Editing Toyhammer (section)

=Chapter 9=

Thought for the Day: "Wait, where did that Baneblade come from? HOW DID IT JUST APPEAR IN THOSE SEWERS! It must have taken a tactical ge-

CREEEEEEEEEEEEED!"

- Assorted Enemies of the Cadian 8th

"Michael, we are out of food rations... and recaf." Commissar Tomas pulled his hat down, face flushed with frustration. "Our foragers report that they have little to no food left to find. Only those 1337th pack mules have an abundance of food, and that is your grass." He sighed, his hand instinctively searching for the flask of recaf that he usually had slung at his hip. Commander Angruss from the Logistics Corps was also haggling me for more supplies, but being the equivalent of a Quartermaster-General, it was expected that he worry for his soldiers' nourishment.

"My warriors are running out of consumables, Michael. The loss of the rat to your friend was... a waste. It would have made good food. The Chaplain is still anguished at such a loss." Eizak looked up, palming his helmet as his solid stare looked up at me. "They cannot fight on empty stomachs, Space Marines they may be." His voice grave, the Space Marine Terminator turned away.

"Gue'vesa'O Mi'ka'el, we have stretched out our supplies, and we need more. How may we help you?" Commander Firestrike cocked his battlesuit's mechanical head, no doubt from the neural tic that he had. Already, Devilfish troop carriers were hovering with their cargo rigs, ready to help.

The slimly built Kroot Shaper – a tribal chief that looked like a cross between a falcon and the Predators from the movies – growled in agreement as he nodded his head. "My hunters are hungry, Michael."

"Thanks for your offer." I smiled. I liked these Tau, they were actually helpful. "But I think running around in the middle of the city would be more trouble than its worth..."

"Mon-keigh, perhaps you wish to starve my people to death?" Zara had her hands on her hips, in classic high-school bitch mode. She gave me a burning glare as I thought of that idea, before continuing the rant. My mind wandered as she rumbled on. "Is that a new tactic of... what are you thinking, that might be a good idea!"

I stepped out of the upstairs toilet, brushing the last of the vomit from my cheeks. Dammit, Zara, wasn't zapping my mind a bad thing to do?

Grrrrmmmgrrr...

Great. Even my stomach was rebelling against me.

"Oi, boss!"

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, I KNOW WE NEED MORE FOOD, OKAY!"

"'tually, we woz wonderin' if we'ze could, y'know, blow summat up..."

"Oi, boy! You have a call!"

Vincent swung around on the swivel of his Gamer's Throne, and tapped on his cell phone, which was blaring its new ring tone – the recording of an Imperial Guardsman shouting. He tapped past the face of Alice's hilariously confused face – given to him from a Tau Stealth suit Shas'vre – and pressed the cell to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Uh... Vincent? Michael here."

"Yeah? Something happen?" The Asian boy sat up straighter in his chair.

"Nah, its just... could I borrow your car for a couple hours? I need to buy some food."

"... Sure. I'll help you out, if you want. I need to get out of the house and stretch my legs."

"Thanks."

"Be there in ten. See ya."

"Here we are." The nerd driver announced, kicking into neutral as we coasted into the parking lot.

Pulling into the supermarket, Vincent's old but still functional pickup truck rolled into the parking lot. The engine died at his touch as we slotted in between the trolley stand and a silver convertible.

Vincent pressed on the brake, jolting my satchel forward. It slid off the chair, and crashed into the footwell.

Instantly, muffled voices cried out in discomfort.

The two of us looked at each other, the color draining from my face as soon as Vincent began scrabbling for the underside of his seat. I arched an eyebrow as Vincent pulled out a rather battle-modified looking wrench – it read '18" Stainless Steel Drop Forged' on it, and had grip-tape wrapped around its handle – and prodded the satchel.

Hurried whispers called out for other people to 'Shut the frak up before he hears us'.

Vincent gave the satchel a whack.

More cries, less muffled voices rose up in answer.

My hand darted forward and upturned the satchel. A pair of 'Blood Raven' Scout Marines in their bright yellow armor (What the hell? Scouts in bright red armor?), a squad of four Stealth suits that shimmered as they stood back up, three Eldar Rangers in their dark green cloaks and a fire-team of five Imperial Guardsmen swathed in cameleoline cloaks tumbled out onto the floor.

"Had to expect that one." Vincent muttered, breathing a sigh and Bowing to his steering wheel. It seemed – to me – like a gesture of 'I don't want to deal with this, it's all yours.' - and soon enough Vincent was just lying back.

I picked up an Imperial Guardsman by the back of his cloak as he tried to skitter away. The rest scattered and disappeared into the footwell.

Vincent was quick, and being as large as he was in comparison to the others and the fact that he knew almost every nook and cranny of his car made their own stealth ability moot. He had gathered up the others in short notice; The Eldar Rangers were the last to be retrieved, and soon we had some very embarrassed guys standing there in front of us.

"What. The. Hell." I stared from one embarrassed scout to the other.

"Well, I can expect curiosity..." Vincent sighed, leaning back against the door of his car. I looked up at him, then back down at the toy-sized soldiers.

"But they still disobeyed me and followed me! Look, I can't have you guys coming along! What if someone sees you?" I shouted, and saw that even Space Marines flinched at my voice. I gritted my teeth.

The Asian boy sighed, and flicked on the radio, and fixed me with his blank stare, his eyes giving me all the communication that was needed. I was too loud.

Oh. Right. I was shouting; someone could had heard us. Dammit...

I cleared my throat, and stared at the assembled scouts, who were now shuffling their feet, wondering about their fates. Looking from one face to the other, I sighed.

"Okay, you guys stay here, in the car. You should be able to hide underneath the dashboard and not be seen."

"Uh..."

"I'll take it as a yes... look, if someone found out about you guys... things are going to get worse for us if they do."

"With all due respect, Gue'O, but we are scouts. We are trained to not be seen or heard, nor tell of our passing."

One of the Rangers coughed. "As well as that, mon-keigh, Farseer Zara is one mean b... witch, as you call psykers."

"... Fair enough."

"What's that, Gue'O?" A markerlight placed a bright green dot on a box of cereal. I quickly jiggled my satchel, throwing them off balance.

"For the fourth time, I said stop doing that! Just save it to a recorder and I'll tell you later!"

Vincent's elbow dug into my ribs as he hissed a warning.

"Michael, down the aisle..."

I turned to see a woman was staring at us, her son tugging at her sleeves. "Mommy... mommy... what's the weird man doing?"

The woman's implacable stare made us start sweating. Shoot... if she reported us to security...

"Ehehe... heh..." Vincent smiled in a crack-happy grin, waving at the woman. Hey, having served a stint as an actor didn't do much to impede his ability to creep people out with a smile worthy of the Joker. His almost bugged out of their socket, and he flashed his teeth as he grinned.

The mother's eyes widened in shock as she was presented with a view of Vincent's insane Asian facade. Mother and son double timed it out of the aisle while still trying to keep a parody of dignity.

We exhaled a collective sigh of relief when they disappeared around the corner.

"Blue-skin? Do not do that ever again." The Eldar Ranger sighed.

"Frakkin' xeno never learn, do they?" Quipped an Imperial Guard.

There was the sound of a bolt pistol being chambered.

Dammit.

I gave the satchel a good shake, which caused all occupants to tumble about helplessly as I thrust my hand in and rummaged for a non-existent shopping list, bumping into the various human and not-so-human scouts inside as I did. Vincent busied himself with checking the price difference between bran flakes and corn flakes.

"Guys, just stop it already!" I hissed into my satchel, looking at the dazed scouts below me. The group were now all confused and very much unfit to do combat with all the shaking around, or otherwise had wised up to the fact that I didn't want them fighting.

It felt like I was trying to keep a group of irresponsible kids with guns to try and keep still.

"Finished?" Vincent asked, leaning backwards to talk to me. "The stackers are getting worried."

Sure enough, a quick glance around showed that two of the employees had made their way over to us, and were now very slowly unpacking and repacking boxes of foodstuffs. I sighed as Vincent hefted a box of Sugar Rings.

"Alright, let's hurry this up."

We moved quickly now, with the boys in the bag behaving as they satisfied themselves with popping optical scopes out the top of the flap and seeing the world outside as it was.

Vincent and I went about collecting a lot of coffee and cereal from the aisle as we were watched by the two employees, and we managed to slip away without any trouble. The cereal was good, since we had small bits that didn't need cutting up to feed the minis, and then were also filling enough to get these warriors through a day. A bottle of milk made its way through when I talked to Commissar Tomas about additives to the coffee.

Quick detours down to the snack foods aisle yielded Kettle chips, special order from Justicar Amadeus. But since the messenger was Silverite, I doubted that was true, but got them anyway. A cruel part of my mind wanted to tie Silverite to an immovable object, and the~

*CLANG*

"What the hell was that?" I blurted, jumping up from my thoughts. I turned around to see Vincent grabbing a can of spaghetti, which had hit the metal bottom of the shelves.

"S'rry..." Vincent muttered, tossing the can back into place, and almost dropping another half-dozen. My bespectacled friend began to pick his way through the other cans, checking labels and wondering about their heft. His glances at the mini-Warhammer 40k characters did nothing to help with my imagination. The guy weaponized everything as a freaking hobby. I just guessed this guy was just bored, if he was thinking of using cans of spaghetti to fight off miniature soldiers.

"Gue'O Michael, what was that?" The voice from my satchel asked. Most likely the Tau Shas'vre.

"Just a can of spaghetti."

"Spaghetti?" The Space Marine Scout – I later learned his name was Iroquois Plisskin - looked up at me. "You mean those yellow magma worms from Roma II?"

"No. Its something you eat."

"You eat them?" Scout Sergeant Plisskin pulled off his eyepatch in disbelief, although he seemed more curious than disgusted. Maybe he wanted to try some out... I chuckled.

"N-no... its not like that. Spaghetti is just Italian pasta."

"... you eat industrial adhesives!" The Imperial snipers chorused.

I facepalmed.

"Seriously. Its just... food."

The gathered scouts looked at each other in a mix of disbelief, terror and curiosity. I just about Bowed in Frustration, but kept myself from doing so. Turning to the shelves, I quickly picked off a pair of cans – baked beans – and set them into the trolley.

Vincent was trying not to laugh as he grabbed an undamaged can of magma wo- spaghetti and throwing it into the trolley. A packet of flour followed, he needed some for himself (Vincent had also thrown in several packets of microwaveable meals and another packet of rice for himself).

"Yeah, and next is the packets of raw gravel." He chuckled.

"Vince..." I sighed.

"What? Seriously, you'd think so with the stuff they put in the candied popcorn."

As we moved on from the snacks aisle, we picked up several packets of twinkies (The Zombieland movie that I had picked up off Trent – another of my friends – had sparked both humor and curiosity, seeing as how – to quote Inquisitor Danilov - 'that man appeared to be more devoted to consuming that 'twinkie' than serving the God-Emperor in cleansing this vile infection'), and sno-balls just for laughs (Consistency, they say?). Popcorn seemed traditional for any future movie-going events, so I was throwing that in as well.

Besides the objects of curiosity, I also threw in a few random items for them to test out (but nothing sugary for the Orks. Madork'z boyz trippin' on Waaagh! was bad enough already. I didn't need them trippin' on sugar and energy drinks).

Vincent quickly decided on a little bit of ecological irony and opted to see if he could find as many fungus based foods to feed them – mushrooms were a good start. Also, fruit and meat. A lot of that went into the trolley, most of which were from Vincent throwing them at me.

Staple foods that didn't bleed or wasn't naturally green colored were bread and the various packaged meals that I had picked up, but then Vincent tossed me a five kilogram sack of rice, and with a promise of teaching me how to cook them (with a rice cooker, of all things).

"Let's see how that goes." He chuckled, leaning on the trolley. It rolled back, of course, and one corner slammed into my satchel as I moved out of the way.

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF~"

"Sorry, Sergeant... really, I'm sorry about that..." Vincent and I were walking through an empty section of the supermarket, with the former of us doing a lot of apologizing to the Imperial Guardsman. Sergeant Taum McTavish irritably nursed his left arm, which had been severely battered by the misfortune of being between a steel trolley and my thigh.

"Ngh... could have broken something, you know." He finished with checking his left arm, and moved on to the nasty bruise that was forming on his forehead – standing beside the Stealthsuit during that event had gotten him a few more very prominent marks.

"Like your brain, mon-keigh?" The Eldar Ranger asked. "I would have thought that you would have cracked that a long time ago, your intelligence considered."

"Y~!" The Guardsman moved to attack the Ranger, who immediately drew his shuriken pistol, but I beat him to the punch, so to speak. Lifting the Eldar scout up by his cameleoline cloak, I gave him a brief shaking to completely disorient him (although, to his credit, the bugger didn't let go of his pistol), then threw him into one of the side pockets of my satchel, before zipping it up.

"Dammit, behave, will you?"

"Uh... heheh..." Vincent was giving another of his cheesy/nervous grins down the aisle, indicating with a small gesture to a girl standing there staring at us with a very confused expression.

She looked normal enough, with her long black hair coming down to mid-back, and a simple, oversized black t-shirt over a purposefully tattered pair of jeans. Slim and gracefully built, she looked as if she were a dancer – I was reminded of the Howling Banshees and the Seraphim of the Adepta Sororitas.

But when I saw her face as she grinned at us, I froze.

Sharp teeth, as if filed down to their shark like, triangular shape. Wisps of unnaturally purple hair waved around as she pulled back her veil of hair to see us properly.

Deep red eyes peeked out, which seemed to transfix my friend and myself as she gave us a grin of pure psychotic glee. The girl's expression changed, to one of malevolent joy and excitement. She seemed like a small child that had just found out she was getting a rabbit for her birthday... or the cat that had just eaten the canary.

"Hwee haff foud hyuu!." She giggled, clapping her hands together. The girl seemed almost on the verge of joyful tears. "Nao... hwee arr sorreh, but hwee haff to keel hyuu... hai vant chuu bee fwee."

Dammit. What kind of deal had she gotten herself into now? Find me, kill me to be free! What the hell was with that girl?

She reached into the tattered satchel she had at her right hip, and drew out a knife. It was a weapon made for flashing: The serrated teeth told me that much.

Well... shit.

The Chaos Sorcerer known as Tzarvos the Shadow-caller tsk'd in irritation as he looked out at the scene unfolding before him. The marble turned scrying sphere cracked in his hand suddenly, before falling to pieces in his hand. His latest daemonic gift – batlike wings - flapped irritably, then folded behind him. He could be there in mere minutes, with his new ability to fly, but for now he could not see how he could stop the girl.

"Not as planned." He observed. False hope was one thing, but killing a potentially powerful thrall? Not. As. Planned.