Gun Bunny 1
People say shit. Hulking, rusty, skeletons of the boat graveyard. Yeah, ships that were too deep draft to get out of the harbor after a bunch of drunken, enraged, socialist, fucks, sunk an offloaded oil tanker that had been in the bay for minor repairs, across the mouth of the bay. It had been cheaper to unload them and abandon them than dig a new channel or clear the old one. So that is what the insurance companies did. Oh they emptied them of goods, oil, parts, anything that could be scrapped, and left the hollowed out hulks. Capitalism, yay.
Most ships came to America bringing raw material, well oil, some expensive shit they didn't have, cheap finished goods and leaving mostly empty back in the days of the riots, maybe the bulk cargo carriers didn't, but the rest? A little high-end cargo, or maybe like steel rolls and structural steel, shipping on the East Coast was in a perilous decline at the time anyhow. Everywhere really. It had been the transition from break bulk to intermodal freight. A hundred stevedores or one guy and a crane. It didn't take the Rain Man to do that math. And then the crews and their union. It was cheaper to register your vessels elsewhere, and crew them with second or third world crews for slave wages.
Oil of course, but the supertankers hooked up to buoys miles offshore, and Brockton Bay didn't have refineries. Well, one old one that was on its last legs in the seventies or eighties. Anyway, powerful unions and an out of control bureaucracy drove the ships away, taking the jobs aboard with them. Then, because of the declining number of jobs and stagnant wages, well riots. Then, next to no jobs and minimum wage if you were lucky. Isn't socialism grand?
Still and all some of the robber barons, captains of the high seas, and owners of shipping lines had made the transition. Well, one. All Father. Anders. He had turned a struggling shipping line, which was doing more smuggling than shipping, into a major Pharmaceutical company. Well, since he was already in the drug trade from his smuggling, it wasn't too much of a leap was it? Still kudos. Unfortunately, he was a neo Nazi bastard who triggered late in life, or, he was old enough, he might have been a straight up Nazi. It isn't like the Nazi party didn't exist in America. Its American branch was headquartered in Andover, New Jersey for god's sake. Or had a camp there, yeah it was a camp. The German American Bund, that was it. They had some camps in Pennsylvania and New York too. Well until the Second World War. Then his neo Nazi bastard children trigger. The daughter, Iron Rain, a true bitch, got whacked, but the son, Kaiser, inherited the Empire, literally Empire 88. Fucking Nazi's. Max Anders ran Medhall, like everyone didn't know he was Kaiser.
Rotten steel. Steel doesn't rot. If left unmaintained in a salt water environment it corrodes through oxidation. Let's be real. Now it had been enough years with enough storms that the oxidation had had enough time to work. A ship a week slipped beneath the waves making the whole mess even worse. Remnant fuel oil spreading it's sheen across the bay.
Brockton Bay wasn't dying, it was dead, and that sheen was the decomposition products. Taylor snorted. "Yeah, let's be real." She tossed another flake of rust like a stone, smiling grimly as it skipped four good hops then a million little ones curving to the right before plunging out of sight.
"Skin the color of warm coffee. Yeah, if you like your coffee black and bitter. What the fuck is wrong with Emma? How did I miss her going gay? Figures, all that shit she talked, any idiot could see she wasn't really watching the boys, just imposing some kind of media driven dream on them. Smelly things that they are. Bad manners and bad hygiene. Still, once you go black I guess. Hess does have a tight ass and nice tits though. Gah! I've been infected by the media!" Taylor looked around "Talking to yourself Taylor, nice."
Taylor looked around and manifested a weapon. She snorted at the Browning pump action twenty-two caliber rifle. It was a great little gun, and really it only took seventy-four foot pounds of energy and good shot placement to kill a man with a head shot, mob hit guys used twenty two caliber revolvers a lot allegedly, so it was more than enough. Nothing on what she could manifest and control in a fight when she was ramping though. That seventy five millimeter M116 on the M1 carriage had freaked those Merchants right out. "Me too really. That almost finished me off and had me piss myself." Taylor settled into the swaybacked arm supported position naturally and worked through twenty flying water rats, seagulls, on the wing before she let the gun go and the Gerber mark two appeared on her hip.
"Still at it huh?" Taylor leapt in the air, spun around, and landed in a crouch with a 1911A1 in both hands. The girl behind her stepped the rest of the way down from the door shaped hole in the universe laughing. "So, my stealth shit works then."
"Fuck Sherrel!" Taylor glared at the girl, young woman rather.
Sherrel grinned, then sobered "Still got man trouble Hon?"
Taylor rolled her eyes "My father isn't Skidmark and, and, well." She crossed her now empty arms under her breast as the Gerber reappeared on her hip.
Sherrel snorted "Skidmark isn't Skidmark anymore, since you blew his balls off. Tough fucker, looks like he is going to live though. Maybe, it's taking a while. So, we got a Nazi incursion. Want to help again?"
Taylor sighed "You would think the idiots would learn."
Sherrel shrugged "I think they can't tolerate a gang led by a woman, especially a race traitor woman."
Taylor nodded "Even though you have cleaned the Merchants up."
Sherrel shrugged "Me and the girls, but OK. The ABB are prepping again too."
Taylor smiled "Lung comes out I might finally get to fly."
"A10 or C130? You and the howitzer, I am betting C130 gunship." Sherrel moved back toward the armored truck she had climbed out of.
Taylor shrugged "Either or would be nice."
Sherrel shook her head "Your power is bullshit. If you hadn't manifested that S tank. I wouldn't believe it, or that you know how to work the damn things."
Taylor smiled as she climbed in the truck and shut the door "I only held it for a few minutes and then slept for two days."
Sherrel laughed "After eating a challenger. Then you got up and ate another one. Bob is going to bar you."
Taylor sighed "I know, and I made so much money on the betting. There are other all you can eats in town though. I could wreck a golden corral."
Sherrel laughed and started the truck. Taylor returned to her thoughts. Some people would wax poetic about what she had done, to over a hundred gangers, to Skidmark, Hookwolf, Oni Lee. Especially Hookwolf. The bright, pure white, fire as it burned its way out of him and the stinking clouds of burning smoke would inspire them. Hell, some had on PHO.
That was the second time she had manifested the pack howitzer and its spindly wheels. Nobody on PHO had said how rickety it looked though. Even that hadn't killed Hookwolf. He hadn't appeared since, but he had been taken into custody alive, neither had his body been identified out of custody. Oni Lee wouldn't stop. Maybe he thought she had to run out of ammo. She hadn't. Yeah there was nothing poetic about burning guts and ruptured corpses leaking gross shit in the gutter.
Hey, bright side, recruiting for the gangs was way down and the wearing of colors was verboten. Hehehe.
People also didn't know fuck about weapons. Not just the stupid, cunt hole, liberal, reporters calling self-propelled howitzers tanks, what else could you expect from all that money wasted by their parents on college where their liberal professors blotted free thought from their minds, and replaced it with socialism? What else was post-secondary education in anything other than a trade or hard science for if not to shape minds? No, the bangers too. One had told her an AR 15 was .308. Any dick knew that was an AR 10. An AR 15 was 5.56 NATO. A compromise cartridge, which had managed the test of time, oddly enough. Millions of dollars of Defense Department research not wasted after all. For once. She had shot him with one of each, once in each lung, so he would know the difference.
So, people said shit and didn't know shit. Same shit different day then. She frowned, she might have hung around Sherrel when she was drying out too much. Picked up some really colorful language.
Taylor stood up, flipping the hatch out of the way and grabbed the spade grips of the M134 that formed in the convenient pintle on the ring mount. She leaned back and twisted at the waist, slewing the ring mount around, and spun up the barrels. Tapping the trigger for less than a half a second spun up the feeder delinker and sent fifty rounds scything through the crowd of Nazis and put the rest to flight. Thankfully Taylors M134 wasn't as touchy about ammo as the real ones. Or her power made good ammo for it, one of the two. She would have to keep one manifested long enough to turn real and try it out. One way her power was different from Miss Militia's, maybe. If she kept a weapon manifested it turned real.
She had a basement full of pistols and assault weapons, and Sherrel's girls were armed to the teeth now. Everyone got a Gerber Mark II with a near monomolecular edge. Things would cut nearly anything. Kept the male Merchants honest. Well after the girls trained up with hard rubber Gerbers. Sherrel took off after the fleeing Nazi's and Taylor demolished their vehicles one by one.
Taylor grinned viciously as Rune sailed into view on a concrete slab. Taylor started demolishing it and whatever Rune threw at them until the Empire cape screamed in rage and fled.
Sherrel completed a slow circuit of her territory and things settled again. "You good Tay?"
Taylor nodded and let the M134 fade as she ducked inside the truck and closed the hatch. "Yeah, real good."
Sherrel grinned "Pervert, getting girl boners from cordite." Taylor smiled.