Through the Eyes of a Low-life – Part 1

What’s this? An actual post? What’s going on? Is this the end of the world? In short, no, this is not the apocalypse. I have been inactive for a while and I apologise for that. I just lost all motivation to do any writing and the Let’s Plays were being a bit of an effort, considering that they’re not really what I’m about / were just an experiment. Well, here is the first part of a fan-fiction that I’m writing. To explain where this came from, it’s a 1st person view from my Scum that I played in a Dark Heresy game recently. Thanks go to the DM for putting on one of my favourite tabletop RPGs I’ve ever been a part of. Thank you!

Note, this is my first attempt at writing prose in a 1st person style so leave comments below on where you think that I can improve, or just your general thoughts and feelings. Be honest!

———————–

I stir under my make-shift blanket, groaning in discomfort as my cheek presses against the metallic wall of the shack where I have taken up residence. It’s by no means a comfortable place to spend the night, but at least there are no others inside. The interior of the shack is corroded, a brownish rust colour predominantly contributing towards the rather unattractive interior, though it doesn’t show much in the darkness. With no natural light, day and night means very little in the Underhive where I live. There is no time of peace or quiet, the people generally sleep when they felt tired in the best scenario. Many live in fear of the various gangs who patrol the Underhive, some just can’t sleep through the noises of life in the Underhive. Unfortunately for me, I am one of the latter. However, this inconvenience is one of the reasons that I’m still alive, especially considering the fact that I don’t exactly keep my distance from the criminal gangs in my line of work.

The rattling of autopistol fire wakes me up with a jolt. I roll over and grab at my stub revolver which rests in a ragged holster on my thigh, discarding my blanket to the side and peering through one of the gaps in the wall, using my free hand to clear a few rogue strands of red hair from my face. I hear the voices of two men, though I can’t make out the exact words. Another man lies still in the street with the other two men walking over to him. He is bleeding a lot and does not appear to move when one of the armed men kicks him hard in the ribs, beyond the immediate result of the kick. I just shrug and re-holster my pistol, grabbing my blanket once more and resting back against the wall.

“Idiot must’ve pissed off the wrong people,” I murmur to myself, trying to get back to sleep. I sit there for a while, trying to get back to sleep, though in the end I just give up, folding my blanket up and placing it into my backpack. I need to finalise some deals which won’t happen if I spend all my time curled up here trying to sleep. With another groan, I get to my feet, checking my surroundings. Nothing appears to be wrong, but you can never be too careful here in the Underhive. I move outside, always careful, always wary. There’s nobody in the run down street and I sigh again. I need to speak to Garth, but he’s in the settlement by the exit to the Hive. “Great,” I sarcastically curse to myself. I’m not too happy about trekking across half of the Underhive to get there, but I really need the payday. Business has been down since the Arbites cracked down on some of our smuggling routes to and from the Hive and Upper Spires, and of course I get hit hard by it, being lower in the chain of importance. Well, important enough to not be disposed of at least, so I guess it’s not all bad.

I make the trek to the Blood Fist camp and make my way to the bar where Garth based himself. We worked some good jobs in the past, so I’d like to think we’re on good terms. The guards at the gates just wave me through no problem. I guess it’s not hard to forget one of the few females in this game who isn’t some cheap whore. I’m a businesswoman, a good one, and I’m proud of it. I walk into the bar and place my hands on my hips with a smile.

“Hey, Red. Good to see you,” Garth calls over to me from behind the counter, motioning for me to come over. I keep smiling, walking over and taking a seat. “Can I get you anything?” he asks me. I shake my head and raise my hand in mild protest.

“Sorry Garth, here on business,” I reply, lowering my hand and looking at him. He’s not too bad looking for a ganger, I’ll give him that; short brown hair, brown eyes, a good smile and, most importantly, better manners than about ninety percent of the population down here.

“Oh?” he asks curiously, continuing to wipe down a dirty, glass mug, leaning on the counter.

“I know some people who are getting shipments down from the Hive,” I reply with a coy tone. I want him to verbally chase me for the information; after all, it’s his loss if he does not.

“What kind of shipments?” he asks me, only mildly interested though it’s sufficient. After all, shipments are not exactly uncommon. I grin.

“Heavy stuff, straight from a corrupt Imperial Captain. Military grade goods,” I tease, leaning back slightly on the stool. “We’re getting more than we’ll ever keep, so we wanted to give you guys here the first opportunity to get some orders in.”

“Not Dell and his boys?” he inquires, a hint of surprise in his voice. It’s true that Dell is often the first person that people go to for this, so I can understand his mild shock. My grin widens.

“Hey, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t influence some sort of favouritism in the dealings, huh? What kind of person do you take me for, Garth? Come on,” I joke with him, throwing my arms out to the side with a faked, emotionally hurt expression. He laughs, shaking his head.

“Well, regardless, I appreciate it. Thanks for the assist on that one, Red,” he responds, still mildly chuckling at my mock impression of being offended. I smile and get to my feet with a nod.

“Yeah, I got you covered there. Take care, Garth,” I call over across the empty bar with a brief point of my finger, before I make my way to the door.

“You too, Red,” he replies dryly, going back to his work as I leave. Another successful deal, I’m sure. Now we just wait for his people to reply with their order and we all benefit. It’s a win-win situation for us. Perhaps I’ll get a drink with him when it’s all done and dusted.

I walk out of the settlement again, making my way back towards my own. Sure, it’s dangerous to walk, but walking certain routes was far less perilous than driving; especially considering that most motors down here will barely run and probably break down and leave you as a prime ambush target. I’ve survived this long being the way I am, so if it isn’t broken, then why the hell should I fix it? I continue walking with a headache that seems to just come out of nowhere. I probably ate something bad, which wouldn’t surprise me; I live in the lowest levels of the Hive city after all. I keep walking through the pain, though it only seems to increase. I reach up subconsciously to my nose. Warm, and damp. I’m bleeding. There’s blood coming out of my nose!

Before I can try to discern what is going on, I black out.

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