Trashgod – part IV

3 Mar

Four plazas later they ran into the second one. Then they started finding pits in every large, empty crossroad in the junk labyrinth.

” Boss … what do you make of this fallopian tube descending into the womb of mystery?”

Shit. Why did Percival always have to talk like that?

By the time they reached the orx’s treasure, darkness had crept in earlier because of the shadowy, mangled piles of thrash rising all over the place. Vasilisk’s eyes became the only useful ones, and he saw the tribe’s wrench-shaman hoping between heaps of treasure long before they reached him. If he could’ve distinguished facial expression in infrared vision, he’d known things were going to go bad when the ecstatic chieftain jumped down the humongous pit in the middle, banging his wrench on the metal walls.

“That was too easy …” growled Mini.

He seemed somewhat disillusioned – no bashing?!?

“Too easy. Let’s collect and split. I don’t like the smell,” growled Vasilisk.

“Wha’ smell, gov’nor?” Orion was tuning into Slang FM.”

“The smell of static.”

They rushed. The smell was overpowering.

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