CHAPTER 20
Tumble and Fall.
So far, that had been the only thing to greet them throughout each building they entered- big, fat, ugly, and stout, little irradiated roaches- the most common form of pest to befall the wastes since the end of the Great War.
Sure, it got mixed up a bit- there was SOME variety- a few mutated flies skittered out from windows, or behind cabinets or from INSIDE cabinets in one case- Sanford spent most of his time- 'Fighting'- here, by using his boots and fists to just squash everything.
Apparently this place was bug-town- who knew?
They had crossed the street after sitting down for that brief, yet, strangely powerful moment on the stoop of the house beforehand. The Deathclaw was obviously bothered by what he had said- and he was at first afraid she had taken it as an insult- but, she kept smiling at him whenever he cracked his usual jokes, so, he stopped worrying.
Then, perhaps it wasn't- 'Bothered' -that was the proper adjective- maybe just -'Thoughtful'- it didn't really matter, just more things for him to internally debate. What was really, BUGGING him- (He regretted nothing) -was the copious mutated insect life everywhere.
Something was up with this place- there were no people, there were no animals or beasts- there weren't even Feral Ghouls. All there was, were the roaches and flies- there weren't even BLOODBUGs here, and those things hung out in the filthiest of dumps that the Bloatflies considered trips to the kitty-pool.
It was just weird- out of place. Sanford could see a sewage plant, or the actual sewers having this degree of an infestation- he'd heard stories that farther towards D.C. and Virginia, that there were colonies of giant ants that populated ruins like this.
Sanford wasn't entirely uninformed about bugs- he knew, post-apocalypse or not- roaches didn't make colonies, and neither did Bloatflies. Something was up- he noted it to the Deathclaw as they left the last house of the block- empty, save for a few now-smashed roaches.
"What's the deal with the bugs?" Sanford asked her- glancing briefly while he scraped his yellow, green, bile-encrusted boot heel on the sidewalk with metallic drags on the pavement. "It's just odd, right?"
"I guess I just don't see it in another light, monsieur'," She shrugged- snapping her head down to follow a small Radroach as it crawled from underneath a rusty pickup truck's hood- hopped onto the street- and clicked its mandibles at her.
Grimacing- she reached down and jabbed one of her claw's nails through its carapace- center back- the thing squealed, and she flicked the corpse away like one would do to someone's nose they were having a sissy-fight with.
"I admit, it's getting annoying."
"You think it has anything to do with this gun we're looking for?"
"Do we even know, for certain, it's a gun?" She squinted. "Pour l'amour de' Dieu', it could be an automobile part for all we know..."
"I doubt it," Sanford shook his helmed head. "I really doubt it. I've been working on guns way too long to not know one when I see it."
"Then what is it's ammunition source, monsieur'?" She asked timidly. "All I saw was a soft drink- an apparently toxic, soft drink- on that schematic."
"...Well, did you ever think, that..." He rolled his eyes with a laugh. "-That PERHAPS, the soda-"
BMM
-...
-No, neither of them stepped on another roach.
Nor were they near anything that was made of wood- to have made that noise.
Raising his brow in surprise- Sanford looked both directions on either side of where he stood- he turned around on wheeling boots to the house they had just finished searching, and angled closer in interest.
The Deathclaw was stilled- watching him, watching the house. The nails on her fingers unsheathed from their holdings- her jaw clenched, and her tail was slowly curling back and forth in the air with a sense of anxious curiosity.
Huh- MAYBE, they had spoken too soon about this town being entirely empty.
BMM
BM BM
-It was something made of wood- and it was thrashing, under the duress of being impacted by something. Something getting hit by something- blunt, but accurate for how much information they had to go off of.
Sanford looked back at her and shrugged.
"-Where's that coming from, I reckon?" He smiled. "I bet you it's another freakin' roach, you watch."
"That doesn't sound like one of the insects." She warned.
"-Fine, a really BIG roach." He waved a gauntlet- stepping over to the side of the house- there was a short little white fence, the gate missing, having long snapped off. Sanford walked between the two rotted pegs where the gate once was, into the tallgrass-laden backyard.
"I think it came from here." He called over his shoulder.
"Are you sure?" She asked, glancing both ways down the road- she reached up and started teething over her index finger's nail as she trotted after him. "Monsieur', be cautious."
"I'm trying- I'm trying..."
BMM
BMM
BM-BM
BM
-Sanford found the source of the racket- and it originated right before the broken backdoor of the house- from a pair of rickety, cracked, wooden doors, that were sealed in an upwards angled arch that lead to the most dreaded room of rooms in the old horror movies.
The cellar.
There were a pair of cellar doors- right there, and they were now unmoving, as Sanford leaned over them with a whining of servos and creak of steel- he cocked his helmet at the rusty handles, and kept his pistol drawn at his side.
The Deathclaw rounded the corner of the house after him- stopped on the edge of the lawn- looking at him, and moving over when he waved her.
"Down there," He muttered, nodding at the cellar doors. "You're right, that isn't a bug."
"Should we wait?" She suggested- opening her claws, splaying her metal-rending nails in preparation. "We could take whatever is by surprise."
"...But, don't you think- if it were a hungry, angry predator from here- that it would be, you know... Screaming? Snarling? Hissing?
BMM-BMM
-The doors shuddered, and small tendrils of dust bounced off in a sheet from the wood panels.
A metal rustling sound was heard- the rusty handles jerked and quaked- there was an exasperated grunt from within, and the doors were hit again- a little harder.
BMM-BMM
BM
"Holy FUCK! I can't break the lock! I can't break the God-damned lock!"
"-OH, Oh... Yeaaahhh... That's, uhm... That's no roach," Sanford stepped back. "And that isn't a predator either, I don't think."
"...Is that, a human?" She whispered, eyes wide.
"Sounds like it?"
"Should we... Let him out, monsieur'?"
"...I dunno..."
"What if he's a settler? An innocent person?" She sounded a bit frantic. "-A-And there's a scorpion chasing him? O-Or something, Sanford?"
"-Look, I just... You can't trust people-"
"HEY! Hey-uhm- GERALD! Yeah! -N-NO-no, I'm up HERE, you loon! I think I hear somebody out there!"
Sanford and the Deathclaw looked at each other.
"...Screw that! We're dead anyway! I'm calling for help- YO! Hey! Hello? HEL-LO?! Can you hear me?! Let us out! HELP! FUCKING HELP!"
BMM-BMM-BMM
"-Look- whoever you are- I'll pay! Just open the damn doors! PLEAASSSEEE-!"
"-STOP THAT! Stop that, RIGHT. NOW."
BMM-fmm-bm-bm
bm
"-Ahem- ah- Excuse me? Hello? Is someone out there? We could really use a hand. Hello?"
Sanford- bewildered- blinked, and shook his head.
"Ahm- H-HI! Y-Yeah... Hi, I'm... I'm here?"
"How ya' doin' pal? We've been trapped down here for, oh, I dunno', a week or two? I'd really appreciate it if you could help us open this door."
"...Yeah, I can... I can do that, w-who are you?"
"Name's Gerald- the baboon hitting the door before, that's Fred- we're a little worse for wear, don't shoot us if you got a gun, please? We won't try to eat you or nothin'..."
"...Hold on, I'll get the doors-" The Deathclaw gawked at him- and Sanford raised his arms in animation. "No-no! Don't give me that look! You were having a fit before about me NOT letting them out!"
"Who are you talking to? How many of you are there?"
"-Ahm... Me, and..." He looked at her- and she stood there, pale, unknowing of what to say. "-And a friend. She's... Not... Exactly...-"
"GOOD GOD! Whoever you are! LIBERATE MEEEEE!"
BMM-BMM-BMM-BMM
BM-FM-bmm-bm
bm
"Pipe-down you twit! Look- buddy, brother- help us out? Please? It's been days."
"Oh... Yep, here I come."
Bending down- Sanford holstered his pistol to its magnetic grip on his armor's hip- he clenched his gauntlets' fingers over the handles of the doors, heard them squeak and protest.
He sighed- took a deep breath, and nodded at the Deathclaw to be ready.
He yanked back all at once- the handles shattered into a million rusty pieces- clinging and rattling through the air, off the doors and the ground in chiming, glittering sprawls. The doors flung open- belching out a small mushroom cloud of dust and airborne particles.
A stone staircase wrapped in darkness, only broken by some small light source down below was visible for almost a full second- before a rotted, skin-draped, hideous, open-mouthed, wide-eyed face blocked it from Sanford's helm's eye slots.
It was a Ghoul. It was a Ghoul, and the friggin' thing looked like it was going batshit-insane.
"-HOLY FUCK!" Sanford leapt back- yanked the pistol from his grip- and had just started to aim it at the thing- when the zombified horror shot right past him- scrambled to the center of the house's lawn- and fell on its knees- LAUGHING.
"OH-HO-HO! OHHHHHHH! YEAH! HA-HA-!" The Ghoul raggedly choked, pumping its fists into the air with raised arms and head. "SUNLIGHT! Badda-bing! I'm free! H-Hey- Gerald! WE'RE free! Yah-ha!"
Sanford had let his fingers slip away from the gun- and he stood there with his hands over his helmet- shocked, appalled- unknowing of what was happening.
"-P-People?!" Sanford asked. "So there ARE people here?!"
The Deathclaw was gawking at him again- she was expecting some kind of Ghoul comment, followed by a gunshot from his side arm- yet, she heard him address the beast as a... Person.
What was the deal with that?
"-Oh man- YOU, yes you, sir- Sir, by God as my witness," The Ghoul croaked- standing up and turning around- red and brown flesh that looked like it had started to melt off his body, and then re-solidified- shining in the morning sun. "-Thank you a million-"
The Ghoul went silent- his mouth flapping open again and again- as the speech was sucked from his throat.
He looked at the Deathclaw- and he looked at her with such wide eyes- that Sanford was concerned they were going to roll out of his head.
"OH MY GOD!" Came another raggedy voice from behind them. Sanford and his reptilian companion turned back to the cellar doors- and there stood, ANOTHER Ghoul- with a welding mask, flipped up- on his head, and completely bald on his irradiated scalp. "DEATHCLAW! IT'S A TRAP! FRED! RUN BACK IN!"
"I HATE MY LIFE!" Fred cried- sprinting for the cellar door- he ran with arms extended- leapt into the air, in a spectacular display of panicked acrobatics- and missed the doors completely to the left, where he rolled through the grass, and ploughed into the paneling of the back of the house.
Dust flew everywhere- and some of the paneling cracked noisily.
Angling to view over the still open doors- Sanford had not removed his gauntlets from atop his helmet- and watched, speechless, as the mound on the floor twitched, and this Ghoul- this Fred- lazily raised his head and shoulders.
"-I-I'm not hurt!" He sputtered in report. "-I just lost a tooth- I'm fuckin' good! It was the cavity one anyhow-!"
"...Mister, I dunno' what kind of narcotics my friend here was smoking, but the fumes obviously reached me too," Came in a tiny croak from inside the cellar doors. "Cause' all I see, is a seven-foot Deathclaw behind you, man."
Sanford lowered his arms and peered into the cellar entrance to see the second Ghoul- welding mask still up, and wearing a set of overalls with a white mechanic's shirt under that- huddled up on the stone steps, quivering, eyes locked to the Deathclaw.
The other Ghoul was looking from over the door flipped open on his side.
Sanford considered them- coughed, and pointed at the Deathclaw.
"-S-She's... Friendly," He stuttered. "She won't hurt you."
"-Naw-naw, NO WAY, man!" Fred snapped. "Too much Jet! Too much Jet! Too much Jet! Too much fuckin' Jet! NO! Nope! WEE-WAH, WEE-WAH, WEE-WAH!"
-While the obvious drug addict continued ranting back there- the Ghoul that had been termed, Gerald- stood from inside the doors, still glancing nervously at the reptile.
"-Y-you have a... a DEATHCLAW?" He quivered. "That's- AMAZING."
"Well, I don't HAVE her, she travels with me," Sanford said, smiling at her. "She hasn't given a name, but-"
"-W-What do you mean?"
"I can communicate just fine, monsieur'." She addressed him lowly- still examining the melted appearance of his flesh.
Gerald jumped when she spoke- pointed wildly at her, and then at Sanford.
"-W-WHA-THE?! I-It speaks?!"
"She." Sanford corrected.
"SHE-Speaks?!"
"Yep."
"ASTOUNDING! A scientific discovery no-less!" Gerald practically shouted. "-W-Who are you? How'd you find us?!"
"Name's Sanford, this is my traveling friend- she hasn't given a name, so I just call her Ms. Deathclaw," He shrugged- earning a bewildered expression from the Ghoul. "We heard, Fred? Right? Yeah, we heard Fred banging on the door."
"Unbelievable," Gerald planted a palm on his forehead with a wet slap. "-You hear that? If this man was a group of Raiders- we'd be FUCKED!"
"WEE-WAH-WEE-WAH-!"
"-Oh, for Christ's- SO, Sanford, eh? I'm Gerald, that's Fred, yadda-yadda', you know already," The Ghoul rolled a wrist, standing higher from the steps, and leaning a forearm on the edge of the open doors, still jutting up from the arch. "You saved us, man."
"How'd I save you?" Sanford quirked a brow.
"We've been trapped in Fred's basement for a week- or, AROUND a week, I stopped counting days..."
"How'd that happen?"
"Haven't you run into the fuckin' Radroaches?"
"...Yeah, but... This house seemed, relatively tame compared to the other ones."
"Well, it wasn't so- 'Tame'- a few days ago- the whole neighborhood is swarming with them."
"Why is that? Do you know?"
"...Ahm... Ha-WELL, see, me and Fred have been, uhm..." The Ghoul frowned nervously- still glancing at the Deathclaw- he snapped his fingers over the other door until Fred quieted somewhat. "Hey, buddy, get back in here- go suck on one of your Jet reserves."
"Woo! Gettin' the fix?"
"The fix."
"The FIX! Yeah-hah!"
Sanford was boggled at how fast the other Ghoul stood up- dashed between the conversation, and vanished inside the cellar past Gerald.
Gerald closed his eyes and sighed with a heavy rasp- he looked at the Deathclaw again, and swallowed.
"Look, I got a LOT to explain to you, if you're willing to hear it- to be honest, man, we need help, a LOT, of help here."
"Well, are there other people here?"
"Nope, just us- but we know what's causing the roaches to swarm."
"And I'm guessing you want me to help you kill and-or blow it up?"
"I'll pay, man. I'll pay good."
"-You got guns?"
"A few."
"Lend me some, and maybe we can work something out."
-0-0-0-0-0-
So, you wanna' know what the greatest pride of the whole day was?
It had nothing to do with the individual traveling, it had nothing to do with running into a fine lass' that obviously was head-over-heels for him- and it had nothing to do with getting into a big firefight by himself without Sanford.
The thing that made Hancock absolutely bawling with laughter, PRIDE, and exasperation- was the gigantic, flame kicking, building demolishing, asshole merc' flattening, hill bulldozing- EXPLOSION, that Clarice had made with that warhead.
The shack was just... GONE.
It was a skidmark- and so were all the little screaming, Raider turds that had been hanging out around it. Even half the Gunners were dead- and Hancock now thoroughly set his sights on eviscerating the last of them.
As such- the survivors of the front ranks- the ones that had been advancing on the shack when it was- bluntly- NUKED, were cut down in green swathes of fire as Hancock rapidly loosed off barrages of plasma.
CLAK CLK CLAK CLAK -The gun barked with each discharge- green bursts of liquidized energy and blood splashing from ruined chests, stomachs and heads- the latter of which, were met with highly stated- 'HA! Headshot!'s from Hancock.
The men hanging over the now dead officer that had been leading them, scrambled to stand up and retrieve their guns- but Hancock shot the two of them dead before they could even stand up straight- two blasts each man, right in the head and ribs.
Bullets flickered off his hide in a few clumps of sustained fire- and Hancock's lower chassis spiraled with a whir of motors- bathing a nearby Gunner in flame from the thrower mounted below the Plasma gun.
The woman screamed and flailed her arms everywhere- spinning around in sickening wheels of her legs- she tried to force aiming an assault rifle she held- but the weapon discharged the remaining clip into the ground, and it flew away when she fell on her back.
The hollering stopped when Hancock shot the flailing fireball for good measure.
"TAKE THAT! Hashbrown-sucker!"
A bullet kicked sparks near the armored vent on the rear of his chassis- with enough force that Hancock floated forwards a bit. He spiraled around and shot once with his Plasma gun- the Gunner popping out from behind a boulder tossed backwards in the air with a chunk of his temple disintegrating.
"-Nobody shoots me and lives! FUCK YOU!"
CLAK CLK CLK
CLAK
"HA! HA-HA! Take that, scumbag! And this!" CLAK CLK CLK "-Woooo-MOMMA! I could do this shit all day-! HEY, Sweetycakes! There you are!"
-Indeed, there she was, and by all that was unholy she was pissed.
The Assaultron was sprinting down from where she had been atop the aluminum building- having observed her commanding officer's death, and the deaths of all her squadmates- she raised her weapon-packed arms, and unleashed everything she had on Hancock.
Hancock fluttered back with sparks and impacts lighting up all kinds of new dents and scrapes on his chassis- a machinegun attachment he hadn't noticed before- opening from a chest-based mounting in the Assaultron's torso.
Her arms erupted in crimson- and laser beams scythed past him as he flew to the side in dashing dodges- as, Hancock had flown through sustained fire before- no normal human could keep up as fast as she did.
Some of the lances still brushed his armor- and one planted smack-dab center beneath his central ocu-lense arm with a burst of sparks and red embers.
"-AGH! Damn it, woman!" He cursed. "I haven't even asked you to cook for me yet!"
"Time to be scrap, freak!" She announced- the center unit of her head, now glowing crimson.
She stopped a foot away from him- and Hancock had just started to readjust his aim when she fired.
VVMMM
-The beam of red shot out in a blinding display of aforementioned hue and light- it didn't directly impact Hancock's chassis- but the beam glanced by his right lower flank- a hairslength from critically damaging his central thruster unit.
There was a ripping of metal- sparking of electricity- Hancock was jerked backwards, his entire form spinning in a complete circle- his ocu-lenses bobbed, and his systems were screaming of heavy damage.
"-WOAH-OH-AH!" He shouted maniacally as he steadied his flight. "-God-DAMN it, woman! I think you broke my shit!"
"Just deactivate already!" The Assaultron barked- lasers flaring at the Mr. Gutsy for a second instance- now in close quarters with each other- the robots started dashing left and right, backwards and forwards- in the sick dance they held, they actually averted each other's fire.
Hancock had started to actually shoot back- because, now it was pretty evident that the joke was over- and no matter how much his, in quote- 'Sprocket Pump' -would regret the decision of destroying this robot, later- he'd rather shoot her than be dead himself.
Plasma fire started to burn her armor- because, clearly, even though she was faster and had pretty accurate aim and hitting power- Hancock had all that, AND, he was more experienced than her- and at the end of the day, evened technology between combatants could always been tipped by veterans over rookies
Hancock's thruster ignited- and he catapulted clear over the Assaultron's head right as her center-eye unit shot forth another devastating beam of charged laser energy. The shot hit the ground and clouded dust- her sensors screamed something from above.
Right as she whipped her head up- a comet, or, at least what LOOKED like a comet to her- came throttling down from the heavens, aimed right at her.
A ball of light with a contrail of an arm of gray- in it came, vanished by her cloven feet it did- and by the ruined shack as their witness, the explosion wasn't as big, but certainly was a spectacle.
ffssshh-wmm-BMMMMMMMM
She vanished in a flash of light- ripped soil, blackened debris, broiling flame formed yet another mushroom cloud that consumed the local vicinity of Hancock's target, AND the target herself.
Finishing his graceful, airborne soar above- Hancock's laughter was cut off as he ended his travel in the last place he would've wanted to- and that was into the roof of the aluminum warehouse nearby.
"-CRAP-!" Hancock was cut off- CRK!- the metal buckled like tin foil, and he tore clean through the roof panel he'd hit- leaving a oval-like puncture in the aluminum.
He crashed through a series of shelves and all kinds of garbage that was piled inside the ruined structure- tumbling and smashing through it all- he now saw firsthand why nobody had set up shop in this little establishment.
Seconds later- he bounced off of something particularly curved, rounded, and made of titanium or some other harder metal- he bounced, with an echoing FwwhMMMMM- and crashed through the aluminum wall on the front of the warehouse- just under where his Assaultron friend had been perched earlier.
CRRK--"-WAGGGGHHH!" BMMM
-And to add insult to injury- Hancock ended his careen into the rear of a rusted, smashed truck that was parked on the outskirts of the yard the shack had been obliterated in.
He hit the passenger side door- indenting it into the passenger compartment- before slouching onto the earth below- rattling and tumbling down the side of the truck and to the ground with the sounds of a linen bag filled with cans being opened over a flight of steps.
Laid out down there- stunned, a single ocu-lense risen over all the others- Hancock, the victorious Mr. Gutsy, stayed where he was for a good moment.
"...WELP', there goes the start of my harem..." He sighed. "-Damn it! I meet a girl, and she likes explosions like me- and IRONY, that fat bitch- steps in, and I had to blow her up! FUCK YOU, IRONY!"
Letting the silence of the scene settle in- Hancock was grumbling to himself as his central thruster lit quietly- and he soon was levitating over where he had fallen and hit the truck.
Checking all his weapons- he gave a satisfied grunt when each came back in relatively sound condition- but he grew distressed at seeing the scorched gash that was on the righthand underside of his rounded main chassis.
He flipped through his survey reports, and found nothing major had been damaged- but just a few more inches centered of a direct hit- and his thruster probably would've given out, and if he couldn't move in a firefight, he was dead.
"Huh, Chickles' had some aim, power to her!" Hancock tsked. "Too bad she's burnin' in Satan's pot-HOLYJESUSCHRIST!"
-No, she wasn't exactly... DEAD, per say.
But as Hancock examined the blackened scorch his missile launch had made of where the Assaultron had been standing- he flew over to see, that she was very much still active- and the best part was, she was active, and couldn't get up.
Her legs hadn't been blown off- but they were mangled, blackened and ragged- all the armor had been stripped, and fried circuitry cables had belched out from one of her calve sections- her cloven feet were burnt and had their toes missing.
All in all- and she was scorched beyond all belief.
Struggling to move down there, in a crater at least two feet deep with cinders still crackling away- the Assaultron gave off panicked servo-whines and screeches of grinding parts whenever she moved. Her arms were positioned behind her- trying to lift her up.
The glowing red central unit on her head flickered- like a dying lightbulb- and her head rose to focus on Hancock as he floated up there, looking down to her.
"Hey! Sweetcheeks! You're alive!"
"..."
"See that? I'm the crowned- 'Badass of the Wastes' -, baby! I kicked your fine ass!"
"..."
"Don't tell me shrapnel got in your amplifier system! I've dealt with FAR worse than that!"
"..."
"...Oh, so, you try to kill me, and Clarice has her way with you, and you give me the silent treatment? You're COLD, honey!"
VMMMMMM
-"SHE'S GONE BERSERK!"
Hancock ducked down beneath the rim of the crater when her central unit erupted in a star's worth of red light- and that all-too-familiar crimson beam shot right over his chassis.
"-Y-You think j-just b-because my legs are broken- t-that I can't defEEENNND- myself?!"
"I said nothing of the sort! Lies!" He rose his buzzsaw in protest.
VVMMMM
-And he was forced to snap it back down when another high-powered laser shot flew through its vacated space.
"-I-I'll kIIIIIILLLLLVVVVVV -YOU!"
"Well, perhaps if you stop trying to shoot at me, tootse- I'll bring ya' to the best mechanic in the wastes! He'll fix ya'! He's my commanding officer!"
"...NEVER..!"
"-'Never, Hancock! You're just too Bot-ly' for me, Hancock! But I secretly love you, Hancock!'-" He mocked, tweaking his vocal amplifier to sound like the same personality base- after all, RobCo and the other manufacturers had a thing for using the same voice data files in all their models.
"SHUT-UP!"
"C'mon, baby! I'll show you the REAL Commonwealth! We'll kill baddies together! We'll fry Molerat steaks together! I'll teach you the secrets of the United States Barbecue cuisine! And THEN, you'll let me scrub the inside of your MG-compartment belt, and then, you'll get all hot and bothered by the awesomeness of HANCOCK!"
"SHUT...UP... SHUT UP!"
"-And then, you'll be unable to resist the drive of opening your coolant cap for me!"
"YOU... FREAK!"
"And then we'll play hide the sprocket pump!"
"DEGENERATE!"
VMMM
VVVMM
VMMMM
VMMMMM
VMMM
-She started peppering the whole side of the crater with more and more shots from her central eye unit- and Hancock just sat there, in cover, considering the possibilities that were never meant to be, with the same robotic devil that was trying to destroy him, on an atom's scale.
-0-0-0-0-0-
The basement was a complete, and utter- WRECK.
It stunk like body-odor, rotten food, tinged with the after scent of spilled Nuka Cola on a wet rug- a pretty awful combination, as the world would have it.
Since Sanford was in the bulky X-01 suit- and he didn't feel comfortable taking it off just yet around these two- he couldn't fit to go inside the cellar, and, neither could the Deathclaw- so, Gerald settled for sitting in the stairs, and explaining his peace.
The Deathclaw had taken to sitting in the grass- arms folded in her lap, head hung in sudden boredom- while Sanford stayed upright, standing at the mouth of the cellar door.
Gerald went on for a bit- taking inconsistent swigs of a grimy bottle of, none other than- NukaCola Soda, holding it just below the nozzle and rolling the liquid inside whenever he talked about something in need of greater word count.
"-Me and Fredrick were born here, we're two oldies', you know- other Ghouls called us that- 'Oldies'- apparently it's a big thing if you're pre-War."
"You're pre-War?" Sanford asked, intrigued.
"Oh yeah," Gerald nodded. "Going on two-hundred and ten years now, more or less... Place looked a hell of a lot different than this."
"Remember that hollow roar the jets would make when they'd take off from Boston Airport? It's funny- I was just having this discussion."
"...How do you know what a plane sounds like, man?"
"I'm pre-War too."
"...You a Ghoul under all that?"
"What-? OH, no-no," Sanford reached up, the helm pulled away with a hissing decoupling- he smiled at Gerald, and kept talking, holding the headgear by his hip one-handed. "I was in a Vault when the bombs dropped- they put us in cryo pods- I woke up maybe a decade ago."
"...And... How old were you when you went into that pod?"
"Oh geez'... Uhmmm... I dunno', fourteen? Fifteen? Sixteen? I basically finished growing up in this dump."
"...That's unbelievable."
"I know- she told me the same thing," He jabbed a thumb back at the Deathclaw, who looked up and snorted. "Vault 111 was the one- we didn't have admission, I snuck me and my parents into there."
"How'd you manage that?"
"Bomb fell right as we were entering the area- the soldiers didn't even think of stopping us after that."
"...Lemme' ask you, Vault-man,"
"Yep?"
"I've been hearing stories about some, whack-job guy, and his even whackier robot- shooting up this Raider group out north of here- a few years ago, saved a bunch of people... You know anything about that?"
"...Ahm, I, suppose...?"
"We trade with those people- you believe that? They haven't shunned us because of the skin," Gerald ran his fingers down his cheek with a toothy, yellow smile. "They told us they couldn't, because they were saved by someone who they thought was trouble."
Sanford smiled back at him.
He remembered what the Ghoul was talking about- and, it just proved a further point about how big the world was, yet how small at the same time. THAT, this scene that Gerald was talking about- was one of Sanford's and Hancock's capers- and years later apparently, it was still on someone's mind.
"...Yeah, I think that was me. There was an old guy with a gimpy' leg?"
"Yes! Doctor Higgins! Guy's a riot!"
"Did he tell you a joke about a Radstag pooping in a stump?"
"YES! HA-HA!"
The Deathclaw watched Sanford practically hit it off with this Ghoul with a look of apprehension on the grass behind him.
"Monsieur'," She interjected a bit loudly- making Gerald jump. "Not to be... RUDE... but do we have time for this?"
"-Oh, I mean... Yeah, you know what Gerald, me solving this issue you're having- it's actually tied in with my own problem- I need guns, I have to find a friend of mine, and it's actually my robot."
"Well, what happened to him, man-?"
BMM-CHASHSHS- "-GERALD! Where the hell is my Distilled Psycho?!"
"-...In the pantry, you junkie." Gerald lightly responded with a sneer when Fredrick screamed up the stairs at him- and then tore off back down into the cellar. Something glass shattered.
"-Uhm," Sanford cleared his throat. "We got captured by Super Mutants south of here- we got away, but, me and Hancock got separated."
"Hancock's that contraption's name?"
"Yeah, why? Those settlers mention him?"
"The kids there think he's their- 'Army General' -,cute stuff."
"Wow."
"-So, Mr. Sanford?"
"Sanford's good."
"Alright- Sanford, our problem is not a small thing- but if you help us out, I'll give you every single gun in our possession," Gerald stood up.
"I just need a few- what kind of hardware are we talking about?"
"Rapid fire- light stuff, me and Fred got our hands on some pre-War pit-patters'- I think you'll like 'em."
"Alright, I'm game- and this problem? This has to do with the bugs?"
"See, here's something you need to know- before Fred got addicted to chems, WE, were inventors... Not so much for him anymore."
"Did you guys make a gun? Or something called a- 'Nukalizer' -?"
"Yes! W-Where'd you hear that?"
"I read it," Sanford unflipped the top of his rucksack down from its thigh-mount- and pulled out the tiny black notebook. "I found a notepad of yours."
"...My God," Gerald reached out and lightly took it from Sanford's fingers- holding it, two-handed, under his face. "I haven't seen this book in decades, man. Me and Fred kept it as kids."
"How old is that?"
"This here book? It's, I mean- it's gotta' be around two-hundred years," Gerald laughed. "Amazing- how so much has been destroyed and- and- I... Look at this, this book outlasted my SKIN, unbelievable."
"Was that your home, that we found that book at?" The Deathclaw asked. "It was in the ruins of a smaller structure... A shed? I believe it's called?"
"You found it at Fred's old house. He kept it in there, with spare parts for the Nukalizer- which, yeah, it's a weapon- it's a GOOD weapon." Gerald reassured. "Which brings me to the problem- understand, Sanford, we invented the problem."
"How so?" Sanford raised a brow.
"Me and Fred played around with all kinds of wrongly acquired hardware- stupid shit," Gerald nodded. "We never stole it from the neighborhood, nothing petty like that- but we'd intercept packages in the mail... A federal offense back then, could've been jailed at our ages..."
"What happened?"
"-Well that's how we built the Nukalizer- I haven't seen that thing in years, because we lost it, along with half of our other inventions. Did you see a steeple? Like a church?"
"By the plaza, yeah."
"That's what the roaches are attracted to- and that's where we had our old workshop before we had to abandon it. Place used to be a museum and memorial for the Civil War, old colonial crap, back with muskets and swords- warfare we ain't ever experienced."
"I read about the Revolutionary War," The Deathclaw said. "I know it tied in with the Civil War, in the same era."
"...This, uhm- YOU," Gerald almost referred to her as Sanford's, TO Sanford- but reaffirmed addressing her with a nervous smile. "-Astonish me, and I don't do astonished."
With some small pride, she nodded with a tiny semblance of a grin- tail twitching on the grass.
"Not to stray- but, WHAT are the roaches attracted to?" Sanford queried.
"Right, well- me and Fred were having a shortage of Stims for awhile- which, sucked, because we had to clear this place out a few times when some Molerats took up residence,"
"Okay?"
"So, we tried to concoct a new serum,"
"...Yeaahhh?"
"And, well, the serum... Attracted Radroaches- we don't know why, we never knew why,"
"So, then what?"
"Well a roach broke into the lab while we were out, and, uhm..."
"...Yes?"
"-Ate all of it."
"...Huh."
"-And when we came back, there was, a... uhm... Godzilla-roach the size of a car smashing the place to hell, and, we ran, and... The roaches chased us, and... Here we are!" Gerald grinned cheaply- and that faded to a frown when Sanford, and the Deathclaw too- just looked at him.
"...You made a giant fucking cockroach? And now you want us to kill it?"
"Well, I know how to shoot, we'll help-"
BMMVM-chshsh-NK
"-OH-HOHOHO-YEAH! Aw-aw cccrrrRAP! Gerald?! Gerald, Gerald help me! The Jet thingie- the, what's it called- the exhaler' thingie' is stuck in my nose!"
"...Look, I'LL help you."
"Just tell me, why are the roaches still showing up if the big mother ate all this serum you made?"
"...The roach is releasing a pheromone, or something," Gerald sighed. "Yellow smog, can't see it during the day- it attracts thousands of them from the countryside- I ain't ever seen so many Radroaches in one place, man."
"That means we should burn the body too... You up for that?" Sanford asked the Deathclaw.
"If it means you're properly armed, and, I suppose if it means killing another monstrosity in the wastes, then fine, monsieur', I'll do it."
"-Say, what's with the French accent?" Gerald asked, noticing for the first time. "I'm just picking up on that."
"She doesn't wanna' talk about it, bad past." Sanford held a hand up for him.
The Deathclaw's tail swept through the grass, and she blinked at him happily. Gerald intentionally looked back into the cellar when she smiled at Sanford- the look on such a creature rattling him to the bone.
In the cellar, he ducked back inside- a few words of loud exchange were made between him and his drugged friend. Then, the stairs echoed, and right as Sanford unpinned the safety on his pistol- Gerald came out with two weapons in his clasp- he underhand tossed one to Sanford.
The gun clattered in his grip- and Sanford held it one-handed up to his helmet. It was a submachine gun, the same kind his personal one was.
"Ammo," Gerald stepped over, looking up with a grin to his helmet, and handed him a wad of clips. "It's the only guns we got- we have lots of it sitting around down there."
"I appreciate it."
"No-no, you deserve it, man- you're saving our keesters', and I think the behinds of other people, considering that roach might move somewhere else and take its hoard with it."
"You said that the thing is releasing pheromones?"
"Yeah, cloudy stuff."
"Is it toxic?"
"...Uhm... We never got close enough to tell."
"...I wouldn't take chances," He looked at the Deathclaw, and then at him. "Here's the deal- you both hang behind me. My suit can filter toxic environments- I'll make sure an area is clear before you both come in."
"...But you can't see it in the light-"
"Well, if that's the case, then we should wait for night."
"WAITING UNTIL NIGHTTIME?! Are you crazy?!" Gerald cried. "All the shit comes out at night!"
"If it gives you a better chance at survival, we should do it. You're certain that this stuff is seeable at night?"
"...Yeah, positive."
"Alright, then roach-hunting we go when the sun drops," Sanford looked up, and then at his Deathclaw companion. "What do you think?"
"I think we'll have a lot of roach meat by the end of this. Bon apetit'." She shrugged, grinning.
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