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Book: The Face of Satan's Bog
Chapter 26: Featherless Funk Pigeon

Digby had not fared well during the crash landing. His face was swollen with blood blisters and his left leg had acquired several new joints. Fortunately for him he was now unconscious.

As quietly as possible Sind’a Thighs moved Digby’s broken, ruptured, and badly bruised body out of the way and carefully crawled out from under the control console. It wasn’t easy - tonnes of debris littered the floor of the bridge making movement difficult and hazardous. She crawled to the edge of the console and peered round.

The green glow of the emergency lighting illuminated a devastating sight. Virtually the entire bridge had been destroyed. Broken power conduits hung down from the ceiling and torn cabling fizzed and sparkled. Most of the gloomy gothic artefacts that had decorated the walls lay cracked and distorted across the floor. One such piece - a three metre tall life size sculpture of a featherless funk pigeon - had fallen onto the corpse of one of the crew members, flattening him and spreading his innards across a wide area.

At the front of the bridge through a haze of smoke Sind’a Thighs saw what she was looking for - the blubbery and disgusting mass of Mister Blister. He was lying at the front of the bridge up against the shattered main view-screen. And he appeared to be unmoving.

The trainee bounty hunter decided to make her move. She got to her feet and took a few moments to brush some dust off her clothes and thighs. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped carefully forward, quietly avoiding the debris in her way. A bead of sweat formed on her brow.

After what had seemed the longest minute of her life, Sind’a Thighs reached the mound of flesh that was Mister Blister. The stench was overwhelming. With great will power, the trainee held in the contents of her stomach and picked up a conveniently placed two-metre piece of piping. She poked Mister Blister with it. No response. She poked again, this time hard on the back of his head. The was a tearing sound as the leathery skin on the back of his neck tore away.

Then Mister Blister moved.

Sind’a Thighs jumped back as the rancid monstrosity in front of her groaned like a demon and got to his feet.

“What in, the nation of Skoda dumplings, are you doing?!” Mister Blister screamed.

Sind’a Thighs stared at the disgusting sight that stood before her. Mister Blister’s head was torn and swollen, and covered in infected scars held together with large stitches.

Mister Blister cackled inanely and pointed. “I know you! Your Titsy Butt-thingy! You’re the bitch that smacked up my unholy army of the night!”

Ignoring the intense nausea welling inside her, the trainee spoke. “That name was a cover name. My real name is Sind’a Thighs.”

Mister Blister wobbled with annoyance. “Liar!” he yelled. “Why would a girlie nobody like you need a cover name?!”

Sind’a Thighs swung the piece of piping round over her head and slammed it hard onto the side of Mister Blister’s face, tearing off part of his left cheek. “I am not a girlie nobody!”

Mister Blister stumbled then fell to the floor. He looked up and shrieked. “Dirty froth mother!”

A deep feeling of pride filled Sind’a Thighs as she spoke the next sentence for the very first time. It was a sentence usually reserved for qualified bounty hunters only, not trainees. However, this was one of the few special situations she’d read about and it was completely justified. “In the name of the Superior Beings of the Great Hall of the Palace of Amino, I arrest you. Resist and you will suffer.”

Mister Blister stared at the trainee. After a few moments of silence he laughed. “Ha harr! You’re a bounty hunter! My devious plan of perfection has worked!”

“You are defeated. Whatever your plan was it has obviously failed.”

“Ignorant bitch! My plan was to entice bounty hunters here so that vile punishment could be bestowed upon them! You are here; no doubt others are with you or will soon join you! Vengeance will be mine! Mine mine mine!”

Sind’a Thighs was curious. “Why would you want vengeance on bounty hunters? I had to memorise the names of all the infamous villains slain and humiliated by bounty hunters over the last two centuries and ‘Mister Blister’ was not one of them. You are obviously a demented lunatic, devoid of good mental health.”

She whacked him across the face with the pipe, tearing off his other cheek. Then she spoke sternly. “And I am not an ignorant bitch!”

Mister Blister smiled and dribbled blood through his teeth. For some reason he spoke in a rough Lancashire accent. “Does you not recognise ma doom-ridden voice, lass?”

“Of course not.”

“Then your study of infamous villains was flawed. Do I not seem familiar?”

“I have only seen images of a few of the villains - Ken Kasino, Xjaq Dominator, Lawrence, and Gerald McFootfungus the Striation digester - and as there was no such villain named ‘Mister Blister’ I certainly wouldn’t have seen a picture of him, would I?”

Mister Blister put his head back and gargled. Then he swung his head forwards and spat out a large globule of bloodied saliva. It landed on Sind’a Thighs’ throat and trickled down into her cleavage. “Then you, my young trollop, must be the most ignorant bitch of all time!”

Sind’a Thighs brought the pipe hard down onto Mister Blister’s head. His scarred scalp split like a melon.

“Harridan! I haven’t finished ranting yet!” He tried to get to his feet. “Let me reveal my true identity! Then the fear of a thousand fleas will flood your soul!”

The trainee bounty hunter leapt into the air and spun around. The heel of her outstretched foot thudded into Mister Blister’s chest. The putrid fat man slammed into the side wall and sank to the floor.

Mister Blister groaned. Then he shouted hoarsely. “I am the greatest super-mega-awesome-villain ever! Let me prove the depth of the evil within my…”

One final blow of the pipe across Mister Blister’s forehead silenced him. He slumped forwards.

“The greatest super-villain I read about was a skinny little man, not a foul-smelling bloater!” Sind’a Thighs muttered. She grabbed hold of Mister Blister round the neck and dragged him awkwardly across the rough debris and over to the exit at the rear of the bridge. She noticed Digby under the console, still unconscious. She sighed and grabbed Digby round the neck with her free arm.

As she dragged Mister Blister and Digby off the bridge with relative ease, Sind’a Thighs reflected on how useful it was to have a powerful, well-toned, and drug enhanced quadriceps.

“This is getting rather dull.” Peter the Ace said as he crushed the skull of yet another zombie. It slumped to the floor, its neural enhancers fizzling and sparking.

Panman agreed. “We must have dismembered almost a thousand with ease. Where’s the challenge?”

The two first-class bounty hunters had wandered down over a kilometre of crumpled passageways and travelled up violently accelerating elevators, dragging the near-death body of Professor AmpléBläckett Hàgênmåclídensõn between them. Each passageway had looked the same as the last, each passageway had been filled with lumbering groups of the undead, and each member of the undead had been effortlessly despatched by Peter the Ace and Panman using only their free hands. What pathetic creatures these zombie warriors where.

With one high kick to the neck, Panman decapitated the final zombie of the current batch. He watched its head bounce off the ceiling and split in two as it hit the floor. Putrid ooze leaked from its nose. “That would have been cool, had I not just done it for the hundredth time!”

“Indeed.” Peter the Ace said, nodding. “Without our hand-held weapons of mass devastation, a mission just isn’t as much fun.”

Panman looked around. “Yeah, and this ship is like a maze. I have no idea where we are!”

“Without our hand-held sensor units, finding a way out isn’t going to be easy.”

“Too right, and my stomach is reaching critical status! I need a restaurant, fast!”

“Then we must act!”


Peter the Ace developed a thoughtful air of concentration. “Right, let’s think. As far as I can gather, we’ve travelled about fifty two decks in an upwardly direction.”

“And about two thirds of a kilometre towards the front of the ship.”

Peter the Ace looked confused. “Really?”


“Determining our vertical direction is easy, but how can you be sure of our lateral movement?”

Panman smiled. “When the ship collided with something, I made a mental note as to which way everything was thrown. As the ship was most likely travelling forwards at the time it was a simple matter to deduce which direction was forwards.”

“Your wisdom is as exceptional as mine!”

“Of course!”

With the new and highly useful information supplied by his colleague, Peter the Ace continued his analysis. “When we were sucked inside this vessel onboard the Korma Sauce it was possible to infer its height and length. I estimated six-hundred metres high and two-thousand metres long. Do you agree?”

“I do.”

“Excellent! And do you also agree that the most likely location for that hall full of hormonally suppressed girls was the very centre of the ship to provide maximum protection?”

“Of course.”

“Marvellous! Then I estimate that we are two-hundred metres from the very front of the ship, and fifty metres from its topside hull.”

“Awesome, Ace!”

“I thank you.”

“That means we only need to go up a few more levels, get Justin to bring the Blenheim down, and then we climb aboard!”


A muffled explosion followed instantly by a deafening crunch echoed up and down the passageway. Without a moments warning, a ten metre section of the ceiling crashed to the floor encompassed in a whirl of flames. A tenth of a second later, and also without warning, a large black thing crashed down into the passageway crushing the section of ceiling.

The black thing sat there and hummed deeply.

Peter the Ace hardly battered an eyelid. “That was entertaining.”

Panman was overjoyed. “I recognise that! It’s Ross Mental’s new tank! Finally some decent Amino hardware! Now we can cause mayhem on an unbelievable scale!”

A hatch on the tank’s turret whirred open. A ginger-topped head appeared. “Fuckin’ cool as a fuckin’ fucker!”

“Splendid timing!” Peter the Ace said. “We need an urgent ride out of this ship. Panman hasn’t eaten for over four hours!”

Ross Mental looked shocked. “Fuckin’ hell!” he shouted. “That’s fuckin’ unheard of!”

“Nevertheless, it’s true.” Panman said seriously. “My advanced stomach protection system cannot hold out much longer! It’s not designed to be this empty!”

“Maybe all those enhancements you had to enable you to eat more were a mistake?” Peter the Ace said.

Panman’s reaction was extreme. He yelled and punched the air. “Never! I’ll never admit to that!”

The tank’s side hatch swung open.

“Never mind that now! You’d better get the fuck in!” Ross Mental yelled, “The Blenheim’s hovering above. I’m sure its galley’s stocked to the fuckin’ brim!”

Without delay, the two first-class bounty hunters climbed into the tank.

“Who is that?” Peter the Ace asked, pointing to the unconscious dude in the front passenger seat.

“That’s my new fuckin’ trainee assistant!” Ross Mental replied. “I thought he was a real fuckin’ tool until a few minutes ago. Then he impressed the fuck out of me.”


“By insanely beating the fuck out of the fuckin’ weapons console and frying this fuckin’ ship’s topside!”

“Hmm… That is impressive.”

“Fuckin’ right! When I realised you guys where in here I had to punch his fuckin’ lights out to stop him!”

“Even more impressive!”

“Yeah! He’s fuckin’ useless at the moment though. Just chuck the fucker in the back to make room!”

With admirable agility, Peter the Ace undid Brother Drool’s harness then threw the trainee onto the back seat. Then he turned to Panman who was holding Professor AmpléBläckett Hàgênmåclídensõn. He grabbed the weighty and flab infested professor and threw him onto the back seat, nearly crushing the trainee.

Ross Mental looked at the obese academic. “Why are you carrying around that fat fucker?”

“He’s just an annoying but innocent bystander that we rescued.” Peter the Ace said, climbing onto the back seat.

Panman took the front seat, sealed the hatch, and fastened the harness. “Let’s go!”

Sind’a Thighs wasn’t exactly sure where she was going, but her instincts told her to head upwards. Trusting her instincts, she dragged the unconscious forms of Mister Blister and Digby into yet another elevator. Just like the previous one she’d ridden in, this one had to be operated manually - there was no functional computer control. Sind’a Thighs dropped her two companions and grabbed the two elevator doors and, pulling with all her might, she managed to close them. Then she ripped open a flat panel on the side wall sending it clattering onto the floor. Just as before, inside were four directional controls. She pressed the one marked ‘Up’.

The elevator car shuddered upwards.

Unlike the previous elevator, she hoped this one would get further than ten decks before failing completely. One of the few things in life that really irritated her was elevator cars that failed before reaching their destination. It was so annoying!

The elevator car scraped to a halt.

Sind’a Thighs examined the deck counter. Only eight! She leapt up and kicked one of the elevator doors in anger, the force of the kick opening the door slightly. Immediately, several decomposing arms were thrust through the gap accompanied by groans of despair. The hands on the end of the arms clasped and released their fingers in search of someone to hold. The trainee instinctively lashed out breaking off several of the arms at the elbow.

The dull snap of bone under flesh would have been highly disturbing for anyone other than a bounty hunter or bounty hunter trainee. Sind’a Thighs’ upbringing in the Impaler community with its bone-splitting rituals made her more desensitised than most.

More arms appeared to replace the arms that were broken. With wisdom beyond her years, Sind’a Thighs decided that another confrontation with dozens of mechanised zombie flesh eaters would not be a good idea. She began to fiddle with the elevator car’s control systems.

A voice interrupted her. “Ha harr!!! Look! My Unholy Army of the Night!”

Sind’a Thighs turned. Mister Blister had regained consciousness. She kicked him hard on the nose, breaking it in several places. Blood gushed from his nostrils.

The leathery fat man continued to speak, oblivious to the state of his face. “My foul legions are here to carry out my orders of vengeance! They’ll rip out your womb and wear it like a bonnet!! You are doomed I tell you! Doomed beyond the far reaches of the…”

A flying roundhouse to Mister Blister’s left temple finally silenced him. Sind’a Thighs returned to her work. She was running out of time. The undead outside the elevator were slowly forcing the door wider and wider. They would gain access in less than a minute.

The elevator car lurched upwards a few centimetres. The trainee bounty hunter played with the control mechanism a bit more. Success! The elevator car shot up, ripping off more than half-a-dozen arms in the process. The sound of the moaning corpses faded to nothing.

Thirty seconds later the elevator car stopped. Sind’a Thighs looked at the deck counter. This time it had raised twenty-six decks and the current deck number display was showing two - almost at the top. That was good enough. The bounty hunter trainee stepped over to the doors and slowly peered through the gap. Outside was room with a large view-port at the far end. There was no sign of any of the undead. Sind’a Thighs pushed the doors apart then stepped out into the room pulling Digby and Mister Blister behind her. She dropped them both then wandered over to the view-port. A magnificent late evening ocean panorama greeted her. The sky was dark and filled with stars, and a deep orange glow spread across the horizon. Down below she could see the front of the Satan’s Bog disappearing into the dark waters.

A deep rumble passed over head. Sind’a Thighs looked up. A dark shape thundered through the sky, its distinctive red engines glowing deeply. The trainee recognised it instantly as the Blenheim, the potent vessel that had taken her away from her pointless life in the Impaler community and given her the opportunity to train as a bounty hunter. An almost unbearable sense of pride washed over her as she watched it circle high above.

Sind’a Thighs composed herself. She had get outside and make contact. Turning, she grabbed hold of Mister Blister and Digby, and then strode confidently out of the room.

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