Into the Pitt

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

There was a gate back there on the main road into the Pitt, and while it had a sensible lock and sensible razor wire, the lock was on the outside. A certain amount of diligent scouting uncovered why: about a quarter of a mile past the gate, there was a ruined building that housed a population of... well. The raiders who lived in Springdale School and hung the corpses of their victims from hooks as a lighthearted interior decorative touch would've taken one look at the people in that ruined building and gone 'oo, what nasty people'. And the boys wrecked on the island in Lord of the Flies would've backed away from the sight and taken a good long look at their lives and their choices, frankly.

Not that anyone wants to be locked into the same set of walls as people like that, but the building in question was on one bank of the Monongahela River, and the looming bulk of what had once been Pittsburgh and is now marked only with the sign 'Welcome To The Pitt' is on the other. The only way across is via a suspension bridge mostly blocked by the bulk of rusting, rotting pre-War cars, and guarded by multiple snipers up on each of the bridge's towers.

The Pitt is a city of slaves. If the slaves who try to escape somehow manage to make it past the snipers, that gate's there to make sure that not only do the slaves not get away, they're pinned in an almost ideal location for either the savages in that building to come and drag them away, or for their masters to come and pick them up without a fight.

That's why the lock is on the outside.

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

"Shit."

I-64, eat your heart out.

"...shit."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen just stares at the whole mess for a while. Eventually, in a faraway kind of voice, she says, "I really hope those things don't have intact power plants. It would get really ugly if they did."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo hops on to a stray pile of debris to get a better look at the Monongahela - maybe if they can swim across they can avoid the bottleneck...

...on second thought, no. That is one nasty-looking river.

"Shit."

He's said it before, and he'll say it again.

"We could shimmy along the side," he proposes. "Avoid the cars 'n whatever traps they've got." Raiders aren't smart, he's seen that much - but they do love their mines.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen looks down at the river and gulps. Then she looks at the cars, and thinks.

Eventually she says, "How, um... how hard do you think the shimmy option would be? I-"

Oh, God. This is probably the stupidest thing she's ever had to admit to someone.

"Heights freak me out. Really badly. And- and rivers. But- but I don't want to explode, or lose a leg or- or something."

She looks down at the river again and shivers, and mentally berates herself for letting any of that get out.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo doesn't judge. People have fears. He gets that.

It's the "getting over them" part he's a stickler for.

"It's not gonna be hard. It's the only way to avoid the snipers, from what I can see. So long as you can do pull-ups, you'll be fine."

He looks across the bridge - the snipers haven't spotted them. Yet.

"Look, Ellen, I'll go first. Once I get to the opposite bank, you can start whenever you want. I'll have my eye on you the whole time, and if it looks like you're slipping, I'll be on you like that," he says, snapping his fingers for effect.

"It's all in your head," he says, tapping his helmet. "The only thing thinkin' about fears accomplishes is givin' 'em more power over you. All you gotta do is just clear your mind, take a deep breath, and do it."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen nods. "I hung out of the window at the top of the Washington Monument once to get a job done," she murmurs. "I can do this. Let's- let's get going. As long as I- I just can't look down, that's all. I can do this."

[boston_bruiser]

"Okay. Cover me."

Voodoo waits for a gap in the raider's coverage, then sprints to the supports on the side of the bridge, secures the M60 to his side, and starts shimmying across the bridge, legs dangling over the too-brown river.

The shy of heart or easily frightened should shield their eyes.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen swallows and crouches down, the better to brace her Gauss rifle. If anyone catches sight of Voodoo now, she's only going to have a fraction of a second to react.

[boston_bruiser]

The bummer about canned food post-apocalypse?

Botulism still exists.

If Ellen listens very carefully, she just might hear two snipers on one of the bridge towers arguing.

"I said bring the pork and beans, Skrill. This canned beef crap's gone."

"What? No it's not."

"Yes it is, dumbass. You see those dents there? The seals're broken."

"Well, what does that mean?"

"That means you go hungry. It also means you get your ass back to the fuckin' warehouse and get us some pork and fucking beans. And it also means we trash these fuckin' cans."

Voodoo's halfway across the bridge when the cans come down. He hears a soft whistle and looks up -

- just in time for can one to hit him smack-dab on the forehead.

His grip loosens and he slips, one hand dangling from the supports while the other pats his vest down for a carabiner. He has it here somewhere, he knows it -

- but he's just gotten it out of its sheath when the second can smacks him right on the nose.

He loses his grip, arms flailing -

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Jesus Christ!"

There's not a thing Ellen can do about it, even with her suit's stealth field activated, even if she were to sprint with everything she had.

She's aware of this. She's bolting anyway. Regardless of how useless it might be.

[boston_bruiser]

- the carabiner hooks into the supports with a CLACK.


"Jesus Christ."


It takes Voodoo a little while to start breathing easy again - no small feat, considering he's hanging from his fingertips above the most polluted river for miles.

"Okay. Okay."

He pulls himself up off the carabiner, grunting with exertion, and back onto the supports.

...and maaaybe flips the bird to the unseen snipers once his handholds are solid.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

He's all right, he's all right, oh God the raiders are turning in her direction-

Ellen's taken enough falls practicing on hard-packed earth against Voodoo, and on pavement against Paladin Gunny, that Ellen barely even grunts from diving at the asphalt. All the snipers are going to see, if they see anything whatsoever, is a comparatively tiny patch of blur at ground level, and no sign of a human being anywhere.

She'll wait to lift her head up until she's absolutely sure it's a good idea.

[boston_bruiser]

That won't be long in coming - Voodoo's cleared the river and and just hopped down to the shore. There's just one raider down here, taking a smoke break. Voodoo quickly and quietly closes the distance.

Amazing how fragile the human neck is, once you apply a few quirks of physics to it.

"Shore's clear," he whispers into his radio.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"On my way," Ellen answers equally quietly, and begins making her way forward on elbows and knees. It's not the fastest or most efficient way in the world to move, but it beats being spotted by standing up. Changes catch the eye, after all.

She looks down at the river as she inches her way past the raider perimeter, and instantly wishes she hadn't. At least Voodoo can't see her squeeze her eyes shut, what with the stealth field and the mask down and all.

Colonel Hartigan, if you can hear me, help me get through this, she thinks, and sets herself to the laborious task of emulating Voodoo's shimmy across.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo sits stock-still, watching Ellen make her way across the supports, listening for any raiders that might take it upon themselves to sneak up on him. He doesn't radio words of encouragement or progress markers - the last thing Ellen needs right now is a tinny voice is her ear breaking her concentration.

He eyes the support beams - they're too high for him to jump up to, and getting on the bridge any other way will take too long if Ellen loses her grip. Any slips right now will end up with both of them in the river.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

She's been in space. She's walked in the absolute nothing, out in the black. She didn't fall out of the Washington Monument even though she had to repair a radio antenna while leaning out the window. She can do this, she keeps telling herself. She's done harder.

It occurs to her that given his desire to keep her safe, and everything he did towards that end, her father would have an aneurysm and die if he were alive to see her in this situation now.

[boston_bruiser]

A flash of black/grey on the bridge catches Voodoo's attention - it's Dogmeat, wandering through the maze of wrecked cars. He can't risk waving to him to let him know where they are - one of the raiders might turn around and see him.

Instead, he opts for a series of three quiet, rapid-fire tongue clicks.

Here's hoping Dogmeat's hearing is as sharp as advertised.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The dog's head comes up, his ears pricked forward; with the canine equivalent of a shrug he changes course and nimbly picks his way through the remainder of the cars. He's smelled explosive devices before, and knows enough to give them a wide berth as he heads for Voodoo's position.

Ellen, mind, is too busy with navigating the last few yards of bridge to notice. She'll be lucky if her arms ever stop trembling once she hits the ground on the other side, she thinks.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo'll wait until the bahoogies subside before proceeding with the plan - one thing at a time, here.

"You okay?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I." Ellen swallows. "Yeah. I'll manage. *So* glad I'm not wearing my power armor."

It wasn't as bad as space. NOTHING is as bad as space. She'll be okay.

[boston_bruiser]

"Okay." He peeks over the concrete barrier that divides the city proper from the river.

"Looks like an industrial district up ahead. Lots of tall buildings, alleys, windows, corners, doors. We stay careful and we should be able to get in without raising the alarm."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"We're going to have to scout a separate exit route from the inside," Ellen notes quietly. "If we want to get Dave out without a pitched battle, anyway."

She thinks for a minute, eyeing the ruins. They're not the wreck of DC, but they've got a familiar air, for all that. There's a stench on the breeze she doesn't recognize- something industrial, maybe- and another one she does, since there's been too many places in the Capital Wasteland that just don't seem to remember principles of hygiene.

"I don't know how I'm ever going to repay you for this. Whatever else happens." She shakes her head. "I can slip through that alley over there, see how far in it'll get us- some of these buildings have great vantage points on the upper floors, if the stairs haven't all rotted away."

[boston_bruiser]

"Okay." Voodoo steadies the M60 on the concrete barrier. "Got you covered."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Thanks. Dogmeat, come with me."

Nobody here gives a damn about the dog, or they would've shot at him when he wandered across the bridge, Ellen figures. And while she might be almost invisible, she's all too aware that a stealth field blur can be spotted. If someone catches the sound of something moving and happens to spot a masterless dog when they look in that direction, they'll have no reason to look more closely.

At least, she hopes that's how it'll shake out. She makes her way forward, slipping into the gap between two of the crumbling buildings. It doesn't seem to have been a popular venue, except with the radroaches. Certainly it's not populated now.

Some time later Dogmeat's head appears in a third-floor window briefly, his tail wagging in the shadows behind him. That would appear to be the all-clear.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo doesn't have a stealth suit - all he's got on his side is speed. So he sprints to the building, alternating between taking cover when the raiders turn his way and running when the raiders turn the other way.

As it happens, he's damn fast - barely 30 seconds pass before he's at the mouth of the alley, making his way to the building he spotted Dogmeat in. The interior stairs he clears in seconds, and he starts looking through the rooms.