CHAPTER 22
The Puzzle just smacked together.
Given, she'd read about a good number of things- and this was with the limited resources she had and the limited access to literature on top of that. Books were a rare thing- any kind of books, big fat multi-chapter novels, historical tomes, catalogues, memoirs...
She hadn't read hundreds of books, but for the few she was able to read in full- they had depth, heavy logic and sometimes debate of logic, and they were written by very smart people, enlightened people. She always had a contempt for humans- but oddly, she enjoyed the way they wrote.
As she trekked the wastes in constant travels, some books had fallen into her claws for quick browsing. A long time ago, she had wandered into a library- or, the ash and rubble filled REMAINS of one.
Some of the bookshelves still had tomes in them- and while most of them were destroyed, or burned- she found a copy of some coverless text with missing pages, that detailed the height of the Roman Empire, the fall of said civilization, and the emergence into the Middle Ages.
Two topics had always piqued her interest over others- and those typically revolved around Antiquity, and Medieval- two eras of time that, unspeakably, had seemed darker to her than today, and that was saying something, obviously.
People living short lives that were confined to small communities, their homes- if they had any -filled with squalor and disease, such death and fear rampant, and all of it stemmed on peoples' standing with God and religion- things that were supposed to be good and accepting, drove people to become judging and to promote evil things.
Through her interest in Medieval times- the terrible things that were happening reminded her of what was being dealt to her in current days- as she read about the hardships of the average man or woman, she felt like she was reading about, maybe, 'People'- like herself.
People that had had a hard life, people that were afraid, people that were strong and were pushing through the muck to some end they didn't even know was good or bad. She wasn't human, but she was a sentient being- and, seeing these stories gave her some hope.
The age of chivalry was claimed to be dead, according to a lot of those books- LONG after the Middle Ages had come to a close. But... After she had read so much on it... Was it really?
There was no global law that could be thoroughly maintained in Medieval Europe, and people relied on trust and honor of their neighbors, and people had to learn how to defend themselves- there were knights both good and bad, and armies mixed with just and unjust soldiers.
Today, there certainly was no law in the Wasteland, and people did rely on each other in the most substantial trust and honor-bound ways since the age of swords and bows, people had to defend themselves and their friends and family- there were armies of good and evil that covered the swathes of America.
All the world had done was revert back to the Middle Ages- the only difference was, people's thinking was different, there weren't as many people, and instead of sharpened steel being used to kill others, people shot each other.
Medieval Europe and post-apocalyptic United States really, bare bones- were not so different.
-Thus, Greek Mythology, the tome she read, was a fresh breath for her creative side, her thinking side.
Her attention was drawn specifically to many of the deities in the Greek pantheon- Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Ares, Athena- brilliantly thought out Gods and Goddesses, that, even though at the end of the day didn't exist- were so powerful and elaborate in their depth, that people were inspired by them thousands of years later.
She spent a long time reading about the three big players- Zeus, Hades and Poseidon- she spent less time on Hades, as, the description of the Underworld and River Styx started to make her feel rather grim- and that wasn't why she had started reading, to feel grim.
She brushed past the subject of a Goddess- or, maybe a lesser known Goddess- named Nyx- and for the lack of material covering her traits, she was described as powerful, and apparently had alternating origins and mothered deities depending on which philosophers recorded it all.
Nyx, overall- was the Goddess of night, and she was powerful enough that Zeus had a better inkling to not anger her wrongly.
The more and more the Deathclaw read of this- 'Nyx' -the more and more she became fascinated by it.
"Page." She muttered to Sanford when she finished reading a paragraph depicting Nyx's history, during the process of the creation of the world and universe, under Hesiod's Theogony.
When nothing happened- she grunted and looked up in annoyance at the standing hulk of armor beside her- and squinted when she heard a faint, long, hissing breath inside. Sanford had his arms draped, helmet slumped- he was snoring, lightly.
Growing annoyed- she felt like cuffing him in the head for napping when she needed help- but, that felt rather... Stupid, to do.
She was grown up- she could figure shit out on her own.
Grinding her fangs- she looked down at the accursed book that she had nearly finished- and reached up with her other claw- raising three of her fingers up, and making a pinching motion with her pointy and thumb.
She spent a meticulous moment jamming the tip of her thumb nail into the division of page on the book's side- then, she tried pressing her pointy's nail as flat as possible on the paper above where her thumb was.
It was like a giant trying to read a toy book meant for a stuffed animal- pretty comedic- she was all hunched over, tongue flicking out from her chops at the side as she slowly moved her claw.
chth
-And her nails tore a tiny chunk out of the page when she finally flipped it over.
"Vas te' faire' encule'!" She snapped. "Damn it."
With an exasperated sigh- she finished overturning the page- eyes locked angrily to the ragged tear she made on the side of the paper.
Sanford made a snorting sound, and a few- 'Wha-wha...?'s- and -'Who-what-where...?'s. Then, he was back into dreamland with a shuffle of metallic plates and the ruckus of his padded combat armor shifting around inside the exoskeleton.
Huffing at him- the Deathclaw raised her claw and brought the book closer to her snout, squinting her yellow eyes.
She'd already torn the stupid thing- her page turner was out, and she was only halfway through the book- that was just a calamity. Though the resentment for her clumsiness was numbed by the fact, that at least she was able to read a book today- she didn't get to do that a lot, as per mentioned.
So putting aside her huffing and puffing- she kept reading about this Greek Goddess- this 'Nyx' character. It was interesting, because, for all the power that this Goddess held, over dark and nighttime and fear- she was relatively untapped with the well of knowledge revolving around Zeus, or Poseidon.
A powerful, somewhat forgotten deity. That was what she was thinking.
Of course, she did not know how other pieces of literature or article portrayed Nyx, or how many others actually portrayed her at all. But as she eyed an oil painting print that took up the entire other page from where she read the last paragraph of the bio- she traced the cherub-like appearance of the Goddess' face, the rounded, chubby contour of how the artist represented curvature in her body.
In this picture, where Nyx was shown with a robe of shadow, looking over hills in the natural world of Greece below at her feet- she was... Beautiful, and so had every other representation of her been beautiful as well.
It kind of put her off, and the Deathclaw made a brief bad habit of running her top fangs over her bottom chop- before she flexed her thumb and shut the heavy book with a dusty -PMK.
"-WOAH-! H-hey... Oh hell, I dozed, I'm-I'm sorry..." Sanford mumbled in a quick recovery- yawning through his speech. "-Sorry, I bailed on ya'. Need the page turned?"
He looked down at her with a stretching convulse inside the armor- noted how she extended her claw towards him with the book shut, and blinked in surprise.
"Damn, you're a fast reader." He stated, lightly taking it from her palm- she noted how he did his best not to brush her hide until he retracted with the text and shoved it back in the rucksack over his suit's thigh.
She still had another quarter of pages to go- but, she felt a little emotionally tired, and didn't have the energy to say much of it.
"Yeah." Was all she muttered.
"Was it alright? Or was it boring?"
"Interesting, monsieur'."
"Ah, that's good."
"Mm."
"I wonder where Gerald went..." Sanford gazed around them at the street and houses- he looked up, and saw that the sky was becoming a little darker, like a damp cyan. "It's getting late. If this monster has poisonous chemicals, we sure as hell should be able to see them."
"Do you trust Gerald?"
"No. But he gave us a gun," Sanford admitted. "Even the crazies don't give their intended victims guns."
"Did you make sure it worked before assuming that, monsieur'?"
"I can tell- see the bolt isn't tampered with," He raised the SMG from where it had been laid on the ground nearby- and pointed at the bolt function drawing down the gun's side. "And then here, the safety pin hasn't been tampered with, and I can tell because it still has the factory-finish sealant in... this... area... here..."
He blinked as she just looked at him rather blankly, eyes narrowed.
Swallowing, he backed off with the gun, and coughed inside his helmet.
"Uhm... You have no idea what I'm talking about, right?"
"Nan'." She said simply.
"I guess I really have become too fixated on the guns- just, look," Sanford aimed the SMG ahead, lining up the iron-sight peg on a lightpost across the street. He compressed the trigger briefly.
CLK
-A single round flew out, ricocheted off the metal of the pole with a quick spark, and clattered off the street in a few pocked of dust.
"-It works, tootse', don't you fret."
"Stop calling me that." She grinned.
"Or else what?" He asked with a hint of competitiveness.
"I'll MAKE you stop calling me that."
"Ooooo... I'm shaking in my pre-War manufactured boots!" Sanford exclaimed with a chuckle. "Don't hurt me!"
"You're asking for it, Sanford."
"I've been asking for it for half my life- and I'm still kickin'."
"Abruti'." She sniggered- leaning over, and giving off a metallic cuff as she butted him lightly with one of her horns on the waist of his suit.
Sanford felt himself grow a bit uncertain, awkward, when she did that- but he did his best to keep it concealed in his behavior- he laughed at her, and asked her what 'Abruti'- translated to.
"Jerk." She clarified.
"Oh, that's lovely."
"Mmhmm."
"Maybe I should give you a French name to call you by," Sanford suggested as he pushed the safety back down on his gun, and stowed it by his side. "I haven't read much French. Hold on, I'll think of a word..."
"Oh this should be perfect," She grinned, leaning her chin in palm towards him. "Impress us all, go on."
"How about- ...I think I heard it as- PESCE'! Yeah! What about Pesce'?"
"...That's Italian, you verrue'."
"Oops."
"And that means -'Fish'- so you're a double verrue'."
"Sorry. I heard some old guy call another old guy that one time in Diamond. How do you say fish in French?"
"Possion'."
"And how do you know Italian too?"
"I'm not fluent," She shrugged. "I know a bit of Italian, Greek and German."
"Haven't heard you say any of those."
"...I suppose, they just don't... Resonate with me, as much as francais'." She said longingly. "...It really doesn't matter, I just..."
"I hate that I keep bringing up the subject of your past all the time, and I keep doing it unintentionally," Sanford stated after a pause. "-You know, I'm sorry. I keep asking questions that aren't my business, and it obviously- whatever happened -bothers you."
"...It's not your fault, I just..."
"Well it kind of is. It IS. And I'm doing it without meaning to, because you're the first person I've talked with, and traveled with, in years besides Hancock. And Hancock's my best friend, but, the opportunity, the excitement of a new set of ears... It's made me overeager."
"...Sanford," She sighed. "We're both... At least, I believe- suffering from some of the same things in different ways. Neither of us have others of blood relation, you have one friend and I had none-"
"-HAD, none, huh?"
"...Uhm- W-Well, I just-"
"-I'm sorry, I interrupted, ignore me, keep going."
"-Right, monsieur'-uh -S-Sanford. We're both very solitary, and... Bad things have happened to us both, and we've clawed our way through them..." When he was still listening intently, she reached up and wrung her wrist in opposite fingers lightly. "My point, LE' point- I cannot hold that against you. I get it."
"...Hm."
"So... You don't, have to apologize for it."
"...I... Alright," Sanford nodded. "Okay."
"I think you've been a good ally over the last few days. I think I see a very good thing for both of us if I stay."
"...This is... Perhaps, the most honest you've talked to me."
"...Don't get used to it, you chimp." She rolled her eyes.
"Noted. And yep, I'll keep it all in mind, I believe you."
"...Mm." She shrugged again, now musing. "Never thought I'd be -'Buddies'- with one of you."
"I never thought if me and Han' got a new party member, it'd be a Deathclaw. A FRENCH, Deathclaw- ha! This Wasteland is fucking insane. I like it."
"Admirable."
"...Say,"
"Mm?"
"What does 'Verrue'- mean?"
"...Wart."
"Wart?!"
"A wart. I called you a wart, monsieur'."
"I'm not a frikkin' wart!" He laughed.
"Mm." She chuckled.
-0-0-0-0-0-
In the daytime, the building had seemed quite forlorn, a little hexed even- the place radiated a dark atmosphere during the times of the high sun- and now, that it was getting more and more dusk out, the steeple in the center of town looked hellish.
The building was made of old paneled wood- chipped, matted with burns, moisture damage, cracked with actual lacerations in the material, and some dead brown vines that snaked out from some of the rusted gutters.
A rectangular center with a pyramid-like indent of a paneled roof made the center of the structure- a longer rectangle section branched out with three stained glass windows on one side, and a plain wall on the other side, also paneled in roofing.
Small slot windows dotted the walls of the center building- and behind that, the towering steeple head with a belfry top jutted up into the air, its paneled roof cap cracked, and long having fallen off in chunks- if there had ever been a large bell up there, it wasn't there anymore.
Sanford stood across the street from the front stone steps of the building's front face- there was a rusted wrought iron fence that surrounded the small plat of grass immediately at the building's stone base chin.
Sections of the little fence had been ripped away over the years- and what tallgrass had started to eat up the property was now dead, brown, and drooping in masses. By one side of the stone stoop and steps leading to a big, red wooden door- the skeletal protrusion of a fern existed, blasted, lifeless.
Sanford held onto his submachine gun two-handed- he had it over his armor's breastplate, and he sighed with a shifting of steel as ambience from the exoskeleton suit.
There lie another challenge, another peril, another horror to stand before him in the wastes- and, where most people would avoid it outright, there he was running in the wrong direction, TOWARDS the danger.
Where had all that trepidation he had felt upon leaving the Vault gone? It must have taken a hike over the last few years.
Hancock was always preaching about- that he was too hard on himself, that he was- of all things -a HERO. And... Sanford just... He just didn't see it in himself.
He didn't see a hero standing where he was- he saw himself. He saw a boy who had been tossed out into the jaws of death, and had clung to one of the fangs to avoid falling into the maw for years. Sanford shot more people than he saved- he destroyed so much, he saved so little, and he created even less.
He couldn't see what Hancock saw- and he certainly couldn't see what some other people saw. People hailed him, people cheered him- people had broke down, cried, and hugged him when they had never even offered loved ones in their lives that modesty.
Sanford felt so awkward whenever that happened- he didn't think he was a hero.
-Though maybe, it was just that he didn't WANT to be a hero.
...Was there really a difference? How would one deny being a hero? You just didn't look at yourself in that kind of light, a simple idea, a solution that couldn't backfire unless you let it... Right?
He wasn't a hero.
Never had been, even standing before another impossible feat- he was not a hero.
...Right?
"This place gives me the creeps, man." Gerald muttered from beside him. "But I'll brave it if we can kill this thing."
"...Uhm... Y-Yeah, yeah... We'll do it." Sanford sighed- cutting off his thoughts. He turned to look down the slightly shorter Ghoul by his right. "This a good hour to see this thing's farts?"
"Ha," Gerald chuckled. "Yep. Should be. Listen, I dunno' if it's toxic anymore than you, but... It was worth noting."
"I understand." Sanford gazed over his left pauldron as the Deathclaw's thudding footsteps came to light behind him, and then next to him. "What do you think?"
"Ready as I'll be." She sighed. "Pour' le guerre'."
"You said that you had a lab in there, Gerald?" Sanford asked the Ghoul.
"Yeah. Me and Fred took up shop a few years after all the crap settled from the bombs," Gerald said. "All those years of work, probably completely destroyed by that roach."
"Is it really as big as a car?"
"The size of a fuckin' SUV, you'll see." Gerald warned.
"How does it fit inside the steeple if it's that big?"
"It's underneath, in the basement level- me and Fred cleared out everything except the support beams- took us a year."
"...What else were you making in there?"
"Different ways to defend ourselves. The Nukalizer was just one weapons project."
"You have to show me how that thing works when we're through here- if it's still there."
"I'd, GLADLY, do that, but first- we have a roach problem."
"Noted. Alright, here's what we're doing- I'm in front, Ms. Deathclaw is behind me, and you're behind her- sound good?"
"How come YOU'RE in front?" The Deathclaw almost whined.
"...Because I have the nearly impenetrable, environment sealed suit? C'mon." Sanford patted his breastplate with a few rattles.
"What about that breach, man?" Gerald pointed at the gashes that had been made in his suit's gut section. "Doesn't that let air in?"
"It's more of a protection problem," Sanford admitted. "The suit has bio-gel that'll keep the user locked in his or her own air bubble. Don't worry."
"Alright, man, just making sure."
"Let's get this over with. Fried roach, coming up." Sanford started to trot across the pavement- the Deathclaw lined up behind him, and Gerald tentatively fell in step.
As if warning the Ghoul to mind his space- she glanced over her shoulder at him, and in the dark her yellow eyes lit up pretty dominantly- she snorted loudly, and it made Gerald jump.
Smiling his horrid teeth at her- she ground her mandible and turned back to Sanford as he stepped on the first step of the stoop.
The stone actually made a crackling noise as the weight of the armor suppressed it's near ancient structure- Sanford waited for a second, shoved against it with his heel a few times, shrugged, and traversed all four steps with one clack after the other.
The big red door stood there in a menacing slight contrast from the dark frame and wood all around it- a slight outcrop from the paneled face of the steeple formed a bit of shade over the door's top, and two wood pillar beams were lined against the wall on either side.
Some bent, protruding nails and a fainted, rectangular shade on the rim above the door symbolized the presence of a now absent sign- Sanford blinked at it, glanced back down, and stared at the door.
He listened for a moment- and zipped his eyes about the internal holographic HUD of his helmet, he blink activated the heat signature scans.
He gasped when the entire building took on the usual greens and blues that most structures did in the exaggerated shading of the heat-sig view- but there were hundreds, no- THOUSANDS, of tiny red splotches that were gathered in hordes throughout the structure.
Sanford saw activity on the ground floor, and a second floor above that- he looked down at his feet, and grunted in annoyance at the heat-sig scanners' inability to see into the basement level through the ground.
This wasn't good- there were a LOT of them.
Sanford turned back to the Deathclaw, who had her one foot half on the first step of the stoop- she blinked at him, and Gerald glanced over her hip to show he was unpinning his SMG's safety.
Sanford turned off the heat-sig scans- checked his own gun, sighed, and reached up to turn the door's handle.
CLK-CLK CCccccccrrreeeeeeeeaaaaaaakkk...
-As the big red door slowly slid aside- a slight blue hue of illumination from the somewhat-present light in the dusk sky contrasted against the pitch black of the steeple's interior.
Sanford leveled his gun with the inside of the archway- he blink activated another sigil in his internal HUD, and a flashlight droned lowly in the air as it activated, and sent a bright cone of white into the steeple's wooden floor.
Like a pillar that swam through the inky dark- Sanford slowly turned his helmet about to scan the inside of a large foyer- a paneled, rotting, section-breached and cracked wood floor expanded out into the depths of the structure.
He looked up- and the beginnings of a railing on a second level, above the large frame of fallen double-doors became highlighted before the thickest dark that he wasn't close enough to start piercing.
Sanford checked the actual air itself- to see if he could make out any hints of a color, or debris floating about- and other than some swirling particles in the cone of his light, there was nothing else he could see.
He took a step into the frame, and his boot made a grumbling scratch on the wooden floor- a panel creaked.
Looking to both sides- he leant forwards and peered inside the structure- where the light met both side walls of the foyer, layered with peeling plaster, empty wooden picture frames. Some end tables and shelves were up against the western left wall, filled with destroyed items, raggedy piles of ruined books.
The right had two big display boxes held on wooden legs and bases- the glass tops were shattered and the side panels spider-cracked- whatever contents existed inside, were no longer there.
Two staircases lead up to the second floor on the left and right- with wood railings that were missing limbs and sections- a human skeleton lay in tatters in a collapsed avalanche of bones on the right stairs. Sanford could also see there used to be a pretty big blue or gray colored rug that centered the paneled floor here.
He took another step inside- and the wood creaked again.
-But... Something wasn't right about that creak.
It sounded like wood, of course- but there was another sound that was mixed in with it- something else playing behind it.
Sanford inclined his helmet down- and listened.
clclklklcklkclkclkclklcklckclklkclckclcklkl...
-It was... Clicking. Like a chittering noise- it sounded duplicated times ten.
Sanford's eyes went wide.
CLK
-And then a cinder-block sized shadow fell from above, and clattered on top of his shoulder pauldron.
"-AGH!-What the-?!"
A Radroach as big as his head made a tiny hissing sound as its tan, slimy coated wings fluttered in the air over its fat, ringed abdomen.
Sanford reached up, gripped its head, and squeezed until its screeches stopped, and it popped like a zit- leaving trails of yellowish/white bile to breach the creases of his gauntlet's fingers.
He shoved the corpse off ahead of himself- flicking his gauntlet to rid it of some of the goop clinging to it.
"Damn..." He growled.
"Are you alright, monsieur'?" Came from behind him.
"Yeah, I'm fine- I just have more bug guts on me. MORE, how many more can we possibly be-" He looked up at the ceiling, and the cone of light from his lantern, obviously, followed. "-... Oh my God."
CLKLCKLCKLCKCLKCLCKCLCKCLCLCKCLKCLCKLCKCLCKL
-There had to be at least six hundred of the little shitters up there.
There were hundreds, upon HUNDREDS of Radroaches that formed a sick, upside-down carpet across the ceiling panels of the foyer's roof- little heads turning about, wings fluttering, antennae touching other antennae and now- all starting to point down as the light focused on a mere group of the greater body.
"...Back away, we'll let them come to us." Sanford muttered over his pauldron. "I said back away. Back away NOW."
"-What do you see?" Gerald asked as the Deathclaw slowly stepped off the stoop- he walked to the side of the stairs and asked again as Sanford started to clear the doorway. "What do you see, man?"
"I said back the fuck up! Come on, we don't-"
CLCKCLKLCKLCKLCKLCLK
-BM
-Sanford wheeled around, and saw a roach that was an exact duplicate of the one he had just killed land on the floor in front of him.
He reared back and planted his boot over it- spattering bile across the wood, and flattening the creature's midsection with a sick crunch.
"Get back! C'mon what the fuck are you both-?!"
BM
BM
-BM-BM
BMBMBMBMBMBMBBMBMBMBM
CLCKCLKCLKCLKCLCLCKLCKLCKCLCKLCK
-Now there were hundreds of roaches falling down from the ceiling- in clumps, in duos and trios- like if someone threw a gigantic truck load of rice-pudding on the roof and watched it drip off, before flowing down in a torrential downpour.
The floor was alive- and the tan, brown, and yellow mass shuffled all on a centering zenith in Sanford's angle, and the doorframe.
And people thought Radroaches were a joke.
What the fuck?
"SHIT! Shit-shit! SHIT!" Sanford drained his SMG's clip in a sweep across the front ranks of the swarm- killing tens of them, only to see the corpses enveloped into the greater tide.
"Why is it always a fucking SWARM?!" Sanford barked, switching clips in seconds- and draining that one too. "Why can't it always just be one or two?!"
"-Sanford! Problem!" The Deathclaw called over to him.
Backing out from the archway a bit more- Sanford drained his third clip into the oncoming- dangerously close- swarm, stepped on a roach that got close enough- and glanced up at the Deathclaw, who was nodding to the building itself.
Sanford followed her stare- and saw a single, slot little window on the right side above the door, close to the shingle roof of the steeple.
Even in the dark- Sanford could see the inside of the window moving- and the glass shattered in a tiny bout of flickering debris into the night.
Like oil leaking from a crack in a tanker truck trailer- a mass of chittering chitin and fleshy, slimy roach hide poured from the little window, and started crawling and falling down the front of the building, into the grass adjacent to the stoop.
Gerald started shooting at the new swarm, and the Deathclaw readied her nails in a swiping noise from her fingers.
CLAK
-Sanford looked at his ankle, and saw a roach clinging to it in a bodily-hug, almost.
He bashed its brains out, bringing his bunched fist down in a spattering crunch, and ping of steel.
Another roach leapt onto his very gun- and Sanford grabbed it by the head, squeezed until it shattered, and threw the little cadaver over his shoulder.
CLAK CLAKCLKCLKCL
CLKCLCKLCLCKLKCLKC
"-AGH! AGH! Fuck! Not good!"
Tens of roaches were now all over Sanford's suit- the very hide of the X-01 looked like it was alive, just as the steeple floor had been.
His SMG was lost somewhere in the swarm- he tore into the insects with his bare gauntlets- ripping them in half, crushing their heads, crushing their abdomens or thoraxes- his arms lumbered, and corpses tossed and threw.
There were just too many of them- and his suit was filtering warning alarms in his hearing from the sheer weight that was being added onto him from the mass of mutated bugs.
"-GAH!-DAMN IT! -G-GERALD?! -D-DEATHCLAW?! GAH! FUCK!"
-Through the chaos, his suit gave off an alarm, and text flittered into his vision, transparent.
***WARNING***
FOREIGN OBJECTS DETECTED IN BODY SLEEVE
***WARNING***
"-O-Oh God-! No-!"
Reaching down on instinct- Sanford found the bulging abdomen of a roach jutting from the very fissure made in his suit by the Deathclaw days ago- the legs were kicking everywhere, and he felt something physically brush by his midsection inside the suit.
Sanford ignored the hundreds of insects all over his armor- he tugged the roach free with a tearing of chitin, grabbed both ragged ends of the insect- even though he could see none of this, as a roach was plastered over his helmet- and tore the beast in two.
"-God DAMN IT!"
"Sanford!" The Deathclaw called over to him- herself using her heels and claws to slash tens of the roaches that were trying to gather in front of her. "Sanford back up to us!"
"-WHA-AH-OHHH!-SHIT-! I CAN'T- I CAN'T SEE-!"
Some of the roaches were dying because they were biting at his gauntlets- and the Tesla breakers in his knuckles were shocking them to death.
Every time he stepped or moved a boot, he killed one or two of them- and with each arm swing he sent pairs of them flying into the stoop or ground.
Sanford couldn't take this much longer. They were going to get inside the suit.
For the first time in years- Sanford panicked.
"-RRRAAAGGGHHH!" He stormed forwards, trampling tens of the insects and throwing several off of himself- and right as the roach over his helmet was gripped and crushed in his gauntlet's grip, he saw the stoop, and tripped on the first step.
BRRCK
-Then he fell forwards, and he tumbled UP the steps, and into the doorframe of the steeple.
CCLKCRASH
-And it broke at the rims from his flailing arms and legs in two clouds of dust.
Sanford kept up a tornado as he piled through the swarm inside the steeple- he tripped again in the confusion, and the very floor gave way when the suit face-planted into it.
BBMMMMCRASKK
-Dust and chips of lumber flew everywhere- Sanford felt the sensation of weightlessness- all the roaches on him had been torn off, or had fallen off- now he fell, ironically, THROUGH the floor again.
The air time was brief, and even though the chittering of the roaches had stopped- the blaring crack of concrete now rung thick in his ears.
He hit the bottom.
-0-0-0-0-0-