CHAPTER 39
It's a Conspiracy I tell you!
From the distance, when you crisscrossed through the urban sprawls that acted as outskirts to the immediate vicinity of Boston city, the closer and closer you got, the more and more you could see the varying skyscrapers starting to rise up in the great blue above.
There were a lot of apartment buildings and commercial offices that had brickwork as their primary external construction- there were other towers with metal, concrete, a mixture of the two- rows of glistening windows pock marked with shattered frames.
Today the city was quiet as Sanford, Hancock and the Deathclaw neared it- it was a haunting stillness that overtook the whole of the area- a once great urban metropolis now reduced to whispering dust devils and forlornly torn open structures.
Stooped houses with chipping paint schemes of blue, white and yellow passed on either side of them- the street wound down ahead, pavement cracked, missing in sections, strewn with soil and mud- power lines gridded in a rib formation beside the sidewalks on both flanks.
Sanford was being reminded of the little sprawl they had killed the roach in- he appreciated the quiet, but, it was still a little unnerving.
Though, in reminder- there really wasn't an environment in the wastes that WASN'T unnerving in some way.
Still, whether silence or ambient noises to show something not-so-friendly was nearby- Sanford was always on edge whenever they traveled. Traveling meant they were usually out in the open, and being out in the open exposed you to people with guns- Sanford didn't like it when people with guns showed up.
The armor was reassuring, at least- and now that shanty repairs had been made to the cuirass, Sanford had more confidence then when they had been running for their mothers from the Enclave.
The suit creaked with each step, his new sword over his hip, rifle and Nukalizer over his back- and Hancock's thruster hissed in contrast to the silence around them- the Deathclaw felt apprehensive of walking in the middle of the road, something she'd have NEVER considered doing not that long ago.
"It's fine, I'll handle it." Sanford said to her upon her own objection. "I'm not gonna' let anyone shoot you."
"That's what I fear for, monsieur'."
...She'd be pretty crushed if Sanford took a bullet for her.
She was far from lying to herself anymore- she enjoyed Sanford, greatly, if he died to save her, she wouldn't live too well with it.
That was mostly why she wasn't comfortable with the idea- but, Sanford had been doing this half his life, according to him- and his experience showed it. He'd survived this long with LESS than what he currently had- she wasn't doubting him.
The Deathclaw watched him from the side for a brief moment before reaffirming her inquisitive eyes about the boarded or dark windows of the houses around them- she glanced down alleyways- nervous.
Sanford noted her precautions with a smile beneath his helmet- he leaned towards her and said-
"Don't worry about it, me and Han' have the scans, remember? Coast is clear."
"I know, monsieur'." She mumbled. "You can never be too cautious."
"That is true, good advice."
pmpmpmpmpmp
-Faintly in the backdrop, overhead of their position, a minimalized clacking sound that echoed for what appeared to be miles. Gunfire.
The Deathclaw was hunched over, and she ground her teeth loud enough that Sanford heard it. He glanced over his scans and saw the lack of activity that had persisted throughout the entire travel today.
"Nope, too far from us, sir!" Hancock said from up ahead.
"We ARE near the city," Sanford said. "People are always kickin' the crap out of each other in the city."
"Is this not of concern?" She asked with a shocked tone. "D-Do the two of you stride into this often?"
"I'm insulted you'd think we'd do OTHERWISE!" Hancock admonished. "Pussy-Footing is for morons!"
"We get the best finds in the city." Sanford nodded. "We aren't gonna' back off just because it's a madhouse- we've dealt with worse."
"I find that frightening, mon ami'."
"Taking this... SERIOUSLY, for a moment," Sanford turned a knob on the flank of his new gun- the Laser rifle he had fixed up- it creaked, and the safety cut-off on the battery deactivated. "We might get into a fight, it's Boston city, me and Han' have a rare day in here without something happening."
"I'll be prepared, monsieur'."
"I'm not saying you don't know what you're doing, obviously,"
"Mm?"
"I am saying that me and Han' act like a team." He inclined his headgear at her. "I realize you've been alone in most of your fights, but if you're going to travel with us, you need to listen to us, and if I need you to execute something, you need to do it quickly. Okay?"
"Yeah, Croco-Smokes, San' of the 'ford over here knows his shit!" Hancock laughed. "Leave it to the professionals!"
"...I'll show you- 'Professional' -usiner'."
"I'LL SHOVE CLARICE UP YOUR BUNG-HOLE, BITCH!"
"If a sniper takes off one of your lenses," Sanford smiled. "I will not bolt it back, on the grounds of it marking your loud mouth."
"I don't even HAVE a mouth, damn it!" Hancock snapped. "Get your anatomy right, plebian!"
Up ahead, the road diverged in two- a spiral lane leading left, and the rest of the straight shot breaking into a collection of brick buildings- storefronts, an old plaza that had red cobble for its expansive sidewalks, a trio of cars were still lain to rest about the pavement there.
"Let's check the stores." Sanford stated. "Time to go to work."
"I MISSED rifling through people's household memories! ONWARDS!"
Hancock zoomed ahead down the road- dust swirling in his wake.
Sanford looked down both sides of the intersection they crossed- more rows of houses on either side, the expansion of urban nothingness.
The plaza had some golden light descending from above that reflected off the shattered shards of glass still clinging to some of the storefront windows. Banners, fetishes and decor were mismashed in dulled colors of reds, yellows, blues about the doorframes and brickwork.
A breeze whistled through the plaza- and Sanford watched Hancock float over to a blue door, opened, leading into the darkened interior of one of the stores- a flagpole sticking from one of the building's doorframes metallically clacked as the line rustled in the wind, lacking an actual flag on its tethers.
"How exactly do you-" -Glass broke inside the store Hancock had vanished in, he was laughing about something. "-...Do you 'Scavenge', Sanford?"
"We just go door to door, look around," He shrugged, aiming for the larger store at the end of the plaza- right ahead of them- it was a two-story building, a hardware sign over its front beneath two windows- it had a display window that was shattered, the interior enshrouded in darkness. "We've hit most of the buildings here, I haven't ever searched everything in THAT one though."
pmpmpmpmpmp
-More distant gunfire, automatic. If Sanford didn't know any better, it sounded louder than the last instance.
Maybe whatever firefight was happening was getting closer to them. That'd be interesting.
"Just watch your back, alright?" Sanford blinked at his empty scans.
"Oui'."
The double doors to the building were lain on the floor of the interior lobby- mostly glass, and shattered everywhere for a sea of shards- the frame was rather stout, and the Deathclaw squinted and had to duck to watch Sanford step inside.
Glass crunched under his boots- and inside was a concrete floor, and rows and rows of metal shelves that extended into the darkness- they were mostly emptied, some filled with strewn trash. A register counter was built into the leftwards flank of the interior- a Nuka-Cola advertisement poster was peeling away on the wall behind the rusty, blue register machine itself.
It shown a scantily clad human female wearing a strange outfit with a glass, dome-like helmet over her head- she was smiling, holding a bottle of the soda with the words- 'Nuka-Cola! Garunteed to BLOW your taste buds away!' -printed in faded red over her head.
"What is she wearing?" The Deathclaw sounded disgusted- amusingly to Sanford as he followed her gaze.
"Oh that's the Nuka-Cola Gal'! The Cola-naut! Like an astronaut, but, with soda..." She tsked, and he shrugged. "I know it was stupid, but you can't deny those thighs."
She felt a flare from his comment- but suppressed anything of it.
"I'm gonna' look inside real quick, you wanna' try to-?"
"I'll wait here, make sure the store usiner went into doesn't spontaneously implode."
"-It's happened before, Lizard-Freak!" -Crackled from the static of Sanford's communication bead in his helmet.
He chuckled and nodded.
As Sanford vanished between two shelves- the Deathclaw reclined from the doorframe and looked about the plaza they had come across- the once vibrant place of public commerce now littered with trash, dead vehicles, lost ways of life.
Some paper based stuff flittered in the breeze in tumbling motions across the street here and there- it was so quiet that she could hear Hancock rustling about inside the shop he had disappeared into.
CLK CLK
-Echoed from within the store, followed by a bout of cackling laughter from the robot. Plasma fire. Interesting.
"-Usiner'?" She called out.
"Ha-HA! OOOOooohhhhh YEESSSSS! Aw that was an itch that needed scratching! TAKE THAT, BITCH!"
"Usiner, what happened?"
"Sorry! Radroach!"
"Ugh." She rolled her yellow eyes.
pmpmpmpmp
pmppmpmpmp
pmpmp
pmp
-For 'Daily' consistent gunfire, that one bout of it was getting louder, and MORE consistent.
She assumed eventually Sanford's theory would prove correct, and it would stop entirely. But as she waited outside the hardware building, she heard the sound continue.
pmpmpmpmp
pmpmpmp
pmpmpmpmp
-It was similar to Sanford's submachine gun.
BMM
bmbm
-THAT, however, was not so similar.
A hollow sounding triplet of thuds. Explosions. The Deathclaw bowed her head and listened to the air- she heard... Voices.
Shouting.
This fight wasn't so far away anymore.
"Sanford?" She called back into the building. "Sanford, I think there's a problem."
"I see it," Sanford stomped out of the doorframe- his scans were submitting organic information. People, several people- he counted five heartbeats. "Get inside the hardware store."
"What if they're hostile?"
"Then you jump out and help us fight- but if they're settlers or something, I don't want to kill people who don't deserve it."
"...Fine."
"Hurry."
The Deathclaw huffed and ducked underneath the stout doorframe- her tail flicked inside and she was soon gone in the shadows. Sanford heard a shelf inside screech in movement- he looked out across the plaza and saw Hancock flying over to him.
"Sir! Sir! PROBLEMO'!"
"You're late to the party, man."
"Oh, well, think of it this way- WE GET TO KICK ASS! HOO-RAH, BABY!"
"We don't know who they are, let's remember that, buddy."
"Shoot first! Question corpse!"
"Keep your bolts on..."
pmpmpmp
pm
pm
bmm
BMM
-The sounds of the fighting were coming from behind the row of buildings in line with the hardware store- they were close enough that the weapons were heard in detail.
Sanford could discern shouting- men, mostly, but he heard feminine voices mixed in.
He peered down at his new gun, the Laser rifle- and he gave himself a brief mental reminder of all the parts, how he held Laser weapons he had previously fired in the past- as he hadn't used a rifle of said caliber in a long time.
He brandished the barrel to the east- he and Hancock faced the plaza's rightwards branching of the street- and down the way they looked, they saw nothing for a good while- Sanford's breath was hitched.
Hunching, they heard light padding sounds against pavement- fainter, getting louder.
Footsteps.
Somebody was running.
All at once, a trio of men in fluttering overcoats colored blue, and one white- emerged from an alley between two of the storefronts a few feet away- Sanford tightened his grip on his gun, and Hancock chambered a warhead in his missile launcher with a mechanical- THN-THNK
The three men had two handed weapons in their grasps- two assault rifles, one Laser-based rifle- they wore trifold hats, colonial- Sanford already knew who they were.
The group was facing back down the alley, snapping at each other- jabbing fingers east and west- one of them noticed Sanford and Hancock standing in the distance over his buddy's shoulder.
"OH SHIT!" -He cried.
The three Minutemen spiraled around and aimed their weapons at the towering man in Power Armor, and the robot fluttering beside him.
For a moment, nothing was said- and right when Sanford prepared to call out to them- the guy in the white overcoat spoke first.
"Who are you?! You Brotherhood?"
He and Hancock glanced at each other.
"No. Not Brotherhood."
"Where'd you get that armor?"
"Who's asking? Are you Militia?"
"6th Company! Corporal Brody! I think I know you!"
"-Doesn't ring a bell, pal'. We're not looking for a fight with the Minutemen."
"You're the guy who saved Bill Tentin's farm!"
"...Bill... Who?"
"He has a wife! Teresa! Out east?"
"...Raiders?"
"Yeah. I was one of the guys that helped you out."
"...That was a long time ago, Corporal...? What, again?"
"Corporal Brody, Jim Brody, look man- put your guns down you fucks-" The Corporal reached over with his one hand, shoved down the barrels of his two fellow's guns. "-This is that Tobs guy, remember?"
"And you say you're NOT a hero! HA! Monkey." Hancock mocked. "That's right! Bask in the rays of glory, mortals!"
The Minutemen either didn't hear him or ignored the robot as they sprinted over to their position on the sidewalk.
In closer detail, Brody was heaving, he was shining with sweat and he had red rings under his eyes- the two other fellows, a darker skinned man with a big beard, and a hispanic man with a clean-cut chin and face- were in similar condition.
Sanford lowered his gun and addressed the three of them with a curt nod.
"Well, we have names down, what do you want, Corporal?"
"I need you, and that robot's help!"
"THAT robot, EH?! Listen here, you powdered-wig wearin', revolutionary cocksucker-!"
"SSH." Sanford shut Han' up. "-What's the problem?"
"I have nine other men and a group of civilians, they're-"
"Where are you pinned, how many are there, and who are they?" Sanford grunted.
Jim had his mouth open mid-speech for a second, he stammered, caught himself with a cough.
"-A-Ahm- old carpenter shop, two streets away, uh- we saw at least twenty guys, we think they're Gunners."
"You think?"
"Sharpshooter killed two of my men, we fell back when a fireteam hit us- didn't get a good look at them. They're nasty, good firepower."
"...What do you think?" Sanford mumbled to Hancock.
"It's your call, sir."
"...Damn it," Looked like his quiet days were over again- pity. "-Corporal, I have a third person here with me."
"Hot damn that's good news- I need every person I can get-"
"-No no, she's..." Sanford struggled for speech, he grunted. "She's in the store behind us. Corporal, I need you and your boys to listen to me- she's not human."
"...W-What do you mean? G-Ghoul? She a Ghoul? I don't have a mother fuckin' problem with Ghouls, man- my men, are gonna' be fuckin' dead, if we don't move NOW! So get her out here and c'mon-"
"She's a Deathclaw."
"...I-I'm sorry, but... What the fuck did you just say, man?"
"She's a God damned Deathclaw, and you need to NOT shoot at her, when I ask her to come out, alright?"
"...Are you on Jet?"
"Fuck, man, c'mon! Something you have NEVER seen before, is gonna' walk out that doorway, right there-" Sanford jabbed an arm to the hardware store behind himself. "-I need you to stay calm and let me explain when she comes out."
Poor Jim was too exhausted to continue to call the nonsense on its bluff- he stood there, shocked, appalled, more and more adrenaline-fueled the longer he couldn't get to his fellows who were in trouble.
Sanford noted the dropping jaws of Jim's two men- he turned around, and called out for his friend.
"HEY! Deathclaw! Come out here! Friendlies!"
-Inside that store, her blood felt like it had turned into ice- she clammed up, and she felt dread growing in her system when Sanford said what he did.
She was tempted to stay, and indirectly refuse- but she feared what the results would be if she did so- more than the results she feared for upon revealing herself.
She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath- her hide shuttering, tail twitching.
He won't let them shoot me. -She reminded herself.
"Deathclaw! Come on, we don't have time!"
Here it goes. Heaven preserve me.
-She emerged from the archway sluggishly, her tall, reptilian form released from its compression- allowed her to step into the sunlight, and onto the sidewalk of the plaza.
She righted herself with a stretch to her back- feeling a cocktail of mingling pride to her fearsome appearance- and anxiety, for what whoever she was revealing herself to would DO once they saw her.
The Deathclaw kept her distance- and standing in front of Sanford and Hancock, was a trio of men in overcoats, with colonial trifold hats. They were Minutemen. They were the very people she and Sanford had been so concerned with.
She stopped breathing.
The two groups looked at each other in complete stupefied wonder for a good while- Corporal Jim's mouth was flapping like a fish's would, and his two men were reclined in horror.
All they saw was a monster- something they had been told was a terrible, terrible sight since they were children- and they were confused, thus, their reactions were mute, as to why the beast was just... Looking at them.
Sanford sighed, and turned back to face the militiamen- he shrugged.
"She's friendly, don't worry."
"Oh mon Dieu'..." She muttered- burying her face in her one claw's palm.
The Minutemen started to take a few steps backwards- and they jumped when Hancock started to try and amend the situation.
"She even speaks too! C'mon girl, SPEAK! I command you, TO SPEAK! I'll give you a Lizard Biscuiiiiittt!"
"FUCK. YOU." She muffled in her hand.
Jim jumped again when he heard her speak.
"I-I... Oh God..." He mumbled. "I thought that shit was just a myth."
"Deathclaws?" Sanford chuckled.
"N-NO... Intelligent ones... I-I heard about some in D.C. awhile back..."
She notably deflated by her shoulderline at this.
"...Y-You're saying it's WITH you?"
"She." Sanford corrected. "Yep. She's with us. So the answer's a yes, Corporal, I'll help your men out."
"..."
"Corporal?"
"..."
"...For Christ's sake, man! She's not gonna' try to EAT you! Get over it! Wake up!"
"...S-Sorry, I'm... I just don't believe it..."
"This is gonna' be a long day, sir..." Hancock sighed.
"I knew this was a bad idea." She commented from the sidelines.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Corporal Jim Brody.
If it was accurate that Jim had been with a group of militiamen Sanford had encountered in a fight defending people at a farm- than the two men hadn't run into each other for around six years after said event.
Jim and his two soldiers didn't exactly adjust to the Deathclaw being around them the whole time they explained what was happening- or while they were slipping through the sidestreets- so they kept a good distance from the trio as they moved.
"We had a group of people we were relocating to Diamond," Brody explained in whispers- as they were moving down a few streets lined with more concrete shops.
"We got word on the radio that a man of ours was in trouble- he was undercover, his cover got compromised, I said we should break him out.
Well, we leave the people were moving with a few boys in the carpenter place, me and four go out towards the hideout our man is being held in- and a fuckin' sharpshooter drops two of my guys, nearly hits me.
We take cover, and the next thing we know, we're getting assaulted by a group of twenty people with army-grade guns- we booked it, ended up on your street, lucky we did.
Right after a few alleys though, I hear on the radio that those fucks turned around and started shooting up the carpenter shop when they lost us. I will NOT, have innocents' blood on my hands, mark my words."
"Where did you get hit by the sharpshooter?" Sanford asked.
"Street's further away from here- I doubt the sniper's still there, he probably relocated with the rest of his group-"
"Jim?! JIM?! Jim, where the fuck are you! Richard's down! Kelehan's down! I'M down! We need help here!"
-The voice of a woman shrieked through static and garble from a walkie-talkie belted to the Corporal's breast underneath his overcoat.
The six individuals were lined against a brick wall of one of the buildings- Jim looked down at his guys and held the amplification button on the black device.
"I'm alive, Roe, we're coming, we found some help."
"Is it Dowm and the boys from the 18th?"
"No. A Wastelander, his robot, and... Uhm... L-Look, I know the guy, he's helped us out before, it's that Tobs fella'."
"Tobs? Who the fuck is Tobs?"
"The scav'."
"...Oh thank God... Well get his ass over here! I hear the Gunners outside calling for backup! HURRY!"
"Hang in there, Roe." Jim cut the link, and brandished his Laser Musket. "Let's go, people."
Gunfire was getting louder with every alley they swept through- Sanford gestured for the Deathclaw to stick to the walls of the buildings they skirted- as the fear of this sharpshooter that Brody spoke of was rife.
"Sir, monkey-meat-sacks around this corner!" Hancock reported. Sanford glanced at him, and looked at the scans in his helm's HUD- it now picked up over thirty heartbeats.
"God damn it..." Sanford looked up- the street they faced was a straight line, and it was T-shaped with a lain heading left, and THAT was where the gunfire was coming from. A lot of gunfire.
Patting of automatic weapons, controlled clicks of carbines and the barks of rifles- a full arsenal for whoever was fighting who- Sanford glanced ahead of their line, at the backs of Brody and his men, Sanford reached over and patted the closest man's back.
"Hey, get Jim."
The Corporal sifted down towards him after a moment.
"Tobs?"
"I'm going in front."
"Fuck that, man. My people, my responsibility."
"You're not wearing Power Armor, if you get caught in the open, you're dead. Gimme' a chance here."
"...Look, I appreciate it-"
"I'm not arguing with you. I ALWAYS, go in front, I'm not about to let the lot of you get shot like that..."
Sanford mumbled the rest of his unimportant rant to himself- he stepped around the Minutemen, keeping his gaze high down the end of the street he faced, as there were some taller buildings now that they were getting closer to the city's island.
If Sanford had his mapping correct, then they were somewhere in Somerville still- as they hadn't crossed any of the bridges to get anywhere near Fenway.
Usually the Minutemen liked to stay AWAY from the city... After all, the only people here that they had any affiliation with was Diamond, and Diamond basically had its own army force. Something was off about this, he just didn't know what, yet.
But Sanford pressed forwards anyway- his heartbeat hitching with each gunshot he heard- there was enough weapons discharge, that smoke from either bullet impacts or gunpowder usage was building in a ghostly plume from the street to the left.
The Minutemen sifted about, eyes locked on the Deathclaw when she leaned over them to watch Sanford intently.
The scavenger inched his helmet over the corner of the building, and he managed to peer out into the leftwards break from the main street.
It was another plaza rowed with brick storefronts- a flipped over truck with no trailer was on the side of a straight shot road, that connected to a rounded walking square further down the way- and like Jim had described, the soldiers that had attacked him were EVERYWHERE.
From his distance, Sanford counted at least eight people behind the flipped-over truck down there, they wore drab-colored combat armor, bandanas or army helmets over their heads- they were making arm movements towards the left.
A second later, and a collection of ten more broke from cover somewhere in the square- the guys by the truck opened fire with an assortment of projectile weapons at a rectangular building that was across from the square- and judging by all the bullet holes and damage done to the brickwork, Sanford could say THAT was where the Minutemen were.
The group of Gunners that had broken cover were now advancing down the street TOWARDS them- most likely trying to get around the front of the store the militia were inside- a flanking action.
Sanford jerked back behind the wall- his suit creaking- he looked at the Corporal.
"They're coming down this street."
"Trying to get around the front," Jim nodded. "What do you want to do? We should stop them."
"The three of you can cover me, I'm going closer down the street- Han'? Go up on the roof, support me."
"Rooftop duty! YEE-HAAAWWW!" BBMMssshhhhhmmm... -The Minutemen all leapt inside their own skin again when Hancock vanished in a pluming arm of soot up into the air, that looped and vanished over the top chin of the building they were pressed to.
Jim looked at his fellows and blinked.
"Rough day, lads."
"You guys ready?" Sanford looked over at his other friend. "Deathclaw,"
"Monsieur'?"
"You're gonna' come up behind me when I say so, okay?"
"Okay."
"Let's go." Sanford nodded.
"Covering!" Jim barked.
The two militiamen with rifles stood straight up, their overcoats fluttering from the motions- they moved to the brick corner, aimed down the street, and though intimidated by the cluster of drab-armored people moving down in a huddle towards them- they opened fire.
CLKCLKCLK
CLKLK
CLKCCKL
CLCKLCKL
-The assault rifles clattered into the air, muzzles flashing, dust pluming out the barrel's flanks. Corporal Brody fell to a kneel in front of his men- he raised the bulky hulk of his musket- and that weapon too added to the fury with a blooming flash of crimson, and a drawling moan of fried ozone.
The Gunners scattered- cries of surprise abound, two of them fell on the street, one screaming, the other with a steaming, cauterized breach in his abdomen.
Sanford broke into a sprint the second the Minutemen reclined back into hiding- his boots thudded against the pavement- he rounded the corner and advanced in the Gunner's direction- he saw the two bodies sprawled on the ground, and from behind alleys on either side of the street, he saw arms and heads flickering in peaks down at him.
Somebody stepped out from a slot of cover on the right side, on the concrete- Sanford fired his new gun for the first time on the move.
PTPTPTPPTPTPPTPTPT
-A cluster of crimson beams of light shot out in a controlled cone from the hip shot- hissing steam belched from the sides of the projector barrel, the three packs spun clockwise like a propeller on the rifle's midsection.
The Gunner Sanford targeted got tossed back like a ragdoll- arms in the air, feet kicking up to hip-level. Clouds of dispelled blood mixed with bursts of laser energy that punched into the man's chest and gut, tearing through the combat padding and vaporizing fist-sized clusters of his very body.
The Gunner flattened on the ground, and Sanford compressed himself as much as he could behind a corner in one of the buildings ahead- instantly, bullets licked off the brickwork behind him.
Cursing, he checked the battery meter on the gun, and was at least mitigated in his adrenaline to see that the charge hadn't really be fazed by the quick burst beforehand.
He liked this gun.
"Han'! Help me out!" He called into his helmet's microphone.
"EAT THIS, FUCKERS!"
-Sanford saw a comet catapult over the roof of the building he had rounded before- it arced through the air, right down the airspace over the street, and ended into the side of one of the alley's Sanford's enemies had scattered into.
BMMMMM
-Bricks and soot flew everywhere, a brief flash of roiling flame- Sanford heard someone scream through the near deafening explosion- he leaned out of his corner, and saw movement unsteadily pouring in clusters from the blinding smoke.
He aimed his gun at the motions and fired in three successive bursts- he saw jerks, wisps of smog kicked around from jolting bodies- green blobs of Plasma sailed into the blown-out lane from above as Sanford and Hancock created a killing field.
Jim and his men yelled for Sanford to get back into his little hideaway- and when he complied, the Minutemen peppered the other side of the street with quick bursts of fire, impacts pocking everywhere, and whatever Gunners that had been spared their fellow's fates kept their heads down.
Sanford took a chance and stepped out into the open, round the corner- he called out briefly behind him- "DEATHCLAW! MOVE FOR THE SMOKE!" -before firing his rifle in a few quick snaps at the unscatched alleys ahead.
There was a burst of aerially propelled blood, with darker trails of material flinging out with it- a Gunner flew in a sidewinding swing onto the street with a ragged wedge being torn in his skull.
Sanford just walked towards their positions- he shot two more people that tried to break cover- each falling with a trio or quad of bolts smacking into their chests and heads.
The Minutemen were stunned to see the Deathclaw fluently surge right past them, and sprint on all fours into the cloudy, sooty mess that Hancock's rocket launcher had made on the other side of the street that Sanford covered.
The reptile vanished into the swirling smoke-there were some screams, and as the dust settled she could be seen overhand tossing a ragged corpse run through by the gut over her head- her claws swung, impaled, and her feet planted and relocated- like a sick dance.
More corpses went airborne, and she finished the slaughter with a charismatically-placed- "RAAGGH!" -she used her foot to slide a twitching corpse from her left fingers.
"Clear!" Sanford called- he emerged from the alleys to the left, raising a hand for her, and then for Jim and his boys. He tried for the first time his new reloading mechanism he had made for the Laser rifle- and without changing the pack, he tore the wiring free from the top, took it out of the feed, flipped it over, stuck it back in, and stuck the wires on the new side.
As he expected, the gun locked with fresh power- all he had to do was wait for the other side of the battery to recharge, and technically, as long as the gun didn't get destroyed- he had no worry about ammunition.
The three militiamen jogged down the street towards the two of them- the Deathclaw was breathing heavily, Sanford kept his gaze locked over his shoulder at the plaza down ahead- there were bodies everywhere.
The cluster of dead Gunners to the left were all scorched in a heap of indistinguishable organics in the alleyway Hancock had nailed with the rocket- and the bodies became more whole the farther from the interior of the pass you looked- here they were run through with three to four gashes in their chests, or had fissures blown into them from Sanford's gun.
Jim overlooked the handiwork with a drape in his jaw.
"...W-We couldn't have done that." He muttered.
"They probably heard all that," Sanford reasoned, pointing for the plaza ahead. "We should hit them now, before they reorganize."
"W-Whatever you say, animal-man."
"C'mon. Hancock, stay to the rooftops! Deathclaw," He nodded for her. "Stay behind me, when I pin a position, run in and make mincemeat out of them."
"Monsieur', just to tell you," She sneered down at her bloodied nails. "I knew this was a bad idea."
-0-0-0-0-0-
Here was the only positive thing about this fight.
The positive thing was, that Sanford had gotten the first shot- it was always, always, ALWAYS, a good thing when you were the one who got the first shot.
They'd wiped out a small cluster of the Gunners without even so much as a scratch to themselves- something unheard of, IF, you weren't in such a team of man, robot, and Deathclaw.
They tried to keep it quiet in an advance into the plaza's flank- Sanford was in front, Jim and his guys were behind him, and the Deathclaw had slunk into an alleyway, much against Sanford's suggestions- but he let her do it, if she had a plan, it couldn't be a bad one, she was too smart.
They managed to get close enough to see the people hiding behind the truck in the center flank of the plaza- Sanford noted someone inside the carpenter shop in almost every second story window- they'd pop out with a carbine, or a rifle, shoot and then drop down again.
There were so many bullet marks, that the building looked like it had a spotty texture to it.
Sanford had his eyes on the scanner systems in his helmet the whole while he moved down the storefronts he passed- he glanced in any windows he passed, was relieved to not hear nor see any kind of Gunner activity.
"Sir!" Hancock shrieked into his communications, suddenly. "Sir, lookout!"
"What is it?" Sanford froze.
"SNIPER! Cowardly bastard at 2-'o-clock! Down the street, top floor, left window!"
"Oh shit-" Sanford looked down the street ahead of the plaza- just barely, through the window of a building Hancock indicated- he saw a reflective flash from the scope of a gun, a tiny sparkle. "-FUCK! SNIPER!"
Craning his arm behind him- Sanford practically bunched the three Minutemen in his arms, and catapulted them through the shattered frame of a store front window.
CRRSSHH!
-The three men rolled ahead of him, and Sanford was scrambling to his heels. There was a cracking sound, and jagged chips flew from a brick right on the window's frame as the sniper was denied his quarry outside.
"Damn it." Sanford picked up his gun, minded Brody and he fellows collecting themselves off the floor- and inched towards the window frame. He slowly angled the side of his helmet over the rim- peered across the plaza, and shot back inside.
sskWHHM
-The bullet screamed as it snapped off the brick one above the prior.
"Guy's good." Sanford muttered.
"What do we do, sir?" One of the Minutemen asked Brody.
"I can try to take the bastard out with my musket... Long shot though..." Jim grumbled, checking himself over.
"No." Sanford dismissed. "Han'? You see that piece of shit?"
"Aye-aye! Just so ya' know, Gunners are clearing out of the plaza!"
"Good news, we spooked 'em," Sanford nodded back at Jim. "Hit the building with a warhead, I'll follow up, try to pin him."
"HA-HA! PYRO-FUCKIN'-TECHNICS TIME! WOOOO-!" -Sanford sighed and cut the screaming short with a click of his communications.
"Wait for it." He said.
ssshhhSHHMMMMM...
-He heard the missile sail, and dust flittered down from the cieling of the interior they were in- some small items quaked.
Sanford peeped around the window edge again, and smiled when a pluming breakage of catapulting bricks, smoke, soot and flame erupted right next to the window the sniper had used- the resulting bang echoed for miles, and the broiling blackness and licking fire rose several feet in the air down there.
Sanford magnetically clicked his Laser rifle to his hip- he reached over his back, took up the stock of his new bolt action beside the Nukalizer- he brought the rifle into his grip, flicked off the hammer's safety.
Brandishing in a tortoise-aim around the window's egde- Sanford's suit creaked and whined as he struggled to keep its bulky mass as compressed as possible- he aimed down the little iron sight on the end of the frame.
"You don't have a scope-?" Jim sounded angry- but Sanford quietly shushed him.
Through the rolling smoke and flames from the gaping tear in the building's second floor- Sanford switched his suit's vision to night filters- he saw the faint, green outline of a person, scrambling off the floor, picking up a two-handed object- a rifle. That was his man.
Sanford grew statue still- he closed one eye, kept his finger over the trigger.
Raising the peg a bit, he did his best to compensate for bullet drop- steadied further, moved slightly to the right to follow the outline of the man.
CLK
-The rifle barked, and he lowered the weapon to view the building ahead, narrowing his vision.
"...Well...?" Jim asked behind him.
"I think I got him." Sanford smiled. "Han'? Scan for me?"
"FUCKER'S DEADER THAN A DOORNAIL! HA! KIDNEY SHOT!"
-0-0-0-0-0-
Though she was inclined to not do so on account of them retreating- some lack of desire to respect those who gave no respect of their own had her lash out.
The Deathclaw caught five of the Gunners when the group broke and fell back out of the plaza- intimidated by the fact an entire group of their friends got obliterated all in the span of a few minutes without them even seeing it directly.
The gunfire had all but stopped in the backdrop- and in the shadows of the buildings around her, the Deathclaw hunched over when she had heard bootfalls patting through the soil and concrete of the alleys.
In an instant, four men, a woman- all garbed in drab-painted pre-War army padding and uniforms, ran out into the space she was standing in- and they all screeched to a collective halt about each other when they saw her.
One of the men managed to cry out- "OH MY FUCKIN' GOD-!" -before she was on them, like a fly to shit.
Her claws raked left and right in two dashing swipes- and with each cast, someone was tossed in the given direction with a quad of fissures tearing down their torsos in a mixture of crimson, and red-stained pink.
She opened her mouth and belted out her best attempt at a roar- it was pathetic by Deathclaw standards, seeing as she didn't use her vocal chords for stuff like that a lot... But she got the point across, and the hissing bellow actually frightened her foes enough that one of them dropped a weapon he brandished.
The woman hollered, and she was cut short of not only her voice, but her very head- the still standing corpse was shouldered away, and the last of them were soon flung to the earth, rivers of blood bubbling in geysers from torn wounds down their backs- as the retreat had failed.
Standing among the corpses- her shoulders lifted, reclined, lifted, reclined- she tried to calm her breathing, snorted, and stomped over them without casting a second look.
Her hide was again matted with splotches of brownish red- her nails were dripping. She felt dirty again, but was too embroiled with the combat situation to mind it.
Sunlight made her narrow her yellow eyes- she found the same street that she, Sanford and the Minutemen had taken to advance on the plaza- which now had fallen silent. Originally, she had planned to attack the Gunner mercs' from the side, and advance into the plaza, but, it turned she no longer had too.
She trotted down the sidewalk, and saw Sanford and his three new allies emerging from the shattered window of a storefront- he noticed her and raised an arm- the Minutemen glanced and then were stalking forwards for the plaza.
"There you are!" Sanford smiled. "They ran."
"Apparently." She huffed, standing before him- she went to offer her palm, remembered the blood, and instead leant down and bumped his shoulder with her horn again. "You aren't hurt?"
"Me? Hurt? In a gunfight? Nah, I'm alright. Though... that's a lot of blood you have there-"
"It's not mine." She frowned.
"OH. I'm taking you ran into some of them?"
"Deceased."
"Alright, good." Sanford turned back towards the end of the street- he noticed the building where the sniper had been still burning from its new wound in the backdrop- and before that, Jim and his men were at the foot of the shop, calling up at the windows.
Sanford saw the front door of the establishment shift, and then the green, wood entry swung open- a woman in similar colonial dress limped out, and was laughing in relief- Jim embraced her -dropping his Laser mucket on the pavement.
The Deathclaw observed from the distance with him- partly overtaken with curiosity.
"Just stay back until me and this Corporal guy talk to his friends, alright?" Sanford said.
"Yes, mon ami'."
"Hancock? Come down here would-ya'?"
"Uhm... Sir,not to burst colonial-salad's party over there, but my scanners are goin' NUTS! Those freak-jobs are coming back! And they brought friends!"
"Shit. Stay back until I get these people organized," Sanford said. "The Gunners are coming back."
"Reinforcements?"
"Han', can you give me specifics?"
"They have something BIG, sir! It has a robotic signature!"
"And to think, I was stupid enough to show up in the CITY, expecting a quiet day..." Sanford growled. "Wait here."
"Mm."
"JIM! Jim, we got a freaking problem!"
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