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From the desk of the General

Part 8: Full of hot air

There are many departments within the Kaos Army and one of these is the Breaking Shed. The breaking shed does exactly what the sign says; they break stuff. Well, not exactly break as in render unusable, rather they break down various wondrous items that the army scouts find on their visits to other worlds and abandoned facilities. It is rare for such discovered treasures to come with instruction manuals and the tried and tested method of pressing buttons/pulling triggers and dutifully scribbling down notes telling what happened next is all undertaken within these walls. After the embarrassing events with the Titan armoured personal carrier, General Warlock has made it a rule to never touch anything that somebody on a lesser pay-grade hasn't already fiddled with.

One of his favourite toys is his laser blaster; he had spent too much time with a boring old handgun salvaged from one of the post-apocalyptic Earths and had fancied something that really reflected his personal growth into his role as Intergalactic Hero (self-appointed, naturally) and one glance at the glowing, green barrel-shaped curiosity with its clicky button trigger and futuristic disks jutting from the end rod had sealed the deal. This was his new flashy hip piece; sparking fond memories of bad sci-fi B movies from his home planet. He had held it in his strong grip and spun it in his hand feeling like Han Solo (except he had larger ears... and was grey... ok he didn't look anything like Han Solo but he FELT like him and that was good enough).

Being the commanding officer meant that nobody argued; though the skaven who had overseen this bizarre sight of General Warlock posing and pointing the exotic piece of alien tech had lifted a finger to say a few words before thinking better of it and staying silent.

"What do you think?" Anar had grinned, slipping the glowing green metal cylinder into his cord belt.

Whiskers had twitched. Words were found that the General would have wanted to hear. "I think... you should take care with that item, sir."

"Yeah?" Anar's ears had pricked, "powerful, is it? Duly noted. I don't use my weapon much anyway, truth be told; it's only for show. At least there's only one button on this, eh? Not like some of the other things around here." He looked around him at the racks of shelving filled with weird and wonderful gadgets and the hand-written notes attached.

"It's... temperamental, sir," the skaven explained slowly.

Anar's smile faltered. "Is that right? It's not going to go off without warning, is it? Not like that pulse cannon that almost took out the cadet shower block? Thank goodness for big bath towels, that's all I'll say!"

The skaven shook his head, "oh no, sir, not like that, but it doesn't quite work as intended."

The General laughed aloud, "sounds about right! I'll go play with it at the firing range."

The skavens mouth flapped open and closed a few times, "good idea, sir," he squeaked.

Anar had been very excited to show his best friends his new blaster and the two velociraptors had been patient while he waxed lyrical over its glowing green lights in three bars upon its fat body and the cool translucent disks with the same fluorescent shades emanating from within.

"But what does it do?" Rap had eventually asked.

"It's a laser blaster, obviously," he had boasted.

"You look silly," Rave had sniffed, "I preferred the glock, that's a proper officer's handgun, that is. You point that thing at someone and they'll laugh at you. Looks like you're trying to pick up Sky television with those plastic dishes on it."

"It... sparks a bit, doesn't it?" Rap had said with an air of caution, watching spits and fizzes crackle from his friend's hip.

"Oh, it's very powerful, the skaven back at the breaking shed said so himself. Listen, if you're finished here with the tanks why don't you come with me and check it out? I'm gonna go shoot at some targets."

Rave rubbed his scaly hands with glee, "bet! You'll probably take your flipping fingers off."

Anar rolled his grey eyes; "everything in that place has been rigorously tested mate, I am not about to end up in bandages."

The lowland desert baked beneath twin suns as General Warlock strode confidently towards the firing range. Distant targets had been peppered with holes and scorch marks dotted the sand around them from past sessions involving firearms great and small. He didn't visit this area often as most of his work was in his office or offworld, discussing contracts and peace treaties with other leaders and Generals. His presence on barrack grounds always gained a fair bit of interest and he adjusted his uniform smartly as a small crowd of nosy soldiers gathered around. He was more than eager to be the centre of attention. Anar could hear the raptors hissing to each other behind him. Missing the target completely was one of the things they were sniggering about.

He pulled the blaster from his belt and held it tight, peering down the scope as he lifted it in front of him to eye level. A little red symbol within was flashing. It could have been a sun, or a star of sorts. There were also some numbers, probably a battery level of some kind or the number of shots left. With his index finger he clicked the button on its sturdy, thick metal grip.

A jet of hot green plasma fired out, streaming towards the row of targets, melting two of them into a white puddle with a loud crackle.

"Crikey!" Rave yelped, "you weren't kidding. Never seen that happen before. Hope we've got spares of those."

"Oooooh, I don't like it," Rap wailed. "That's dangerous, that is!"

"Oi, gimme a go, come on big ears..." Rave pleaded.

"Get off you sod, I'm the General so I get the best weapon," Anar growled, lifting it out of the mean dinosaur's greedy grasp. The blaster fizzed and sparked.

"Stop fighting over it, you two! You'll melt me at this rate!"

Rave sulked and tried a different tactic; "Rap's right, you should take it back, shouldn't have it if it's so dangerous."

Anar lifted his snout, haughtily, "right, so you can go in and grab it? Not likely!" he took aim again, the searing beam taking out an area of rocky ground beyond the melted targets. "Cool," he grinned, widely. He took aim for a third time and clicked the button.

This time the barrel sparked even more... but no shot fired.

Rave was delighted; "he's broke it already!"

The sparks died down. A gentle hum filled the air.

"What's it doing now?" Rap asked, peering over.

"I don't know... it's just... well, blowing." Anar waved it around and his perfectly arranged forward sweep of soft grey hair bounced and flopped as hot air washed over him. "Look," he turned around.

"Don't point that thing at me, are you crazy?" Rap screeched, stumbling back.

"Where's the green fire gone?" Rave snapped. "What did you do to it?!"

Anar thought for a moment, "the skaven said it didn't work as intended. I don't think this is a laser blaster, you know, I think... it's a hair dryer."

Rave gestured to the melted targets and frothed, "THAT is not what hair dryers do, you absolute numpty!"

"You're right," he nodded, "because it was broken. I think it's fixed itself now."

The large raptor folded his bare arms, "well, break it again! It was more fun before!"

"It was NOT more fun, dear!" Rap pouted, "he's going to take it back, aren't you?"

"Well," Anar said slowly, "nobody needs to know it isn't a laser blaster... it's only for show, after all..." he tucked it back under his belt, smoothed down the wrinkles in his black linen jacket and walked back towards the main Kaos Army headquarters building. "Coffee, anyone?"