Aqua Vitae 14
Fletcher entered the shadow-filled foyer first, guns blazing. Jackrum followed, watching the Wanderer's three-round bursts neatly cutting down their opposition. The only light was provided by the fires contained neatly in rusted oil barrels. Sandbags, now soaked with mutant blood had been piled strategically, incorporating fallen pillars into the defensive formation. Jackrum knew that if the defense had been manned properly, any intruder coming through the small door would have been forced to run a gauntlet with fire coming in from three different positions. Fortunately Fletcher's quick trigger finger prevented any of them from doing more than reacting to the sudden flow of Talon Company mercenaries. One lucky mutant managed to get a shot off as its own forehead was riddled with bullets. It went high and hit the doorframe above Jackrum's head.
At the far end of the hall was a doorway leading into the interior of the Capitol building., hidden behind another sandbag blockade. Five mutants came pouring out of it, launching a confused counter, trying to push the mercs out. Three of them were carrying assault rifles and Fletcher cut them down immediately. A fourth vaulted over the sandbags and rushed the group, brandishing a hammer. In one smooth motion, Fletcher dodged the clumsy hammer strike, leaped up at the mutant, drawing his combat knife, stabbed it in the neck, landed on the ground, shouldered his assault rifle and gunned down the fifth mutant, who had readied a grenade.
"Fletcher, hold them back!" Jackrum ordered. The boy took cover beside the door and began firing down the hallway. Jackrum turned back to the talon company mercs, recalling Burke's orders. "Anyone wearing Talon Company armour, stay here and hold this position." He ordered. "This is our exit. The rest, come with me."
The mercs dressed in unmarked combat armour stepped forward. Some of them were wearing grim expressions, and all of them keeping a careful eye on Fletcher, who was holding the hallway by himself. Jackrum ordered them to strip the dead mutants of ammunition, then moved to join the Wanderer.
Fletcher nodded at him, pausing to reload. The veteran poked his head out into the hallway and took a quick look. Shadows obscured most of the offices, cut by the occasional hanging light fixture. He could see hulking shapes moving beyond the sparse pools of light.
He motioned his team over and whispered a fast set of instructions; "Teams of two. Keep out of the light. When you move, keep low, when you shoot, keep high. I don't want any friendly fire. Cover eachother. Trigger discipline. Don't shoot unless you have a target. How many people here have shotguns?"
Four mercenaries raised their hands.
"You guys sweep any rooms we pass. I want nothing sneaking up behind."
The team moved slowly through the upper floor, neatly cutting down the minimal opposition, and making Jackrum thankful that he was traveling with an experienced group. Oddly enough, though the boy's contributions had already made him an invaluable asset, Fletcher was the odd man out. He was clearly uncomfortable working with a group, and more often than not, elected to disappear into the maze of offices and hallways, working by himself. Even as Jackrum's team was moving silently into the bowels of the Capitol Building, they could hear his strict three-round bursts echoing through the hallways, accompanied by the comforting screams of dying supermutants. Then he would rejoin them, stepping out of some near-invisible side-door. Jackrum had no doubt that he was the reason for the ease of their advance.
At last they reached The Dome. Jackrum had been there before, but it was clear that no one else in the groups, save for Fletcher, had made it that far into the building. They did not have time to admire the enormous, cathedral-like room. Bodies and weapons from a former Talon Company team were scattered across the floor. Most of them had been crushed to death. As Jackrum neared the end of the hallway, an enormous green set of legs blocked their view. Jackrum waved at his squad and they all crouched. None of them said a thing, but he knew what they were all thinking, and he could see their faces.
A behemoth. The rarest and most mysterious of the supermutants. Giant monsters standing up to twenty feet tall, the lumbering titans were oddities of the wasteland. Too stupid to rule, but too powerful to die. Many myths and tales existed to explain why a select few of the supermutants were so huge. Everything from simple irradiation to black magic. Jackrum's own personal opinion was that some of them just didn't stop growing. The smart mercs avoided them. The stupid ones didn't live long enough to learn the lesson.
As for those in Jackrum's position…
He sat back and sighed, watching the colossus stomp around the inside of the dome. Even from his vantage point, Jackrum could feel the floor shaking. Every so often, it would let out a great bellow, making the walls rumble. The veteran pulled out another cigarette, using the butt of his last one to light it. The squad sat patiently, waiting for instructions. Fletcher moved forward and sat down beside him.
"I can take it down."
The monster roared, causing the entire team to clutch their weapons tighter. Jackrum blew a smoke ring. "You're good kid. But no three-round burst is going to drop that thing. We all line up and shoot it, it'll stomp us flat."
He peered out across the rotunda at the other three entrances, a plan forming in his head. "Fletcher?"
"Yeah?"
Jackrum pointed at the scaffolding which crawled up one wall. "Can you get up there?"
The boy gave the rickety platforms a brief examination. "Easy."
"Good. Get up there. When I give you the signal, take its eyes, and keep it busy."
The boy waited until the behemoth was facing the other direction, then darted out of cover and circled the edge of the dome until it brought him to the base of the scaffolding. He clambered up, scaling it easily. Back in the hallway, Jackrum turned to the rest of the group. He picked out two mercs, one with an assault rifle, the other with a shotgun and a hunting rifle.
"When I say, you two are going to jump out a head for the doorway on the left." He picked another three, "You guys head for the doorway on the right."
He turned to the last three. "You guys are heading straight across the hall."
"Then what?"
"Then shoot it till it gets too close to you." Jackrum said, puffing on his cigarette. "If it gets too close, back into the hallway and wait. The other three teams will pick up the slack. We'll keep it going in circles until it dies of blood loss. Hopefully noone'll get killed."
"That's a complicated plan, Sarge."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Jackrum snarled, "Go charge it head-on. See how long you last."
The merc looked doubtfully at the hulking giant and shook his head.
"That's what I thought."
Jackrum stepped out and waved at the Wanderer. The boy had made it all the way to the top of the scaffolding. He fired a few rounds at the thing to get its attention. The bullets did no more than break it's tough skin, but it was irritating enough to cause the Behemoth to look up at him. That's when the Wanderer let loose six rounds in neat bursts, taking the abomination's eyes.
The behemoth roared in anguish and charged into the scaffolding, causing the ancient structure to crumble and collapse around it.
Watching the mutants movements carefully, he ordered each team out and watched them cross the floor with relative ease. When all four fireteams were in their respective hallways, he opened fire and they followed suit. While the mutant was distracted by the sudden waves of lead, Jackrum looked up, searching for Fletcher. The boy was still on the ceiling, bracing himself in the arching stone designs of the domed roof.
"Hold on!" Jackrum shouted. The Wanderer threw him a salute, watching as the blinded mutant tripped and trampled its way through the corpses, being fired on by all directions. It managed to hear Jackrum's shout, however, and leaped towards the small entrance, feeling blindly for the open set of double doors.
"Back up!" Jackrum ordered, pushing his companions back. The light was blocked out entirely as the mutant's arm snaked through the narrow corridor, grasping at his team. It's giant fingers closed around one of the mercs, knocking Jackrum to the floor. The old veteran turned and watched as the merc was crushed in the abomination's giant fist.
He scrambled to his feet, pulled out a frag grenade, and ran forward, wedging it in the dead merc's armour. It exploded as the fist withdrew, leaving behind an enormous green finger the size of Jackrum's arm. The Mutant's bellow of triumph turned to one of pain. The Veteran followed it back to the entrance as it dropped its catch and got to its feet. It rose, roaring in anger and clutching its wounded hand. The other three teams had grown more confidant with the small victory, and to his horror he saw one group of mercs edging their way into the giant circular room.
"Don't get cocky!" the veteran shouted, his voice lost in the gunfire. The team ignored him and spread out into the room. The mutant, sensing the change in the amount and concentration of the incoming bullets, charged wildly at the exposed team.
"Fletcher!" Jackrum shouted in desperation.
The boy leapt, drawing his combat knife, falling a good twenty feet, onto the behemoth. His knife dug into the behemoth's back as it reached the team. The monster's back arched as the boy slid down, his knife leaving a long gash. It stumbled backwards, Jackrum's mercs forgotten. The boy let go as he neared the small of the mutant's back, and jumped easily to the floor. He charged forward, between the monster's legs and joined Jackrum at the far end of the room. They both watched the monster collapse backwards onto its back.
"Grenades!" Jackrum ordered. The dozen mercs surrounding the creature all reached for their fragmentation grenades. A collective clatter echoed throughout the dome as dozens of grenades landed all around the beast.
Jackrum stepped back into the hallway and waited for the explosions to die away. A few pieces of shrapnel buried themselves in the wall opposite him.
The Behemoth's corpse was a mess. One of its legs had come off completely, and several of its ribs were exposed to the open air. Chunks of flesh were missing all over its body, and its glazed eyes stared blankly at the hole in the ceiling, unmoving. Clearly one of the explosions had hit something vital. An enormous pool of blood was spreading from the dismembered corpse.
Jackrum ignored the smell and gathered his team together. There was collective whooping and cheering as they examined their latest kill. A dead behemoth looked really good on a merc's resume. He was about to order them to move out, when one of the mercs pulled Fletcher aside.
"Who the fuck are you" the man demanded.
"Former Brotherhood." The boy answered.
"Bullshit." The merc replied angrily, "I've seen Brotherhood fight. You do shit they can't. Who are you?"
"What does it matter?" Jackrum demanded, "He's on our side. Let it go."
"I don't trust him." the merc replied. "He's lying. He ain't Brotherhood."
Fletcher looked to Jackrum for instructions, his expression telling the old sergeant that if things went south, none of the mercs would survive. A few of the group caught the expression, and read it correctly.
"Alright…" Jackrum sighed theatrically. "I didn't want to have to tell you this, but he's a specialist. Brought in from out west to see that we do this job properly. And make sure none of us take the loot and fuck off." He puffed on his cigarette. "I wouldn't fuck with him if I were you."
The dumber mercs stared at Fletcher in awe. The smarter ones still looked unsure.
"He's a little young." One of them pointed out.
"He knows his shit." Jackrum replied evenly.
"I thought he was brought in with the new recruits…" another merc said.
Jackrum turned on him. "I'm sorry, should I have paraded him around Fort Bannister for you? Hello everyone! This guy's name is Fletcher! He's here cos you guys can't do your own damned jobs!"
"They're right, though." Fletcher said. He turned and addressed the group at large. "My employers are worried that the Lone Wanderer is after our package."
That got their attention. That silenced them. The entire group suddenly looked fearful. Jackrum smiled to himself, noting how the team had discreetly drawn closer together. All eyes were suddenly searching the large room for any sign of movment.
"I'm here to stop him if he appears." Fletcher explained.
"Jackrum, you weren't going to tell us?" one of the mercs demanded. "Christ. I don't want to deal with the Lone Wanderer."
The old sergeant grinned at him, "Ignorance is bliss. Now you're going to spend the entire trip looking over your shoulder." He sniffed. "Not much point though. You don't see the Lone Wanderer, he just guns you down."
"He's invisible!" one of the dumber mercs exclaimed, addressing the group at large, "He just melts into thin air. And he can't get hit. My mate Ricky heard it from Garcia. Said his brother saw it happen. A group unloaded at him and he vanished into thin air. Not even a trace of blood. Appeared behind them and took them all down no trouble. Noone left alive. He's silent. Like a ghost! You won't even know he's killed you till you're already dead. You won't even hear the gunshot."
"Yeah," one of the other mercs said, "but Ricky's full of shit. Says he saw aliens. And if there was no one left alive, how did Garcia's friend live to tell about it?"
The dumb one opened his mouth, stumped. Jackrum grinned. The entire argument, his attention had been focused on Fletcher, who had silently moved around to stand right behind the group. The boy cleared his throat, causing the dumb one to yelp. The others tensed, but held their fire.
"Anyone can move silently." The Wanderer explained to them. "The Lone Wanderer has a piece of equipment called a Chinese Stealth Suit. It renders him almost invisible to the naked eye. Completely invisible if he sticks to the shadows. As for dodging bullets, that's speed, agility, and experience. You don't hear the gunshot because he's using a silenced assault rifle. The only one in the wasteland. He acquired it while on an… expedition in the Pitt. He's smoke and mirrors. Nothing more. Strip all that away and you're left with a simple target. He goes down like anyone else."
The group looked at him, stunned.
"Unlike Garcia's friend, I know my enemy." Fletcher told them, "and if he comes knocking, I will take him down."
"That's enough. Let's move." Jackrum ordered, "Mister Fletcher, you seem to know what you're doing. Take the rear and watch for ghosts."
"Hang on a second." The boy disappeared behind the behemoth's corpse. Jacrum caught the faint noise of a knife slicing leather, and the kid reappeared carrying a mininuke. He handed it to one of the mercs saying: "Always loot the corpses. Could come in handy."
It took some time for the team to find the right route; a single nondescript office door with a flight of stairs leading down into the bowels of the Capitol Building.
They exited into the hall of columns, a long hallway full of statues and tributes to the country's previous presidents. It was a large space with a high ceiling, collapsed columns and rubble, and altogether too many shadows.
Jackrum motioned to Fletcher and pointed up at an upper walkway. It would make an excellent sniper perch, and the Veteran wanted a pair of eyes up there. He turned to the rest of the group and picked three out. "Watch our backs. Everyone else, hold tight."
A few moments later, Fletcher reappeared, toting his sniper rifle. "There's a group of humans down at the end of the hall." He reported, "Talon mercs. Dug in tight."
As one, the entire squad breathed a sigh of relief.
"Stay here. I'm going to make contact." Jackrum ordered.
He moved forward, through the shadows and debris. As he neared the Talon outpost, he was forced to step and sometimes crawl over more and more dead mutants. At last, he crouched behind a fallen pillar and caught sight of the outpost itself. The mutant bodies had been piled in concert with the fallen pillars, creating a tangled mess which would slow any advancing enemy forces to a crawl, giving sharpshooters plenty of time to pick them off. The final stretch was clear, but the mutant bodies had been piled against the walls forming a funnel, a killzone. Beyond it was twenty yards of clear ground, and sandbag fortifications with an active turret. Three mercs were on watch. Jackrum could make out a dozen more, lazing around. All of them had their weapons nearby.
The fallen pillar exploded, chips flying as it was raked by minigun fire. Jackrum ducked behind it and tried to keep the pebble shower from going down the back of his neck.
"Die you fuckin' mutie!" he heard a merc snarl.
"Friendly fire!" he shouted back, "Friendly fire! I'm human, you ass!"
"Talon company?" another, far more intelligent sounding voice demanded.
"Yessir." Jackrum shouted, "I'm going to stand up. Don't shoot me."
There was a moment in which Jackrum could hear the sound of whispered orders, then the voice said, "Okay, you're clear. Walk forward slowly."
Jackrum stood up and walked into the light. Several rifles were trained on him, but the ones holding them looked experienced enough to know what trigger discipline meant. Those who didn't weren't anywhere near any weapons.
A light was shone on Jackrum's face and the intelligent voice started to laugh. "Sergeant Jackrum! I'm glad to see you!"
It was removed and the merc moved forward, meeting him halfway. He turned out to be a dark-haired boy, barely older than Fletcher. He was wearing a broad smile, and carrying an assault rifle. He shook Jackrum warmly by the hand.
"The name's Turner. We've been stuck down here for four days, Sarge. My guys need a drink. We're nearly out of water."
"Who set up the defense?" Jackrum asked, "And where's your squad leader?"
"He bugged out, Sarge." Turner sniffed, "Ran for the surface. Got stomped on by the Behemoth. I took charge, set up the defense. But I've been bleeding troops, supplies and ammunition."
Jackrum glanced over to the corner, where a dozen Talon Company bodies had been laid out respectfully.
"We held them off so far, but we weren't going to last." Turner continued, his voice growing manic, "Do you have a cigarette? I'm dying for a fucking cigarette!"
Jackrum produced the pack, took a few for himself, and handed it over. The boy received it gratefully and instead of stowing it away or taking one himself, he passed it out among his troops. Jackrum heard the clatter of weapons as the rest of his squad, led by Fletcher, stepped into the light. The trapped survivors began to hoot and cheer.
"How did you get past the Behemoth, Sarge?"
"Brains kid. The muties fight stupid. You fight smart like you did here, you can take'em." Jackrum motioned out at the defenses, "You did a good job, Turner."
The young merc beamed.
"Listen," Jackrum said, "I'm here to retrieve a package from the conference room. You guys stay dug in, and we'll take you with us on our way out."
Turner's smile faltered slightly, "What's the package?"
"Classified." Fletcher interrupted, walking up to them, "Sarge, can I talk to you for a moment?"
Jackrum glanced backwards at his troops. The two squads had fused into one giant mass of people, all of whom were occupied with distributing cigarettes and other necessities.
Fletcher lead him through a door and onto the top landing of a stairwell.
"Listen," the Wanderer said, "I know you aren't too fond of me, but that FEV virus which Burke showed us, that's extremely dangerous. It belongs with the Brotherhood of steel. As does the Cure."
"Burke gave me a job to do…"
"Burke is not the sort of person who should have access to the FEV virus." Fletcher replied, "He tried to pay me to detonate the bomb in the center of Megaton. That's why I broke his nose."
Jackrum stared.
"He's dangerous. He's smart, and he doesn't care what happens to the Capital Wasteland or anyone in it, you included. I don't care what you think of me, but we can't let him keep it. Or the Cure."
"What do you have in mind?" Jackrum asked.
The Wanderer sighed, "I'm strongly tempted to kill you all, find the Cure myself, and make it disappear."
Jackrum replied quickly, "but that also leaves the FEV virus in the hands of Burke. He'd find out what happened, and then he'd go after the cure. Probably by letting it get into the hands of the Brotherhood, then using his contact to release the FEV virus inside the Citadel. Then all he'd have to do is take us in and clean house. The Talon Company gets brand new headquarters, and since the outcasts don't bother, we'd be the most powerful group in the wasteland."
Fletcher stared.
"It'd be great if we could get that robot working…" Jackrum added, "I bet even you can't stand against that thing."
The Wanderer's hands twitched, drawing towards his combat knife.
"You don't want that either." Jackrum told him triumphantly, "I'd be willing to bet Burke's behind your daddy's Purifier blowing up, too. You need to get Burke, the Cure, and the Virus, all in one go. That means going back to Fort Bannister with me. I'll help by getting the men not to shoot. You let us get paid, you deal with Burke, and you walk away with both the cure, and the virus. My boys are alive. I'm alive. You have what you want… everyone comes out on top…except Burke."
The Wanderer studied him for a long time, then nodded. "That's acceptable. Retreive your men."
Turner directed Jackrum's squad down a second flight of stairs. With Fletcher in the rear, they proceeded through other hallways and down yet another flight. The trip delivered them into the two-story Conference room. A high pedestal had been placed at the center of the far wall, with rings of seats all around it. Behind the pedestal was a single unmarked door. The conference room was empty. All the mutants had traveled backwards to combat the Talon Company Mercs, leaving the room unguarded.
"Okay…" Jackrum pulled out a small map and consulted it. "According to Burke, the vault should be beneath us…through that door. Keep your eyes out, boys." He lead them across the hall and through the second door. This lead down a narrow set of stairs and into a short passageway. It became rapidly obvious why the Supermutants had not ventured further; the far end of the hall had been blocked by debris.
Jackrum sighed. "Guess we'd better start digging."
"Where's that mininuke?" Fletcher demanded. One of the Mercs produced it and handed it to him. "Everyone get clear." The boy ordered. The squad pwent back up the staircase and waited in the conference room. A few moments later the floor bucked and sagged. Jackrum could feel the air rushing through the small door to fill the void left by the explosion. Fletcher walked up the stairs and waved at them, "It's clear."
The roof above the blast point was sagging dangerously, but on the flipside, Jackrum did not have the resources to spend three days digging out the tunnel.
Their passage was blocked yet again by a large security door. A console was attached to it. Fletcher walked up, tapped a few keys, and examined the flashing screen. He turned back to Jackrum, "I can hack it, but it's going to take a little while."
Jackrum nodded. He turned to his men and handed out orders, "Everyone, settle in."
Fletcher settled himself down in front of the console, a pad of paper and a pencil beside him. The Mercs all took seats in the hall and waited. Jackrum set fifteen minute watches, placed in the conference room, mostly to keep them on their toes. It wasn't likely that any Supermutants would get down there. They'd have to fight their way through at least on other group of Talon Company Mercs, and they'd run into trouble with Turner's group. The young man had set up an excellent set of defenses, and so long as supplies lasted, he could probably hold off a hundred muties. Jackrum grinned; the young merc reminded the Veteran of himself. He lit himself a cigarette and settled in for the wait.
After half an hour passed, Jackrum rose and walked over to Fletcher. The boy had spent the last five minutes staring at the screen in dead silence.
"How's it coming along?"
"Give it another ten minutes." The boy reported. Jackrum glanced at the screen. Words and letters were interspersed within the long, nonsensical lines of code.
"How can you tell?"
The boy pointed to the bottom right of the screen. Jackrum read: L###R#Y
"I'm pretty sure there's an 'I' in there, too."
"Liberty." Jackrum said, his voice sour.
The Wanderer stared.
"What the hell else would a government like that one use? Something patriotic and central to the American Ideal."
Fletcher tapped a few keys and hit the enter button. The enormous steel door slid open revealing a barren room with a single table in it, bathed in a pool of white light. Sitting upon it was a small briefcase. Jackrum walked forward and opened it gently. The immediate area was bathed in a soft blue glow, reminding him of a Nuka-Cola Quantum bottle. Heavily insulated within layers of soft gauze was a glowing blue vial, slightly larger than the FEV vial Burke had shown him. It was reinforced in a heavy steel case. Obviously whomever had put it here had wanted it preserved.
"Sarge?" one of the mercs asked. Jackrum shut the case with a snap.
He turned, "Alright. That's the Package. Let's go home."
Jackrum entered Mister Burke's office, following commander Jabsco. Fletcher filed in behind him.
"Welcome back!" burke greeted them jovially. "I do hope you've brought good news."
Jackrum laid the suitcase out in front of the man and backed away, giving Fletcher a clear shot. Burke reverently removed his glasses. He reached out with two trembling hands and opened the case. His beady eyes glittered in the blue light. He reached into the case and gently lifted up the vial, the shadows swaying in concert with the movements of the vial.
"Well done Sergeant Jackrum!" he turned the vial over in his hands, examining it from every angle. "Well done!"
"Where's the FEV virus?" Fletcher asked.
"Oh, yes," Burke glanced up at him, "I nearly forgot about you." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol, shooting the young man in the head before he had a chance to react. The Wanderer's head snapped backwards, the momentum throwing him against the back wall, where he slid to the floor and lay still. He was still alive, however, his eyes were fluttering madly. Blood trickled down from the bullet hole in his forehead, running into his left eye and down his cheek.
Burke set the vial back down in its case and holstered his pistol back underneath his pristine dinner jacket. He looked at Jackrum's genuinely shocked expression. The Veteran was staring down at the boy, trying to keep the fear from overrunning his features
"Sergeant, you are a simple mercenary. You were given a job a week ago. Find recruits for the Talon Company."
"Yessir." It was a useful reply. Jackrum wasn't about to play his own hand. The fact that he hadn't been shot himself told him that Burke didn't know everything.
"I suspect you never would have guessed that your traveling companion was the Lone Wanderer."
None at all sir. Jackrum almost said it. The lie nearly came out. He managed to bite it back. The reply was too neat. Too tidy. It would give him away. Instead he feigned surprise, looked up at Burke, and said in a tone of absolute shock: "He…what?"
Burke stared at him. Jackrum could feel the man's gaze reading him, trying to sense whether or not he was lying. Burke was good. But Jackrum was better. At last, the man relented and nodded. He made his way around the desk. Jackrum watched in genuine astonishment as Burke, with a look of utter and absolute hatred on his face, slammed his foot down upon the boy's nose. The sound of breaking cartilage echoed around the room, making Jabsco grimace.
"Don't blame yourself, Sergeant Jackrum." Burke said calmly, straightening his jacket. He smiled down at the boy. "There will be no retribution. You are too useful. And a simple profligate such as yourself would never have seen it. The Wanderer is devious. Cunning.
"But… the Wanderer's got blond hair and blue eyes…"
"Those can be changed."
"But…" Jackrum motioned down at his wounded companion. "He's too young."
"For most of us, age and experience go hand in hand. Not so for the Wanderer." Burke smiled, "He has been many places. He's seen many things. He's changed many things and been changed himself. Would you like to know the most interesting change, Sergeant?"
Jackrum shook his head. "Not really."
"He cannot die." burke explained. "Not easily. All he requires is sunlight and radiation and he will be restored to perfect health. No matter how badly mangled he is. This headshot brought him down, but it will not keep him down. But that's okay. There are ways of dealing with that."
They both stared down at the twitching figure.
"There is a vault in the wasteland. Vault number one-hundred and six. Anyone can enter, but there is no way to open the door from the inside. Jabsco?"
The Talon Company Commander saluted.
"See to it." Burke ordered, "If the wanderer starts to heal, break him again. Whatever it takes to keep him down."
The Commander picked up Fletcher's limp form and dragged it from the small room. Burke took a seat behind the desk once again. He reached down and tossed a large sack onto it.
"Your payment, Sergeant. Six thousand, five-hundred."
Jackrum picked it up wordlessly and heard the jangle of caps. He nodded at Burke and turned to leave.
"There is another, much larger sum of money I believe is owed to you." The man said. Jackrum turned back.
"A sum of twenty-five thousand caps has been deposited with Mister Bannon. He runs the Potomac Attire shop in Rivet city. You may withdraw any amount you please, whenever you please. It's the finder's fee for delivering the Lone Wanderer to us. Go and buy yourself a drink, Mister Jackrum. You've done the world a great service. I suspect that when my employer's army arrives, he will want to thank you in person. "
The Behemoth is overpowered. That's intentional. It's the difference between the writing universe, and the gaming one. My theory with behemoths is that bullets would have roughly the same effect on them as paintballs or small BBs would have on us. If we get shot enough, or get one in a lucky place, it'll eventually kill us, but it would take a while for us to die, and in the meantime we could wreak some serious havoc.
The Turret setup in the hall of Columns is actually in the middle, but I moved it to the far end.
The door they enter in the conference room doesn't exist either. I added it in. Same with the vault.
I also changed the hacking up a little bit because while it works in-game, it doesn't make sense within the context of the world. That, and I like Jason to have his faults, and areas where his skills are somewhat lacking. I was never very good at hacking. I'd always have to restart the console…
And Sarah's section is coming. I just didn't want this chapter to be too much longer than the others.