CHAPTER 33
Depths of the Mind.
Laslar had been hurt a number of times- more times than he could really count- and all of them had been extraordinary examples of absolutely insanely caused and resulting events.
Laslar had gotten the worst of his injuries, ironically- while he had been active for the Enclave in his Power Armor suit. The exo' made him more daring, more willing to run out into danger or face things head on- whereas before, in the west, he used a lot of stealth before claiming the kill.
Laslar looked at it as all the years of pent up rage still excercising themselves all this time later- now that he had an ablity to deal such destruction he used it at will.
He had been grazed by bullets, burned by laser fire, glanced with shrapnel, and he'd broken a few bones over his career in the Enclave- whereas in Texas, he really didn't suffer that many grievous injuries that a stim or two didn't fix.
With the greater power and the greater abilities, he supposed greater danger was always present, thus, greater risk.
So as he climbed out of the burning wreckage of the forklift buggy- steel screaming as his gauntlets shoved at the ragged metal beneath him, and the armor ploughed right through it- he was reminded briefly to Texas, the time before the modern him.
Because the hit and fall hadn't even scratched him.
Having relieved himself of the precarious tumble- the flames didn't extend to his suit outside a few scorched dulls to the already dark plating- and no other damage was present visibly on the exterior or even interior.
A few systems got rattled, but those would just reorient on their own. Though Laslar had to admit, his former genetic experiment certainly packed a punch.
He hadn't seen the creature in around a decade- and now that it was fully grown, he had to say he was impressed with his own work alongside those morality-tied scientists rounded up from the NCR, even if he had executed all of them.
The Deathclaw was a prime specimen- and she was strong too, sent him flying even in his suit.
Taking headcount, Laslar was angered greatly at the beast's escape- he was baffled to how it had even happened.
"Air support, heavy weapons, numerical superiority, and we couldn't pin them!" Laslar ranted to Luft when he finally reached the ground level of the quarry after ten minutes of climbing down. "Two men dead."
"Saw the sig's go dark." Luft grumbled. "Your boy's a pretty good marksman."
"...Ugh..." Laslar didn't hear him at first- he turned and gave orders through the communication link. "Someone pull up the fucking schematics of this dump. One Vertibird at each tunnel entrance and exit- if there's more openings than 'birds, message HQ for the rest of the fleet."
"Sir?"
"What?!" Laslar barked when Luft persisted.
"I said that this man we're after is damned good," Luft snapped. "He hit me right in the head with a projectile rifle. I don't think it had a scope."
"...He killed our two losses in close combat, too."
"Laslar, ever think it might be possible that we've come across a good soldier outside the Brotherhood or California?"
"...If he's professional, we just need to cut him off from the 'Claw. The subject attacked me, when I attacked the exo' guy." Laslar sighed. "I think Hector was right- the Deathclaw and this man are allies."
"Well how do we flush them out of the tunnels? I doubt it would be feasible to try and starve them out," Luft reasoned. "We don't have the time or the power to let an entire quarter of a division besiege some old quarry."
"No... But,"
"But?"
"I'm gonna' call HQ, have them send over that VB-130 we saw on the roof."
"What is that going to do for us? They're underground, Las'."
Overhead, one of the Vertibirds screamed right past the quarry dig's mouth above- the craft was moving for one of the other exit tunnels that the schematics shown, and Laslar was at least pleased to see the pilots could handle a simple relocation mission.
"Upload the schematics to my HUD, over?" "Affirmative." "-And Luft, yes it WILL help us. I'm gonna' blow this door open, and then I'm gonna' have that gunship fire a napalm shell right through the arch."
Laslar lined up his fingers and pointed them straight down the center indication of the great metal door, now pock-marked with holes from the autocannons chewing it up.
"...What if they're already deeper inside?"
"Then that'll trap them. I'll burn out the entire quarry if I have to."
"And if you kill the 'Claw? Eden's not going to offer you solace."
"...And he isn't offering anything even if I bring the 'Claw back in one piece," Laslar reminded. "This is just a diversion, Sergeant. It gives me time."
"For what precisely?"
"Revolution, my friend."
"...I don't know whether to be afraid or hopeful."
"Both."
-0-0-0-0-0-
Sanford was examining Hancock a bit more now that they were relatively sealed away from the Enclave- he looked about his chassis and found the gash that had been made from the 20' millimeter, and he also found another gash that had been made by laser fire.
Sanford made the mistake of not asking specifics about that particular damage- because, falsely assuming it was from a few minutes ago in that firefight- Hancock was the only one who knew it had come from the Assaultron he had left out in the hills earlier yesterday.
Reminding himself of that- he watched idly as Sanford rummaged around in one of the gashes, and sprayed sealent foam he took out from his rucksack's front pouch. Hancock had all three ocu-lenses bowed to judge the makeshift repair job with a flurry of commentary.
"You missed a spot, naive'!"
"I can't spray into that, that's one of the coolent lines- which, I'm amazed wasn't severed."
"I'm the HAN'! Can't take me out with some pussy-ass twenty'!"
"Uh-huh. I have some serious work to do when we get home... I gotta' fix you, I gotta' fix this stupid suit... Oh, lord."
"You'll do it, sir! You always do it!"
"If you say so, man."
Sanford sat back on the concrete and put the spray bottle he had been using away- sighing at Hancock's rattled hide.
The robot slowly lifted from the ground where he had been put down after Sanford was done- he patted around his damaged areas with his claw, and made an appreciative grunt.
"Thanks again, my mechanic slave!"
"Yep. Run along now."
"I'm off to play on the swingset!"
"We don't have one of those, Han'."
"Imagination, sir!"
"Mental incapicitation, Hancock."
"Shut your flappin' lips!"
"Mmhmm."
Sanford slipped the rucksack shut and placed it on the ground behind him- leaning the back against the still-standing, opened suit of Power Armor that stood behind him.
It was interesting, the suit had literally saved his life several times over the last few days- and here it was standing over him, the helmet angled down to dote on his cranium- like a guardian angel, Sanford hadn't even realized until now.
He peered upwards at the bug-like appearance of the X-01's helmet- blackened from heat, still wavered with some roach gunk- Sanford minded that last note, squinted, and raised his arm over his head before giving his pit a brief whiff.
"-Ack! Oh, CHRIST." He put his arm down and shut his eyes. "Hey, Han'?"
"Sir?" The robot was hanging out by the still lift that had risen for them earlier again- he turned a single ocu-lense to face behind himself.
"You think we have enough water for me to take a damned bath at home?"
"Well, seeing as you reek like death's used gym sock, I'd say we can MAKE it enough."
"Thanks, a whole bunch, yep."
"Don't thank me, Sir-Stench, thank mother nature!"
Sanford stood up, and he felt about his chest with a few pats against his bare skin- the torn fringes of his shirt's hide.
The burn was starting to go away, and the blisters were repugnantly trailing themselves empty in glistening slicks down his chest to his belly- he grimaced and further got that feeling that over the last few days he had been absolutely filthified.
He saw the Deathclaw leaning against the concrete wall of the chamber towards his rear- she was dragging her nails between two others on the opposite claw, one at a time- scraping all the scabbed mess she had acquired on them over the past day and half.
Sanford stretched his legs until he heard a joint crack- and rolled both arms at the shoulder individually.
He was thankful he had been able to sleep last night- the rest was absolutley essential- he had been hurt, but now that the stimulation injections were helping him, he felt ready to go again- if not a little thirsty.
"Hey," He nodded at her and stepped past the inactive suit of armor. "What are you doing?"
"Filing, monsieur'." She blinked at him, and resumed her activity- drawing the black girth of her right center finger's nail between two pinched claws from the left hand.
ssssSSH-SK!
-Then she brought it up, turned her hand about, and brought the same finger to continue filing from other angles.
"Women and their nails," Sanford chuckled. "It's amazing. It even transcends species."
"That's because females are smarter than you apish hommes'," She smiled at him. "We know to look nice all the time, monsieur'."
"Wow."
"Mmhm."
"Does that rule apply to Deathclaw- how'd you say it? -'Hommes'-?"
"It indeed does."
"They don't keep their claws clean?"
"They use their teeth."
"Ugh! Nasty!"
"See? Men, hmph'."
"It's even more funny hearing it from you."
"Only to humans."
"Only to humans, yes."
"So what's the plan, mon ami'?"
Sanford glanced over his pauldron to Hancock- who was still failing in getting his scans to function properly by the drop's edge back there.
"We need to take the lift."
"Sur'."
"We need to take a chance with whatever, or whoever is down there."
"Mm."
"-I just- for all we know, it could be nothing. There could be a motion sensor that picks up us moving around, or..."
"We'll figure it out, Sanford." She said, unfolding from the wall and stalking past him with a flashed grin. "We gain nothing by standing here."
"She's right, Han', let's go," Sanford called over her to the robot. "I'll suit up."
-0-0-0-0-0-
Laslar narrowed his eyes at the distant little speck that now hovered in place several miles above- so small from the distance, that it looked the size of a pebble.
It was utterly silent- and he waited patiently for the pilot of the VB-130 to lock his aiming reticule on the coordinates given.
"Alright, sir. We have the entry centered."
"Good." Laslar took an instinctive step back, further behind one the shipping containers that he peered around to view the door on the opposite end of the court- six Enclave soldiers, and Sergeant Luft, stood behind him in a gathered group. "Fire at will. AP."
"AP, roger. Firing."
bm
-From so high up, the cracking noise that the Gauss Mortar on the Vertibird's flank made was still audible as a tiny boom.
A second later, the door made a shrieking grind as a flash of brief blue light from the energy-powered shell smacked onto the lower side of the entryway's frame- casting chunks of concrete, dust, and sparks all over the place in a gathering mist.
"Adjust aim by 2, up." Laslar grunted into the communications.
"Adjusted. AP. Firing."
bm
CRRSSKKK!
-The door popped open right down the middle like a split tin-can. Blackened shrapnel tossed about in great heaping chunks, concrete cracked, and dust overtook effective details over the entire arch as it crept from the shell's destructive power.
"Door's down, switch up for N-B' round."
"Affirmative. Napalm incoming."
bm
-0-0-0-0-0-
"Sir, I can't detect a THING down there! It's just whacked!" Hancock said angrily as Sanford stood between the two ajar gates that lead to the lift's beginning chin.
"We'll have to see for ourselves..." He sighed. "Wish me luck."
Hancock levitated by the console they had been playing with earlier- he'd dug through his technical records and had been able to pin a General Atomics console he had interacted with exactly six years ago- seeing as Han' could pull out any physical memory in his dumps and recall it perfectly.
He found the proper circuit connections- and he found the proper lift-control button- it, ironicaly, was a big BLUE button, below the red one that had earned him his systamatic slap from before.
So Hancock kept his claw over it- and he watched carefully as the lift rattled in a hollow bought of clattering steel- and Sanford flinched when he put his right boot onto the platform.
SSHK
SKSK
SK
-The lift plat didn't physically appear to shift around all that much, but the noise made Sanford stop in his tracks, and he gazed through his helmet's lenses at the pylons on either side of him- moving his eyes with his head paralyzed like the rest of his body.
There was a moment of silence, and he huffed, and raised his second boot.
SHHK
-The platform whined a bit.
BM BM
-Two hollow thuds as Sanford's boots stepped twice over the platform's middle section.
The Power Armored man stood in the center of the plat, and he glanced both ways, and then down at his own heels.
He noticed a small panel on the lift's left flank- it was silvery with a red step-button on it- he assumed that was what workers had to press for it to go down without using the console.
He looked up, blinked, and waited.
"...Well, at least it isn't booby trapped."
"Ha! Ha-ha... BOOBIES."
"Grow up, Han'!"
"I'm not sure I understand, monsieur'." The Deathclaw squinted.
"Let's keep it that way," Sanford grunted, motioning for Hancock. "Fly over here, you freak."
"CHARGE!" Hancock flew right over the railing beside the console, and levitated next to Sanford on the lift- his thruster screaming once, and then settling for a continuous flame beneath him. "How are ya', sir?"
"Just dandy."
"Perfect!"
"Alright, Ms. Deathclaw, on we go."
The Deathclaw looked at Sanford, and then down at the lift that she was literally only a step away from being on herself.
All the not-so-right feelings she had gotten from before were coming back, and, against her own judgment- she sighed and raised her one clawed foot- she pressed forwards with the toe, and tapped the metal plat by Sanford's boot.
"Mmmm..." She hummed in annoyance. "I don't like lifts, monsieur'..."
"Would you prefer to jump?" Sanford shrugged. "I suppose that could work too. Hope you don't mind being a splat on the floor, though."
"OOO! Can I throw her, sir?!"
"...Don't speak." Sanford grumbled.
"Unbelievable! I can never have FUN anymore..."
"C'mon, dear, let's get this over with."
The Deathclaw sighed for a millionth time- nodded her head, and found herself swallowing as she stepped one heel onto the lift.
SSHK
-BMMMM!
"-MERDE'!" She yipped- leaping back from the lift- she looked on, horrified, and saw Sanford and Hancock still there with looks of startled confusion about their stances. "M-Monsieur'? What was that?"
"Oh shit." Sanford pointed to behind her.
She spiraled around.
The shriek of steel had come from the door they had shut in the Enclave's face- it looked like a giant had kicked the underside of it- it was dented inwards, and the ground was blackened and cracked just underneath the sliver of light now coming in from outside.
Dust and smoke were everywhere- the door moaned as its moorings started to crack.
"Get on the lift! Hurry!" Sanford barked. "C'mon!"
The Deathclaw cursed again- and both he and Hancock were forced to steady themselves more towards the rear of the lift when she scrambled on in a flurry of scales and her sweeping tail.
"Han'! There's a button!" Sanford pointed to the small panel on the lift's western edge. "Push it!"
"I don't have any legs! HEELLLPP!"
"YOU IDIO- Ugh, GOD, Deathclaw! Help me out here!"
She stepped over past the screaming robot, raised her clawed heel, and brought it down on the button with an echoing thwack against the metal.
CLAK
-WHHMMMM
ckcklcklcklcklcclclkclcklckclkclckclkclckclcklck
-Sanford steadied himself when the elevator bucked, and then, he felt a slight weight pushing into the top of his head. He saw the concrete chin of the platform rising higher and higher- and his view of the door ahead was getting darker and cut off from the rising floor.
The Deathclaw glanced up right when another scream of metal echoed through the chamber-
CCRRSSHHH!
BMM
-Light from outside flooded in a great cone right over their heads as the lift descended into the shadows of the drop they had been fearing entering.
All three heroes had their eyes locked on the illumination that was coarsing in from outside- they expected a row of humanoid shadows to lean over the fall's ledge- and then, maybe a flurry of plasma fire coming down at them.
But whilst the lift clattered and rumbled, and the gears bringing it down the toothed pylons rattled- they saw no one, and they saw no other things that could present the Enclave storming into the chamber above.
The concrete kept passing upwards in front of them, and soon, the light was faintly above.
The Deathclaw was breathing so heavy that Sanford could hear it as a slight whisper over the lift's mechanics- he glanced at her, and then he looked at Han', who was also shockingly quiet- with all three ocu-lenses presented up.
Sanford reaffirmed his gaze to the light- craning his neck inside the helmet- he didn't dare speak, and niether did his friends.
Sanford took a step backwards- quickly glanced down at the blackness behind them to the drop that the lift was lowering them into- he saw through the night vision filters the ground below- a dirt canal, surrounded on both sides by concrete walls and plats.
They were so close to the bottom, it was anguishing.
"Han', your scans working yet?" Sanford whispered.
"Negatory!" The robot hissed- perhaps with too much effort at keeping his voice in a mockery of organic whispering. "They got worse!"
"...Shit."
wwssshhhHHHHHM-
BMMM
-It felt like an earthquake rocked the lift.
They heard a shell soar in, and impact the concrete of the platform above- the cone of light was briefly flickered to darkness, and then, to Sanford's horror- it was reborn, brighter, and tinted AMBER.
"What the hell...?"
...
...fwmmmmmmm-
BBBBBBMMMMMMMMMMM
-A tsunami of broiling black mixed with pulsating magma flooded down towards them like liquid- the wall of flame and soot was so big, that it was nearing the far opposite wall of the huge dome chamber that was behind them on the other side of the pit.
"HHOOOLLLYYYY PYRO-FUCKING-TECHNIIICCCCSSS!" Hancock screamed at the top of his vocal emitters.
"NAPALM!" Sanford cried- he reached over, flung his gauntlets over both of the Deathclaw's shoulders- where she gasped at the sudden contact. "JUMP!"
Sanford hugged her mid-section- shoved her closer to himself, and heaved with a cry of effort as he balanced her pelvis against his hip-section.
Sanford shoved off the lift with all his might- steel creaking, jointing holwing in the suit as he compensated for the Deathclaw's weight.
He heard a whistling outside his helmet- he no longer had a grounding beneath his heels- and that same darned awful sensation of falling, the pit in his stomach, the tightness in his chest- it all came back as he plummeted a full story to the ground below.
BMMMWCHH
-Sanford landed hard.
Dust flew all around him as he pile-drived into the dirt ground at the foor of the chamber- he clambered around painfully inside the suit- whose internal padding and stabilization systems saved him from breaking half the bones in his body.
Seeing stars from the back of his head bouncing inside the helm- he blinked his eyes open slowly, and saw that the Deathclaw was frozen on top of him- arms still extended upwards, eyes wide in shock- she stuttered on something she wanted to say.
Sanford shifted underneath her- and she forgot whatever it was- she slithered off of him in a quick movement- her tailbone hurting her from where Sanford's hips had broken her own results of the impact he suffered.
"Monsieur'! Get up!"
"SIR! WE GOTTA' RUN LIKE THE DEVIL!" Hancock flew right past them- leaving an upkicked path of dust in his wake.
The Deathclaw's jaw dropped at this, and she reached down and clasped both of Sanford's gauntlets- she helped him stand with the suit groaning and creaking.
Right above them, the rolling wave of blackened flame engulfed the lift pylons- and the lift platform itself vanished as it got closer down to them.
"R-RUN! RUN!" Sanford stuttered.
Man and Deathclaw sprinted down the dirt way that had been behind them- arms arcing, legs moving speedily- they passed a dirt-dusted, blackened forklift buggy, and a pile of metal beams that still was hogtied with rope after two-hundred years,
BMMMM-wwHhhhhhhhmm
-The oxygen starved napalm swam over the metal basing of the lift- it washed over the entire end of the tunnel they had fallen into- and as Sanford and the Deathclaw ran for where Hancock had gone to- it continued to bunch after them in roiling motions of blackness and fire.
"ARCHWAY!" Sanford belted. "JUMP IN IT!"
-Straight ahead of them a triangular, blocky concrete arch- a smaller one than the one above, was present, and on the other side of it lay more shadows for them to brave. But better to brave the dark than napalm.
They stomped up a stone ramp that lead up to the arch- which was dug and built straight into a rising vein of pure soil that breached the suddenly ended division of the stone walls on either side of the passage.
Sanford ran through it, and right beside him was his reptilian friend- they both managed three steps into the shadows, before, much to their chagrin- they were falling again.
"-AAAGGGHHH-!" BMM -"-AGH!"
Sanford's scream was cut off in his throat as he rattled against the concrete floor- face down- and lay there in a defeated sprawl of his armored limbs.
He heard the whooshing of flame, cracking stone- and without his actually seeing it- a tentacle of fire belched out once from the archway just above them, and then soot licked out in its stead of finality.
Cinders crackled lightly in the air- and soon, the rushing of fire subsided, the screeching of heated metal ceased, and the flickering of breaking rock halted.
In the darkness of this new chamber- Sanford lay on the floor, breathing tightly- waiting for the discomfort in his aching body to subside. He heard his suit whining a bit as he shifted on the ground- he groaned in pain.
"...Ooooh... Can I, like... Go a single day without falling on my fuckin' face...?"
"OH, so you've arrived!" Sanford raised his helm, and saw Hancock laid out on the concrete just ahead of him- where he too had fallen out of the archway and clambered onto the lower level.
The robot had a single ocu-lense raised over himself, and he waved dumbly with his buzzsaw when Sanford glared.
"...You have a hover-engine... You CAN'T fall, Han'..."
"Aerodynamics are for women!"
"...Jesus... D-Deathclaw? Where are you?"
Sanford rose onto his gauntlets as his palms ground against the concrete- he looked to his left and saw her sitting up on the ground right next to him, shaking her head vigorously.
She mumbled a profane series of curses in French- and she turned around on the floor to face him- her tail swinging slowly in angry flicks behind her legs.
"I'm fine..." She growled, rubbing her chin with a clenching hand. "Are you hurt?"
"Nope. Got shook around, but I'm alright."
"EVEN NAPALM CAN'T KEEP US DOWN! HOLY FUCK-MUFFINS!" Hancock cheered from the ground.
"Ssh!" Sanford snapped- looking upwards and examining around whatever space they had fallen into this time around.
The archway they had tumbled through was a few feet raised from ground level in the concrete wall around it behind them- the sides and roof of a singular passage were on all sides of them- mismatched clutter of rectangular and square cuts of concrete.
The shattered ruins of a metal staircase were rusting in a pile just beneath the chin of the archway- that was why they had fallen, and why the arch was so raised from the concrete floor in this section.
Sanford hummed to it, and turned back to look over where Hancock was just collecting himself off the floor.
The tunnelway extended for a good amount straight ahead- there were tiny wisps of mist that swirled on the concrete flooring all around them and down the tunnel- and it was eerily silent. There were some scratches against the concrete, thuds, and Sanford stood himself up.
"...We're here, I guess..." He mumbled, reaching down, clenching the Deathclaw's fingers and helping her up. "...Han', your scanners working? Mine aren't."
WSHM
-The robot shot back up to his normal levitating status without even a semblance of what had priorly happened- he shook his chassis and dislodged some pebbles from the joints and recesses.
"Nope!" He happily reported. "Blinder than Batman getting flashed by the Joker!"
"...That's really nasty, Han'." Sanford chuckled.
"DISGUSTING!"
"I suppose we have to go forwards," Sanford glanced back at the soot-scorched concrete frame of the archway behind them. "No turning back."
"At least I excel in close-quarters, monsieur'," The Deathclaw flexed her fingers. "Certains' confort' , au moins'."
"I have little to no clue whatever it was that you just said... But we have a date, with ADVENTURE!" Hancock jabbed his Plasma gun towards the dark tunnel ahead. "ONWARDS!"
"Calm your shit, man! Wouldn't it be bad if we ran into a group of people who KNEW we were coming, because you were screaming your bolts off?"
"Not EXACTLY, sir..." Hancock rolled his lenses. "...That would mean we could get into a gigantic, bloody firefight with masses of foolish mortal foes! COVERED IN THE GORE OF OUR ENEMIES! THE BATTERED SURVIVORS WOULD FLEE BEFORE US FOR THEIR WHORE-BAG MOTHERS! AHAHAHAHA!"
"...Are you done?"
"Quite so!"
"Good, let's move."
-0-0-0-0-0-
The tunnel that they followed eventually broke off into two directions of another passage that was physically identical to it- the shadows of the misty way were broken in an illuminated bubble at this intersection- an old work lantern that, oddly, remained lit.
The entire time Sanford, Hancock, and the Deathclaw had been trudging down this darkened way- they hadn't gotten any kind of indication to anything out of the ordinary- for as ordinary as an abandoned quarry tunnel could get.
But when the two of them stepped over a bevel in the concrete, and Hancock levitated next to them- Sanford at least, found his eyes complaining against the sudden bulb of light.
"...Is that a lantern?" He mumbled.
"Looks like it, sir." Hancock's thruster hissed, and he swung past Sanford's flank as he stepped down the raised plat of stone.
"Just be careful, Han', you remember the light fixtures in that RobCo plant?"
"Most creative use of explosives I've ever seen! I admire those chumps... Even if they're all dead!"
"What are you talking about, monsieur'?" The Deathclaw asked when Hancock reached one of the ledges on the blocky concrete wall of the tunnel- zoomed an ocu-lense closer to a little, metal work lantern placed on the stone.
"One time me and Han' found a bounty hunter group that was shooting at us for a good while-"
"-EXACTLY A WEEK! I COUNTED!"
"-Yeah, what he said. We broke into their little hideout, and they hid live grenades in some of the light fixtures- Han' went to turn one on, and a frag' just rolled out."
"I screamed like a school-girl! Ah-ha!"
"That he did."
"Sounds... Entertaining?" The Deathclaw sighed. "What is that light?"
"A lantern I think..." Sanford stepped over and nudged past Hancock- looking at a rounded, tower-tall work lantern that had its handle draped over its flank, and was lit as bright as ever in the dark mists of the tunnel. "...Who the hell is in these tunnels?"
"Could it be more highwaymen, monsieur'?" The Deathclaw tried. "Or maybe just regular humans?"
"Like settlers? Nah, we would've known. Maybe they're just travelers... Or maybe they passed through and aren't here anymore." Sanford cocked his head, and tapped the side of the lantern's middle glass bulb with his finger.
"I'm tellin' ya', sir! This has BOOGEY-MAN, written all over it! All over it I tell you!"
"You really need to stick a plunger in your vocal emitter, okay?"
"Lick engine-coolant!"
"You both are right, though, this is weird. Quarry's been out for two-hundred years, and we find a lit lantern? A still working lift?"
They passed the lantern and kept going into the tunnel.
It was contrastingly silent in comparison to the crazed firefight they had experienced not too long ago- Sanford could still kind of feel the adrenaline draining from his system, like a leaking faucet- even now.
The Enclave were no joke.
Though, as a branching change of subject- Sanford felt more and more... BOTHERED, the longer he stepped through this tunnel.
All he had wanted to do was look around, get a good idea of what this place was all about- and that stemmed from his curiosity to the Haven Corporation overall. But this had turned into something completely different and worse off- technically, they were trapped down here until they found an exit.
But on top of the stress he felt for an escape, and the very real possibility that the Enclave was encircling the quarry and cutting off their ways of exiting...
Something felt...Off.
The place was just weird- it should have, bluntly- been a breeding ground for all kinds of crap. Molerats, giant bugs, Feral Ghouls or even a group of highwaymen... And yet, with all this space and all this vacancy, the Haven digsite remained empty.
It was weird- Sanford didn't know how else to express it- there was something, just, really, OFF, about this place.
Like it was... Something. And it sounded stupid because the only two words he could get in his head to describe it were- 'Something' -and- 'Off'- but that's all he could scrounge up.
The quarry was off- there was something off, he thought it once more.
"Hey, are you getting this eerie feeling too?" Sanford nodded at the Deathclaw as they trotted beside the other down the passage.
"An- 'Eerie' -feeling, monsieur'?" She asked, raising an eye ridge. "...I suppose?"
"Well, be honest, even if it's small and doesn't mean anything to you," He angled his helm about to glance around the hall's flanks. "Are you getting just... A bad vibe?"
"A- 'Vibe'?"
"Like a feeling?"
"I get a bad feeling every time we enter one of these locations," She shrugged. "So no, nothing out of the ordinary here."
"...Alright."
"Why? Are you?"
"I dunno'..." Sanford looked up at her. "This place is too quiet."
"It is unsettling." She admitted. "A long time ago I read about a place in France', in the city of Paris'. They called them the- 'Catacombs' -and they had a haunting reputation with the French people. This place reminds me of it."
"I heard about the Paris Catacombs when I was a kid. It was rumored the European Commonwealth was going to dig them up and turn them into a underground shelter bunker..."
"Destruction of yet more history," She rolled her eyes. "I could see the monkeys doing that."
"What are both of you yappin' about now?!" Hancock butted into the conversation- literally- and Sanford edged back his helmed head when the robot thrust himself from behind, between the two of them.
The Deathclaw looked disgusted.
"The place is haunted." Sanford grunted. "It is, definitely, that's what we're talking about."
"Haunted? BULLSHIT!" Hancock snapped. "This is what you Hippie-Freaks get for suckin' drug cocktails!"
"I've never even touched a container for a narcotic in my life, usiner'." She said.
"Neither have I, and you live with me to know that." Sanford raised a brow.
-They rounded a sharp turn in the passageway- and as they peered past the blocks of concrete making the hall corner- they saw a chamber that extended out a bit more- a square-shaped one, and there were metal pylons that gridded the center in two rows of six.
The floor was dirt again- there were small clustered piles of old pre-War tools and metal containers strewn in the recesses and against the concrete walls of the room- there was another lantern that was lit, on top of an old work table towards the other end of the room.
Sanford stepped in first, placed himself in the center of the chamber, and spun around once to see everything.
"I think it's clear," Sanford waved Han' and the Deathclaw over. "Check this out over here."
There was a doorframe that was carved out of the concrete wall to the left- a metal, gridded frame with an ajar iron bulkhead, that was swung inwards, and had its gray paint illuminated a bright sheen by another lit source of light in the room ahead.
Sanford peered through this new entryway while the Deathclaw kept her eyes on the other end of the pylon-supported main chamber- he stepped inside the small cell.
It was an office- the walls were metal here, painted a dull blue and chipping rust- an aluminum workdesk was set up after a matted, scratched and black swivel chair on four wheels.
There were filing cabinets to the right- a whole row of them- and they were all opened, and their folders and paper-based contents strewn across the floor in flattened heaps. Someone was in a hurry.
"Ransacked files, huh..." Sanford stepped over the crinkling debris- he pushed the swivel chair aside from his path to the desk- hearing the wheels quietly squeak, the back of the leather rear cushion patting against the wall it bucked against when it rolled to a stop. "Hey, Han', look."
Another computer was set up on the desk- its screen dark and dusty.
"Oh goody, sir, ANOTHER broken computer! Amazing! We should start collecting dust bunnies!" Hancock ranted from over his shoulder as Sanford stepped aside, for the robot to join him at the desk.
"Help me boot it up."
"Well what the hell's wrong with it?"
"Hold on," Sanford leaned forwards, and gripped the computer's flanks. CRSH-CM -it made a terrible screech against the metal of the desk when he forced it towards himself a bit. "Lemme' pop the back."
CLN
clclcl
-The square, yellow, back panel flicked off and clattered behind the desk to oblivion- Sanford inched as much as the armor would allow and peered into the back cables of the computer.
"...Uhm... Needs a Type-5 RR.K Sparkplug."
"Type-5 RR.K? Bollacks! I don't got any of those..." Hancock's storage unit flapped open with a charismatic squeak- and the robot fumbled around inside with his craned-over claw. "...Uhm... I got a YY-99 model?"
"Well that's RobCo too, yeah?"
"Yep!"
"Does it have the same female port?"
"That is does!"
"Then it's interchangeable- gimme'."
"Here."
The Deathclaw leaned inside the smaller frame to listen to the two of them and their unchallenged knowledge of electronics that had been gathered over all the years of scavenging- she watched Sanford take a small cylindrical part from Hancock.
The man stuck it somewhere behind the computer in its rear cable units- and the screen made a small buzzing noise as it reactivated, and was born anew.
"Ha-ha! I still got it!"
"Never doubted you, sir!"
"Let's see here..."
Sanford typed on the unfolded keyboard for a few seconds. Some messages flicked about- he grunted, and hit the ENTER key a few times.
"...What's this?" He hit the key again.
BMM
-They all jumped when something metal shifted.
Sanford stood from the monitor and glanced at the Deathclaw- who had turned around and was looking back into the chamber behind her, where she came up with nothing but the lit lantern in the back.
Hancock flew over to the filing cabinets in the little cell he and Sanford were still in- he peered closer to one of the larger cabinet pieces, and pointed at its bottom with his claw.
"Under there, sir."
Sanford wrapped his fingers under the entire aluminum furniture piece- he lifted it clear off the floor, and placed it behind him to peer at whatever had been underneath.
Melded against the concrete flooring- was a square, blackened, metal hatch with a crank wheel on it, and small code-keyboard next to that.
Sanford smiled widely.
It was a safe locker.
Maybe this trip wouldn't be so worthless after all.
He grabbed the wheel, turned it once with a creak, and lifted the hinged cap to the left where it bucked against the wall.
Inside, Sanford saw a small pile of stored food containers. He squinted, and reached in to sift a can of Cram out of the way- and beneath this brief mound of rations, there was a stack of dollar bills- matted, green, and torn pre-War dollar bills.
Someone must have been planning to stay here for a long, LONG, time. Too bad that obviously had amounted to nothing.
"Well, the food's good," Sanford smiled- picking up a container of water- he looked at the Deathclaw. "You thirsty? I sure am."
"Yes, monsieur'... Are those rations?"
"Indeed they are. Two crazed firefights and no lunch break? Pah! Not anymore."
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