TBoB - Book 3 - Chapter 8 - Chasing a ghost

So... I started thinking maybe I'd give the bears their personalities from well known games and media. As many have noticed Spooky is very much a WH40k comissioner. Bob is very much a lovable 80s sidekick. Can you guess who this is supposed to be? (Note: I need to do more research on slang for the future.)

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“Where the fuck is bandit?” I asked, turning around only to find the little fox standing directly behind me, causing me to jump. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I snapped at the little bot.

“What? You think that single bot can track that asshole down?” Helen asked.

“There are half a dozen more outside in the armored vehicles,” I mumbled. “Unfortunately Bob and Spooky aren’t exactly optimized to sift through all the sensory data that Foxes transmit to track him effectively, so… Nyx, gimme a bear booster,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Bear booster?” Helen asked.

“Are you sure? That would put you extremely low on points,” Dusty asked.

“But not critically so, do it!” I snapped.

As soon as the large injector appeared in my hand I immediately stabbed it directly into the side of Bandit’s head.

“Jesus! What the fuck Teddy?” Helen yelled as Bandit’s head spasmed back and forth violently. 

“Was that really necessary? It might have been slower, but Spooky probably could have handled the manhunt,” Nyx used Dusty to ask.

“Maybe… but this will be much faster. Plus I have way too many bears, and not enough commanders,” I replied, as Bandit slowly stopped twitching. “Plus he made fun of my hoodie,” I added quietly.

“I heard that,” Nyx declared.

“Are you ignoring me?” Helen yelled from behind Dusty. I ignored her and leaned in closer to Bandit, a second or two after he stopped twitching his eyes lit up and focused on me. 

“Hey buddy, you think you can track down that fucktard who wriggled out of here earlier? I know it’s probably too late, but I’d like to get to him before he talks to his superiors, so Nyx can track his calls,” I said quietly. “Whether you manage that or not, we cannot let him get away. Do what you need to in order to bring him back alive.” 

“No problem boss, leave it to me!” Bandit replied with a smirk. He took off at a dead sprint, but skidded to a stop and walked back a few feet to take a thermal axe off one of the other bears before sprinting off again.

“Is it just me, or did he have a strange accent?” I asked.

As if to answer my question I heard a yell of “Oi! You lot, let's go!”  from outside.

“What the fuck just happened?” Helen asked.

—

In the next sector over a shadow slowly made its way up the side of one of the factories, scaling the pipes in order to get to the higher levels. Progress was painfully slow, but this process was necessary. The lifts were far too crowded to risk getting accidentally bumped, or spotted, so that meant moving between levels manually. 

As soon as the shadow made it to the fifth floor it slipped between between a couple factories, using the back areas to slip through the area unnoticed and unaccosted. After about ten minutes the figure slipped into a blind alley, before raising a floor grate that’s partially obscured by steam, and disappearing below.

Only once the shadow was below, hidden away in its tiny lair nestled between the maze of pipes, did the figure drop its adaptive camo. As the advanced stealth deactivated the figure reached up and pulled off the helmet.

“Mother fucker, how the hell did the locals catch up with me so fast?” Marcus swore, checking out his damaged helmet. “I don’t have a replacement, nor the equipment to repair it. Command isn’t going to like this,” he grumbled before chucking the damaged helmet on the improvised bedroll. “No point in delaying the inevitable.” 

He enabled his augs, and switched over to one of the secure channels and pinged his handler. Or at least he tried to. After a few seconds the system failed and threw up an error message, ‘Unable to connect.’

“Useless piece of crap. Not only do I have to live in this shithole, but I can never get a signal. What is this? The twenty twenties?” Marcus mumbled. He briefly considered taking the time to change into something less conspicuous, but decided against it. The geezer always complained anytime he delayed in, despite this being a multi week operation. Impatient asshole.

Instead he grabbed a dirty robe and wrapped it around himself to hide the armor, before making his way back to the grate. After listening for a minute, he lifted the heavy grate open slightly, checked the surrounding area, then popped out. 

“Lets try this again,” Marcus muttered as he tried to connect to the channel again. The system cycled, displaying the ‘attempting to connect…’ message half a dozen times before it finally gave him what he wanted, displaying ‘Connected to secure channel.’ “Finally”

[Clive, you there?] He waited a few seconds, but didn’t receive any reply. [Yo, Jackass! You better be there, I have important information!]

The channel remained suspiciously quiet for several long seconds before he finally got a reply. [I have everything I need, thank you for your cooperation. Bandit, if you would please…]

“Fuck!” Marcus swore, as he cut the connection. “How the fuck did someone compromise the channel? It’s supposed to be untraceable.” 

[Maybe for most people, but not for me,] his augs flashed. Marcus froze. He’d already disconnected from the channel, which meant that message went directly to him.

“I’ve pissed off the wrong people… there’s a vanguard involved,” he muttered. “Shit! I have to get out of here.” As he turned back towards his hideout, he noticed a handful of figures standing at the end of the alley. They must have already been standing at the dead end when he emerged. Short, with massive ears.

“Oi, wanker,” came a quiet call from above him. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Fuck you!” Marcus spat as he extended the blade on his arm, slashing blindly at the figure above him. Before it connected something lit up the darkness, a bright orange-while light, and intercepted his blade. There was a brief sizzle, and just a moment of resistance, before his arm came back down, the blade melted clean off.

“Idjiot,” the figure mumbled before dropping down behind him, cutting him off from the open end of the alley. It was a stuffed animal wrapped in a camo cloak, but fully articulate. Behind him Marcus could hear the other figures start moving forward, probably planning to apprehend him before he could escape. He could not let that happen. Marcus struck out, kicking the stuffed animal in front of him, trying to make enough room so he could slip by. 

Instead of a stuffed animal, It was like kicking a steel wall. 

The thing only moved back half a step, before brushing his foot away. “Stop it.”

“Get out of the way!” Marcus growled, extending his other arm blade and rushing the odd creature. The blade slipped easily into the creature’s neck, for about an inch, then came to a sudden stop.

“What did I just tell you?” the strange eared thing growled. It raised one arm above its head, holding some sort of axe in its hand. The weapon went from a dull grey, to blazing white orange in an instant, and then the weapon descended upon Marcus’s arm. There was practically no resistance as the weapon cut right through his cybernetic, severing it at the elbow.

Marcus could only look at his arm in horror. “What the fuck?!?!? That was state of the art,” he yelled in surprise. 

“Well… ya shouldn’t have stabbed me then,” the animal scoffed. “Now hold still so I can apprehend you properly.”

“Fuck you!” Marcus spat. He turned back towards the grate. The other stuffed animals were still a few feet away, so If he could get it open there was still a chance he could lose the crazy things in the tunnels. At least, he could have if the axe didn’t strike out again, catching him in the knee. With only one arm to brace himself Marcus slammed to the ground hard.

“Now look at what you made me do. If you keep that up I’m going to need backup just to collect all your pieces,” the creature chuckled as it crouched down by his head. “Ready to go quietly?” it asked, lifting his head slightly.

“Go fuck yourself monster,” Marcus muttered, spitting the blood in his mouth in it’s direction. 

The red, fuzzy thing just smiled. It was a smile that chilled Marcus to the bone. “The name’s Bandit, mate,” it chuckled before grabbing the back of his head and slamming his face into the ground. As darkness started creeping into the corners of his vision, and consciousness started leaving him, Marcus heard it stand up. “I hope the next hunt is more difficult,” it muttered.