A/N) 1:Yup, the Warrior is the name of Fallout Tactics' main character.
2:The same number as they had in the capitol, 250, plus around 50 robots. If you count the outcasts, then they have 320 soldiers and 150 robots.
"Oh my god! Oh god, help! My leg, you cut my fucking leg!"
I wipe a drop of blood from my left photo-sensor and shut off the Ripper.
"I left the bone, it's nothing an Auto-doc can't fix, what I'll do next, however, will be permanent. Where is the detention center!"
"Please! I have a daughter!"
"Really, now? What's her name?"
"Kathia!"
"You miserable fuck!" I cut off two of his fingers. "Where. Is. The. Detention. Center?" I repeat, making it clear it's the last time.
"Oh god, this can't be happening! On the left, fifth door! Please don't kill me."
I kick him in the forehead and get up.
"He has a daughter…" The LT whispers.
"No, he doesn't; he was lying."
"How do you know?"
"If you had a daughter and were in his situation, would you give a man like me the means of finding her?"
He remains quiet. I glance at the holotags.
Knight Jeremy Falco.
Kathia sounds a lot like Khadi, doesn't it?
I reach the fifth door on the left.
It's a blast door.
It's locked.
"Think you can pick the lock?" I ask my companion.
"What lock?"
Fuck.
"Got anymore explosives with you?"
He nod and hand me a plasma charge.
"It's a blast door, sir, it can't…" I put the charge on the concrete wall, right next to the door. "Oh."
We back away a few paces and I crouch while the LT hits the detonator.
First time I've seen Plasma charges in action without being on the receiving end; it creates a four meters wide plasma blob that lasts for just one second but burn as hard as the sun.
How the fuck did I survive two of these?
Oh, yeah, duck, cower, pray.
As soon as the plasma has dissipated, we both rush trough the hole in the wall.
"Seventy seconds!" I announce, deciding one minute and ten seconds is all we can spare. "Go!"
I get the right side and Darling gets the left. The suit's infrareds are useless with all that residual heat so I just use my eyes
"Tangos, twelve o'clock!" Vito barks.
"Got right!"
"Got left!"
Both Knights are swooped off their feet by Plasma and supersonic rounds.
"Tango down!"
"Tango down!"
The room is filled with cells, themselves filled with dirty, tired and sick peoples.
"Sweep the area! Go left, I go right."
"Wilco."
I move forward, ignoring the pleas for help from the convicts.
I reach the end of the room; there is some sort of desk there.
I look under it and find a young Scribe shaking in fear.
I grab her by the collar and drag her out.
"Open the cells!" I order.
"Never!"
Predictable, I'm about to punch her when I notice she too is barely over fourteen.
I don't hurt little girls… She doesn't know that.
"Do what I tell you or I will be forced to hurt you, kid, and you'll end up helping me one way or another."
She gives me a frightened look.
Just a kid, shouldn't be in a war.
"On the desk! There's a command console!"
"Good girl."
I turn around and start hitting buttons one by one, slowly releasing every prisoner in this dump.
Some of them don't even move, some run out straight away and most regroup around me.
Tribals, renegade paladins, freelancers… Perfect recruits.
There's around fifty of them now.
The LT covers the door and signals me we have thirty five seconds left.
"Alright! Listen up! This is a prison break! Those of you who will make it outside are free; once you're out, there's a mercenary force known as Talon Company waiting, you all have a place there, IF you actually make it out. The Lieutenant there and I are headed for the armory; those of you that wish to tag along may follow and get geared there. Fucking get moving!"
thirty of them follow, the rest are slowly circling the scribe, laughing and imitating dog sounds.
"Fucking animals." Darling spits, not looking like he's going to do anything.
Why would we? Dumb bitch should have run when she could.
I'm about to turn around and proceed with the plan when her eyes lock with mine in an hateful look.
It's not her fault, it's mine.
One of the guys punch her and she disappear under a human sea, screaming for help.
"Go ahead, LT, I'll be right behind you."
"Wilco."
I dig my hand trough the mass of angry convicts and grab the scribe's elbow.
One good yank and the kid's out of there, confused but unharmed.
One of the men tries to attack me. Bad move.
Once his brain has been splattered across the room, I turn to the others.
"Where I am from, rabid dogs are put down."
The room grows eerie quiet as the scribe run away and I slowly leave the room after her.
Fucking Mercenary Honor is going to kill me some day.
What was it again?
I am a professional soldier, my behavior, training and equipment shall reflect that at all time.
I shall always uphold my contract and, when a job proves too complicated, always buy it back at face value.
I shall not rape.
I shall not pillage unless my CO gives me the all clear.
Some other shit too, but it was not important enough for me to bother.
I reach the armory a few seconds after the 'recruits'.
"Friendly coming in." I warn before entering.
Everyone is slowly getting geared up while Vito watches the door.
"Relax your muscles, you're not doing the walking, the suit is, you just have to nudge it in the right direction." I can hear one of the paladins explain to a young Tribal.
The kid takes a jerky step forward, then a smoother one and slowly gets the hang of it.
Fuck, it took my boys at least a day of training to learn how to use power armors; he did it in two minutes.
"Lieutenant, tell the troops to begin the assault."
"Gladly. Sir, check out the back of the room, it might interest you."
I do as told and…
This' gotta be a joke.
"Their standard infantry suits are not outfitted with gas masks. I checked."
"Everyone! Listen up I want you all to pick one of those advanced helmets, those with air filters integrated to them. Good!" I turn to the Lieutenant. "Ventilation shaft?"
"Would take five minutes for it to spread trough the whole base and two minutes to get to those not equipped with air filters. After another five minutes, those with filters will start feeling effects and after ten, everyone in this base will be changing."
"Do it."
"Okay, you sorry bastards, we are leaving! Once we're in the hangar the first priority is to commandeer vehicles and use them on the Brotherhood. If you can't drive then ride shotgun you won't make it on foot, that's a given you have exactly ten minutes before those FEV canisters turn you into mutated freaks, so don't waste time! Let's roll!"
They all head left, toward the elevators, but I head right instead.
"Sir?"
"Don't worry Vito, I'll be right back." I assure.
I switch my package to the other shoulder.
Sure is fuckin' heavy.
The freight elevator stops and the large armored doors slowly part.
A trio of bullets squeeze trough the small opening and brain one of the recruits.
"Move! Come on, move you bastards!" I holler before charging toward the nearest jeep.
I throw my burden in the back of the car and unleash a few bursts in the panicked Brotherhood defenses.
On the other side of the hanger, almost a kilometer away, Talon Company is using Enclave fortification equipment like force fields and stationary turrets to secure their foothold with little losses while Spec. Ops. squads sneak in to steal vehicles.
From the sit rep the LT gave me on the way down, we have one tank, two jeeps and an APC already.
Most BoS Knights are already feeling the effects of FEV exposures; some of them are convulsing on the ground while others are clawing at their mutated flesh. One guy, pretty close to my position, is even clawing out his own eyes.
Darling jumps behind the wheel while a recruit handles the gun and I ride shotgun.
Looking out the windshield, I see a group of recruits jump in one of those antique tanks while the rest fills two APCs.
Bullets and lasers are starting to fill the air around us as the Brotherhood finally notices our presence.
"Come on, LT, get us out of the red zone, move it!"
"On it!"
The Jeep leaps forward while our gunner fires his .50CAL like his life depends on it.
It does.
A Paladin narrowly avoids getting crushed by our bumper, but I open my door just in time to hit him and send him rolling under our rear wheel.
"Oh that was sweet, sir!" Vito laughs without taking his eyes off the… road?
A white smoke trail appears to our left.
"RPG! Ten o'clo…" The LT swerves out of the way, but hit a crate, the impact sending our gunner face first in the asphalt.
At least we dodged the missile.
While the recruit gets back up, yelling at the LT all along, I jump from my seat and use the machine gun to take out the missile launcher.
"Move your ass or we're leaving you here, soldier!" I snap.
"Yeah yeah, I'm fucking coming." He growls.
As soon as he's in the passenger seat, we take off again.
My tooth are clattering inside my skull as I squeeze my fingers in the machine gun's triggers, spraying anything ahead of us with high caliber rounds.
"D-D-DIE YOU F-F-F-FUCKS!" I yell, the machine gun's vibration making me sound like some robot.
Bullets clatter around me, coming from somewhere behind.
"Enemy vehicle on our six!" I yell when I finally understand where all that lead is coming from.
The BoS Jeep is identical to ours, except with a closed cockpit.
"The fuck you want me to do about it?"
Good point. I push and shove until the machine gun is aimed at them and squeeze the triggers.
The whole world is now bullets and sparks as the Brotherhood's gunner and I compete to know who's going to get the lucky shot first.
Neither of us does; the other car gets rolled over by a tank; likely the one commandeered by our recruits.
The rest of the way to our troops is pretty clear; good thing too, the machine gun's dry.
Something heavy falls on my shoulder.
"HELP MEEEEEE!" The inhumane voice screeches, scorching my ear.
I head-butt whatever it is that assaulted me and throw it over my shoulder. It lands on the hood.
It's that scribe, from the prison; her flesh has almost completely melted away and arachnoids' limbs are growing from her torso with sickening wet sounds.
"Kill me… Fucking shoot me…" I put two bullets in her face and, with her last breath, she whispers; "Thank you."
My brain overheats pretty much at that moment.