Arturo slid down the wall practically falling out of the window. His breathing was heavy and he could barely keep himself standing. His armor felt heavier then it had before weighing him down as he lay against the side of the building.

His breathing stopped for a moment as he heard a nearby door swing open. Pressing himself against the door he looked over in silence still holding his breath.

It was a suit of military grade power armor and over his shoulder the body of one of Arturo's own. For a moment he looked down towards his pistol racking back the slide to chamber a round. He looked on with a rage and disgust in his heart as the body of his friend was sumarily dumped onto the ground outside of the water treatment plant.

He looked at that glistening metal armor with a grimace leveling his pistol at the back of the soldiers head. A pain surged through his arm causing him to lower the pistol back down to his side. He winced in pain as he grabbed onto his arm stifling his urge to whimper out in pain.

The soldiers had done one hell of a number on him and even with the relatively basic medical attention he wasn't held together very well. He crouched down low and made his way over to the nearby car. More power armor clad soldiers were coming out by the minute just throwing the corpses into a big pile in the parking lot.

A mournful expression crossed his face as he locked eyes with the lifeless husk of his brother. 'This whole thing is fucked." He whispered to himself in Spanish ducking low against the door of the tank truck.

His grip against his arm was firm eyes closed shut for a moment while he collected himself. The wind had been well and truly knocked out of him and now it looked like he was the only one to have survived this little skirmish.

Down the street Arturo could see an olive drab APC coming closer. He fell to the ground and slid beneath the truck lowering himself into the shadows. To one side he saw the corpses of the fallen and to the other yet more soldiers unloading out from the APC to reinforce the position.

He weighed his options in the shadow of the tank truck covering his own mouth with his hand to quiet his slow and steady breathing. If he was lucky he might be able to make it to his brothers souped up Corvega, it was setting at the far end of the parking lot and still held the keys tucked away in the sun visor.

The problem was getting to it, and getting it driving before he was pumped full of lead. For all his brags and boasts leading up to this little raid he felt almost naked with his .32 revolver. "It was just supposed to be a few eggheads" He whispered crunching his eyes hard together as pain surged through his body. He was sweating rather badly, and the sweat mixed with the dirt causing it to cling firm to his skin.

He watched in silence as more troops headed into the building, he couldn't exactly do much else. Then one of the bodies started to move. A low groan echoed out from Russel, somehow he'd managed to survive the whole ordeal at least barely.

The man was in worse shape in Arturo and it showed even from this distance, but it felt almost nice to know someone else had survived this little suicide run. "Soon as I get help we're coming back for you." He muttered shifting beneath the truck as he crawl his way further through the dirt.

One of the armored troopers walked over to Russel. Instead of checking on him, or helping him up to take the man into custody the power armored soldier pulled out a service pistol from his hip. A boot went down onto the mans arm crushing it with a loud echoing snap.

Russel screamed out in pain grabbing for his arm his voice echoing through the parking lot. Arturo's face went white as a sheet his mouth hung open as he looked over. He wanted to do something, anything but these men were better equipped and trained in every way.

All he could do was watch in silence.

The power armor clad figure leveled his pistol right between Russel's eyes and with a single depression of the trigger the screaming stopped. A brief splattering of blood and a surge of motion from the body before it went limp oozing out onto the pile.

"Damn commie pinko fucks just don't know when to die." The soldier spoke out holstering his pistol back at his hip as a floated its way on by. He laughed to himself his voice modulated by the speaker systems of the suit.

Arturo's fist clenched hard on the handle of his pistol so hard that for a moment he thought the POS might snap in two. Luckily for him it held firm.

"Don't think you can count that one on your kill sheet." One of the other soldiers spoke up standing beside the tanker truck.

Arturo stopped right where he was and held his breath. He had learned in that instant exactly what would happen to him were he caught.

"Come on man, a dead commies a dead commie." The power armor clad figure turned to his side holding his arms out to either side. "I think it counts."

"Might as well count shooting the bodies in that case." A cigarette butt dropped to the ground, the soldier lifted up his boot just enough to grind it into the dirt, as he chuckled to himself "Doesn't make up for me carrying your ass through that firefight."

Arturo looked at the back of those boots for a long moment contemplating his situation. He slowly reached for the pen knife in his pocket maneuvering in the cramped space beneath the truck. He let his pistol rest on the ground and brought back his hand readying to strike at the mans ankles sending him to the ground.

"Hey get a look at this"

The soldier walked away from the tanker truck holding his arms out to his friend in the power armor.

"Guy had enough psycho on him to open a chem store." He chuckled kicking the body once for good measure before starting to pocket the needles of psycho. "Help me snag these before the sergeant catches wind, we might be able to sell em off to the locals."

Arturo took back his revolver in hand, stowing the pen knife back into his pocket. He slowly made his way out from beneath the truck and into the shadow of a nearby parked Corvega. Still he pressed himself firmly against the metal of the door. He was close now, so very close.

He pressed himself tighter still against the door as a soldier made his way past calling over to the other two men. "The hell are you idiots doing?" He shook his head lowering his rifle against his shoulder. The soldier stood within breathing distance of Arturo just barely avoiding bumping right into the young man. "Snag chems on your own dime, uncle sam aint paying you to get high."

Arturo let out a low sigh, dropping himself into a full on crouch. He made his way from one car to the next. Each one had belonged to a friend. He ran his hand across the custom decals plastered across the door of each vehicle Highwaymen, Corvegas, Coups, and sedans all kitted out with the custom logo of the Mambas a pitch black snake mid strike against the viewer.

Fifteen of them had gone in with heads full of dreams looking to make it big in the post nuclear world, and now the only one left was Arturo running away with his head between his legs. He felt sick to his stomach about the whole thing. He'd watched those boys grow up, helped em out for years, and in one day they were all gone. He couldn't help but feel responsible.

The soldiers chatted and laughed like this was just another day at the office. Arturo narrowed his eyes in disgust his face contorting into a snarl. Would that he could gun them all down right here and now see them bleed out on the asphalt. A hatred began to fester in his heart growing stronger by the moment.

He waited for several moments in silence allowing a Robobrain to pass by on its tank like treads. They were pulling out all the stops to secure this place, that much at the very least was crystal clear.

When it finally passed he made a break for it practically diving into the drivers seat of his brothers car. Beer cans clattered about at his feet his sudden entrance kicking up a layer of cigarette ash into the air that came up in a plume of smoke.

He dropped down the sun visor dropping a set of keys into his hand. On the chain was a simple locket. He paused running his hand across its surface. His expression turned from rage to sadness as he rubbed his thumb across the engraving before popping it open. Inside was a picture. It was a picture of the three of them. The two brothers and their mother.

It was an old picture from happier times, the two boys were dressed in their Sunday best, and were all smiles. The photo was low quality, black and white and partially blurred. The photographer was a barber by trade and a photographer by passion and it really showed in the composition.

He ran his finger across the image one last time before coming back to reality. There was a soldier walking his way. He leveled his rifle.

Arturo slammed the key into the ignition and the car roared to life. He ducked his head down in time for the bullets to start flying shattering the windshield in a matter of moments. He heard the thump as he slammed directly into the soldier causing him to tumble up and over the car falling hard back down behind the sleek vehicle.

He kept his foot on the gas accelerating even in the face of the hail of gunfire which ripped through the car. A bullet slammed into his arm splattering blood across the tan upholstery and causing Arturo to cry out swerving the vehicle drastically to one side.

Tires squealed out as he struggled to get control of the vehicle once more now looking to the road. He cursed loudly out into the air dropping his revolver onto the passengers seat to grab hold of his arm and try to stop the bleeding.

The car swerved from one side of the road to the other knocking Arturo about violently and painting the door with his blood in the process. The vehicle had been shot up bad but it was still running, and its driver was still alive. The wind pelted his face as he drove the windshield completely shattered covering the dashboard in glass.

Arturo pulled off his bandanna ripping it from his head. He wrapped it around his arm several times before tying it off into place to keep pressure applied on the wound. This whole adventure had left him battered bruised and on deaths doorstep.

He flicked on the radio, and began changing stations. One band of static swapped to the next until he managed to find one station still broadcasting music. Johnny Cash, I walk the line. Arturo let his head rest against the back of his seat using one hand to drive the other running down his face as he looked towards the road.

He was struggling to keep conscious, muttering his way along with the song as he bobbed his head from one side to the other.

The driving carried on for a long while, the roads slowly turning more bumpy the buildings more dilapidated. The bombing had been hardest on the outskirts of the city, many of them were reduced to little more then piles of debris.

Arturo leaned across the seat to the glove compartment and pulled it open. He started digging inside of it looking for something. "Where is it." He spoke to himself digging all the way to the back.

A thump rocked the car as he slammed into something, or rather someone. They rolled right over-top the car before slamming down into the ground back behind him with a heavy thud.

Arturo lifted his head looking back into his rear view mirror and saw massive men running out into the road to check on a figure laying down on the ground, likely the man he'd just hit.

"Better you than me." He spoke to his mirror watching as the figures grew smaller, a rapid hit and run in the ruined part of the city.

He lean back over the seat once more digging back into the glove box. Eventually he pulled out a simple enough looking unlabeled syringe. He pulled off the cap tossing it onto the seat beside him, and plunged it into his arm.

He let out a sigh of ecstasy as the liquid coursed its way through his veins tearing away the burning sensation in his arm and the pain that had still been washing over his body all this time. A smile crossed his face as he rounded the corner slowing down to an eventual stop.

He had stopped at the base of one of the few buildings left standing in this part of town. Once upon a time it had been a factory, owned by a small time local company that manufactured fruit drinks. All across the building were massive stone figureheads musclebound caricatures of man's peak. It was an all black building that was imposing in nature.

The locals had made it their own covering it from wall to wall in graffiti. Images of snakes, gang tags and more works of art by dozens of different local artists on full display for anyone and everyone to see.

It was home sweet home and Arturo was more then glad to be back. This was the only place he ever felt comfortable since he'd lost his mother to cancer about six years back.

Even if he was returning with bad news the drugs helped to take some of the edge off made him feel like his old self as he stepped out of the car slamming the door shut behind himself.

He made his way up the cracked and warped walkway to the front door walking like he owned the place. He shoved that revolver of his right back into his waste band looking up to the bronze face over the front doors.

He threw the doors open and made his way into the building proper. A voice spoke up as one of the Mamba's came over to check out the noise.

"Arturo what the hell you doing back so soon." He was a shorter man with his head shaved bald and held a handmade rifle against his shoulder. Sometimes when you were in a gang you used whatever you could get your hands on even if you made it yourself at the local hardware store. "You aint turned chicken on us have you."

"Mission was a flop." Arturo walked on past into the main room. Men sat around shooting up drugs and loading magazines with rounds. A thick layer of smoke hung about the room the stench of narcotics permeating everything. "Military came in and slaughtered everyone."

"The hell you mean everyone." Another voice chimed in from an overweight man, weighing in at about 350 lbs who was hunched over a reloading bench with a hamburger in one hand and a half loaded magazine in the other.

"I mean EVERYONE, Skids, Rufus, Django, Russle everyone, the whole damn team." Arturo ripped a bottle off the nearby table and popped the cap off with one of his remaining teeth. He was missing a fair few from his earlier encounter.

He made his way to the bench and grabbed a chair for himself setting down hard.

"No way we're letting this slide man." The overweight man spoke setting down his burger next to the bottle of nuka cola. "We gotta strike back, and hard."

"They got power armor." Arturo kicked back the contents of the bottle before leaning back hard against his chair. "And I feel like shit."

"You look like shit too." A third voice called out as a woman stepped out from one of the side rooms. She was holding a doctors bag in her hand and had a stride that showed power and control.

"Aint in the mood Lucy" He took another swig. "Just lost a lotta damn good men."

"Oh come on I'm just trying to lighten the mood Art" She sat the bag down onto the counter with a clatter the contents shaking about from the force. She knelt down beside him and got to work patching him up.

For Lucy's credit her brand of patching up involved a lot of chems from her bag of tricks. She jabbed one needle after another into him before pulling out a pair of tweezers to yank the bullet out of his arm. The conditions were far from sanitary but they were what someone could expect in these trying times.

"So that's it, we just roll over and play dead." The overweight man stood up his chair creaking under his weight. "The end, goodnight sweet prince."

"I never fucking said that Raph." Art was pissed, even with the pharmacy cabinets worth of drugs pumping through his veins at the moment. He leaned back letting the good doctor do her work, closing his eyes. "Mamba's don't play dead for anyone."

His arm tenses up as Lucy came in to remove the bullet. He couldn't feel much of anything but he still knew it should hurt. Though he relaxed somewhat as she dug in and the chems took their toll on him.

Raphael looked down to the drugged out Arturo and swiped back up his burger. He took a bite from it. "Yeah they might have us down, but we aint out till we say we're out." He spoke with confidence, and washed it down with a healthy dose of nuka cola.. "Mamba's don't play dead for no one."

"So if we aren't rolling over how exactly do we plan on taking on power armor." The rifle toting ganger asked walking past a group of other gangers already out of their mind on various chems. "We're not exactly equipped with anti armor" He tapped the rifle against his head.

"I got a plan." Art leaned his head back further looking away from the blood as Lucy worked her magic. He took in a sharp breath of air feeling the chems a flowing. "Everyone needs supplies." He paused snagging a joint from the table and taking his time for a quick toke. "With the phones down we just keep our ears on the radio and wait for them to decide to transfer about some weapons"

"Then we just hit the convoy" Lucy commented pulling the string tight as she worked about stitching up his wounds. "Kill the guards and grab ourselves some new hardware."

Raph chimed in. "Then we take that hardware and take back the plant." He took another swig of his nuka cola nodding his head in agreement. "I like it, I really do." He tossed the empty bottle into the trash bin which was already filled to the brim with bottles syringes and more.

"About time we had ourselves an upgrade." The rifle toting ganger chimed in. "I'll get to work building the explosives for the raid." He walked over towards one of the side rooms stepping over a passed out mamba. "We hide em along the route and we should be able to blow their convoy sky high."

"I'll start asking around some contacts and see if we can't get a route for their next convoy." Raph spoke taking one last bite from his burger finishing it off with confidence. "Little bit of incentive should get us everything we need."

"And I guess I'll just have to mix up a special batch of chems for the op" Lucy finished stitching the wound tying it off at the end with a bit of a smile taking time to admire her handy work. "With the right mix we should have fearless fighters ready to take it on."

"We are gonna take down every last one of those SOB's" Art took another toke before passing the jazz cigarette over to Lucy. "For every one of ours I think it's only right we kill six of those Army fucks."

"So gumby I guess this means you're just taking over." She ran her fingers down his arm taking a toke for herself. She gave a bit of a smirk before blowing smoke in his direction.

"My brother lead our gang for six years unquestioned, expanded this gang out to twice its initial size." Arturo shifted on the chair to look at her incredulously

"Come on pequeñuelo we both know you're not Marco, not by a long shot." She put extra emphasis on the word long resting her hand on his forearm. "He was king sized and everyone knew it." Her smile grow as she spoke those deriding words.

"If I wanted I could have you killed for talking like that." Art locked eyes with her his face turned to a grimace in spite of the chems.

"Aww that's sweet, but I'm the only one who knows how to make our special chems" She leaned in closer whispering in his ears. "And I'm not sharing" A light kiss on the top of his ear. "Face it I've got more power in this little group of misfits then you ever will."

Arturo gave her a sidelong glance his eyes half closed. She may have been right but that didn't mean he had to like it, in fact he absolutely hated it.

"Marco had my vouch because he was good in the sack, and knew how to appease a lady." She backed away from him leaning back in her chair as she began to collect chems from the table back into her doctors bag. "You're going to need to get more... creative... if you want to be in charge for more then a few days"

"I don't like being threatened Lucy." He lowered his hand slowly towards his back resting it on top of his revolver, but found a second hand placed on top of his own belonging to Lucy.

"It's not a threat, it's the facts of life." She pulled his and away from the pistol and sat it back down to his side. "Behind every powerful man is an even more powerful woman, and you'll do well to keep in mind who really owns this gang." She leaned in close again.

"Spoiler alert, it's me." Her words were cold and cruel a glint shining in her cool blue eye. She gripped firm onto Arts arm sending a shooting feeling of pain through him that caused him to buckle slightly to the side. "And if I'm not happy, you're not happy."

She dug more firmly into his arm sending more waves of pain through his system applying further pressure at key pressure points that made him tighten his eyes shut as hard as they would go.

"Remember you're just as expendable as he was, and you'll do wonders." She let go backing off of him and allowing the man a moments respite from the shooting pain all through his system.

Art took in heavy labored breaths laying his head back against the rest of the chair.

Lucy collected her things into her doctors bag, the last of her tools of the trade and made her way from the room swaying her hips from one side to the other seductively. She was in control of every motion and walked with an undeniably unshaken confidence.

Art slowed his breathing opening his eyes. He watched her with a fire in his eyes the lust for revenge expanding ever further. Something in the back of his mind snapped. Maybe it was the head trauma, maybe it was loosing his brother but something fundamental inside of him broke in that moment, and there was no patching it back together.