Alright! First off, I do not own Fallout or its ideas, characters, ect. Thank you to DeathDealer Inc. for your AMAZING criticism. It's always welcome, and it makes me able to make better stories. And now, thank you to "The Enclave Assassin," "Kenny ZeWolf," "mercyspace," "DeathDealer Inc" again, "CrimTheSoleSurvivor," and "LobsterMonster420" for submitting OCs. If you wish, you can still submit OCs. Enjoy the chapter!
God bless, JPLegends
CHAPTER TWO: A Firefight Already
'Well, this is starting well.'
Austin jacked a synth in the face with a glass. And now, not only is his hand bleeding and not only is he in insane pain from punching a robot in the face, but the synth winces and nearly falls to the ground as well. His paper-like skin tore in multiple places and the fabric in his eyes turned from organic and green to metallic and yellow. He staggers back and his hand covers his jaw. His other two synth pals draw their rifles and Austin draws his pistol. He winces in pain and sees that there are shards of glass in his blood soaked fingers. He aims the barrel at the synth covering his mouth. His eyes are fiery and angry.
"So far," Austin says, trying not to show any far. "I'm not a fan of your Synth Society." His heart is beating out of his chest. There's eleven bullets left in his chamber. The synths have far more in their rifles and look pissed. The crowd reacts accordingly: the Mr. Handy stares in silent anticipation, and most of the crowd scatters and runs out of the bar. A few, for whatever reason, stood and drew their weapons for whatever reason. Austin counted about twelve or so standing up. Six drew laser pistols, four drew pipe pistols and two drew ten millimeters.
One of the men sporting a pipe pistol looked quite drunk, he sporadically stands up and shouts in a loud and obnoxious fashion, "WOO! BAR FIGHT! DIE, BITCHES!"
And then he throws a molotov.
"Shit shit shit shit shit shit…"
Austin said this a few billion times as he bounded over the bar and takes to cover. Glass and fire spreads all over the middle of the room and multiple people scatter. The Mr. Handy took action immediately, quickly hovering out of his bar shouting, "THAT'S NOT IN THE DAMAGE DEPOSIT, HEATHEN!" Austin could not hear what the synths were doing, but the leader made their intention obvious.
"KILL THE FUCKER!"
The Mr. Handy started cutting away at the drunk bastard who threw the Molotov and his buddies with the pipe pistols did not take too kindly to that. The synths started firing at Austin, most of the shots mainly flying over or whizzing past his head. The men with the laser pistols took action immediately, and started firing at both the drunk man's friends and the synths. Two of the synths, the leader included turned to start firing at these men. Austin emerged from cover, aiming carefully and fired five bullets into the synth who is still firing at him. The synth drops to the ground, twitching and sparking. Six bullets left. The bar is burning and every fighter left in the bar is trying to kill each other. Taking the opportunity, Austin ducks behind the cupboards and reaches for the back door handle.
"I'll pay for damage deposit later." Austin whispers to himself. Austin heads out the door and finds himself in an alleyway. There are tons of people running and screaming, and a few Brotherhood soldiers trying to keep the peace. Four men run out from the bar and look around, with combat rifles on their backs and pipe pistols on their belts. One of them points at Austin, and all of them turn to look at him. "You've got to be shitting me." Austin says in frustration. He looks to the building he is parallel to. There is a door right there. Austin throws himself into the door, crashing through it and searching his surroundings. It's a large warehouse with crates scattered here and there and staircases that lead up to a catwalk that is around the perimeter of the inside of the building. Austin potentially has seconds before he is filled with bullets. There is glass imbedded in his hand, which makes his job of firing a pistol not so easy. What to do. What to do.
Austin decides the best course of action is the most obvious one. It is the bravest option: run and hide like a bitch. He picks a random crate takes cover, enveloping himself in the shadows. Seconds later he hears the sound of footsteps and the door opening. He hears a voice say, "Find him! Viktor wants the fucker in pieces!" Austin peers out of cover for a good three seconds, seeing the four start to spread out and search the area. There is one closest to him, only a few boxes away. The other three are on the other side of the warehouse. And there is a stack of boxes rather close to the one that Austin is nearest to. Having a plan formulated, Austin gets out of sight and sneaks up on the synth closest to him.
"Psst." Austin whispers. The synth turns to face him and in an instant of foolish bravery, Austin springs and forces the hand with a pipe pistol to the side. He jabs the gun barrel into the synth's stomach, pulling the trigger, making the synth scream and drop his pistol. Then, Austin jabs the gun's barrel into the synth's mouth and pulls the trigger. The bullet passes clean through the "skull" and metallic bits fly here and there from the back of the synth's head. This takedown is not only an effective one, but a messy one. It has a tendency to get blood and gore on Austin's face from time to time. The synth falls to the ground, dead. Three synths left. Four bullets left. The synths turn and look Austin in the eyes.
"NO! JACOB," One yells. "YOU KILLED MY BEST FRIEND, DICK!"
Austin takes the boxes and scatters them onto the floor. He takes cover behind them and waits as the synths skirt their way around and fire continuously at him. Austin takes the opportunity to search the synth, Jacob. He finds some bits of roast, primarily iguana on a stick; some .45 ammo for the rifle, .38 ammo for the pistol, and some stimpaks. He grabs the rifle and ammunition, examining them. The rifle has fifteen bullets in the magazine. And there are seven spare magazines with twenty bullets inside each. Austin peers back over the cover. He sees one synth directly in front of him, reloading in cover. He sees another north east of him, firing mercilessly. The other is nowhere to be seen. Austin emerges from cover from a place where the synth firing on him can't hit and waits for the synth to poke his head out. When he does, Austin fires a bullet. The kickback is fierce, and Austin misses his mark. He squeezes the trigger again, aiming more precisely. The next bullet hits the synth square in the shoulder. The synth staggers, allowing for Austin to fire again. The next shot hits the synth in the head, which explodes into mechanical parts.
Twelve bullets in the rifle. Four in the pistol. The next synth starts stringing profanities together, and the last synth is still nowhere to be seen. Austin skirts his way through the cover, staying low and trying to be careful. His hand is stinging from the glass and possibly fractured knuckles. His heart is racing at a million miles an hour. He manages to get to a point where he flanks the synth and fires five more bullets into him. The synth sputters as he is pumped full of lead, and falls on the ground. Austin spins around, looking for the last synth. His answer comes to him in the form of a rifle stock to the back of the head. Austin head starts ringing as he falls on the floor, turning around to see the synth that popped into existence right behind him. Austin notices he pip-boy on his arm, thinking the synth possibly activated a Stealth Boy when the fight started. Damn cloaking technologies are hard to get around.
Austin gets on his knee, drawing his pistol and raising it. The synth grabs the pistols, and bends Austin's hand in a way it really should not contort. Austin screams as he drops his pistol to the ground, and the synth uses his foot to slide the weapon away. The synth then shoves Austin down on the ground and aims his combat rifle at Austin's head. Austin, stunned, can't think of anything in time before the synth pulls the trigger. So, he closes his eyes in anticipation for death. Then he hears a sound like a hammer and a sonar pulse, but Austin assumes he's alive. He opens his eyes to see the synth body burning in the stomach and sputtering on the floor. In front of Austin now is a familiar ghoul with a laser rifle, modified with a beam splitter. In short terms, a laser shotgun. "Greene?" Austin asks his new friend.
"In the flesh." Greene says, getting Austin to his feet and handing him his pistol.
"Where the hell have you been?" Austin asks, wondering if Greene planned to help fight, why didn't he come sooner.
"Keeping the SMP off your ass." Greene says.
"The what now?" Austin says, his eyebrow arching. Greene shakes his head.
"Secret Military Police," Greene says. "Those assholes with the laser pistols. They serve the mayor of Metroport. Which is the city we're in now. Like I said, welcome to the continent. You technically started that fight back there, so you are enemy number one at this moment. I just sent them on a wild goose chase on the other side of the city before they caught your sorry ass. And they'll be here shortly. So grab what you need and let's get the hell out of here."
Austin goes and loots the rest of the synths, finding more ammo, stimpaks, water and roast. He holsters his pistol and puts his new rifle on his back. Then, he and Greene get out of the warehouse and work their way through the crowd. While walking, Austin asks the most obvious question: "Where are we going?"
"Salem Motel," Greene responds. "O'Brieney doesn't care who he serves as long as he gets caps and possibly a bit of humor. We'll stay there and squat for the night, and I can fill you in on what exactly Europa is about. In exchange, I can know a bit more about you."
"And why would I want to do that?" Austin asks.
"Ever heard of the Paladins? Course you haven't, you just got here," Greene responds. "I watched you jump that fence, punch that synth in the mouth, and I got to see a bit of that firefight you happened to be in. You've got finesse. You have good aim, solid energy, tactically intelligent. It's what we as the Paladins need."
"I would want to join the Paladins why?" Austin asks.
"You don't," Greene says. "I understand. You aren't exactly trusting since coming here from Boston. I'm willing to bet your name isn't Austin Hearve. But the Paladins are full of guys like you willing to do what's right. And we need a man like you. We're fighting a turf war against the Super Mutants. And losing."
"Before I decide, can I at least fix up my fucked up hand," Austin asks. "It's not exactly good to firing…you know, a gun?"
"Of course." Greene says. The make it to Salem hotel, a massive old apartment building that takes up three blocks. The keeper, O'Brieney, was actually not a person. Surprisingly, he's a Sentry Bot. The massive bots glide around on their spider legs with wheels and have heavy ordinance attached to their arms. O'Brieney's face isn't anything out of the ordinary: a case head with red sensory lights coming out of a grille. His paint job is green and yellow. When the bot approached the two, Austin immediately got nervous. He hasn't exactly had any good interactions with these bots. But O'Brieney's voice was surprisingly chipper.
"My lads," O'Brieney says in an Irish accent mixed with metallic reverb. "You want a room, I assume, eh?" Following this statement is a jolly, genuine laugh.
"Uh…yes," Austin says. "I, erm, need a room, if you, uh, wouldn't mind…please?"
"Hahaha," O'Brieney laughs again. "No need to be nervous, laddie! I'm not like me uptight, shoot first-ask questions later models. I'll find you a room, and you can take some rest from the crazy life out there. If I had to go out and deal with those Stabstags, Leapers, or God forbid, Adaders, I'd go out of me mind!" These terms flew so far over Austin's head he could not jump and catch them. The worst creatures he's ever fought are Yao Guai, Deathclaws and Radscorpians. Much less Stabstags, Leapers and Adaders.
"Ah, yes, the mighty…Leaper," Austin says, trying to recover from the awkward spot he landed in. "Those damned things are the reason we swear."
"I like you," O'Brieney laughs jovially. "Dustin will lead you up to your room." While the two head up to their room, Greene slinked his arm around Austin's shoulder.
"You know, I like you," Greene says. "What say you and me go down to the bar tonight and get drunk as fuck tonight?" Austin grins like an idiot.
"Sounds good to me."
FALLOUT! Tell me what your opinions are starting off here. They are important. See you around.
