9: These Goblins are a Real Bugbear
"Now that's what I call a fight." Patton remarked with satisfaction. "Blood everywhere, people slippin' on entrails - that's the kinda stuff that audiences pay to see."
"Yes sir." Jacobsen agreed dutifully.
"Of course, now we gotta wait a whole day until they're ready to go down again." The ancient General curled his lip in annoyance, "These boys have good moments, but they need to build up some stamina."
"Indeed, Sir. Though I believe we will be able to eliminate that problem for the telecasts." Jacobsen flicked through his clipboard of notes, "Editing have been working on compiling a ten-part series to cover the whole run. We'll have to blur some of the content for TV, of course, but that just means better sales on the tapes and laser discs."
"Good work, Jacobsen." Patton drummed his bony fingers on the metal desk, "Might not hurt to start building up their profile ahead o' time. We've got a swimsuit issue coming up soon. Pull the girl out of there and get her in the photo shoot. Include some stills from that big fight with the goblins. Put her back in once she shoot's done."
"Is that wise, sir? What if she gets killed before the issue runs?"
"Then we'll border the pages in black. Get on it, Jacobsen."
* * *
"Are you ready to continue, Mister Anderson?"
"Call me Floyd, Joe." The scion of the King buckled the last strap his rhinestone-studded leather armour, "Not even mah daddy was 'Mister Anderson'." Floyd paused to check the condition of his coif, "He was either Mister Jenner or Mr Ryan; mah momma never was too sure."
"I shall pray for your mother's eternal soul."
"Ah'm sure she will appreciate the gesture, Joe." Floyd's mouth momentarily twitched into something suspiciously like a smirk, "Ah'll do the same for yours." As the Mormon nearly choked in indignation, the Elvisite continued blithely, "How 'bout we head down again and see what all we can kill?"
* * *
"No sign of the big furry bastard's body." Floyd commented as they reached the base of the shaft once more. "Someone musta taken it."
"Maybe they wanted him for fertiliser." Fabio gestured at the huge pile of rotting vegetation, with fungi of all kinds sprouting from it.
"Whoever they are, they're a little too organised for mah tastes." Floyd slapped the butt of his shotgun, newly purchased from the WCX store. "I'm glad I bought l'il Sadie, here."
The cave had three exits; one led to a dead end, the second to a deep chasm, dark and impassable. Floyd spat over the edge, watching the small white glob disappear into the blackness below. Nobody suggested trying to follow it down.
The third route led to a wooden door, closed and locked. Sadie opened it.
As the last smoking splinters of wood hit the stone flagstones, the three men stepped through the doorway, Floyd methodically reloading as he moved. The hall beyond was wide, the roof supported by dragon-carved pillars. Six doors led out; three to a side. For a moment, nothing stirred except the cordite smoke.
And then all hell broke loose.
Five of the six doors burst open, sallow-skinned goblins boiling forth. One of the creatures ran through the last door, shrieking in its native language. Chunks of stone blasted out of the wall behind it as it ran.
"Damnation!" Smith cursed, pumping his shotgun and unleashing another blast into the onrushing horde. "He'll bring more of them!"
The howling, yammering goblins swarmed around and between the three men, slashing at them with jagged, broad-bladed knives. One stabbed Fabio in the thigh, then ducked behind a pillar as he swung his sword. Stone chips flew from one of the graven dragons, but the goblin went unscathed.
"One down!" Floyd called, his golden guitar severing the neck of a goblin slower or less lucky than its companions.
"Two - aaargh!" Smith's cry of satisfaction was cut short as one of the creatures plunged a dagger deep into his side. Blood ran in thick streams from the wound, and a wet sound crept into the Mormon's breathing.
Floyd cursed, using rather strong terms than "damnation".
"We're getting swamped!" he called, ducking back so that a lunging dagger only scraped its tip across his chest. "If they do get help -"
The last door swing open once more, and another of the huge, fur-covered humanoids strode into the room, swinging a massively spiked morning star as it came.
* * *
"Are we getting this, Jacobsen?"
"Yessir."
"We damn well better be." The General pounded one fist on the desk, his lips splitting in a cadaverous grin. "Win or lose, this is these boys greatest moment. If they get themselves killed, I want to be able to watch it again."
* * *
The second bugbear's morning star smashed into Fabio's ribcage, driving the young man backward in a swirl of over-sprayed hair.
The first one, the fur on its arm matted with blood, bellowed in triumph and slammed its own weapon down on Fabio's wrist. There was a crunch of bone as the wrist snapped, the man's sword flying from his deadened fingers.
"The Lord strike thee." Smith batted aside a goblin's knife with his long empty shotgun, then buried his pick in the creature's brain. Kicking his way past another of the smaller humanoids, the Mormon reached out and touched a hand to the other man's shoulder. "And grant thee aid." Golden energy flared around Fabio's wrist, the bones knitting together just as the pain seemed about to overwhelm him.
The three remaining goblins swarmed over Floyd, now isolated from the others by Smith's move to aid Fabio. One of them fell as he swung his guitar, but the other two plunged their daggers deep into his stomach: hideous wounds that meant a slow death. The Elvisite slumped to his knees, hands clutching the jagged rents.
And the third bugbear strode through the door.
* * *
Floyd hovered on the edge of darkness, sensing more than seeing that the goblins had turned their attention to his companions.
Scrabbling at the smooth stone flagstones, he forced his battered body a few scant feet across the floor, passing through a doorway to lie gasping in one of the six rooms leading off the hall.
Vision swimming in and out of focus, Floyd stumbled his way through the words of one of the King's Great Songs. Warmth flooded out from his gore-spattered stomach, knitting his wounds closed.
Then, spitting curses that would make his mother blush, the young man pushed himself up off the ground and raised Sadie to a firing position.
* * *
"The Elvisite's back up but the Mormon's down!" Patton cackled as he dipped his hand in a huge barrel of pork rinds, "That lung hit musta finally caught up with him."
"Do you think they will win, Sir?"
"One out and one barely moving ... a goblin and a bugbear still in the fight. The Elvisite's done all he can with that last shot. It's all down to the pretty boy, now."
* * *
It was all down to Fabio.
He spun, and stepped back from the last of the massive bugbears. A glance to the left told him Smith was still down, a blood-stained goblin leaning over him. A glance to the right showed that Floyd was fumbling to reload Sadie. Too far, too slow.
His hands crossed over his front, snatching the pistols from his belt. The chrome barrels gleamed as they swung upwards, flames belting from the muzzles as he fired.
Two bodies slumped to the ground.
It had all been down to Fabio, and he had delivered.
And he'd got his best close-up yet, while doing it.