"Listen up, children! This is Three Dog! The Super Mutants in the DC interior are not to be fucked with. They will never be reasoned with, they cannot be bribed and they WILL kill you just for the fun of it. If you see them, don't try to fight! Running, hiding and sneaking are your best options if you want to avoid becoming monster chow! Until next time children, this is THREE DOG! AAAHHHHOOOOOOOOO!"
"Yeah...thanks for the advice, dipshit," I growled through clenched teeth. "Fucking prick..." My breath was coming to me in ragged gasps, but I knew I had to finish patching my wounds before I could allow myself to pass out. If I didn't get myself fixed up there was a real chance that I'd never leave this place.
I rolled a dial on the left side of the device strapped to my wrist, turning the volume to zero. The thing is called a PipBoy 3000 and as far as I'm concerned, it's worth it's weight in gold. In fact, based on what I'd seen since I left the vault, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that my PipBoy is the most technologically advanced piece of equipment in the entire Capital Wasteland.
Aside from the built-in radio, the PipBoy has a fully updateable mapping feature, a built in flashlight, as well as a medical function called H.I.T.S. That's the Health & Immunity Tracking System, and it works exactly as advertised. H.I.T.S. monitors my heart rate, radiation level, skeletal stability, blood toxicity and a ton of other cool shit. It basically tells me how badly I'm hurt, and at the time that was exactly what I needed to know.
I had been holed up, high inside the Washington Monument for the last 4 hours, tending to a gunshot wound in my left shoulder and what I was pretty sure were at least two broken ribs on my right side. As far as I knew, the bullet was still lodged in my shoulder and while it did hurt like hell, I didn't think it was life threatening. My ribs were my main concern...I could feel them slip and move, so I knew they were broken. I was scared to death and the fear was intensified by the threat of internal damage.
6 hours ago, I infiltrated the ruins of Washington DC, on a task for the voice on the radio. Three Dog sent me to the Museum of Technology to locate an old radar dish that he said would boost his station's signal. He told me that if I helped him, I'd be "fighting the good fight." Whatever. I can't say I was interested in any of that. I also can't say I cared for Three Dog.
If it had been anyone else, I would have told him to go fuck himself. But, the sad fact is...I agreed to this suicide mission because that asshole Three Dog might just be the only person who knows where I can find my dad.
I began to rummage through my backpack and found the small box of medical supplies I carried. The items inside were undoubtedly the most valuable things I'd been able to scavenge over the course of the last few weeks, and I quickly learned to search every first-aid kit I found for more.
The darkness slowed my search, but I wasn't about to turn the light on. A bright light in the tower would only advertise my position. It would pretty much be one of the dumbest fucking moves I could think of at the time, and I was injured, not stupid. After a few moments, I found what I was looking for and got to work.
I pulled a stimpack, a small bottle of purified water, and half a roll of medical tape from the box and set them beside me. Using the clean water, I scrubbed a small area about the size of a bottlecap about 5 inches below my armpit.
Taking a deep breath, I jabbed the tip of the stimpack into my skin. I grimaced sharply and then exhaled slowly as I felt the numbing medicine rush to heal and strengthen the bruised flesh. That shit definitely helped with the pain, but I knew I'd have to find a doctor if I wanted to know just how badly damaged my ribs really were. As I wrapped the medical tape tightly around my abdomen, I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness.
Reaching into the one of the pockets of the jacket on the floor next to me, I pulled out a half full bottle of whiskey and took a deep swig. The liquid fire numbed my senses almost immediately.
"How the fuck did things go so wrong?" My mind drifted back to the moment when everything started to fall apart.
Upon entering the museum, I discovered that a large portion of an upper floor had collapsed and blocked the entrance to the lunar exhibit, forcing me to detour through most of the museum. "Great." I thought. As far as anyone knew, this place was absolutely crawling with Super Mutants. "Fuck it," I sighed to myself, "just gonna have to be careful."
The first exhibit was a tour through a mock Vault, like the one I had grown up in. If I wasn't in such extreme danger, I might have felt nostalgic about that, but I had to stay focused.
After the quick trip down memory lane, I plunged into the heart of the museum. I managed to make good progress by staying in the shadows, slipping past patrolling muties, and taking out any of the ugly fucks that I wasn't able to sneak by.
I eventually found my way to the lunar exhibit and located the dish without much trouble. It wasn't exactly what I expected, but fuck it, I'm not complaining. It was the first pleasant surprise I'd had all day, and I'm not one to look a gift Brahmin in the mouth. The dish was roughly the diameter of a dinner plate and only weighed about 15 pounds. I secured it to my backpack, and prepared to leave.
The way out of the museum would actually be easier to navigate than the way in. The exit of the lunar exhibit would deposit me on the other side of the fallen rubble that had blocked my way earlier. The large doors at the top of the stairs in the room led to a balcony that overlooked the main lobby, so I knew I wouldn't have far to go after I was done in there.
I realize now, it was that bit of knowledge that led me to be so careless, but sometimes, one mistake is all it takes.
Feeling confident with the knowledge that I knew the way out, I decided to explore a bit more. Maybe I'd be able to find some extra medical supplies or, if I was lucky, a weapons cache. I followed the signs on the wall directing me to an administrative area. One sign had three listings on it. CONTROL ROOM, SUPPLY CLOSET, SECURITY. "Bingo…security." After quickly checking my ammo, I hurried down the hallway.
As I rounded the corner at the hallway's intersection, I found myself face to face with four hundred and fifty pounds of pissed off muscle holding a sledgehammer. We reacted at the same time, but as I raised my assault rifle, I instinctively knew I had made a big mistake. Everything was wrong, and in a flash, I realized why. This big mother fucker was left-handed!
"Of course, I'd run into the only left-handed super mutant in the entire capital wasteland..." I mused as I opened fire. The three round burst went wide and missed the mutant's head by a few inches.
Before I could correct my aim, I felt the sledge hammer blast into my right flank below my raised arm. It was a home run swing that launched me off my feet and hurled me into the wall on my left. The world became blurry as my knees buckled and I slid towards the floor. All I could do was look up in horror as the mutant raised the hammer above his head for what was sure to be a killing blow.
Pissed off at myself for being so careless, racked with pain and terrified beyond belief, I squeezed the trigger again. The assault rifle roared, drowning out my defiant scream. The first few bullets hit the mutant directly in the chest, so I held firm and traced a line up and into his chin. His head snapped back as a bullet caught him in the soft spot directly under the jowls. I gripped the trigger tightly until the top of his head exploded in a gory mist and the ceiling was painted red with bloody chunks of skull and brain. His huge corpse stiffened and fell straight backwards as the sledgehammer clattered against the smooth marble floor.
I laid on the cold floor for a minute or two before struggling to my feet. Instantly, I felt searing fire shoot through me. Slumping against the wall and clutching my side, I staggered back the way I came. Slowly, I made my way up the stairs towards the lobby. "Fuck me…" I thought as I stepped through the door. The drop from the balcony to the lobby floor was about fifteen feet. Still, there was no way in hell I was going through that place again. I steeled myself and made the decision. I wanted to get the fuck out of there ASAP, so I was just going to have to be careful.
I kicked away a broken section of railing, clearing an area wide enough to lower myself. I laid on my stomach and pushed myself backwards feet first until I was hanging by both hands. My side was stretched, and the pain was unbearable. Tears welled up in my eyes. I lost the grip in my right hand, my arm falling limp at my side. I dangled by my left hand for another moment before letting go and dropping the seven or so feet to the dusty floor. I landed in a heap and curled into a ball. I rolled onto my hands and knees and coughed harshly. A deep red glob of blood splattered onto the tile. God damn. I forced myself to stand and stumbled to the foyer and out into the night.
The mall was eerily quiet, which only amplified the pounding in my head. The light of the moon served as the only source of illumination. The night sky was clear and starry with only the occasional wispy cloud rolling past here or there. I turned to the west and gazed up at the tallest structure in the city, the Washington Monument. My side was on fire with pain, and I struggled to breathe. Moving slowly, I avoided the series of bunkers and trenches that criss-cross the open area of the mall. The bunkers were surely full of those mutie dickheads, and I was in no shape to do any more fighting.
Slowly working my way forward through the deep shadows, I spotted two mutants atop one of the mounds that lined the trenches to my right. Stopping dead in my tracks, I watched until the larger one wandered away on patrol. After that, it was just a matter of waiting until the other one turned his back to me before I made my way forward, keeping my eyes peeled for any more movement.
When I was halfway to the Monument, I came across a lone mutant patrolling an area ahead. There would be no sneaking past this one. He hadn't seen me yet, and I clung to the wall, hoping the shadows would absorb me. I knew I wouldn't stand a chance if it came down to a straight up fight, and decided to improvise.
Twisting the clasp on my backpack as quietly as I could, I quickly found what I was looking for. Inching backwards, I rounded the corner of the building and dropped to one knee. I cautiously inspected the landmine before placing it about three and a half feet from the wall. Then I brushed a small bit of dirt over the top and around the sides of it, hoping to conceal as much as I could.
I crept forward to my previous hiding spot in the shadows and caught a better glimpse of the mutant when he stepped into the moonlit pathway. "Great...a fucking brute."
As far as I could tell, the Super Mutants definitely had some kind of hierarchy. The weaker ones were rarely well equipped, but this one had a full suit of thick looking armor and a hunting rifle not unlike the one I usually carried. I would have to be quick and purposeful if I was going to make this work.
I caught his attention by scraping the stock of my rifle against the rough mortar of the building. The Brute turned around quickly and faced my direction. I crept backwards, my heart pounding in my chest. The fire in my ribs was excruciating as I tried to hurry in a half crouching walk. When I was about 5 feet from the waiting trap, I stood and tried to look startled as if I had just rounded the corner.
"FILTHY HUMAN!" he bellowed as I spun on my heel and tried to run. Just as I was about to turn the corner, I heard the sharp report of his rifle, along with the jarring sensation of being punched in the shoulder.
I stumbled forward and rounded the corner, hugging the wall closely to avoid the small mound of explosives. Rushing into the darkness, I slipped into the shadows and slumped behind a large dumpster. Approximately 10 seconds later I heard the loud crunch of his footsteps, followed by a deafening explosion. A muscular yellow leg flew over the dumpster, impacted the wall I was facing and landed about two feet in front of me. Peeking out from behind the dumpster, I squinted through the cloud of dirt and debris. The trap had worked to perfection. Both of his legs were blown off, but he wasn't dead yet.
Rising to my feet, I walked towards him as he clawed at the ground. He was dragging himself towards me, evidently still itching for a fight. Running on adrenaline now, I barely noticed the pain as I stood above him. He whimpered something that sounded like "I'll eat your bones," but I wasn't hearing any of that bullshit. I brought my assault rifle to bear and growled, "payback's a bitch" as I fired a burst into each shoulder. He wasn't going to be dragging himself anywhere now. Squatting next to him, I kept my rifle pointed at his face. I ripped the thick helmet from his head, and tossed it aside.
"Start talking, shithead." I whispered. "What do you mutants want with DC? What are you after?"
"Filthy hu.." he repeated. I'd have to guess the rest of what he was going to say, but I was pretty sure I had an idea. Since the barrel of my gun was hovering two inches from his head, it was hard to make out exactly what he said as I pulled the trigger.
"Wrong answer." I quickly searched his body and managed to find a stimpack and a small box of .32 caliber rounds. "Thanks for the supplies though."
Scanning the area for any sign of trouble, I didn't see any more mutants, but after the way things had been going, I wasn't about to take any more chances. After waiting several minutes, I decided to press on. I spent another 20 minutes or so slowly creeping through the darkness, until I finally spotted the security point the Brotherhood had set up at the base of the monument. I couldn't see anyone there, so I moved forward cautiously. As I approached the imposing gates, I realized why. A corpse was draped over the sandbag fortification, and it was wearing the distinctive steel power armor of the Brotherhood of Steel.
I looted the heavy ammo box nearby, finding 3 magazines of 5.56 ammo and crouched next to the dead soldier. Running my fingers over the thick suit of power armor, I debated whether or not I could make use of it. No, I decided. It was too bulky and I had no idea how the shit worked. It looked clumsy and cumbersome. I'd never been very impressed with the way the BOS troops moved when they had it on.
I began to pull his helmet off, and his head rotated unnaturally. Fuck. Neck shot. This guy never knew what hit him. Carefully, I unhooked the bloody holotag from around what was left of his neck and turned it over in my hand. Paladin Garcia. I said a silent prayer for him and tucked the holotag into one of the pockets on my jacket.
Rising to my feet, I walked over to the security box that controlled access to the large gate. After inputting the code that Three Dog gave me, the gate slowly swung open and I began to walk through. I heard whimpering to my left and saw an armored figure curled in the fetal position, clutching a rifle.
"They came out of nowhere..." he sobbed. "Before I could even warn him, they shot him right in the throat!" He smelled like shit, and I was pretty sure he had soiled himself.
I quickly closed the gate and kneeled down next to him. Jesus Christ, this kid couldn't be more than 15 years old! What the fuck were these Brotherhood assholes thinking, sending a kid into the lions den?
"Get your shit together right now, kid!" I growled. "Tell me what happened." I could tell he was shaken to the core, but this was no time to be soft.
"I don't know," he whimpered. "The muties were on patrol like usual. We saw two of them in the distance, and were taking turns tracking them through the binocs. I had just opened the gate when I looked back towards Garcia. That was when I saw three of them moving on Garcia's flank, rushing towards him. Before I could say anything, his throat just exploded..." He continued to cry. I tried to piece together what he was saying between the loud sobs. "I turned to run, and that's when I saw the other three, coming at me from the opposite direction. Six fucking mutants, man!"
"It's okay, kid. You're safe now. Go on, tell me what happened after that." I consoled him. My ribs were throbbing, and I needed to get the facts quickly. There could be as many as eight angry mutants who had just seen me enter the gate.
"I ran. I left Garcia out there, like a fucking cow...like a fucking coward!" He took a deep breath and choked down a sob. He seemed to be gathering himself. "Good," I thought, "maybe there's hope for him, after all."
"I reached the inner panel and closed the gate behind me before they could catch me! I heard fighting after that...I couldn't tell what the hell was going on out there. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it sounded like one person was fighting all six of them! The muties were going ape-shit, screaming and firing wildly. In the midst of all of it, I could hear a single loud gunshot from time to time."
"One man? Are you sure? Who the fuck is crazy enough to take on six Super Mutants with a fucking rifle?"
He shook his head. "It wasn't a rifle! And he wasn't at a distance! It sounded like a revolver, man, I shit you not. Loud, too, like I said. A magnum, maybe? I don't know...I've never gotten to fire one, but a couple of the higher ups back at the Citadel would demo their .44 magnums at the range once in a while. It sounded like that."
"It doesn't add up." I said. "Where the fuck are all the bodies? And if this guy was BOS, he'd be in here with you. They would at least check on you and tend to Garcia's body, wouldn't they? I found him out there, slumped over the bags. And who do you have that's good enough to take on six wild muties with a fuckin' revolver? Any of your 'higher ups' good enough for that kind of work?"
"No." He shook his head again. "Between trying to steady the armor and be precise with that kind of gun...no. The best was Paladin Gunny, and even he would miss a lot. Look, I told you everything I know..."
"What's your name, kid?" I reached out my hand and helped him to his feet. He grabbed my wrist and stood to face me.
"Initiate Carlisle. Thomas Carlisle."
"Alright Tom. Here's the deal...I'm hurt, bad. I need to get to the tower and bed down for the night. And I need you to stay here and stand watch. You don't have to open the gate, but you damned well better stay awake. I have to heal up, or I'm gonna die out here and you'll probably die too unless I can finish doing what I came to do. You have a radio?"
"Yeah, but the range is shit. Garcia and I haven't been able to reach anyone on any channel since we got here." He tossed the radio to me, and I caught it with a grimace. I reached into my pocket, grabbed the box of .32 ammo I took from stumpy and handed it to him.
"Let me worry about that. I think I can boost the range and with any luck, the cavalry should be here in the morning." I turned to the elevator, pushed the button and glanced over my shoulder. "You just hold tight and no matter what, DO NOT let anyone in here. If anyone comes near, fire two shots into the sky and retreat to the elevator, you hear me?"
He nodded and I turned to face the elevator doors as they opened before me. I stepped in and activated the panel. The doors slid shut and the rickety old elevator rose with a lurch...
