Barracks 4
Hox borrowed a suspiciously well used shovel from Scooter and buried Jess in the sands beneath T-Bone-Junction. The mechanic was eager to supply a lot of tips about the digging of a shallow grave, but after Hox had in turn supplied him with a very condescending look, he had quickly apologised and offered his condolences. Still in the way of someone with a very casual attitude towards death, but it was appreciated nonetheless.
Especially after Linda.
Pointing out that he was now a drifter again, she had tried to recruit him permanently for her turret and after that had failed, they hadn't spoken much on their way back to the Junction. At dusk, exhaustion forced Linda to make camp under a rock overhang; for some reason it was out of the question for Hox to drive again, but he didn't really care. There was no more point to speed. Nothing to look forward to, except dead Lancemen. Everything seemed to be covered in a haze, in grief and fury and unwarranted guilt. He carefully made sure that Jess' body wasn't slipping out of the lashings, after Linda had asked him to check on his luggage. The Outrunner was equipped with two cots that could be folded out from the sides, a mixture of bank and hammock. Digging through his SDU, Hox found a couple of blankets and a towel which was plenty to make the cot comfortable to sleep in. His dreams didn't let him, though.
When they had finally arrived at the Junction, Linda asked him to pay up for gas. Hox had glared at her, unbelieving beneath the ever-oppressing mist of his haunting spirits and then he had broken her nose, before throwing the cash at her feet. The driver might not have a drop of empathy inside her, but she did have enough common sense to just get out of town.
He only cried when he was alone at Jess' graveside. It didn't alleviate much.
There were several, small, rickety huts hanging on big chains from the underbelly of the highway, connected with bending walkways and most of them unoccupied. Hox checked half a dozen, before he settled on one that was not in immediate danger of taking a dive to the sands. One room, one window, a rather welcome box of shotgun-shells and stains on the walls. No matter. He got a couple of very used tires for a song from a guy named Rubber, brought them into the hut, fitted them with his blankets and had a rudimentary bed.
After he had made himself a home, he went to the Shŏtz Bar past Scooter's garage and spent the rest of the day toasting the people of Desert's Eye. He was bitterly reminded of his arrival in the little town and absentmindedly wondered if he was now condemning T-Bone-Junction to the same fate, until he was too wasted to wonder about anything anymore.
He awoke amidst the smell of oil, coolant, rubber and singed metal.
"Aw, look at that, it's alive!", someone yelled in an overly dramatic voice. "Thanks to me, by the way. Saw ye staggering by and I kinda knew where ye were sleeping, so I figured I better get ye inside, before ye tried to get back home and fall off them walkways. Happens way too often, if ye ask me, and ye still owe me my shovel back."
Hox rolled to the side and promptly fell off the work bench where Scooter had parked him.
"That's the spirit", the mechanic shouted encouragingly. "Need something against the hangover?"
"I don't usually get a hangover", Hox replied groggily, being rather sure he would definitely get a couple of bruises out of his recent fall.
"That's mighty useful", Scooter acknowledged. "Anyways, as ye're so suddenly and surprisingly back in town, mind lending me a hand? Them upgrades ye made on Linda's ride, I'm kinda envious of them now and want to add them to my own carpool. Could use a little help, 'cause that's certainly gonna take a while."
"Not right now", Hox growled and got to his feet. "How long have I been out?"
"Still dark outside."
"Good." The mercenary quickly checked his possessions, but everything was in order. Not that he had expected Scooter to steal anything. Looking around, it took him a while to find the man himself, who was half buried in the motor of his newest creation, the Monster. "Thank you for taking me in. I might hang on to that shovel for a little longer if you don't mind. There's a time of shallow graves coming up."
"Whatever suits ye, just remember, iffn the hard times are hitting ye over the head again, I'll need somebody with experience to help with them new turrets." Scooter briefly removed his head from the engine and flashed him a grin. "I'll pay well."
Hox considered. Forsaking his share of Linda's Oasis-run had put him in a precarious financial situation, especially, since he didn't have free meals at the "Last Drink" anymore. On the other hand, he really didn't want to involve Scooter in anything he and Athena were going to unleash on Atlas. "Maybe later. Thanks again."
And with that, Hox staggered outside, not quite sober, but ready to go to war.
The sun rose again, climbed lazily to its zenith and started back down. Athena didn't show up. Hox, who had been keeping a close eye on any signs of the assassin, gave her almost an entire regular day extra and when night fell again, he decided that something needed to be done.
He had spent his days exploring the town and restocking his ammo pouches while doing so. Unwilling to spent money on food, he climbed down into the desert and shot a Skag with an ease that surprised him. He sold a hindleg opportunistically to Marcus, who had seen him enter the town with the kill, and still had enough meat to last him his entire wait. The tongue had been saved for last, as was custom. He still had half of it left, when he put on a bandit's mask, holstered two pistols, among them his newly acquired Masher, grabbed a simple remote detonator and strolled over to Shŏtz'.
Hox had a single lead in finding Athena: another name. Granted, that wasn't much, but it turned out to be a name that Scooter knew. The Lance patrols tended to make a quick stopover in T-Bone-Junction, usually to take a shot at Shŏtz. Over time, Scooter had learned quite a lot about them, mostly specifics about the cars, but also their names to a point that he could draw up a pretty accurate schedule of the patrolling Lancemen.
As Hox arrived at the bar, an Outrunner in the colours of the Crimson Lance was already parked in front of it. The driver was getting the drinks, while the gunner was leaning against the back of the car. He had taken his integral helmet off and was wiping the sweat from him clean shaven head with a rag. Nevertheless, he was keeping his guard up and immediately reached for his sidearm, when Hox stepped out of the gloom. "Keep walking", the Lanceman snarled.
"Private McSantosh?", Hox asked. The mask was distorting his voice to the point he himself hardly recognised it.
The gunner jerked ever so slightly. "Depends. Who's asking?"
"A friend of a friend."
"Don't play games, what do you want?!"
"Heard you've been asking for a girl named Jess."
Upon that McSantosh drew his weapon, but Hox was faster. Not concerning the drawing of weapons, but he had prepared for this meeting beforehand and simply needed to press the detonator. In a couple of discarded cardboard boxes next to the bar, half a dozen flashbangs went off and they did a marvellous job of distracting McSantosh for a crucial second. When the soldier turned his eyes back towards Hox, he was staring down the barrels of two pistols.
"So, you have heard of Jess", Hox concluded.
"You're threatening an Atlas-employee", the soldier growled more pissed than anything. "That's a huge mistake, asshole. And why are you pointing two guns at my face?"
As if on cue, the driver walked around the side of the car, a cocktail-glass in each hand. Hox immediately pointed the left pistol in his direction. "That's why."
"What the flying Skag is going on?", the driver muttered, aghast. He, too, had ditched his integral helmet. Which was a good thing, because it meant he couldn't easily call for reinforcements.
"I'm just having a little discussion with your pal who's been asking around for a girl named Jess in a town named Desert's Eye."
"Yeah, so what? You her brother or something?", McSantosh said mockingly
"I'm looking for the one who ordered you to do that."
"Good luck with that, we weren't ordered by anyone."
"No, you weren't, I presume Athena simply asked a favour of you. I just don't know where she is and you're going to tell me now." The Masher moved closer to McSantosh' nose. "And then we can all leave happily and without any harm done, alright?"
"Of course not", McSantosh said sarcastically. He levelled his eyes at the lenses in Hox' mask. "Why do you even care?"
"Don't play games, where is she?"
"Har, har, comeback! Why do you care? Come on, intel for intel."
"I have a gun in your face."
"Weren't we having a little discussion? Now it seems more like an interrogation."
"Where. Is. Athena?"
"Please, may I just take my drink?! The ice is melting", the driver interjected and was completely ignored.
"And if I don't tell you?" McSantosh bared his teeth in a nasty grin. "You're too clever to shoot me. What's even going on? Did you find Jess, too, and want to collect some sort of bounty from Athena?"
"So you knew where Jess was?", Hox roared and had to concentrate on his trigger finger, before it did something untoward.
"Sure, Desert's Eye. The local Claptrap was more than happy to provide us with any information, once we agreed to buy a beer at his tavern. Are you from there?"
Hox quickly turned the Masher to the side and fired it so close to McSantosh' ear that even earplugs wouldn't have done him any good. The Private recoiled against the car, gasping in pain. "Stop asking questions or the next one goes into your foot! Where is Athena?!"
For the first time since the gun had appeared in his face, McSantosh looked appropriately frightful. "The MP took her into custody. Rumour has it she went berserk, killed her entire squad and then some. They wanted to bring her to the Armoury proper, but then they decided to drop her in the first barracks with holding cells and spare themselves trouble. Because that's all Athena is: Trouble. We don't really want anyone to know we've been palling around with her, so please keep this quiet. Sorry for drawing on you, be we can't have people running around who know we did favours for an Omega squad-leader who has fallen from favour."
The world was spared the look of Hox' maniacal grin because of the mask. "Where are those barracks?"
"On the Tollway, three clicks south of Moxxi's. What now?"
"Who did you tell about Jess?"
"Only Athena. No one else was interested."
"And you?" Hox turned towards the driver. "Have you been talking to anyone else?"
The man shook his head with such vigour the ice in his drinks chinked.
"Well, then you're both bloody liars, because Atlas ordered an Omega squad to Desert's Eye to kill everyone and anyone, two days after you left."
The driver dropped both his drinks and managed to catch one. McSantosh' face turned to abject horror. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, until he finally settled on: "But that town was… Why… Because… Fuck! For the girl? They ordered the town killed for the girl?!"
"They didn't want her to leave!", the driver gasped. "Oh God, they didn't want to lose their finest assassin. Listen, Athena has been going around telling everyone that this was going to be her last tour and that she would find her sister and sign off. It's the truth, I swear on anything you want. She dug her own grave."
"Not quite." Hox was fighting tears of grief and rage and had to consciously breathe through the air purifier so his mask wouldn't fog up. "She killed her sister. And then I dug the grave."
McSantosh made a strangled sound somewhere between a sob, hysterical laughter and an angry snarl. There was real fear in his eyes now. "And now you want to get her for that? Okay, there… there's absolutely no reason to shoot us dead, you hear me. Let's just figure out how we can get you to Athena, okay? She's kept in a cell in Barracks 4. These cells are airtight, there's a ventilation system and it's already spiked to release nerve-gas to knock out unruly prisoners. If you can sneak in and turn on the gas to maximum, she'll bite it. Central environmental controls are down the corridor, when you enter the barracks, third door on the right. And this", he made it abundantly clear he was only using two fingers to get a small, plastic card from his coverall, ripped it off its elastic tether and tossed it at Hox, "is how you get in. Key card. Should also grant you access to the control computer. I can just say that I was mugged… which I technically was."
Hox made no motion to gather the key card up. How could he, with a gun in each hand? "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I don't want you to shoot me, idiot! This shit's not on me, go, kill Athena and be done with it. Let me help you, let me show some goddamn goodwill! I can handle a dressing down from the sergeant, I can't handle a bullet to the forehead!"
"Well said", the driver muttered and gulped down half of his remaining cocktail in one go. "Ah… that feels marginally better."
"The second I let you near any ECHO you're going to call up Barracks 4", Hox said grimly. Letting the duo live would be an incredible risk, but this had started to turn seriously sideways. Instead of two faceless Atlas soldiers, he was now talking to two men who were technically innocent and even wanted to help him. His scruples reared their heads.
"Here's the deal", McSantosh proposed. "There are sleeping pills in our med-kits. Both of us are going to take one, sit in the Runner and sleep it off. That should give you a head start of several hours."
"The pills should not be taken with alcohol", the driver complained.
"No matter, and save some for me anyways. We have a deal?"
Hox nodded slowly. "Agreed. Go on then, knock yourselves out."
McSantosh breathed a slow sigh of relief. "Thank you. Thank you for our lives."
Hox checked his arsenal. One last time. All his weapons were loaded. The grenades were armed. The shield was up. He had a plan, or at least an approximation. No quarter. No more names, no more conversation. Shoot to kill. This was war now. He took a steadying breath and marched off towards the entrance door of Barracks 4. For now, he was unmasked.
"Don't shoot! I'm a civilian", he shouted, before the guardsman leaning up against the wall could spot him.
"Who goes there?!", the Atlas-soldier at the door shouted and raised his rifle, as Hox walked out of the gloom.
"Jeremy Huxley, better known as Hox, I'm alone and unarmed", Hox replied evenly and raised his empty hands.
"Papers?!", the guard exclaimed, sounding amazed.
"I hate that nickname, but, yes. Could I stay the night here?"
The guard laughed and lowered his rifle. "This is an active Atlas-barracks, no civilians allowed, and you are unfortunately as civilian, as they come on this planet."
"Come on, don't you have a cot for a weary traveller? Can't be all your beds in there are taken."
"Matter of fact, only five cots are taken at the moment, but the rest of the evening shift is still in the mess and will occupy the remaining beds soon enough, so…"
"You just have twenty beds? Please, I'll sleep in the corner! Walking on the highway at night is an eerie business."
"We just have sixteen, and how did you get the idea about the twenty beds?"
"Lucky guess. Can't I sleep in the mess hall? I could pay. Or have you bet against me?"
The guardsman chuckled. "No. Perhaps, on any other day, you could bunk here, but you just chose a day of classified, classified and classified."
"Well, that's a shame." Hox drew his Masher pistol and shot the guard in the face, at point blank range. The man was completely unprepared for an attack and the load of buckshot and helmet-parts cost him the opportunity to react ever again.
Fifteen men in the barracks… at least. And he was already shaking from the murder he had just committed. But Hox was determined and thoughts of a smiling Jess spurred him on.
He took McSantosh' key card from his pocket and held it to the scanner next to the door. To his amazement, it slid open, revealing an antechamber that could also be used as an airlock, in case of biological or nuclear war waging outside. Behind that, a bland, sparsely illuminated corridor led deeper into the building.
No one came running; no gunfire erupted. The death of the guard had gone unnoticed, though Hox would have bet money that his luck wouldn't hold for long. He stuffed the Masher into his belt, put on his bandit mask, drew the shotgun, and pressed on.
There were talking and the clanking of metal on metal emanating from the right. Someone had scrawled "The Mess" on a pair of double doors. Someone else (in much better handwriting) had added "You bet it is".
Hox pulled two grenades from his SDU, opened the door by a fraction, pulled the pins and rolled the grenades into the mess hall. He quickly took cover behind a sturdy support beam, just as the doors were blasted off their hinges and an inhuman cacophony of screams echoed through the whole base.
Now they knew he was here.
Quickly and prepared for the worst Hox darted into the mess hall. The meal of the day had been tomato soup, which made it all the more difficult to tell how many soldiers he had gotten. He didn't take the time to look for all the heads, but he finished off three men with the shotgun who had been only relatively lightly wounded. Then he proceeded through the doors at the other end of the mess, as he heard footsteps from there.
He emerged in a corridor, similar to the first one and parallel to it. Doors on both sides were being thrown open, apparently the bunkrooms. Confused soldiers, some only in their coveralls, some wearing even less, stepped out into the hallway. Most of them held their sidearms at the ready. Hox advanced, blasting away at the men. In rapid succession he had dispatched three more soldiers, but when he reached the fourth, he hesitated. The man was buck naked, still wet from the shower. Shaking, he raised his hands.
The scruples were still going strong. Hox wacked him over the head with the shotgun's stock and the naked soldier collapsed to the ground.
Then there was gunfire from further up the corridor. Hox quickly took cover in the entrance to one of the bunkrooms. He took his last grenade, pulled the pin, counted grimly to three and hurled the bomb in the vague direction of the shooter. The shockwave made him stagger and there was no more gunfire. Running down the corridor, he had to jump over the corpses of two more Crimson Lances, one having taken cover behind a support beam on the left, the other behind a beam on the right side of the hallway.
To the left, stairs led downwards. Presumably the same person responsible for labelling the mess hall had scrawled "The Brick" on a wooden sign hanging askew over the landing. Someone else (in much better handwriting) had added: "Certainly thick as one." A fully armed Atlas-soldier came running up the stairs, assault rifle at the ready. Hox reacted automatically, pumping lead from all three barrels of his shotgun into the unfortunate soldier, who nevertheless managed to squeeze off a burst of rounds himself. An electrical tickle ran over Hox' face and chest, where the shield had absorbed the bullets.
"Hey!", someone shouted behind him.
The mercenary spun round, crouching low to present less of a target and fired on autopilot. The soldier who had stepped out of a hitherto unopened bunkroom and trained a rifle on him was unfortunately rather far away, but in the confines of the corridor, the sheer number of pellets, flying straight or ricocheting off the walls, did the man in nonetheless.
His shotgun now empty, Hox stowed it in his SDU and continued with the Masher. He thundered down the stairs to the brig and found himself faced with another locked door. His brain suggested that McSantosh' card couldn't possibly work on the door to the holding cells, but he had stopped listening to reason a while ago and his hand had just jammed the key card against the scanner anyhow.
The door slid open.
Hox reacted quickly, shoved the Masher through the widening crack in the door and fired blindly into the room beyond. He heard a grunt and the thump of a body dropping to the ground and then he could see down another small corridor, bordered on both sides by holding cells, which were locked with purple plasma-walls. At the very end of the corridor, a Crimson Lance guard hefted his assault shotgun and blasted away.
Hox threw himself to the side, only to collide violently with the wall. He staggered back and collided with the wall on the other side of the door, while the load of buckshot passed through it. His head was swimming. He heard the sound of a shotgun pumping and then another load of pellets roared through the open doorway. Some ricochets pinged him in the abdomen and the legs, but his shield held tight.
Hox advanced the moment the firestorm had abated. Roaring like a madman he ran straight at the guard, firing his Masher on the move. The soldier clearly had not expected such a suicidal manoeuvre and backed away. Running while shooting had the drawback of a completely crippled aim, but the distance was closing rapidly and then the soldier's shield collapsed and then they were so close that the Masher almost touched the Lanceman's helm, as he squeezed off the last couple of rounds…
And then the soldier fired his shotgun.
The impact force lifted Hox off his feet and threw him down the corridor. His shield collapsed, the violent electrical sting at his hip jerking him around. His chest was awash with pain and felt disturbingly constricted, probably a broken rib or five. Yet the guard was off far worse: The last round had found the gap between his helmet and his spaulders, tearing out his throat. He lay croaking and gasping in a widening pool of blood, before he finally lay still.
"Very impressive", a voice came from one of the cells.
Hox scrambled to his feet and immediately reloaded the Masher. Then, he dragged the boot of the first guard out of the doorway, which allowed the door to close properly. Then, finally, he checked the cells. Only one was occupied.
Athena lay on her back, wrapped in a straitjacket. Her feet were chained so tightly they looked welded together. Apparently, she still wore her Atlas armour. "You're the man from Desert's Eye", she stated.
"So I am. How do I get you out of there?", Hox croaked and winced.
"Yeah, about that… there is a code panel next to the plasma wall. Four-digit code. Didn't get to see it, unfortunately, and those two guys will probably not tell you anything."
Hox' gaze darted from the two guards to the small alcove at the back of the corridor, where two bottles stood forlornly on a steel table. No chance of finding the codes quickly and he had dispatched enough helmeted Crimson Lance to know that reinforcements were undoubtedly on the way. Maybe he could disable the plasma wall some other way? Run around to the environmental control? Running, with his hurting chest?
Then he noticed a little logo on the side of the code panel. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Hastily, he grabbed his ECHO and scrolled through several menus, until he found what he was looking for. He took a screwdriver from his civilian SDU, wedged it under the encasing at several dedicated spots that weren't marked in the user manual and immediately the encasing fell to the ground.
"You're a lockpicker now?", Athena asked, surprised.
"Not really, but Atlas has been outsourcing their locking systems", Hox explained, while rifling through a thicket of wires, frequently double-checking with the hologram displayed by his ECHO. "To a former employer of mine, to be precise."
Athena somehow managed to turn herself into a position where she could see the panel and the hologram. "Hyperion?"
Hox hesitated a moment. But Athena was just about the last person left on this planet who he could trust and after everything that had happened, his backstory didn't matter anymore. "Aye. I used to work as an engineer for them, stumbled upon some stuff I shouldn't have stumbled upon, had to kill someone and before I bolted, I nicked just about any blueprints on the servers that might someday be useful. Including their patented locks."
With a sudden, violently humming sound, the plasma wall collapsed. Hox hobbled into the cell and freed Athena from the straitjacket. He had just pulled a bolt cutter from his SDU to get rid of the chains, when Athena had already bent open the shackles by herself.
"We should expect reinforcements", he said, ignoring the assassin's superhuman feat of strength for now. "I've got a rather diverse pool of guns with me, anything you prefer?"
"Sword and shield", Athena replied, her eyes blazing. "There should be a property room close to the landing, that's where they put my stuff."
And without waiting up, she pushed the door open and ran upstairs. Hox followed, one arm protectively pressed against his ribs.
By the time he had made it back into the hallway, Athena was already strapping her SDUs back to her belt. Her shield was on its retainer on her left arm and the moment she was finished fiddling with the storage units, she lit up her plasma sword.
"You stay behind me", Athena advised and twirled her blade expertly. "Call your shots, so I don't accidentally jump into one of your bullets, clear?"
"Much obliged." Relieved, Hox switched back to his beloved Diaub, which had the added benefit of doubling as a walking stick.
They went back the way he had come. When they reached the crew-quarters Athena casually knelt and stabbed the naked soldier through the chest. Hox felt a weird, misplaced pang of regret.
And then there were shouts and stomping boots and with them, ample distraction.
Athena took off on a trot and Hox had to hurry to keep up. They burst into the bloodstained mess hall, at the same time as a squad of Crimson Lance on the other side of the room.
"Stay behind me!", Athena shouted. An additional plasma ring erupted from her shield, making it big enough to cover them both from the incoming fire.
"On the right", Hox shouted and his Diaub jerked in his hands. A Lanceman fell back. The recoil sent roaring pains through Hox' chest. "Next on the right!" A Lanceman was thrown against the wall, clutching his shoulder. His aim was off because he couldn't exactly use the ocular at this distance. "Him again." The soldier collapsed against the wall, blood gushing from his helmet.
He looked for more enemies, but there were none. Instead, Athena was already at the other end of mess hall, impatiently gesturing with her sword. The rest of the squad lay on the ground, decapitated, stabbed, crushed by the impact force of the shield.
Without another word they left Barracks 4. An empty APC stood diagonally on the road in front of the Barracks and in the distance the searchlight of another one was cutting through the dark of the night.
"To the right!", Athena announced casually. "You take them, I deal with the car."
Hox had to resort to the low-light amplifier in his scope to recognise the threat Athena had somehow detected: Lance Rocketeers, riding jetpacks. Three of the bastards were rapidly advancing on them. Lightly armoured, two armed with rifles, the third with a rocket launcher.
Hox crouched behind the concrete crash barriers, then slowly peeked up and used the barrier as a stand for his rifle's bipod. He knew what he was looking for, which part of the jetpack was most vulnerable to damage and he fired two shots in rapid succession. At least one connected and the Rocketeer with the launcher spiralled out of control, crashing into the side of the highway.
"Thank you, Jess", he whispered, while dropping back into cover. Everything she had ever told him about the Crimson Lance finally paid off. Are you planning to fight these bastards?
After a quick change of position, Hox reappeared from behind the crash barrier and fired again. This time his shield had to take some damage, but he got the second Rocketeer and then shot the third one in the back, when he tucked tail and tried to retreat.
There was a commotion on the road, where Athena was carving through the unfortunate souls in the second APC. Lots of gunfire, crashes, screams, the works. Hox was limping over to her, when the sounds of yet another car caught his attention, coming from the other direction. Hastily, he took cover behind the first APC, placed his Diaub on the bonnet and started to pour a steady stream of bullets into the windshield of the oncoming transport. If he could get through and kill the driver…
From the corner of his eye he saw the front seat passenger leaning out of his window. He was wearing a blue uniform and for a second Hox wondered why that may be, those weren't regular Crimson Lance colours. It was the last thing he wondered before he felt himself struck by lightning. His shield collapsed again and then he felt electricity surging through his system, his feet lost contact with the ground and everything went black.