One of those days
So there I was, behind enemy lines, a semi-functional Warhammer my only possession; and the only thing I have to talk to, my wonderful buddies having abandoned me when I overheated and seized up. Fortunately the battle goes off in another direction because I'm sitting there sweating from more than overheat, being a fish in a barrel waiting for the proverbial shot.
So now the trick is to get back to my own lines.
Easier said than done.
There are snakes crawling all over the drekking place between me and my unit – hell, any friendlyish unit would do, even the regular Federated Suns infantry – and me in the one peaceful place on this godforsaken dirtball and that's only because hell has already gone through it.
Well I have a few c-bills in my pocket; and there is a village nearby that hasn't been totally stomped; and I'm wondering whether to blow what I have on a bottle of whatever the local firewater is or on some ciggies.
I don't smoke; but having my mech show the way how to do it I was feeling frazzled enough to consider giving it a go.
Then I had the brainwave.
So I wandered my brave and fairly harmless machine down to the village, located a hardware store and bought a couple of cans of paint and a paintbrush.
A Warhammer that doesn't have a single working PPC, is out of ammo, and might on a good day get one shot out of one medium laser is still a Warhammer.
And a Warhammer with a big black spider on the torso with a red hourglass on it means that everyone steers clear of it whatever side they're on.
Nobody wants to piss off Natasha Kerensky; because whatever you've heard about pre-menstrual tension she keeps in pill form and takes daily to keep her mean.
And it worked.
Everyone kept a wary distance, and the one snake who approached me veered off PDQ when I raised my PPCs.
I can laugh about it now.
Just don't tell the Black Widow though, huh? I fancy she might not like having been impersonated ….and I like living with my head on the right way round.
Your round now.