Ellen Park, the Lone Wanderer

"Great Hera," Diana says quietly, reaching out to rest her hand ever-so-briefly against a crumbling bit of masonry.

Some things never change, and the ravages of total devastation are among them. But a brief moment of sorrow, of connection, is all that they have time for. Diana turns to look at Ellen.

"How likely is that?"

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"Probably not that likely. Most of them were concentrating on everything happening at the Capitol end of the Mall," Ellen admits. "On any other day they'd be in and out of here, but..."

Well, on any other day Ellen wouldn't've gone to Milliways to find help. On any other day the Rangers' escape tunnel back to Seward Square wouldn't've collapsed and left no choice but to try and push through the Capitol somehow.

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Finn doesn't have the context to appreciate the level of devastation, but he does briefly look at Diana with a quick shred of concern.

He glances back to Ellen, curious. She's the one who knows where everything is right now, and he doesn't actually have anything to add to the conversation (though he does have a new sword for this trip that he's pretty happy with).

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"The outer door's not far," Ellen says. "We're on the northeastern side of the Mall. It's all one huge fortified trench system, like I mentioned back in Milliways. Cross will signal us if she sees any danger- we should be able to get down the stairs otherwise and start heading in the right direction."

She rubs at the back of her neck with one hand briefly.

"I'm ready when you are, so..."

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"I'm ready," Finn pipes up, amused. "I'll be splitting off from you guys pretty soon, though," he reminds them; he doesn't really fight in groups. Even when maybe he really ought to.

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Ellen nods. "We'll keep an eye out for you anyway," she promises. She's a lot more accepting of Milliwaysers' claims of being able to fight alone ever since she met John-117. "Let's go, then."

The door opens onto the shadows of Greek Revival architecture; this is, after all, the National Archives building, and the front face is all pillars and broad marble steps. That may very well be what's kept it recognizable all this time. The buildings that were merely concrete and brick, scattered all around the area, have long since started to come apart under the assaults of time and combat. The ones sheathed in stone are... well, not whole, but certainly more viable despite what happened here so long ago. In the distance, the sound of gunfire can be heard, as can the sound of other, more exotic weapons.

There are, however, more immediate concerns. The most notable is the tall, armored figure who steps out of the shadows, the butt of some hefty melee weapon visible over one pauldroned shoulder, the squared-off outline of a laser rifle in its hands. "No sign of mutants coming this way," it says, its voice muffled and filtered by the helmet, but definitely female. "I take it these are the allies you spoke of?"

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"Star Paladin Cross," Diana says, not bothering to make it a question. There is no sign in her expression that anything about this hearkens back to Paradise Island after the OMACs were through with it.

"Is there anything else we need to know before we begin?"

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"The mutants haven't noticed us primarily because of the Enclave," Cross says. "I counted four or five Enclave in power armor still standing. The others may have gotten into the building already. They have a Vertibird on the ground. More importantly, they brought a Deathclaw with them. It's obeying their officers' orders."

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Finn glances up at Cross in quick acknowledgement, listening to her as he peers--peers is the right word; the look is not so much assessing as curious--at the area spread below them.

(The sounds aren't any of them foreign to him, so he doesn't take time to classify what they might be.)

There are some turrets on the ground, above the trenches, with large mutants manning them. He glances back to Cross. "What's going on down there?"

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"Mutants holding the line," says Cross. "The Mall's their territory, as far as they're concerned. For every mutant you see out there, there's at least another three in the trenches, just waiting for the first sign of someone foolish enough to think they're safe."

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Finn grins.

"Do you guys need me for anything?" he asks, glancing back at Ellen and Diana, "Or should I go check it out?"

He doesn't seem to notice it, but his foot is tapping with excited energy.

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"Don't let us keep you," Diana says mildly.

"But don't be so eager that you forget yourself, either."

It is a caution that most warriors need at one time or another.

It is not even limited to the very young.

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There's a flash of amusement at that, but he nods his head slightly in acknowledgement to Diana.

It's good advice!

He glances to the others.

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Cross inclines her head in Ellen's direction, murmuring something too low to hear. Ellen glances up at the Mall, then back to Cross. "We could use another set of eyes," she says, and then turns to Finn. "Go ahead. Be careful- it's nasty down there. We'll rendezvous when it's all over..."

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"Up here?" he asks, and at the confirmation continues: "I'll be here when it's done."

If they notice--if they're looking, and they're busy so why should they?--as he heads down and to the right, his stride starts shifting from that of a confident but lanky teenager to something smoother and not necessarily constrained by his current musculature. He's surprisingly good at skiving past the bullets of the guards, though there are a few close calls.

(If he starts laughing about when his awesome new sword bursts into flames, well... it's awesome. And he's just about out of hearing distance, anyways.)

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Ellen watches him go, but only for a moment. Then she squares her shoulders and turns east, towards the gouged-out, half-domed remains of the Capitol Building. The steps are visible from here, with figures scrambling every which way, some dark-armored, some huge and green. Now and then a flash of something pinkish-tan can be seen, lunging among the others, spewing blood everywhere it goes. Off to the left side of the steps squats a silver-grey beast of an aircraft with the rotors of its engines stilled and pointing upward.

"The Enclave's the armored ones," Ellen murmurs. "I don't know why they're here, but I can guess."

"If there's anywhere other than Vault-Tec headquarters that would have the location of a GECK still hidden away somewhere," Cross adds, "it'd be here. And if they find that, the Wasteland is almost certainly doomed."

Ellen swallows and unslings the bulky, tube-girdled rifle from her back; the barrel begins to glow green.

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"So preventing this Enclave from obtaining any significant technology is imperative. So noted."

Her eyes narrow faintly, lips pressed together as she studies what she can see if the terrain.

"Are any of them likely to expect an aerial attack?"

It will leave her quickly outnumbered, but as a distraction to allow Ellen and the Star Paladin to obtain better positioning may make it worthwhile. Eventually.

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"No." That's both Ellen and Cross at once; they look at each other a moment, and then Cross speaks. "No, they won't. The Enclave are in possession of the only known aircraft in the region."

Her tone is only fractionally skeptical. One learns quickly in the Wastes not to assume anything about strangers.

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"Hmm. They shouldn't see me coming, then."

Not literally, however. Her costume is just a little to bright to be missed, especially in these surroundings.

Good thing she's fast.

"Are we ready?"

Surprise, such as it is, only works as a tactic if the rest of your side is capitalizing on it.

And this is not Diana's show.

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"Ready," Cross says, her laser rifle in her hands. Ellen glances at the ongoing battle scene, squares her shoulders, and nods.

"Ready," she says. "We'll get to work on the mutants. Let's move out."

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"Done," Diana says.

Then she launches skyward, a blur of bright red-and-blue rising briefly before diving down toward the first of the Enclave soldiers, skimming a few dozen yards over their heads before turning back and dropping toward the earth.

Her landing is light, with no tremor to herald her arrival.

But that first punch?

That one is going to be felt.

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It is generally accepted that getting distracted in the middle of combat is a sure ticket to a swift death.

That may make things somewhat easier for Ellen and Cross. The Enclave soldiers are distracted. The mutants? Even more so. Things like this just don't happen, not ever. Neither the flying, nor the color, nor the-

Oh, yeah, there's the howling of mutants who've just discovered that Ellen has fallen back to her old favorite tactic: Knees Are A Privilege. Should've been paying more attention, greenskins.

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There is a moment or two where all that can be seen of Diana is a blur of fists and feet before a second Enclave soldier goes flying -- over-the-shoulder throws with super-strength (even such strength held in check) give a little more air time than most.

And then, of course, the Enclave have had time to regroup. Diana dodges left and low under the first plasma bolt, sweeping out the feet of an incoming opponent. She regains her feet, halfway to being in the direct line of fire of another shot. Good thing she's got her bracelets.

That bolt gets deflected at another of the Enclave fighters. Its lack of effect is not something Diana misses.

Hmm. Interesting.

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"For President Eden!" one of the men in armor shouts, falling back to what he hopes is a safe distance- only a very great fool stays too close to a melee fighter that's clearly superior, and while the Enclave have their failings, foolishness in matters of survival is not one of them. The others who are still standing are doing their best to get away from the woman in red and blue, save for one, who's bringing up what might be a handheld, combat-ready chainsaw. Some people just don't get the message.

And speaking of those who don't get the message...

"WE! ARE!" There's a burst of minigun fire and a flare of sparks and whang! noises as one of the mutants opens fire on Cross. "THE! FUTURE!"

Cross is holding her ground; that armor of hers is older than the Enclave stuff, and less smooth-lined, but it holds up very well indeed under fire. Her arms barely even move as she unleashes a barrage of red laser fire against the thundering mutant. "The Wasteland will forget you ever existed," she says coolly, waiting for her foe to fall before turning to fire on the two racing across the top of the steps.

And Ellen? Well. She's down on one knee, aiming first for the mutants' legs- she's gotten very, very good at slowing her enemies down this way- and then for their centers of mass. The plasma rifle's fire is as brilliant green as the oens the Enclave are using, and as slow, and she does not want to chance a headshot going wide when she can at least be nearly certain of a dead-on strike in the middle of the creatures' chests.

Their numbers are dropping rapidly. One of them exploded in a shower of green goo, in fact. And another in a burst of red. "Nice shooting!" calls Cross.

"That wasn't me!"

And Cross flattens herself against the nearest hunk of fallen masonry immediately as fifteen feet of Deathclaw leaps over the mutant corpses, claws wide.

Edited Date: 2010-07-10 08:03 pm (UTC)

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