Abercrombie stood in the door of the safe house, Corporal Hart behind him, and watched his men lounging around, playing cards and just generally causing mischief. There were several open bottles of liquor, including a few empty ones, and Hannibal in particular looked drunk, dancing as he cooked on the squad's homemade barbeque; a flamer jury rigged with a metal plate. It wasn't much, but it got the job done.
The safe house itself wasn't much either. A bunker they had made themselves, shoddily, it's walls were made from whatever scrap metal they could dig up at the time. Some of the hallways weren't straight, narrowing or widening at random intervals, and they only had 4 rooms; the main common room they were in now which contained, two bunk rooms, each with toilets, and a small room in the back with a bunch of chairs they used as their briefing room. Strangely, now that Abercrombie was back, he felt more at home here than he did in the Stand.
Leon, Mike, Grim and Charity were playing cards and, as he laughed at some joke, Leon's pure white eyes strayed towards the door. He was smoking a cigar and almost lost it as his jaw dropped, then he snapped to his feet.
"Captain on deck!" he shouted, breaking in to a crisp salute. The others immediately stopped what they were doing and gave their own salutes. Even Hannibal had stopped moving, although he was saluting with the spatula he was holding.
Abercrombie returned it. "At ease" he said and everyone settled back in to what they had been doing. Leon put down his cards and strode over to him.
"Good to see you chief" he said, chewing on his cigar a little, "Almost got worried you weren't coming back for a while there." Then he looked over the others. "Sorry about this...I didn't expect you for a few days..."
Abercrombie clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a small nod. "It's fine Leon. They deserve this and more"
Leon nodded back. "What took you so long anyway? And who..." he leaned to the right a little, looking around Abercrombie and glancing up and down Hart, "...is this?"
"This...soldier" said Abercrombie, struggling to get that last word out, "is Corporal William Hart, our new medical officer"
"Ah, well, it's nice to have you aboard" said Leon, offering his hand. Hart took it, reluctantly, and made a face like he was now infected with a virus or disease. Leon gave him a quizzical look, but turned back to Abercrombie.
"We've got new orders" said Abercrombie. Leon smiled.
"No more Deathclaws?" he asked hopefully.
"No more Deathclaws" echoed Abercrombie, "Now get the men together, I don't like repeating myself"
"Yes, sir!" he said happily, snapping to a crisp salute. He then moved away, talking to the men, pointing them towards the small briefing room at the back. A few grumbles as Mike cheerfully pocketed his winnings from cards, but they all made their way towards the back.
"He doesn't have to say sir" muttered Hart. Abercrombie rounded on him and the younger man took a half step back.
"That's because he earned it" whispered Abercrombie coldly, "now fall in."
Hart shot him a glare, but slowly picked up his bag and moved towards the briefing room. Abercrombie let out a deep breath, trying to push the anger out of his system. He didn't know exactly what it was that angered him so much about that boy. Abercrombie knew himself all too well; he knew he demanded respect and preferred to follow the rules. But Hart had a point, why exactly didn't he feel the same with his men? The risks were the same, that breaking rules could lead to death, but still, for some reason, he didn't feel anything when his men blatantly ignored them. He even had to admit to himself that he had encouraged it from time to time.
Does that make me a hypocrite, he thought suddenly?
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of these thoughts. There was no time for them now, not when his men were waiting for him.
The briefing room was much like the rest of the small complex; walls made of mismatched metal, rust forming around the corners and edges ceiling, a few solitary lights providing barely enough light to see. On one side sat a board, writing implements sitting in the small shelf beneath it, and the rest of the room was dominated by desks and chairs, somewhat evenly spaced apart, now filled with his men.
Abercrombie knew them all well, likely better then they knew themselves. Leon Graves, his second, was sitting in the middle, his strange eyes focused on his captain. Grimlock and Julio Raimond were on Leon's right, sitting next to each other as usual. They looked like the brothers they were, although not in the way most would think. Grim was more robot than man at this point and Julio himself had a robotic mouthpiece that he needed to breathe safely.
Beaumont Hooper was sitting behind them, stoic and silent. Charity Innes was on Beau's left, the blonde woman looking disinterested as usual. But then, she had always been the toughest to read. To her left was Hannibal, sprawled out and the most casual looking of the group. Mike Pullen was further along, the veteran still counting the money he had won from cards. Next to him sat Hollow, the tribal scout Abercrombie had inducted in to his unit despite some grumblings from the Council.
And behind them all, tucked away in a darkened corner, sat Corporal William Hart, scowl still etched on his face, although he was at least looking at Abercrombie this time.
He cleared his throat, loudly, and all eyes turned towards him. "As you can all guess by us being in the briefing..." he looked around at the mismatched walls, the rust along most of the seams, the slow drip of water seeping through some unseen crack, "room, we have new orders"
"So no more Deathclaws, sir?" asked Hannibal with a smile.
"No more Deathclaws" repeated Abercrombie. The relieved sighs hit him like a wave. "Stow that" he snapped, looking them all over with an icy glare, "We are soldiers of the Enclave, our orders are the word of God himself, our meals are feasts, our pay checks fortunes. We are the best...and we don't think otherwise, understand?"
"Yes chief!" said Hannibal with a grin, snapping in to a stiff salute. The others were all nodding their agreement. Abercrombie nodded at Hannibal and the slight man relaxed again.
"We're going to the Mojave on a standard retrieval mission"
"Who's our target?" asked Julio, his voice sounding more robotic through his mouthpiece than Grim's ever did.
"I'm sure you've all heard of him..." Abercrombie said, looking them all over, "he's gone by many names over the years, but we know him best as...the Regenerating Man"
Every man and woman in the room felt their jaw hit the ground at the same time. Mike stopped counting his winnings, Charity leaned forward, Hannibal straightened up, even Hart managed to drop his scowl for a few minutes to show his surprise and disbelief.
"Erik...you can't be serious?" started Mike, "it's just a story they tell to keep morale up"
"Two days ago I said the very same thing" said Abercrombie, "but these orders come from the Council themselves. This is real"
Charity raised her hand. Abercrombie nodded at her to speak. "Do we even know what he looks like?" she asked.
"Surprisingly...yes" he answered, reaching into his coat and pulling out the folded mission report the General had given him. "The Enclave has done extensive recon on this man and, though they don't know his current alias, they do have several photographs." He opened the file, took out the photographs and handed them to Leon, who began passing them back so everyone got a look.
"Is he alone, sir?" Grim asked in his deep voice, still looking through the several photos he had been passed.
"Reports suggest he is with several companions and they are currently making their way in to southern Idaho."
"So why don't we just go to Idaho, sir?" asked Leon. Everyone seemed interested in this question.
"We have secondary objectives..." Abercrombie started, opening the file again and flicking through to the relevant section, "his group is currently heading towards what is rumoured to be a cache of Pre-War technology. This technology interests the Council greatly, so we'll be dropped in the Mojave behind our target, follow him to his destination and then take him and the equipment back to the Stand. Any other questions?"
Abercrombie looked around the room but nobody moved to speak, most still studying the various photographs of the Regenerating Man. It almost made him smile. They were of poor quality, typically out of focus or directed at something else and merely catching the man in the background by pure chance. Still, he had studied them almost as hard as his unit was now; it wasn't every day that you were given the chance to alter history itself.
"Right, pack your things and fall out. We leave in a half hour" he said crisply, turning and striding towards the door but stopping just before it, "I trust all of those photos will be returned?"
They nodded, smiled, blinked, whatever it was that each of them did to show their agreement. Abercrombie didn't believe them, but he didn't care. After years of winning battles but losing the wars he was willing to give them this one small thing, this one glimmer of hope that they could hold on to. He owed them that much, at least.
The vertibird landed gently in the small clearing, it's landing gear dipping slightly as they took the full weight of the vehicle, sparse patches of grass flattened by the rotor blades. Abercrombie was the first out. The sun was beginning to set behind them but there was still enough light to see. He swept the area with his plasma rifle then motioned for the rest came out.
His team knew what to do, having entered and exited vertibirds in dangerous locations hundreds of times. Grim, his 7 foot figure silhouetted against the cabin lights of the vertibird behind him, took up position just to the left of the rear ramp they were all piling out from. His minigun, held effortlessly in his cybernetic arms, scanned the surroundings.
Leon came out next, jumping to the right and doing the same as Grim, his white eyes scanning the surroundings. The rest followed, forming a rough circle about 10 metres in diameter, all carefully watching the small, flat area for any signs of movement.
Only Hart looked out of place, half striding, half stumbling out the back of the vertibird, looking around like he was waiting for someone to tell him what to do. Abercrombie pulled him down roughly, thanking the gods for the boy that there wasn't any enemies around. He had seen too many men die from stupidity like that in the Floridian and it wasn't ever something he wanted to see again.
Of course, they all knew there was nothing alive around them. Abercrombie wasn't stupid and had made sure Eagle swept the area with the vertibirds thermal cameras, which came up negative. But still, Abercrombie wasn't stupid, and even in a desert like the Mojave there was plenty of dangerous people and creatures in the wastes that could conceal their heat signatures, so he had his men perform the standard unloading procedure as if they were loading out in enemy territory.
"LZ is clear" he said in to his helmet, "Eagle is cleared, see you at the rendezvous point"
"Wilco leader" came Eagle's crackled voice over the helmet communications, "heading to rendezvous point alpha. Good hunting"
The vertibird's engines whirred to life, lifting the bulbous vehicle off the ground. Abercrombie gave a small wave and the cockpit dipped slightly in a nodding motion. It turned slightly, then its rotors turned forwards and it crept away in to the horizon, heading north.
"Alright" he barked, turning to his men, "you know the drill. Hollow," he turned to look at the tribal, his braided hair falling neatly past his face and down the front of his armour, "you're on point. Find the trail and quickly, we're losing daylight as it is and I want to get this started today. Mike is on rearguard. Everyone else, spread out and stay sharp."
His men were veterans and quickly adopted a spread out formation, Hollow in front, Mike in back, Grim towering over everyone in the middle. The only one that looked out of place, again, was Hart.
"You" said Abercrombie, pointing at him, "don't leave my side." He had tried to say it nicely, or as nice as he could, but it still came out sounding like a cross between a grunt and a bark. He shook his head, angry at himself, but didn't bother to see Hart's response. He had a feeling he knew exactly what it would be.
Hart glared at Abercrombie's back as the bastard turned to head off with the rest of his men. He hated this assignment more than he hated his usual assignments. At least then he could just laze around until he got transferred again. He doubted that was an option this time.
"Is it always so hard?" he sighed to himself. A hand clapped him on the shoulder, making him jump. He turned, annoyed, to see who it was and came face to face with the white eyes of Abercrombie's second, Leon.
"Cheer up" the man said with a grin, "he's hard on everyone the first few weeks"
"No he's not" grunted a voice behind the pair and the blonde woman moved past them, shouldering her way past Hart without bothering to look at him. She wasn't stunningly attractive, with a fringe covering one of her eyes, short cut hair and a rough looking face, but she was the only woman around. Hart decided to file her under 'maybe'.
"Now, now, play nice children" came another voice, slightly amused, deep and rumbling like thunder. Hart turned to look and had to crane his neck to meet the eyes of the giant machine-man. Hart knew who he was, of course. Everyone in the Stand did. Long Haul Grimlock, legendary figure of the Enclave, hero of the Floridian, saviour of his people time and time again. Mutated, half-human freak if you asked Hart. Or anyone at the Stand these days, really. Proves fame is fleeting, no matter what you're famous for, thought Hart.
"You heard Grim," Leon said, "Charity...apologize" he finished, like he was ordering an animal around.
"Go to hell" she answered irritably.
"Sit, roll over" said a skinnier man ahead of her, the smallest of the group and the only one, apart from Abercrombie, in combat armour. He had a grin across his face as he turned back to look at her.
"Keep your eyes on yourself you crazy bastard" she snapped.
He cocked his head a little to the side, his grin turning in to more of a wry smile. "You know," he said ruefully, "One of these days you're really going to have to stop flirting with me. It's...unprofessional"
She snorted and walked faster, the slight man's laughter seemingly spurring her on. Leon clucked his tongue.
"Now look what you've done Hannibal"
"What?" Hannibal asked innocently.
"What did I just say?" growled Grim.
"To be fair, big man," started Hannibal, "I'm clearly insane"
"That's a fact" grumbled Grim.
"Knock it off!" barked Abercrombie from further up. Hart saw him, striding just a few metres behind that damn tribal. How in the hell he ever got a commission in the Enclave Hart would never know, filthy unclean mutant that he was. "And where the hell is Hart?"
"Back here, sir" shouted Leon, "just introducing him around" He gripped Hart's shoulders and began pushing him forward. "Best you get up there before he gets truly pissed" he whispered.
Hart didn't much care what Abercrombie thought but he didn't feel like dealing with more of the old man's anger, so he quickened his pace until he was next to Abercrombie.
The tribal had his head down, staring at the ground, when he suddenly stopped and raised his fist. A few of the others copied the sign and the entire group stopped. The tribal knelt down and everyone followed him again, taking a knee and keeping their eyes on their surroundings, weapons at the ready. Abercrombie carefully made his way up to the tribal.
"What is it Hollow?" he asked.
"Found trail" the tribal said absently, his thick accent proving English wasn't his first language, his mind still pre-occupied on the ground. "3...maybe 4 days old"
Hart heard Abercrombie curse. "I hoped we'd be closer..." the captain muttered. The tribal merely shrugged.
Abercrombie looked around, at his men, crouched and ready for anything, at the rapidly darkening surroundings, the mountains that rose up around them nothing more than silhouettes with the sun now setting behind them.
"How much further can we go tonight?" he asked Hollow. The tribal looked around at the ground and the darkening sky.
"Not far" he finally said, "safely" he added. Abercrombie sighed. He knew the man was right.
"Alright, find us a place to camp" he ordered, "we'll pick this up in the morning..."
Farilla rolled to her side, feeling content for the first time in as long as she could remember. So content that it brought a smile to her face, a grin even. That made her frown. Grinning like an idiot was hardly what a proper lady like her would do, should do. But as the man beside her groaned slightly in his sleep, she couldn't help the smile from returning.
Steven. He said his name was Steven. Why oh why this mousy man made her feel better than any of the other hunks did she didn't know; and, honestly, didn't want to know. But the fact remained; he was the best she had had for quite a while.
A buzzing came from the bedside table and he stirred, tiredly rubbing at his eyes as she turned the alarm off.
"Sleep well?" he asked with a sheepish grin, like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar by the exact person he was hoping for.
She nodded with that same smile from before, which she knew from experience would be taking his breath away. "I think it's time for you to leave though" she said kindly. Kinder then she usually did, she realised.
He looked downcast for a moment, only a moment, but it still stopped her heart for what felt like a minute and sank her stomach down to her feet. Then he half smiled and all her bad feelings went away. "You don't want your husband to find out...I understand" he said, swinging his legs from the bed. He grabbed his pants off the floor and tugged them on before standing and doing the button up. He grabbed his shirt and made to leave.
"When will I see you again?" she squeaked suddenly, her voice high pitched and girlish. She hated herself for it, this show of weakness, of emotion, but as much as she wanted to scowl and shake her head all she could do was look at him expectantly.
"Uh...soon" he answered hesitantly, "I'll meet you in the market on Saturday?" he offered.
She nodded. "It's a date" she joked lamely. He laughed a little, probably due to courtesy and nothing else, but it still made her feel validated for some reason.
He strode to the door, stuck his head out to check no one was watching, then looked back at her. He put his open palm up to his face and blew her a kiss, disappearing behind the door barely after it had left his lips.
She still caught it lamely though, one hand outstretched like she might drop the invisible sign of love. That made her angrier than everything else that had happened and she tossed that kiss on the floor, which only made her angrier as she realised she was throwing something invisible and unreal.
What the hell is happening to me, she thought?
She knew one thing, at least. She wasn't as interested in finding out as she was when she met him.