Jefferson Memorial
May. 5th, 2010 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaaaaaaagh_skyThe Jefferson Memorial, Ellen remembered from Mr. Mills' world, had been open to the elements once. She was pretty-
"HURRY UP AND DIE! I'M HUNGRY!" roared the mutant behind her as it opened fire with its assault rifle. She dove for the floor in a clatter of armor and came up with her shotgun ready, blazing away at the first green she saw.
-anyway, she was pretty sure that they'd changed the design here back in the 2030s or 2040s or so, renovating and rejuvenating the place for the building's hundredth anniversary-
A horrific scream rent the air, louder even than the shotgun. The mutant toppled to the corridor's tiled floor as any creature would with its knees effectively destroyed. Ellen flinched; the thing was pushing itself up, scrabbling for gun or pipe or any kind of weapon within reach. She kicked the dropped assault rifle away and aimed for the mutant's face.
-because, according to Mr. Brotch, a century of environmental exposure had been harder on the Jefferson Memorial's interior than any other building in Washington for unknown reasons. Hence the interior wall that enclosed the rotunda, and the massively secure sunken complex beneath the building itself. True, it-
There, it was dead. At least it had better be dead. Even mutants only had one brain. She had her suspicions about the centaurs, but those were such abominations that she tended to shoot at them until you could see sunlight through their torsos. They'd bleed to death if nothing else. At least, all the centaurs she'd encountered so far had, and by the dragging and slapping noises she could hear up ahead there was at least one more on the way to add to the data set. She just needed to reload first.
The reconstruction had deprived the Memorial of some of its original accessibility to the public, which Jefferson himself might have disliked. On the other hand, it had lasted significantly longer and come out in better condition than any of the other-
"Time to kick some ass!" Ellen's armor roared as the sickening plap! of centaur spittle reached her ears. She sucked a breath through clenched teeth and fired. Where the hell was Dogmeat? She'd lost track of him somewhere in the chaos. Hopefully he was savaging centaurs instead of things with guns. She'd look for him as soon as this thing was well and truly dead.
-monuments in the DC area. Ben Franklin might not have approved of trading a little liberty for security, but it had sure saved the building. And, centuries later, made Project Purity possible. The central tank apparatus would have been-
She staggered, only barely catching herself in time. The centaur had managed to wrap one of those vile, yard-long tongues around her leg and almost yanked it out from under her. Well, it wouldn't be doing that any more. To anyone. Ever. One good bludgeon with the butt of the shotgun got it to let go, and then two gunshots set up such an echo in the narrow corridor that it was a wonder the thing's head didn't implode from the sound alone.
-completely vulnerable to any sort of external long-range attack, like a sniper or a laser strike or even a grenadier with an exceptionally good arm. So really, the renovation had been for the best, all things considered. Even if it did make getting the place emptied and getting out alive the kind of challenge that would live in nightmares for months to come.
Ellen toed the remains of the centaur with one armored boot and went to look for her dog. Unless she really missed her guess, that was the last horror left in the place, and she kind of wanted Dogmeat to be with her when the adrenaline went away and the absolute, utter freak-out began.
"HURRY UP AND DIE! I'M HUNGRY!" roared the mutant behind her as it opened fire with its assault rifle. She dove for the floor in a clatter of armor and came up with her shotgun ready, blazing away at the first green she saw.
-anyway, she was pretty sure that they'd changed the design here back in the 2030s or 2040s or so, renovating and rejuvenating the place for the building's hundredth anniversary-
A horrific scream rent the air, louder even than the shotgun. The mutant toppled to the corridor's tiled floor as any creature would with its knees effectively destroyed. Ellen flinched; the thing was pushing itself up, scrabbling for gun or pipe or any kind of weapon within reach. She kicked the dropped assault rifle away and aimed for the mutant's face.
-because, according to Mr. Brotch, a century of environmental exposure had been harder on the Jefferson Memorial's interior than any other building in Washington for unknown reasons. Hence the interior wall that enclosed the rotunda, and the massively secure sunken complex beneath the building itself. True, it-
There, it was dead. At least it had better be dead. Even mutants only had one brain. She had her suspicions about the centaurs, but those were such abominations that she tended to shoot at them until you could see sunlight through their torsos. They'd bleed to death if nothing else. At least, all the centaurs she'd encountered so far had, and by the dragging and slapping noises she could hear up ahead there was at least one more on the way to add to the data set. She just needed to reload first.
The reconstruction had deprived the Memorial of some of its original accessibility to the public, which Jefferson himself might have disliked. On the other hand, it had lasted significantly longer and come out in better condition than any of the other-
"Time to kick some ass!" Ellen's armor roared as the sickening plap! of centaur spittle reached her ears. She sucked a breath through clenched teeth and fired. Where the hell was Dogmeat? She'd lost track of him somewhere in the chaos. Hopefully he was savaging centaurs instead of things with guns. She'd look for him as soon as this thing was well and truly dead.
-monuments in the DC area. Ben Franklin might not have approved of trading a little liberty for security, but it had sure saved the building. And, centuries later, made Project Purity possible. The central tank apparatus would have been-
She staggered, only barely catching herself in time. The centaur had managed to wrap one of those vile, yard-long tongues around her leg and almost yanked it out from under her. Well, it wouldn't be doing that any more. To anyone. Ever. One good bludgeon with the butt of the shotgun got it to let go, and then two gunshots set up such an echo in the narrow corridor that it was a wonder the thing's head didn't implode from the sound alone.
-completely vulnerable to any sort of external long-range attack, like a sniper or a laser strike or even a grenadier with an exceptionally good arm. So really, the renovation had been for the best, all things considered. Even if it did make getting the place emptied and getting out alive the kind of challenge that would live in nightmares for months to come.
Ellen toed the remains of the centaur with one armored boot and went to look for her dog. Unless she really missed her guess, that was the last horror left in the place, and she kind of wanted Dogmeat to be with her when the adrenaline went away and the absolute, utter freak-out began.