"Ten-four," says Al, and the radio goes silent. Just in time, too; there's a horrible squeal of metal as the door's hinges give way under Fawkes' assault. Fawkes leans into the dark beyond the doorway, peering around a moment.
"I think something may have been here," he says, "but not the raiders. It smells too organic in here to have been sealed all this time."
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"Ten-four," says Al, and the radio goes silent. Just in time, too; there's a horrible squeal of metal as the door's hinges give way under Fawkes' assault. Fawkes leans into the dark beyond the doorway, peering around a moment.
"I think something may have been here," he says, "but not the raiders. It smells too organic in here to have been sealed all this time."