The Hack Attack

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  The Hack Attack – Matt Forbeck

  About the Author

  A Black Library Publication

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  The Hack Attack

  Matt Forbeck

  ‘Welcome, Blood Bowl fans, to a special live edition of Where Are They Now?’ the grinning vampire said on the crystal ball as it flickered to life. ‘The top-ranked Cabalvision show that digs deep into the past of the Old World’s favourite game to discover whatever happened to the Blood Bowl legends of yore! At least the ones that didn’t die on the pitch!’

  The vampire arched his pointed eyebrows over his circular sunglasses, the dark lenses of which resembled the empty ends of a double-barrelled shotgun. ‘I’m Jim Johnson, and this drooling antique next to me is a legend in his own right, Bob Bifford!’

  ‘That’s right, Jim!’ bellowed a massive, stitched-together sack of athletic flesh long since gone to seed. ‘I am a legend – at least that’s what your wife calls me!’

  ‘How’s she doing these days?’ the vampire said to the ogre, a wicked glint in his eye. ‘I haven’t seen her since she went out for a nice, thick steak the other day and never came back!’

  ‘I think she meant “stake,” Jim! Maybe she’s the victim of homicide by homonym!’

  The vampire gave the ageing ogre a rueful chuckle. ‘That’s a lot of syllables for you to string together all at once, big guy! Don’t hurt yourself! Hey, wait! I think those were the last words I told my wife!’

  ‘Speaking of Where Are They Now?’ the battle-scarred ogre said, turning back to the topic at hand. ‘With some of the teams we focus on, we have to dig deeper than others. Those undead teams have a habit of digging their way back up from wherever anybody buries them!’

  ‘But that’s not the case with tonight’s team. We’re turning the spotlight on one of the greatest teams of the recent past, the Bad Bay Hackers!’

  ‘That’s right, Jim! The Hackers were more like a pack of losers up until a dozen years ago when Coach Captain “Pegleg” Haken made the best investment of his life and hired rookie Dunk Hoffnung as his starting chucker.’

  ‘The team rocketed out of obscurity after that, climbing up the rankings until they pulled off a nearly unheard-of feat – winning back-to-back Blood Bowl championships!’

  ‘The wildest thing about those championship Hackers is that many of them survived! Can you guess how?’ The vampire turned to the ogre, who hesitated as if he’d been asked to count past two while wearing mittens.

  ‘Well, Bob, there are really only two ways out of a Blood Bowl team – death or retirement! Since I watched all those games back then, I’m going with retirement.’

  ‘Right you are! There are different ways to retire from Blood Bowl though. The most common way involves eating most of your meals through a straw for the rest of your life!’

  ‘I have a feeling a vampire like you would like that!’

  ‘It depends where I get to put the straw!’

  ‘But most of the Hackers didn’t wind up being cared for by a full-time nursing staff. Well, except for Hackers linebacker Schlechtes Getrunken, but that was self-inflicted. After the Hackers won their second championship, he drowned in a vat of Killer Genuine Draft!’

  ‘I hear his teammates pulled him out three times, but he kept jumping back in! They couldn’t stop him until after he’d stopped breathing!’

  ‘Well, let’s check in with one of the surviving players who hasn’t retired yet. None other than Dirk Heldmann himself!’

  ‘Dirk started out as a blitzer for the Reikland Reavers, but when his older brother Dunk Hoffnung joined the Hackers, it seemed like it was only a matter of time before Dirk joined him over there. Now he’s moved up to become team captain of the Hackers himself!’

  ‘That’s right, Bob,’ Dirk said as the image on the crystal ball drew back to show him sitting at the announcers’ desk with the vampire and ogre.

  The man’s blonde hair had thinned to almost nothing up top, but he compensated for that with a magnificent, bushy beard that looked like it had exploded from the lower half of his face. His bloodshot eyes had a haunted look, like the black paint he regularly spread below them while on the field had long since decided it would never leave him again.

  ‘You’ve had one of the longest recorded careers in Blood Bowl – at least for someone who’s not undead!’ Jim said. ‘How do you manage it?’

  ‘It’s a simple matter of killing my opponents before they kill me,’ Dirk said. ‘That and the fact I refuse to touch the football myself these days.’

  ‘How’s that work?’ Bob asked. ‘Don’t you have to do that to score?’

  ‘I’m happy to let the younger players worry about padding their stats. I’ve already set most of the Hackers’ team records, and I don’t mind sharing the spotlight. Especially if it means I don’t have to die for it.’

  ‘You don’t worry that some people think that sort of play is the mark of a coward?’

  Dirk gave Jim such a cold glare the vampire shivered. ‘Those people are welcome to join me on the field to see who’s scared of who.’

  ‘Part of the reason you’ve decided to take such a hands-off stance is that you were recently promoted to coach as well, right?’ Bob said.

  Dirk broke off from staring at the vampire so he could answer the ogre’s question. ‘That’s right, Bob. Captain Haken decided that he was done with day-to-day coaching and kicked himself upstairs.’

  ‘He’d been handing over a lot of those responsibilities to legendary player Rhett Cavre over the past couple seasons anyhow, right?’ said Jim.

  Dirk nodded. ‘Rhett and I are now co-coaches for the team.’

  ‘Given how Coach Haken ruled over the team with a steel hook, that seems like an arrangement bristling with trouble.’

  Dirk didn’t respond. After a moment of dead air, Bob pitched in with a new question. ‘Let’s conjure up some images from the team’s heyday. Who can forget what happened to your brother Dunk Hoffnung after he scored his first touchdown!’

  The image on the screen morphed to show a dark-haired, hard-nosed athlete in a yellow-and-green Bad Bay Hackers uniform. He was standing in the middle of an astrogranite field at the height of a Blood Bowl match.

  ‘The Hackers were playing against the Reikland Reavers. That was your team back then, right, Dirk?’

  ‘That’s right, Bob,’ Dirk said. ‘And to welcome my big brother to the big leagues, I trampled him flat.’

  The image on the crystal ball cut to show a younger Dirk planting a spiked boot square in Dunk’s chest as he knocked him to the ground. After Dirk charged past him, Dunk got up, and rather than going after his brother for some well-deserved revenge, he sprinted in the opposite direction.

  Right towards the end zone.

  ‘Of course, that was all part of Coach Haken’s plan!’ Jim said.

  Dunk dashed past the Reavers’ defenders and made it into the end zone just in time to see the football the Hackers’ thrower had lobbed into the air there. He reached out and caught it, scoring his first touchdown.

  ‘Not too many rookies manage to score their first touchdown in their first minute of play!’ Bob said.

  Dunk didn’t even have time to celebrate, though, before one of the Reavers’ players smashed into him from behind and knocked him into the stands.

  ‘That hit still makes me cringe for him,’ Dirk said, without an ounce of honest regret.

  ‘And that was Spinne Schönheit who hit him, wasn’t it?’ said Bob.

  ‘That’s right!’ said Jim. ‘The same woman who la
ter joined the Hackers along with Dirk here – and who is now married to Dunk!’

  ‘I don’t know if I could date someone who hit me like that,’ Bob said. ‘I mean, my wife knocks me around a lot harder!’

  The image showed the fans in the end zone grabbing Dunk and body-passing him toward the top of the stadium. He struggled against them, but as strong as he was, there were far too many of them. The entire crowd began chanting at them, shouting, ‘Over! Over! Over!’

  Dunk tried to grab on to something – anything – but couldn’t find a grip. As he reached the top of the stadium, he screamed in terror and then disappeared over the edge.

  ‘The ref called a penalty on the play, of course,’ Dirk said as the image cut back to him and the announcers. ‘They flagged Dunk for “excessive celebration” for jumping out of the stadium like that!’

  ‘How did Dunk survive that fall?’ Bob asked. ‘That’s gotta be a five-story drop!’

  ‘He hit a series of awnings all the way down,’ Dirk said. ‘That – along with the rat-on-a-stick cart he smashed into at the end – broke his fall. Of course, then the rat vendor beat him senseless for destroying his cart!’

  ‘And he actually went on to marry Schönheit after that?’ Jim asked.

  ‘Let’s just say it was a long engagement,’ Dirk said with a chuckle. ‘I think they’d both still be playing for the Hackers if Spinne hadn’t gotten pregnant. And they have another on the way!’

  ‘You heard it here first, folks!’ Bob said.

  ‘We hear they’ve holed up at an “undisclosed location”,’ Jim said to Dirk. ‘Care to expose another family secret while you’re at it?’

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be the reporter here?’ Dirk flashed a vicious smile. ‘All I can tell you without fear of repercussions is that they’re living in a wonderful grove tended by Edgar.’

  ‘The treeman the Hackers picked up on a tour through Albion?’ Bob said. ‘He disappeared years ago! Something about a reproduction ritual that was supposed to take a full month?’

  Dirk shrugged. ‘Apparently the ritual took, and Edgar wound up with a little bundle of saplings all of his own. He’s promised to return to the game once his wee ones are grown – but do you know how long it takes for treemen to mature?’

  ‘How about M’Grash K’Thragsh?’ Jim said. ‘The ogre was a legendary player for the Hackers, but he left the team the year after Dunk and Spinne!’

  ‘Once Dirkie came along–’

  ‘Wait!’ Jim said, shocked. ‘Dirkie?’

  Dirk flushed red. ‘Dunk and Spinne named their little boy after me…’ The menace in his voice dared anyone to interrupt him. No one did.

  ‘Once Dirkie came along, M’Grash retired to become his full-time bodyguard.’

  ‘The boy has an ogre for a bodyguard?’ Bob chortled. ‘Not even my kids get that!’

  ‘He’s more like a babysitter,’ Dirk explained, ‘but no one’s had the guts to call him that.’

  ‘Do you think there’s any chance the boy will play Blood Bowl?’ Jim asked. ‘After all, he’s got an amazing pedigree!’

  Dirk gave the vampire a sad shake of his head. ‘Dunk lost of a bit of his passion for the game after we won our first championship. He’s told me he doesn’t want his son to have to kill-or-be-killed for a living.’

  ‘And how does Spinne feel about that?’ asked Bob.

  Dirk chuckled. ‘When I gave the boy a plush ball with rubber spikes, she put it into his crib.’

  ‘Dunk didn’t throw it away?’

  ‘M’Grash wouldn’t let him.’ Dirk grinned. ‘He says the little guy uses those spikes as a teether!’

  ‘I still get some shivers myself from that first Hackers’ championship,’ Bob said.

  ‘Maybe little Dirkie can give you his stuffed football to keep you company at night!’ Jim said.

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ Dirk said to Bob. ‘After all it’s not every day the entire stadium you’re playing in gets transported to the Realm of Chaos so you can play Blood Bowl for the fate of the entire empire!’

  ‘Let’s roll some footage of that!’ Jim said.

  The image on the crystal ball cut over to that championship game, pitting the Bad Bay Hackers against the Chaos All-Stars. The classic Hackers – Dunk, Dirk, Spinne, M’Grash, Edgar, Cavre, and so on – stood there on the astrogranite, facing off against a range of Chaos-twisted horrors. They included a motley assortment of beastmen, plus the tentacle-faced Kathula, the slime-covered troll Ichorbod, and their team captain, the triple-headed, dog-headed Serby “Dawgy-Dawg-Dawg” Triomphe.

  ‘This game seemed to be a collection of everyone you and Dunk had pissed off throughout your careers!’ Jim said.

  ‘Mostly that fell to Dunk,’ Dirk said. ‘He’s the one who got Skragger killed. And beheaded. And his head shrunken down to smaller than your fist. But, you know, it wasn’t Dunk who turned that damn orc into a vampire somewhere along the way!’

  ‘But did anyone see it coming that Skragger would wind up in cahoots with Zauberer, the All-Star’s team wizard?’

  ‘Well, it sure wasn’t Triomphe!’ Bob said as the image shifted to the three-headed dogman chasing Dunk down the field. An instant later, a bolt of lightning appeared from the sky and speared straight through the All-Star. ‘How the Hackers lucked out with that strike, I’ll never know!’

  Jim slapped the ogre on the back of the head. ‘It was all part of a plot to – never mind!’ he growled. ‘We were both there!’

  ‘Right!’ Bob said brightly. ‘It was Zauberer who used the Chaos Cup to have us all sucked into the Realm of Chaos! What an arse!’

  ‘He also had Skragger’s tiny skull mounted on top of Ichorbod’s decapitated corpse! That’s some kind of heads-up magic for you!’

  In the image, the sky grew dark, and the image of the Blood God Khorne towered over the field for a moment. The clouds roiling overhead crackled with crimson lightning. The sound of a million screams filled the air.

  ‘Gotta like that game intro though!’ Bob said. ‘I mean, for a game produced by the forces of Chaos, they really had it together! I can’t wait to see how it turned out!’

  ‘How many head blows have you taken today?’ Jim said. ‘We all survived – well, most of us anyway – and the Hackers won!’ The vampire gestured at Dirk as if his presence should provide plenty of proof.

  ‘Praise Nuffle! But hey, spoiler alert!’ Bob frowned at Jim. ‘I haven’t finished re-watching that game on my Debtflix account!’

  Jim flashed the ogre a fang-filled grin. ‘Be sure to let me know how it turns out!’

  ‘We worked with Lästiges Weibchen on that game!’ Bob said. ‘She was the best sidelines reporter in all of Cabalvision! Whatever happened to her?’

  ‘We got her fired last year!’ Jim said. ‘After all, we can’t afford to have someone that good on the Cabalvision broadcast team! Think about our job security!’

  ‘Ah, right!’ said Bob. ‘I still miss her though. Every time I throw anything at her! She’s a nimble lady!’

  ‘Actually, Dirk here used to date her, remember?’

  Bob snorted. ‘Remember? Wasn’t that how we got her fired? For dating a player? Some kind of “interest in conflict,” or something like that.’

  ‘I’m still amazed that worked!’ Jim said. ‘After all, I’ve been dating the cheerleaders for the Champions of the Dead for decades, and that’s never gotten me fired!’

  ‘You call that dating when they keep beating you up like that? That’s more like all “conflict” and no “interest!”’

  ‘It’s pretty much impossible to get you two fired,’ Dirk said with a grimace that would have looked foreboding on an undertaker. ‘You have too much dirt on that scumbag Nuffle Commissioner Good-el.’

  ‘That not fair!’ Jim said. ‘We worked hard to dig up all that dirt!’


  ‘And, hey!’ Bob said. ‘Commissioner Good-el’s been busy trying to cover up the long-term effects on Blood Bowl players sustaining countless concussions during the course of their careers. Do you know how hard it was for the wizards to figure that out in the first place? There aren’t that many players that survive long enough to worry about it!’

  ‘Bob! Are you insane? You can’t just go flapping your gums about that kind of stuff in public!’

  The ogre clapped a meaty hand over his own mouth for a moment. ‘By Nuffle’s hairy balls!’ he said a moment later. ‘You’re right! Just imagine if I’d said that on the air!’

  Jim gave the camra a deadpan stare. Then he turned back to Bob. ‘Do you realise what a “special live edition” of this show means?’

  ‘Sure!’ Bob said with a toothy smile. ‘It’s special because we’re still alive!’

  Jim put his head in his hands and groaned.

  ‘Hey, Dirk!’ Bob said, unfazed. ‘Let’s get back to the subject. Whatever happened to Lästiges Weibchen?’

  Dirk pointed off-camra. ‘She’s in the studio with us. Right over there. You threw a goblin at her just before we started this interview.’

  ‘I know!’ Bob said. ‘I really do miss her. Every. Damn. Time!’

  ‘So,’ Jim said. ‘Dirk! You’ve brought us up to date on most of the players on that double-championship Hackers team! But you’ve left one very important player out! What does the future hold for you?’

  ‘I’m glad you asked, Jim,’ Dirk said. ‘As you know, not too many Blood Bowl players ever actually make it to retirement. It’s not a forgiving sport.’

  ‘So you’re just going to keep playing until they either carry you out on a stretcher or sweep up your ashes into an urn?’ asked Bob.

  Dirk shook his head. ‘I’ve made plenty of money. I’ve set enough records. Won enough games. I don’t have anything left to prove.’

  ‘Then what next?’ asked Jim. ‘We’d love for you to announce your plans here, live, on Cabalvision!’

  ‘Well, there are really only two decent jobs for any self-respecting Blood Bowl player to take after their career winds down. You can be a coach – which I already am, co-coaching the Hackers right now.’