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Description
  “Spare a bite for a man with a story to tell. I didn’t always look like this; I used to work with Grady’s crew, chasing smoke from firefights and grabbing everything we could once the action had moved on. We had a good outfit, the best in the game, but Grady wanted to retire once he’d made one last big score.

  When Lothar Ironclaw made his offer Grady wasn’t keen at first, but there are few who can’t be bought and old grudges did the rest. Our arch rival, Frank the Mangler, had sided with the Crimson Scars, who’d been plundering convoys on Ironclaw’s land. Our orders were simple: we’d pick off their outriders and run from tougher opposition. The Scars would be blind without scouts and Ironclaw’s men would do the rest.

  Grady knew the terrain well, and our Packrats and Warhounds were fast enough to outrun the Mangler’s armour; but the Scars’ Buzzards caught us out. At first glance they seemed a joke – flimsy little gyroplanes that stayed well out of firing range – but next thing we were being hit by serious artillery. Panic broke out, and as we fell back, the Mangler’s Mauls cut off our retreat. When we turned to engage them, the Buzzards swept in and peppered us with gunfire. Grady threw his hatch open and knocked one down with his LMG; then a stray shell killed our engine, and we could only stand our ground.

  Our rounds bounced off the Mauls’ thick armour as they closed in for the kill. One of the bastards singled us out; he didn’t even bother shooting, but hit us with a wrecker’s blade. Grady and Zeke were crushed as we rolled while Kells was trapped in the cabin and burned. Even though I’d been thrown clear, I couldn’t do a thing for him; my bones were jagged shards of pain and my legs wouldn’t move at all.

  As the sounds of battle died, I watched the crows wheel overhead and wondered if this was the end. The Mangler’s men had other ideas; once they’d tended to my wounds they put me in this blasted cage. It’s made from bits of Grady’s rig, and now the Mangler hauls me round to watch him take all comers down. Best not to make him mad, you know? Spare a bite for a man with a story to tell!”

Description
  “Spare a bite for a man with a story to tell. I didn’t always look like this; I used to work with Grady’s crew, chasing smoke from firefights and grabbing everything we could once the action had moved on. We had a good outfit, the best in the game, but Grady wanted to retire once he’d made one last big score.

  When Lothar Ironclaw made his offer Grady wasn’t keen at first, but there are few who can’t be bought and old grudges did the rest. Our arch rival, Frank the Mangler, had sided with the Crimson Scars, who’d been plundering convoys on Ironclaw’s land. Our orders were simple: we’d pick off their outriders and run from tougher opposition. The Scars would be blind without scouts and Ironclaw’s men would do the rest.

  Grady knew the terrain well, and our Packrats and Warhounds were fast enough to outrun the Mangler’s armour; but the Scars’ Buzzards caught us out. At first glance they seemed a joke – flimsy little gyroplanes that stayed well out of firing range – but next thing we were being hit by serious artillery. Panic broke out, and as we fell back, the Mangler’s Mauls cut off our retreat. When we turned to engage them, the Buzzards swept in and peppered us with gunfire. Grady threw his hatch open and knocked one down with his LMG; then a stray shell killed our engine, and we could only stand our ground.

  Our rounds bounced off the Mauls’ thick armour as they closed in for the kill. One of the bastards singled us out; he didn’t even bother shooting, but hit us with a wrecker’s blade. Grady and Zeke were crushed as we rolled while Kells was trapped in the cabin and burned. Even though I’d been thrown clear, I couldn’t do a thing for him; my bones were jagged shards of pain and my legs wouldn’t move at all.

  As the sounds of battle died, I watched the crows wheel overhead and wondered if this was the end. The Mangler’s men had other ideas; once they’d tended to my wounds they put me in this blasted cage. It’s made from bits of Grady’s rig, and now the Mangler hauls me round to watch him take all comers down. Best not to make him mad, you know? Spare a bite for a man with a story to tell!”