aaaaaaaagh_sky | The Capitol Building

When the door from Milliways opens, it opens into a dim and dusty space that smells like still air and old smoke. Things burned here, once; things died here. The scorch marks on some of the walls bear that out, as do the fractures and chip-marks in the tiles of the floor. It takes some blinking and adjusting to the dimness to see the place more clearly than that. Once this was a lobby, wide and high-ceilinged, with a curved reception desk and brass lighting fixtures. There were computer terminals and framed art and all the other little signs of civilization. But that was two hundred years ago, and it shows. Only the places where marble and polished granite decorated the walls still look anywhere close to healthy. The ceiling sags, where it isn't cracked or broken. The lamp-works fell long ago, rusting or being stolen. The terminals are still there, but the metal's covered in corrosion, the screens shattered, and it's best not to think about the state of the keyboards.

"This was the National Archives entry area," Ellen says quietly. "I've been here before. It was the safest place I could find this close to the Capitol. Star Paladin Cross is outside just in case any of the mutants decide to crawl out of the Mall trenches and come investigate."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

themysciran_diana

Diana twists away from another swipe with the non-burning arm, darting behind the Behemoth and burying her fist at the base of its skull. Taking advantage of the subsequent moment of disorientation that such a strike produces, she darts back to the creature's face.

This time her blows are directed square at its eyes. And she's not pulling her punches at all.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

It shows. The Behemoth is old, maybe one of the oldest living things in the Wasteland, and every year of its life has been spent building up the might and muscle and bone necessary to see another one- but there has never been anything in the Wasteland like Diana, and nothing has prepared it to defend against such a foe. It would swipe at her with more force if it weren't so damnably hard for the monstrosity to keep its balance; between the incredible pain of that much force being delivered to that tiny any area, and the serious damage Cross's war hammer is doing to its leg, it's something of a miracle that it's staying upright at all. Its swings are wild and crazy and in all the wrong directions, and with only one arm- it hasn't really realized yet that the plasma barrage has rendered its right arm functionally useless...

It strikes out with one foot in Cross's direction and sways violently as it tries to right itself. "We have it on the ropes!" Cross calls out. "Press on!"

From:

themysciran_diana

"As you say, sister," Diana says. And she does, indeed, press on.

The mechanics of this involve a faster and faster series of strikes against the monster's face, intended to further disrupt its balance. But there is an increasingly limited utility to this approach, and Diana cannot fail to realize it.

Which means she changes her tactics from mere battering to something much more directed. The creature's neck is very thick, which makes a straight-up shot there next to useless, but perhaps if she can get a moment to close in --

If she can get the grip and the leverage so that when the beast falls she can use its own weight against it --

If all of that can be coordinated with Ellen and Cross's assault --

Maybe then the damn thing's neck can be broken.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"On me, Ellen!" Cross calls. "Take the leg out!"

The hammer flashes. The plasma flares.

Again.

Again.

On the third coordinated strike the monster's leg gives way. There could not be a finer time for Diana to make her move.

From:

themysciran_diana

Diana grabs onto the Behemoth's face, holding tight as it staggers. And once it starts to fall --

That's when her grip tightens, and she brings as much force to bear as she can, yanking the thing's head in the opposite direction to the body's fall. Gravity is a powerful tool when used correctly and here --

Here they do not have much better.

By Athena's grace, let this work.

The fallback plan is one less assured of success, especially considering how difficult to stave in the thing's skull has been thus far.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

CRACK.

WHAM.

And with a final spasm of nerves and muscles getting their very last message... it's over.

From:

themysciran_diana

Diana lands a few moments later, careful to keep the creature's body from crushing any of her companions -- or the remaining Enclave soldier.

"Are you all well?"

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"Well enough," says Cross, coming to her feet and easing her head from side to side a moment. "A few cracked ribs. Nothing some stimpaks and sitting still won't fix. Ellen?"

"I'm all right." Ellen edges out from behind her piece of cover, eyes on the fallen Behemoth. "I don't think it noticed me..."

She glances across the foul-smelling room to the spot where the Enclave soldier lies.

"... him, I'm not so sure about. We should- we should check."

From:

themysciran_diana

"So we should," Diana says, casting her own look at the fallen soldier. "If you're sure you're both all right."

She's only moving a little slowly as she approaches the armored man and crouches down.

"The Behemoth is down, soldier, though your companion is dead. Are you badly injured?"

Diana is performing her own visual survey, however. It can't hurt.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

Ellen silently hands a few stimpaks to Cross- and another needle as well. Cross considers the last one for a moment, then nods and accepts it. She gestures to Ellen to head towards the soldier; she can take care of herself.

He, however, is another story. At Diana's question, his chest heaves briefly, spasmodically; it's an attempt at laughing, one that turns into a labored hiss. "That's... one way to put it," he says, his voice only barely audible through the helmet's filters. "One way."

From:

themysciran_diana

Diana looks up at Ellen as she approaches, raising a questioning eyebrow.

But in response to the soldier --

"A stimpak won't help, then?"

Not even ten stimpaks, if she follows him correctly.

But still the question needs to be asked. Or so Diana believes.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"You'd just-" His head twitches; beneath the helmet, he's grimacing. "-be wasting it. Can't feel my legs."

"Stimpaks take time to work," Ellen murmurs. "They make the body heal faster. But they can't do miracles. Sir. Can you feel anything else?"

There's another rasping laugh from the soldier. "Can't." He pauses. "Can't breathe much. Like a knife. In the ribs."

"Punctured lung, probably," says Ellen; she learned to read from her father's medical texts, after all. She bites her lip a moment before saying, "Sir? Do you want Med-X?"

He's silent a long while, to the point where she's almost sure he's stopped breathing. Then, faintly:

"Make it stop hurting. Failing is bad enough."

From:

themysciran_diana

Diana stays silent, though she does rest her hand carefully on the fallen man's shoulder.

It is the very least she can do -- medicine has never been her particular gift.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

Ellen nods and starts undoing the nearest forearm piece of the man's armor. It doesn't take long. This is a different design of armor than what she's used to, but not that different. She winces a little as she draws it off; there's a lot of blood under there...

At least she finds the vein easily. And it takes effect very, very quickly. "Thank you," the man says. "That-"

It's the last he says.

From:

themysciran_diana

Diana lowers her head for a moment, commending the man's soul to whatever afterlife he might believe in. Then she stands up, scanning the room for whatever avenues of egress remain --

And also for the presence of anyone that might have been drawn by the commotion. (Provided, of course, there is anyone left to draw.)

"Shall we press on, or do these dead demand some method of burial?"

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"Let's get them laid straight," Ellen says a little hoarsely. "I need to give them a bit of prayer before we go. It won't take long."

It may be worth noting that once the dead are set- and no, there is no one left to come and see what's going on- she pauses over the Behemoth as well as over the Enclave dead. When it's over, she wipes her hand on her armor and looks up.

"I think we're done here. We should- we should keep going."

From:

themysciran_diana

"All right," Diana agrees.

She paid her own respects while Ellen was performing her own rites. For while Diana does not hesitate to bring death to those enemies that require it, she also doesn't have to like the necessity.

But in other circumstances, were they closer acquaintances -- Diana would commend Ellen for a job very well done.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

The building is big, and there are still mutants elsewhere as the trio travels through it. But there are no more Enclave to be found anywhere, and no sign of working computers or viable data archives, either. At one point they stumble across a room containing massive mainframe, but it's long since gone to pot, its bulbs burnt out and insects and rodents nesting in its innards. Whatever the Enclave might've been looking for here, they won't find it, whether or not they come back. Somewhere deep in the bowels of the House wing of the building Finn rejoins them, the flaming sword Ellen gave him quiet for once- well-used, very well used- but quiet- and they move on.

When they finally push their way into the daylight on the eastern steps Ellen lets out a lengthy sigh. "Almost there," she says. "I just need to make it to the Seward Square metro, and then we can continue on our way to Vault-Tec. It's not much farther..."

"If I can make a suggestion," says Cross. "I don't know about the two of you, but it's been some time since I last ate. Are there any reasonably securable locations in the vicinity? It looks quiet here."

"That's because the last time I passed through I was with Reilly and her Rangers," Ellen says, "and the mutants here were put down. Come to think of it...." She nods up towards a fallen bridge that once spanned several streets. "Their headquarters is a little past that bridge. Reilly said I could consider it a home away from home, if I was ever in this part of the ruins. Diana, do you mind if we head there for just a bit?"

From:

themysciran_diana

"I don't mind at all. It's only sensible to take advantage of an opportunity to regroup and refresh. Especially if the area is well-known to be clear."

She smiles faintly, looking up toward the bridge.

"Are there likely to be people in residence?"

And are they going to be inclined to shoot first and ask questions later? Diana's instincts say no, given what Ellen has said, but --

Well.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"I... probably not," Ellen admits. "The Rangers were-"

Deep breath.

"I hired the Rangers to come and guard my father's water purifier against raiders and mutants. They were there when the Enclave landed. The last I saw of them, they- they were telling us to run while we still could."

From:

themysciran_diana

"Ah."

Diana looks back at the girl.

"I am sorry, Ellen."

Being the one to live, the one to flee -- that is a hard, hard fate.

Harder than dying, in some ways. Especially for those who expect to fall in battle.

The living are the ones who remember.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

Ellen nods a little. "Thank you," she murmurs, and then a little louder: "We should be all right. Come on, it's not far."

She sets out along the left-hand edge of the street, studiously avoiding the open spaces and keeping as far from the wrecks of cars and trucks as she can. Just because the mutants were put down here recently doesn't mean there might not be something else lurking in the vicinity.

From:

themysciran_diana

Diana follows her gamely enough, keeping her own attention where Ellen's focus isn't.

It's harder with someone she does not know well, but long practice and their recent battle experience has her managing it effectively enough.

In some moments there is very little to say.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

It's not long before they come across a decrepit-looking alleyway with a pair of crossed swords painted over something resembling a crude four-leaf clover. "This way," Ellen says. "That's Reilly's emblem. It gets better further in, and it's not much farther, I promise."