to their ramshackle houses to
sleep. Johnny gave Mary a kiss goodnight.

“I’ll come to bed in a little while honey...” Johnny said to Mary reassuringly.

The four sat around the table long into the night, trying to decide where they would go to
next, and what to do. The warm glow of the fire was gone, the embers brunt down to a
dim red light. Slowly, each four heads became heavy, and they were lulled off into a
sound sleep.

******



The Cot setup in the back of Ralph's Gas 4 Cash provided little comfort for the half frozen Vigilante, Paladin had just spent the last 6 hours in the cold desert Night, not to mention that his clothes were still soaked for the downpoor that had just died off. Sleep seemed impossible considering the current conditions, how had he come to this, Paladin thought as he tossed and turned, he had once led a normal life....

Growing up in the small town of Walla Walla, Washington, Joe had been given a solid foundation for a 'Normal' life. He had grown up in the normal manner, that was until his 18th birthday..when uncle sam sent him on an all expence paid trip to a little hellhole in S.E.A called Vietnam. He quickly accelled as a Helicopter piolt, the constant sorties and life in the Jungle had taken its toll on him by the time the war was over. When he got back stateside he scored a hell of a deal on a solid shipment of Surplus army choppers. Finding The spot to open his business became a challenge due to the escalating events in the Southwest. Finally he found a small strip of runway in a little place outside of Biggsville, Texas nicknamed the 76th Precinct. Joe soon became adictted to a local product known as the 'Slurpee' sold down at MofoFunks Quick-ee Freeze, soon he became good friends with a Civilian known in the area as Mofofunk the owner of the Quick-ee Freeze, a little excintric...but not crazy. Joe began to show him the ropes of handling the Huey Gunship..the local canyons that concealed the oil fields proved the perfect place to train the novice aviators.

Business Flourish, with orders coming in daily he was raking in the Cash, which he kept stored where no one could find it. One day he was taking a short run through the canyons he came apon his friend Mofofunk being ambushed by the Cops. With his 'Personal' Wepons suite he let the pigs have it. After the battle he took the unconsious Mofofunk away from the Hell that Biggsville had turned to, and took him straight to Hell.....Hell New Mexico, was home to a band of 'decent' creepers know as Hell's Finest. Returning to His airport Joe found the Police waiting for him. The few good cops that were still aroud had smuggled him out of the area to a small BorderTown between Texas and Mexico Smack in the middle of Nomans land. Under the code name 187 he served with honor until the Bastards from Biggsville caught up to him and damn near took his life...

This looked like the oportune time to take a leave from the violence. returning to his hometown for a few months he found its condition the same as the southwest, Corrupted. The urge to protect drove him back to the southwest where he bought a used '70 ARR Rhana painted a funky shade of Green with custom wheels (nitro). Known as Hustler he fell into a bad crowd known as The Clowns of Darkness, the whole 2 days he was in the company of these guys he had done some evil things..Dropping from the scene again he returned as Paladin trying to redeem himself. a short stay with The GUNfighters under the name of Wolf, where he made an ass of himself and retreated to The area surrounding the Mescalero Indian Reservation.........

With a deep sigh Paladin rolled over and drifted off to sleep, the sun just peeking over the horizon.....

cont'd

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