[b]Conningstone[/b]

Terrance Cosht stepped carefully into the bar and was immediately wreathed in thick palls of blue smoke and the vague suggestion of shimmering alcohol vapours in the air. He sneezed at the aromatic assault and dabbed gently at his scaleless nose with a white handkerchief. He stared around the basement speakeasy, avoiding eye contact with the patrons who frequented the grubby little bar, each one as mismatched and scruffy looking as the furniture that was cluttering every inch of free space. He pulled his crisp suit jacket around him primly and stepped into the throng, tail held high as he weaved through the decaying flesh and the bleached, painted bones of the customers who gave the occasional grunted insult as he passed them by. After ducking a tossed beer bottle, he tapped a finely manicured nail on the scratched countertop of the bar and cleared his throat matter-of-factly. The tall, leather clad painted skeleton behind the bar turned to look at him with barely concealed contempt.
''We don't serve lawyers in this establishment.'' He grunted flatly, wiping his metal coated fingers on a greasy cloth, ''Bad fer business, yeah? Now get out a'fore I toss you out.''
He turned his back again and continued polishing the burned-out giant of a motorcycle that sat on a solidly built metal plynth to serve as a centre piece to the multitude of shelved bottles of alcohol behind the bar. Cosht spared the hulking skeleton a glare before pressing his question.
''I'm looking for someone.'' He said haughtily, drawing himself up to his full height, his narrow chest puffed out with the bluster of a million politians and beaurocrats.
The gurgles, burps and low murmer of voices quietened down to a solid silence around him and he suddenly found himself being watched by every keen eye and witchlight in the room as everyone waited for the newcomer to perform his next magnificent fuck-up. He tried to retain his cool demeanor, but the niggling notion that he was in for a good kicking was a strain that he wasn't sure he could cope with for much longer. The landlord - Cosht vaguely remembered someone telling him his name was Ben - rotated on the spot to face him. He immediately felt very short, his 7' 11' being dwarved by the heavy weight 8'6'' of the skeleton before him. Ben tossed his polishing rag onto the countertop and looked down at Cosht, the purple witchlights of the landlord's eyes pinning the smaller reptile to the spot. Cosht considered reaching for his gun during an insane moment of thought, but then the more sensible, life-preserving side of his brain kicked in; shooting a skeleton would do nothing but piss them off and get you your arse kicked with a spitefulness commonly displayed in bad tempered cats.

He'd done it before now and still felt the burning embarassment even months later. Even so, the thought remained there, at the back of his mind until Ben casually slid his thumbs into his leather braces, flicking his leather waistcoat back to reveal the biggest handgun he'd ever seen strapped to the side of his ribcage in a home-made studded leather sling. It made his 9mm revolver look like a child's pop gun. And Ben's looked like a custom made deal too, so there was really no telling whether it fired peas or 120mm tank shells. Or both.
''We also don't like questions like that,'' He rumbled meaningfully, the tone of his voice and his posture suggesting that he was quite willing to dole out a huge amount of pain within the next few minutes. ''Questions like that are gen'rally bad fer business, 'coz when people come 'round here asking those sorts of questions, people end up dying. And that's very bad fer business, that, 'coz my customers 'ave a tendancy to die as a result of said question.'' Ben said, leaning forward, his fists bracing him on the countertop, an air of menace surrounding him. ''So, I'll say again: Fuck off.''


Cosht stamped up the steps and into the street, the evening air warm on his paper thin flesh, making any muscle that was exposed to the elements tingle unpleasantly. He inhaled deeply, taking several breaths to clear out the insulting odours of the bar, thumping his chest solidly to try and get the lung that had collapsed earlier that morning to re-inflate, to no avail. He adjusted the bandage around his neck and started towards the armoured truck that was parked on the curb with two armed guards standing watch, one at the front, one to the rear of the bulky, modified vehicle. It was only when they shifted slightly, their hands sliding surreptitiously to their pistols did he stop, hand on the door handle, to look around.
He felt watched. 
Again.
''I know who you're looking for.'' Piped a reed thin voice as dry as paper from the gathering darkness.
The guards shifted uneasily, wanting to be gone and off the streets before night took hold.
''I highly doubt that, urchin.'' Cosht grunted and climbed in.
''It'll take you months to find 'em, a newbie like you. This place is bigger'n it looks and people round these parts don't appreciate a suit trying to play king. You'll be dead before you can even figure out where they're based.''
Cosht rolled down the bullet resistant window and peered into the shadows. Stood in the feeble lamplight of the speakeasy's stairwell was a creamy, malnourished thorny lizard covered in scabs with bulging, sickly yellow eyes. He wore natty, ready-for-the-bin camo, a combat vest three sizes too big and was wrapped in a multitude of ammo laden bandoliers and gun-stuffed baldrics.
''Go on...'' Cosht prompted with half-hearted interest.
''Payment first, information second. That's how we work in these parts, Mr. Suit.'' The reptile said greasily.
Cosht sighed in exasperation, ''Alex, pay the little wretch so we can get on with things. I swear it was easier contacting those Valdani and Ferroni idiots...'' He added in a quiet mutter.
One of Cosht's guards plucked a magazine from his belt and tossed it at the lizard's feet. He scooped it up whilst keeping an eye on the three men and quickly inspected it before it vanished into one of his hundreds of pockets. He grinned.
''They're not that far from where you want them to be, actually. They gone a long way out this time for some reason. They're at Highforge Keep. Reckon you could make it there by tomorrow afternoon if you're quick about it. And don't get eaten by something on your way there...''
The strange lizard vanished back into the shadows without another word.
''Alex, Dennis, get in. Radio the others and tell them we'll meet them there in about two hours.'' Cosht ordered, rolling his window back up and settling back in the plush leather upholstery of the truck.


[b]Highforge Keep[/b]

''It's getting close.'' Dave announced.
''How can you tell?''
''I can smell it.''
Marty dared to inhale, sniffing deep and long, his ribcage creaking slightly.
He gagged and immediately sealed the driver's hatch in time for a bloated zombie to throw itself onto the glacis plate of the tank with a wet thud. It scrabbled, trying to get its fingers into the scars and dents of long gone tank-on-tank combat that marked the solid steel plating as it tried frantically and - Marty had to admit - somewhat comically to crawl up the tank to get to the broken cupola hatch atop the turret. More zombies surrounded them, drooling, moaning and shuffling forward, closing in on the stationary tank.
''Are we fucking going or what?'' Dave snarled as he spun the chain gun around on its well oiled ring mount, spraying the surrounding zombies liberally. He loaded another belt, yanking the empty free and dropping it into the turret. ''I really would like to fucking leave!''
Yet more zombies dropped from the high walls of the medieval fort, tumbling down the dry moat and crawling up the otherside to join the others. The zombie on the glacis plate was licking at the driver's optics hopefully with a swollen purple tongue covered in boils, its broken fingers gripping the the seams of the hatch with determination as it gradually hauled itself upwards on flabby, insect chewed arms. Marty cursed and started the tank. The thunder of the engine drowned out the roar of the chain gun and the gurgles, moans and hisses of the surrounding zombies. Dave was jerked back, a stream of bullets stitching up through the crowd and into the air briefly as the tank leapt forward with a belch of black smoke. He dropped back into the turret as Marty took a wide turning circle, gripped the controls of the main gun and activated the system. He felt the traction give for a brief moment as the tank's treads ground up a group of zombies, turning them into diseased mush, then re-catch as the metal studs bit into the turf again. With Highforge Keep at their backs, Dave lined up the big gun's reticle on the thickest knot of zombies lurching behind after them, shouted a warning to Marty and pulled the trigger. The tank jerked, it's engine whining for a split second as the recoil tried propelling the vehicle at a faster speed than it was currently doing. Behind them, the group of zombies disappeared in a gout of soil, smoke and fire, the ones surrounding the targets being tossed into the air like burning ragdolls, shedding limbs and trailing burning earth and intestines like grusome comet tails.

''BRACE!'' Marty yelled.
Rotating the turret forward again, Dave peered through his own optics and recoiled, getting a grip on something solid, feet and tail braced against the hull's inner wall. The tank smashed through the gift shop, grinding shelving units and knick-knacks beneath its weight and smashed through the back wall and plowed onwards through the car park, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. The fat zombie clinging to the glacis plate had been liquified by the impact and was now spread across the front of the tank along with a handful of cute stuffed toys dressed as knights and kings. He turned the little windscreen wiper on to clear some of the dark red and black streaked goo from his optics so he could see again.
''You're cleaning Bone King when we get home.'' Dave said after a moments' stunned quiet.
''Wonderful...'' Marty muttered.
They drove on in silence, keeping watch for anymore nasty surprises.
''How many people d'you think were in there?'' Dave finally asked.
Marty shrugged.
''About a hundred, maybe a little more. Highforge Keep is big, but I wasn't expecting it to be [i]that[/i] big. Bloody hell, you could keep an entire army hidden in that place.''
''So much for it being the sanctuary those people thought they'd found...''
''Yeah. Sucks. It only takes one person to lie about being bitten, too.''
''Selfish bastard, I'd like to know who he wa-''
''Is that the radio?'' Marty said suddenly, interrupting the beginning of Dave's tirade of abuse towards a dead man.
They fell silent, listening. Faintly, they could hear the crackling hiss of static carrying a voice that was just on the edge of hearing.
''I got it.'' Dave said.
He reached across to his right and pulled the Commander's headset off its mount on the hull wall, plugged it into the comm system's mains and fixed it firmly and securely on his head, adjusting the mic and fiddling with the controls on the turret's communications gear.
''Damn, Briant, you got a tiny head....'' He muttered, further adjusting the headset and pressing the earpiece firmly against the side of his head. ''Bone King to Unknown, Bone King to Unkown, do you read me Unknown? Over.'' There was more static and muttering. He tried refining the signal again then repeated his words.

''Bone King, this is Terrance Cosht, I am the governor of Gollona and I have a job for you. Over.''
The voice came through the headset so clearly and so suddenly it made Dave flinch. He covered the mic with a hand and gave Marty three sharp taps on the right shoulder, and told him to pick up Sid's old headset. Marty took the tank off the car clogged main road and stood them in a stand of trees a few yards away, the tank's painted green and black camouflage affecting decent enough cover, even on a bright midsummer's morning. He let the tank idle as he leaned across to snag Sid's old headset so he too could hear what was coming through on the outside line.
''Mr. Cosht, we don't have a governor. Haven't had one since the last guy got his head cut off by the king about three hundred years ago.'' Dave said pointedly, already not liking where this was going.
''You do now. It's a brave new world, Bone King, and as your new governor I would like to invite such accomplished and underpaid soldiers onto my team. You will be the vanguard for the new army-''
Marty pressed the receiver's button, sending a torrent of harsh static over the already weak line, cutting Cosht off.
''I don't know who the Hell you think you are, but it seems to me that you have no idea what's actually going on. How long have you been awake since the Strike?'' Marty demanded.
There was the slightest of pauses, then Cosht came back, purring.
''The length of time between now and my Awakening is irrelevent to the situation, Bone King.''
''How so?'' Dave asked, frowning.
''Because this job I have for you is very important and requires a lot of bravery and some extremely efficient marksmanship, two qualities of which I have been informed by reliable sources that you have in abundance. Also, it pays generously.''
''... [i]How[/i] generously...?'' Marty asked slowly.

''A month's supply of diesel and the contents of the Heavy Amoured Division's storage bunker that I discovered not far from my new office. There's a [i]lot[/i] of napalm mix tank rounds ready to go, as well as some replacement parts for your MPK-160. What say you?''
''I say what's the job?'' Marty asked impatiently.
''160...'' Dave muttered quietly, making a mental note to kick Cosht for the insult when he saw him.
''The recovery of some delicate information from an old facility near Highforge Keep. The back-up generator the place's running on only has a few more days left in it, and if that shuts down, the servers go down too, taking everything with them. Alas, it also utilizes special security systems, the main one of which you need to take offline via three quite specific voice prints. You'll figure that part out if you decide to take up this job offer. But I need that information, gentlemen. It's imperative that I acquire it before some lowlife bandit scum does. So, are you in?''
Dave and Marty exchanged looks. They clamped their fists over their mics.
''I don't like this guy. He's up to something.'' Marty said.
''Agreed. He's only been talking for three minutes and I already think he's a twat.'' Dave snorted derisively.
''You think practically [i]everyone's[/i] a twat.''
''Only the tossers who use words like Alas and Imperative. They're the kind of oxymoronic dickbags that get people like you and me killed.''
Marty chuckled, ''Alright, that's true. But it doesn't fudge over the fact that we need money. And supplies. Especially after that job we just left behind went pear-shaped.''
They stared at each other for a moment. There was no loot to be had from a failed mission and that was exactly what they had left behind shambling and dribbling on the main lawn outside an ancient fortress thirty miles back. They needed a fresh job to bring in supplies. The two reptiles sighed in unison.
''Least we can do is go have a look and see what's going down. I hate being left out of the loop.'' Dave said.
''If this is a government facility, it might have something interesting we could use.'' Marty mused. ''Cosht? Where do we go for this shindig?''


[b]Bruised Coast, 35 miles south of Highforge Keep[/b]

''Is that a school bus?'' Dave asked, staring through his periscope as they trundled forward past rusting cars broken sea-front shops.
Marty leaned forward and peered through his optics.
''Looks like it.''
''Huh, didn't know people were still using them as transport nowadays.''
As they rolled up to the beachfront car park they spotted an armoured, black painted 4x4 parked a few yards away from the beaten faded yellow and red striped school bus. Both vehicles looked heavily modified beyond their weight capacity and maximum performance output. The 4x4 was a standard civillian deal that had had a gattling gun bolted to its roof, a CROWS implanted in its front passenger seat and its windows covered up with sheet metal that had slits cut into them so the operators could see what they were doing. The whole vehicle was pristine with not a single scuff, scratch, dent of smeared bloodstain to be seen. 
It [i]gleamed[/i] in the sunlight, much like its operators; a tall, pure white skeleton and what appeared to be a light green mountain. Both were clad in identical black uniform.
The bus, however was another story entirely. It looked fresh from the scrapyard with dents, cuts and smears of road dirt, oil and blood all over it. Its windows were patched up with thick metal sheets and reinforced with what looked like the remains of mangled shopping trolleys that had been welded expertly into place to provide extra protection for the windows. More metal sheets where riveted and welded in patches all across the bus, metal bars forming a tight cage around the vehicle to add some form of structural integrity to the already abused chassis. Marty's jaw dropped when he saw the bus' armaments. Two .50 caliber machine guns, one sat on each forward corner of the bus and a pair or rocket pods situated further to the rear. A well armoured cupola was situated in the middle of the bus' roof, caged in by thick wire with a weapon mount for a heavy gun that was not yet mounted. All down its flank, he could just make out the little covered weapon ports that had been drilled into the armour of the bus just beneath the windows that were big enough to admit the barrels of a shotgun and nothing much bigger.
They could also just make out the sound of arguing as they pulled up between the two vehicles. Dave reached up and undid the string that was holding the cupola hatch closed and shoved it open with a clang, hauling himself out into the bright daylight. Marty popped the driver's hatch, took one look at the rotten mess of festering zombie guts that was clinging stickily to the front of the tank, closed the hatch again and squirmed his way into the turret and out the top with Dave.

''Zat is but a school bus parading as a tank! I am surprised you haven't been eaten yet!'' The black clad skeleton shouted derisively, gesturing at the school bus. ''I'm surprised zat wreck has not fallen apart yet!''
The semi-decayed brown, green striped thorny lizard he was sneering at leaned casually against the side of the bus, cigarette clamped between his chapped lips, fleshless hands tucked loosely into his combat vest. He watched the skeleton opposite him round on his own vehicle, running a gloved hand across the smooth surface of the bonnet in a loving fashion.
''Now zis, zis is perfect for today's vorld. Fast, nimble, elegant. Easily modifiable. Vhere vould ve be vithout zis glorious machine? [i]Dead![/i]Zat's vhere!''
The thorny lizard snorted so hard he accidentally spat his cigarette out. He started laughing hard enough that he had to brace himself against the bus, knees locked, shoulders back so that he wouldn't slide down onto his arse. He howled with glee.
''Am not taking insults from someone who cannot pronounce the letter W! Especially from the likes of you! You could not fight off common cold let alone fight failing, weakened Gollonan army! You could not even fight us and we neutral country with tiny army!'' 
The mobile wall of muscle that had been standing silently next to the armoured 4x4 took a step forward. The skeleton held up his hand and the larger reptile stopped in his tracks, purple eyes narrowing with hate. Dave and Marty exchanged looks, the former now sitting on the edge of the turret, legs dangling down either side of the main gun. Marty crouched close behind him, carefully studying the exchange as it continued, none of the three men paying them any apparent heed.
''So when Cosht said three specific voice prints....?'' Dave whispered over his shoulder.
''The Valdani I can put up with. They ain't done anything in the last four hundred years to harm us. But the Ferroni bastards? We've spent the last eighty or so years keeping them bastards from taking our country,'' Marty hissed angrily, ''I'm not sure I can go through with this.''
Dave grunted assent. Ferron and Gollona had been involved in random acts of war with each other for decades. Mostly it was Ferron who were the aggressors, playing on weak claims to landownership on Gollona after the discovery of a natty old document that was nearing a thousand years old at the time that claimed the two countries to have been under the rule of one sovereign. A sovereignty that was Valdani in origin, it was later discovered, which further complicated matters and upset all the wrong people. The thing that served to annoy the Ferroni government even more was the fact that Valdani refused to get involved with any altercations directly as a result of the Ferroni government's official declaration of war on an unsuspecting Gollona which had been quite happily minding its own business at the time. And when they did get involved, it was mainly in sending fresh medical supplies to Gollona's military body. The Gollonan government, past and present, had never demanded nor asked for Valdani's military aid, knowing that, as a neutral country, they would politely decline, so their low-level aid was a much needed morale boost. And Ferron's first and last attempt to strike at Valdani out of spite for them not taking military action against Gollona backfired horribly. The military that was sent into Valdani returned in tatters. All men and women were sent back alive, but all were wounded, mentally and physically. And all had horror stories to tell of the Valdani's hidden affinity for combat. It was then that they decided to instead renew their focus on the already weakened Gollona as opposed to attempting to take on the Valdani again, kicking off the war afresh after a five year lull of nothing but verbal insults and military parades - mostly, again were all down to Ferron trying to bait Gollona into striking back first for a change, to no avail.

''What're you grinning about?'' Marty asked quietly as the two soldiers before them continued hurling insults at one another, one irate, the other calm and collected and apparently quite enjoying himself.
''Just remembering the stories of when Valdani sent Ferron limping home with their tails between their legs, that's all.'' Dave smiled.
Marty remembered the stories well, too. His grandparents used to regale him with tales of when it happened during the first stages of the war. So did his parents and his history teachers. And each time he heard the stories, he found them more and more amusing.  That was when his grandfather had blandly predicted he and his friend Dave would end up on a tank crew when they were eventually conscripted. Marty and Dave hadn't grown much in height, but they had both started to develope the warped sense of humour and outlook on life early on in their childhoods that would have them both conscripted into the Heavy Armoured Division. At the time, Marty had had no idea how spot on his grandfather's off-handed prediction was.
''Have been like this all morning.'' Said a small voice from somewhere down to their right, hauling both tankers out of their reveries.
They looked around and then down. Standing next to the tank, arms folded across his narrow chest and watching the altercation was another skeleton. He wore a pair of torn black jeans, a dark blue t-shirt and a similiar armoured vest to his companion. And like his companion, he was covered in enough guns, knives and grenades to be considered a one-man war crime.
''Am Sesnal Lef. Thorny guy over there is Major Lusston Jorgon. Idiot he be arguing with is Lieutenant Androff Lexmar. The walking pile of muscle is Lance-Corporal Aelon Nozgough. We are here on mission. Same for you, yes?''
''Uh, yeah. I'm Sergeant Dave Crae and this is Corporal Martin Wossen. We just call him Marty.''
Lef looked around, puzzled. ''We?''
''Ah, er, that's how a lot of us Gollonan scumbags talk.'' Marty explained.
''Ah.'' Lef said, understanding dawning, ''But only Ferroni fools think you scumbag, yes? Yes.''
''Only 'cos they can't beat us.'' Marty said a tad smugly.
It was at that moment that Lexmar spun around, jabbed an accusing finger at Marty and Dave and started shouting at them instead, much to Jorgon's amusement.
''YOU!'' He roared angrily, ''Gollonan zgumbags-''
''Gumbags?'' Dave started laughing.
''When you idiots are finally done belittling each other like small un-educated children, we'll proceed with your briefing.'' Snapped a male voice from the rear.
The arguing stopped immediately in favour for weapons to be brought to bear and trained on the two reptiles who had just climbed out of a scavenged army 4x4. One male, one female, neither of them wore army fatigues. The woman - a skeleton - wore a knee-length beige skirt and white blouse, a leather handbag hanging from one shoulder while she carried her suit jacket over the other. She was currently busy rifling through the yellowing pages pinned to a cracked clipboard, ocassionally looking up to scrutinize one of the six men before her. Her business suited partner who didn't really seem to be rotting much at all unlike the rest of them, was staring from one soldier to the next, his irritated yellow witchlight gaze finally landing on Lef.

Lef returned the stare evenly and appeared to be ready to throw the first punch.
''You don't look like the others.''
Lef shrugged, ''Am better shot than you think, Mistah Suit.''
''Sesnal Lef, worked for a small bus company in his area. Mostly school contracts. Self-proclaimed military buff. Never enlisted. Clean criminal record. He's pure civillian.'' The woman said automatically, the last words being said with a little disdain.
''Zivillian? Pah! You'll never last!'' Lexmar snorted derisively.
''You'd be surprised what damage he can do.'' Jorgon muttered under his breath.
Lef's permanent grin seemed to widen a little. Lexmar grunted and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, impatient to be getting on with things.
''Who're you two fairies?'' Marty asked blandly.
''Put your weapons down.'' The man said, tugging at a shirt sleeve to straighten it. ''Our names aren't on a need-to-know basis. Our employer put us in charge of this mission, so you just follow our directions and behave yourselves, is that clear?''
''I got a better idea. How's about we leave and go home. You smell like beaurocrats and I don't like that smell because it's fucking hard to get out of the furniture afterwards.'' Dave grunted, stood up and walked back across the turret top and dropped back inside.
''Agreed. May have come long way, but beaurocrats have habit of killing people like us, yes? So unless you are on truth speaking terms, we don't do as ask.'' Jorgon said, turning around and climbing back aboard the bus. Lef turned to follow.
''Ze foreign idiots and ze cowards are right. You cause us nozzing but problems. Zis vas a mistake answering zat call. Good day, zgum.'' Lexmar declared and climbed into his 4x4, followed by his mobile wall, both muttering.
''WAIT!''
They stopped what they were doing at the hint of panic in his tone.
''Go on?'' Marty prompted expectantly.
''... My name's Professor David Laut. This is Doctor Lauren Bassing. We were hired by Governor Cosht to help you retrieve what he wants.'' Laut grunted through gritted teeth.
''And vat do you zink zat you can do for us? Hold our hands if ve get scared of ze monsters ve actively kill on a regular basis?'' Lexmar pouted, his tone sweet and mocking.
A ripple of amusement went around the others as they slowly reappeared, their interest being re-stoked a little.
''Or maybe you hit Mutant over head with clipboard until it surrenders?'' Lef asked curiously.
Another ripple of amusement.
''Look, madam, idiot. We're trained soldiers. You're not. We can't afford to add escort duty to this mission, especially when we can just barely get along with each other. Unless you wanna be used as bait, or you're hiding a sniper rifle up that skirt and you happen to be a crack-shot or are a ninja or something. So you just tell us everything we need to know, we go in, shoot some stuff, grab the item and get it back to you in one piece, then you hand over our reward.'' Marty explained flatly, ''That's how we work. The less civillian casualties, the better.'' He reached into a pocket and pulled out a pre-rolled cigarette, sticking it in his mouth. He then proceeded to pat himself down, investigating his multitude of pockets - including his helmet - for his lighter.
''Need I remind you that Sesnal Lef is [i]not[/i] a soldier, nor has he recieved any training for such duties? He drives a school bus for a living for God's sake!'' Bassing pointed out haughtily.
''Am better shot than you.'' Lef grunted.
''Is true. This, er, [i]non-entity[/i], as you seem to think he is, saved my life. Many times. We make good team.''
''A [i]school bus[/i] driver! That's hardly something that needs thorough training or requires the use of a gun!'' Bassing persisted hotly.
''You'd be surprised.'' Lef said jovially, his grin broadening.
''Someone's never done the school run before...'' Dave muttered.
Marty chuckled.
''Enough vittering tiny voman! Vat is it ve are here for!?'' Lexmar growled angrily. ''And ze next zgumbag to go off on a pointless tangent gets shot!''

Bassing twitched. Laut stepped forward, chest puffed out and confronted the angry Ferroni soldier. He pushed him back against the 4x4, hand easily wrapping around the shorter skeleton's neck and lifted him off the floor.
''You're so desperate for your briefing, I'll give it to you- Uh?'' He started to hiss in his face until Lexmar's partner, Aelon Nozgough, slunk up behind Laut, grabbed a fistful of shirt and hauled him bodily away from Lexmar with little to no effort. Aelon used his free hand to grip Laut's shirtfront, letting go of the back of his collar and held him easily up in the air so that everyone had to look up at him.
''Do zat agen und I tear you in haff leetle leezard.'' Aelon grunted in a slow, thick accent.
Laut, clinging to Aelon's thick wrist with a death grip, stared open mouthed at him as he kicked at the air, desperately trying to locate the ground which had retreated to around about two feet below him.
''Zen I feed you two haffs  to Grotesque.'' Aelon rumbled flatly, holding eye contact. Then he let go. Laut dropped to the ground with a hard slap, scrambled up and put Jorgon and Lef between him and Aelon. He'd gone pale, his green scales turning a creamy pea soup colour. The genteel yet somehow non-sarcastic clapping of Jorgon, Lef, Marty and Dave didn't help his mood. Lexmar grinned like a shark and stepped forward.
''So. You [i]vill[/i] tell us everyzing ve need to know about zis mission so ve can make up our minds about it. Othervise, ve kill you. Ve kill you both and leave you as carrion.'' He paused thoughtfully, then looked at Dave and Marty, ''You do haff carrion animals in zis miserable country, don't you?''
''Yep.'' Dave replied simply.
''Ferroni are irritable little people. Suggesting you might answer his questions truthfully?'' Jorgon said politely, bringing his rifle up and resting it across the backs of his shoulders.
Laut and Bassing exchanged quick looks.
''Alright. We'll tell you everything we know.'' Bassing said with an exasperated sigh, ''Though it isn't much.''


Once Bassing had finished her explanation, which had eventually deteriorated into an angry tirade concerning the apparent short-sightedness of the old government and how much better life would be under the control of self-proclaimed Governor Terrance Cosht, she heaved a great sigh and seemed to shut down. Marty and Dave exchanged concerned looks as a brief silence descended.
''Um, you just turned what Cosht told us in five minutes into a twenty minute long ramble.'' Marty pointed out. 
The others nodded in baffled agreement.
''Speaking of this facility, where is it?'' Lef asked curiously, looking about at their surroundings.
All that was to be seen was a beach full of pebbles and forgotten fishing boats, a street of ancient seaside shops and the surrounding crumbling cliffs, and a cluster of rotting vehicles and weather-stripped corpses. There was no sign of a government or military facility. Unless it was hidden away within the walls of the tiny, barely used maritime museum just up the road, then as far they were concerned, it didn't exist and they were still wasting their time and fuel.
Bassing mutely pointed out to sea.
''Out zere?'' Lexmar asked incredulously. 
''Yes.'' She replied simply.
''To be more accurate, it's further up the beach, just in that cove. There's a hidden tunnel big enough for two artics to drive down side-by-side. The facility itself is under water, well out of reach and view of the public and basically anyone who isn't qualified to know about it.'' Laut sniffed, obviously not wanting to part with the information.
''You vant us to go into a building zat is undervater? Just how far undervater is zis place and how badly damaged by ze Strike is it?'' Lexmar asked flatly.
''We don't know. We managed to remotely access what's left of the security system though. Building integrity is at about half and life support systems are still functioning at minimum. Not that some us will need the whole life support thing, anyway.'' Bassing said flippantly, smiling.
More concerned looks were exchanged, then the group of armed reptiles went into a huddle.

''Do not like this.'' Lef grumbled.
''We are needing the reward.'' Jorgon added.
''Zey are crazy. Zey intend to use us for zeir own gain zen dispose of us.''
''Zat leetle voman eez strange.''
Dave looked up at Aelon, ''You've only just noticed?''
''We are needing reward that is offered.'' Jorgon said again.
''True, we need the supplies, but what we don't need is to be dead before Cosht.'' Marty grunted.
''You vant light?'' Lexmar said after a moment's pause, producing a lighter.
Marty stared at the little flame then leaned forward and lit his cigarette with more than exaggerated caution.
''Cheers. But you're still gonna attempt to kill us.''
Lexmar paused, considering this. The others stared at him.
''If Aelon haz not killed you yet, zen you are more useful zen ve initially thought. Ve try and kill you aftervards, ok?''
''Fair dos.''
''Supplies!'' Jorgon hissed. ''We doing this or not?''
''We are going to need to top up Bone King's ammo stocks before long. We've nearly tapped Drunken Shenanigans' autoloader clean.'' Dave sighed.
''I hate these people. Maybe we can use them as bait for whatever's down there.'' Marty mused.
''You zink zere is un-life down zere?'' Lexmar raised an eyebrow.
''I know it. It's a government facility, possibly with some military involvement. And if it's taking three nations to pull this stunt successfully, then there's definately something rotten down there.'' He replied. Then added ''There's something rotten about this whole thing, anyway.''
''Well?'' Jorgon prompted.
There was a brief pause as they thought about it. Then, as one, they looked over at Bassing and Laut.
''We will do this.'' Lef announced, ''On one condition!''
''What?'' Laut growled in annoyance.
''[i]We[/i] are in charge of what happens down there.'' He said.
They waited for Laut's reply as he ground his teeth.
''Ok! Fine! Let's just get on with it, shall we? This way!'' Bassing announced cheerfully and hurried off at a brisk walk down the beach with Laut trailing behind her, muttering obscenities.
''Uh, we need a moment to get sorted....'' Dave started to shout after them. They watched both reptiles disappear around the edge of the cliff close to the water. ''Ah, fuck it. We'll catch up.''


Neither of the armed reptiles knew what was worse about the tunnel; the fact that their gun and vest mounted torches did little to pierce the salty gloom or that what they could see looked as if something big and very ill had sneezed on everything. Slime oozed and hung like curtains from the clustered piping that lined the walls and the vaulted roof of the tunnel, forming greasy, stinking piles of green, yellow and orange on the sloping floor.
''Oh this is gross.'' Marty muttered, kicking a lump of what he hoped to be seaweed from between his toes.
''How far down does this thing go?'' Dave asked the darkness.
From somewhere up ahead, Laut's disenchanted voice echoed back to them.
''About a mile. We're nearly there, so stop your complaining.'' He grunted.
The others cast a look behind them, back the way they'd come. Daylight was just a small postage stamp of white glowing far above them. They walked on in silence for a while longer with sea water dripping down around them.
''We've found the door!'' Bassing announced from up ahead.
''Whoop-de-fucking-[i]do[/i].'' Jorgon muttered.
There was an ear piercing shriek of rusted metal hinges then bright light flooded the tunnel, blinding everyone. When their vision finally cleared, they padded to a halt, staring about the massive chamber, mouths hanging open as Laut and Bassing carried on ahead towards the squat white washed building up ahead.
''Vert ze ferk....?'' Lexmar breathed dumbly as his gaze followed the barely visible tracks of a false sun - a large spotlight that was still tracking slowly across the domed ceiling high above, gradually changing colours to match the time of day. The gently curving walls and ceiling were covered in a layer of LCD TVs, most of the screens blacked out and cracked, some showing static and a handful of the working ones showing patches of scenery that appeared to have once been a live feed of the beach and its surroundings far overhead before some of the cameras had been damaged, rendering the images fuzzy and off-colour. With thickly grassed and floral formal gardens surrounding them and a nicely maintained wide driveway leading off in two directions - one road forking off to a large, lorry sized access gate, the other pooling out and dead ending as a large, flat car park surrounded by small trees - the six reptiles still felt as if they were still outside beneath the summer sun. Even the face of the plain building could have passed muster without fuss had it not been for the fact that huge wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bay windows of the foyer gone a milky white-green with lack of cleaning. The closer they got to the building, the more cracks they could see in the place's veneer: cracks zig-zagged up and down the large windows, weeds were starting to poke through the tarmac, the formal gardens looked somewhat neglected and the big metal access gate to the side of the building was rusting and slowly coming away from its massive hinges.
''Am counting at least seven cars in car park. Could be more around back.'' Lef muttered, raising his rifle and sliding the safety off.

The others followed suit, fanning out through the car park as they eased toward the building in which their employer's two minions had scurried into.
''Eager little bastard's, ain't they?'' Dave muttered from behind his rifle.
''They better not get eaten by anything, otherwise we ain't getting paid.'' Marty added.
''Aelon, take point. I smell un-dead.'' Lexmar growled.
They stepped over a short line of wilting box hedges and pressed themselves up against the walls to either side of the door, rifles at the ready as the big Ferroni lumbered up, stepping into the fusty darkness beyond with a growl. A few seconds passed, then there was a shriek followed up by a lot of creative swearing. The others piled into the main foyer, safeties off, fingers on triggers, ready to shoot at the first thing that moved.
''WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE PLAYING AT?!'' Bassing shrieked in horror as she cowered behind the broad expanse of the dusty reception desk. She picked up a moldy old computer monitor and hurled it at Aelon, who in turn batted it away with his left hand and a snarl.
''Vat vas I doink? Vat vas [i]you[/i] doink?!'' He growled at her, ''You vere sneaking avound in ze dark like zombie! I could haff keeled you! Stoopid voman! Vere are stoopid man? You goink to get yourselfs keeled by running into dark vithout halp. Ve need you alife for our payments, so behave or I chain you to zeir school bus!''
''He can string more than one sentence together? Wow.'' Dave said in astonishment.
Jorgon and Lef chuckled whereas Lexmar cast all three a withering look and stalked up to where Bassing was cowering behind a decaying chair and staring up at Aelon with huge vacant eyes.
''Vell? Vere is he?'' He demanded.
''Who?'' She asked innocently, not taking her eyes off Aelon.
''Oh Gods, why...?'' Marty groaned, letting his rifle swing on its strap as he scrubbed his bony hands across his face in misery, ''Why didn't I just stay in bed this morning?''
''Have been asking myself that same question since the Ferroni rolled up this morning.'' Jorgon muttered, casting his gaze about the dust covered room. ''Is a lot of blood for such a tidy looking room.'' He added quietly, raising an eyebrow curiously.
Dave, Marty and Lef cast a surreptitious look about. There were brown stains just barely visible on the dark blue fabric of the bench of chairs that lined the far wall, with a few smeared hand prints just noticable in the bottom corner of the window nearest said row of chairs. The low table that sat amongst the chairs with it's scatter of rotting magazines had a few scratches in its white, polished surface, but those were the only signs of any struggle in the room. Lef stretched, his back arching to get a sly look at the door just around the corner from reception.
''Handles of fancy double doors is brown. A few spatters from what am seeing, but is all.'' He looked over at where Lexmar and Aelon were grilling Bassing about Laut's whereabouts, ''Am suggesting we forget Laut and head straight to objective. Judging from cars outside and blood in here, we are not in being alone.''
Jorgon scratched the back of his neck and winced as a piece of scale encrusted skin peeled free under his questing nails. Flicking the sliver of flesh away, he shrugged, rubbed the new sore spot on his neck and walked towards the door.
''Am thinking Professor Laut is not really needed. We have Doctor Bassing. She leads us to server, yes?''
''What?! But David- EEEEE! Put me down you brute!'' She flailed at Aelon as he reached across the desk and grabbed her, hauling her bodily over the broken computers and dumping her back on her feet before him.
''Get valking.'' Aelon rumbled.