CHAPTER 15
They Took me Home.
He was in amazement that even the green, overly muscular mutated freaks, had been able to lift all three of them combined.
Heaven knew how much he weighed in the Power Armor- especially since it was the X-01 model, one of the heaviest -and he didn't even try to figure out how much his reptilian friend weighed. Add in the 150 Ibs or so that Hancock weighed- they were pretty heavy.
As if to speak towards just how brutal they were when it came to physical prowess, endurance, strength- two of the larger Super Mutants simply stepped right up, threw each one end of the net-sack over their shoulders, and toted the entire crew no problem.
The Deathclaw had gone silent in her rantings, her shouts of anger- after a mere few minutes, and Hancock- bless his robotic soul -started TALKING to one of them.
"Wha'ar Commeez?" The Super Mutant carrying from the rear asked stupidly.
"What are COMMIES'?! Only the Red scourge plaguing the world, you sinister Hulk-wannabe!"
"Wrehd skuurj'?"
"Exactly! EXACTLY! You pompous chloroform-sucker! Communists are the bane of democracy, civilization- and anyone who DOESN'T have a pole stuck up their ass!"
"Polle?"
"YES! A pole! A pole, and an ASS! Speaking of- who wants to have THEIR ass kicked?!"
CLAK CLK CLAK
-Hancock must have wormed his Plasma gun to point outside the lines of the net- green bolts flew out, and the Super Mutant he'd been talking to dropped dead with a gaping hole in his head, tossing droplets of glowing goop.
The net tumbled, the Deathclaw cursed in French- Hancock was laughing maniacally, and started explaining how each and every one of the 'Hulk-Wannabes' must have been rebounded off the orphanage steps by their uncaring mothers.
The big leader- the mutant with the robotic arm decorated in skulls- stepped over the corpse of his minion, reached out- and got shot three times in the chest by plasma shots.
"-EAT MY PLASMA, YOU TWIG-CHEWING, DRUG-ADDICTED PAIR OF SOILED PANTIES!"
Sanford had been craning in his helmet to watch the whole ordeal- he wished his gun hadn't been tossed, he would've tried to shoot at the leader too.
The mutant stumbled back with wisps of neon-green cascading from welts drawn into his right breast- the flesh singed and melted, merged with the rags he wore like a coat.
Hancock was even silenced when the mutant head simply grunted off the pain- reached over a second time with his robotic hand, and clenched over something metal with a groaning creak.
CRK
-Then he twisted his fingers, and pulled.
ccccckkkkk-RRRKK
"Shutt' up, robo-peepol'." The Super Mutant stepped away with a bundle of crushed steel and electronics in his bunched fist- gesturing for another of his kind to pick the netting back up.
"Han'?! -What'd he take off?! Han'!" Sanford cried, suddenly panicked as the net was re-lifted by a new carrier.
Hancock was a complete douchebag- but what would he do with himself if that robot got smashed?
"Hancock?! C'mon, talk to me!"
"...That... That, THING, just tore off... mmmmmMMMMYYYY PLASMA GUN!" The buzzsaw started screaming wildly somewhere by Hancock's chassis. "-YOU FATHERLESS CUR! I'LL RIP OUT YOUR LUNGS! AND MAKE MUTIE' PATEE WITH THEM!"
"If they don't break you, I will." The Deathclaw snarled. "-BE QUIET."
"-You know what, birth-defect girl?! I've had enough of YOUR guff too! Sanford! SANFORD! Let's feed her to these tribal-whacks while we make a break for it!"
"Not an option, Han'..." Sanford sighed, relieved, somewhat.
"NOT AN OPTION?!"
"Nah."
"-Screw options! Ooga-booga bitch over there took my frikkin' gun! My GUN! God almighty! I FEEL NAKED!"
"-Han'?"
"-W-WHAT?! OH- I-I know... Y-YOU-! You bastards are going to try and take CLARICE next! AREN'T YOU?!"
"Han'... Oh, Han'?"
"-YOU CAN'T HAVE HER! SHE'S MIIIINNNNEEEE!"
"Han', please shut the hell up."
"I-! I... I'll... I'll do... -Damn it. Damn it all! We're doomed."
"Great, well, be doomed quietly until me and Ms. Deathclaw figure something out."
The Deathclaw wriggled below him.
"Stop calling me THAT."
"Gimme' a name, tootse'."
"What did you just call me, monsieur'?!"
"Then don't complain."
The Super Mutant leader barked a few unintelligible commands, or remarks- whatever the Super Mutants used to demand respect from each other -over to a few of the grunts surrounding him and their new catch.
Craning his helmet to view through the net- Sanford could see they had been taken some distance from the mill- but the land was still wet, the clouds gray and darker from the encroaching end of the afternoon- they were still in the coast.
The mutants had been carrying them for at least a mile or two- it had to be close. Steel girders passed by on both sides of their trek, like pillars in a hallway. Grotesquely, Sanford could note wire bags of heaps of raw, bloody meat tied to and wrapped around several of the sharpened pylons.
Skeletons of humans were crucified on some of the giant pikes that only the Super Mutants could position and carry as such through their massive strength- smaller stakes driven through the earth everywhere had skulls, and even fresh and rotting heads.
The smell was atrocious- the scent of rot, decay, feces and all manner of bodily systems being spilled out and left to become putrid.
They were in the midst of the Super Mutant owned camp, or fort, or area- and those places were always horrid. Sanford knew from his earlier scavenging years of stealing from mutant compounds.
While Sanford grimaced beneath his helmet- the constant hammock-like swaying to and fro in the net jolted, and became quick. The Super Mutants carrying them huffed, and suddenly, the three of them were falling.
The Deathclaw made a gasping sound, and Sanford cried out briefly- before their voices were cut short, and they made contact with the dirt in a dusty puff, and metallic clank as Hancock took the brunt of the fall.
"-AGH! Man down!" Hancock garbled. The Deathclaw splayed a bit more, and his speech became muffled. "-MEDIC!"
"-Oof! -AH- H-hey! Wait one' sec'!" Sanford struggled to tug his arms at the lines of the net. "-Both of-AH-Hey!-Both of you-STOP!" He barked.
The Deathclaw was heaving, she stilled- and Hancock just didn't do anything all together.
"Calm down! We're gonna' get outta' here! We'll kill EVERYTHING, and we'll fix our problem!" Sanford listed off, shifting underneath the Deathclaw's enwrapping arm over his waistline. "-Understand?"
"Monsieur'," The Deathclaw huffed tiredly. "-I HATE you."
"Thanks."
"I just want you to know that right now... I HATE you."
"So glad to be of freaking service... Now, hold on just one... Minute..."
Gazing around, Sanford could see they had been dropped in a pit several feet deep- there was a square opening above them, and there was darkness surrounding the level they lay in.
It was like they were in an underground cell of sorts.
These mutants were sick.
Sanford tried to squint, and got bucked when the Deathclaw shifted in her position again. Becoming annoyed at the claustrophobic squeeze- he was aware that it was first priority to un-tether them. THEN, they could talk about the environment.
Sanford tested both of his arms in their respective gauntlets- found one to be less stiff then the other -and started worming it, angling his helmet down to watch with lines he had to work with.
The net shifted, Hancock's chassis squeaked, Sanford grunted- a rope tore, and his plated gloved hand was held before his visor- he flexed his fingers.
"Ha! Hey, guys! I got an arm free."
"That's brilliant, monsieur', very brilliant..." The Deathclaw purred sarcastically. "-AHEM?"
"Jeez', I said I'd figure it out, tootse', give me a second..."
"-You little- I'll let them eat you, monsieur'."
"Uh-huh."
Sanford blinked over the activation rune within his internal HUD of the helmet, towards the small Tesla couplings that he had wired into the knuckles of his gauntlets. They were originally intended to help in a melee situation- but if it fried the netting, that would be good too.
Inching his arm down, he worked the crease of his knuckle over one of the net's lines- and heard a sizzling snap.
WHK!
-The rope flicked in two, a small pillar of steam coming from the material.
Sanford grinned, looked up at the entrance of ringing soil above their heads- and started getting his knuckle's joints to hover over another line.
WHK!
"I'll have us out soon..." He muttered.
WHK
WHK
"So, birth-defected iguana," Hancock said as Sanford continued breaking them free. "How's crimes?"
"Please short-circuit yourself."
"I love you too! -Sir? Can I set HER on fire?"
"I'd like to see you try, robot."
"BIGOT!"
WHK
"Both of you, please stop- you'll attract their attention..." Sanford chided quietly, eyes narrowed at the netting.
"This sucks." Hancock stated.
Another line snapped, and the crushing confines of the netting relaxed a bit.
The Deathclaw sighed when her legs became less held together- she draped a bit, feeling horribly uncomfortable at having the socially impaired robot jutting into her spine underneath her.
She arced her head as far it could go in all directions- to get some idea of where they were.
It looked like a small stone, square cell surrounded them in the dark- a mesh grate of black bars, really thin ones- acted as a sort of makeshift cage of four walls around the base of where the dug out pit above dropped to.
The Super Mutants had probably found an old basement and had sealed the regular entrances- dug a hole that lead to it from the top -and turned it into a meat-locker for cattle. Disgusting.
Flicking her tongue to test the air- she reclined in horror at the smells she picked up.
"Monsieur'? I'm cramping here."
"-Almost there..."
"-So is Christmas, sir!" Hancock interrupted. "I'm gonna' lace these Mutie's holiday cards with anthrax!"
"If you both just shut up, I'll be done quicker..."
WHK
The net unfurled like a blooming flower- Sanford rolled off the Deathclaw to the side, taking her arm with him towards the ground- he flung up his armored palms, caught his fall before managing flattening the creature's wrist under himself.
Grunting from the tumble- there was a hollow thud of steel, the Deathclaw stopped her own fall by slapping a claw over Sanford's back- Hancock flew out from underneath her with a blast of fire.
"-I'M FREEEE-!"
The Deathclaw was nudged forwards when the rest of the torn netting was sucked out from under her- Hancock appearing as a shining, miniature comet with a flailing, translucent curtain of multi-layered rope trailing behind him.
The robot surged forwards, still screaming of his new freedom, and then, ironically- he hit the black bars that made the makeshift cage around them.
CLUNG
"-APHF!" Hancock flattened against the bars, indented a sphere-like protrusion into the cage's side, and crumpled down from the impact after an all-too perfect moment of levitation within the metallic buff he had made.
It sounded like a pile of tin cans was collapsing- the Mr. Gutsy sprawled out with all his arms across the ground, one eye-lens lifting slowly to examine the damaged bars.
"-T-They have... Anti aircraft fiiirrreee... SIR." He reported dutifully.
"Holy Christ, you okay?" Sanford asked the Deathclaw.
"FINE." She frowned, pushing off his back. "Stand up, monsieur'."
As the human adjusted a full stand to compensate for her wrist, subsequent arm still hooked into his gut- he looked up at her taller head to see her fuming with a sneer.
Clenching her jaw, the reptile blinked at him, and nodded at the mess Hancock had made of himself.
"So, your plan?"
"...They put us in a metal barred cage?" Sanford asked, looking around both shoulders, and then at Hancock. "Wow. Super Mutants really are stupid."
"-YEP! I'm PERFECTLY fine, sir! THANK YOU for asking!" Hancock barked from the floor.
"Oh you're fine... It's not like you rattled your central processor."
"-And you just KNOW that, right, sir?!"
"You're still talking. It's still functioning."
"A comedian!"
"A RobCo-smart person, more so... And, hey- on the positive, you earned us our way out."
Sanford nudged the Deathclaw forwards with an angle of his hips- he trotted towards where Hancock lay in a jumbled mess, the reptile- annoyed -following with her arm stuck out and half hugging his side.
Taking both his gauntlets- Sanford held the center two, dented rungs in the indent his deranged robot had created- wrapping his fingers, he started pulling in opposite directions. Heaving from the effort, one of them- whether Hancock or the Deathclaw -was about ready to call it quits on the attempt.
However Sanford wouldn't be defeated so easily- he kept pulling, the arms of his suit quivering.
A moan of flimsy metal, and then-
CRK!
-The bars jerked apart, forming a space Sanford could fit his head through.
The Deathclaw went wide eyed, and leant forwards to give the human more leverage with her stuck arm.
"-I- I GOT it-!" Sanford struggled. "-Just-ONE more-"
CRRKKkrrrkrkk
The Power Armor croaked loudly- he stumbled a single footfall out of the breach- but overall, the job was done perfectly. There was an angular gap he had split the bars into- it was enough for his un-armored torso to fit through.
Growing bold, Sanford clenched the bars of the lower chin of the breakage he'd made- and pulled apart.
CRK! Crkrk
The gap was now as tall as he was, disgorging the black shadows of the room into the cage's center- illuminated by the mere sheen coming from the square hole above.
Giving into a quick bout of compulsiveness- Sanford reached down and tugged the lower sections of the bars further, reaching around Hancock's chassis. Standing back, he rung his knuckles on the rounded flank of the robot's body, becoming less than musing.
"-Alright, Han', we're clear. No more of... You know- THIS."
"I'll play dead if I WANT to!"
"Get up."
"NEVVA'!"
"Fine, we'll leave you- come on, Deathclaw."
Ducking through the torn bars, Sanford did his best to keep the gut section of his armor presented towards the reptile so she could keep up- her taller form forcing a hunched-over dip through the opening of the cage.
"Good?" Sanford asked.
"Fine." She hissed.
Glancing around the chamber, Sanford spotted all kinds of broken shipping crates, barrels- mounds of garbage layered the floor, and a stone staircase lead to a dark corridor several feet higher than their current level.
Pointing at the small flight- Sanford patted his palm on the Deathclaw's upper thumb.
"Check it out- that's our ticket."
"It's probably trapped." She reminded.
"Of course it is," Sanford laughed. "-Han', stop being a Communist and get out of the cage."
"-WHATDIDYOUCALLME?!"
The robot flew out like a projectile missile from the torn opening in the cage- was at Sanford's side, and was poking him with the edge of his inactive buzzsaw.
"I AIN'T NO RED!"
"Uh-huh- cover our backs, will you?"
"I oughtta'..."
Pebbles flecked down from the square opening above the cage. There were voices- deep ones.
"-'EY! Whare da' oomie go?!"
"I dunno!"
"Boss is' gunna' get angree'!"
"I have idees'!"
"Gud' finkin'!"
Sanford blinked, and flinched when a loud, metallic clap sounded from the floor behind the bars.
An object- highlighted in a sheen of white from the small light above- descended in a rock-hard fall from above, clattered off the stone ground once, and settled in a final two-fro rock against the cage's back wall.
Egg-shaped with fins jutting from its back- the metal device started making sounds.
WIIM- a group of servos whined.
CLK-CLK
Sanford narrowed his eyes at the rounded thing the Super Mutants above had let into the underground cell- took a step to start working around the Deathclaw's flank.
"I don't like that, monsieur'..." She warned.
"Umm... SIR, the Communist has some really crappy news for you!" Hancock startled. "NOT GOOD!"
"But, what is-" Sanford's speech was interjected by a digital repeating pattern.
CLCK-CLK
BEEEP-BEEEP-BEEEP-BEEEP-
-A red flare bloomed and grew dark again and again from the object's top.
Sanford's jaw dropped.
"Oh... My GOD."
"There's the bad news, sir! Now- we should flee! And flee fast!"
"What is he talking about, monsieur'?"
Sanford reached over, and wrapped his metal arms over the Deathclaw's midsection.
"RUUUUNNNNNN!"
-In a jumbled mess, the trio rolled and stumbled up the flight of steps, the Deathclaw cursing her chops off, Sanford still screaming, and Hancock starting to rant about how fate was a conniving, promiscuous woman.
The miniature warhead, then, at ironic cue- detonated.
-0-0-0-0-0-
When the actual drive of the equipment was charged and primed for usage- it made a tiny whirring sound, like a small drum that came off as a miniaturized thrum of a spinning rotary blade. The gun ran off of specialized 'Slugs' created to be chambered with each blast- so it was critical, as, seeing they only had four per man -that each shot count.
The Tesla Cannons were big, bulky, unforgiving weapons that would prove either completely useless, or self-destructive in the hands of a non-Enclave trained soldier- and there was also the debate, that they would prove useless even WITH a trained Enclave soldier.
Laslar was aware that this fight about to be engaged, was one of tens currently playing out in the Enclave's many wars that would make or break the production line of the Tesla Cannon.
He stood, stonefaced- seeing the small forms of the Tesla operators staying behind in their original position, waiting for the go-ahead when he and sergeant Luft engaged the Brotherhood defense line.
Taking an extreme risk- he peered above the pile of debris he pressed to, to observe the fortifications a final time- seeing the armored bodies of Brotherhood soldiers hunkered down, and idly strolling about like the overconfident bastards they were.
Grinding his teeth- he waited for three other 'Confirmation Blips' set up in the HUD of his Power Armor's helmet to light green, instead of red. All of the individual units he had established- the two men with the Cannons, Luft and his rifleman, Ruffous and his heavies- would get proper positioning, before setting their ticks to green.
The Cannonmen were at green- and soon, Luft's signal turned green too.
The plan was that Laslar would draw fire from one side, and Luft from the other at the trench that was dug before all the Brotherhood defenses.
Once engaged, the Tesla Cannon wielders would fire into the fortifications, and Laslar and Luft would buy time retreating for them to relocate and fire again.
It wasn't perfect by far- Laslar was working with limited resources, and the losses here would not only prove crippling locally to his own intentions if they occurred, but the assets going INTO those losses, would also be permanently extinguished.
They were deep in D.C.- there WAS no recovery of bodies here.
The armor and weapons were lost with the man here a lot- the constant fighting made scavenging and recovery nigh impossible.
So, with a heavy breath- Laslar saw Ruffous and Luft ping green, and he grabbed his communication's bead.
"-Go! Fire!"
-He then stood, and aimed over the relatively bumpy- yet singularly leveled -terrain, at the closest exposed silver-armored THING he could find.
There was a Knight standing rather high from inside the trench.
Laslar shut one eye, and fired.
CLAKCLKCLK
-The tri-shot Archer loosed off a concentrated trio of green blobs- and even from his distance, Laslar could make out the Brotherhood man's head popping like an overgrown zit.
With everything above and between the shoulders eviscerated- the Knight crumpled down, arms rigid at the corpse's hips.
"Incoming fire!" -Someone distantly shouted from the Brotherhood lines.
Laslar cursed, ducked, and was graced with the repeated hissing and slacking kicks of tens of bullets being sprayed all over his position. He heard everything- assault rifles, rifles, heavy guns- it sounded like one of the Brotherhood had a minigun.
Fire chewed up the debris above his head and by his shoulder- Laslar heard a tumbling clak-clkck-clk -amid all the impacts, and looked down in horror at a yellow-highlighted, gunmetal-colored ridged device that rolled to settle right where his boot was.
"SHIT-!" He screamed out of reaction- wrapped his fingers over the grenade's side, and hauled it in a long arc toss over his head.
BMMM
-Dust and pebbles flecked from ahead of him as the grenade went off.
"LUFT! Your end?!" Laslar called into the communication uplink.
"Suppressed! Wounded!"
"How bad?"
"Forearm. Flesh-wound- still able!"
"Stay down! -Tesla Cannons, FIRE!"
In the distance one of the operators stood to his full height, aimed the great gun from the shoulder.
Laslar saw a flash of light- and a blue arc of shining energy scythed through the air, and cut somewhere above the skyline directly over his head.
WVVVVMMMM
-The Cannon made a distinct cry- and unseen directly by Laslar- punched into an array of sandbags with a brown-bloomed flower of smoke, sparks, brief licks of flame- the crescent of sandbags and the group of Brotherhood behind it vanished in a burst of dirt and soot.
Laslar heard the impact from where he was, smiled at the actual proof of people in the Capital Rig doing their damned jobs- he saw the other Cannon wielder fall one-kneed beside where the other had shot.
WVVVVVMMM
-The arm of blue light punched clean through one of the scrap bunkers- making an orange highlighted crevice that tore into the front face of the structure, went inside, and made the entire bunker implode from the inside out.
PMMMMM -The explosion was so tall, that when Laslar looked at the sky from behind his ducked cover- he still saw the top tip of the fiery burst's receding bubble.
"-AH! It's beautiful!" He laughed.
The Cannonmen had already vanished from their first position, relocating somewhere. The fire peppering Laslar's position faltered in the aftershock of the twin massive explosions.
Standing, he aimed out of cover, and fired the rest of his battery into the trench-line- not taking the time or precision to see if he actually wounded or killed anybody.
Laslar sprinted back the way he came, winding between upraises of rubble and broken cars to avoid any shots hitting him in the back. The refractor field generated from his armor flickered once, and he kept swinging his arms and legs frantically.
He heard Luft barking something about falling back- but Laslar was too overdriven to process it.
He swung behind a car, crouched, changed his gun's battery- and aimed over the hood.
Some of the Brotherhood were still standing out of the trench's top- he saw one, took a second to aim, and loosed off two bursts.
The green blobs pattered and flickered in kicks of dirt and sparks all around the Brotherhood soldier's gut- and since Laslar was carrying probably the most potent anti-infantry rifle on the field here -the improved systems of his Archer let the plasma eat through.
The man's gun flung away, he wrapped his forearms over his midsection and rolled down into the trench.
"Cannons?" Laslar cried into the mic.
"Ready."
"Ready."
"Fire!"
WVVVVMMMM
WVVVMMM
-Two more mushroom clouds of fiery dirt and soot formed plumages from the Brotherhood fortifications.
"Ruffous! Cover us! All units, fall back!"
"Affirmative, firing."
Spheres of blue flame flew over his position like a swarm of meteors- two red trails of laser rounds cut overhead, and the steaming trail of a missile contoured the tannish gray sky.
Laslar ran for his life- and the whole time, before he reached the outskirts of the plaza, and rung around the large, fallen wall of rubble Ruffous and his men used for cover- he was LAUGHING.
The Tesla Cannons worked.
That was hopeful.
It was the best god-damned thing he had seen in months.
Compressed to the wall of rubble- he watched the men to test this theory round the bend, and stand before him, panting, armor scuffed and scorched, heads hung, Cannons draped over shoulder plates.
Sergeant Luft appeared from the east eventually- standing atop a mound of rubble that bordered their position from an array of skulking skeletons of buildings in the backdrop. He held his one arm limp, the other a Plasma pistol in clasp.
"I think we're clear, Superintendent!" He called.
"Where's your boy?" Laslar replied.
"Dead." Luft said when he hopped down to their level on the street- cracking the pavement. "We need to go."
"Alright, Ruffous, fall back!"
The heavies backed away from their firing positions behind the slabs of concrete and torn piles that they had started and hid from- weapons still blazing.
The Brotherhood, interestingly, did not pursue when they ran clear through the open plaza, and back towards the streets they had emerged from to mount the assault.
-But Laslar didn't particularly care.
The Tesla Cannons worked.
And that made him very, VERY happy.
-0-0-0-0-0-