A.R.C.
"Good morning, afternoon or whatever time it is, Empire wasteland!"
"Here's a bit of disconcerting news for you people out there. Apparently the PRCT is not just a colony of wackjobs, they're also incredibly armed, dangerous and with ill intend. Like Supermutants they drag people away... to their lair in Chinatown. In this "lair" they brainwash people, strip them of all identity. A fate worse than death if you ask me... My investigative reporter and stalwart ghoul manservant, Curtis has seen this in action first hand, far too close in fact. But let me stress this to you people again. They are incredibly dangerous, more so than simple Raiders, no... These people are the most dangerous kind of bad guys, the ones with vision..."
"Oooon a much lighter note to. To let this sink into all of you. Here's a song called: Fallout Shelter, by Dore Alpert.
Rook followed Morgan down, pistol in hand.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm safe." Morgan whispered, giving Rook a small smile. "I was enjoying that sleep too..."
"It's pretty quiet right now..." Morgan noted, looking out the alley and seeing officers storming up to the entrance of their hotel again.
"We may be stuck here 'til they go in..."
"Let's skirt around the buildings. We need to get out of the city."
"Okay." Morgan nodded, clutching the case close to her chest. "Hamilton!" She hissed up to the window.
"Take my M40. Give it back when we see you at Arc!"
Hamilton didn't want the sniper rifle as he feared close or medium ranged weapons, still, he wasn't in an position to argue, he quickly rushed over and took the weapon.
"Fine, I'll be there, just get out of Broadway!"
Rook nodded. "Affirmative." He then took a firm hold on Morgan's arm, and began leading her into an alley.
"Thank you!" Morgan called back as Rook dragged her off. "Let's get out, and look at the map after that!"
Rook didn't say a word, just lead Morgan this way and that, acting on intuition. It must've paid off, because soon they were staring at the gate from the darkness of a side street.
"What's the betting the guard has that guys caps still?" Morgan whispered quietly.
Rook glanced at Morgan.
"Should I neutralise him and retrieve the package?"
"We need to get some money." Morgan nodded. "And he will probably be hostile towards us. S-so yes." She looked seriously into Rooks eyes.
"Permission Granted. Neutralise Target."
Rook nodded, advancing on the guard's booth. He disappeared from Morgan's sight when he climbed up into it.
Up top, the guard was minding his own business, probably in the middle of robbing some sod. Needless to say, he never saw Rook come up behind him.
"Light's out, shithead." Rook grumbled in monotone, before seizing the back of the man's head and smashing it into a metal panel. The man dropped to the ground like a stone in water. Rook calmly looted him of his caps, and returned to Morgan.
"Great job!" Morgan cheered as quietly as she could. "Now let's get out of this shithole!"
Rook glanced back at the gate.
"We just walk out?"
"There's only one guy guarding the gate right?" Morgan whispered, even though she knew that was the case.
"Yeah, we could just walk out. Stay low, just in case."
Rook did so, slowly advancing on the gate. He pushed it open a signed, and motioned for Morgan to file out.
Morgan dashed out, keeping as low to the ground as she could, and she soon felt the breeze of the somewhat fresher environment hit her face. Relief washed over her, but it never lasted long, for she knew they'd have no beds for a couple of days.
Rook followed close behind Morgan, both hands gripping his 12.7mm.
"I have formed a plan." Rook noted. "For after we have visited ARC."
"Oh?" Morgan queried, shoving her pistol back in her holster. "Enlighten me."
"We need to go to the Governor's Island. We need to figure out what the PRCT has exactly and if there is a counter measure. This is the best strategy, as an assault against the PRCT itself would be to welcome self-termination."
"G-governors Island..." Morgan repeated, a hint of fear and dread in her voice. She grew surprisingly quiet and hung her head.
"Yes." Confirmed Rook. His eyes drifted over to Morgan. "Is there a problem?"
"Mrrgh..." Morgan muttered, preferring to stay silent.
"Morgan." Rook said firmly. "Withholding information not beneficial to the mission."
"No, it's nothing..." Morgan said softly.
As Morgan spoke, a faint hum could be heard in the distance, it seemed to be growing louder, with each passing second.
Morgan pressed herself against the wall, and cautiously poked her head out of the alley. This might be bad...
Rook gave Morgan a look that said, "we're not finished," before following suit.
Morgan never saw that look as she peered out of the alley again, the humming getting ever closer.
A large shadow fell over the road as a large, gun metal grey hummer pulled up in front of them. The mounted gun on the top slowly moved on top of it, like the eyestalk of an old 50s B-movie robot.
Within seconds, the MG found its target, pointing its barrel right at Morgan and Rook and began to spray 50. calibre bullets around their general area.
Rook grabbed Morgan and yanked her into cover. He suddenly jerked violently, as a heavy road collided with his right arm, blowing off a chunk of flesh.
"Ow."
"Fucking hell!" Morgan shrieked, getting rag dolled about like a well, ragdoll. She curled up behind cover and pulled a pin, letting her grenade cook a second before blindly lobbing it at the Hummer.
The driver put his foot down on the pedal and drove off, barely getting out of there before the grenade detonated. The Hummer's rear received some of the shock of the 'nade's impact but it barely dented it steel armour plating.
The gunner continued to fire at them, hoping to hit them as the vehicle drove away...
Hamilton tipped up the room's desk and dragged it across the room, he crouched down behind it, propping the rifle's barrel on it and taking aim at the door.
"This is your only chance to get out alive still! Drop your weapons and leave the building with your hands over your head!" The police sounded from below.
Hamilton remained silent, the less that they knew about his position, the better...
He just kept his rifle pointed at the door...
There was some stumbling downstairs. Every movement could be heard throughout the floorboards, the bullet holes from earlier also helped.
Hamilton's figure wrapped around the trigger of the rifle, ready to pop the first bastard when he showed his face.
There was only nerve wrecking silence instead. These lot had something planned.
Hamilton slowly stood up and backed away, towards the window, he remained crouched, activating his cloaking device as he slowly climbed out of the window and followed Morgan and Rook's trail.
From the new angle he found himself in, he could see the Police place demolition charges around the house, and probably inside as well. They really wanted them dead.
Crazy fuckers... Hamilton thought, looking up and realising that he had approximately under a minute before they detonated the charges. With this in mind, the Slaver quickly scaled the walls, climbing down as quickly as possible, figuring that he'd probably have to jump to save time.
The last charges were placed and the police force officers quickly ran to the safe zone. This Hotel would no longer harbour criminal elements for this city.
Hamilton dismounted the wall and sprinted away from the building, quickly activating his cloaking device, he could have them fooled into thinking he was dead, then that would be even better.
"Ready?"
"Yes sir."
"Alright, here we go."
After those simple words were spoken, a huge fireball, visible all the way from Morgan and Rook's position, lept in the air. Pieces of splintery wood and Jane Austen novels were tossed in the air. A mild shock wave reached the police force's line. The wood panel house was no more, only a gap between two strong sturdy ventures.
"Holy...J-jesus..." Morgan gasped, falling back out of cover slightly. The world went quiet and all she could see was fire, all she could feel was the heat and intense pain.
Morgan looked down to the spot of the pain, and her eyes widened as there was now a hole in her arm and another bullet lodged in her elbow before Rook tore at her shoulder and dragged her back properly behind cover.
Her breathing was heavy and she looked up weakly to her android companion, too overwhelmed in pain to talk or do anything.
Hamilton threw himself to the ground on detonation, landing with a thud on the ground as his senses were overwhelmed by the blast. He lifted his arm to shield his face, looking away as the orange glow illuminated him.
Hamilton used his cloaking suit to slip out of Broadway, carefully moving through the least populated areas, towards the main gate.
The corpse of the man who had given a hard time getting into the city, dangled out of the booth up on the wall.
Fuck... They could've broken his legs and let me finish the fucker off... Hamilton thought creeping over to the man and searching his belongings. He didn't even have the caps on him...
Prick...
Rook wasn't sure how badly he was damaged. Not horribly, he hoped, definitely not his best day. He knelt down next to Morgan and took her injured arm in his hands with surprising gentleness.
"I will have to pull the bullets out. This will hurt."
"N-no please!" Morgan shrieked, crying out and wailing as soon as he touched her arm. "Get us away! K-knock me out! P-PLEASE!"
The humming could be heard in the distance, getting louder and louder as the vehicle was drawing in. It was likely that the Hummer was coming back around for round 2.
"Morgan you are going into shock. You need to calm down." Said Rook as he calmly took a mine from her belt and tossed it out onto the road. "Deep breathes."
The Hummer appeared to be lingering, somewhere in the distance, from the sounds of it, it appeared to have stopped...
Morgan shook her head, noting the sound as well as she began to shakily shove the briefcase at Rook with her good arm.
"T-take it! Get to ARC o-okay? C-c-come back later!"
Rook just stared at Morgan blankly for a moment, before suddenly snatching her around the neck, looking it between his bicep and forearm, putting her in a tight sleeper hold. He effortlessly lifted her up whilst in this position, grabbed the briefcase, and got moving, heading into ruins with thicker rumble. He moved at an unhurried clip, like he wasn't strangling a woman into unconsciousness and walking away from a vehicle armed with a high calibre machine gun.
As Rook got into position, the land mine that he had placed before detonated on the spot. It seems that the Hummer or one of its passengers had noticed it...
The Hummer's gun then began to fire at Rook's position, the first of the shots missed his head by mere inches but didn't notice and just continued to fire rapidly and blindly.
"P-put me down!" Morgan screamed. "Rook. I order you. P-p-put me down!"
"Will you comply?" He asked, ducking, and shielding Morgan with his body. He picked up the pace, and quickly moved into an old, torn building, that wouldn't last five seconds under fire, but at least it obscured the Humvee's view.
"I need you to calm down and work with me."
"Y-yes." Morgan whispered. "B-but talk to me first..."
Rook went through what he knew about psychology. He had some basic data on the topic, for this very reason in fact.
"Do you want to hear about the Commonwealth?" Asked Rook, loosening his grip on Morgan's neck, and sliding the arm underneath his shoulder and acroos her chest, so that he wasn't hurting her with his hold anymore.
The Hummer moved up towards the said war-torn building as it got ready to fire once more...
Morgan shook her head, her eyes watering in pain and a hint of regret. "Forgive me for this, Rook..." She whispered before looking directly into his eyes.
"T dash Eight dash Zero Zero, initialise manual override, authorisation code: Beta, 5, 3, Alpha."
Morgan grimanced, praying that this would work.
"T-800, you are to carry this package to the Atomic Radio Central building that is South West of here. Deliver it to one, Maxwell Flower, then revert to normal protocols."
She winced, and fell back against some rubble. "I do not matter. I am... unnecessary in this mission. Go. Immediately."
Rook halted in place, coming to a sudden stop, and set Morgan down, his face blank.
"Command code accepted. Mission overridden. Protect V.I.P complete. Mission: deliver package initialized." He droned flatly in monotone. He hefts the briefcase and turned away without a word, before marching off.
The MG had its sights on Rook but chose not to fire or antagonise him, he seemed to be ignoring them and walking away, leaving the woman behind...
As Rook got further and further away from the battlefield, the side doors to the Hummer opened and the Raiders stepped out. Lead by Leigh, who now had a dressing where his ear used to be.
His people, who looked better equipped than the ones he took out to loot the pharmacy with, slowly followed him. He turned to them and nodded to Morgan's slumped body, uttering something in Chinese, the order was pretty obvious.
The Raiders confidently marched over to Morgan, the leader of which was a pretty large man in leather armour, bald head and a rustic machete hanging from his hip, he carried a sub machine gun in his hand. He was followed by two skinny Caucasian men, one of which was in a white tank top and the other wasn't even wearing a shirt at all, just a couple of leather straps around his torso.
The group marched over to Morgan, weapons at the ready as they got ready to take her in...
Morgan looked blearily at the men aproaching her and sighed shakily. Her face was white as a sheet and she had blood pumping profusely from her arm.
"Mornin, a-asswipes." She muttered shakily, aiming her pistol and firing two rounds at the guy with no shirt on.
Rook flat out ignored the humvee, acting as if it didn't exist, although he did appear to be hugging the wall, just in case. He soon vanished into the ruins, knowing his destination.
The shirtless Raider took two 10mm rounds to the shoulder, crying out as he spun down to the floor. The largest Raider, their Captain as it were, brought his boot down hard on Morgan's right cheek.
Morgan spluttered and spat out some blood from her mouth before giving the Captain a bloody smile and passing out.
Gotta...rest a sec. Hang on…
The tank top knelt down beside her, slowly lifting her up, getting a discrete feel in as he did so as he tried to sling her over his shoulder. As he lifted her half way up, a shot rang out across the ruin, hitting the beefy Chinese raider in the back.
He spun around and fell beside Morgan before another shot echoed across the boulevard and the tank top raider's shirt went from white to red as he jerked down and fell face first on the floor.
The Hummer's gunner slowly looked around, scanning the towers for the sign of the sharp shooter but couldn't seem to find them...
The Hummer's MG began to fire, rapidly, up at the building, tearing some of its windows to shreds. Unfortunately for it, it wasn't anywhere near the sharp shooter, who got another shot in, blowing the gunner's head in half and giving the Hummer a nice new coat of red paint.
The Hummer, not wanting to risk being compromised again, drove off, leaving Morgan and the bodies of the dead as it did so as it drove back to its base, across the river...
As the Hummer disappeared, from out of sight, a woman in leather armour emerged from the alleyway, carrying a caravan shotgun. She looked left and right, causing her messy blonde hair to fly back across her face as she turned towards back towards the wind direction and quickly rushed over towards the downed Scientist. She stopped, just in front of her, gasping at her condition before approaching her and kneeling down.
"M-Miss? Are you awake?" She asked, trying to see if Morgan's eyes were open...
"How many times Liz?" Morgan groaned, slurring in her delirium. "Fuck off an lemme sleeeeeep"
The woman was unable to hide her confusion, she just frowned and narrowed her eyes before looking back up to the tower.
"You're hurt, I need to take you to my M- my friend... Can you walk?" She asked, examining the bullet wound in her arm.
"Not really..." Morgan whispered. It should have been pretty obvious, since she was barely conscious.
"Okay..." Morgan whimpered, her vision darkening.
Rook continued his march for ARC, His focus was dead set, his eyes staring straight ahead. He wound through streets, navigating like a champ. He was far too casual for someone in the middle of the Wasteland. Still far too casual for someone who had large holes in him and a back that looked like it had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.
At one point a raider came at him wielding a pool stick, probably not the best idea since Rook was carrying a pistol the size of the guy's head. He charged Rook relentlessly. Rook had orders not to kill and settled for blasting a hole through the man's thigh, before carrying on, steeping over the now sprawled raider.
The ARC building came into view. The canopy roof with its acronym shone in the morning light. And the doors were locked shut, as always.
Rook marched up to the door. He tried it, with no luck and noticed it was reinforced. There'd be no getting through this one. He glanced around for some sort of way in, so far oblivious to the intercom.
A.R.C.
"... Wasn't that just great? Now. Moving on"
"To some music, yes? It's time for another song. This one's a personal favourite of mine. Politics by the Bob Crosby, the star behind classics such as "Dear Hearts and Gentle People" and "Way Back Home". Enjoy! Politics!"
Rook's eyes finally settled on the intercom. He tested the button, and tapped at it.
"I have a package for one Maxwell Flower." He stated gruffly.
Maxwell had just flipped the record in as he noticed someone standing with his nose to the door, on the monitor to his right.
"Eum..."
He looked on as the man pressed the intercom's button
"I have a package for one Maxwell Flower."
"Oh yeah? Who's it from?" Maxwell asked cautiously.
"It is a collection of Ania Ray's personal documents, sent by 'Morgan.'" Replied Rook with absolute candour.
"Wow, slow down. I don't know any Morgan. You might be mistaken" Maxwell protested.
Though the fact he mentioned Ania Ray did make him interested.
Ania Ray, huh? What's this then?
"Maybe she knows you?" Curtis suggested, still standing there.
"Knows what?" Maxwell turned to Curtis, he had frankly forgotten he even was in the room.
His work tended to absorb him at times.
"You do not know Morgan, that is correct. This package is for you. It is Ania Ray's personal documents." Morgan's override had given Rook a one track mind, basically ruining any chance of there ever being a decent chance of conversation.
"Oh yeah? Why would I want them? I certainly didn't ask for them." Maxwell said back into intercom.
"Maybe she knows you." The Ghoul repeated. "Or of you at least. You are a radioman after all." He nodded towards the broadcaster.
"True, but I don't like accepting strange packages, Curtis. For all we know it could be bomb" Maxwell warned.
"They are Ania Ray's personal documents. They contain sensitive information on," he could be listing the table of contents for a book, "psychotronics, the Empire State Building, the Peoples' Republic of Chinatown, Governor's Island, and Ania Ray."
The girl's lack of knowledge, medical or otherwise, didn't really help her deduce Morgan's condition. She moved around her and threw the Woman's arm over her shoulder, grunting as she lifted Morgan up and forced her to her feet.
"We have... supplies... we can help you."
Maxwell held off on replying for a second. He was thinking, processing.
Rook just stood there patiently during Maxwell's silence, in no hurry. He stared unflinchingly at the intercom, like it was riveting.
"Alright. I'll open the door for you. But leave your weapons downstairs, I'll know if you'll bring them up and you'll be sorry." The DJ agreed after which he pressed the button that opened the door.
Rook stepped inside, and glanced around the room, taking it in, before locating the basket. He unstrapped his holsters and dropped his shotgun and pistol into the container. He then began marching upstairs.
"Holy..." Maxwell now had a clearer visual of the man who seemed to be missing large portions of skin all over his body.
Rook approached the door to the upstairs. His jacket, which had been intact until the 12.7 millimetre round had hit him, now had a gaping hole in it's shoulder, exposing ripped flesh and bits of dented and torn metal underneath. His hands were badly cut up and, although it was hard to see with the jacket on, his back was all stitched up and bloody. His undershirt was non-existent, ruined from all the fights.
He needed some biogel bad. Or a vacation.
Rook patiently stood at the upstairs door, awaiting entrance.
Maxwell grabbed hold of his pistol, pulling the hammer down to load a bullet in the cylinder.
Hoping Curtis would be equally alarmed.
"What are you!?" Maxwell yelled at the door.
"I am Rook." The android answered, not quite grasping the question.
"No, I mean, 'what' are you?!" Maxwell emphasized.
"I am a Synthetic Systems Model 800 Terminator Series Infiltration-Combat Unit. I identify as Rook." He hesitated. "I am friendly."
"He's a robot. Or something of the sort..."
Maxwell trailed off for a second.
"Fine."
"You may enter."
Rook didn't need another word. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping in, and shutting it behind him. He scanned the room methodically, like a predator. He zeroed in on Maxwell's and Curtis' location, before walking towards them with purpose. He made it to their position, and presented the brief case to Maxwell.
"This is the package."
Maxwell felt a shiver go down his spine as the giant walked dead on to him with the briefcase stretched out.
Carefully the DJ took the briefcase.
"So... What happens now?" Flower chuckled nervously.
"Do you have the package?" Rook needed to receive confirmation to complete his mission and revert to normal runtimes and programming.
"Erm." Maxwell didn't know what to say at first, wasn't this self explanatory?
"I guess, yes."
Rook's eyes widened at that. It was like a fog cleared. He felt like an amnesia patient who suddenly got all his memory back, or an amputee who just recieved a cybernetic limb.
"Mission complete." He announced in monotone, to no one in particular. "Reverting to normal protocols." His eyes widened a little larger, then narrowed at Maxwell. He was silent for a few moments before speaking.
"Those are Ania Ray's personal documents. They possess detailed files on her activities, such as letting the PRCT brainwash Broadway's upper class. We require that you release them over your radio station, the holotape in particular. It will out Ania Ray and warn people. Everything you need to know is in there." Rook glanced behind himself at the door.
"I will now depart."
Whatever the android just said made little sense to Maxwell.
"This is just... pfft."
He still held the briefcase up, uncomfortable with opening it.
"I will now depart." Rook announced in monotone.
"Wait, no! I don't..." Maxwell felt lost.
Rook gave Maxwell the most unconcerned look. His mission was complete. It was Maxwell's duty now.
"Everything you need to know is in there." He repeated, before turning and walking out.
Maxwell sighed.
Gently he placed the briefcase down and looked up at Curtis.
"What do you think?"
"We should have someone else open it on case it's a bomb." Curtis told him, still uneasy from seeing a 'synthetic' "But if it's not, you should at least look over what's in there."
"There's not really someone else to ask..." Maxwell said.
He looked down at the briefcase.
carefully he opened one of the two catches.
Curtis inhaled sharply, but the lack of vaporization calmed his nerves a few seconds later. "Ready?" he asked more to himself than to Maxwell.
The girl slowly pulled Morgan up to her feet as the two of them stumbled across the courtyard. Their progress was incredibly slow, in fact, it was so slow that the sniper abandoned his position and came running around the corner, brandishing a combat shotgun in his hand.
He too was wearing Merc Troublemaker armour, though the male variant, he had short, messy black hair, that was quite long and untreated. He rushed over to the girl and took Morgan off of her.
"Heather, search those bodies, we gotta get back inside before those pricks come back. Move!"
'Heather' nodded and ran over to the fallen raiders, quickly gathering up their weapons and loose equipment, trying to carry it all.
"Lady, you got a name? People? A home?" He asked Morgan, rather hurriedly as he expected her to pass out soon.
"Morgan..." Morgan whispered sleepily. "Alone. No home..."
"Alrigh'..." The Merc uttered as they approached the building and heather caught up with them, opening the way.
"Think she'll make it up the stairs?" The young girl asked, she was obviously a few years younger than him, most likely still in her teens or very early twenties.
"She's gotta... Elevator's fucked..." Her companion sighed as he began his ascent.
"Gotta...stay awake..." Morgan mumbled, shaking her head. "G-going into shock. Have to...to remove bullets my-myself."
"S'alright... I got foreceps in my room, Heather's done it before." The young man insisted as they reached the top of the first flight of stairs.
"Heather, she won't make it to the top, get the foreceps from our room, go!"
Heather nodded and rushed off, running straight up the stairs as her clattering footsteps echoed throughout the hotel. The young man continued to assist Morgan up the next flight of stairs.
"Almost there, just keep at it..."
"Have to...hold...on..." Morgan stammered. "R-rook. Forgive me..."
"Morgan, I need you focussed! Can't have you goin' all dithery on me yet!" The Wastelander barked, fretting that they wouldn't make it to the hotel room.
"Dithery..." Morgan chuckled. "Th-thas an odd word..." She looked up to the Merc who was carrying her and smiled. "G-gonna s-sleep now. Remove bullets a-after..."
With that, she grew heavier, essentially passing out in the hallway.
"Wh- Argh shi-!" The man's voice echoed as Morgan keeled over and everything faded to black. Her vision came and went, over the next few minutes as she was dragged into a room and placed on a couch, there she opened her eyes once more to see the Wastelander, holding the aforementioned forceps.
"Keep 'er pinned down, this'll hurt like hell!" He barked, his voiced echoed as he spoke as she heard the tinny sound effect of it bouncing around the room. Morgan immediately felt a great deal of pressure on her chest as Heather pinned her down.
"G-Garry, stop! You're hurting her!"
"I almost got it!" Garry snapped, ignoring the fact that Morgan was involuntarily writhing in pain as he dug the surgical equipment deeper into her arm.
"Garry, you're..."
Heather was cut off as the foreceps jerked back out of Morgan's arm, clutching several fragments of the bullet in their pincers, all of them were dripping with blood. It was at this moment that Morgan passed out for the final time before waking up for real, in a few hours...
"Morgan! Morgan! Ratty, scatty, unintelligent Morgan!"
It was a horrid day in the camp. It was warm, it stunk, and no matter how hard the adults tried, conditions were terrible.
Kids and teens hung out in the main lobby, listening to several lectures and teasing the class dunce.
Which happened to be Morgan.
"She's a dolt. A dumbass. A simpleton! She's alone! Fricking ugly!"
The younger, teenager, Morgan hung her head, fiddling away in the corner as she tried to block the taunting out.
People just leave me alone! You...you all suck!
"We develop tools fit for Gods! All you want to do is screw robots!"
Robots won't tease me! Androids are the best thing to come from us!
I'm gonna...Gonna snap one day...
She muttered darkly to herself. "You're all gonna pay..."