Chapter XIV:
Shadow of the Mountain
Gideon
The vent grate hit the ground a little louder than I would've liked, but I was none the more happier to get the hell out of that dreary, undersized metal trap. I could certainly say that, and more, for Cass. She'd been like a scared cat crossing a busy New Reno road and I had had to coax her every crawl of the way as we made our way through. I'd be the first to admit I'm a fairly large man, so that made the journey something of a delicate squeeze and with me having to motivate the claustrophobic Cass to move inches at a time… sure as hell wasn't a party. Raul on the other hand was able to move about in the darkness with an ease that I envied.
Small structured bastard. He was a short, thin little man that looked more like a skeleton than something alive.
"God, fresh air!" Cass squealed as she practically leapt from the vent and onto the ground with a near feline finesse. I on the other hand ended up tumbling out and hitting the ground with an audible thud. As I brushed myself off, Raul smirked at me and I knew he was resisting the urge to laugh. I glared at him and gave him the you so much as chuckle I'll rip your guts out look. He proceeded to give me a shit eating grin.
"Never forget I have an easy sixty pounds on you and you've done nothing but piss me off all night long," I half whispered, half growled at the zombie. He shrugged his shoulders.
"Never forget you have zip to zero of escaping without me, boss."
"Touché. Don't mean I have to like it."
"Bien por tu."
"Oh fuck you, you rotting zombie."
"First, I stopped rotting a century back. Second, my gilipollas has seen better days, so your funeral. Third, don't tempt me. I might just go for your brain."
"Never one without a response, eh?"
He smiled deeply and lightly chuckled to himself:
"I try, boss."
"If we survive this, I might just have to hit you on principle alone."
"Wouldn't blame you."
Had to smile at that. Nothing would put this guy down and I admit I respected that.
"I think I'm starting to like you," my gaze turned to Cass and then back to Raul, "can you do some recon and make sure we're alone?"
Instead of a smartass remark, he simply nodded and disappeared around the corner. Cass... wasn't in good shape. She was huddled in a ball; rocking back and forth with her head buried in her legs, shivering like she'd been dropped into a cold mountain stream.
"Hey," I soothed softly as I comforted her, "you okay?"
It took a moment before she responded:
"I don't like tight spaces."
"I know."
"Don't ask me to do that again."
"If I do, you have permission to slug me."
She turned her head and looked at me weirdly. I shrugged:
"If it makes you feel better. Just don't aim for the face."
She smiled slightly:
"That might be a challenge. You have a very punchable face."
My turn to look weird:
"Thanks, I guess?"
"You're welcome."
"Well, you ready to move out?"
She nodded, and I helped her to her feet. Yet before I could take point, she tugged on my shoulder. I turned, and she pressed something into my hand. From the feel, I knew it was a switchblade.
"Had it hidden in my boot. But I think yer better with a knife than me. I want it back, though."
"Your mothers?"
"No. Just a good knife is all. Took it off a fellow drunkard back in Shady Sands."
I hit the release button and the blade popped through the top of the hit. She was right. It was a good knife. I clicked it back into the guard position and hid it up my sleeve.
"C'mon. Raul's just up ahead."
We rounded the corner when Raul waved us to get down. No sooner than we did than a patrol of three Super Mutants marched past us, their footfalls causing slight tremors in ground as they moved. Their massive muscled frames were adorned with a mismatch of armor that looked like it'd been made from welded together scrap metal and tire rubber for shoulder poltroons. Wouldn't stop bullets, but it would make close combat all the more trickier with them.
"Christ, did you see the size of them?" Cass breathed at my elbow, "Bastards could probably throw the three of us around like a football."
"Trust me, seniora," Raul whispered, "they get even bigger than that. All right, let's go."
We quickly low crawled our way forward and then dashed to another building, hugging the wall the moment and sliding to the far corner. Raul was on point and he poked his head around.
"See anything?"
"Those three are hanging around at the entrance of the building. Joder. Could they not piss faster?"
"Seriously?" Cass inquired.
"Well if you can call that pissing. More like radioactive goop than piss. Wait… they're done and moving."
"Let's go then."
We popped around the corner and made a dash for the building.
"Buildings made of stone and concrete," Cass whispered at my elbow as we moved, "could muffle any noise in there."
"Could," I replied, "but I don't wanna take chances. We do this quiet."
With that, she nodded. We gave it a good minute before we made a move for the balcony. Considering I was both the heaviest, but also the strongest of the group we made the split second decision that I'd go first into the breach. Cass cupped her hand and I stepped into it; her grunting the while as she hoisted me up onto the building. I then low crawled my way past the low hanging wall and onto solid ground; the switch knife clenched in my hand as I look about for any sign of movement.
There was none. I look up into the sky and saw the beginning of a storm front as pitch black clouds shrouded the moon in their embrace. This was a good score for us. The darkness would give us good cover and may even give us the opening to get the jump on these mutated bastards. Hopefully though they can't see in the dark or otherwise that advantage just got flipped on us.
"No, don't think about that," I whispered to myself, "You've already jinxed yourself tonight. Best not to do it again."
I made my way back to the edge and pulled up first Cass then followed by Raul.
"Took your time, jefe."
"Hey you were the one worried about cleverly concealed cardboard boxes. I'm just making sure one doesn't spring on us out of nowhere."
"If you two are done dick measuring over there," Cass growled from the darkness, "can we get a move on? That cloud cover's only gonna last fer a bit."
"Right. Raul, what's our next move?"
"Like I said: uno stupido del mutant."
"Right. The one with rocks instead of brains."
Quickly and quietly we made our way down the stairs when suddenly the Sensorium started beeping softly. I held up a clenched fist; unveiling the Pip-Boy from the cover of my sleeve and pulling up the map. Sure enough there was a large dot pacing back and forth on our three o'clock about thirty feet out. I popped my head around the corner seeing the next hallway clear of hostiles and we began our advance. As we got closer and closer the large blip got clearer and clearer until we reached the half-opened door at the end of the passage.
"He's right in front of us," I whispered softly.
"I got an idea," Cass replied, popping her head through the door for a second before returning, "the room is too wide fer us to try and take him. He'd rip us all a new one 'fore we could bring him down. But in here..."
"You wanna draw him in?"
"Mmm hmm. Wait fer him to pop his head through then we grab him. Get him on the floor and shank his ass."
"Alright. We'll still need a way to draw him in."
"Well we could start throwing a ruckus in here—"
"No, we need him to come in here without being cautious—"
"So what the hell—"
Before either one of us could say another word, Raul brushed past us and kicked open the door. After giving us a broad wink, he marched and shouted:
"Hey amigo! You double crossing pile of mierda verde! You cheated me at cards! I want my caps back, tu esmeralda mierda mancha!"
"The fuck is he doing!?" Cass cursed softly.
"Baiting the trap. Quick, get to cover."
We dived into another room to our left, and no sooner than we did Raul came running down the hall shouting:
"C'mon big boy! Fresh rotting carne this way!"
Suddenly the ground shook with heavy footfalls as the mutant gave chase. Then before either one of us could even count: it was in front of the door. As it passed us, I reared up and barreled right into the mutant; throwing my bodyweight into my shoulders as I broadsided the thing with everything I had. The blow threw the mutant into the wall which crumpled under its monstrous mass; yet with inhuman speed it recovered and swung its weapon, a nailboard, right back at me. As it swung I dropped into a roll, just barely missing the impact as I came up right behind the bastard.
With this, my mind ran through the dilemma I was presented with in a matter of heartbeats. The mutant was incredibly thick in muscle which meant with only the switchblade I'd be able to make superficial wounds at best. A direct stab down its skull cap would be an automatic lights out but it stood a good foot and some change taller than me which meant I wouldn't be able to generate the needed force and momentum to penetrate its thick bone. That left me with only one option, and it was a terrible one because of how exposed it would leave me. I was going to have to slit its throat, and that meant I going to have pull a Crazy Monkey: jump on its back, hold on tight and do as much damage as I could before the thing yanked me off.
As it moved to swipe at me again, I made my move. I leapt onto its back, the blade slashing at its arms and back on the way up. I lock my arms around its neck, but before I could properly get in position; the mutant started whirling about like a manic kid fucking around. I hadn't the time to secure my legs, so I was being thrown about with only my arms and my tenacious stupidity preventing from splattered against a wall. But eventually it wised up and just grabbed me by my arms and threw me into the next room.
The impact of the wall threw me into near unconsciousness, and as I lay on the floor bleeding, my ribs feeling like they'd taken the mother of all beatings, my ears ringing like churchbells and my lungs held shut by iron weights: the sound of the outside world dimmed to subtle echoes that were overshadowed by my harsh breathing. My vision was constantly shifting from wakefulness to darkness, my brain feeling too battered to think properly. Then after a time that felt an age but probably less than a few seconds I felt tremors in the floor. I looked up and I saw death waiting for me in a shadowed figure. It raised its club and I knew my ride was over.
Then the air was ravaged by a blood curdling scream and another figure tackled my executioner into a counter. It was then that it dawned on me that this must have been a kitchen or somekind of mess hall. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of iron impacting bone, not once but four consecutive times. As this happened, I began to crawl my way off the floor. My arms felt utterly weak, shacking from the effort and from the extreme nausea that my head swim in its own collective floods but eventually with lungs that felt they were going to burst; I'd managed to get into the fettle position.
As I looked back at the counter on the eve of the fourth thwang that shook the room, my vision cleared. It was Cass standing over the mutant with an iron skillet. At first I thought she'd stopped because she'd sufficiently bashed the Super Mutants brains in, but on a closer look I saw the real reason. The skillet had literally caved in under the impacts! Then the Mutant displayed once it's near impossible endurance by swiping his arm at Cass and throwing her aside like she'd been nothing more than a bug.
"Ugly girl hurt Bulk! Bulk smash ugly girls head!"
The Mutant gripped the club in both hands and raised it high above its head. Then out from the doorway, Raul came in from behind and delivered a kick to the family jewels. Not only did it do nothing but annoy the brute; the blow had jarred Raul's foot badly, who hobbled about clutching shrieking at the top of his lungs:
"Dios mio! Que diablos estan las pelotas hechas de!?"
"Bulk smash smelly man man!"
Then the nail board came down like an executioners axe.
"Smelly man leave Bulk alone!"
As the club practically destroyed the floor, Raul leapt back like a startled cat on its ninth life. I struggled to rise, slamming the knife into the wall and using it as a prop as I clawed my way off the floors. My head was spinning and my vision flickered in and out of the darkness. I held myself steady s my knees shook from the effort. I closed my single eye and tried to focus my mind into some semblance of working.
There was no way in hell we could take that thing down with what we have. I need… something. Anything to put some hurt on that bastard and fast.
"Hey shithead! Catch!"
I turned to see Cass smashing the Mutants head in with a cutting board, which literally disintegrated into pieces upon impact. Then Raul followed up by smacking a pot over his cranium. While it sent the monster staggering, the pot had been bashed in to where it no longer resembled a pot.
"Mi dios. How hard is your dumb head?"
The Mutant responded with a swing that took out a fridge before it messaged its battered head.
"Bulk not feel right."
"Bulk gonna feel a lot worse!"
That was when Cass buried a cleaver into its weapon hand right above its wrist. On a human the hand would've been done and gone in a bloody mess. Instead the blade was literally stuck in its wrist as dark blood spurted out from the wound. The green giant screamed a scream I'd never heard before. It was… indescribable.
Then that was when I heard a loud thump like something falling to my left that made me turn. With my mind waving in and out of actual sensible thought I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Either way, I made the move to run but instead I fell to the floor. The fall was heavy and my already fucked up rips took another overdose of pain. That's alright; I can take it.
Arm over arm, I crawled and clawed my way over to the wall counter. Pulling myself up, I saw it. Lain in its holster discarded in a sink of all things was the strange pistol that Cliff Broscoe had given me earlier this night. As I grabbed the heavy blaster, I was relieved at the cold familiar feel of cooled refined gun metal. Barely holding onto the counter, I yanked it from the leather holster and tried to balance it in my one free hand.
"Gahh! Let go of me you big blob of green shit!"
In a heartbeat, I spun around to see Cass being yanked off her feet by her hair as Raul desperately tried to hold down the Mutants weapon arm which had somehow managed to get a hold of the club even though it had cleaver inbedded in it. From the weight of the gun and the odd caliber it chambered plus with the addition of probably zero recoil control in the grip; I knew I was going to need two hands for this. I dropped to the floor, putting my back against the counter as I gripped the handgun in both hands. It had the strongest kick I'd ever experienced. It felt like a cannonball had gone off in my hand and the shock wave sent a bolt of aching pain down my arms as the gun went high and as did my shot.
I'd been aiming for its head but I'd ended up shooting out the roof instead. The Mutant stopped, turned, threw Cass and Raul aside as though they'd been paper and then kicked the kitchen counter table over as he marched towards me, club in hand. I should've been panicking at this point, but instead a powerful calm took over. I closed my eye and when they opened the Mutant before me was glowing! Through the adrenaline induced cocktail that was rushing through my veins I grinned slightly as my mind focused and the orange hue centered on its chest.
Honed to a razor's edge, I calculated two distinct shoots right where its heart lay. Then, as the tinge started to fade, I made one final round for the head. The handgun rocked in my hand as in slow motion the end of the barrel exploded like dragons breath. Whether it was the adrenaline pumping in my veins or having gotten used to the recoil, the blaster held steady with only a controllable jump as the first round made its way towards it target. The round punched through its chest in a spectacular explosion of blood and bone that threw him backwards several feet.
Then the second round hit about a hands span to the right and nearly toppled him over. Then the third and final round hit him in the cheek, ripping through and taking half the head with it on the way out. With a final exhaustion of breath, the world returned to its normal pace as the creature slumped onto the floor, the remains of whatever brains it had left leaking out of its destroyed skull. I'd been expecting the same nausea that had hit me the last time I'd used V.A.T.S., but it never came. Instead I felt… peace almost.
The pain that had burned its way across my ribs died to a low ache, and I felt renewed strength in my legs. Still, it was a bitch to get off the floor but at least it was a start. With a shit eating grin, I chuckled:
"Bigger they are the harder they fall, huh?"
"Fuckin' show off," Cass laughed, though with the heavy ringing in my ears I had to almost read her lips, "still though, that thing is a fucking hand cannon. I'm surprised it didn't take off your hand."
"It almost did," I replied, shaking my aching hands before I stepped over and pulled Cass on her feet.
"Dios mio, I think I might've broke my spleen. Or is that my pancreas? Mierda, why'd I get so old?"
"I thought you said he was gonna be dumber than rocks."
"Oh ho ho, he was. If he wasn't… well you get my meaning," and with that he rose, straightening his back with the sound of bones pooping like miniature gunshots before his usual devil-may-care demeanor returned, "now, shall we have some fun?"
"After you."
With this he brushed past me and then kicked open a metallic, quick-install door that had been somehow out of sight earlier. With an elaborate bow and a waving gesture of his hand, he beckoned us in:
"Damas y caballeros, I give you the room of doom! Well, close enough."
Close enough indeed. While not as impressive as I'd been secretly hoping, it was still a good start and would give us a fighting chance. Before was an 8by8 room with two shelves on either wall and on each of them… well, enough to certainly give us options. One shelf, the right one, was clearly meant for the Super Mutant's go-to weaponry. This one was largely empty but on the end were three Colt Commandoes with attached silencers.
Beneath that on a bottom shelf was about a half dozen ammo crates, and opening them up I admit my gut dropped. Inside three of them were standard AR magazines. About twelve per box. Running the numbers through my head, we had almost a thousand rounds that we could have to dish out. Though I was disappointed that three of the cans were empty, which would've doubled our ammo count, it was again a good start.
Quickly, I made a check on the Commandoes. Almost on touch, I knew these were military, not civilian. The selector switch was set with burst and full auto modes, and the barrel felt heavier compared to others. That meant they'd been reinforced to compensate for the higher amount of rounds downrange which meant more heat for the internals. Plus, these were in extremely good condition.
"Almost too good," I mused silently. Like they'd just been taken out of some storehouse not opened for a couple of centuries. I pushed the question aside: it was time instead to focus on the coming action. I grabbed the Commandoes with the ammo cans and placed them on a center table. Cass on the other hand had been inspecting the other shelf, which by the array of weapons from Caravan Shotguns to 9mm Grease Guns I knew had to have been taken from caraveners and travelers on the road.
Then she pulled out another box and when she opened it up, my heart jumped. I smiled slyly:
"Seems up your alley."
"Oooh, don't tempt me. I just might take you up on it."
To further her point, she pulled out one of the fragmentation grenades and tossed in hand several times.
"Okay enough with the hot potato! You're making me nervous jutting that thing around."
At this she smirked. Then Raul interrupted the exchange by slamming a crate up onto the table:
"You play with fire and you get burnt and blah blah blah. I outgrew this foreplay nonsense a century and a half ago. If I'd the time I'd pull out a bible and…"
"One more word," Cass growled warningly, "and I don't need ta tell ya what comes next?"
"Nope," he smirked, "Anyway, here's your gear."
Sure enough there it was. I reached in and grabbed my holstered pistols and my blade while Cass grabbed her trusty double barrel and the 10mm. The next 10 seconds was spent checking the .45's, reloading one and then placing them in each of their natural positions. The only oddman out was That Gun. After first adding four rounds into the cylinder, I opted for the old fashioned waistband approach.
Yet, as I handled the strange and heavy handgun, a revelation hit me. I'd found the weapon in a sink. Yet, looking back on the thirty seconds I was in the room before then, not once had I'd seen it there prior. Add in the fact that I'd heard the sound of somebody dropping it left me with one conclusion. My guardian angels were still look out for me, in their strange ways.
I shook off the thought and went to the task of loading the Colt Commandoes. First, I took I paired each of the mags and taped them together before loading each rifle before stuffing two of the pairs, plus an odd man out, in my cargo pockets. I then handed weapon and mags over to Cass as she finished loading her shotguns. I was about to hand one to Raul when I noticed what he was holding: In either hand holstered in weathered leather gunslinger holsters were the clear stylized wooden handles and double action heavy hammers of S&W Model 29's no doubt chambered in the venerable .44. Looking at them brought back a very ancient memory: I'd hunted with one scoped up in northern Utah in the foothills of the Great Salt Lake.
Like a film reel the memory went. I was with a squad of others, creeping through the brush in the darkness. It'd rained that night; I could feel the cold water running up on my leg and on my knees. Then we came upon dry land and then next several minutes passed in a set of single shot images, grainy in color like before in my other flashbacks. Through the darkness of that storm we struck.
I could feel the hot blood running through my fingers as I slit the throats of men asleep, never to wake again. I could feel the pulsing kick of the magnum as I obliterated men and women alike. One by one they fell as the rain poured on and on and on through the night, as though God above was trying to wash away the blood that pooled in the salted mud that ran to our knees. The killing did not stop: it went on and on for so many images, images of my wanton destruction. Images that haunted me to my very soul.
I felt sick at not just what I was seeing, but at what I was feeling. I should've been feeling guilt or even horror at what I was doing. Instead, I felt… rage. A hot, overwhelming rage that clouded over my senses and made me want to kill. I didn't understand why.
Then at long last: the final image showed me the why of things. See the man, the savage before me I understood why. I understood what I was hunting, what I was killing. From the pale skin and the scarlet war paint to the braids they wore; I knew what they were. White Legs.
Then the image shifted, and the memory carried on like a film reel. In the bloodied salt marshes, I stood erect like a statue over the bodies of the fallen. Even then, I knew the thoughts of anger and grief and confusion that ran through me now ran through me then. I stared at the ones I had killed, their bodies ripped apart like chopped liver as my eyes ran across the battle field. No, this hadn't even been a battle.
It'd been a massacre.
"They got what they deserved, buddy."
I turned to face the speaker, and in that moment I recognized him but I did not know him. He was younger now, but the cropped red hair was still the same as he stared out past me. At the very same thing I'd been looking upon.
"You honestly think they wouldn't do worse to us or anybody else if they had the chance? You can't parlay with something that doesn't understand the concept. Better they go rather than some other poor bastard."
Then there was another voice, faint like an echo that ranged across the salt marshes and the dry river valleys beyond:
"Gideon!"
Then I felt a slap across my face and my eye opened:
"Gideon! Wake up man! Wake up!"
I was lying on my back.
"W-w-what happened?"
"You fainted, boss. My good looks finally caught up with you, eh?"
"Oh go fuck yourself Raul!" Cass barked with a mad glare in her eyes, but before she could make a move I grabbed her firmly by the shoulder:
"I'm okay, Cass. Just a bad memory."
"A memory knocked you out? What, you get knocked on the head by some pretty blonde or some other dama?"
"Close enough," I answered as Cass helped me off the floor and into a chair, "except for the dames. I just… saw something familiar and it overwhelmed me."
"Well, considering you didn't caer en su cara fea when you saw me, I guess it was these."
With that he drew one of the Model 29's. It was a beautiful pistol, well maintained and polished with the standard nine inch barrel.
"Jesus," Cass mouthed, "what the hell do you do with a cannon like that?"
"They…" he began, pausing a while as he maneuvered the magnum in his hand, his eyes staring over them almost as though he'd never seen it in years, "They were my papas. He… hunted with them. Osos and the like. Before that, mi abuelo carried them when he was federales con Ciudad de Mexico. Now, they're mine."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
I know his pain. I may not remember why, but in my guts I know it all too well. He then cocked his head and grinned at me:
"When you reach over two centuries, boss, things like that don't trouble you no more. Now what about you? What big bad thing put you on the floor?"
"I dunno. It's kind of a blur."
I could feel Cass's eyes bearing down at me, but I didn't need to look to know she could see right through me. That's okay, though. That's something I can deal with later. Right now we had more important things to do than worry about a trip down memory lane. Like killing Super Mutants.
With that, I rose to my feet and shouldered my Commando. I knew Cass was going to protest and just when I was about to turn to calm her; I noticed for the first time something large being covered by a tarp on a table towards the very back of the room. When I removed the tarp, my heart jumped a beat or two.
"Mi dios. Oh Santos Maria y Joseph."
"Is… is that what I think it is?"
There was no question about it. From its enormous, box like structure to the steel barrel with an under barrel gas tube with its distinct triangular sight, I knew I was looking at The Hog. It was of the old M-60 line, but this one had gone through a heavy series of changes. The first was that the forearm and handgrip had been made of refined wood rather than rubber. The second was that the German style MG stock (also made of rubber and metal), had been replaced by a skeletal stock.
The third, judging from the attacher clips under the action that this weapon was designed to take a box magazine; which was missing. That led me to the fourth major change. Because the box mag was missing, it'd been loaded with a long belt of ammo instead. Normally, an M-60 would use .30, but this one had been rechambered to fire the 5.56mm instead. I took it up in my arms and the monstrous weight hit me.
It had to have weighed a good 20lbs. But I knew the raw devastation it could wield, so I shouldered the weight and wrapped the belt around my arm as I braced it in my hands. Unknowingly, a small grin stretched across my face. To this, Cass chuckled:
"That's definitely you."
Veronica
You know what I hate about Super Mutants? Or generally anybody for that matter? They have no respect for anything technology, nor do they have any fricking concept on how fragile most of it is! So what do they do most of the time? They act like children and rip it apart without any thought to its delicacy or individual importance of every single piece.
One only need look at poor ED-E to understand this. They had opened him and had practically ripped his internal electronics out.
"I'm going punch their stupid heads in on general principle for this," I cursed darkly as I went to work. Half of registering servos were badly damage, as was most of the wiring. Four of the sensor modules were rendered completely inoperable, with the other two being surprisingly out of the way of physical harm. Optics systems has lost some of its processors, the hover driver a fuel cell that was attached to the main power source. Surprisingly, that was the only thing that hadn't been completely torn apart and was still in decent enough condition.
Perhaps the biggest thing that had me worried is if they'd ripped out his Personality Matrix. If it'd received too much damage, then the best I could do for him would be to take him outside and give him a proper burial. Because he would just be another mindless automaton without any true life or function that made him what he is… or was. I closed my eyes, and sighed deeply. If what I saw confirmed the latter, then there would be no point in saving him.
After a long moment I removed a flashlight and went into the belly of the beast. There, located right next to the installed Detection Drive, was ED-E's brain. Carefully, I found the connection switch and slowly removed the Personality Matrix. I looked over his heart-like design, hoping beyond hope that it was still intact. To my amazement, it hadn't been damaged at all, not even touched!
I wondered why. Clearly the Jolly Greens were determined to strip every single substance out of ED-E, so why'd they stop? I didn't know if Gideon or the others had managed to escape the ambush or were still here. If it was the former; then maybe they were out looking in force. I shook my head.
"All I wanted was a ride. See the world and learn a few things. Why'd I have to get monkeywrenched again?"
I knew the answer to that. If luck had a meter; then mine was rated at the Sickly Albatross category. Doesn't matter now, though. It was time to bring ED-E back from the dead. I reinstalled the Personality Matrix and any other parts that hadn't been turn to cheddar.
Now I needed to find replacement parts for everything else. Where to start?
"I guess this is what Victor Frankenstein felt like. Feels good."
I began searching the room. My guess was if this was the place they took tech, then I reasoned there had to be more. After finding nothing in the room, I went through a door hidden by the shadows. On the otherside was a storeroom full of junk of every kind of category. As I began shifting through the varying counters, tossing what I needed into a bag; I found the jackpot. Lying on a table was a broken up Mr. Handy robot.
White in color with a bulbous round top, an anti-grav engine below connected to a three separate tentacle like arms and on the head were another three like tentacles that housed his eyes.
"You'll do, my techno octopus friend."
Out of all the robots I could ask for; a Mr. Handy would work well enough. Aside from ED-E, Mr. Handy's were among the most advance considering they were built for the purpose of being butlers and nannies. As such, their optical processors and intelligence capacities, plus anti-gravitational motors would work well enough with ED-E's systems. I grabbed the robot, hefting its weight across my shoulders. Oddly enough, this robot hadn't been visibly gutted and judging by the heavy weight I knew that its internals hadn't been removed.
Which made me wonder; were they trying to repair this Mr. Handy with ED-E? If so, why? By habit, most Super Mutants despised advance technology. It was like I was trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle and I was missing half the pieces.
"C'mon V. No need to trivia just yet."
I threw the Mr. Handy onto the table and began prying open its internal systems. Sure enough, most of it was untouched. Most. After about three minutes of digging through its electrical stomach I eventually found that the robots Personality Matrix and connecting cognitive servos were fried. My guess was it suffered a deliberate blow to the right area and it caused an internal explosion that then set the thing into shutdown mode.
I could repair it. I could, but then I'd be forced to sacrifice saving ED-E. No, that wasn't a choice I'd ever make. I made my piece with this mechanical being and I began to strip what I needed. I removed its sensor modules, part of its cognition sensors, optics and situational analysis drives, plus its power cells, communication arrays and anti-grav motors.
I also began pulling out a few odds and ends from the bag of other goodies I'd found. It brought a slight grin to my eyes doing so. In three days, it'd be Hollow's Eve. If we got out of this alive, I would like to stop by Freeside and see all the cute kids in their costumes making their rounds. I might even dress up as a ghost and scare the living daylights out them. Yes, I'm that heartless.
I pushed the thought aside and began installing the new parts. I found a low beam plasma torch and began fusing parts together; carefully installing them into the correct places that I knew they should. Once this was done, I burned off sections of the Mr. Handy's metallic hide and began fusing together a sort of protective shield over those internal parts in a honeycomb pattern. Trust me when I say this. I don't want to have fix him again.
As soon as I closed the final hatch, he started vibrating violently.
"He's…he's alive!"
I couldn't resist.
"Zzpptss-brinnzzz!"
With a jolt, ED-E shot from the table and began zooming around the room like a chicken with its head cut off. He was panicking, that much I could tell. As he came around again, I grabbed from mid-air and clutched him close to my chest.
"Shh, easy little guy. I've got you. No stupid monster coming to hurt you."
That did the trick. He calmed down enough and I let him go. He floated off and stared questioningly at me. Then using his eternal radio, he sounded:
" Where and where am I? Where have all the good boys gone? "
"I don't know. I just woke up here too. I had to put you back together."
No sooner than I said that he then darted his body down as though he was trying to see if he was wearing clothes or not. When he came back up, I had the strangest feeling he was grinning slyly at me.
" I hope you like what you saw! Ooo-a-ooo! "
"You have the maturity of preteen virgin, you filthy little… eh, you know the rest." I chuckled back him, to which he shrugged. He then beeped a question and I knew what it was.
"I managed to wiggle out where our friends are. We'll need to stick to the shadows, but I think we can make it where ever they are."
He beeped again, this time the tone was fairly aggressive. I grinned slightly and nodded.
"Don't worry. Before this is over, we'll both have our revenge."
Translation
tu esmeralda mierda mancha
you emerald shit stain
Dios mio! Que diablos estan las pelotas hechas de!?"
My God! What the hell are your balls made of!?
