CHAPTER 7.
I Just Got a Key to Godhood. What about You?
Sanford could be brutally honest when he said his beliefs.
He believed people were people- nothing you, or anyone else did, would change their inner selves. Warp or bend them, sure, but never a direct change.
He believed fate was bupkiss. If you wanted to make something happen- make it happen. No higher power decreed or didn't decree anything for you.
He believed the world owed you nothing. But in return, YOU didn't owe the world anything either. If you wanted something, earn it. Don't let anyone say otherwise.
However, one thing he DIDN'T believe in, was godsends.
And with this recent development, that last belief was sent clear out the window.
Sanford, had indeed, been sent to by the Man Upstairs it seemed. He was lucky. He was empowered. He was granted an opportunity, that not many people had to grant.
In fact, Sanford was shown a mean to power. REAL power. The freakin' item in question, was called POWER Armor.
-On top of such, it wasn't just ANY Power Armor.
It wasn't the Army-obsolete T-45, or the improved T-51- it wasn't even the heavy, modernized T-60.
This, was X-01. Technically, by the time of its make, it wasn't even standard issue to the military- or what was left of it. X-01 Armor had everything in the way of improvements.
It had optical scanning systems, heat signature vision, energy fluctuation detection, medical systems for automated stimulation-injection, gauss application, and bodily sealing. The suit had a Blood Filter in it! It was like the dream-car cartoon characters bought when they spent all their money and went bankrupt!
This suit would protect him from volleys of ammunition, blunt force trauma- Sanford could walk into a machinegun's cone, and right up to the gunner to break his neck with cybernetic-musculature enhanced gauntlets!
He could OWN the land with this item.
All the boxes and containers in the APC- to boot -held a unbelievable supply of Power-cores. So as long as the suit wasn't outright destroyed, Sanford could run it near endlessly.
The first thing he and Hancock did, was travel back to the gas-station- arm (and claw-)-loads of Power-core containers in their grasps. Sanford found a spare helmet in the APC too, so he took it as well.
Back and forth, the two would travel (and fly-) to and from the crater within the outskirts of Boston, and the gas-station.
"-There's only a few more, Han'!" Sanford called as his metal boots trudged down the concrete in bellowing thuds. "We're almost done!"
Held in Sanford's arms was his SMG in his right clasp- and five containers stacked with Power-cores inside.
Hancock flew up next to him with excited speed-both teammates having crossed paths in their patrol pattern. They'd been running sorties separately- Sanford found it ironic, and omen-speaking -that they walked right past each other on the same back-forth destination.
The Mr. Gutsy cleared the short distance- appearing over a quick roll in the landscape -with a humorous bolster in his voice.
"Sir, we have discovered the ultimate tool of ass-kick!" He proclaimed. "THIS, will be the demise of all Communist filth! HOO-RAH!"
And then, the two passed each other, Hancock vanishing behind his shoulder pad's girth.
As if on cue, a pair of blood bugs hovered over the hood of a nearby car- gazed once in the hulking Power Armor's direction, and- like the stupid insects were expected to react -they started to flutter over.
Sanford laughed at them with a hearty belt, held his SMG out one-handed, and sprayed the giant bugs once.
They flew apart in flittering chunks of green and yellow.
He smiled at the desecrated giblets spattering on the dirt before him.
"I'm done being the scav'."
-0-0-0-0-0-
She didn't know how long it would be until she happened on another entrance to the underground- because she did not know this region in the slightest in comparison to her old home.
'Boston' as it once was- was nothing like the utterly barren fields of stone and urban sprawls in the Capital- even the city here was more navigable unlike half of the caved-in metropolis she had come to know.
There were less people to shoot at her, which was a plus- but there were more mindless beasts willing to attempt making a meal of her. Ghouls were only a small problem here. She discovered that the hard way.
With a hefting grunt- she slowly slid her claws from the quivering, raw-opened wound of organic desecration before her, growling for a fair point- she drove the nails and front-ball of her foot into the thing with a striking kick.
SLK
The body of a mauled bear- a 'Yao Guai' by human term -flopped onto the dusty dirt beneath her with a ragged collapse of bulky limbs and a destroyed head.
Heaving, she rolled her shoulders from the effort of the fight- looked down at herself, and blinked at the matted blood coating her hide from toe to jaw.
Her scaly body was becoming colored like a scabbing gash... Sort of the appearance to the mutant she'd just killed.
It went through the motions without fail- every time she emerged from solitude, she was attacked by one thing after another- she KILLED, one thing after another. There was no such day that went by out of being alone, where she could go about it quietly.
In the white ringing silence following her latest triumph- she found a sudden stringing-out- if you will -of her nerves that allowed a release in her kempt in breath.
A drawn out reptilian hiss left her jaws, she blinked, tongue flickering out to test the scents flowing weakly around.
The usual stale passage of long gone creatures and people was always evident- the death throes of the mutated animal at her feet was strongest.
The blood riddled space she stood in was a dip between some of the rocky hills that gridded unevenly about the land since the time of untimely destruction that humanity had reaped- it was hidden, and, in irony of prior mention -quite quiet.
She looked about the dead-plants that veined across the ground and the edges of the rock cliffs bordering her right side, the jagged raise in terrain of stone to her left.
Glancing at the carcass, she huffed, bent down on two slowly descending kneecaps- and brought up her claws.
Repugnantly- she took hold of the animal's frontal arm- the one upright and facing her -held it in a clasp, and started working her right claw's nail in a slicing motion through the hide from the shoulder blade, down to the foot.
She knew she was wasting material that another of her kind would never even think of spoiling- but the raggedy fur just... BOTHERED her.
She supposed there wasn't anybody, or anything, in her life to care, and certainly SHE didn't care.
-Thus what was the need for maintaining social norms of a Pack long dead?
She ground her teeth and started skinning the animal with more vigor.
Blood flowed from the wounds less as the mutant bear's bodily systems gradually stopped working from the absence of life- She drew her claw in a scrunching pull down what was crimson, bare bone- brought up a fistful of tough meat, flesh and organic matter- shoved it in her ajar gullet.
Her mind, her being, were utterly cursed with her granted intelligence- because being in her 'Enlightened' state as she was, she still had to LIVE like an animal.
Thus, bloody raw meat was always the thing she was forced to consume, and her own lack of comfort eating the garbage had made her thin during periods of time.
Because she had been introduced to human culture, human ethics and morality from birth (Wherever and however that had happened, she didn't know-) she could not appreciate some of the basic blessings animals would take from a meal of any type.
So when she killed something, she was inclined to... Well... PREPARE it, in some way shape or form, and had no knowledge or ability to do as such.
Her lifestyle made every eating session a ugly event that she tried to end as quickly as possible- she'd obviously become accustomed to it enough to actually DO it, and keep the food down -but it was never, EVER, a feel good moment when she had to.
She kept her eyes closed as she chewed, swallowed, forced suppressing her tongue's sense of taste as much as possible- carved up more quivering red -popped it in, and repeated.
The bear's arm, around the shoulder, and down towards the ribs started to devolve into a bone-strewn spread of crimson internals whilst she ate until full.
Eventually- she dragged a severed rib between her front teeth, huffed wetly- threw the bone away and turned back from the body.
Stepping back towards the growing levels of height from the lowered terrain- she shut her eyes tightly, and did her best to swivel her tongue about in her mouth to just clear it all and swallow.
Her foot made a splashing slosh of loose water whilst blindly she traveled- this caused her to stop and look at the little trailing puddle that had gathered in the miniature trenches that rung down towards the final resting place of her prey.
She saw her reflection dimly in the water- felt her arms drape as she stared at the tiny representation of herself.
There was a large, bipedal reptilian creature- slim towards midsection, with thin, yet toughly textured and layered arms that ended in claws capable of rending titanium.
She honestly believed she didn't look as... BRUTISH, she supposed- as other breeds.
She certainly wasn't appealing to behold though. Not in her opinion.
-Though as her lifespan continued to expand, her self-criticisms grew less and less frequent. She understood she was a frightening being that had been specifically DESIGNED to be frightening. Time and wear didn't help her hide, and her features had turned into a constant sneer.
Idly, she waved a claw down at the reflection and raised a brow when it obviously followed her every motion.
I wonder what humans do for past-time?
-THAT, was the most common question she would ask when she first got into the Wasteland as an adult, after her Pack had been exterminated.
I wonder what humans do for past-time? Do they sharpen claws? Groom their hides? Do they sleep? Communicate with other humans?
-As you could imagine, she was quite naive when she first started existing in the real world in solitary status.
That went away really fast.
The Enclave almost caught her two more times- one time, she was almost killed by a group of humans wielding rocket-propelled weapons. Human outlaws burned down an entire building she hid in when she was forced to end a few of them to escape into its floors.
Adventures, and close calls, were a common thing for her- she figured they were for anybody worth their while out here.
But just because the word 'Adventure' was in the description, did not at all mean it was a fun, exciting delve against the odds for a good cause. It wasn't a GOOD thing, it wasn't a HAPPY thing.
Sulking over the puddle- she flexed her jaw.
Considering all that, a moment lost in space was actually a relieving rest for her.
The Enclave hadn't tracked her yet, there weren't any other humans nearby, no other predators or creatures...
-But if she had anything worth having, those things wouldn't be a neverending worry for her in the first place.
...Holy hell, she was miserable.
Blinking solemnly, she reached down and pierced the veil of her reflection with a dipping nail- seeing herself waver away under the ripples of tan-ish water.
She was REALLY miserable.
Maybe going with a few ferals of her kind WASN'T such a bad idea after all... At least she'd blend.
-But no. Her pride, her anger, her negative emotions towards pretty much anything, and herself, would not allow that.
She flicked her nail from the puddle, stepped over it, and forgot about the entire thing after five steps.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Sanford was unbelievably pleased.
All in a few hours, and, behold- the entire setup needed to maintain his new find was in his defensible home.
The old shelves that had been unused by the rear of the station were now lined by the back wall of the bike-garage, all filled to their brims with cores needed to power his armor.
The actual suit was hung by the same holding clamp station they had disassembled and transported from the APC in the crater- The limbs had been detached from the main skeleton frame -he'd wheeled all the tools he had onto a cart by the side of the station.
Proudly, he stood in casual dress, arms bundled with measuring equipment he would use to get the exact specs on the internal components.
It was the most exciting thing that had happened in a very, very, VERY, long time for him.
All of the mechanical expertise he had acquired in his travels, could now be adopted to fixing, improving, and maintaining a device that would ensure amazing results, if his bravery pulled through.
The armor would soon compel Sanford to do things he would not have done before.
The armor, was going to propel him into the one-time adventure of his life. The adventure that no human being of the new, ruined world had ever scaled.
-But now, Sanford didn't even see any of that on the horizon.
He took out a mag-measure, stuck it around the armor's left ankle, and started jotting on paper.
Hancock couldn't even muster his usual antics- he helped Sanford with welding and lifting.
The only sounds resonating from the consistently flashing, and amber-glowing garage were the screams of tools, blow-torches, and thuds of hammers and wrenches.
"-I'm liking this... Check it out, redone!"
"Swell servos, sir!"
"And new joint hydraulics!"
"What'd you do to the knuckles, sir? They look... SPARKY."
"Make-shift tesla-arc setup."
"PERFECT!"
"Improved fiber-optics, scanning HUD and heat-sig overlay-"
"All the better to find victims and purge their maliciously-ousted faces!"
"-And finally, titanium alloy, melted over with EMP shield coating," Sanford wrung his grim-covered, sweaty knuckles against the metal. "Ready to go."
Sanford and Hancock were like spectators to observe the unveiling of a brand new revolutionary scientific discovery- here before them was a titan of metal, servo skeletons, and home-made mechanical improvements.
The X-01 Armor was truly a magnificently fearsome sight to behold in person- it just LOOKED mean on top of all this.
The metals were made of a long classified alloy that only the American Government and Military High-Command had known of in origin- and it was rare enough, that only a small number of the suits had been created before the Army's final topple.
This suit- by Wastelander standards -was pretty tricked out.
Sanford had spent an entire day, from morning to early NEXT morning, melting down materials in his workshop's smelter to form the right molds.
Applying them with scavenged applicative materials- bolting and welding into place, had taken several hours into that day's afternoon. Then, he had to disassemble the suit's outer plating to get at the skeleton beneath.
The gauntlets and boots were jettisoned from their connections, the breast plate was opened, unfurled, and removed- the helmet was uncoupled and slid off.
-THEN, because, why stop with what he had, yes? -Then, he rigged the internal skeletal frame pistons and joint connections, to channel 'Tesla Arc' energy from the fusion core processor in the back of the frame's body, to the gauntlet's knuckles.
If Sanford ever punched someone again, not only would it be like hitting them with a small freight train- but it would electrocute them too.
He'd gone insane with the helmet's internal drive and motherboard- putting in a heat-signature recognition overlay that he ripped out from an old gun he had modified to a heat-scope. He added a scan protocol to the motherboard's circuit mesh to report fluctuations of either heat, energy, physical movement, or atmospheric shift.
The suit had a automatic adjustment connection that would commune with the receivers in his gauntlets' that would yank his wrists in a steadying motion to any living target focused upon in his helm's center-vision.
So all of these upgrades and mods sounded amazing, and, they sounded unbeatable.
-But Sanford wanted to see for himself.
Nothing worked unless tested.
Smiling, he stood up on creaking knees and back bone to start walking around the proudly stood armor suit in the garage's center.
"-Alright, Han'- I'm gonna' take a nap." He said. "Then, you remember that place where we saw that big Raider band?"
"You mean... The factory two miles from here, sir?"
"No, the other one."
"-Uhmm... AH! The crazed bloodthirsty bastards by the shopping center!"
"Yeah. THEM."
"We're going to kill them? Are we? ARE WE?! Oh-how exciting! Sanford and Hancock, the duo of ultimate destructive badassery! Let's rip their esophagus's out and mail them to their mothers!"
"I'm taking a nap first..."
"Hurry up! Or I'm going without you!"
"Good luck. I'll scrape you off the sidewalk when I happen by..."
"What a dirt-eating pansy!"
"Just give me a few hours, alright?"
"FINE! I wasn't in the mood ANYWAY- I'll just... You know, float around, and atrophy..."
"Do that..."
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Have you ever experienced an explosion? A real explosion? One that occurred, maybe a short distance from you, or was so massive- that even with miles of garnered space between it and you -the blast was still processed in its full might?
And this is a question of reality- a REAL explosion, not like a firework, or something you'd hear on a volume-pumped radio, or a television set.
If the answer was 'No'- than you'd be unable to ever understand his plight.
Sanford could not describe the raw power, the strength, force and gravitational godliness of a burst like that.
The atmosphere would shift- like someone would nudge a soap-induced bubble in the froth of a bathtub - heat would wash over you in a melting sensation, your face would feel like a hot blanket was smothered across your mug.
You had the undeniable urge to blink, shut your eyes, recline and crouch away from the light- you'd feel your feet becoming less and less held to the ground by their heels, and the world around you would start to angle in the direction opposite the event.
Explosions were one of the things that never allowed him to sleep.
But it was THE explosion, as had been hammered into his mind- that almost NEVER allowed him to sleep.
Not even two hours after Mr. Tobs vanished in the back of his bedroom-converted chamber, Hancock heard a loud grunt, squeaking of mattress springs, and a frustrated THUD as Sanford punched a wall.
-If the robot could sigh- you know, when things like THIS happened -he would've.
But all Hancock could do was a make a static-garbled brush of noise from his vocal amplifiers. So he did just that, two eye-stalks raising over the top of his rounded chassis to view the humanoid shadow emerging from the area to his back.
Underneath the pump-shade, Hancock had his claw extended, and was holding out a crumbled bunch of breading- something he'd scooped out from the box in Sanford's food stores.
Nibbling away at the bread was a crow- and rest assured, it was not a 'Crow' as someone who had lived BEFORE the bombs, could describe.
Someone NOW, might call it an ugly, radiation-smacked excuse for a bird... -A lot more might just call it a 'Pest' or commonly- 'Dinner' -because all the nasty-looking birds in the world were good for, was either rations, or target practice to man.
The crow had a spindly body with two raptor-like miniature claspers that acted as its heels- a head supported by a wiry extension of bare skin- its neck- bent lower, two black beady eyes half-lidded, reptilian, scabby beak fiddling with the grain.
Hancock wasn't exactly expecting his friend to be up so soon- he shooed the bird away suddenly with a waving of his claw, and a retraction of the bread.
"-Off with ya! Shoo! Don't make me break out Clarice, you feathered-freak! BAH!"
The crow fluttered away, and Hancock flicked away the crumbs as Sanford idled up to him.
The boy looked utterly comatose- he was still in an undershirt, his eyes were half-closed, and he had a sneer that was still partially locked in the depths of exhausted REM status.
Hancock hovered higher from his lowered dip- saluted the human with a flick of a claw.
"-Aye, you're alive! Hoo-rah, sir!"
"You're still letting that damned bird into my bread box, aren't you?" Sanford muttered tiredly.
"Bird?! WHAT bird?! -I haven't seen any of the Commi' airborne pest-spies for weeks! Except that one... And I swatted him off! See? I'm a GOOD guard!"
Sanford wasn't buying it, crossed his arms and smiled lightly.
The Mr. Gutsy blinked all three ocu-lenses at him, and made a 'Shrug' with the ball-point digits that connected his limbs to chassis.
"I hate birds!"
"If you wanted a pet, Han', we should've found a cat or something..."
"Cats make my dust-filters take a crap! It's like a shirtless fat-ass ran up to me and rubbed their gut on my oxygen grille! It's awful!"
"Stop complaining and let's get a cat as a pet. Hell knows there are a bunch in need of a home..."
"-I'M TOO MANLY FOR PETS!"
"'Manly'? Wouldn't it be like... DROIDLY or something?"
"-'Droidly'? What kind of drag-queen you take me for?!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"'DROIDLY' is feminine! You slanted wax-application!"
"That's... Actually a term robots use...?"
"Yes sir, it is. I'd be more like, 'BOTLY' Yeah, ya' know- Botly Hancock! Kind of like, manly Sanford! Eh?"
"...Botly... Like, ro-BOT, is masculine?"
"-eeeeeEEEEYep."
"And... Droidly... Like, DROID, is feminine?"
"Rodger that, red-rooster."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of in my life."
"Stupid, but effective!"
"What part of your central processing did you say got 'Hit a few times'- Again?"
"The Data-Collection, and Interpretation section! Why?"
"No reason." Sanford drew a palm down his face. "Han', let's shut up and kill stuff."
"We're testing the suit?!"
"Yep."
"EX-CELSIOOORRRR!"
MNK!
-Hancock deafened his human companion in a scream across the pump-roof covered plat of the station.
Screaming out the proclamation an entire short, fast flight towards the entrance gate, where the robot promptly planted the front of his entire chassis into the wood paneling with a rumbling thud, falling onto the dusty earth with a brief flick of tan.
A few minutes later- still lying in a sprawl on the ground -Hancock lay motionless as Sanford's Power Armored legs arced over his fallen form, calmly pushed the code into the internal gate panel- and stepped outside the walled barricade wordlessly.
"C'mon, Han'! Lock up would you?"
-Came Sanford's voice from around a hill outside.
The robot zipped up in a motion no naked eye could track- slapped the gates shut, locked and coded them -zoomed towards where his friend had walked off to, chants of ass-kickery and poorly applied sticky notes echoing across the wastes.
-0-0-0-0-0-
The operation had been planned to proceed in a 'Delta' option, but due to the lack of intelligence on exactly WHERE the target in question was specifically- controlled effort to keep their heads down was not applied to the action out of pure impatience.
At the dead of the evening- not just pitch black nighttime yet -a flight of three type VB-02 'Vertibird' gunships sailed over the Commonwealth landscape with full crews of ten bodies each.
The craft were painted a black metallic, drab-ish/copper, and were emblazoned with faded white insignia depicting ownership by a faction that was not native to this area of post-apocalyptic North America.
People on the ground never figured, or even really tried to figure- WHO was flying some sort of contraption above their farms, homes, businesses, and at one point right above Diamond City in the center north of Boston's city zenith.
In a quick span of two hours- the three Enclave scanner vessels had firmly documented most of the geographic overlay of the Commonwealth- settlements and known activity of nearly all power brokers in the area were documented, and submitted to an orbital trans-continental uplink feed with a pre-war satellite in the lower orbit of Earth's irradiated atmosphere.
The Enclave high command was immediately aware of the new land they would soon by operating in- and the good news only became more delightful when one of the Vertibird teams called in a 'Priority Target'.
The specimen that had escaped their clutches for years was on the verge of being taken into custody.
A quick few commands belayed any attempts at landing and physically subduing the creature.
A call was made to the remains of Washington.
From the old capital military airfield, a fourth Vertibird lifted off for New England from its landing bay in the Enclave's machine-like territory.
The modified hull was unfurled, and a gunner team prepared their newest asset to rain hell on the creature their superiors drooled over.
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