Harlan Higgs and the Tower of Hashimoto

[Harlan Higgs]

Dead Dread Supernova

He'd seen his brand new helicopter already being flown away while looking out the window, so that had been removed as an avenue of escape. The only way out was down. Through the building, unless he jumped. The Ravnos didn't feel like spending a month in Torpor after a fall like that though, so that was his other backup plan out.

Down a stairwell, he paused at the door marked "39" and slowly edged it open, peering out through the crack of light. It showed him an empty hallway, with two burly ork guards standing at the end looking bored. "Yub chakka no grosh. Kejom thoo." One of the grunted at the other, who rolled his eyes and proceeded towards the door Harlan was crouched behind.

As the ork drew near, the door blew open and knocked him bodily against the wall. Harlan came out a split second later, a fist rocketing towards the greenskin's ugly mug. It impacted with a wet crunch, just as the other guard opened fire with a yell. A jury rigged rifle spitting pellets of lead towards them.

The injured ork growled in defiance and tried to struggle back, but Harlan caught his arm, twisted him around, and forced him bodily up the hallway into the oncoming tide of bullets. The smelly soon to be corpse jerked and danced as his friend filled him full of holes in the desperate attempt to put down the vampire charging him.

While the orc was fumbling with a clip to reload, Harlan kicked the dead ork he'd used to shield himself forward, climbing up it's back, and jumping towards the second guard, hand outstretched. A wet gurgling ensued as the dead man's knife palm went right through the thug, coming right out of his back. Harlan could hear shouts from further down the hallway, which led into a maze of cubicles and offices.

Grabbing the rifle from the floor, he snapped the clip into it and pulled back the slide, taking cover just as another hail of bullets peppered the spot he'd been standing. " 'e's loose! The blood drinker's loose!" Harlan heard the words coming from the dead ork's radio, leaning out and emptying the clip as surpressing fire as he ran down the hallway.

He burst into the main office floor, shouldering his way through a wooden panel. The assault rifle clicked empty as he stomped through a green corpse, throwing the empty gun at another grimacing foe. It was a constant, fluid brawl, bullets plinking off and through Harlan's skin as he used desk chairs, computers, ripped off arms, anything he could get his hands on to beat his way through the mass of orcish gangsters.

The Hutt's magic had done it's work, and the Ravnos was beginning to tire. He had no illusions to draw upon, little in the way of weapons, and the smell of orc blood was beginning to make his stomach turn. Ugh. So fungal and unnatural.

Finally, he took cover in an office, the floor splattered with guts and the groans of dead men. Harlan panted and spat, digging in his torso and forearmd with a pen to remove the rounds that had penetrated him. He wouldn't be able to put on a show of force like that again anytime soon. Not without a pick me up. And not from these fucking orcs, he wanted real blood. Human blood.

There was an airvent in office's upper wall, large enough to fit through. Apparently the Hutt wanted his underlings well oxygenated. Fantastic.

Harlan ripped the dampers off and crawled into the cramped metal passageways, his eyes glinting as he proceeded forwards into the maze of ductwork. The creeping slaughter was advancing downward, floor bu floor. He just had to be a bit more...subtle, for this next part.