I leapt over the dilapidated ruins of the once massive construction. A monument to the old world's technological prowess, now it was the cover. You could say I was in an uncomfortable position. And truth be told I was rather uncomfortable. But as long as I kept pulling the trigger down range I'd be fine. I only began to feel very uncomfortable when my R91 clicked empty, just in time for one of the drugged up raiders to grow a pair and charge my position with a golf club of all things screaming "I gonna play hockey with your scrotum!"
By the time I had re-administered a magazine into the assault rifle he was on top of me and swinging, parrying with my rifle and shoving the head of the club into the ground, only to quickly step on it and shove the rifle butt into the lunatics face. But that damage was done, he had bought enough time for his friends to move up on me and open fire. Quickly shielding myself with the apparent golf player I put as much distance between me and them as I could while firing wildly from the hip and dragging myself and my new shield behind another pile of rubble, thinking it over quickly I decided enough was enough and pulled the transponder out, just in time to hear a telltale "frag out!" and watching the studded metal strike the top of my mound. With no time to dodge, I watch as it fell in slow motion, the best of caesar's assassins. God knows how many bounty hunters, robots, raiders, and god knows how many monsters of various size and strength. And I'm about to go out because some punk of a raider was keeping a frag grenade up his ass. I closed my eyes. Only here the odd sound of energy fizzling out, then opening my eyes see the fleeting remains of the blue energy wave from a pulse grenade. Quickly realizing I wasn't dead I pressed down on the transponder before they had time to rush me.
I doubled over and pulled off my riot helmet while nervous system caught with being demolished and rebuilt in a different place, each muscle crying out that it had been severed before quickly realizing that no, they're fine. The feeling of pain quickly replaced with the feeling of grass itching at my hands. Quickly straightening after feeling the rare plant and looking around, I wasn't in the big mt. where one would expect the see the ridges of the crater that had once been a mountain there were fields and fields of farm lands. Growing oddly familiar yet unrecognizable plants. And where one would expect an odd dark sky vaguely tinted a sickly dark blue was instead a beautiful light where I had only seen before in Orlando. "Ugggh" the groaning woke me from my daze. Turning to see the raider I had used as a shield had apparently come with me and was alive to boot. Tough bastard. Walking over to where his gold club lay as well as various bits of rubble from the mound, and picking it up. I returned to his side and raised it over my head, just in time for his eyes to flutter open and for him to mumble a "no wait" before I quickly silence any pleas by burying a portion of the club into his face. Taking another look around I began to realize just how valuable the land I was standing was. The fields seemed to stretch on forever. And the plants weren't just healthy. They were damn gorgeous. They dwarfed the NCR's farm plants, not just in size. But color and number as well. With them being planted far more closely together and denser. I grabbed one of the of stalks and removed one of the food looking items growing out in that could only be old world corn and placed it in my pack for study when I got back to big mt. before locating my rifle and giving it a once over. Once satisfied with the condition of my primary weapon I began to move through the field. Putting my helmet back on and Brushing aside the plants as I wandered through the field and my own mind wondering how exactly I got here. Clearly the pulse grenade was the most likely candidate for the cause of this, but that didn't answer the question of where I was. Not in America certainly. I've traveled from east to west and I've never heard of a farm this massive. Any place that could produce this much food would be fought over almost as harshly as hoover's dam. So where was he, England? Russia was too cold and would no doubt experience the full effects of nuclear winter in spades due to their already cold climate. Before I could wander deeper into my thoughts I was stirred by the sound of gunfire, stopping and debating what I should do. Before finally siding with heading towards it, I need answers. Going into a heavy jog. No more than twenty minutes later I stumbled across the oddest scene I've seen it a very long time. In some kind of barn stood a handful of soldiers, clad in thick armor. Thicker than mine. And firing sleek futuristic rifles and various design. But as unusual as that was that wasn't what grabbed my attention. Instead, what did we're a trio of grey-skinned and armored monsters? With brutal looking weapons. About the size of a super mutant. And likely came from a strand of FEV, they didn't have the disproportionate appearance of their eastern brothers. But the more uniform appearance of the masters super mutant army in the west. Easily deciding which force to ally myself with I leveled my rifle on the gray skins exposed flank and opened fire. The bullets bounced off the beast's armor with a series of pings before two of them diverted full attention to me firing oddly drummed weapons, turns out they were shotguns as I found out the hard way when buckshot of some kind ripped across my side. Dropping to the ground to make my target smaller and rolling as best I could back into the stalks. I quickly heard an explosion before a long series of gunfire before waiting a moment and peeking back up. Looks like my distraction had given the soldiers enough time toss a grenade into the midsts of the gray skins and then clean them up with their rifles. Putting some faith in my fellow man, more so than I've put in a long time I removed myself from my makeshift cover. Leaving my rifle to hand at my side. "Civilian! Get over here!" Raising an eyebrow at the use of English, oddly thick accent. And the choice of words that the soldier that addressed me couldn't see. I headed towards the barn, if a bit slower due to the glancing blow on my ribs and legs. "Alfson, get over here a patch up the civvie" not one to pass up free medical aid I let one of the soldiers take up some of my weight on my hurt side taking me inside the odd barn-like building. After looking over my wounds and muttering "damn lucky, all flesh." he then began to pour an odd foam into the wounds "son of a bitch!" I shouted "stings huh?" a replied with a helmeted glare, which he simply shrugged out before helping me up "hell of an antic you're using, you some kind of doomsday prepper?" "a what?" "forget it" "Nordin! Nystrom! Bjork! Prep the hogs. Alfson, you finished with your new lover?" "yes, sir" "then get him in the fucking truck" With that the medic took me to an oddly shaped car of some time, I've seen working cars before but to just have two hardy trucks like this was damn impressive. the medic helped into the 'shotgun' seat and then stepping into the back with a clearly destroyed Gatling gun once stood. Quickly after the soldier addressed as Nordin took up the driver's seat and started it. The beast gave out a mechanical roar. Before being mirrored by the other one driven by the soldier giving the orders and Nystrom and Bjork in the gunner and shotgun seats respectively. The latter truck to the lead with mine moving to follow it.
"Hey soldier, where the hell am I?" the driver raised an eyebrow at me before turning back to the road "just outside Utgard, we're heading for some frigates that'll take you and us the hell off this planet" "Off Planet? What the hell? Are you on jet?" "what the hell is jet?" I retreat for a second to think about my reply "What planet am I on?" "man, did you hit your head? Alfson, you sure he doesn't have a concussion?" Alfson replied to his question "maybe, didn't take off the helmet" "answer My question please!" "your on harvest!" "What the fuck is a harvest?"