- Doomsday - Volume One: Gods and Monsters

Chapter 75: Battle for Junkertown Part. 1

(AN: Hey all, hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'm really happy with how it came out and it's a little longer than usual, which I'm sure is good news. I'll try and get the second part out soon, not to keep you all waiting (though it could be a three part-er at this point, still not sure...) thanks for reading as always!)

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[A few more days later...]

"-and so I told Shoulder Thrasher, 'No! You can't use my bat to beat in Rock's skull', and then he had the nerve to call me a dirty desert dweller, the nerve of some people, eh?" A small trio of Junkers sat around the outer wall, a place of shade near the grand city gate, where they sat on hard boxes and played cards, a new game every time and with ever changing rules, but it passed the time. A blackened cigarette was strongly bashed into a smoke tray, flicking away the remains, an acrid smell hovering above the barrel. Sifting through their cards, faded and torn at the edges, a heavy hand smacked down a set of five cards, an ace, three tens and a two, for good measure. "Shoulder Thrasher doesn't know a bat from a crowbar, I wouldn't let him anywhere near my beauties!" another said, his voice confident after placing down his gambit, eyeing the other two competitors around the wooden crate.

"Oh yeah? Well at least Shoulder Thrasher knows how to place a good hand!" the Junker to his right piped up, slamming down his own set, an astounding play, as he revealed five kings, an unseen move! The two watched on in awe, aghast at the bold manoeuvre, "Pebble, I didn't realise we were playing seriously, why are you going all out?!" the once confident Junker shouted out, nervously glancing back and forth between his own hand and the new challenge. "In warfare, you never intervene when your enemy is losing to themselves, Steve." Pebble said, his eyes closed and arms crossed, flashing a cocky grin, he knew nothing would be able to stand against his royal assault.

"Wait a minute..." the third member leaned in close, analysing the newly set cards, beads of sweat slowly falling down Pebble's entire body, shaking slightly, begging to the Yowie for them not to realise his grand scheme. "Steve, these aren't real kings, you can't even get five kings in a pack, there are only four!" Steve looked on in astonishment, eyes wide and mouth agape, watching the bitter conflict take place, Pebble screamed out loudly, holding his hands up defensively, "You have no proof Rebar, you're just stalling because you know you'll lose!" Upon further inspection, it was incredibly clear that four of the five kings were actually just other regular numbered cards, however, in yellow crayon, a small picture of the Yowie bearing the Junkerking's crown had been hastily scribbled down. It was convincing enough for Steve at least, "I don't know Rebar, they seem pretty legit..."

Pebble screamed out with mocking laughter, "Ah, now you see the truth! Go ahead and draw your last pathetic card so I can end this Rebar..." his voice now cold and callous, his eyes daggers stabbing deep into his final opponent, it had all been leading up to this daring climax! In a moment of suspense and tension, Rebar's voice gained a brassy quality to it, a large bravado accompanying his next move, "My hand has no weak cards Pebble..." In a fluid motion, he held a singular card in between his index and middle finger, showcasing his last play, displaying it for all the table to see, shocking both Steve and Pebble. "But it does contain..." Steve's eyes dilated while Pebble's teeth clattered, biting the ends of his finger nails, "THE UNSTOPPABLE EXODIA!---" In the middle of his dramatic monologue a stone was thrown at the trio, crashing into Steve's temple, the simpleton who had already been leaning backwards, unprepared for the attack, falling messily onto his behind, wiping the top of his head.

"Hey, what the hell was that for!" Rebar shouted out with rage, Pebble patting Steve on the back, who looked upset with small tears building in the corners of his eyes, he couldn't just let whoever committed this egregious atrocity get away with it! Behind the three men, a group of ten or so young children, each wearing tattered rags, caked in mud and dirtied all over, staring back. What was most evident was the disdain they held towards the garrison, a hatred behind their eyes. There was a silence between the guards and the refugee youth, a heated stare off, as Rebar awaited a response, yet he wasn't thrilled by the response he got, as another rock was tossed squarely into his own face, bruising upon impact. Steam seemed to erupt from the Junker's ears, picking up a wooden paddle that had sat by the side of his crate chair, he hit the end of the stick into his palm menacingly, slowly walking towards the group.