Chapter 13

Shock and Awe

"The rush of battle is often a potent and lethal addiction, for war is a drug."

-Chris Hedges

Kansas was known before the war for twisters and Oz. Twisters were a constant threat to those trying to live in states like Kansas. The flatter the terrain, the easier it was for a tornado to form.

As a general rule, the Capital Wasteland didn't see many twisters because of the many downed buildings and debris piled high. These skeletons of the pre-war world prevented strong tornadoes from forming when coupled with natural hills.

Kansas had no such protection. It was constantly bombarded by Mother Nature before the war, and now Mother Nature was relentless in her assaults on the poor central states.

As such, Nikolai was understandably pissed off when he was trying to escape a tornado.

It wasn't a huge cyclone, but as a general rule, Nikolai preferred to stay out of wind storms. They were a nightmare to snipers, and the man himself wasn't keen on the thought of being run through by a two hundred year old tire iron. The universe has shown such accuracy when a two ton care package fell on two militiamen in Africa; two men that took the food in the care packages from those that needed it. Both were crushed and killed instantly by perfect aim, courtesy of the universe.

Conversely, twisters have been known to pick up small children, adults, and even cartons of eggs, and later place them down gently in a different location. Egg cartons have been found that were in tornadoes without a single egg broken inside, and men, women, and children have been found unharmed by the windstorms.

Even so, neither Nikolai or his horse were interested in riding a tornado, hence the rapid galloping.

They weren't really trying to outrun the tornado itself. They were trying to run out of the way, but it seemed like the big wind storm took a shine to them. Even the Super Mutants, radscorpions, and deathclaws fled from the massive cyclone in terror. Powerful or not, it was an intimidating sight to behold.

When a hut appeared on the horizon, Nikolai spurred his horse to run towards it. Whether or not innocent civilians or raiders were taking cover in it was irrelevant. Nikolai saw a barn next to the hut, which would suit him just fine. The twister looked like it wouldn't take out the small home directly. It might send debris in the direction of it, but it wouldn't total the place. Not if hundreds of years of abuse by mother nature didn't do so already.

The barn looked sturdy enough to protect both he and his horse from the storm. He rode into the building and quickly slammed the door shut behind him, without a care as to who or what might be there to keep him company.

So he had to credit himself for the swiftness in which he drew his weapon and whirled around to the third heartbeat in the room.

It was a woman, not likely out of her twenties. She had brown hair and bright, vibrant brown eyes (as opposed to Nikolai's bloodshot, borderline insane ones). On her person was no weapon, and sensing no threat, Nikolai holstered his pistol.

"It's never fun to be caught in one of those things. I take it you're a tourist?" she asked kindly. Nikolai did not answer, but instead demanded a name.

"...oh. I'm Betty. Betty Budd."

Nikolai glanced out the window again, preparing to duck if necessary. The silence bothered Betty, and she sought to break the tension.

"What's the name of your horse?" she asked, looking at the frightened beast.

Nikolai ensured the barn would hold up if the twister passed any closer, and looked at the animal.

"It has no name."

These words, as they left his lips, were emotionless. It wasn't that Nikolai didn't have time to name the horse. He chose not to. As far as Betty Budd was concerned, such apathy was impossible.

"Why not? Why do you not name your horse?" she asked.

"Because when it dies, all that might be remembered is that it was a horse. Naming of beasts is stupid and irrelevant."

All was silent once again. The hunter breathed out.

"I'm Nikolai."

The afternoon passed with the two in the barn, waiting for the tornado to pass, and then waiting for the following rainstorm to pass. There were many one-sided conversations, with Nikolai drinking a bottle of his favorite Vodka (found during his travels) and Betty drinking scotch.

They were drunk. That's why, even after the storm passed, they stayed in the barn. Nikolai didn't leave until the next morning. He was in a good mood for once, because he managed, in his words, to "fuck her and chuck her".

Perhaps Budd wouldn't have made such a bad mistake if she was sober. No, not sleeping with Nikolai, but staying and talking with him through the storm. Still, she didn't know who he really was. As far as she knew, he liked being around her. She thought he wanted to be friends with her.

She was too innocent, Nikolai decided. He waited on a hilltop not far from the barn until she came out. She never saw the scope's glint. All she heard was a "BANG!", and Betty Budd was no more.

As far as he was concerned, Budd was a sheep to the slaughter. He figured he was doing her a favor by killing her quickly, because someone as innocent as she was would not survive in the real world.

Still, it was a successful hunt on his part. He stared for a moment through the scope. Her innocent eyes glazed and became dull.

"Good hunting."

Nikolai took to his horse, and was prepared for his attack when he did so. The sky was still overcast and the wind slowly picked up again, so he wanted to close the distance between himself and the camp before a storm brewed.

One could imagine his displeasure at having to make a long detour around several cliffs not on his map.

He let out more than one curse both in English and Russian. He didn't like even the thought of navigating through the new hoops just to get to his target, and the first raindrops only made him hate the idea even more.

The trip only took about two hours. Nikolai had no reason to stop. He skipped lunch and was sober enough since breakfast. The camp he had to hit was on guard, though. Word of one of the previous attacks had at long last reached his target, and the Legion was no doubt on alert for a Russian sniper as well as a former Vault Dweller.

Nikolai stopped his horse when he saw buildings. The camp was surrounded by the skeletons of old buildings, and though these were fairly stable, they were used only as some measure of protection against nature. Lately, with the rumors of not just one, but five Legionary camps being thrown into turmoil by Miss 101 and an unknown Russian, a sniper had been posted in one of the building windows. The sniper failed to notice Nikolai in the poor visibility courtesy of the storm, but Nikolai was a professional in the art of murder. The moment he saw the buildings surrounding the Legion's camp, he had the intention of checking them all for snipers. He dismounted his horse, sent it behind a rocky outcrop, and made his way forward slowly, until he was just able to see whoever might be in the buildings with his scope.

With its thin numbers, the Legion could only afford to remove two from patrol rotation. The two this particular camp chose were the best sniping pair in the camp. They weren't legendary, but they weren't likely to miss, no matter how fast Nikolai approached.

When he spotted the first sniper, he knew where the second would be. Directly next to the first was the spotter. Nikolai slowly opened his free eye, and he drew away from his scope. Though he wouldn't admit it, he was impressed with their organization. He took his radio out of his back pocket and turned it on.

"Whore, do you copy?"

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn't easy to tell, as the rain became a downpour by the time he showed up, a thunderstorm brewed, and the wind picked up. First there was white noise, and then Milly came back.

"Whore to Alcoholic. What's on your mind?"

Nikolai ignored her new name for him, and looked at the sniper and spotter through his scope again.

"My Legionary camp has a sniping team out, probably looking for one of us..."

The spotter pointed his partner to a distraction not far from Nikolai; maybe fifty feet. It was a deathclaw, and by the looks of things, wind was carrying Nikolai's scent away from it, and it was trying to find shelter. The sniper rifle's report was masked by the storm's anger, and all Nikolai saw was the deathclaw crumble back after being domed by the Legionary. Nikolai put his mouth to the radio again.

"...make that a very good sniping team."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Not if they don't see me. If I shoot now, the survivor will alert the camp. I need to get closer, and maybe I can get inside the building..."

He trailed off when he saw the locked gate with the Legionary mongrel and armed guard in a seat nearby.

"...or not. Just keep an eye out for snipers when you get to your next target."

He looked at the gate, but he had trouble seeing inside it. All he knew was the guard and mongrel were out of sight of the sniper team, but that didn't mean he was.

"Nikolai, do what you need to do. I don't care if it means blowing the place back to Caesar's front door. Just get it-"

He shut off the walkie talkie and breathed out slowly. He scoped the sniping team to see if they were looking at him, and he was lucky that they weren't. Still, it would only be a matter of time before they checked his position, so he slowly made his way to a rocky outcrop, still soaking wet. His slow movements drew no attention, but it only seemed to rain harder.

He wouldn't admit it, but he was actually nervous now. If he botched this shot, the whole camp would be on alert. Nikolai's worst enemy was an enemy sniper. He could kill the spotter or the sniper, but the each was likely trained to duck at the first sign of trouble. The only way he could kill them both silently would be to get inside the gate and outflank them without being detected. It was a strategy he'd employed before to infiltrate a terrorist organization outside of Volgograd. It wasn't that his mission went south that day in Volgograd. He completed his mission in clear weather. He never tried something like this in a heavy rain and windstorm, though.

He could simply leave the sniper team alone and go after his target, but if he couldn't get out quietly (and it was very unlikely that he would), he'd regret not removing them. He spared another look at the dead deathclaw, and then took a swig of water from his canteen, sparing his alcohol for a moment that wasn't life threatening.

He considered his options. If he killed the guard first, the dog may start running towards him, and if the sniper catches the dog running, he could be compromised. If he killed the dog first and didn't kill the guard immediately after, he'd likely be compromised. Still, it was likely that he'd be made quicker by four feet instead of two. He opted to kill the mongrel first, and then kill the guard posted at the gate right away.

He found no need to use the suppressor on his weapon, as the storm was loud enough to mask his shots. Even with the variable zoom scope, visibility was poor. He had to rely on the sihouette of his target.

He was lucky. The dog slumped to the ground shortly after he fired. The sniper team didn't kill him so he thought they didn't notice him. He saw the guard jolt when the dog's brain splattered his body, and that was the guard's final mistake. The movement confirmed that he was indeed staring at a man's silhouette. He quickly snapped to his next target and pulled the trigger again.

This time, the guard slumped into his seat. Nikolai wasn't sure initially where he hit either target, but both were either dead or unconscious, and that was all that was necessary at the moment.

After killing the man and the dog, Nikolai slowly made his way through the mud to the gate, a process that took the rest of the afternoon, and most of the evening. He'd constantly look at the sniping team through his scope to make sure he was still in the clear, and each time the answer was "yes".

He did, however, have to speed up his movement a bit when the storm began to slow down and visibility improved slightly. At that point, he was soaked through and covered in mud, so he blended in nicely with the rest of the land. The man had ended up violating his resolve and drinking his vodka during the slow crawl, not because he was weak, but because he was cold and wanted any warmth he might get.

He started drinking it because he wanted to stay warm. He kept drinking it because he was an alcoholic.

After he was done for the moment with his alcohol (he returned it to its proper spot in his pack), he dug through the dead man's belongings, searching for a key to open the door. After he found what he was looking for, he checked the man's vitals (and found none), and went for the door. Before he opened it, he spared another look at the dead man and saw an apple in his hand. He took it, took a bite, grimaced, and threw it away.

He wasn't quite sure why he did that. Maybe it was an attempt to delay his entry into this particular camp? If so, it didn't work very well. He ended up inside shortly thereafter.

Inside the camp, Nikolai was out of the sniper's line of fire. He entered the building he thought they were in, and for the first time since he started his infiltration, he was out of the weather. In spite of how soggy he was, he did his best not to make a sound. He always tried to avoid making a sound. When his comrades actually liked him, they nicknamed him "The Wolf", because he stalked quietly and viewed the art of murder as hunting.

He stalked his way up the steps to the next floor of the old pre-war building.

He paused midway up the steps. After this, either he'd leave the building or the sniping team would. He brought himself to continue, but wondered what made him suddenly hesitate.

It wasn't killing Budd. He did her a favor, and she did him a favor by serving as target practice. He reasoned it was because he was less-than-sober, and never dealt with an enemy sniping team while so.

When he saw them peering out at the wasteland, he got lower. Both had plates of half-eaten dinner next to them, and carried flares on them to attract Legionary attention anywhere they pleased.

He took out the spotter first because the spotter was closer, and then he went for the sniper. Both men were killed with his sidearm, because he wasn't sure how successful he'd be if he tried to kill them with his knife.

Before leaving the room, Nikolai decided to look at what the spotter was eating. He took his knife out; the weapon that was inside more people than it was its sheath, and stuck a piece of brahmin meat with it. He popped it in his mouth, and proceeded on.

Brahmin steak was his favorite meal next to alcohol.

Any confidence he had in himself was shattered shortly after he found his way outside. He left the building and turned a corner, and found himself face-to-face with three Legionaries and a guard dog.

All involved were very surprised, to say the least. For the first several seconds, not a shot was fired, and no alarm was raised. It was as if the world stopped turning, and time froze. Nikolai, though he was made, didn't stand tall at first. His eyes met the eyes of the three Legionaries, and then the dog's. All returned the look he gave them.

Had he been captured, he'd be interrogated, tortured, probably crucified, definitely slowly killed, and then tortured some more. After what felt like hours of silence, Nikolai broke the ice.

"Stay away from my vodka!"

As he shouted, he ran back to the sniper's nest and made sure to kill the dog and force the three behind cover. His tactics worked and he managed to get to the building safely, but he knew that he only had a limited amount of time to either dig in or escape.

He eyed the few propane tanks that were lined up against a wall and considered the flares the dead duo above were carrying. He fired blindly out the door to try and scatter a few of the Legionaries, and rushed up the stairs, retrieved the flares, and set to work on the propane tanks.

He stuck two flares to two propane tanks, and ensured both were lit before he threw them outside. The Legionaries, having had time to find cover, quickly threw themselves behind it at Nikolai's movements, but corrected themselves and spared a look at what he was doing. The propane tanks landed, and before the flares could suffer too much from the rain, Nikolai fired a round at one and took cover.

The explosion was mostly for show. It kept the Legionaries behind cover for a few more moments, and Nikolai took those moments to retreat further into the building. He slammed a door shut behind him and stuck an old iron pipe in the handles, and then turned to look at his surroundings.

It was very dark in the room he now hid in. He lit a flare he'd kept with him, and slowly walked forward with his sidearm in hand.

He frowned down at it. He only had four bullets left in his magazine.

The room he'd entered was at one point in the past used for storage of human beings, if the old clothing and slave collars were of any indication. Nikolai proceeded through relatively quickly before finding a latch leading underground. He didn't know where he'd end up if he used it, but he had a feeling that he'd be found relatively quickly should he continue through the remainder of the building.

He was walking through the underground for what felt like an eternity, his progress stale, eagerness dimming, and his interest vanishing. He was quite certain he was lost and he was also certain that the Legionaries were onto him by now.

It was with neither great relief nor great apprehension that he took to the exit when at last he reached it. He got down low and peered out at the wastes (but not before looking both ways). It had stopped raining.

He wasn't in the camp anymore, but it didn't take a genius to know that there was now a manhunt underway. Mongrels and Legionaries were searching far and wide for him, and he could hear footsteps closing in from behind. He very quietly exited the pipe he was in (he'd been walking through what was once a sewage system) and hid beneath it. It was dark and dank under the pipe and he understood that he'd be safe from wandering eyes if he did not move.

The Legionaries in the pipe thought that he'd flee, since the attacks on previous camps were never very long. The perpetrator, whether male or female, usually fled at the first opportunity. It was as such safely assumed that Nikolai considered his mission a complete failure and he tried to escape. The Legion didn't yet know just how much of an obsessive son of a bitch Nikolai Rascalov was, especially when it came down to the hunt.

He couldn't stand to be the prey. It was his number one fear. He was the predator. He was the killer. He would stalk and, if he must, go down fighting. Being hunted brought him halfway to prey. He didn't want to become "The Lamb" by silently fleeing the camp without accomplishing his goal. If he killed his target and then fled, it would be a tactical retreat. If he left unsuccessful, he was not an expert huntsman anymore.

On his right, the camp was above, just five feet overhead on a plateau. It had at one point been blocked off by a fence, but the storm that night blew a section of fence away, allowing entry. Nikolai carefully inched his way out of the shadows and towards the wall and slowly brought himself to the top.

He very nearly lost his footing while his climbed, as the wall was wet from the rain. Had he not been wearing boots that were appropriate for gripping, he surely would've fallen back and rolled down the remaining slope before being shot to death by the Legion.

He was still undetected, and the camp was nearly empty. He restocked on alcohol and a few Dragunov rounds in one tent, and then he found his way to the Centurion's tent. It was in the tent that he waited for his target.

He was there until the break of dawn, hidden in shadows in one corner of the tent. He would hardly allow himself to blink. He stared at the tent's entrance at every waking moment, waiting for his target to show his face.

It wasn't until dawn that the search for him was given up and the Legion returned to base. The Centurion, Remus, finally entered the tent, demanding his privacy from the Legionary guards that desired to watch over him from then on.

"He's not here. Keep watch on the camp, and tell those posted outside to watch for snipers. Nobody comes in here with a damned sniper rifle."

Nikolai glanced at the Dragunov on his back. The target closed the tent flaps and walked to his bed, where he collapsed face first with a groan.

"The Legion has declined tremendously."

Thus, the last word uttered by Remus was "tremendously". Nikolai drove his knife through the man's throat swiftly and silently. As the Centurion expired, Nikolai began sawing at his left hand with the blade, until it no longer belonged to the Centurion but now to Nikolai. He played with the nerve endings and pulled on tendons, moving the digits to his own devices. When he had his fun, he took the machete the Centurion had on his back, quietly stuck it in the ground, handle first, forced the severed hand to give the middle finger, and impaled it on the blade, facing the tent and any who would enter it.

He vanished through the rear of the tent and down the slope before anyone even knew the Centurion was killed, and the only way anyone knew of his presence at all was by his whistling for his horse. He looked back at the Legionary camp one final time before mounting the beast, but said not a word.

End of Chapter

3,977 words.

I had the idea of this chapter for a long time, but I got distracted, mainly with trolling people I don't know on xbox LIVE. A friend and I send people I do not know 15 second voice mail rants, sometimes involving pizza, or whether or not the move "Splash" from the Pokémon series does something (and as far as my friend is concerned, not only is something being kept from us, but he thinks that splash is the most powerful move in all of Pokemon).

Long story short, I was procrastinating.

Next chapter might have a bit of a wait, too, because I'm currently reading for three different classes. It covers Milly's next attack, and a surprise that nobody better be expecting.