CHAPTER 42
Men of Wires and Metal.
Tracking the signatures of the fleeing foes wasn't the issue that Sanford or Hancock were troubled with- it was actually the easiest part about what they were doing.
The issue that Sanford mostly had, seeing as Hancock was perfectly content to just throw himself at danger and go with whatever happened- like the crazed thing he was -was the issue of their scans locating the specifics of their target's location.
The scanners might give them brief trouble of deciding which level a target was on a multi-story building- as, it usually took a moment of examination to see exactly WHERE the scans were pointing. That second of time could give a sharpshooter all they needed to line up a reticule on any one of them.
Sanford didn't hold much confidence in Gunner snipers, as, they were notorious handling jobs with the following tactics-
-Move in with heavy weapons to chew everything up, have small squads of infantry advance under their own mortars or said heavy weapons, support the infantry with follow up robots and personnel reinforcements.
There were some pretty crazy notions the Gunners followed, and it was made even more mad, because the infantry willingly adopted it as their combat doctrine. The Gunners had a thing for advancing under friendly bombardment, and while you would think it would inflict greater losses, the unbelievable thing was, the Gunners actually took LESS whenever they were able to muster their full strength tactics in a fight.
It had something to do with how they trained their weapon teams, and the type of weapons they used- Sanford hadn't seen everything in their arsenal, and he doubted even most Gunner infantry knew every single thing their commanders had locked up back at their bases.
But the Gunners were mobile, they never stayed in one place for long, and they relied on salvaged pre-War military communications equipment to stay in touch across the Commonwealth and surrounding areas- that meant their heavy weapons needed to be mobile too.
The Gunners used robots even designed for that purpose, they were deemed- 'Fast' -types, and that revolved around stuff like Assaultrons, Sentry-Bots, Gutsy's- it was not as common to see Gunners using Protectrons or Robo-Brains, they were too slow.
Sanford had seen the Gunners with SOME of those models, but they were usually locally acquired, and the Gunners ran them to the limit until they were destroyed or broke down, and then they would disassemble them and use them for spare parts.
The Gunners were a problem for that reason, especially in an urban fight- they moved fast, they relocated fast, and they had hard-hitting gear that was designed specifically to move fast with them.
It wasn't the sniper's in-the-moment aim Sanford was concerned with, it was just IF, a sniper could get the jump on them. Again, Gunner snipers weren't as bad, as say some of the sharpshooters Sanford had heard of in the Brotherhood, or that guy with the Laser rifle from the quarry with the Enclave.
Snipers were snipers, and the Gunners were trained.
SO, even though it made them move slower- Sanford and his companions kept to the sidewalks of all the streets they passed through- compressed against the buildings, ready to jump off into alleys or side roads in case a shot rang out.
Surprisingly, though, in contrast to the paranoia- Boston City was relatively quiet as they pursued the retreating Gunner forces- no wildlife came out to strike at them, and they didn't run into any Mutants or thugs.
"Usually the city's crawling with those things..." Sanford muttered when the Deathclaw queried these forces.
"Maybe they've finally killed enough of each other." She sighed- behind him, watching the street ahead.
"Wishful thinking." He chuckled. "I've been waiting for the Raiders to die off for years... Doesn't seem to be working."
On the subject of such low people- the streets of Boston indeed had hit an all time low of similar caliber.
The streets were always in a stout U-shape, like skatepark ramp alleys because there was so much trash and rubble piled over the remains of the sidewalk that there were entire blocks that looked like they had once been the home of a long dried up river.
Most of the buildings were wounded with great gashes and angular tears down their stone or glass faces- revealing large slivers of white sunlight to burst forth from their shadowy interiors.
A scavenger bird cawed once in the backdrop- a nearby rusty car settled with a creaking disruption- but other than that, no gunfire, no explosions, no people.
They had been thrust into hell, and just like that, they vicously tore free of it and here they stood.
Sanford was flexing his teeth over his tongue- chewing lightly -he had his eyes flicking between the scanner readings in his helmet and all the windows he saw still intact on second or third stories or above that.
"I wonder if this is where they buried Joe Mcarthy!" Hancock observed sharply, flying to Sanford's flank. "Place has the quality he earned."
"I'm sure they didn't bury Joe frikkin' Mcarthy here, man." Sanford chuckled. "What is it with you?"
"I have LIBERTY fever! Hoo-rah!"
"Can you still remember the amount of people that walked these streets, monsieur'?" The Deathclaw mumbled to him from behind.
Sanford quirked a brow and angled over his shoulder pauldron. Meeting his gaze, she gave a little hop of her shoulders.
"Out of the blue question." She added.
"No problem at all. Yeah, I can, a little bit. I mean, they're FUZZY memories, but, they're memories."
"It must have been amazing."
"In the moment, before I knew what would happen? When I was innocent," Sanford shook his head. "No. I took my daily sights for granted, every day. Too late now, right?"
"Mm."
"In fact, the longer we chase these people, the closer we're getting to Charles River Dam," Sanford noted. "That was the road I took to my first baseball game at Fenway."
"What's the significance of that dam?" She asked.
"Well, it's the bridge that we need, leads deeper into the city, by the north end."
"And these... Scans...?"
"Point in that direction, yeah."
To their right, an expansive lot of pavement, probably a few miles wide- was gradually revealed past the shredded remains of an office building- there were clusters of ruined cars dotted throughout the dusty expanse.
The Deathclaw slowed in her walking as she looked across this vast space of nothingness- a few tall buildings were visible through the slightly foggy haze on the other side of the lot, and they were as broken and hollowed as all the others, even while blurred and faded at their bases.
The crumpeled remains of a bridge of somekind, an overpass- were folded and collapsed in a drawling limb that ran parralel to the lot's edge they were closest to- it extended as far as the eye could see, north and south- and the scorched remains of a subway car was meshed in with the pile a little away from them.
She saw it was a train track, obviously, if there were TRAINS wrecked in it than what the heck else could it be?
"There was a rail line here?" She asked, watching her heels as she navigated in a slight dip in the pavement- a crack, that actually made the level of street she was standing on a head taller than the patch ahead.
Sanford stopped at the edge, waited for her to step down from the difference in the fissure- and then hopped down beside her-
BMMk
-The suit rattled.
"That overpass was already ancient even when the bombs hadn't wrecked everything," Sanford said. "Boston IS one of the oldest cities in the country."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah," Sanford admonished. "Just like New York, Philadelphia, Providence- they all date back to the Thirteen Colonies."
"The English colonies, monsieur'?"
"Yep."
"I read about them briefly, I had meant to research them further if I ever was granted another chance at books on the subject."
"What a bunch of NERDS!" Hancock snapped in interruption. "All ya' need are the fat glasses and the plastic pocket protectors! You'll be set for Dork-ville'! And by extension- COMMUNISM VILLE!"
"You think nerds are Communists?" Sanford asked, interested. "That's new."
"Nerds, Jehova's Witness, Telemarketers, Bank Tellers, Meter Cops, CEO's, Strippers, and fuckin' Adolph Trump!"
"...I... I don't think that last person was... Do you mean, Adolph Hitler AND Donald Trump?"
"What's the difference?"
"PFFT-HA-HA-! OH man- HA!"
The Deathclaw understood the logic with Hitler, but this other person was lost knowledge to her.
She raised a brow as the man and robot cackled in the center of the sidewalk.
"Not to kill the mood, but, who are we discussing?" She asked.
"-Oh," Sanford sighed, smiling. "A long, LONG time ago, before the war was even a concern, a while after the Cold War, I think? There was this guy who managed to run for being the president of the United States, and, the funny thing is, he was a racist, a bigot, he badmouthed everyone and he liked using- 'It'll be great!' -a lot. Guy was out of his fucking mind."
"They should've hung him!" Hancock declared. "But NOOoooOOOOOooo... Where's the- 'DEMOCRACY' -in that, huh?!"
"Just so you understand how long humans were setting themselves up for disaster," Sanford said to her. "-The United States allowed someone like Mussolini to get a hairslength away from being our president."
"...That's... Terrible." She cringed. "People were that desperate?"
"People were that ANGRY, that logic just flew out the window." Sanford said. "I don't think there has ever been a time where we haven't made our planet a mess in some way throughout that age."
"See that?!" Hancock laughed. "You monkeys naturally fuck shit up! No wonder Mother Nature's such a bitch! Ole' girl's probably been raging so much she's on the perma'-rag!"
"Ssh." Sanford chuckled.
"There's the 'Rag' comment again," The Deathclaw sighed. "Elaborate?"
"Ugh, for God's sake, Han'," Sanford rolled his eyes. "It's the menstrual cycle, you know what that is?"
"So, you thought I was OVULATING a few days ago?!" She snapped. "Degoutant' petite' merde'!"
CLK
-She reached over and flicked him in the back of the helm.
"-Ow-!" Sanford was laughing so much that he didn't really process the jerk of motion. "-Jeez', alright! Alright!"
Up ahead, partially breaching through the consistent hiss of a quiet wind- the moaning ambience that always showed forth the haunting stillness of Boston's streets- there was lapping water, it wasn't roaring, nor was it loud enough to be immediately recognizable.
They reached the edges of a four-way intersection- and from where they stood, the lanes looked absolutely massive, in not only size, but just from a sense of intimidation.
Down to the right, that lead deeper into more garbage-strewn streets, back towards Somerville, left was an entrance into the great lot, it was blocked by collapsed concrete from the railroad bridge that was crippled in full extension down north and south.
Straight ahead, the road wound for a bridge that was flanked with a plateau of structures on its right- one was larger, rectangular and not as ruined- the three of them stood on the intersection corner of the sidewalk and gazed in all directions.
Sanford knew that building up ahead, it was... What the heck was it again... He'd been there as a kid... He'd remember when they passed it.
"Sir! Gunner-douche' signatures detected, straight ahead! In THAT building! THERE!" Hancock snapped, pointing a drill at the building flanking the Charles River Dam bridge.
"Are you sure?" Sanford raised a brow- blink activating his own signature scan in his internal HUD. "It looks like they're NEAR the building, not in it."
"Check again, you monkey!"
"...Oh yeah, good eye', Han'."
"OCU-LENSES! Not eyes! Uneducated PLEBIAN!"
Sanford shook his head- he peered down the right lane that was flanked on both sides by taller buildings- and he peered ahead, not even bothering with the boring nothingness of the left.
The scans said no living organisms were present in their vicinity, but... It was out in the open.
Sanford chewed his tongue.
"I'll go out first." He said. "I have the armor, if someone starts shooting, get to cover, got me?"
"Why can't I be the test-dummy?!" Hancock cried. "I LOVE explosions!"
"You're a 'Dummy'- alright, usiner'." The Deathclaw chortled.
"EAT ME!"
"My God, Han', SHUT. UP." Sanford groaned. "You're gonna' let every Gunner in the tri-state area know where we are!"
"I don't have to listen to the likes of YOU! Communist sympathizer!"
"Holy shit..." Sanford grunted, turning away. "Keep your eyes open, Deathclaw."
"Mm."
Sanford took a deep breath, and stepped into the street.
clm
clm
clm
clm
clm
His boots echoed against the pavement in his cautious trot.
-The building where the Gunner sig's were coming from was too far off for anything but a sniper to be effective from that range- but Sanford kept his eyes on the slot-like windows of the concrete walls- the building was still pretty small for how far it was, and there was plenty of cover from commercial structures to the intersection, and subsequent street's- right flank.
A scavenger bird fluttered from a second story window above his head- he cringed at the sound of the mutated avian's ruffling feathers drawing briefly through the air.
There was no gunfire, no shouting... The Gunners were probably deep inside, or, they just hadn't seen him.
It was possible they set up on the wrong side of the building from where they had ran to- that happened with a group of highwaymen once- Sanford and Hancock had entered one side of a three story office structure, and it turned the bandits had propped up on the second story, overlooking the streets on the opposite side by complete error.
Sanford was soon on the opposite side of the intersection, and, standing there- he listened for a good minute, sighed- arced his arm in a gesture for his friends to follow him.
The Deathclaw jogged to catch up, and Hancock levitated beside her. Sanford waited on the sidewalk for them- and he peered ahead at the building again.
There had once been gardens and hedges surrounding the property, and all that was left were brown clusters of dead sticks jutting up into the air from all those once lush plants. The bridge was dabbed with a handful of rusty cars, and a passenger bus that was pulled off to the left lane facing the wrong way.
There were clouds building in the sky above- it wans't so clear and blue anymore, as, they had been traveling through the city for a good while now, Sanford hadn't kept track.
The concrete trench that fissured the canal underneath the bridge dropped for the dark water below, extending far right and left- the buildings on Sanford's flank prevented him from seeing all the way down to the right, and some squat warehouses to the left ceased any further sight seeing there too.
There were only some faint sloshing sounds- like small waves just brushing against the mildew-encrusted concrete of the canal's walls, and against the plazas built along its lower levels. Sanford rooted in his spot- he tried to remember what this building had looked like when he had been there as a boy, but... He just couldn't.
There was a sign, rusted, and with portions torn away in place of ragged blackness to its hollow interior- it was on a marble pedestal, and the metal had once been painted white- it read, in silver letters-
Museum of Science, Massachusetts
-And just like that, Sanford's memory was jogged.
"That's the Museum of Science." He said, falling into step with his companions to his rear. "I completely forgot."
"No shit, Sherlock!" Hancock grunted. "There's only a gigantic SIGN out front that SAYS THAT. What's wrong with you, man?!"
Sanford didn't humor the response.
There was the flattened remains of some kind of large structure that bordered the Museum ahead from the buildings down here- it was a giant pile of cracked concrete, fallen support struts and twisted girders- Sanford saw smashed cars mixed in with the debris- it had been a parking garage, probably.
It took them a minute to reach the edges of that wreck- the three of them slunk alongside a drawing concrete wall that had once been part of the garage's base structuring- there was an old police cruiser left for scrap on the side of the road that they passed to the left.
Sanford glanced at it, and saw the windshield indented with a brick that was bigger than him- a human skeleton was pancaked against the dashboard, arms caught under the wheel, in the driver's seat.
The Museum's southern flank towered ahead of them- and Sanford peered around the concrete wall they compressed to- the sig's were saying the Gunners were inside, but they didn't have specifics.
The front entrance was too far for them to ring around the building's property- Sanford wanted to get inside as soon as possible- he still remembered that the Gunners had a mortar with them, he doubted they dumped it just to get away from him, they hadn't found any abandoned equipment in their pursuit.
"Han'," Sanford nodded. "See if you can fly to a higher vantage in the garage's ruins, right overhead, cover us."
"You got it! ROOFTOP DUTY! MY FAVORITE!"
"Quietly, God damn it!"
"Fine, fine... I see... Samantha-Soul-Slasher!"
"Jesus H. Christ, GO."
"TALLY-HO!"
FHHWMM!
-The robot shot up like a missile when he overloaded his thruster- all that was left with a quick distortion in the very air.
The Deathclaw reclined from her jump back, and snorted with a glance to the clear air above.
"Found a flat surface! Setting up!" Hancock radioed.
"Got it." Sanford looked at her now. "There is a set of doors over there, see? The blue ones?"
The Deathclaw leaned over the corner and his shoulder pauldron.
An outcrop in the brick structuring of the museum- kind of like a kiosk- had a set of windows on either side, was connected to the crisscrossing sidewalks of the property by a walkway to a pair of blue doors.
"Get back in here-" Sanford was cut off when the second story slot windows on the flank of the building erupted in gunfire.
"FUCKERS! We found 'em!"
"-DAMN IT-! MOVE!"
Sanford had his whole armored arm over her waist in a second- he tugged her back behind the concrete corner.
WHM-WHM-WHM
-A cluster of rounds screeched off the wall and the sidewalk- dust catapulted from still steaming fissures in the stone.
The Deathclaw bumped against the wall to her back- arms splayed, face contorted in a cringe- Sanford noted, as he peeled away from her, that her tail had stuck out rigidly between her legs.
"Je vous' remercie'." She gasped.
"That means thanks? I think?" Sanford called over as more rounds clipped about the sidewalk and the other side of the wall. "Hancock?! Where are they?!"
"Second story window! Rapid-fire weapons! Hold on, I'LL save you, plebians!"
CLAK CLAK CLAK
-Green Plasma sailed into the slot windows from overhead- the gunfire stopped briefly- Sanford peered over the corner- tapped the Deathclaw's arm, and held his Laser rifle by the stock one-handed- pointing for the doors.
"C'mon! We gotta' run!"
"Out in the open?!" She almost shrieked.
"Han's covering us! COME. ON!"
He grabbed her by the wrist- and the slightly taller, more imposing reptile suddenly found herself being tugged in a sprint behind him as they ran across the pavement.
By the time Han's fire slackened- the two of them were across the pavement in a heart-stopping collection of seconds- Sanford slammed against the brickwork on one side of the doorway, and he tossed her over by the other side.
The Deathclaw had her mouth open for how hard she was panting- she stood by the wall and looked ahead at Sanford, trying to focus on his helmet's eye lenses.
Someone shouted up on the second story of the building- it wasn't audible- rifles patted again, and Hancock's fire ceased as he dug deeper into cover in the ruins of the garage, wherever he had lodged himself in there.
"I'll breach the door," Sanford hoarsefully hissed to her- nodding at the blue doors. "You come in after me!"
"Okay." She swallowed.
Sanford started to shift over- he was going to drop-kick the doors- a comedic comparison of the old 'Cop' television series flashed in his mind very quickly.
Something bounced off the roof to the kiosk- it looked like a rock -it landed on the pavement right behind him- rolled to stillness.
"MONSIEUR'!"
"Wha-'?!- FUCK!"
Sanford dropped his gun- it clattered on the pavement- the suit whined and creaked, and in the span of five seconds, he wheeled around, grabbed up the grenade- arced back his arm, and tossed it like a baseball as far as he could.
The grenade was a black dot as it sailed several feet over the dead clusters of ferns nearby- a moment later, a plume of chunk-filled dust belched over the brush-line.
CLK!
clkclk
-Another grenade landed nearby.
Sanford was over to it, and he threw it in the OTHER direction.
clkclkc
-"AAGGH!" Sanford screamed in frustration- he was like a pitcher in the old Red Sox games he had seen as a child- this grenade vanished over a chainlink fence to the museum's back property.
Sanford looked up- cursed again -and shouldered up to the brick of the kiosk.
whmwhCLKCLCKLCKCLCK
-Bullets clocked the trim and roof of the kiosk, the sidewalk he was on.
Breathing heavily, Sanford picked his gun up- glanced upwards again.
"Fuckin' guy's got a shoulder MG'."
"A what?!" She called over.
"Gotta' breach the doors! Here we go- you ready?!"
"I- I don't-"
"Are you ready? Here we go- one-two-three-!"
CLMAK
-Sanford checked the doors with his pauldron and arm- they snapped aside in either direction, dust flinging from their ancient frames, one of the handles clattering away on the concrete floor inside like a high pitched chime.
The Deathclaw ducked and slipped inside the frame after him.
"...They're inside-! FRANK!..."
The hall they entered broke for a doorframe that lead into a big seating area up ahead- Sanford and the Deathclaw were already compressing themselves to the doorway's sides as gunfire erupted from inside the lobby chamber.
CLKCLKCLCCLCKCLCKCLK
-Bullets licked through the open doorway, right past Sanford's face and past her chest level- they ate into the brick frame too- Sanford was thankful it was made from what it was- if this had been plaster, they would be in trouble.
Sanford minimized the organic scans- he picked up seven sig's in the chamber beyond.
"There's some behind the chairs, monsieur'!" The Deathclaw jerked her head back- she was forced to hold her chin high- as, the elongation to her narrow skull kind of made it harder to keep her head in such a small space.
Sanford glanced- leant back, gripped his gun, and aimed it over the corner.
PMPMPMPMPMPMPM
-Red bolts punched through the rear row of chairs out of the block of them set up in the center of the chamber- he heard a scream.
"-Two contacts! Squad base, iota!"
"Frank's down!"
"Fuckin' piece-a'-shit!"
Sanford saw that there was a second story catwalk- connected to the seating area by two stairwells- the further insides of the building were too shrouded in shadow, and not important enough, for any more detail.
Sanford switched his night vision filters on even though he could see in the shaded chamber- it would outline any of the Gunners if they were out in the open.
"-They're on the catwalk!" The Deathclaw hissed. "Mid-center, monsieur'!"
Sanford repeated his prior attack.
He peaked, shot back, waited, and then aimed around the corner.
PMPMPMPMPMPMPMPPMPM
-He strafed the gun from left to right across the white-painted aluminum plates acting as railings for the catwalk above- the shots pierced right through it- something tumbled, and red energy misted from the pulsating gashes it tore in the metal, and from where the shots kept going and burned into walls on the second story.
"-Fall back! Get the fuck outta' there-!"
"-I'LL KILL YOU!"
Footsteps, echoing, distant.
Sanford leapt from cover and stood in the doorway- he aimed down the sights, saw a cluster of helm domes jerking farther and farther away from the railing up there as the Gunners' fell back deeper.
"Come on, keep up the pressure!" He barked to the Deathclaw. "Up the stairs!"
Ahead, past the stairwells, if they stayed on the first floor- there were doorways that lead to the once varying and vibrant exhibits and showrooms on the first floor- if they weren't in a firefight, he would've argued going to check them out.
But there were no life signatures down on their level as far as he could tell- and wiping these Gunners out was more important.
They ran around the rows of metal, white-painted chairs that centered the chamber- both on the right flank- when they reached the foot of a staircase on the right side- Sanford glanced back and saw a pair of corpses mangled on the other of the ruined rear-line seating.
"Good spotting." He commented over his shoulder.
"Good shooting." She breathed.
Sunlight streamed in from large canvas windows that were two-stories tall on the left flank of the chamber- to stand against the shady interior of the museum- it was a big room, and there were ceiling panels that were loose above.
Sanford just noticed it as the stairs thudded under his boots.
They reached the second story- it had a red carpeted floor, it was a small seating area, there was a cafe that was accessible by double doors straight ahead- there were three bodies lying on the floor by the railing to their right.
Sanford took a second after clearing the top step- he stood by the bodies after peering around the seating area- he found an abnormality with one of them, as, two were typical for Gunner attire- drab-colored combat padding and uniforms.
But one man was shirtless- he had pitch-black leather shoulder pads with red lines painted in a tiger-pattern across them up and down- a combat belt held black leather stocks draping in a skirt over his bare legs- he had cleated boots, and a bolt action rifle was in his cold hands.
He'd been hit in the stomach- there was a blackened, crimson-matted gash right center his gut- and his eyes were still open as he had folded on his back, arms hugging his gun across his chest.
"Monsieur'? What is it?" The Deathclaw asked.
"He's not a Gunner." Sanford mumbled, nodding at he corpse. "Look at him, He's not Gunner."
"...So, what? What does that mean?"
"Follow me, c'mon."
They checked in the cafe- and that was empty, so they tried to ring around to the right, where Sanford had seen the heads of their foes recede to up here.
A hallway extended ahead- the walls here were no longer brick, but plaster, and orange painted- now matted with age and damage, torn in places. Sanford didn't like that- plaster walls in urban fighting were simply bad news, no dressing it up.
They rounded the corner of the hall-
"YAAAGGGHH!"
-And there was another guy- not a Gunner- but in this black red-painted leather attire like the fellow before him- standing in the center of a left-right intersection, and in his hands he had a two-handed weapon- Sanford saw the model, and he raised his gun without even bothering to dive for cover.
It was a light machinegun- he had to kill the guy NOW.
PMPMPMPMPMPM
-Red beams scythed out, the guy's scream was cut short, and the man flung backwards at such an angle, and with such force- Sanford saw the soles of his cleated boots.
The man kicked in the air and fell flat on his back with a cluster of blackened, cauterized welts drawn up and down his chest and stomach- the machinegun barked, flashed the whole hall a bright yellow for a moment- and tore ten holes in the ceiling above.
Sanford advanced down the hallway without delay- the Deathclaw staying close behind him. The body was just being neared when an arm extended around the left corner of the intersection- Sanford ducked, he reached behind and shoved the Deathclaw's shoulder downwards.
The Gunner held an SMG one-handed- the gun discharged and rounds flew right over their heads.
"FUCKIN'-GOD DAMN-!" Sanford screamed- wincing as he aimed and fired a cluster at the corner ahead.
PLK!
-A squelch of ruined organics- blood streamlined and formed a drawing arm across the orange wall at the end of the hall- the Gunner screamed, and he fell on his side right dead-center the carpet floor- everything below the wrist a cauterized stump.
"NO! NO! NO! NO-!" PMPMP -Sanford put two shots in his chest to shut him up. The body wriggled, turned on the other side like an earthworm would recoil from being touched- stopped moving.
BMbmbm
-Thudding from the right.
The Deathclaw snarled- Sanford's suit creaked as she wheeled around him, and flew down the right of the intersection- he summarily followed up and aimed down the left.
They both ran into people at the same time.
Two women, two men- just working their way down the right hall- they all tumbled over each other when the Deathclaw hurled herself at them.
Sanford went wide-eyed- he fired on reaction from what he saw, and from hearing the yelling from both sides of himself- there was a Gunner guy a few feet away- he had a Laser rifle too- Sanford fired once- PMPMPMP -and the poor schmuck's head popped off and flipped in a cartwheel of ringing blood through the air, bounced off the carpet just ahead of the falling body.
"FUCKER!" Another Gunner called, vanished in a doorframe ahead- and Sanford took his cue to get back behind the corner.
"DEATHCLAW! HIDE!" Sanford called over.
She had just run the last one through by the gut- the woman howled as she was compressed to the wall, lifted off her feet from where she had been stuck-through- and the Deathclaw tore her nails free, to watch the body slide down the plaster, and leave a trail.
She sneered- heard Sanford cry out too her- and looked down the hall to the left- straight ahead.
She saw the movement, glanced both ways- saw another doorway on her end, and she vanished inside it- curling in the shade of a small cubicle-like office- a desk shifted on tiled floor as she bumped into it.
Sanford jerked to aim over the corner, and zipped back behind the corner when the Gunner pumped two rounds into the plaster.
"Feng! On me!" Came from deeper down the way.
"HELP ME KILL THIS FUCK!" The Gunner shot back inside the doorframe- Sanford sprayed the arch and ducked back the second he saw the man's gun worm around the bend.
The walls inside the office must have been different from the plaster- the laser energy wasn't piercing.
"FENG! GO-GO!"
Sanford rose, gun raised- was forced back down when carbine fire peppered the hall- he saw a glance of two more people jump doorframes further down the hall- moving closer.
"GET OVER HERE! KILL THIS GUY!"
"FUCK YOU, MEAT!" Sanford called back over. He sprayed the whole hall with the next cluster of shots- caught one of the pair that were switching offices again- he heard a dry heaving, like someone choking on sand- a body rolled on the floor down there.
"I'M GONNA' FUCKIN' KILL YOU!"
Sanford didn't respond, even though his adrenaline boggled mind WANTED him too.
"Han'? Where are you?!" He called into his helm's mic.
"Keepin' these mutha's on the second floor busy! HURRY IT UP, COMMIE-SUCKER!"
"Workin' on it!" Sanford rounded the corner- he aimed from the hip, sprayed the entire hallway, and then lined the iron sights with his helm lenses, concentrated a stream of fire on the doorframe closest.
The man inside screamed as a cauterizing bolt of energy clipped him somewhere- it was so quick that Sanford didn't see the exact point of impact. The flailing man flung himself back inside the little office behind the arch- Sanford stormed ahead, and flew through the frame after him.
"-GGAAAH! GAAAH- FENG! FENG HE'S IN HEEEERRRREEE-!"
Sanford held the trigger for a second and drew a few bolts up the guy's gut to his chest where he was sprawled on the floor- his boots stopped squeaking against the tile, legs and arms stopped thrashing- Sanford now saw a stilled older fellow with long blonde hair, a beard almost bigger than his head draping to collar level- eyes still open, locked to the ceiling.
bm bmBM BM-
-Someone ran up from behind.
Sanford had his rifle on his hip, and the Minuteman cutlass he had acquired was in his grip- he flicked the rune just beneath the hilt- and for the first time, he powered the blade up.
wwhm-WSK! bzzzzzzzzzz...
-The blade made a snapping sound, like a whip, almost- electricity coiled and sung, the metal now glowed a ghostly, and hellish tint of red- like the carbon-based energy of projectile laser weapons.
He stood in the doorway to this room, and he watched another of this second group of people he and the Deathclaw were encountering- the guys in the leather and ragtags -scramble into the arch with a little trench knife in his grip.
The guy was ugly as all fallen sin- he had a thin little strip of hair over his lip that KIND of looked a parody of a mustache- and he had yellow teeth, most of them missing- Sanford saw this because as his opponent stopped in the doorway- his lips had been curled back in a sneer.
The two men looked at each other- this highwaymen had to look UPWARDS slightly, and Sanford downwards.
Obviously, there was a more prepared body here.
The guy jolted- like he had been electrocuted- his lips snapped shut- his eyes got all big and bulgy- the blade fell from his fingers- CLM! CLMCLCMLCMclmclcm... -rattled away on the tile of the office.
"Boo." Sanford grunted, wringing his gauntlet's fingers on the handle of the sword- the armor chose that moment to creak in settle.
The thug spiraled around, and then tumbled BACK inside the office- when he saw that the Deathclaw was hunched over right outside the frame.
"-OH-FUCK-!"
Sanford had a fist clenched over his throat- the blade was hung by his side.
"We plan on taking prisoners, mon ami'?" The Deathclaw asked.
"Didn't count on it. Worked out." Sanford mumbled.
She stepped aside, and Sanford stomped past her back towards the intersection of the hallway- the thug was gagging, and hacking as he stumbled to keep up- his head bowed, legs kicking- his face was turning beat red, and his eyes were triple their regular size.
"What are you doing with it?" She persisted- the thug made a whining noise when he realized it was the MONSTER speaking like that.
"Sit down." Sanford underhand tossed the poor slob onto the bloody carpet of the hall- right before the sprawled body of the guy who had the light machinegun from before.
It wasn't exactly SITTING DOWN, but, when this fellow rolled still on the floor- he sat up on the ground, holding his arm up, mouth flapping without audible speech- Sanford had what he wanted.
"What's your name, creep?"
"F-FENG!" He answered louder than needed. "FENG, NAME'S FENG!"
"You a Gunner?"
"NO! NO! BOSS PAID THEM!"
"...Your boss has to be pretty rich to afford Gunner service," Sanford nodded, impressed. "What's his name?"
"I DON'T KNOW NOTHIN'!"
"Wrong answer."
CLK
-Sanford just slapped him upside the head- and the gauntlet made this rattling shriek against the guy's temple.
"-AGH! -DAMNITMAN!" Feng reeled on his side, holding his head with both hands. "THAT HURT! STOP!"
"Oh Jesus," Sanford growled- he hadn't even put any EFFORT into that. That was a little girl slap. Guy was a bitch. "Boss' name, now."
"THIS AIN'T SOME-SOME- LITTLE THING! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAN'-!" CLK "-OW! STOPIT! STOPITPLEASE!"
"I'll give you one last chance, answer my fucking question and I won't shoot you."
"HARK! HIS NAME'S HARK! LEAVEMEALONE!"
"Why are you and your boys paying Gunner mercs?"
"THEMECHPEOPLEHIREDUS!"
"Repeat that for me?"
"GUYS! MADE! OF! FUCKING METAL AND WIRES, MAN! SAYS THEY'RE FROM AN INSITITUTE! IT'S MESSED UP MAN! IT'S MESSED UP-!"
CLK!
-Sanford got angry, he took the butt of his rifle and slammed it into Feng's ugly head, and then the thug tumbled over like a sack of potatoes on the carpet- he was still, eyes shut, mouth half opened, drooling.
Looking down at the unconcious one with a sneer of distaste- the Deathclaw watched Sanford step over the bodies and start to move for the hall ahead- the one that branched right.
"I didn't understand a thing he said, if that's consolation." She stated. "Did you kill him?"
"He said the Institute hired them." Sanford said. "There's something going on here. Coincidence that it's the Museum of Science? I don't think so."
"Thus... We... Do what?"
"Find this- 'Hark' -fellow."
"Where?"
"Follow the soldiers," Sanford gestured for the corpses everywhere. "Find the leader."
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