Fort Constantine

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

They've been traveling for what feels like hours in the darkness, relying more on Fawkes' low-light vision than Ellen's helmet light to find their way. A moving light in the darkness only invites investigation from those least wanted, after all. The stream that ran past Raven Rock was a breeding ground for mirelurks, several of which chased them a considerable distance before finally being felled. Ellen insisted on digging a firepit and preparing at least a little of the meat after that. She'd seen Cross' haggard look and knew all too well how hungry the older woman must be after the events of the past... however many hours. Fawkes declined, saying he'd already eaten. In the end, there was enough.

They're moving again now, the fire dead and buried, and making their way up a hill that probably offers a commanding view of the Wasteland in daylight. For now the only view of any sort that it offers is of great black bulk against the skies: buildings, unused, or at least unlit. "I don't suggest we go in," Ellen murmurs, "but this might be a good place to wait for morning."

Fawkes nods. "It seems defensible," the meta-human says. "At least, in theory. We should be mindful."

"Of course." Ellen glances at Cross. "What do you think?"

"I think," said Cross, "that I hear something mechanical moving nearby."

Ellen goes silent and crouches down immediately behind the wreck of a gutted Corvega, presenting the smallest profile she can. The others join her. None too soon, either. The chittering clatter of treads heralds a robobrain slipping out from behind one of the smaller buildings, on its way towards one of the larger. Before anyone can say anything, plasma fire lashes out from further along the slope, missing the robot by inches.

The return volley, of plasma and lasers and bullets alike, lights up a cluster of armored Enclave foot soldiers who give the impression of being very much taken aback by the counter-fire. As the squad starts shooting in earnest Fawkes observes, “They seem disheartened.”

“I’d be too, under the circumstances,” says Cross. “Lost their headquarters and their leadership, and now it’s six of them versus quite a security system.”

No one speaks for a while, allowing the battle to rage without them.

“And yet they persist,” says Fawkes. “It makes me wonder what this place must hold, if they’re willing to risk themselves this way.”

“Must be an armory,” Ellen says. “They probably didn’t grab as much as they should’ve on the way out of Raven Rock and they must need to replenish their stock.”

“Them or someone they report to,” Cross agrees. “Ellen… the Enclave has the purifier, and the GECK. If they haven’t started it already-“

“They haven’t. They need a code word.”

“Then it’s only a matter of time until they guess it,” Cross says. “Whatever they’re willing to risk themselves to get here can only fortify their position at the purifier. We can’t let them have it.”

Ellen winces, looking over the three of them and calculating their ammunition supply. After a moment she says, “I need to find a door, I think…”

“Do so. And quickly. I’ll explain to Fawkes, but we can’t afford to wait for a large group to assemble.”

Comments

[justcallmefee]

Fiona was in a foul mood again, and on her way to work out a few issues down at the firing range. Hence the boots and the hat, and the thick dark shades.

Also, hence the harsh tone of her voice when Ellen just about runs her over.

"Hey! Walking here, metal man."

She doesn't recognise Ellen in the power suit.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Sorry! Sorry," says Ellen, her voice muffled and staticky through the helmet filters. Then she stops. ".... Fiona?"

[justcallmefee]

Fiona comes up short, her brow furrowed.

"Ellen? Dear sweet baby jesus, where did you find this getup? Can you even breathe in there?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Oh, sure. Filters." Ellen taps the helmet's mask with one armored finger. "It's as good as a gas mask. I've had to test it a few times. I found the suit in- well, you wouldn't know Olney..."

[justcallmefee]

Fiona has dropped her bag, and is now crawling over the suit, marking the places where it's sustained heavy damage, crooning appreciatively under her breath.

Her fingers come down to Ellen's arm and the shattered Pip-Boy.

"Fuck, I thought that thing was indestructible. Are you going to be able to fix it?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I don't know," Ellen admits. "I fell down a good portion of some kind of mountain or something, I was trying to hold on to a suit of combat armor and a supersledge, and it must've taken a lot of the hits on the way down. I don't even know who you talk to about fixing something like that. I'm probably just going to need to replace it with a piece of actual armor the next time we take down someone from the Enclave..."

[justcallmefee]

She's peering at the little computer.

"It looks like just the screen is cracked. If we can get it off and look at the drives, it may be an easy fix."

She looks up into the face mask.

"Does that thing come off or am I going to have to call you Darth Ellen?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"It comes off, but I don't really have much time here right now," Ellen says. "We're kind of in the middle of something messy back home and I came here to see if I could grab someone to help out with a fight. It's night and there's robots and plasma weapons and guys in power armor involved and there's only three of us versus like six guys and a lot of robots."

[justcallmefee]

Fiona sits back, her weight on one hip, smirking like she's trying to decide.

Her eyes fall back to the bag of weapons on the ground beside her boots.

"Sweet talker. What are you waiting for?"

She bends and hefts the rucksack, slipping both arms through the straps. She's tiny, but there's a real world strength in that lean frame.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Did you want any plasma grenades?" Ellen says, indicating the green-glowing cylinders on her belt. "I can give you some once you see them in action." But, that being said, she opens the door again into darkness.

It smells dusty here, as if it might have been an unpleasant place once but that was long ago. The door has deposited both women into a building interior. Ellen touches the side of her helmet, setting off a built-in lamp; its glow falls on a robot easily as tall as a man. Its body is a green metallic cylinder, its arms snakelike things with claws, and at the top in a glass dome-

"Brain bot," Ellen says. "I killed it on my way to the Bar. Won't harm anyone now. The fighting starts out front of this building."

[justcallmefee]

Fiona has seen a lot in her time in the field. She has never seen anything like that. Her eyes go wide and her jaw hangs open.

"Holy mother of..."

But Ellen is clanking passed it.

"Um. Yeah, plasma grenades." She swallows hard, the adrenaline already starting to flow. "Don't suppose you have some of that kevlar body plate with you?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"There's a suit in the cabinet over there," Ellen says, turning her light towards the far wall. "I checked every door in this house before I found one that worked. I think this used to be a base commander's private quarters. That thing must've been his personal guard. The armor might be a little big for you but it's better than nothing."

[justcallmefee]

Fiona follows the beam and nods, dropping her sack to the floor and approaching the set of lockers. Everything in here smells stale. Like tomb stale.

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust outside the beam of Ellen's helmet light, but in her line of work, getting dressed in the dark is a survival skill. She makes quick work of it, tucking and binding in a quick bit of alteration. It is big, but she makes do.

That accomplished, she rummages through her bag for her favourite shotgun and loads up her pockets with ammo.

"How many men did you say? And you said three of us? Who's the third?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Six men in power armor," Ellen says. "They're on a ridge to the left. Robots and automated turrets on a building about thirty yards to the right once we're out the door. Most of the robots use lasers; some of them fire plasma weapons. The robots and the turrets don't approve of us, but they don't approve of the men, either. They'll fire on anything that isn't part of their equipment set. Star Paladin Cross is out there, with a plasma pistol and a sledge for close-in work. Our third is Fawkes. He's nine feet tall, green, and carries a Gatling laser. You can't miss him."

[justcallmefee]

Check - hostiles in power armour.

Check - bots and automated turrets.

Check - Star Paladin Cross.

Ch.... Wait what?

"Nine foot tall and green? Who the hell have you fallen in with? Nevermind, I assume it's a long story, and now you can't die, because I want to hear how it ends."

She's shucking rounds into the shotgun's magazine as she talks.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"He's a mutant. He'd rather be called a meta-human. I'll explain later," Ellen says. "Let me know when you're ready. I've got heavier armor, so I'll go out first."

[justcallmefee]

"Wait, before we go. Can you get me some place high?"

She pats the bag.

"Not that I don't love a street brawl, mind you, but if there are as many 'bots as you say there are, it might be quicker and easier to take them out from a distance."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen has to think for a moment. Eventually she says, "Back door. I can get you on the roof of this house. That's as high up as I can get you. The building across the way is three or four stories tall but we'd have to get in to get you up in it, and I don't know what the interior defenses are like."

[justcallmefee]

Fiona smirks, nods. "Let's do it."

She lets Ellen take point, slinging the shotgun in its tactical sling and making sure the .45 at her waist is locked and ready. It takes her a moment to figure out how to holster it in the combat armour, but she figures it out.

In her head, she's counting the number of rounds she has left from target practice. She thinks it'll be enough, depending on how hard the targets are.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The commander's house was built practically up against the side of a hill. There's just barely enough room out the back door to let a couple of menfolk gather and smoke cigars while the women did whatever it is they do at social events.

... oh, don't give us that look, you know that's what the builders were thinking.

At any rate Ellen cracks the back door open, peers around swiftly, shoves herself the rest of the way through, and finally relaxes. Only then does she gesture to Fiona to come over. "There's some metal drums," she says, her words punctuated by laser fire overhead. "We can get you up to the roof climbing on those, or I can get you on my shoulders. Your choice."

Something nearby, probably on the other side of the house, is snarling in an electronic-sounding rendition of a drill sergeant's voice.

[justcallmefee]

Fiona's already in motion, using the drums to get a head start, and then just scaling the face of the house. It takes work, but there are plenty of hand holds. "Man, we need a climbing wall at Milliways. I'm out of practice."

The laser fire is a new one on her. Harder to triangulate where the shots are coming from. And that metallic voice is just annoying. But she keeps low, angling for the bank where the two angled surfaces come together. The ruck is hooked over a vent pipe, and it takes her just a few moments to pull out the folding stock rifle and fit the sights.

She rolls to one hip, glancing down at Ellen and giving her a thumbs up.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen returns the gesture, scrambling to get around to the side of the house that faces the ongoing combat. Cross and Fawkes are doing a good job of lighting up the night, Cross with her pistol's green and Fawkes with the Gatling laser's blazing red, but they're mostly holding off robots. Somebody's got to keep the Enclave on their toes.

Oh, and one more thing, Fiona. That voice you were hearing before? It's gone for a moment, replaced by the roar of thruster jets firing at maximum capacity. All the better to raise a three-armed, three-opticked matt dark metal monstrosity to nearly level with the roof.

"Today is a good day for someone else to die!" the Mr. Gutsy announces from the edge of the roof.

[justcallmefee]

The best thing about a tactical shotgun is that shoulder strap. It lets Fiona put down the almost assembled rifle and pivot her weight, unslinging the shotgun with a long practised motion.

Today? She is not that someone else.

She doesn't even bother bringing the scattergun to her shoulder, just fires from the hip, letting the strap catch the recoil. At this range, aiming precisely isn't required. Just the rate of fire.

She unloads three rounds into the tin can's optics as fast as she can fire.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

And it does an excellent job, too. The robot's central mass is heavily armored, but the optical tracking system which pokes out above, not so much. As glass shatters and circuit boards are torn apart the blinded bot's three arms suddenly swing in a circle about itself.

"I love the smell of napalm in the morning," it announces, just before turning on the flamethrower. It doesn't really need to aim to use that.

[justcallmefee]

"Jesusmaryjoseph," Fiona hisses, getting off two more rounds before having to slide below the peak of the roof. She scrabbles in a pocket and loads three more rounds, this time going straight for the slugs.

When she hears the roars cutoff, she pops back out and this time she takes careful aim, again at the brain of this thing.

"Smells like victory, does it?"