Colt opened the Humvee's door and fell to the ground, just barely missing a hail of laser bolts as they melted through what was left of the windshield and landed exactly where he was sitting. In a daze, he looked around at the mayhem that was unfolding, bewildered at what was going on. The patrol was exactly where they needed to be, but, apparently, they were suffering from an ambush by an unknown enemy.
His Humvee had veered off the road and crashed into a lamppost, where it was now resting, the light steel armor of the Humvee's chassis mangled around the post with bits of the armor plating jutting out in awkward directions. Fortunately, the gunner and .50 caliber were still active and he was now firing the enormous shells wildly at the ridge where the red laser and green plasma bolts were coming from.
The lead Humvee was still on the road… just not operational. It was lying in the middle of the interstate, the entire thing destroyed and blackened with the doors blown off into the brush. The seatbelts were the only things that kept the crisp corpses of the vehicle's occupants from falling to the ground and disintegrating into a fine black dust. Colt looked away from the gruesome sight and towards everything else.
The third, rear Humvee was parked in a defensive position behind Colt's designated vehicle. It's chassis scorched from severe laser burns and chunks missing from the rare plasma bolt that would strike and melt away the metal. The gunner of that Humvee was firing wildly at the same ridge as the other surviving the gunner.
Colt turned to the men and woman from the patrol who were alive; they had taken up defensive positions behind the two remaining Humvees, firing potshots at the hostile ridge. Veronica was the only one not firing, because of the lack of a ranged weapon, and she had her back to Humvee and her hands over head, protecting herself from fragments of metal blown off of the Humvee by the many laser bolts hailing down on their position.
Colt, regaining his composure, remembered the driver, Sergeant Major Yolanda, who was still sitting in the front seat of the vehicle. He climbed up and into the open door of the front passenger side, making sure to stay beneath the dashboard, and tried to pull Yolanda out so that the medic could treat her wounds. Grabbing her arm, he began to slowly pull her body out of the seat until she fell, limply, across the seats. She wasn't breathing… dead from a laser bolt that struck her face and seared it to a fine, blacken crisp that began to flake, revealing patches of bright red flesh. Colt jumped back, disgusted by the sight and almost vomited. Flashes of what he found at his home sprung into his mind and he backed away from Yolanda's burned corpse in terror. Veronica noticed Colt, who was lying on the ground and holding his hand to his mouth, trying not regurgitate.
Veronica crawled to him, staying low as laser bolts continued to fly above her head, "Are you alright?"
Colt just looked at her, still bewildered, "What the fuck is going on?"
"We've been ambushed!" She answered, ducking as another volley of laser bolts flew overhead and landed a few yards away.
"By who?"
"I don't fucking know!"
Colt just looked around, still confused and dumbfounded. Finally, the information he learned on the military holotapes kicked in; he needed to assess the situation. He stood himself up on all fours and crawled to the passenger side door, crouching behind the vehicle. Veronica did the same as she too went back to crouching and, all though she didn't show any sign of fear, cowering behind the Humvee. Colt removed his M16 from the floorboards and, using the Humvee as cover, slowly made his way to the front so as to get a better view of the attackers. He drew a long, deep breath and then peeked around the front of the vehicle, only catching a glimpse of the ambushers before a laser bolt struck just a few inches away and made him retreat back to safety.
What he did see in that little five second window he had, was large shadows crouched on top of a raised, cement platform next to the railroad tracks. The shadows occasionally stood, firing volleys of laser and plasma bolts at the men and women they had pinned down.
Colt wanted to know just whom they were dealing with and he turned to Boone, the only one here with a scope powerful enough to see the aggressors. "Hey, Boone!" Colt yelled, trying to get his voice above the discharge of firearms and of the .50 caliber machine guns.
"What?" Boone asked as he peeked out, firing another .308 round from his rifle, and ducked back into cover. He dug out five bullets from the pocket of his bandolier and began to load them into the rifle's receiver
"You have a scope on your rifle! You can see who those guys are, right?"
"Yeah, why?" Boone peeked around the Humvee again, quickly took aim, and fired a shot. One of the ambushers fell from the platform and landed on the ground with a loud, metallic thud that Colt even heard.
"What can you see?"
Boone quickly looked through his scope and examined the shadows in the distance, "I see… power armor! They're using power armor!"
Colt thought for a minute, Power armor? They must be Enclave… or maybe Brotherhood? What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
A blood-curdling scream pierced the air and Colt's train of thought. Above him, the machine gunner stopped firing and was pressing his hands against his face, holding a sick black burn that engulfed the entire right half of his face. He screamed, rocking back and forth, trying to distract himself from the horrible pain. Finally, he was put of his misery by two laser bolt that glided through his chest, causing blood to drain from the soldier's body and run down like a thick, crimson waterfall onto the back seats of the Humvee. The soldier, limply, dropped from the inside of the hole and came to rest in the back of the Humvee, his lifeless body strewn across the seats… he was dead.
Colt just sat there, not knowing what to do next…
First Sergeant Kenderson ran to the Humvee behind Colt and swung open the back door; as if nothing fazed him. He delicately pulled out the gunner's lifeless corpse and laid him on the ground with a gentleness one sees in a father as he lays his son to rest in bed. When his soldier was laid on the ground, Kenderson placed his fingers against the dead man's neck, out of false hope that there was a chance he was still alive. After a few minutes, a dreadful look slipped on his face as he removed his fingers and slammed his fist on the soldier's torso, frustrated that he was gone. Kenderson quickly looked up from the dead man in front of him, turning to the platform and then to the .50 caliber gun, rage filling in his pupils. He clambered up and into position behind the heavy machine gun, wanting revenge for the loss of his man and fired off shot after shot at the aggressors. But, his quest was short lived as two laser bolts came screaming through the air and punctured his shoulder. Kenderson let out a scream of pain as he grasped his injured body part, crimson blood streaming out and over onto his hand and clothes, dyeing them a deep red.
Colt shuddered for a moment as Kenderson called out for help and screamed in agony. Finally, Colt regained his courage.
I'm no use to these soldiers, or Cass, just sitting here and cowering for my own safety. They need me, he thought to himself as he mustered up what was left of his bravery and crawled to the back of the Humvee, where Kenderson laid, his wounds gushing blood.
Colt grabbed Kenderson by the edge of his armor breast plating and began to pull him out of the deathtrap Humvee and onto the ground. Kenderson let out a grunt full of pain as the exit wound hit the ground with force. As the injured man lay on the ground, Colt applied what little medical knowledge he knew to work and put pressure to Kenderson's wound, trying to stall the seemingly endless stream of blood. But, it was no use; the tsunami of crimson liquid just kept pouring out and over Colt's hands, staining the fingerless gloves he was wearing.
"Fuck," Kenderson exclaimed, looking at the wound, "There's no way I'm surviving this… I'm losing too much blood… I'll die of blood loss before I even get to a real doc…"
"No, no, no," Colt protested, putting more pressure on the wound, "All we need to do is patch it up real quickly with some gauss," he turned to the other soldiers, "Medic! Get the medic over here!"
A man, wearing a helmet and armband that displayed a red cross, looked back towards Colt and nodded. He took a step out of cover and began to jog, while crouched so as to avoid incoming fire, towards his injured commander. The medic only managed to get half way to his patient before a laser bolt struck his head, killing him instantly and collapsing to the ground, still and unmoving.
Kenderson turned his head to the down medic and then to Colt, "That fucking sucks," he said, solemnly laughing at the situation, "Hey," Colt turned his head to the dying man before him, "Find out who the fuck caused all of this… fucking kill them for me…" With his final words, Kenderson faded and drew his last breath.
Colt let his head fall… he was in charge now… and he wasn't going to let the rest of the soldiers die. The second thing he learned from the military documents was adapt to the situation at hand and that was what he was going to do. He removed his blood stained gloves, not wanting the crimson blood stuck in the gloves pores to dabble with his mind. Then, he grabbed his assault rifle and ran to the second Humvee, dodging laser bolts as they flew past his head and narrowly missed his feet as they some landed on the ground. He took up position against the front passenger side door.
"Alright," Colt yelled, "Someone explain to me when this all went to shit!"
"Well," a soldier in front of him answered as he hid in cover, "We just broke the crest of the hill and the lead Humvee was struck by a missile! Then the other two Humvees came under intense fire! Sergeant Major Yolanda was hit and your Humvee crashed straight into the lamppost! First Sergeant Kenderson then ordered his Humvee to be parked into a defensive position behind yours! That's it, really!"
"Great, now that that's straightened out, let's adapt to the situation. Boone, how many are they?"
Boone looked through his scope and examined the platform, "I'd say around… twenty!"
Colt's heart raced; there was no way on earth six or seven of them could take on twenty power armored who had an excellent position over the minuscule force below... it was hopeless… no, he had to fight and he had to adapt... he had to find Cass. Colt leaned his M16 assault rifle against the Humvee, steadying the weapon and taking aim at one of the power armored troopers. Letting out slow breath, Colt squeezed the trigger, releasing a three round burst and allowed it fly though the air and reach it's mark, tearing through the power armored soldier's armor and slicing through his helmet, sending up a red mist of blood as the rounds left the other side. The soldier fell backwards as another man stooped beside him. Colt pulled back into cover as a laser bolt nearly missed him.
"Uh," Colt hesitated, thinking of a way for these guys to get out of here safely. That's when it hit him; when in doubt, call for reinforcements, "We need to contact someone and get reinforcements sent here… now! Does anyone have a radio?"
"The Humvees are equipped with radios! Underneath the dashboard and above the gear shifter!" A soldier answered over the fir arm discharge.
Colt looked in the window of the door he was suing for cover; right where the soldier had designated sat a radio with the receiver hanging off the side. He quickly swung open the passenger door to the Humvee and leaned inside, making sure to stay below the dashboard. He pulled the receiver off the hook and began to hail Camp McCarran.
"Camp McCarran, Camp McCarran," Colt said urgently, trying to get help for the people around him, "This Alpha Two of Mechanized Division Patrol Alpha on I-15, over."
A few seconds of dreadful static came through the speaker and, finally, someone answered, "Roger that, Alpha Two; Camp McCarran copies. What's your situation, over?"
"We have been ambushed, I repeat, ambushed. I count twenty power armored suspects on an over watch position, a platform about fifty yards off the ground, raining heavy fire with energy based weapons."
"Roger that. What's the status of the rest of the squads in your patrol, over?"
"First squad's Humvee was destroyed at the beginning of the engagement—shit," Colt ducked as laser bolt passed through the Humvee's windshield and struck just above his head, "Second squad and third squad are mostly intact, although their commanding officers, Sergeant Major Yolanda and First Sergeant Kenderson, are deceased. There are only six or seven of us left; we need reinforcements, over."
There was a long, suspenseful pause before McCarran answered, "Roger that. We're dispatching two patrols to reinforce your units. ETA, ten minutes, over."
"Roger—"
"What the fuck is that?" A soldier yelled, cutting Colt off in mid-sentence.
Colt turned to see what in the world he was talking about; there was a small, metal cylindrical object lying on the ground right in the middle of their defensive line. As soon as Colt caught a glimpse of it, the object erupted into a bright flash and released an extremely loud, ear-splitting bang. Colt fell to the ground, blinded and deafened by the ordinance that Colt thought was a flash bang. All he heard was an extremely loud ringing and all he could see was an intense light with brightness that rivaled the sun's.
He suffered through the dynamic duo for minutes, which seemed like an eternity, until the brightness subsided and the ringing quieted. Colt looked to his left; his assault was only a few inches. He tried to move his arm, so he could grab the rifle and defend himself, but he couldn't move his arm… he couldn't move any part of his body except for his eyes. Whoever the attackers were, they had some access to some high-end technology, 'cause that wasn't just a flash bang; it disabled sight, hearing, and all motor control functions completely.
A dark shadow was cast over his body. He looked up; two men dressed in suits of gray power armor were standing over him and looking down at the defenseless man.
"He's not NCR," one of the men said, his voice muffled by the helmet.
"How do you know?" The man's accomplice questioned, not understanding what the other meant.
"Because, he's too experienced to be anything the NCR put out," he then pointed to the Veronica and Boone, "And he's traveling with those two and they're not with the NCR… especially the girl."
"Is that—"
"Yes, it is," the other answered before his accomplice could even sputter out the question.
"What do you want us to do with them, sir?"
"Get the three and put them and their gear in the operational Humvee; we're… confiscating… that piece of equipment. Then, do what the Elder said to do with the NCR soldiers… but do it when I leave… I don't want to be here for it."
"Yes, sir!" the man saluted and then filed out to fulfill his leader's requests.
The leader bent down and examined Colt, "I've been following you for awhile; you're one tough son-of-a-bitch," he grabbed Colt's chin, moving his head from side to side to check for any injuries, "You also hate the NCR… so, why would you be working for them?" He noticed that was looped around Colt's neck. The man picked up the chain and followed it down to Colt's chest, finally pulling out Cass' pendant from underneath the shirt and vest. He continued to examined it, "Now I understand; you're looking for her, aren't you? Well, I'll tell you right now, the NCR isn't going to help…"
Colt managed to lift his hand up, through much protest and pain from his muscles, and grabbed the pendant from the unknown man. He then began to fade and passed out, the pendant still in his clenched fist.