The Initiate: Chapter Seven
- Butch DeLoria -
Butch reflected on his time at Rivet City as he and 'Light-fingers' Hargrave made their way to the Muddy Rudder. It was hard for the vault dweller to believe he had been on board the rusted relic for almost two months.
In some ways the steel and chrome and 'haze grey' paint of the pre-War vessel reminded him of home. The narrow passages and watertight hatches gave the aging aircraft carrier a very vault-like feel. By comparison, of course, the ship was a shabby, lackluster version of the vault, but at least it felt familiar to the displaced dweller.
Besides, being on the boat wasn't all bad. Butch had been serious when he told the little thief that he was going to take advantage of his fresh start. Butch was beginning to believe that Amata was right. The vault dweller had far more potential than he had ever reached as a greaser in a two-bit gang. He still wasn't convinced he was councilman material, but working for Bannon as a security guard would definitely be a step up the social ladder.
Another thing Butch enjoyed about Rivet City was the food – especially the Brahmin steaks. At first, the irradiated meat had upset his stomach something awful. But once his body adapted to the toxins, he found himself addicted to the wonderful flavors and textures of real, un-replicated food. Combined with a couple beers and some fresh fruits and vegetables that Janice brought home from the Lab, it was almost better than sex.
Speaking of which, Butch couldn't believe he had survived over two months without Amata. Two months without touching her hair, kissing her lips, or running his hands down her beautiful bare-naked body. Two months without feeling her flesh pressed against his in the throes of one of their many passionate love-making sessions. It seemed like an eternity, and would have been unbearable if he hadn't at least been able to hear her voice once in a while, and if he didn't have Janice Kaplinski to warm his bed at night.
He had actually been dating the Rivet City scientist for six weeks now, and he was finding her to be a decent distraction from his loneliness. Just as Rivet City was a lackluster version of the vault, Janice was his watered-down version of Amata. The woman was run-of-the-mill, replicated meat compared to Amata's grade A, prime-cut tenderloin, but the scientist had proven to be an endless source of information for the vault dweller. Besides, though she paled in comparison to Amata, Janice made for a sweet and suitable companion.
Butch had made his latest report to Amata two weeks ago on her birthday. He wished he could have been with her to celebrate, but she had told him several months ago that getting older was not something she cared to commemorate. So, as usual, they talked about Rivet City instead.
The report of his progress, like her birthday, also seemed put her in a bad mood… Although she had been intrigued by the information concerning the strange doctor from the commonwealth and his missing android, she chastised Butch for his lack of movement in the political arena.
He thought she would be pleased that he had found a 'doorway' into the lab, but instead she almost sounded jealous when he told her about Janice. It all just provided Butch more proof that he would never understand women…
He informed her that he had started attending services at the Church of Saint Monica as she had instructed, where he had been hoping to "bump into" a council member or two, but so far he hadn't had any luck on that front either.
She further chastised him for failing to acquire his campaign funds. He argued that, because he was still working for Belle, he hadn't been able to secure her 'contribution' to his cause as of yet, but Amata didn't seem to buy it.
All in all, the conversation hadn't gone as he had hoped.
Today, however, his luck was looking up. He had been hanging around Potomac Attire trying to figure out a way to strike up a conversation with Councilman Bannon when the opportunity to apprehend the Hargrave boy fell into Butch's lap.
How that situation had ended with Bannon offering the vault dweller a job was still a mystery to Butch, but it was definitely the break he needed. With a new job offer, the vault dweller could finally give Belle his notice and get a hold of her cache of caps. And, with any luck, Butch would figure out a way to make Bannon his 'doorway' into the council.
Butch glanced down at his new companion and decided to review the plan. The boy seemed like a seasoned professional, but for some reason. the closer they got to the Muddy Rudder, the more nervous Butch was beginning to feel.
"You sure you know what to do?" Butch asked.
"They don't call me Light-fingers Hargrave for nothing, Big Guy," Jimmy replied.
"What about the distraction, can you handle that?" The vault dweller pressed.
"I can handle Tammy," the boy replied. Butch noticed the street urchin didn't use the word 'mother' in any of their discussions. Hopefully this little mission wasn't going to put the boy in too tight a spot with the hot-tempered alcoholic.
"You worry about getting in and out quickly," Jimmy instructed as they finally approached the bar. "Let me worry about the distractions."
Butch nodded as he opened the hatch to the Muddy Rudder and stepped into the low-lit gloom.
Even at this hour, the regulars had already begun their ritual of drinking away the afternoon. Their cigarette smoke and desperation hung heavy in the stagnant air. Tammy was at her usual table in a dismal corner opposite the bar, chain-smoking and doing her best to ignore everybody else. Trinnie was doing the opposite, talking to everyone who entered, trying to score free drinks or maybe something a little stronger.
"Hey Butchie, buy a girl a drink?" It was the same line she used every time she saw him, but Butch couldn't fault the girl for sticking with the classics. You gotta go with what works…
"Sure, Trinnie, pick your poison," he said, amused by the surprise that registered on her face. It was the least he could do considering how she factored into his plans. Besides, he wanted to give Jimmy some alone time to work the girl while Butch went to the bar.
"Uh… how about a scotch… neat." She stammered.
"You got it." Butch smiled. "Could you keep an eye on my friend here while I get the drinks," he said, nodding toward Jimmy.
"Sure, Butch," Trinnie said as she seemed to notice the boy for the first time. "Say, aren't you Tammy's kid?" she added.
"James Hargrave," Jimmy said with flourish. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He concluded by taking Trinnie's hand and kissing the back of it.
"Well, aren't you quite the little gentleman," the young girl blushed.
Butch smiled as he made his way to the bar. He doubted the little street urchin was accused of being a gentleman too often, but the boy sure could turn on the charm when he needed to. Butch figured he better hurry with the drinks before Light-fingers cleaned out every one of Trinnies pockets – not that the thief was likely to find very much…
When Butch returned with the drinks, Jimmy slipped him his pilfered prize. The vault dweller winked at his accomplice, then sent the boy off to begin the second phase of their plan. This phase, unfortunately, involved Tammy Hargrave.
Tammy looked as if she might have been an attractive woman at one time in her life, but that time had clearly come and gone. In her fifties now, all the chain-smoking and heavy drinking was finally catching up with her. Her wrinkled skin was beginning to sag around her dry lips and lifeless eyes. Her short curly hair was rapidly turning grey, dying from the inside like the rest of her.
It took her dull eyes a moment to recognize James as he plopped down in an empty seat at his mother's table. As her foggy brain eventually made the connection, her eyes finally showed some signs of life. Unfortunately, that sign was a spark of anger…
"How dare you bother me here, boy," she hissed venomously, "I knew I should'a locked you in your goddamn room, you little brat."
"It's past noon, ma," Jimmy replied in an extra whiny voice. "I need something to eat."
"Do I look like I give a crap?" she spat, "Now get away from me. I've got enough to deal with without you wasting my time."
"But I haven't eaten all day!" the boy exclaimed, getting her good and riled up.
"Keep your voice down, you little shit," Tammy growled, taking his bait. "You're embarrassing me."
The two were drawing a fair amount of attention now. Brock was beginning to edge his way closer to the Hargraves table in case things got too heated, and even Belle was coming out from behind the bar to address the issue.
As the scene intensified, Butch took advantage of the opportunity and eased over to Belle's bedroom door.
"How about I get you a cup of chowder, James?" Belle said as she reached the table. "On the house."
"How about you mind your own damn business, Belle?" Tammy barked. "My son and I are having a private conversation."
"Well, the whole goddamn bar can hear your private conversation, Tammy. Maybe I should just have you settle your tab and then Brock can escort your drunk ass out of my bar..?"
The drunken woman's angry face softened slightly as she realized that getting into it with Belle was probably a bad idea. She shoved the remains of her lunch over toward her son. Her plate consisted of a half-eaten piece of mole rat meat and a small pile of cooked carrots.
"Here, brat," she mumbled.
"I don't want your scraps. I want Belle's chowder!" Jimmy howled as he pushed the plate back at her.
"Shut your trap you ungrateful little bastard. You'll eat what I give you, or I'll really give you something to be sorry for!" Tammy shouted, and then shot a glance at Brock who was now hovering over her chair. The woman was barely holding her rage in check, but somehow she managed to restrain herself.
Butch knelt next to Belle's door and was quickly picking the lock with a bobby pin. He knew his window of opportunity to get in and out undetected would close rapidly, but lock picking wasn't an easy thing to rush.
"Belle said I could have chowder for free," Jimmy protested.
"And I said not to embarrass me!" the boy's mother replied as she shoved her plate toward him again. "And don't give me that look or I'll slap it right off your face!"
Butch finally heard the lock click open as another series of heated exchanges began between Belle and Tammy. He quickly and quietly slipped through the door and headed straight for Belle's bed.
The box was underneath the bed, just as Trinnie had said it would be. Butch had to quickly pick that lock too, but luckily his misspent youth as a Tunnel Snake had left him with an unusual set of skills. Jimmy wasn't the only kid who had grown up on the streets…
When he finally got the lid opened, Butch couldn't believe the amount of caps inside. He poured them into his back pack, and then hurriedly slid the box back in place. As he left, he was sure to place the bracelet that Jimmy had swiped off Trinnie's wrist near the box beneath the bed.
The vault dweller felt a twinge of guilt as he considered the wrath that Belle would bring upon the innocent addict. It had been Amata's idea to find a scapegoat for the robbery. She convinced Butch that an open-and-shut case would keep the security goons from sniffing around the Muddy Rudder's employees. Trinnie had been the obvious choice. The girl knew about the stash, and who was more likely to steel caps than a chem-head. But Butch had a soft spot for the girl which made his frame job feel pretty crappy.
He carefully cracked the door and peeked out. The bulk of the bar crowd was still riveted to the scene the Hargraves were making. Brock was wrestling with Tammy to get her out of her chair and out of the bar. Jimmy's face was red – apparently his mother had finally slapped one of his looks off of him. Butch felt a little guilty about that too as he slipped back into the main room. The gutsy kid had taken one for the team, and Butch wouldn't forget it.
The vault dweller sidled up next to Trinnie, who was standing by the doorway. Like everyone else, she seemed mesmerized by the Hargrave mayhem.
"It's hard to watch, isn't it?" Butch whispered to her, trying to play it cool and casual as he inched toward the exit.
"It is," Trinnie answered absently, "but sadly, it's impossible to look away from…"
Yeah, that was kind'a the point, Butch thought to himself as he exited the Muddy Rudder with a bulging backpack that no one even noticed.
- Vice President Listner -
Augustus Autumn had proven to be a very useful man for a long time, Nyhils thought as he flipped through a dossier he kept on the Colonel. That time, however, seemed to be nearing its end.
Colonel Autumn had been at odds with Nyhils for as long as he could remember, but lately the Vice President felt like the man did nothing but oppose him. It was becoming unbearable and beginning to threaten Nyhils' plans for the future.
The future, of course, was the main bone of contention between the two men. Colonel Autumn envisioned a future in which his beloved America was somehow restored to its former glory. The man attacked that goal in a Machiavellian manner, believing all his actions were justified if they resulted in that singular outcome. The Colonel's tenacity was actually a quality that Nyhils admired about the man, an attitude that had made the Colonel a superb Secretary of Defense over the years.
But lately, the Colonel was showing signs of going rogue, and the Vice President couldn't afford that. Their arguments over resources and government priorities were becoming problematic for Nyhils. Autumn's insistence on shutting down the eyebot program was just another example of his disobedience and lack of respect, both of which were occurring more and more frequently of late.
Besides Power Armor and Vertibirds, the Colonel had recently added a renewed insistence on building infrastructure to his list of desires. Unfortunately, it was not the kind of infrastructure that Nyhils was interested in developing. Autumn wanted to build buildings and bridges, and restore roadways and rails. The Colonel wanted the Enclave scientists to focus less on domesticating deathclaws and more on the domestic research being carried out at Rivet City. He was interested in pure water and radiation-free food. Food, water, and shelter, he would always argue, are the essential building blocks of America's future. It was becoming all too clear to Nyhils that Autumn's obsession with America's magnificent return to glory was beginning to cloud his judgment.
It was a vision the Vice President did not share. Nyhils wasn't convinced that America had ever been all that glorious to begin with, and he didn't give a damn about rebuilding the country. Nyhils was trying to build an empire.
The infrastructure the Vice President was interested in restoring to working order was the satellite communications systems scattered throughout the nation. In Nyhils' opinion, it was ODeN that was the 'essential building block'. If he could control the sky he could control the country. And, with the right resources, he could eventually control the entire world. Now that, he told himself, was a vision worth obsessing over.
What Nyhils really needed was news of the Prescotts. The new Overseer of Vault 101 had proven to be a very resourceful young woman – even more so than her father. She had somehow managed to infiltrate the Rivet City Science Lab with one of her one-o-one agents. It was quite impressive and would prove invaluable if the Prescott boy turned up there; although, according to the last report that Nyhils had received from his Talon Company mercenary, the vault boy was currently holed up at the former Pentagon with the infernal Brotherhood cult.
Nevertheless, it wasn't really the Prescott boy Nyhils was interested in locating. And, despite what Colonel Autumn and the President believed, Nyhils wasn't all that interested in James Prescott's FEV research either. If there was one area where the Vice President and the Colonel agreed, it was in the belief that deathclaws and mutants were not a long-term solution.
No, what Nyhils was really after was the one incredible discovery that all the others had overlooked. He wanted the one thing that had been the catalyst for all that had occurred over the past fifteen years. The thing that had caused the Prescotts to turn against their vault and their beliefs in the first place…
Nyhils wanted Catherine Prescott's computer virus. The woman had developed a program so powerful that it had taken over every computer system in the vault, and once he got the satellite systems back on line, Nyhils planned to take over a whole lot more than that… But he needed that woman's virus, and he was still hoping that her son would lead him to it.
In the meantime, the Almodovar girl had alerted him to a serious problem brewing within the atrocious aircraft carrier community of Rivet City. It seemed as if the agents from the Institute were taking an interest in the Capital Wasteland again. Nyhils knew what they were after, of course, he just didn't know where exactly the android was hiding.
The Vice President had considered hiring the slavers to ask around Rivet City. Nyhils figured if anyone in the Wasteland knew where missing people were likely to hide out, it would be slavers. Eulogy's crew were the foremost experts in human trafficking, but they were slow and undependable too.
Once Nyhils discovered the Bureau was back in the area, he knew he had to accelerate his timeline. The information inside that android was dangerous, and Nyhils had to make sure that his people found the synth before the Commonwealth Retention Bureau agents got ahold of it.
In the end, Nyhils had decided to pull Reaper off his babysitting detail and track down the accursed android. There wasn't much the mercenary could do about Prescott now that the boy was hiding out at the Brotherhood of Steel's headquarters. Besides, Nyhils knew Reaper was eager to prove himself after he had bungled the vault dweller job so badly; and that was exactly what the Vice President needed right now – a motivated mercenary.
He also needed someone to keep an eye on the Colonel, Nyhils thought as he closed the dossier and looked at the clock. It was thirteen hundred, time to consider providing his Secretary of Defense with an assistant – and Nyhils had just the candidate…
He buzzed his own assistant, who confirmed that his thirteen-hundred appointment was waiting in the executive lounge. The boy was punctual, Nyhils thought, so they were off to a good start already. He informed his assistant to send in the lieutenant, and then the Vice President prepared to set his plan in motion.
The young officer marched rigidly into the Vice President's Office and stood at attention at the edge of Nyhils' desk. He was a lanky lad with red hair and freckles. He had a small town look that Nyhils thought Autumn would appreciate – at first glance the boy seemed to fit the Colonel's mold of an all-American youth.
Yet, on closer inspection, Nyhils could detect a strange undercurrent of something sinister beneath the boy's fresh face and innocent eyes. It was that aspect of the young lieutenant that Nyhils wanted to gain an understanding of today.
"Lieutenant Smith reporting as ordered, Sir," the boy stated formally.
"Take a seat Lieutenant," the Vice President replied, motioning to a chair by the desk. Nyhils was never one to stand on ceremony. He could have left the boy at attention longer, but Lieutenant Smith seemed nervous, and having him looming over the desk was unsettling. There was definitely something off about the boy.
"How was your convalescence leave back home?" Nyhils said conversationally once the officer was seated. "I trust you have recovered from your… ordeal?"
"I'm full-up round and ready for duty, Mr. Vice President," the boy said eagerly.
"That was quite an ambush you survived," Nyhils replied, hoping to get a feel for the boy's resolve and an idea of where his loyalties lie.
The Vice President had been impressed with the young Lieutenants resilience. After surviving a micro-nuclear hailstorm, the wounded officer's first action had been to return to Raven Rock and make a full report. That showed a tenacity and dedication to the Enclave that Nyhils thought he could leverage.
"Some soldiers might have gone AWOL," Nyhils added. "It would have been easy to let us assume there were no survivors…"
"I have to admit Sir, sitting in that cave facing what seemed like certain death, the thought did cross my mind," the young man replied candidly, "But a stronger notion erased those thought of doubt and weakness. I vowed, if I ever got out of that cave alive, I was going to avenge our fallen soldiers. I vowed to destroy the Brotherhood of Steel. I want to crush them. Eviscerate them. Tear their hearts from their traitorous chests and devour them. I will stop at nothing until the Brotherhood is purged from the Wasteland.
Nyhils could see that the boy was getting worked up. The young officer was no doubt suffering from some post-traumatic stress, but his response – albeit a bit graphic and slightly disturbing – was exactly what the Vice President wanted to hear.
"I would expect a man of your dedication and talent to be a major by now," Nyhils' observation seemed more like a question. He was probing again even though he already knew most of the answers. The Vice President had done his homework. He was aware that young Jack Smith had spent the better part of his career relegated to the rugged northern sectors – usually considered a place where careers went to die. Nyhils also knew that Colonel Autumn had personally left the officer out there because Augustus didn't 'like the feeling he got' from the young man. And no one knew better than Nyhils that the Colonel always followed his gut…
The Vice President, however, wasn't sure how much of these factors Lt Smith was aware of. Nyhils was hoping the boy was smart enough to realize that it was Colonel Autumn who was ultimately responsible for holding him back. If Smith possessed the capacity to grasp those intricacies, than Nyhils was willing to help the boy begin moving forward once again – and much more quickly.
"Yes Sir. The Colonel… I mean… my chain of command hasn't seen fit to promote me to that pay grade as of yet, Sir. I've been stuck in the northern mountains on sector patrol for quite some time, Sir." The poor young officer seemed dismally uncomfortable discussing this with such a high ranking official.
"Well," Nyhils replied, finally making up his mind, "As you know, I am in your chain of command, and I see great potential in you. I'm assuming, of course, that you are interested in greater responsibility?"
"Of course, Mr. Vice President," the officer nodded eagerly, "Absolutely."
"And you would not be opposed to reporting directly to me in… certain circumstances?"
"No, Sir," came the quick reply, "I'd be honored."
"Excellent," Nyhils exclaimed as he finally leaned back in his large leather chair and relaxed for the first time since the meeting started. "Then I, as the Vice President of these United States, am giving you a spot promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. Effective immediately."
Lt Smith sat silently in the wake of the Vice President's announcement, too astonished to speak for several seconds before he was finally able to say, "Lieutenant Colonel, Sir?"
"That's correct," Nyhils affirmed as he rose from his chair. "I am promoting you to Deputy Secretary of Defense. I want you to shadow Colonel Autumn. Learn from him. Observe his every move." Nyhils offered the young man his hand and asked, "Can you do all of that, Lieutenant Colonel Smith?"
"As I said earlier, Sir," Smith replied as he stood and sealed the deal with a handshake, "It would be an honor."
- Initiate Joules Prescott -
The metro region of downtown DC was as war torn as Joules remembered. He realized that he hadn't ventured too far outside the walls of the Citadel for weeks and in some ways he had forgotten just how dangerous and devastated the Wasteland really was.
He had also forgotten how hot it could get marching through the waste without the aid of his temperature-regulated power armor. For today's training mission the initiates were only wearing combat armor, and although Joules found it difficult to believe, he actually missed his full metal suit.
The vault dweller glanced at his companions as they marched along behind Paladin Hoss. Roman seemed to be noticing the heat as well, but Pek trudged along merrily. Pek was so amped up to be going on a field op that he seemed oblivious to any form of discomfort.
Hoss took them steadily forward through the rubble of the bombed out buildings. The stocky Paladin had thick, short legs but a solid stride and the group made it to the Falls Church district in good time. The sun was still rising up over the husks of the dilapidated high rises as the group approached Knight Church who was awaiting their arrival outside the metro station.
Church was a tall, lanky man with a mop of long, thin hair that limply framed his long, thin face. He had an air of arrogance about him that many of the other knights found abrasive which explained why he had been assigned to long-range recon duty.
"'Morning boys," the tall knight said loudly. "Welcome to the Suck. Keep your heads cool and your lasers hot and you might just make it out alive."
Roman shot Joules a look that wasn't hard to read. Church was the newest initiate to get promoted to knighthood, and that had only happened about a month before Joules had arrived at the Citadel. Based on that fact, Joules was guessing that the cocky, young knight didn't know much more about 'the Suck' than the initiates did…"
"What Knight Church is so eloquently trying to say," Hoss translated with a scowl, "is that the metro area can be unpredictable. But as long as you don't panic and rely on your training, you should be just fine." Joules couldn't help but notice that the Paladin was staring directly at Pek as he said the last sentence.
"Speaking of training," the Paladin continued, "Today we are conducting long-range recon training." Then to Pek he asked, "What is our number one mission?"
"Kill Uglies, Sir," Pek shouted proudly.
"Killing Uglies is usually more of a necessity than a goal," Hoss replied, "but it does rank pretty high on the list. But what does the Codex tell you is your number one mission?"
"Recovering ancient technology for the salvation of all mankind," Roman answered quickly before Pek could give another wrong answer.
"That's right, Initiate," Hoss nodded. "And remember, we're looking for all technical artifacts. Don't make the rookie mistake of overlooking technical paperwork. There is much to be gleaned from research papers and schematics."
"And don't worry too much about the Uglies," Church added, "An advanced patrol of Paladins cleared this area a couple days ago."
"Recon is mostly scavenging," Hoss confirmed, "but stay alert. The Wasteland is dynamic and what was clear yesterday isn't always clear today."
"I did a little scouting while I was waitin' for you boys and it looks good to go. There's a pile of mutants in that campground over there," the knight said, pointing east, "looks like it was one hell of a skirmish. But the L.O.B. Enterprises building further east looks ripe for the pickin'."
Joules shielded his eyes from the early morning sun and stared east toward the tall remains of a building with the gigantic letters L-O-B still written vertically down its side."
"Alright then," Hoss nodded. "Now gather around for the mission brief"
The boys formed what Gunny called a 'schoolhouse circle' around Paladin Hoss as he laid out the details of their training mission.
"You'll find that the metro area was a pre-War hotbed of government contractors. L.O.B. Enterprises was one of the bigger weapons manufacturers for Uncle Sam, and our sources indicate that there should be some rare and valuable artifacts inside. Proctor Peabody is especially interested in any information involving something called a Tesla Cannon, so keep your eyes peeled.
"Initiates Pek and Prescott are with me. We'll approach the front from the main street. Church, you and Initiate Roman flank around toward the north and we'll all converge on the building's entrance. Questions..?"
Nobody had any questions and the two teams moved out.
The streets and plaza leading up to the L.O.B. building were eerily quiet and for some reason the silence filled Joules with a strange sense of unease.
The trio neared the fringes of the razed Super Mutant camp that sprawled across the south side of the plaza. The camp's boarders were marked with barricades and piles of refuse, while its interior was scattered with piles of dead mutants. Tendrils of smoke still rose from the charred corpses of the massive monsters. Brotherhood flamers had torched the camp and left it to smolder in the morning haze. Somehow, the carnage didn't make Joules feel any less apprehensive…
As the entrance to the L.O.B. building came into view, the sudden sound of gunfire exploded through the plaza!
"Take cover!" Paladin Hoss hollered as he and Joules retreated to one of the nearby barricades of the mutants' outpost. Both men expected Pek to follow them, but the startled initiate had a one-track mind. He was so excited to reach the office building that his first and only reaction was to sprint directly toward the entrance.
"Damnit!" Hoss growled, "What the hell is that fool doing?!"
"He's being Pek," Joules replied. "He's impulsive… and fearless," the initiate added in defense of his young friend.
"He's an idiot," Hoss growled, "and he's going to get himself killed!"
Gunfire erupted again, punctuating the Paladin's point. Hoss carefully peered around the barricade trying to determine the source and direction of the shooters. Joules kept his head down, but it sounded like the gunfire was further north now on the opposite side of the street.
"Got'em," Hoss informed the initiate. "Third story window, looks like at least two."
Joules had his back against the barricade which left him staring out onto the gruesome aftermath of the mutant campground. "Must have missed a couple of muties I guess…" the initiate observed.
"Those ain't uglies," Hoss replied, ducking back down behind the barricade and preparing to fire his missile launcher. "Too damn coordinated and sneaky. It's mercs most likely – probably Talon Company if I had to wager a guess. Those assholes like to shadow our patrols, wait for us to clear an area of interest, then swoop in and gather up all the government goodies before our long-range recon teams have a chance to make a sweep. I hate those bastards!"
As if on cue, another barrage of bullets spewed forth from the third story window. The gunfire sprayed all over the north side of the intersection, ricocheting off several derelict automobiles and an abandoned city bus. The metallic impacts echoed through the plaza with an eerie, ear-piercing staccato.
"What the hell are they shooting at?" Joules shouted above the din.
Hoss ignored the question and instead barked at his helmet communicator. "What's your status, Church?"
"We were circling around the north side of the complex, but they've got us pinned down in an old bus stop shelter."
"The sniper fire is pretty thick," Roman added, "but that last volley didn't come too close to us."
"They're not shooting at you!" Hoss shouted urgently, "They're shooting at the vehicles. You've got to get the fuck out of there, Church!"
Joules instantly knew that the Paladin's theory was correct. The initiate's mind raced back to the battle outside Galaxy News Radio. He vividly remembered watching Initiate Reddin vaporized in a bus explosion, and it was a sight he hoped never to witness again. Reddin, of course, had been directly behind the vehicle using it as cover, but based on what he remembered of the blast radius, Joules didn't think Church and Roman had nearly enough distance between their bus stop hideout and the big bus itself!
Knight Church had obviously come to the same conclusion and he immediately ordered Roman to make a break for a Pulowski Preservation Shelter on the closest street corner. The two men scrambled out of the bus stop as another round of gunfire lit up the plaza. Hoss had simultaneously launched a missile at the third floor window, but the rocket didn't arrive before the mercenaries' bullets finally found their mark. The city bus exploded in a breathtaking display of flame and metal, spraying a deadly plume of shrapnel across the entire plaza.
The Brotherhood knight hadn't cleared the blast zone and he was annihilated almost immediately. Roman had gotten further away, but he couldn't avoid being severely shredded as the deadly swarm of metallic shards engulfed him.
A second explosion rocked the L.O.B. building as Hoss' missile sailed through the window and obliterated the sniper nest, blowing one man's body out onto the smoldering plaza below.
Hoss apparently decided it was safe to move now as he turned to Joules and shouted, "Go tend to Roman while I go recover my lost initiate!"
Joules nodded and dashed across the street as fast as his unaided legs would carry him. Roman was a mangled mess and Joules knew he'd have to hurry to stabilize him. The wounded initiate seemed confused as the vault dweller approached him and Joules was pretty sure the young man was shell shocked.
"I can't get up…" Roman mumbled. He was lying on his back and making a feeble attempt to sit.
"Just lie still," Joules tried to sound soothing.
"I can't move my legs…" Roman observed as his senses began to return. "How bad is it?"
Miraculously, Roman had been missed by most of the major shrapnel. He had plenty of smaller pieces lodged in his combat armor and some sticking out of his flesh, but the wounds were mostly superficial on his upper body. His legs had taken the brunt of the blast.
"Seriously man, how's it look?" the wounded initiate repeated, a hint of panic creeping into his voice.
Roman's left leg was torn up but still intact. Joules was fairly certain he could patch that one up with the supplies they carried in their med kits. The man's right leg, however, looked like a pile of mole rat meat that had been beaten with one of Moira's repellant sticks. But Joules wasn't about to describe that sight to his friend.
"You're gonna be OK," the vault dweller did his best to sound convincing. "Just hang in there brother and take some of this." Joules handed Roman several doses of Med-X.
"But I'm really not in that much pain…" the initiate protested.
"You will be when the shock wears off," Joules replied grimly. Or maybe even sooner, the initiate thought as he cinched a tourniquet around Roman's right thigh and twisted it as tightly as he could. The wounded warrior gritted his teeth in agony, but to his credit he didn't cry out.
With the bulk of the bleeding under control, Joules needed to find his friend someplace safe before heading off to help Hoss with the mercs. He grabbed the straps on Roman's combat armor and dragged him into the Pulowski Preservation Shelter.
The trail of blood was disturbing, but there was no time to worry about that now. Joules tossed a couple blood packs and stimpaks down next to Roman and said, "Here, use as needed."
"Thanks, Doc," Roman said weakly. The transfer to the shelter hadn't done his injuries any favors and Joules wasn't sure if the wounded initiate was joking or hallucinating, but Joules had done all he could for his friend and it was once again time to join the fight…
As soon as Joules entered the lobby of L.O.B. Enterprises he heard gunfire from the floor above. The initiate dashed up the closest stairwell and burst into a room labeled "Archives". As he cleared the doorway, the initiate froze.
Actually… Joules realized after taking a surreal second to get his bearings… what he had entered was the frozen dimensions of VATs! The initiate hadn't utilized the vault assisted technology in a while and he had forgotten how disorienting the experience could be.
Upon studying the frozen tableau before him, he realized the situation looked dire for his brothers of steel. Hoss and Pek were hunkered down behind a large desk that had been flipped on its side. Pek had blood drizzling from a gunshot wound in his shoulder and for some reason his laser rifle was lying on the ground beside him.
Hoss at least looked healthy, but it was obvious that the stocky Paladin wasn't going to use his missile launcher and risk destroying the Archive documents, so he was trying to fend of the attackers with a laser pistol.
As for the attackers, there were at least two mercenaries holed up in a backroom with enough firepower to keep the Paladin pinned down and two more mercs lay dead halfway between the backroom and the desk.
Because he had activated VATs instinctively upon entering the room, it didn't seem as if anyone noticed his arrival. With the advantage of vault assisted reflexes and the element of surprise, Joules decided to attempt two risky head shots and end this conflict quickly.
The initiate watched the laser blast leave his rifle in slow motion, streaking into the backroom and melting a gory hole through the forehead of one of the mercs. His second shot went wide, however, as the room came back to life.
The remaining mercenary ducked away from the blast of Joules second shot causing the particle beam to miss its mark and scorch past the left side of the man's face. The wound wasn't critical, but it left a crispy black burn across the man's face and melted his ear completely off!
Hoss had some pretty fast reflexes of his own and he took full advantage of the cover fire, bounding up and over the desk and racing into the backroom to finish off any remaining mercenaries.
"Where did you come from?" Pek gasped as Joules ran over to check on the boy's health. "It seemed like you materialized out of thin air…"
"How's your shoulder?" Joules asked, ignoring the boy's questions.
"It's fine," Pek replied nonchalantly. "I didn't even know I was hit at first. I killed one of them bastards, Joules. You should have seen it. I would'a got more of'em but my damn gun jammed. Luckily Hoss showed up… and then you too, of course… That was some nice shooting, Joules!"
"Yes, very impressive Initiate Prescott," Hoss agreed as he approached the boys. The Paladin had finished making sure all threats were neutralized and conducting a quick search of the dead mercenaries' bodies. "In fact, your reputation precedes you," Hoss added, tossing some papers in Joule's lap.
The initiate recognized them as bounty hunting contracts, and one had a full description of the vault dweller! The information was alarmingly accurate and even detailed the boy's recent association with the Brotherhood of Steel. The contract had Talon Company letterhead, but the bottom line was signed by someone named Allistair Tenpenny.
"Why are they after me?" Joules whispered his thought aloud.
"Good Question," Hoss huffed, "and one I don't want answered at the moment. We've got a long march back to the Citadel with a badly wounded brother. Let's hurry and find those damn research schematics and get the hell out of here!"
Please review. All feedback is considered and appreciated and helps me figure out what the story is lacking or where I'm missing the mark...