The Cleanse SFSD #4 Round I

Jay and Silent Bob quotes for Angus are in bold :P

“Nyx! Get down... Fuck!”  Purple hair blew past my face as Nyx dove for cover.  She face-planted into my lap in an incredibly compromising position which I might have enjoyed if it hadn’t caused my balls to rocket from their preferred location and wind up somewhere near my spleen.

There was no time to focus on the pain of my crushed bollocks as I opened fire.  The Cleanse we were tracking was badly damaged, we figured we’d take it down between us without a fuss.  We were wrong.  It looked like shit, but hell, what Mech wouldn’t after spending over a hundred years laying waste to a planet?

Ammunition battered the rock face we were now both using for cover as Nyx raised her head from my groin and rolled to the side raising both guns high as we aimed for the Mech’s left shoulder.  Its munitions arm was fucked, we would’ve been too if it wasn’t for the rock; it couldn’t lift its rotating weaponry high enough to reach our position.

Fluid burst from the Cleanse’s hydraulic system as our bullets made contact.  I grinned as its arm dropped with the sudden release of pressure, spraying ammo into the ground until its joints were overcome with toxic grit and dirt from the Earth’s surface and it collapsed, its weapons spent and its locator systems broken.  

Dropping my guns, I finally allowed myself to curl into a foetal position with both hands clutching my bruised gonads.  “Careful where you fucking land next time Nyx, I might want kids when this shit is over.”

“You’ve gotta get a chick first Jay, an’ I gotta say I don’t hold out much hope for ya there.” The comms let off a painful burst of static in my ear as she chuckled.  “Have you seen yerself?  A grown man with his hands down his pants? Pfft.”

“Fuck off Nyx,” I grumbled as I clambered to my feet, “They weren’t in my pants...”  She rolled her brown eyes at me behind the safety of her mask - the same mask we all wore outside of the compound  - and flipped me the bird.  “C’mon now, don’t get all uppity.  Where’s the tools?  We’ve got a Cleanse to loot.”

She threw me an oily bundle which rattled as I plucked it out of the air and unrolled the canvas fabric.  I took a screwdriver and a pair of molegrips (A/N that’s a monkeywrench in the US of A) in one hand, gun in the other as I made my way towards the fallen Mech.

As I dismantled it, I searched for anything vaguely salvageable.  The metal was always useful, Nyx was proof of that in her Mechanoid body armour which made her look like a robotic hooker.  It also made her tits look amazing and it had kept her alive on a fair few occasions.  

“Hmmphh?” I asked as said tits appeared underneath my nose and breaking down the Mech was temporarily forgotten.

“I said I’m not even supposed to be ‘ere today.  I was meant to be working on Weapons Duty with Neff, but no, ya just had to come an’ drag me out into the Wastes after a broken fuckin’ Cleanse didn’t ya?”

Nyx had this dipshit theory involving Mech metal, circular blades and neuron sensors - a mechanical extension of the human form, though personally I didn’t get how it would stand up to the Cleanse’s automatic weaponry or how the hell she’d ever get close enough to use it.  She liked the idea of it and I liked her so I let it slide.

We trudged wearily back to our transport which would take us all the way to Camp ‘RB #2032’.  There weren’t that many resistance bases in all reality, but we were the best and had the highest Cleanse-kill count so we were named after the year it all kicked off.

* * * * * *

The New, New Testament - 2032 AD

2032 will hereby be known as the year of the Nephilim and will serve as warning to all who may follow and live to read this Testament.