Hades Butcher Hormone...
Lede still remembered every detail of hunting that dangerous sewer monster with Domisilon.
It was the first pot of gold they had earned after passing the gang trial, and the beginning of their rise to become Hades's largest gang.
Lede looked wistfully at the crudely made syringe, with a photo of him and Domisilon stuck to it.
"Sorry..." With his one remaining hand, he drove the syringe into a vein in his neck.
Lede lay where he was, silently waiting for the Hades Butcher Hormone to take effect.
He felt his eyes become bloodshot, his vision turning crimson. The pain in his shoulder vanished, and he felt the strength throughout his body increase considerably.
Grasping the huge iron rod, Lede expressionlessly pulled it out, leaving behind a wound as large as a bowl.
But then black mucus secreted around the wound filled the gap. Lede rose to his feet, gripping the iron rod that was half his height, and charged at the four huge rockers.
"Sir?" The soldiers saw Lede stand up again and watched him use the massive iron rod in his hand to batter the other four huge Orks.
"Stop asking questions. Go help the Commissar..." Lede forced out the words. He could feel the black mucus being secreted beginning to clog his throat.
"Waaagh! Wot's this? Go easy on us, seein' as ya listened to our music!"
"Yeah, yeah! We ain't even charged ya admission yet!"
The Orks were speaking Low Gothic, and rather standard Low Gothic at that. Perhaps they had privately composed quite a few songs in Low Gothic as well.
Thinking about it, Lede suddenly realized what those records that could never be played, which he always found on the battlefield, were all about.
"Admission! Admission! I'll blast you apart! Blast