Part 4: Marv

Marv

'Some people are just born mean,' said Moobs, staring at Marv through the camp fire.

Dave's gang were holed up for the night, a few hours walk north of Motown, trying to get comfy and cooking rats on a stick.

'I heard he got that bolter shanking someone on the shitter,' added Donny, quietly.

'I was there,' whispered Spike, leaning in uncomfortably close for someone covered in spikes. 'He took his boots too, while the poor sod was still trying to breathe. Cold as you like.'

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments, mulling that over.

Moobs spat. 'Reckon he might be due a bit of an accident.'

The others, now also staring at Marv through the fire, nodded in agreement.

Part 3: Scalies, Boxer, Red & Croc:

Boxer

Red

Croc

Raving Reggie

Scalies

It is not widely known that more Scalies inhabit the Underhive than humans. Which is because they're rarely seen - surprising, given their numbers and monstrously huge, scale covered frames - and that most of them choose to hide in the darkest levels, of which there are many. Less is known about how they came to be. It's safe to say, contrary to Redeemer Raving Reggie's ramblings at the pulpit, they are not born of the unholy union 'twixt fat bloke and and frog. There could be some Ogryn in there, but really it's anyone's guess. What is known is they are massive - comprised, seemingly, entirely of biceps - bad tempered and commonly found in the company of Scavvies.

Boxer

Long before Boss Dave started his gang, he found Boxer. He found a bunch of squashed rats first and it was following this mysterious trail of guts and fur that brought him to a clearing in the piles of rusty metal sheets and bin bags that made up that part of the Scrap Yards. At first Dave couldn't see anything unusual and was about to leave when he noticed something odd about one of the smaller piles. It was breathing. On closer inspection he also discovered a pair of tiny yellow eyes, staring intently at him. A little wary - there's all kinds of weird stuff in the Scrap Yards - Dave edged his way towards the living pile and was almost within arms reach when it suddenly sprouted limbs, a head, charged and punched him square in the knee. As he lay on his back, trying to hold his leg together and swearing, Dave glimpsed a waist high, rust coloured blur disappearing around a corner. 'Gods,' said Dave to himself. It was a native Scrap Yard Scaly.

It took months for Dave's knee to heal - he still walks with a limp - and once recovered he went back to the clearing, put a crate filled with rats in the middle, and waited. And waited. And nothing happened. The next day Dave returned and there, in the center of the clearing, was a broken crate and a pile of squashed rats. He went off to get more rats. This process repeated for days - each time Dave finding a pile of squashed rats and leaving a crate of live ones - until one day Boxer was just standing there, out in the open, waiting. Very cautious now - the memory of his knee still red hot sharp - Dave walked over and held out a rat. For a while nothing happened ... then Boxer reached out, took the rat, and smiled.


Red & Croc

'Bloody hell, boss - I thought you were only gonna get one!' said Moobs, wearily eyeing up the two 8ft tall reptilian monsters. Dave's gang had recently stumbled on a couple of lost bounty hunters who, in exchange for directions out of the Scrap Yards, had given up their boots and more credits than any of them had ever seen. As leader, Dave had taken it upon himself to head to the slavers market in Motown to buy some muscle.

'Yeah, that was the plan, mate,' Dave agreed with a sly grin, 'but I got a special deal.'

Moobs eyes were still locked on the monsters, 'oh yeah, how come?' he asked, a note of suspicion creeping in.

'Well, Red here only has one eye,' said Dave, giving a Red a friendly pat on the shoulder. 'He's fine, just messes with his depth perception a bit.'

'Depth perception,' Moobs repeated.

Dave nodded.

'You mean shooting,' said Moobs, eyes now on the 500lb ballista Red was comfortably resting on one shoulder.

'Yeah, you could say that,' Dave conceded. 'It might be an idea to keep a wide birth when he fires that thing.'

'Riiiight,' noted Moobs, mentally branding that information into his brain.

'But they threw in a rat,' Dave quickly added.

'A rat?'

'Yup'

'A normal rat?'

'Well, it's got one ear.'

'A one eared rat?'

'Yeah.'

Moobs felt a headache coming on. 'Boss, we live in a dump. I can see 10 rats right now. And all with two ears.'

Dave rubbed his head with his massive hand - a nervous tic familiar to anyone that knew him. 'Truth be told mate, I think I got a little bit excited with all those credits and it went to my head.'

'Well, how much did you spend?' Moobs asked.

'All of it.'

Moobs shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was definitely getting a headache.

'But this one's great!' Dave exclaimed cheerfully, pointing towards Croc. 'Look at him, scary as shit!'

Moobs opened his eyes and looked over. Croc was indeed massive. Even by Scaly standards. And after a little while, 'He doesn't move much, boss.'

'No,' agreed Dave. 'Not very dynamic, i'll give you that.' And, after a short pause, 'he does fall asleep a lot. All the time, actually. Look,' Dave clicked his fingers in front of Croc's face a few times, 'he's sleeping now. Eyes open an everything!'

'Great,' said Moobs.

'But he'll make a good sentry,' Dave added. 'Guard the camp day and night'.

Moobs looked at the sleeping giant.

'He'll be fast asleep, boss!'

'Yeah, but only we'll know that.'

'But someone could just walk up and shoot him!'

'Well, they could,' Dave agreed. 'But that would definitely wake him up. And then they'd really be in trouble ..'