Denouement
(A Fallout/Borderlands Crossover)
- Chapter 20: My Hippocratic Oath, Part 1 -
A/N: So ... I was really hoping to have this chapter done before the weekend was up. I failed. I'm pushing 10k already. So I'm splitting this one into two parts, because I want you to have at least SOMETHING to read.
So presenting Part 1! Part 2 to come next weekend!
I'm also seriously surprised at how many followers I've been getting here as of late. Wow ... O.o Just, holy crap, WOW. Thank you!
CaitlynxVi: Lord no! Don't worry - I love taking random ideas and running with them. Having inspiration brought into the story from a reviewer is the most awesome thing. To be honest, I don't have anything planned for the future. The definite plot points are set, but the in-betweens are not.
This story is the biggest impromptu project I've ever done. I'm basically ad-libbing through the whole thing with basic, fragile guidelines keeping everything in place.
"Feral ghouls," Nora snarled, her face twisted into a painstaking grimace. She was glad to see that it was shared amongst the multitude - the ones that were conscious, at least. "Why does it have to be feral ghouls? Why do they have to be in a damn graveyard? This isn't a Romero flick. I mean, come on!"
Once upon a time, Cambridge was a nice, not-so-little historical city with plenty of flourishing businesses, a beautiful view of the river and was ... kind of touristy. The populace was somewhat friendly back then. Nowadays they were vengeful, flesh-hungry freaks of nature.
Maybe that was a little harsh. Hancock wasn't a freak of nature (most of the time), and Kent Connolly was about the cuddliest, naivest little Ghoul she'd ever had the pleasure of running across (with the exception of, probably, Billy the kid-in-the-fridge). But ferals ... ferals were something else. Something lethal. They were fast, tenacious, relentless, and about as dangerous (and annoying) in a horde as a disturbed nest of yellow jackets.
Nora counted at least nine of them stumbling behind the broken headstones. But that wasn't counting what could be lurking behind the cemetery's opposing hill. At least they were normal ones. For the most part. But Piper pointed out at least one Withered traipsing about in their ranks. That made things complicated.
"At least's it's not a Glowing One," the reporter added helpfully. "Or a Reaver."
Nora shuddered at that. "I could do without a Reaver."
"So ... zombies, right?" Rhys questioned from beside them. His voice was a little too hopeful given the situation. "Aren't they suppose to be slow? So we can just outrun them and be fine?"
"This isn't a Romero flick," repeated the Minutemen general.
"Ferals run," Piper told him. "And jump. Have you - you didn't run into any yet?" His slow shake of the head answered that question, and his audible gulp made his unease obvious.
Nora almost felt bad for Suit. He was inexperienced in this kind of thing - it didn't take a RobCo scientist to figure that out, considering how flimsy he was in handling a (very cool) shock baton that slid easily from between his fingers like it was greased and how terrified he'd been at climbing that rocky precipice beforehand. Given his lanky features and exceptionally long legs (traits that mimicked her own, she realized with queer amusement), Rhys could probably book it across the danged street in record time. But she worried what would happen if the ghouls (or any other monster, for that matter) caught up with him, cornered him ... especially with the incapacitated Vaughn, still limp in his arms.
She supposed it could be worse.
At least they weren't Deathclaws.
Still crouched behind a bus stop booth, Nora turned slowly to face her companions. "Looks like we'll make a run for it," she whispered to them, her eye focusing on Vaughn's body momentarily. He was still breathing, but he was also still sweating and pale. "Hospital doors are boarded up. Windows too. Should be a service entrance in the back."
"Are you sure about that?" asked the reporter, running her thumb over the mountaineering axe's serrated teeth.
She grinned back sheepishly. "Nope."
"Oh that's - that's just wonderful," grumbled Rhys hoarsely. "We could walk into a group of more mutant monsterthings and be dinner - "
Piper chuckled cheekily. "Wouldn't be the first time."
"It's the blind leading the blind!"
"Kept you alive so far, hasn't it?" Nora said, clapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. Business Suit's glum expression didn't brighten. "Welcome to the world of 'Winging It', alien boy."
"I think I'd rather tangle with skags."
"Don't know what those are, but have you tried to pet a mongrel yet?"
"A - a what?"
"It's a - "
Interrupted by the (very rude) thrusting of somebody's finger into her ribs, Nora inhaled sharply and glared at Piper. "Bigger fish to fry, Blue."
"Right." Huffing slowly, Nora looked from the graveyard to the road and back again. "I changed my mind. Let's sneak. Not run. Running is bad." She inched forth to the hospital's dirty exterior, watched for any indications that they'd been spotted, and waved the others over when it was all clear.
Piper had no problem keeping low, but Rhys found it more than difficult to pull that off while holding a comatose teammate. He managed, albeit awkwardly, by slinging Vaughn around his neck. In this case the half-naked man's height (or lack thereof) was a convenient thing. The human scarf fidgeted slightly at the rough treatment, but remained soundless.
They waited for another second while surveying the cemetery. Ferals shambled this way and that, but no mottled, decaying faces twisted their way. No snarls. No growls. No nothing.
"All clear." Nora moved swiftly, silently, using her lean frame to her advantage. "Come along, poppets."
Piper had always been quiet in sneak mode. Rhys was a little less nimble with his added load, but Nora noticed him studying her own motions (clearly she wasn't the only one who realized their similar anatomical structure), paused to adjust, and was copying her stealthy behavior perfectly. Maybe he wasn't battle-ready, but the general gave him points for being observant.
This was probably the only smooth operation they'd had since falling into a pit straight to Hell. No hang-ups. No interference. No unplanned battle. Just a straight shot to the hospital's service door, right around that corner ahead of them ...
Right around that ...
... that brahmin corpse.
And those bloodbugs.
Those bloodbugs that definitely noticed them.
"Oh for the love of - "
Nora heard a whisper - from Rhys, asking, "Are those what I think they are?", before the mutated mosquitoes in question halted their feeding and launched skyward with humming wings flapping far-too quickly for them to follow. And then they were upon them, bee-lining for their flesh, so unsatisfied with their previous meal that human blood jumped into the number one spot of their menu. Four flying insects swarmed upon them. They dove at their faces, attempted impalement with elongated probosci, landed creepily long legs on their bodies to get better angles ...
The crew has no choice but to bail on their attempted silent reconnaissance. Vouching instead to swat at the creatures or swing at them with sword and axe, Piper and Nora went back-to-back in order to better face their foes.
"Fucking bugs!" hissed Nora, electrified sword buzzing through the air. It missed an outmaneuvering bloodbug's thorax but succeeded in tapping on of its wings, sending sparks of electricity to the rest of its horrifying bodice and spasming it in mid-flight. Falling to the ground in a mass of twitching limbs, the general wanted very much to stomp on its stupid head and was denied the desire by a second intercepting insect. "I hate - hate bugs!"
Piper was having far less luck than Nora was - even if her lucky strike was simply a fluke. The reporter was more apt with guns, which she was currently without. Rhys was the only other one who might be of some use here, but he was both preoccupied with an unconscious man and practically dancing on his tiptoes to avoid a particularly determined bloodbug. "Get it away!" he kept yelling helplessly. "Get it away!"
Several snarls kicked up in the distance. In a moment, mutant mosquitoes wouldn't be the only things they'd have to worry about.
Nora smacked away a needle-nose and hollered, "Run for it!"
Rhys didn't need to be told twice. She was correct in assuming that he could move like greased lightning. and boy did he. His swift-legged gait caused Vaughn's arms and legs to splay wildly outward, clocking Nora's head with unintentional force and sending her slamming cheek-first into the pavement, butt in the air. Which would have been fine - she could have gotten up quickly - if a fucking bloodbug didn't spy this prime opportunity for food.
Prick!
"WAHAH!" she yelped, leaping to the air with her free hand on her ass. She managed to grab the proboscis currently rammed into her butt cheek, ripped it out, and all but flew towards the service door. "FUCK THAT HURT!"
Piper was love. Piper was life. Piper was the savior of Nora's lost dignity, cleaving through the offending bug's midsection as it hurtled through the air, then immediately bolting behind her friend. Ahead of them, Rhys wrenched open the double doors and disappeared into the dark corridor behind them. Nora dove into next, then Piper, who wheeled around to put her weight against it as the alerted ferals came charging up.
Despite the throbbing agony of her violated ass, Nora shoved into the door beside the reporter. And not a second too soon. Furious hands clobbered the steel doors, angry howls piercing the otherwise quiet air. The ghouls were a force to be reckoned with, forcing the doors open only for the two women to struggle at shutting it back up. Bloodbug needles poked through little openings made by the impeding zombies. Rhys haphazardly placed Vaughn on the ground, launching with petrified eyes to help them.
"No!" screamed Piper. Suit skid to a halt. "Find a - a broom! Or - shit - something long! And solid!"
Man, he could go fast when he thought he was going to die! Rhys plowed through the room, ripped across metal shelves and tore at piles of junk until he returned, shaking, with a lead pipe. "H-how's this?!"
Patience was not one of Nora's virtues right now. "Just stick it in there!" she yelled. A moment later she forced a barking laugh and shrieked, "That sounded awful!"
Once the pipe was in place, the two girl backed slowly away from the doors. They rattled. The pipe jostled back and forth. But it would hold. Rhys managed to procure a rusted chain and with Piper's help he secured the doors in place. Sure, the ghouls outside continued to claw at their barred entrance, but at least it would keep them from getting inside ... for now. Eventually they would give up and stray away.
The three of them gathered in a circle, panting and sweating. When Nora composed herself enough to stand, she socked Rhys in the chest. Hard. "Jackass!"
"Why?" he wheezed, trying hard to regain the wind that was knocked out of him.
"You knocked me over!" growled Nora, rubbing her sore spot. "And a bloodbug ... touched me in a way no man ever has!"
"It bit her on the ass," Piper jeered. The red-coated woman could only giggle hard as Nora pierced her with a life-stealing glare.
"I won't be able to sit down right for weeks. That's a travesty, damn it!"
Rhys' sucking in air became a difficult endeavor when he could not contain his sudden laughter, so Nora helped by punching him again.
There were very few things left in the world to be viewed as godsends. Kendall Hospital was not one of them.
Sure, it was quiet enough. Uninhabited. Maybe. But it was dark. They stumbled into each other on more than one occasion while feeling for doors and pathways. And the further into it they dwelled, the stronger the sense of danger got. And the more overpowering the stench ... It was indistinguishable at first: something like burnt bacon mixed with foul milk. Only when the group wormed their way into Kendall's main reception area did they become painfully acquainted with the horrid odor of putrid flesh and ash.
Had the room been blacked out, they would have fallen into the nastiness awaiting them without a second thought. They were fortunate enough that a few of the second story windows were exposed and open to sunlight.
Piled high in the floor's center was a butcher's combination of charcoal and disassembled, desiccated limbs. Limbs that probably belonged to some random civilians trying hard to strike it out at life in the Commonwealth, only to wind up here ... burned by cinders by senseless psychopaths. The lingering debris was enough to make them choke on ancient smoke.
"Because that's not a horrible indicator of anything," Rhys mewled in a strained voice, pinching his nose. He stirred as everybody stared at him. "Um ... what?"
"You're not hurling," Nora noted, covering her own mouth and wincing at the looming acidity in the atmosphere. "You, who was all pukey when he smelled rotten crab."
"Yeah, well ... ," he laughed nervously, rubbing his nose and effectively rubbing soot all over his face, "I ... uh ... I'm - I'm used to ... other things? Bodies, I guess. Which is weird, thinking about it now?"
"This is raider handiwork, right?" Piper asked, circling the char dune with heavy scrutiny. "Burned bits of trader clothes ... not a single piece of armor ... Stupid, senseless, and cruel. How could ... why?"
"Raiders don't typically have a good reason for anything, Pipe. Unless it's got chems involved." Using the steel tip of her boot, Nora kicked at a dried leg. It crumbled at the touch, skin flaking away - and now Rhys did gag. "I was starting to hope the raiders all migrated outta the Commonwealth ... But at least the room's cold. No smoldering embers. No heat. So whoever dd this is long gone for now."
Rhys shuddered. "For now?"
"I mean they could always return, but ... " Looking to Piper, the general cocked her head, pale silvery-blond hair falling into her eye. "I thought Kendall got cleared out by the Minutemen?"
"Yeah, but raiders are like cockroaches. They just keep coming back. And - that's odd." She leaned down, sifting through the ashed with her gloved fingers. Nora and Rhys scrunched up their faces in disapproval.
"What is it?" the general asked, stepping to her side.
Piper removed an arm, hoisting it warily into the air with her forefinger and thumb, teeth clenched in a regretful scowl. "See the bite marks?"
She did. They were ragged, sharply-edged, messy, and dotted the flesh in various places with no distinguishable pattern. Hunks of muscle were missing. "So?"
"Think it could have been a mutie?"
"They probably just had dogs ... It's nothing to get worked up about, Piper," Nora stated while waving her off.
Rhys approached from behind. Standing next to Nora, the duo towered over the Publick Occurrences reporter. She shifted uneasily at their presence. "Christ, how's the weather up there?"
"You're just jealous because you're short," Rhys countered, managing a wry smile despite his disheveled, worried state. There was something far-away about his human eye that made Nora wonder where his mind was wandering off to. Probably his girlfriend. Or Vaughn's health. Those were the two most reasonable answers. In all seriousness, he added, "Do you think we're, uh, safe here?"
Sure! Of course! Nora wanted to respond enthusiastically to put his (and honestly, her own) mind at ease, but the truth was a much more viable option. Stepping from one foot to the other, she denied the optimism by stating, "Probably not. So let's make this fast. Weapons out while we're searching. And watch your ass."
Cait would have made some crude euphemism about how somebody already nibbled at Nora's.
She really wished she hadn't thought about Cait.
The power was out. That was a bad thing. But Rhys guessed a building that got knocked to hell and back 200+ years ago wasn't exactly supposed to STILL have power running. That would be strange.
Then again, if power ran off of the nigh-unending power of fusion cores like Nora had said, maybe it wasn't such an unusual concept.
But there was no light here. Pitch darkness in every room they carefully meandered their way through. Every venture was accompanied with a hard strike to the head. Or shin. Or toe. Each of them cursed aloud at least once. Except Vaughn, of course, and Rhys was certain he'd accidentally knocked his bestest bro into a wall or doorway at least twice by now.
Searching for a way to cure Vaughn's spreading infection became a dismal loop of endless circles into pitch-darkness. The only beacon of light that presented itself was an actual glow ... of actual light ... and a moderately-pitched electronic humming coming from a room on the first floor. Like moths to a flame, they gravitated towards it. And when they within visual range, Nora squealed with glee.
Piper didn't quite share the sentiment, groaning into the palm of her hand. Rhys wasn't necessarily excited either, but he was definitely intrigued by the giant, awkward-looking robot encapsulated in the glass display ahead of them, lifeless and quiet.
But Nora was basically a kid in a candy store. For a fleeting moment as Nora hovered over the wall-mounted terminal beside the dormant bot, there was a bigger nerd in the room than him.
"Of course you would fly to the one working computer in this place," drolled Piper through the cracks between her fingers. "Like you used to. In every building ever. Doesn't matter if we're surrounded by ghouls or mutants. 'Oh look, a terminal that needs hacking!'"
If the reporter's jibe was meant to infuriate Nora, it wasn't very effective. The general leaned over the keyboard, happily strumming each key. "Look, it's been two years since I got to fiddle with one of these!"
"It's an obsession, Blue."
"It's not an obsession! It's a hobby!"
"There's a very fine line between hobby," Rhys cut into the discussion, "and mental illness." But he was mesmerized by how quick her hands were moving ... and the fact that she was even hacking to begin with ...
"You really wanna hop on that bandwagon, Mister Roboto?" she chided, shooting him a leer beyond her shoulder. "And here I thought you would've loved this old-world tech stuff. Pffft, fine! I'll add in something a little extra just for you. Once I get it booted up - "
"What exactly is 'it'?" he cut her off with a raised brow. There was no denying it, his curiosity might have evolved into a little something more ... fervent. Vaughn might have been gawking at the display. "And how does it have anything to do with helping Vaughn?"
"It's a Protectron," Piper told him, removing her fingers to place her hand on her hip. "Not exactly graceful, but once they get working, they're like guard dogs for dorks. That shoots lasers."
"Though they're nowhere as near as maneuverable as an Assaultron, there's definitely something rustic and charming about these guys." More clicking and clacking. "They patrol the area and make it secure. Getting this guy rolling will help keep the perimeter safe in case of a raider attack or ... or something. Definitely one of RobCo's better developments."
"RobCo?"
"Corporation that manufactures computers and robotics. They made Pip-Boys for Vault-Tec." Okay, Rhys was definitely a little more impressed now, having handled the Pip-Boy a little himself. "Sentry bots, too .And they helped make Mister Handies and Gutsies."
Repeat, will you comply? "Oh."
"And," Nora grinned, lonely eye sparking to life, "it was my company."
Rhys did a double-take, shocked. "Wait, your's?"
"I mean not ... you know, not like I owned it or anything. I worked for them. Was one of their head programmers."
He uttered a surprised chuckle. "No kidding?"
"Nope. I mean, it wasn't my career of choice, but they basically sniffed me out of MIT. Were impressed by my test scores." A final tap brought her to a main menu screen. Nora gave a victorious whoop. "I wanted to be an astronaut."
"That didn't turn out for you?"
"It did and it didn't. I was originally planning to get on with REPCONN and move out west. So initially I didn't accept their offer. When Nate and I tied the knot and he got drafted into the war ... I was pretty much grounded after that, so I jumped on the opportunity. Which was handy. RobCo purchased REPCONN and I figured, 'what the hell, maybe I can ride this out?' Then Nate came back and we had Shaun ... so I just settled with what I had." Nora scrolled through some of the options presented to her, tonguing her bottom lip. "It was good money. Really good. And they even gifted me with Codsworth when I went on maternity leave."
He rolled his shoulders backwards to adjust Vaughn's placement, blinking rapidly as Nora tapped on a few finalizing options. "I'm ... impressed?" There was no denying the strangeness in parallels between them, with some obvious differences here and there.
Piper elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't encourage her, you'll only make it worse."
"To hell with you both anyway," Nora quipped.
Click!
The sliding glass of it's capsule slid back, freeing the idle Protectron from its encasement. It hummed to life with the flashing of an amber light adhered to its back. "POWERING UP. PROTECTRON ON."
"Buttboy!" Nora called. To everybody's (terrified) surprise, the robot wheeled maladroitly about to face (what face?) the Minutemen general. "Attention!"
"What? Buttboy?" Piper snorted derisively. "You're ... you're kidding, Blue?"
"BUTTBOY REPORTING FOR DUTY, MISTRESS."
"Mistress?!"
"WHO SHALL I ASS-IMILATE WITH MY RIGHTEOUS FIST OF POUNDING?"
Rhys' lips curled upwards into a disbelieving smile. Oh my god, she turned it into a sex bot. "That's so wrong."
"Blue? How did you do that?"
"Oh yeah so ... the thing about being a head programmer at RobCo? A lot of us were kind of ... assholes," Nora chuckled nervously, scratching at the temple behind her unseeing eye. "We did some strange stuff when we got bored. Including, but not limited to, designing unique personality matrixes for our robots that could be brought to life with the insertion of the right code." To Buttboy, she commanded, "Your target is this guy right here." And she pointed to Rhys.
One hand on Vaughn to keep him steady, the CEO waved dismissively at the Protectron as it turned towards him ... and lumbered forward. "Oh ho, whoaaaaaaaah, noooo way. I don't swing - I know I'm part robot but I don't - "
"GREETINGS, DARLING," it droned, undeterred. "PLEASE ASSUME THE POSITION. KEEP YOUR ARMS AND LEGS IN THE RIDE AT ALL TIMES."
If Rhys could have blended into the wall, he would have. But he definitely made sure to keep his backside away from the damned mobile hunk of scrap metal that drew ever closer. "Ohhhkay, you can stop now, Nora! Is this because the the mosquito thing? I'm really, really sorry, okay?!"
Piper was laughing too hard now to interrupt. Just as he was about to assume their lunacy, Buttboy came to a screeching halt about an inch away from Rhys' face, whirred without rhythm, and belted a, "PROTECT AND SERVE," before meandering (wobbling) away.
Nora detached herself from the wall-mounted terminal, smirking. "Don't fuck with a tech, Suit."
"You're insane," Rhys wheezed. He felt himself chortle, though he wasn't sure if it was because he'd been humored or because he was terrified. "Utterly insane."
"Only in small doses," she admitted casually. Nora directed a thumb at the Protectron's back as it vanished beyond the doorway. "Lucky you, we didn't install any added parts, if you know what I mean." Rhys stared her down with a penetrating, mildly hateful gaze. "Don't worry!" Nora relented with a cackle. "I restored it to default mode. Just wanted to scare ya."
"Well, you did a good job with that!"
"Heh, I know right?" She was beaming now, exposing the only white teeth Rhys had seen in the Commonwealth thus far. "It was more in memory of Cait than anything else. She'd get a kick out of that."
Just like that, Nora's giddiness faltered into submission beneath the harrowing gaze of mournful regret. The light from her eye faded, her smile drooping just so, and Rhys found himself with pangs in his heart. Whether he wanted to or not, the Atlas tech found his own thoughts dwelling back to the same place they'd been haunting for the last several hours: Where's Fiona? Is she okay? Is Sasha safe? Please Sasha be safe. Should have brought Athena with us. Should have -
Piper pinched his shoulder lightly enough to drag him back into the now. Nora was gone, having disappeared wordlessly in pursuit of the Protectron. "Come on," she told him, voice taking on a milder tone - warmer, he noted. "Vaughn's not looking too hot. Maybe we can follow the bot to an area that's got some supplies ... It'll be easier that way, considering ... "
She didn't really need to explain that one. In the absolute darkness that awaited them, it was impossible to miss the strobing amber emitted from the Protectron's emergency utility light. Rhys could see Nora's shadow lurking behind it, one hand jammed into her pants pocket and the other resting on her sword's hilt.
Rhys wasn't really sure why he hesitated in following, but Vaughn's labored breath upon his neck stirred his legs to life. "Yeah," he murmured, "let's go."
He was grateful, in a way, for Nora's peculiar eccentricity. Rhys had been able to laugh and jest, temporarily putting his own intense anxieties to rest even though the smothering, dismal reality of the moment returned to crash the party at the end.
The elevator was out. Which made sense, of course. No power. Duh.
Luckily, the Protectron (forever known now as Buttboy) appeared to know its way around Kendall Hospital. Was it programmed in? How was it even seeing where it was going? Rhys supposed it had an environmental scanner, an 'eye', to see even in the dark.
It found a healthy alternative to ascension, leading them to a flight of stairs that was in surprisingly good condition. Rhys really didn't expect the robot to succeed in climbing the steps, providing how horrid its hobbling gait was ... but climb it did. Slowly. And at several points looking like it was about to teeter backwards until Nora put a steadying hand on its top-heavy frame.
He counted the floors as they passed the landings. Floor 3 was inaccessible - the door had been dismounted and crushed courtesy of a cave in from the ceiling above, which simultaneously cut off access to the fourth floor.
The fifth floor had to doors, one to the east and one to the west. Though the one on the west wasn't really ... a door? One had definitely existed there at one point. It was gone now, replaced by several slabs of splintered wood nailed into the wall. Acrid, foul-smelling wind blew in through the gaps. That couldn't be a good sign. Rhys was glad he wasn't the only one who shuddered.
But the other door was fully intact. So was the hallway it led to. Sticking close to the functioning Protectron unit, they canvassed the location, combing through each room for some form of supplies. There were ammunition boxes filled with sparse bullets (just enough for Piper to reload) and handfuls of unsavory-looking syringes and strange containers.
"Used chems," Nora had explained. "Buffout. Psycho. Jet. People use them for the boost they give in combat. Raiders live off of them."
"And not a medkit in sight," Piper groaned, pulling open a drawer so forcefully that it nearly wrenched free from the tracks. "No stimpacks or Med-X or anything."
"To hell with a stimpack," said Rhys, frowning. He thought back to his painstaking crawl to the Biodome, back to the infection that ravaged the empty slots where his Hyperion cybernetics used to be. "What he really needs is penicillin."
"Peni-what?"
"Old-world medicine, Pipes," Nora responded. Her voice was grim, and the way she shook her head settled cold iron in the pit of Rhys' gut. "There's no chance of us finding that, Suit. Anything left over from the old days would have expired centuries ago and - hey hey, don't look so down. We still have plenty of more rooms to skim through. I think we're on the OR floor anyhow so ... don't give up hope yet, alright?"
He was going to try. He really wanted to cling to hope. But Vaughn's body was getting hotter by the second.
Buttboy's surveillance landed them in a few rooms that were ... questionable, to say the very least. Rooms with dirty mattresses stained with blood and other bodily fluids nobody wanted to dwell on. Rooms stacked with skeletal remains and personal effects that once belonged to a civilian (and had no use to them anyhow). Rooms overflowing with empty food canisters - which brought to life a throng of growling stomachs. None of them realized how hungry they were beforehand. Or how thirsty ... or how tired. Constant movement did a good job at concealing personal bodily needs.
Vaughn stirred once or twice, his eyes fluttering in response to his own searing feverish warmth. He would ramble something incoherently before flopping his skull listlessly against Rhys' shoulder once again. When it became clear that the CEO was feeling discomfort from the prolonged load-holding, Piper offered to take Vaughn off of his hands. He'd refused every time.
Rhys was starting to wonder if the fates were out to ensure their miserable demise when they'd come across a final available chamber on this floor. Piper had to fight the lock with a bobby pin before they could get in, but once inside ... it wasn't much different from what they'd already seen. Splotches of rust, patches of old blood (primarily on the operating table and the surgical instruments), bits of human bone strewn here and there. Same old, same old. Sorry to disappoint you.
Except for the machine.
It was maybe the only relatively untouched thing in there. Cylindrical in appearance, Piper remarked how it looked oddly similar to a Pulowski preservation shelter (whatever that was). It was Nora who knew what exactly it was. They way he face glistened was similar to when they'd found Buttboy in his activation station.
"That's a Mark Nine," she breathed, mouth hanging slightly agape. "Do you know how rare those are?"
"I don't even know what it is, so, uh, no," Rhys told her dryly, surprised by the vehemence in his own words. He instantly regretted the flowing chagrin, attempting speech again with a softer note. "What is it?"
"Our saving grace." Nora clapped her hands together and walked circles around the object. "This is an AutoDoc."
Piper whistled. "Oh wow. I've heard of these things, but I've never actually seen one."
:"That's because they usually wind up getting scrapped. I don't imagine a lot of people nowadays actually take these things for what they are, or even know how to use them. I mean," Nora ran her hand along a few deep grooves probably originating from an axe, "looks like the raiders did a number on it, but it should still work." Rolling open the capsule, the general released a relieved sigh. "At least there's no damage to the interior ... "
Rhys jumped straight to the point. "Will it cure infection?"
"It should, yeah. These things produce their own medicine from preserved ingredients stored ... somewhere. They're highly efficient like that. It'll do a full blood work on you, too. Complex operation can go completely unmanned by humans. Total marvels. Need a triple bypass surgery? No problem! In and out in one day, usually within under an hour."
He was sure his knees wobbled, though he didn't know if it was because he was tired or because he was overjoyed. "Ohhh, awesome, thank god."
Unslinging Vaughn from his precarious perch, Piper helped steady the unconscious man and they both approached the AutoDoc. Nora cut them off with a sharp whistle. "That's not gonna work," she informed them, working her lower jaw in deep thought.
"Why not?"
"Well, I don't know if you noticed or not, but there's no power."
Rhys found himself miffed beyond repair. Fire seared his gullet, irritation flaring his troubled mind into overdrive. "Then why did you even announce - "
"We've got a fusion core, remember?" Oh ... right ... right? "So all we need to do if find the generator."
"It's too dark to see anything."
Nora's thin-lipped response indicated her knowledge of the same. He watched her eyebrows lower, gnawing her lower lip in concentration. They could always order the Protectron to lead them on. But that thing was ... well, it sure as hell wasn't fast.
"Hrmph," the general grunted, though it wasn't much of an answer. Nora gathered up the rucksack from where she'd dropped it on the ground and indicated Piper with an elongated index finger. "Piper, a favor?"
"What's shaking, Blue?"
"I want you to stay here with Vaughn." Rhys opened his mouth to protest, wishing to voice his desire to remain behind instead. Nora waved him without a second glance. "She's armed. And ... well, honestly Suit, she can fight." The way she tried to lighten her emphasis on the last word showed that she was trying not to rub his combat ineffectiveness in his face. Rhys felt scorned nonetheless. "You know. In case of danger. And really, you're a nerd. So in case I get frick-a-fried or something, you can back me up. I'm assuming you can hack, right?"
"You weren't the only programmer," he answered, and her pleasantly surprised smile made him feel a little better. "Former middle manager, thank you very much."
"Former?"
"Yep." Rhys grinned, unable to contain his gloating need. "Now I own a company."
"Oh hooooo, look who got all high and mighty all of a sudden," Nora poked fun. "Careful getting on that high horse, boyo. Your head might go through the ceiling."
"As interesting as this budding kinship is," butted in Piper, still keeping Vaughn steady in her grip, "might we act on the situation at hand? Vaughn's not getting any better just standing here." She nudged at Rhys' foot with her boot. The CEO released his bro rather reluctantly, leaving him entirely in the care of the reporter. "What do I do when the power comes back on?"
"Wait for us?" Nora's answer sounded laced with uncertainty. "Or mash a lot of buttons ... I, uh, I honestly don't know how these things work? So ... I mean, if you can figure it out until we get back ... ?"
Poor Vaughn. If he was awake, he could have offered his input on the situation.
"Sounds easy enough."
"Easy. Sure." Nora brisked past Rhys, tugging on his elbow as she passed. "C'mon, let's go hunting."
"But it's - it's still dark."
"Yeaaaah ... We'll figure something out."
If by 'figuring something out', Nora meant they would trip over one another in the hallway, then she was onto something. The Protectron stayed behind: an excellent choice that left them with no illumination whatsoever. Rhys traced his human hand on the wall to keep from accidentally falling into a room and getting lost.
They'd been walking for a while now. Rhys figured they were getting closer to the stairwell, when Nora grabbed at his arm again and led him, blinded, into what he could only assume was another room. His bony hip bumped a desk and the CEO erupted into a fray of curses.
Nora laughed. "First time I've heard you swear yet!"
"Not funny," Rhys hissed through clenched teeth, gently running his knuckles where the bruise would shortly form. He heard metal striking ... something ... and fire flickered from Nora's clenched palm. "Where'd you get the lighter?"
"Found it downstairs." She dropped the knapsack, rummaging amongst it's contents.
"And, uh, what are we doing here?"
The silvery-haired woman didn't answer. Instead she produced a screwdriver and some wire cutters. Then she nodded to Rhys' chrome-plated digits. "Lemme see?"
Heavy insecurity kicked in. Rhys drew back, much to Nora's dismay. "N-No, why?" he stammered, angling himself so that his metallic arm was out of reach. In a flash he recalled glowing eyes and sharpened teeth crunching down upon the titanium allow hand. "It's kind of - I don't know if - "
For an instant he thought Nora might retract into frustration or seize his limb without his permission. Instead she exhaled slowly, meticulously forming the words in her brain before voicing them to the world. "Look, that light on your palm could be useful. I don't really feel like falling to my death or some unseen collapsed floor, okay? Plus ... " Pausing, the Minutemen leader looked away, lips pursed together. "I ... kind of owe you. I did the damage, so I might as well be the one to fix it, yea?"
Ice coated his heart. Rhys held his breath, unable to speak. He was certain his pulse was machine-gunning.
Nora's one eye narrowed. "Look, you've got every reason to be scared to death of me. But I'm not - that wasn't me, okay? Not ... not completely."
When he was finally able to find his voice again, Rhys whispered, "I thought you didn't remember anything?"
"Yeah well, it's a little difficult to explain something like that when you really don't know the details yourself. So ... " She could not meet his gaze, but still held her hand out to take his. "Hand? Please?"
He felt like he was going to regret this decision, but getting his palmar LED fixed was better than the alternative. Rhys took the lighter from her with his organic hand to maintain lighting. It was a good minute until he was able to bring himself to extend his metal fingers. She took it gingerly, carefully opening his tense grip and rolling it over so that the back of his hand faced her.
Rhys was glad he hadn't gone and installed pain receptors into the damned thing. He was sure Nora's removal of metal panels would have been agonizing. "You're, uh ... you're grounded, right?"
"What?"
"I'm not going to get zapped?"
He mustered a weak smile. "I thought you played with electricity for a living." But he reached under his metallic armpit and felt for a button to switch his limb into maintenance mode. Instantaneously, his arm went limp. If Nora hadn't been holding it, it would have dropped right out of her grip.
"You should probably sit down," she offered. Rhys, already finding himself swimming in uncomfortable situations, decided that standing was his better option.
Nora worked in utter silence, cutting through overloaded wires and splicing them with bits found from the tow truck back along the river. Burned out fuses were a little more difficult to manage, but somehow she was able to make his system work in conjunction with the old-world technology. MacCready, Piper, and Nick all boasted Nora's technological prowess, but he never would have guessed she was anything like this.
It took maybe a minimum of ten minutes. She leaned backwards, hands in the air, and gestured t Rhys with the screwdriver's head. "Give it a whirl?"
He did so by activating his eye the best he could. It wasn't like the ECHO iris that once nestled in his socket, and certain commands would go unheard and unacknowledged. Simple ones still managed. Luckily the light was one of them.
And it flickered to life. Bright white light bathed the room. "Nice!"
Nora acknowledged him with a strikingly minuscule smirk. She replaced the metal panel. When her eye fell upon the newly illuminated teeth marks, she froze. Those had been from her.
Rhys fidgeted. "So ... "
"So," Nora's volume was barely tangible. She followed the jagged cracks with the screwdriver, examining the mangled knuckles that inhibited Rhys' finger movements. This was her new focus and Nora set upon it with rigid determination, gently unfolding ruined metal out from the bends of artificial joints.
"About, um ... About all that ... " She hummed something. Rhys swallowed. "Did you know what you were doing?"
She was too in-tune with her current endeavor to really answer him at first. On the final finger, Nora mus have realized she couldn't avoid it all day and paused. "Yes, and no. I ... It's like I was blindfolded with this unrelenting need to survive. I didn't recognize anybody, but I kept perceiving them as threats whenever they attacked me and ... My body just kind of moved on its own." The Minutemen squirmed a little, as if popping her back, and Rhys remember how wedged in that I.D. drive had been.
"So it ... it wasn't really you that did those things?"
"It was me enough," she said numbly. "Those Captures ... that's what they were called, right? There were moments where I was able to really see their faces, and thinking back on it now I remember some of them from the Glowing Sea. The Children of Atom's main sect was relatively, ah, tame if you didn't present yourself as a threat to them."
"So it was almost like you were possessed."
"Almost. I mean that didn't really start until further in whenever, well, whenever you popped up." Rhys flinched. Nora responded with a hissing grimace. "Before that it was ... I was in so much pain. Everything burned and hurt. I couldn't make sense of anything. I didn't remember who I was. By the time I started hearing voices, I was pretty sure I was way off on the deep end."
"Voices?" His anxious question caused her to look his way. She looked almost ashamed.
"Yeaaaah, mayyybe we shouldn't dwell on that," Nora said with a tiny grin. "I'm pretty sure I already sound loony enough as it is - "
"No, let's," Rhys pushed. For all his prior discomfort, it was Nora who lurched backwards when he finally sat Indian-style on the floor. "There was a point where you started talking in a really deep voice. Er, well, a manly voice. Eyes changed color, too." Nora ran a hand through her hair, slightly paler than before. "I ... might know something about that. Kinda been there myself. Minus the manly voice." Rhys redacted immediately. "My voice is manly enough already. That's what I meant."
"If it makes you feel any better, sure," Nora joked softly.
"Shut up." But he laughed. Nora flashed a grin and he immediately felt relieved. "That really wasn't you, was it?"
Nora took some time to recollect her memories. "I wanted him, man. I wanted the Legate so badly." Hands clenched into fists. Knuckles turned white. "Part of me knew he was responsible. It was the only real notion I could hold onto at that point. That if I got to him, it would end. That if I killed him, the pain would stop. And every single time I tried to get close ... " She tapped at her back. Rhys nodded - the drive would electrocute her. "The last time I got shocked, this voice came over me and I lost whatever control I'd had over my body. From that point on, every time I tried to resist, every time I started to realize this wasn't right, he'd punish me with a thorough zapping."
He remembered housing the lunatic in his body. Even though Rhys faltered on trusting Handsome Jack in Old Haven, the A.I. still managed to worm into his systems, hijack his ECHOnet connection, screw with all of his downloaded information ... And thee were several nights when Rhys awoke to find himself somewhere else with no recollection of how he'd gotten there in the first place. And usually with a gun in his hand. Or a knife. How terrified he'd been that one day he'd wake up to find the girls slaughtered - by his hand.
That was the stuff of nightmares.
"Right up until the end when I ... "
"When you ripped the drive out," Rhys finished grimly.
"Yeah, that hurt like a sonufabitch."
How relieving it had been - how incapacitatingly painful - to rip the cybernetics out until Jack's voice and presence was no more.
"Tends to." Nora shot him a strange look. It was Rhys' turn to run his metallic hand through his slicked brown hair. By now the gel was almost completely worn off. It stuck up in places and made him look rather unkempt. And it was smudged with dirt. The 'Scavver Special'. "I'm, uh, talking from experience."
"That's what's got me concerned," she told him.
"Just ... a quick question. Maybe two. Did you catch the name? Did he say his name?"
Nora mused over this. "Handsome something-or-other. Who in the hell puts the word 'Handsome' in their name?"
Somebody with striking insecurities about his actual face beneath a mask? Or somebody who's genuinely good-looking and flaunts it? Rhys had to admit it: Jack was a looker. He'd been envious of it for a long, long time. "Handsome Jack?"
"Yea, that's it. And of course I'm a little more concerned now."
"Do you still hear him? The voice, I mean?"
Nora shook her head. "Gone when I ripped the spear-thinger out. A drive, you said it was? Like a data drive?"
"Yeah, uhm ... there's a lot to explain." Granted, it wasn't his fault for the drive getting here on Earth. But he felt guilty nonetheless. If only he hadn't uploaded Jack's A.I. into Helios ... but it wasn't like he'd been given a choice ...
"You could start? Like ... now, maybe?" And he really couldn't tell if she was angry, curious, or both.
"Maybe when we're looking for the generator?" he asked hopefully. Vaughn was still a priority. They couldn't take too much time away from helping him. Rhys stood quickly before Nora could reject the idea. She followed suit, holding her abdomen with a wince. He'd almost forgotten she was even wounded. If it was hurting the whole time, Nora concealed it well. "There's, uhm, th-there's a lot to go over to get you up to speed."
"Before we go ... "
Rhys flashed the LED her way. It lit up her face and Nora had to shield her only eye from the blinding glare. He dropped his hand with an apologetic grin. "What's that?"
"I'm, well ... " Nora looked sideways, her gaze sliding to the door and out of sight. "Look, I can't quite explain what happened. I ... still don't get it. But I know I got ... your friend. Killed her. The blue-haired chick. And those other guys - up and vanished with a scream." Rhys could have done without the flashback. Maya's empty, bloodied eye sockets burrowed deep in the confines of his wrecked memories. "I wish I could say it wasn't me."
"It wasn't."
Nora wasn't sold, holding the blame firm. "Still me enough. And I fucked up your arm. Leg too, if I remember correctly. I'm ... I'm sorry. To have caused you that kind of ... really ... " She trailed off. Rhys had clenched his human hand into a fist, holding it out in front of her. She couldn't quite register the gesture fast enough. "Are you seriously ... ?"
There was no denying that Maya had been one of the few decent Vault Hunters to back him up, unwilling to cater Lilith's (rather justified) accusations of Hyperion conspiracy. She'd even managed to get Mordecai and Brick to let up. He took comfort in the knowledge that those last two, plus Zer0, weren't dead but somewhere else. Yes, Rhys felt horrible guilt and a sense of loss. Yes, he was aware that Nora, in her uncontrollable Siren-beast state, had taken the lives of innocents with a second thought ...
But it wasn't her. Not completely.
Few things in the world were black and white. Only shades of gray.
"C'mon, don't leave me hanging," he coerced, pushing the fist towards her a little. "Come ooooooon!"
"You really want me to brofist you?"she burst, laughing hard, incredulously.
Rhys waved his appendage a little more. He would not be refused. And he was relatively sure his face was looking a little more constipated by the second (since Sasha made it clear that was how he appeared when he thought or tried too hard).
Nora was unable to resist. Her own whitened fist clashed lightly against his. "That's terrible. You're terrible. What a tool."
"Takes a tool to fist bump a tool, Tool."
"So you ripped your arm off?"
"Yep."
"Eye, too?"
"Well, just the wiring ... "
"Still. You shoved a glass shard in your eye. One might think you were wanting sharper vision. Aha!"
"Terrible!"
"Buuuuuuuut you're laughing."
Crossing back into the stairwell (now armed with Rhys' fully functioning palmar light, thank god), the two had climbed to the sixth floor. The eastern door was defunct here. Crushed by what they could only assume was another cave-in. So they'd gone through the western entrance ... which led to several more cave-ins and a surprising amount of defunct machine-gun turrets.
Past those, a few hanging corpses (now skeletons), and through a pair of double-doors ... and they were looking right down a huge pit. A pit. They;d leaned over, whistled, chucked down a rock to see how deep it was. Not a very far fall, considering cliffs and whatnot, but they sure as hell wouldn't survive if they'd decided to go all 'geronimo!' and leap down.
It took long while to figure out how to descend from one floor to the other without any actual ... floor. Or stairs. There were jury-rigged things and planks of wood meant to be connective walkways and steps, all of which creaked and cracked beneath their weight. But no sign of life. And no generator.
"I can't imagine what it must've been like to crawl back to the Dome," Nora continued.
"A week's worth of agony, fever, starvation and dehydration was what it was," Rhys responded. "I don't know how many times I blacked out. Was pretty sure I wasn't going to make it."
"What kept you going?"
The romantic part of him would have said Sasha, but at the time he'd thought she'd left him to die on Helios. Every time he thought of her dreadlocks, or her scent, her smile or bubbling laugh sent his heart into palpitations and crushing pain. (They did the same thing now, but for completely different reasons: anxiety for her safety, the longing to feel her warmth or the brush of her lips ... ) "I was worried about Vaughn. And, I dunno, I was too stubborn to die."
"Sounds familiar," Nora chuckled.
"Yeah, Nicky told me a lot about your excursions. Broken bones and still kicking it."
"What can I say? I'm from a tenacious bloodline. We don't back down."
When they got to (what they thought was) the second floor(?), it became clear they weren't alone. A deep, haggard breathing gasped below. Weak. Feeble. Rhys shone the light down but could find nothing. "That doesn't make me feel secure," he whispered.
"It doesn't sound very strong, does it?" Nora said helpfully, picking up a chipper tone. She was definitely strange - switching from downright brooding earlier to upbeat and eager. "Might be a mole rat. Nothing to really worry about there. C'mon."
Aided by Rhys' glowing hand, they came across a rolled up rope ladder. Nora kicked it over the edge, and the Atlas CEO gave one final sweep of their next destination. "That doesn't look ... savory, does it?"
There was a cage on the floor. It was large enough to fit a brahmin, but it's only occupant was a human skeleton slumped against the back.
Nora wasn't impressed. "Raiders," she said, as if the word alone was the answer for everything horrific blessing the crumbling walls surrounding them.
Rhys searched a little more. His human eye lit up at the sight of some kind of machine tucked away into a partially concealed corridor. "There's something!" he chimed.
She mirrored his expression. "And that's what we're looking for."
No sight of the thing that was wheezing ... so they took it as a slightly tenuous all-clear. Nora did the honors of descending first. Rhys brightened her path, staring down as he stepped warily onto the rope and only relaxing when his skag skin shoes touched dirt. Whatever floor had existed here was long gone, replaced by mounds of torn topsoil and clobbered stone. Dirt and junk piled up in the corners. It was much the same in the corridor, though the floor was intact linoleum and the walls were surprisingly clean.
They approached the generator. No sooner did they get there than Nora was on her knees again, digging, once more, through the knapsack. "And this is why I hoard," she spoke casually, retrieving the fusion core.
"Admittance is the first step, Nora." A middle finger flew his way. So did the core. Rhys fumbled with it, gasping. "The hell - "
"Do the honors?"
"Hah! I'm flattered! Should have worn a tie."
Nora grabbed her ridiculously long blue one possessively. "You can't have mine," she growled adamantly.
"Pffft, I like red ones better anyway." Let's see ... Rhys turned to the generator. It wasn't hard to figure out what went where. Inserting the core went smoothly. A series of buttons lit up. He slapped the large red one with the word 'POWER' etched above it.
And the hospital whirred to life.
Lights all along the walls and ceiling strummed into brilliance. A soft yellow glow cast shadows all around them but made so many more things clear to them. Somewhere out of sight, a ventilation system kicked in. The stale air was replaced with a cool, refreshing breeze. A pair of electric doors to their life clicked - locked, if they hadn't been already. No problem. There was a button to open it if it came to it.
Which it might ...
No.
Which it was going to.
Among all the things revealed by the sudden rekindling of old electronics was the owner of those hoarse, growling breaths. And it was close now - closer than it had been. Huge, lumbering steps approached from behind, honing in on their location. Nora turned first. Her eye widened, lips peeling back and teeth slamming down. "Ffffffff!"
He maybe misjudged her reflexes. Not anymore! In a frantic display of survival mode, Nora slammed the door's button, yanked Rhys by the collar, slung him through the double doors and dove in after him. He struck the ground hard with an, "Ooomph!" and his Synth eye crackled to activity, indicating just how much of a shitty situation they were about to get into ...
Because it was either deal with the hulking mass of a Deathclaw or die from radiation poisoning.
Decisions, decisions.
Leaping headfirst into a hall littered with yellow and white toxic waste barrels was, admittedly, not one of her brighter ideas. But Nora figured it was better than getting ripped into itty bitty pieces by a very hungry Deathclaw.
It was too big to fit into their location, though it certainly tried. But the creature's shoulders were too stocky and broad. Maybe if it angled itself properly ... but even that didn't work. It only succeeded in getting caught. Squirming, growling, and hissing, angry teeth snapped, spittle spewed, hot breath splashed against their faces. The both of them scuttled backwards into more danger, as Rhys' squeaking informed her that the radiation levels were sure as shit not decreasing the further in they went.
"Total bullshit," Nora snapped. She glanced down the hallway.
"Stairs!" Rhys gasped, pointing frantically and closing his metallic hand to shut off the LED. "Maybe we can get out!"
"Yeah, but we chained the only door we can get back into! Also, ghouls!"
"Son of a - " There wasn't much of an option. They would have to get past the Deathclaw somehow. "How the hell did it even get in here?"
"Maybe they were feeding it?" Nora suggested. Not that it mattered. The creature's fangs gnashed together again, blind eyes whirling hungry anticipation. It managed to wriggle free from its confines and stalked just beyond the door, hissing and panting. Closer observation granted them the vision of emaciation. Ribs poked through mottled scales. The long, lanky limbs were thinner than what was considered healthy for a monstrous mutation of the Commonwealth.
So it was starving.
Maybe it was slow, too. Nora wasn't going to find out She sure as hell wasn't going to try and run across to the rope ladder. But the longer they lingered, the more poisoned they would get ... She could hold out for longer than a typical human. But what about Rhys? He might succumb.
"What's the readout?" she asked him.
"+12 RADS a second," he responded shakily.
"Shit, stay here!"
"Where would I go?" he called back to her, but Nora was on her feet and moving.
There were rooms in this hall. Maybe there was something useful. Raiders were usually too chem-bound to make clear decisions, but even the most idiotic one would avoid dancing in a radiation bath. So maybe they didn't come through here. And maybe whatever lingered before still remained, unlooted, for them to fiddle with now.
Luck, today, was very fickle. At least this time, it was looking out for them.
In the first room was a yellow chest. No lockpicking required, thank heavens. And full of items. Usefuls. Armor. Ammunition. As much as she wanted to grab them and stockpile, they weren't what she was looking for.
But there were frag mines.
"Oh you wonderful ... !" Nora slung one up to her lips and kissed it deeply. "I love you I love you I love you - "
"Nora?!'
"Coming!"
She returned to Rhys' side. He didn't look much better than before, but she was having a hard time figuring out if he was pale because of fear or because of radiation. The Deathclaw had ambled away, but kept close enough to whirl in a moment's notice.
Nora crouched down and thrust the frag mines into Rhys' confused arms. "So, I'm going to show you how to work these."
"Why?" he demanded, plucking one from the pile to examine it.
"Because I'm going to run out there and distract Claw n' Tooth. And while I'm doing that, you're gonna lay these down at the entrance."
Rhys swallowed. Hard. "You're kidding."
"Would you rather be glowing soup?" When he went silent, Nora took the reigns. "See this button?" she asked him, pointing to a little yellow circle. "When you're ready to throw it, push that. Then chuck it. And make sure you stay clear of them afterwards." Nora straightened, popped her back, grimaced against the burning sensation of her abdomen's festering hole. "Ready?"
"Ha ... ha ... honestly, no!"
"So we're in the same boat, then!" She shot him a wink. "Remember, we're n the world of 'Winging It'!"
Gloved hands clapped together. Nora inhaled a trembling breath. Game time ... let's do this!
If there was one good thing about their shared wireframe bodies, it was that it meant they were nimble-footed and flexible. She was glad she wasn't huge, like Strong, or cumbersome, like Danse in his power armor. But she wasn't happy about being the group's primary scout. First to lead, first to die. What a life.
I hate my life.
Zipping into view, Nora bounded into the main arena. Dirt clouds kicked up beneath her boots. (Rhys was on his feet, fumbling with butterfingers at first but easing himself into a repetitive motion after the first mine was thrown.) She whistled. The Deathclaw spun. It lowered, bristling, haunches at the ready. Nora hadn't been prepared for it to leap. Ducking just in time, she could feel the dew-claws raze slightly across her back and wondered if it had torn through her Silver Shroud jacket.
No time to dwell on that!
Her legs sprung into action before her brain could conceive the activity. The motion kept the Deathclaw's attention on her and not on Rhys. The tail swung outwards, aiding it's pinpoint turn. The moment it touched the earth, it was charging and Nora wasn't sure if she was going to be fast enough -
There was another entrance to the corridor ahead. She jumped into it, hung left, and ran. So too did the Deathclaw. Lighter than the average meat-grinder though it may have been, the creature was still heavy as hell. Momentum forced it into a slamming collision. The whole world shook.
Nora took the corner too fast and slid, nearly losing her footing. She was happy for quickened response-time, using her hands to steady herself back into a solid dash. Earth-shattering footfalls signaled the Deathclaw's recovery and it tore after her with newfound hatred, roaring all the way.
Back to the double doors ... the generator was ahead ... the mines were set. Nora held her breath. Ten feet, eight, nine ... At five, she leaped. Her boots cleared the mines but they still sensed her close proximity and began beeping frantically. She tucked and rolled past Rhys, who, to her surprise, flung himself atop her to act as a human shield.
The Deathclaw was moving too quickly to stop now. Nora wondered for a moment if it recognized the sound of danger and realized what exactly it was running into. Maybe it tried to skid to a halt. Maybe. But all she could see was the arrival of scaled legs and lethal claws, stumbling right into the mines as they went off one by one.
Smoke filled the air. The ceiling and floor rocked. Lights flickered, faded, and rejuvenated once more. Those were fine compared to the spray of blood and shredded meat that overcame them like a red tsunami in a scene straight out of The Shining.
Through gasps and wheezes, Nora could not contain herself ... because while, yeah, it sucked that they were coated in Deathclaw innards, Rhys's sacrificial gesture meant he was the one to receive the brunt of it. And the way his expression melted into one of complete slack-jawed demoralization and traumatized disgust was just too much not to laugh at.
"You've got some red on you," she managed to squeeze past the breathless snorts and giggles.
Suit pouted, rolling off. "So much ... grossness ... " He stood with a struggle, held his arms out to his sides and gave a little wriggle. Chunks of Deathclaw flesh fell off him in sloppy heaps that splooshed onto the ground. Rhys' entire backside was positively soaked with blood. "Second time in my life this hap - I can't - hngghhh - "
He started to heave towards the demolished Deathclaw carcass. Nora jumped up in time to steer him away. "Hey now, don't need you spewing in our dinner."
She was pretty sure that made him puke harder.