[Blood Bowl 03] - Death Match

by Matt Forbeck - (ebook by Undead)

  “Don’t worry about the cold,” Dr. Pill had said to the Hackers in their locker room before the game. “The cold is your friend. It helps to deaden the pain from all the injuries you’re going to sustain. It slows the loss of blood too.”

  These thoughts comforted Dunk little as he stamped his feet on the snow-covered Astrogranite, trying to beat some sensation back into his toes. He almost hoped that he would get hurt early in the game. At least then he could spend the rest of the day in the heated confines of the Hackers’ locker room.

  Dunk looked up into the snow-filled sky, felt the falling flakes melting on his exposed skin, and shivered. Then the ball arced down at him out of the ice-grey, and the game was on.

  “Looks like Da Deff Skwad aren’t shy at all,” Jim said. “They kicked the ball straight at Hoffnung!”

  “Well,” said Lästiges’ voice, “according to their coach, Yeevil Gutsnatcher, their stated goal is to take out Hoffnung fast and demoralise the rest of the Hackers. Once they see that Da Deff Skwad’s monsters can dismember whoever they like, it may make the surviving Hackers shy of the ball — not to mention their opponents!”

  The ball cascaded out of the sky and into Dunk’s waiting arms, and he took off running. If a bunch of illiterate orcs wanted to tear him limb from limb, they were going to have to work for it.

  Dunk zigged to the left, zagged right, and angled for the sideline. M’Grash and Edgar put up a wall between him and the onrushing orcs, but it wasn’t enough. The cold made the treeman sluggish, and a speedy pair of goblins snaked around his trunk to sprint right for the Hackers’ thrower.

  Dunk cocked back his arm and looked for a catcher downfield. He would have been thrilled to see Spinne waving her arms at him right then, but he hadn’t seen her since that night in the FIB Tavern. Most of the rookies had seen her departure as a bad omen, and had left the team soon after.

  The new recruits were so green that Edgar took to calling them shoots. Eager as kids on the last day of school, they worked hard, but none of them had the level of skill gained only by being blooded on the Astrogranite. Today, they’d pick up those skills, or die.

  But none of them were open.

  Then Dunk spotted Cavre breaking free from an orc lineman he’d left clutching a broken nose. Just as the two goblins came at him, Dunk loosed the ball at the blitzer and watched it sail through the air.

  He never saw it come down, though, as the goblins hit him hard. They wrapped their arms around his legs and brought him down. One of them sunk his teeth into Dunk’s thigh and only became dislodged when Dunk used the other goblin’s head to club him away.

  Even then, the two creatures kept coming at Dunk. Harming a player who didn’t have the ball was a flagrant foul — one that would get the goblins kicked out of the game. But as Pegleg often said, “It’s only a foul if the ref catches it, and if he’s been paid to look the other way, that won’t happen.”

  Still on his back, Dunk couldn’t find the leverage he needed to throw the rabid pair of goblins off him. They kept tearing at him with tooth and claw, trying to find the soft parts under his armour or the skin exposed to the bitter-cold air. If the thrower didn’t do something to stop them soon, they’d succeed — mortally.

  Then the goblins disappeared, and M’Grash stood over Dunk, holding out his hand to help his friend up. “Dunkel okay?” the ogre asked, concerned. His frown changed to a grin as Dunk leapt to his feet.

  “Thanks, big guy,” Dunk said as he scanned the field, searching for where the twinned goblins might have landed. They weren’t the kind to give up. He knew they’d be back.

  Then black lightning cracked down from the sky, and two smoking holes appeared only yards away. The ashes in them swirled around in the flash-melted snow, forming a boiling, grey paste in which pieces of spiked armour smouldered.

  “Wow,” Jim said. “I haven’t seen anything like that since, well, ever!”

  “Did you notice how that bolt split into two as it neared the field? You hardly ever see skill like that in a wizard. Most are perfectly happy to use two bolts when one will do, but that’s the sign of a true craftsman, someone who takes real pride in his killings!”

  “Let’s see that in slow motion!”

  Dunk looked up at the Jumboball framed under a gothic arch at the end of the ancient field and watched the two goblins smacking each other a high five before moving to attack him again. As they turned towards him, a single bolt of black energy slipped out of the sky. Then it split into two and arced into the helpless creatures, lancing through them and turning their flesh to ash.

  Dunk just stood there on the field, stunned. To think that he had such powerful protection humbled him, and he wondered if Spinne had been right all along. After all, it wouldn’t take much for Zauberer to turn such power on him. If that happened, what hope would Dunk have?

  Then Dunk noticed a Deff Skwad troll racing down the field at him, dragging a rookie Hacker from each of his legs as it charged for the end zone. Dunk had almost forgotten he was still playing a game. He sprinted towards the troll, angling to get between the creature and the goal line.

  When the troll spotted Dunk, it skidded to a halt, sliding several yards on the snow-slick field. The skid sent the troll straight towards Dunk, and the thrower braced himself for the impact from the tackle he planned to throw at the creature. But before he could launch himself at the troll, the creature flipped the ball into the air, straight at Dunk.

  Surprised, Dunk did the only thing he could think of. He stood up straight and caught the ball. He snapped his head left and right to see who might be coming at him, but seeing no one he pivoted on one cleated boot and sprinted towards his own end zone.

  As Dunk ran down the field, he saw Da Deff Skwad players, not chasing towards him, but scurrying out of his way, terror shining in their eyes. Seconds later, he stood in the end zone, untouched.

  “Touchdown Hackers!” Jim announced over the PA system.

  Dunk thrust the ball up into the air in triumph, and the crowd went wild. The Hackers fans — a growing contingent at any game these days, all dressed in green and gold jerseys and replicas of Pegleg’s perforated, tri-corn hat — loved the ease of the score, and even the orc rooters in the crowd had to admire the authority with which Dunk had scored.

  “Did you see that?” said Bob. “Not a finger laid on him. Amazing!”

  “Of course no one with any sense of self-preservation wants to get anywhere near him,” said Jim. “At this point, I don’t think his own team-mates would be willing to slap him on the back!”

  Dunk just grinned as he trotted back down the field. He might not like having Zauberer’s threats hanging over him, but Blood Bowl was an odd game that seemed to change with every match. He’d take touchdowns any way he could get them.

  When the Hackers kicked the ball off to Da Deff Skwad, Dunk ran right towards the ball. The orc who had it tossed it away in a hurried pass and then raced off in the other direction. Guillermo intercepted the throw and started to run it back. As he went, Dunk lined up next to him, ready to block anyone who might come their way.

  No one did. Every player on Da Deff Skwad kept a respectful distance from Dunk, and Guillermo trotted into the end zone untouched.

  “Thanks!” Guillermo said after he tossed the ball into the stands. “Linemen don’t get to score too often.”

  “Whatever I can do to help,” Dunk said, holding up his hand for a high five.

  Guillermo avoided the extended hand with a sheepish grin. “Ah!” he said with a grin. “You almost got me.” With that, he jogged off to get back into his position.

  Dunk frowned. Having his foes fear him was wonderful. He wondered if he could get Zauberer to threaten his life on a regular basis. But having his team-mates — his friends — nervous around him made him uncomfortable; he relied on these people to be his support system, and if they couldn’t rally around him when he needed them, who could?

  Maybe they thought he didn’t need them anymor
e. Maybe they had a point.

  In the next play, the Hackers went for a squib kick, knocking the ball only a few yards forward in an effort to get it closer to Dunk’s hands. The kicker — another rookie, of course — gave it a bit too much leg, though, and the ball bounced up into the stands.

  Losing the ball in the stands was a long-standing tradition in Blood Bowl. The fans loved it, as it made them feel like a bigger part of the game, and the players respected their fervour. More than one over-eager rookie going after the ball had been torn apart by a crazed mob of fans.

  In Dunk’s first game, for instance, he’d let one of the Reavers knock him into the stands while he celebrated his first touchdown. The fans had body-passed him up to the nosebleed seats and right over the stadium’s top edge. Fortunately, a series of awnings had broken his fall, or he might have been killed. Unfortunately, he’d fallen on the stand of a sausage-on-a-stick vendor who’d beat him nine-tenths to death.

  When the ball went into the stands, the smart players always waited for it to be kicked back out of the crowd. The game clock kept rolling while the fans had their fun. Blood Bowl had no “out of bounds” rule. The game only stopped for halftime or for scores.

  This time, the fans tossed the ball straight back out at Dunk. As he caught it, they cheered, and he waved back at them with a smile.

  Dunk walked all the way down the field and into the end zone. When he got to the goal line, he put the ball down for a moment so he could tie his shoe. One of Da Deff Skwad players reached for it, but the orc snatched his hand back as if burned when Dunk raised his head to glare at him.

  When the Hackers set up to kick the ball again, Dunk could sense the crowd starting to get ugly — well, uglier than usual. They’d paid good money to see a brawl of a match, and here they were watching a game in which no player had hit another for minutes. They wanted blood, and someone had denied them that.

  “Squib it again,” Pegleg had ordered the kicker. “We’re going to stay on Mr. Hoffnung’s free ride for as long as we can.”

  The crowd had started booing as soon as the Hackers lined up. That and the rocks, tankards, and other things they started to throw shook up the kicker. He booted the ball just a bit too hard again, and it ended up in the stands.

  This time, the crowd refused to give the ball back. Instead, they held onto it, bouncing it back and forth among them like a beach ball.

  The crowd roared with delight as they realised that they now controlled the match. They started to chant, and the noise quickly drowned out the general boos. As the volume of the chant grew, Dunk made out the words roaring out over the field.

  “Play the game!

  “Play the game!

  “Play the game!”

  “Amazing!” said Jim. “The fans are refusing to let the game go on until — well, until what?”

  “What do you think?” asked Bob. “There’s only one solution to this problem. Hoffnung has to leave the game!”

  “Hey, hey, ho, ho, Hoffnung has to go!” the crowd started to chant in agreement.

  Dunk flushed red under his helmet. He understood how the fans felt, but he hadn’t broken any rules. This was the first time, in fact, that his problems with Zauberer had managed to work out well for him. Still, he trotted over to the Hackers’ dugout to talk with Pegleg.

  “What in Nuffle’s name are you doing, Mr. Hoffnung?” Pegleg asked.

  “I just wanted to check in with you, coach,” Dunk said.

  “About what?”

  Dunk looked up at the crowd. “The fans, they’re pretty mad about all this.”

  “Mr. Hoffnung? Do you play for the fans?”

  Dunk shook his head.

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “No!” Dunk said.

  “Do the fans pay your salary?”

  “No.”

  “Who does?”

  “You do, coach.”

  “Right, Mr. Hoffnung. I hired you to win games for me, something I’ve had cause to regret on some days.” He put his hook on Dunk’s shoulder. “Today is not one of those days.”

  “Go home, Hoffnung!

  “Go home, Hoffnung!

  “Go home, Hoffnung!”

  Dunk frowned, upset, but he looked at Pegleg and said, “Just tell me what you want me to do, coach.”

  Pegleg grabbed Dunk by the shoulders, spun him around towards the field, and gave him a push. “Get in there and win this bloody game!”

  As Dunk trotted back into the middle of the field, the crowd’s chanting broke down into general boos. He tried to ignore it, but couldn’t. The noise made it hard for him to think.

  Cavre beckoned Dunk over to where he stood near the sideline in front of the section where the ball bobbed along atop the fans like a bit of flotsam in a rough sea. “Still in the game?” Cavre asked, leaning in close to Dunk’s ear so the thrower could hear him.

  Dunk nodded.

  “Good,” Cavre pointed up into the stands. “Now get in there and get that ball.”

  Dunk gaped at the team captain, but didn’t say a word.

  “If a bunch of professional killers like Da Deff Skwad won’t come near you, Dunk, I don’t think the fans will either.” Cavre patted Dunk on back.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “No,” Cavre grinned, “but there’s only one way to find out.”

  With a slap on the back of his helmet, Dunk started towards the stands. At first, the crowd kept on jeering the thrower, but when he made it to the restraining wall, the people in the front rows grew silent. He reached up and pulled himself onto the top of the restraining row, and all of the angry fans bundled up in their winter gear turned as white as the snow that had fallen on their furs.

  “Boo,” Dunk said.

  The fans shoved away from him, parting as if he had the plague or was made of something both unstable and explosive. They pushed each other aside, making room that wasn’t there in the sold-out stadium. Then, once he’d passed them, making his way farther up into the stands where the ball was still in play, they closed around him again, forming a bubble of solitude around him in a mass of people.

  The person who had the ball — a tall skaven with glowing green eyes — held on to it, unwilling to give it up to anyone else. Whether that sprang from arrogance or paralysing fear, Dunk couldn’t tell, but he kept on climbing up towards the creature, taking long steps from one bleacher to another.

  When Dunk reached the monstrous rat-man — who’d drooled something chunky onto the ball — the creature put the ball down on the bench beside him and stepped away. Dunk picked up the ball by grabbing an un-slimed spike, nodded at the creature and said, “Thanks!”

  By the time Dunk made it back down to the Astrogranite, the crowd’s booing had grown to a deafening level. The other Hackers had formed a knot near where he came out of the stands, and they formed a cordon that stood ready to escort him to the end zone. At first, he thought it strange that they offered him extra protection that he obviously didn’t need. Then he realised that they just wanted to keep close to him to avoid anyone attacking them instead.

  Dunk started towards the end zone, and then changed his mind and swept out towards the cluster of Deff Skwad players huddled together by their dugout. Their coach stood at the edge of their dugout, snarling and screaming at them. He’d gone so far as to hurl an axe at them, which had landed in one player’s leg, but they refused to move any closer to Dunk.

  When they noticed Dunk coming closer to them, they panicked. Dunk rushed at them, the other Hackers spreading out behind him like a phalanx of warriors ready to bring down the ultimate doom. The troll, who towered over the others, squealed like a little girl and then turned and ran towards Da Deff Skwad’s dugout. The other Deff Skwad players chased after him as fast as their shorter legs would carry them.

  Coach Gutsnatcher railed against his players as they flooded into his dugout, threatening to disembowel each and every one of them if they didn’t turn and fight. They ignored him, shovi
ng him aside and trampling each other in a mad race to get down the tunnel that led to their locker room. After a short commotion, the entire dugout stood empty, except for Gutsnatcher.

  “You!” the black orc said. He towered over Dunk and reminded him a bit of Skragger — whose head still dangled on the chain around his neck — back when the star player had been alive. “You can’t do this to my team!”

  Dunk grimaced. “It’s not me,” he said, “blame Zauberer. In the meantime, you might as well chase after your players and see if you can help them find their backbones. This game is over.”

  “It’s not over until I say its over!” Gutsnatcher said.

  On the field, a whistle blew. “That’s the game, folks,” Jim said. “It’s over! The Hackers win by forfeit!”

  “That’s what happens when you can’t get any of your players to stay on the field! I haven’t seen something like this since the last time the Greenfield Grasshuggers took on the Oldheim Ogres in the opening round of last year’s Blood Bowl tournament!”

  “Don’t knock that game! The Grasshuggers used that to establish themselves as the first halfling team with a survival rate of over fifty percent that year. They’ve had the best halfling players flocking to their banner because of that — well, that and the pies their manager’s mother makes!”

  “If this continues, it can only herald the start of a long winning streak for the Hackers,” Bob said. “The only question is, how long will Hoffnung’s luck hold out?”

  21

  Dunk didn’t know how long someone had been pounding on his door. He just wanted them to leave him alone. Pegleg let his players sleep in on game days to get as much rest as they could, and Dunk was determined to take full advantage of that today.

  “Go away!” he said, and pulled the extra pillow over his head, sandwiching his ears between the two.

  Mornings like this, on the road and alone, he missed Spinne more than ever. He sometimes found it hard to believe that she’d left not only him, but the team as well. As her agent, Slick had tried to talk her out of it, but she’d refused to listen. According to him, she didn’t even want Slick to try to sign her with another team.