Orlok and the Potato War

Orlok coughed in the dusty interior of the Sublevels under the plant. He wiped some sweat from his brow with a hand and admired his handiwork.

Yup, the bike was fucked. Even he wasn't able to save the damn thing after all the damage it took in the crash. Hmm.

He was bored. He was very bored.

He glared at the camera bot that had been buzzing above his head for the past hour. He sighed.

So *that* was how everybody knew about him apparently being the serial killer.

"-Death toll is still being tallied but estimates put the number killed in yesterday's riot as more than two hundred. The man responsible for invoking the rioting has yet to be apprehended but OSEC authorities believe that the individual known as 'Frankenstein The Unkillable' is still at large and hiding somewhere in the lower levels, near the informal settlement known as 'Little Oracle.' Local crime boss and BDSM enthusiast 'Roman Kreegish' was unavailable for comment.

Not much is known about Frankenstein save for the severe surgery scars running across his face and most of his upper body, hence his moniker. The suspect is reported to not feel pain and posess super strength, as well as the ability to fly for limited durations and defecate thunder."

Orlok chuckled slightly to himself. He was so smart.

A few days after coming off his drugs he'd seen an image of himself going to the OSEC station and talking with a guard. If the history on his one stolen and shitty phone thingy was any indication he'd tried to send a message to Romeo.

He had no idea why that bastard was contacting him BUT IT COULD ONLY MEAN ONE THING. *He wanted a rematch. A final battle between Orlok and the guy that ALMOST beat him in the arena.*

Too bad Little Oracle was almost always on lockdown either from Rowan's people or OSEC. What wasn't too bad was him mugging one guy for his personal recording device and finding that he'd cataloged all the footage of him going on a riot.

The people topside didn't much care about those below but if he could scare an entire subsector of LO into rioting and gang wars by a special blend if insanity and psychology then it might at least make the local news.

*He would become relevant to the damn plot, EVEN IF IT KILLED ROWAN!!!*

Still, he'd spend time nursing his wounds and gathering everything he needed. He glared at the wall where he'd hung a picture of his intended target.

Logos.

"Llllllllogos." He said dramatically.

"You think you're the baddest motherfucker around here?! NO. Tis I, Orlok! The serial killer Supreme. Arch potato of the Eighth reality. I shall destroy and TAKE YOUR SNAZZY ARMOUR FOR MINESELF." He shook a fist at the wall.

... Still, if he wanted to challenge the crazy tech cultist guy, he needed two things. Information and allies. Oh and money and equipement and minions and his goddamn potato.

Luckily, he had a plan to get back WHAT WAS RIGHTFULLY HIS. He'd spent the last few days cobbling stuff together out of junk and was ready to put his plan into action.

Rowan had been watching him, he assumed. How dare she make him a TV star and not give him a cut? He wanted fifty percent *at least*.

He grabbed his equipment and got onto the bike. It wouldn't last long enough to take him home but meh. He'd overclocked the engines, which was fun.

He rolled out of the sewage plant. The street outside was empty and suspiciously devoid of Rowan-Brand thugs looking to off him for causing trouble.

"Myay. Breasts." He kicked the bike into high gear and bit back a curse as it went backwards, sending him flying up a wall and into the sky.

He wanted to kill Logos and beat up romeo but to do *that* he needed to assert his authority with Rowan so that he could move around without these damn cameras following him around.

There was only room for one psychopath running Little Oracle.

"So, you understand what I want?" Orlok asked grimly.

"Yeah. I gotta go up to the entrance to the Flesh Pits, dance around and yell about how stupid Rowan is." The random hobo he'd abducted and drugged with Agreeably-enhancing medication stolen from that one pharmacy he visited a while back nodded earnestly.

It was funny because the teller just shat himself and ran out, leaving Orlok to steal *all of the things*.

"You shall also take this machine gun and shoot it a bunch while yelling about how awesome I am." Orlok handed him a weapon he'd cobbled together.

It was actually a bolt action enfield he'd found on some other dude he'd stabbed today but it wasn't like the hobo would know the difference.

"Yeah, [iall hail Frankenstein The Unkillable![/i]" The man rushed off towards one of the entrances to the flesh pits.

The part of the structure that was topside was a massive stadium-thing that had probably hosted some sport before Rowan went in and got her Rowan-ness everywhere
Yuck.

(Pirates Of The Caribbean OST - Cutler Beckett Theme. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCNwE\_sMoTA)

The hobo ran off into the central plaza, guarded by a lot of Rowan's goons, dressed in red armour and carrying assault rifles. Orlok watched from a rooftop several blocks away.

"Hey! Hey! Rowan sucks! Boom!" The hobo laughed insanely and shot randomly into the sky.

He was so proud. A few of Rowan's goons started towards him with mean looks.

Orlok turned to look behind him at the deserted streets. Yup, nothing cleared people off like a madman running down the street. The vendors had all closed shop for the day and fucked off somewhere safe.

The only people around here were the one's in Rowan's good books. Underling gang bosses and merchants that paid the tax on time every time. It was well fortified and secure and guarded very well once you got closer to the flesh pit itself.

He munched on a cigar as he observed the stadium from ten or so blocks away. He turned to the camera that was buzzing angrily at him.

Hmm, it seemed one of Rowan's techs had figured out he was a little close for comfort. No matter. It wasn't like he was planning on taking her on today. This was just him testing her a little. He observed the hobo and grinned.

The earpiece he had on him crackled to life.

"Rowan is a bitch! And she sucks! And she's secretly in love with Frankenstein, who is awesome! Yeeeah! And Frankenstein is super tough and is a lot taller than Rowan!"

The guards, predictably, stormed up to the hobo and put him into a pair of cuffs that they OF COURSE just had on them, being people of rowan's. He chuckled as they hauled the hobo off to the doors while he screamed abuse.

"Fucking idiot, mouthing off like that. Take him to Rowan and let her deal with him herself."

"You know, the thing about insanity is that it's like gravity. All it takes it a little... push. Like in that one batman movie." He spoke out loud to the camera and thumbed a detonator he had on himself.

He'd used up the last of his chemicals, both bought and stolen, and his tv screen and a lot of blood to put this together but it'd be worth it.

His earpiece crackled with the sound of sudden music.

"Hey, the fuck is that?" A guard asked.

He chuckled as the tape recorder he'd surgically emplaced into the hobo's stoamch began to play.

🎶
🎵Just a spoon full of sugar helps little Orlok ... Go down .... The little Orlok go down ... Just a spoon full of sugar... Helps the little Orlok go down ... In the most delightful way ....

"... What the fuck is that...? Isn't Orlok that one Frankenstein guy?" One guard asked dumbly.

"Yeah duh, you haven't caught the show yet? This guy must be a fan. Shitty music," The reinforced industrial blast doors opened up, letting him catch a glimpse of the inside.

Hmm. Luxurious. Nice couches in the foyor. He coudln't wait to urinate on those.

He let the doors stay open for a bit and waited until the thugs got inside. Just as they began to close the next soundtrack started. He thumbed a trigger

The doors snapped closed and he pressed the button in. A second passed. Then another. And another. He was worried he'd messed up the wiring and almost cursed.

Then the fucking doors blew off their hinges as the bomb he'd put inside the hobo went off in a huge fireball. A huge stream off fire erupted fro the guard's barracks and several windows on the second floor blew out. As far as structural damage went it could be fixed easily and it was only one entrance out of like sixteen.

Two dozen men on fire ran screaming from the building while the inside seemed to have erupted in chaos. This wasn't even the nice parts of the place, just one of Rowan's guard stops before you got into the main hub inside the building, at least he assumed.

Still, it was deeper than the external checkpoints.

But it sent a message that while Rowan was watching him, he also knew where she lived and was more than capable of getting at her if she pushed him.

"Hmm, secondary blast is taking a while.... oh wait there we go." He chuckled as the ruined leftovers of his hoverbike went screaming into the hole he'd just made, that one teenage girl strapped to it with a gag.

In his defense she'd been really rude. The bike flew into the hole but the flight system failed halfway through. It careened to the side and up and flew back outside before doing a twirl and slamming into one of the upper guard towers. It went up in a ball of fire and he chuckled as it slammed down into the interior grass of the stadium.

... ha, he hadn't even planned that, heh.

He had planned the single canister with a payload of mustard gas he'd whipped up in the lick of time. A bunch of goons that had been playing Soccer got caught in it and fell in coughing heaps

He turned to the camera.

"Hey there my lovely viewers. This show is brought to you by Rowan Kreeger. Undeniable drug lord of the lower depths, but here's the thing. That bitch owes me a fucking potato. I failed in the pits BUT THE POTATO WAS A SEPARATE CONTRACT JUST FOR PARTICIPATION AND I WANT IT!!! FUCK!

So, here's the deal. You know I'm one scary motherfucker. I don't feel pain or mercy or remorse and I the undisputed lord of the hobos, as demonstrated by my lovely suicide bomber there. I started a riot yesterday by accident. You all, my dear viewers, my thugs and my goons and my scum and my drug addicts, my lovelies... You're gonna make sure that Rowan gives me my damn potato. In person. At my sewage plant. Noon tomorrow.

For every half hour past noon that goes by, my people will incite a riot in the lower wards and shoot to kill. If three hours go by, I blow up a hospital one another for every twenty minutes after that. You don't want to know what happens after five.

I'm trusting you to make sure Rowan doesn't try to cheat me again. Oh, and if she tries to off me, very dumb idea by the way or fuck with me ever again in any way, I'll trust you all to know what happens if you don't... remind her, of who the fuck I AM. Hint, it involves screaming and blood.

Oh, and Rowan. I want my cut from the show. Sixty five percent of everything you make off me. Capiche? I don't mind you doing business in MY corner of Little Oracle but you're gonna pay the neighbour's fee, by fucking god. Oh, and I suggest you start putting together the money for the finger you owe me. Please, I don't mind coexsting but you need to learn to respect my boundaries AND NOT FUCK WITH ME. By the way, I've already blown up my first two hospitals, courtesy of two suicide bombers twelve blocks south. See you around." He spat his cigar out and leapt off the building where he'd placed a mattress beforehand.

He chucked his shiv into the surveillance bot's camera and it crashed with a battered whir. Rowan might have had others but whatever.

He landed with a grunt on the mattress and dived into an open sewer grate, closing it behind him.

Heh. As if he had minions willing to die for him. Meh, the public didn't know that. Right now it was up to Rowan. War or Peace. He was fine with either.