Rising up from the neck of the latest trooper to meet his maker the Word Bearer was flush with success. He had a hard fight ahead of him but he was on a roll. Retrieving the knife he wiped it clean on the bed sheets and held it in his palm against the underside of his wrist. Letting himself out of the room he froze when he saw a third trooper in briefs and a t shirt standing in the threshold of the door across the hall from him. Lowering his head and getting a slightly stronger grip on the knife he let the third trooper come storming towards him.
"Davies? You fuckin' sleeping on the job again? I swear if you're supposed to be downstairs-" the trooper said angrily as he approached. When he was in striking range the imposter's hand flicked up as fast as a radscorpion's tail at the trooper's throat. Unbelievably the trooper's head jerked out of the way and he twisted the Word Bearer's hand in the same motion. Slapping the blade at the top he forced it loose and it clattered to the floor as both opponents looked at each other with new-found understanding. Simultaneously they re-evaluated the situation as clearly it was not what either of them signed up for.
"Shit. Ranger." the escaped prisoner said.
"Courier. Fuck." the NCR's elite cursed.
The wastelander went for his gun but the ranger threw himself forward and tackled him into the door he had just come out of. They both spilled into the barracks room and the Courier fought to get a hand on the 9mm. The ranger locked his right arm down to prevent the Word Bearer from drawing his pistol out of the holster and they both strained to gain the upper hand.
"Fuck!" the ranger exclaimed when he saw his dead allies.
"You're...alone!" the former courier got out as he tried to break the ranger's grip. Successfully getting the gun free of the holster he still could not effectively aim it upward at his opponent. Abandoning his hold the ranger went after the gun and they fought over it directly until the NCR commando twisted it away from the both of them and sent it skidding towards the body on the floor. Taking the momentary opening the escapee threw a punch off his back that cracked the ranger's jaw. Taking it like a light slap the soldier dropped an elbow on the scarred face below him.
The skull jarring impact reminded him that he was in a poor position and the Mojave walker worked his legs under the ranger's torso. He warded off incoming blows and shoved the other man up and backwards into the hallway. Scrambling to his feet just a half second faster he lunged forward and hit the ranger shoulder-first. Dumping the other man onto his back he quickly moved to isolate the ranger's right hand just before he was given a nasty surprise. Attempting to swing his leg over to pin his opponent's left arm he suddenly felt the steel bite of a knife sink deep into his thigh. Jerking back in pain and confusion he saw his own combat knife protruding from his leg just before the ranger rolled him to the side.
Coming up on top again the commando landed one, two hard shots that made the former courier's head bounce off the wooden floor. Tying up the ranger's arms with his own the escapee shook his head to let it clear as the other man tried to get free and press his advantage. Something hard and metal was digging into the wastelander's chest around the sternum and he realized he had another weapon handy. Letting go of the arms he was holding onto the Word Bearer raked the ranger's face with his nails and reached into his chest pocket with the other.
Oblivious to the attack the ranger took the chance to use both his hands to pin down the escapee's left arm. A few moves away from a broken arm he frantically fumbled at his vest pocket until his fingers closed around the end of a Stimpak. The ranger began to crank his arm back behind his shoulder when the wasteland renegade stabbed the needle into the NCR elite's eye socket.
Blood and eye juice sprayed his face as the ranger cried out in pain. Reaching up with his free hand to grip the soldier's neck the Courier sat up just slightly and slammed the end of the Stimpak down onto his down head. It sank another inch into the ranger's socket and freeing his arm from the flopping limbs of the veteran soldier the escapee used both hands to forcibly ram the ranger's head to his own. Scalp and forehead bleeding from the cuts the metal end of the Stimpak made it only took a flat palm strike to drive the needle almost to the hilt into the ranger's skull.
Collapsing on top of him the body jerked in erratic undeath gruesomely. Pushing the corpse off of him the former courier sucked in great gobs of air. He was bleeding in at least a half dozen places, his leg was burning from the large knife sticking out of it and his face hurt all over but at least he was alive. Breathing in deep he exhaled hard to painfully expel blood and mucous out of his nasal cavity. It didn't quite happen like it should have and he realized his nose was broken.
Feeling along the bridge of his nose he located the break. Forming a triangle with his fingers he set them at the top of his nose and took in a deep breath. Exhaling through his mouth he dragged his fingers down and felt the snap as he set the nose back in place. The pain only spiked for a moment and throbbed along with the rest of his injured body after a couple minutes. It wasn't perfect but the monocyte breeder would take care of the rest and he had bigger concerns at the moment.
Scooting himself to the wall to lean against it he pulled out the remaining Stimpak and set it down by his left leg. Taking in another deep breath he exhaled and felt the pain of being stabbed again as he slid the knife free of his muscle tissue. Blood rushed out and he quickly jammed the nearby Stimpak into the wound and depressed the plunger. The old familiar sting of the healing fluid got to work immediately to accelerate the natural repair process. Sitting there a few minutes while his leg tingled he took a well earned break.
The bleeding from his scalp and forehead had already stopped and his face was busy unbruising itself. Suddenly the fifty thousand plus caps he'd spent on implants for himself seemed like a cheap bargain. Resting as long as he dared he climbed to his feet and the pain in his leg has subsided from agony to a dull ache. Stumbling over the bodies to get his 9mm and wiping the combat knife off on the dead ranger he was ready to move forward but he was in no hurry. He'd only faced one ranger and it had taken everything he had to overcome him. Hopefully he could isolate the last two; if they worked in tandem they would be much, much harder to kill.
Heading back downstairs he pushed open the door and walked into two troopers and a ranger standing in the torture room with weapons drawn. The service rifle he'd left was on the floor by his feet but reaching for it probably would cost him his life. There was no doubt that blood was all over his armor and his disguise was elementary at best. Quick thinking had saved his life before and he needed just a few seconds worth of a distraction. He wasn't sure if they would go for it but he took the chance anyway.
"He's right behind you!" he cried and pointed at the front door. They actually turned to look as he snatched up the rifle as fast as he'd ever moved. When they turned back the muzzle of his gun was coming up to angle at them and he unloaded on the NCR. The rifle rattled like a mad drummer and from that range the 5.56mm rounds would have no trouble shredding steel. The NCR scattered and tried to take cover in the empty room but only the ranger dove out of the building alive. The troopers took direct hits in the torso and head from the spray and tumbled to inglorious deaths as the rifle clicked empty.
From outside a black hand stuck a monster revolver into the building and the Word Bearer dove right towards the chem labs as the ranger fired his Sequoia into the room. Bullets that would tear a limb off ripped into the walls as the former courier landed hard on the concrete floor and crawled the rest of the way into the chem room. Tossing the rifle to the side he pulled out the 9mm and put his back against the wall by the threshold of the door. Sliding down it he listened tensely for any sound to come from nearby. He could not make out the ranger's movements and he mentally cursed them for being too good at what they did.
Risking a look around the corner he came almost face to face with the red glow of the ranger's mask and they fired weapons at the same time. Deafened by the proximity of the gunshots he felt rather than heard the wall by his ear explode and watched his own shot go wide into the ceiling. His enemy gripped his wrist and the 9mm's next shots went harmlessly off the wrong direction. Pushing the barrel of the Sequoia away from him the Word Bearer was dismayed when the ranger simply let it go. The large revolver was taken by gravity as the black clad commando struck a wide open target. The gloved fist landed flush on the Courier's stubbly chin and turned his head to the side.
Seeing stars the escapee's legs buckled ever so slightly and the ranger followed up with a solid knee to the stomach. He fell back onto the unforgiving metal bed frame with a painful thump but his hand was still in the air where the ranger held onto it. Thoroughly dazed and with pain lancing through his back, chest and jaw the Mojave scourge saw the ranger trying to pry the 9mm from his fingers. Realizing that this was not optimum for his immediate future he responded by kicking his own hand from his leaning back position. The pistol flew away from them and searching for any advantage he reached over to grip the still hot barrel of the empty rifle that lay nearby. Sitting up he swung it overhead at the ranger with one hand as hard as he could. The wood butt connected with the commando's face and smashed the riot mask he wore to pieces.
Staggering back the ranger was stunned long enough for the Word Bearer to roll up to a kneel and deliver another baseball-bat like swing to the ranger's legs . The black armored combatant was knocked down to one hand and his opponent fully stood to deliver a merciless swing down on the back of riot geared soldier's head.
Panting in exertion the wastelander retrieved the 9mm from across the room and aimed it down at the unmoving ranger. To his utter shock and amazement he saw the entry wounds of three bullets in the ranger's back. He had been shot in the initial barrage that had killed the other two troopers with him but still the ranger had come far too close to winning anyway. If anyone knew just how tough the NCR's finest were it was the Word Bearer but this was simply ridiculous. The man must have been in grievous pain simply moving, let along fighting.
Stripping the ranger for ammo and reloading the fine Sequoia he sidled up to the front door of the building. He couldn't see much outside with the florescent lights ruining his night vision. Taking a gamble he called out, "Hey Scranton, you out there?"
The unmistakable report of a massive anti-material rifle rang out and blasted a hole in the wall only a foot from where he stood. Darting back as Scranton put another massive slug through the wall he waited for the dust to settle and the sound of the shots to leave his ears. Staying far enough from that door that one would need to fire straight on to hit him the sharp eyed wastelander studied the angle of the attacks. From the downward trajectory of the bullets he concluded that Scranton was firing from the roof of the building directly across from him. Spotting the light switch and confident the angle was too extreme he walked over and flicked off the torture room's lights. The seconds ticked by while the total darkness grudgingly gave way to basic shapes and outlines. As his eyes he could see faint starlight ever so gently illuminating the outside area.
He did not hear any movement and assumed that Scranton was keeping his very advantageous position across the way. Feeling his way back to the stairwell the Courier headed upstairs. He needed something to fight back against the massive gun other than his pistols and searched the barracks room to find nothing but bodies and bedding. Doubling back he went into the dead ranger's room and felt around for a light switch. Not wanting to give away his position he nevertheless had to see and turned it on. It seemed to be an average dorm-like room which didn't help his unenviable situation much. Rummaging through the ranger's dresser he threw neatly folded clothes up in the air in search of something, anything he could use.
Opening the bottom draw he smiled for the first time in months. Pay dirt waited there for him in the form of the ranger's personal ammo stash. Plucking three of the loveliest fragmentation grenades he'd ever seen from the drawer he stuffed them in the handy NCR pouches on his chest. Hitting the lights and giving his eyes time to readjust he carefully crept downstairs. Thinking on how he was going to get Scranton to fire and waste a critical second of reload time he had an idea.
Turning into the chem lab he hoisted the doctor's dead body up onto his shoulder and carefully carried it to the building's door. Setting the body roughly near its feet he pushed it towards the outside. A huge muzzle flash and miniature sonic boom erupted from the roof across from him as a giant .50 slug tagged the body mid-fall. Pulling the pin on a grenade the Word Bearer bolted out of the door and expertly hurled the explosive in an arc that should have hit the top of the roof where Scranton was.
He was in full sprint when there was a gut-punching blast that lit up the base for a second and rattled Scranton's HQ. Skidding just under the threshold of the building the former courier sought refuge there for a moment while his ears screamed at him. He could not see well into the command building but he could make out a number of desks filling up the ground floor as opposed to the nearly empty torture room. Unfortunately as his hearing returned he could still percieve Scranton moving a floor or two above him.
"Hey Scranton, frag out!" the wasteland assassin called out of the threshold without exposing himself.
"Fuck you, you evil piece of shit!" the ranger yelled down.
"You could have walked away, Ranger. Now you're the only one left. Give yourself up and I'll kill you quickly instead of taking my time." he projected his voice out.
"We're fighting for a better future for everyone! We'll never give up!"
"No matter how many men it costs you?"
"I'd give up a platoon to get those robots!"
The Word Bearer started giggling, then guffawing, then cackling hysterically as he leaned against the threshold of the door for support. Maybe it was the captivity and release but he sat there laughing until tears were streaming down his dirty face and chest started to hurt.
"The fuck are you laughing at, creep?"
Wiping the tears from his eyes on his khaki sleeve the Courier chuckled to himself. "You want to know where the Securitrons are? I'll tell you!" he called out. "You're not going to last the night anyway!"
"Come on out and say it to my face then!" Scranton suggested.
"You know why you were never able to find my robots? You were looking in the wrong places! They're all over New Vegas, in little bits of scrap metal!"
"Bullshit!"
"How do you think I was able to level the Strip? And the Dam? Those Securitrons carried enough C-4 to blast the Mojave into orbit!"
"You're lying!"
"Think about it Ranger! All I talk about is getting rid of the Old World! Why in Ulysses' name would I kept a robot army around? I didn't need it anymore! It's gone! There's no metal army waiting to save the NCR!"
"You're a dead man, Courier!" the ranger said furiously.
"I thought you should know the truth before you died." the Word Bearer said as he pulled the primary safety pin from another grenade. "My people are coming for Shady Sands. You can't stop it any more than you can stop the Legion's war hounds. Either way, your people won't last. And you yourself..."
Stepping out from the threshold he yelled, "...Divide take you!" and threw the grenade hook style so that it would land on the roof or near the roof. Scurrying back inside he plugged his ears as the explosion wracked the building again. Standing stock still he waited for some sign of movement or sound from above. Minutes passed and there was nothing but silence and the sounds of the desert coming in. He could hope that Scranton was dead but nothing short of finding his body and putting a few extra rounds in it would do. He would have to head up and either finish the job or pull what was left of the ranger outside and light it on fire just for good measure.
The Word Bearer took a breath and started feeling his way along into the darkness.
