Mutatis Mutandis 36
The march up the west side of the Potomac was a hectic and worried affair. Jackrum and his lieutenants led the charge, backed up by mercs with hunting rifles. On the far side of the river, mutant forces heading south stopped to exchange fire. Streams of bullets flew back and forth constantly, halting many Wasters as they dug in to pick targets. The rest of the wasteland forces moved past them, following the riverbank.
The wastelanders found a way across at the Anchorage memorial bridge, but found themselves stranded on the memorial itself. The man-made peninsula was a defensible position, one which the mutants held successfully for a good seven minutes until an enclave airstike could be called in. the memorial was obliterated, with chunks of stone thrown in every direction. The three-dozen mutants holding the island were thrown to the ground, most of them dead.
The wastelanders crossed with ease and took the peninsula, but promptly found themselves being fired upon on all sides. The road across the moat was filled with angry mutants, and the Wastelander's offensive came grinding to a halt. Jackrum set a quarter of his remaining forces to hold the Anchorage bridge, and prevent the mutants from taking it back. He led the rest of them even further along the western bank, searching for a way across.
They reached Wilhelm's Wharf, and were immediately set upon by mutants on the opposite bank. The bulky green shapes lined up on the opposite sea wall and fired a barrage of rockets at the wharf, turning it to splinters, and killing over a dozen wasters. The entire area was nearly devoid of cover, and Jackrum quickly diverted his troops away from the shoreline. He marched them northwest up a steep hill and onto a bluff where buildings and a stone wall protected them.
Wasteland snipers hid amongst the rocks and fired back, killing a few mutants, but the rocket launchers were soon replaced by miniguns, and the massive rain of lead brought Jackrum's entire advance to a halt yet again as the wastelanders dove desperately for cover.
Once again the day was saved by Enclave personnel. In their thick armor, they were the only ones who could walk freely through the bullet storm, and they did, tearing enormous sheets of corrugated steel from cars, and buildings. They even dismantled Grandma Sparkle's Shack.
The sheets were put to use forming a protective barrier between the wastelanders and the supermutant miniguns. Jackrum's forces moved more freely up the hill and out of danger. As the last of them passed by, the enclave soldiers dropped their panels and folded up their lines, following Jackrum north.
He finally found passage across just east of the Super-Duper Mart at the northern-western edge of downtown D.C.. The river grew shallow enough that a crossing was within the realm of possibility. A mutant force tried to ambush them from the overpass above the river, but Jackrum's scouts had spotted them, and reported back. Wishing to avoid a repeat of the ambush at Wilhelm's Wharf, Jackrum called the Vertibirds for a preventative strike. Just as Jackrum's forces left the protection of D.C.'s derelict buildings, a few Vertibirds passed low overhead, and fired a salvo of missiles at the overpass's concrete supports. The structure collapsed into the river, simultaneously killing a dozen mutants, and making the river shallow enough to wade across. An answering barrage of missiles flew out of the eastern ruins, trailing black smoke behind them. One of the Vertibirds went down just north of the Wasteland forces and exploded in a miniature mushroom cloud.
Aware of his time constraints, and Sergeant Turner's dwindling resistance, Jackrum decided to take the risk. He ordered his men across in a long column three abreast. The mutants attacked once again, springing their trap just as the first column triumphantly set foot on the east riverbank. Masters and brutes poured out of the Farragut Metro Station, and an entire mutant horde numbering close to eighty appeared on the crest of the riverbank, having marched straight from their camp just south of the Chryslus building with orders to hold the bank at all costs.
The wasteland column caught in the water was slaughtered by incoming fire. Water and blood sprayed in equal measure, and soon the river had turned red. The screams of dying wastelanders filled the air, matched only by the sounds of rage and grief from those still left on the western shoreline.
"To cover!" Jackrum cried, "Find cover!" The wasteland army scrambled and dispersed, with groups of dozens finding shelter behind boulders and concrete and broken cars. A sizeable chunk retreated back to the shelter of the super-duper mart, safe from hostile fire, but also unable to respond in kind.
Jackrum scrambled from cover to cover, dodging bullets and trying to strengthen his fighters' fraying nerves. Amongst one group of Mercs he found a young, fresh-faced Enclave officer. Her nametag identified her as Campbell, but Jackrum recognized her as Sergeant Turner's young lady friend.
"You!" he barked, sliding into cover beside her, "Do you have a radio?"
"I've already called for backup!" she shouted back. They both ducked as a missile flew overhead and detonated behind them, killing three more wasters.
"God damn it all to hell! Hold them back, boys! Hold them back!" Jackrum hollered. He shouldered his rifle and fired across the river at an exposed mutant, planting half a dozen rounds in the monster's side. It keeled over and slid out of sight, only to be replaced by two of its comrades.
From the south came the sound of whirring rotor blades. The wastelanders cheered as four vertibirds swooped in from the Arlington cemetary, bearing down on the mutant horde. Their joy was cut short, however, when volleys of rockets trailed out from the mutant positions. One vertibird veered off course, two rockets missing by mere inches. Another one was hit in the rotor, and went down in the Potomac. The third Vertibird hit a rocket head-on. The explosion took off the aircraft's nose, and sent it spiraling into the mutant positions, killing quite a few of the monsters in a massive fireball. The fourth took a glancing hit on the wing, and was forced into a rough landing in the super-mart's parking lot. None of them had fired a shot. The mutants had learned not to let them get close enough.
"Fuck!" Jackrum hissed furiously as his men watched in forlorn silence.
"It's too hot, sir." Campbell reported, one hand pressed to the receiver in her ear. There are no more coming."
"How are we supposed to take the bank now?" Jackrum demanded, giving the situation a quick examination.
The wastelanders were under fire, pinned behind boulders and trapped in the ruins of shore-side restaurants and office buildings. Across the riverbank, the mutant reinforcements were digging in, lugging around chunks of concrete, and laying out barbed wire to fence off the northern edge of the east bank. Jackrum could make out the bulk of several overlords carrying super sledgehammers.
Not only were the mutants determined to hold the bank, they were preparing to launch an offensive to expel the wasters entirely from the western ruins. They were going to take Arlington, and drive the resistance into the open wastes, where they could be easily hunted and cut down by the mutants' superior numbers.
The river was full of wastelander bodies. Jackrum knew his troops couldn't cross at the Farragut metro station. Not with the amount of incoming fire; mutant forces had a commanding hold on the river. Heading any further north was equally as hazardous, as the action would take his forces into the open wasteland where the mutants could flank and pummel them far more easily. Now with no enclave reinforcements, Jackrum's hope of advancing and relieving Turner's trapped wasters was crumbling, alongside his hope of winning the battle.
"What's that?" Campbell asked, pointing northeast. In the distance there was a prominent rocky cliff, which jutted out over the highway which led straight from the wasteland into the heart of D.C.. An old pre-war sign had been placed there, and its white enclave mural contrasted against the darkness of the Bethesda ruins which lay behind it.
An enormous figure was standing before it, holding a minigun. Jackrum for a moment thought it was a mutant, but it was just a little too small, and after another moment's examination, he recognized the insectoid power armor of the Chosen One.
Jackrum grinned, and pulled out his cigarette package. "Cavalry's here, boys. Let's sit back and watch the show."
What Jackrum did not know was that the waster attack on the Supermutant-controlled ruins had been two-pronged. Narg had in fact arrived in Northern D.C. before dawn that very morning. The Tribal had led his mechanical, and insect army into an all-out assault on the Northern ruins of D.C.. The attack had been successful. Most of the mutants had been gathering at the mall, and outside of Rivet City in preparation for Jackrum's impending assault. They had left the northern sections of the ruins nearly undefended.
The Ant Army, with assistance from the Mechanist's heavy-duty war machines had driven fairly deep into the D.C. ruins, getting as far as Georgetown before being chased out by a force of mutants three-hundred strong.
Narg, much to his private irritation, had then retreated. Normally he would have stayed and simply battered his way through his enemies until he was the last man standing. That was how fights usually went. But in this case, victory through captured ground was not his true intention. His intention was to coax large chunks of Brutus' army out of the center of D.C., thinning the resistance which Jackrum's army would encounter. The plan worked. Those three-hundred mutants who had driven back his attack did not bunker down as he had feared, but rather followed recklessly, charging after him into the maze of D.C., and leaving their Brethren behind.
He once again met them in battle at the Chryslus building, where he and the Mechanist's robots held the building itself, sending wave upon wave of ants at the attacking mutants, slowly whittling down their numbers. His army had killed just over a third of the attacking forces when the mutants suddenly split. Nearly a hundred remained, carrying on the battle against him, and the rest headed east to the riverside.
Clearly Jackrum had hit a nerve, but a hundred mutants were more than enough to change the outcome of a battle. Narg had decided to follow them east. Now he stood on a cliff watching Jackrum's failed march, and the supermutants which were slowly gaining ground. Narg stared down at the beleaguered Wasters and shook his head. "What a gong show…"
Beside him, the Mechanist appeared. "Shall we relieve our comrades?"
"Yep. Where's the crazy Ant lady?"
He heard a whirring noise, and turned, searching the skies. Three giant ant queens emerged from the north-east, wings beating ferociously. Sitting astride the central queen was the AntAgonizer, waving her arms and crying, "Now, my children! Attack! Attack!"
Streams of acidic saliva sprayed the mutant lines, burning flesh and melting weapons. The mutants answered with missiles, but Narg shouldered his BOZAR assault rifle and shot them as they came.
"Forward, my mechanical army!" The Mechanist charged forward, his robots trundling after him, flanked by streams of Ants.
The mutants responded to the new threat, half of their forces turning their guns on the ant formation. The mechanist's robots immediately formed an armored front, covering the advance of the weaker ants behind them. Hundreds of rounds bounced uselessly off of the securitrons' armoured shells. Each robot responded in kind, blasting the mutants with minigun fire and missiles, and throwing their entrenched defense into disarray.
The distraction gave the Wastelanders a momentary reprieve, and Jackrum took full advantage of it, slipping his army north and east, finally crossing the river.
Star-Paladin Glade stood silent in the darkness of the man-sized drain pipe. The Pride had made it to Project Purity's outflow pond, and right at that moment, the men under his command were busy removing the grating which separated the pond from the Potomac River. Above his head, Glade could hear thudding Supermutant footfalls; frequent and heavy as patrols stomped back and forth across the bridge. Water lapped at his chest, and he kept his assault rifle dry and ready, pointed through the grate towards the mutants on the opposite bank of the outflow pond. Kodiak was beside him, looking grim but determined.
Glade eyed the red bandana tied around his forearm, and felt the weight of the duster Sheriff Simms had given him. He wished to god that the Lone Wanderer was there. It was true the young man hadn't always been friendly, but this was exactly his sort of mission. Glade tried to remind himself that the Lyons Pride had also been formed for missions like these, but since the Wanderer had appeared, Glade had taken it for granted that the most dangerous assignments would be taken care of by someone else. He had grown used to letting the Wanderer single-handedly solve all the wasteland problems, and he felt a sudden rush of gratitude for all the brotherhood lives the young man had saved, and a surge of shame for taking the Wanderer's willingness to sacrifice for granted.
No wonder he had been so short and terse all the time.
There was a dull metallic thud, and the Brotherhood soldiers lowered the grate into the water as quietly as they could.
"Stay low, and move slowly." Glade breathed. "Remember: we're here for Brutus. The muties outside aren't our concern. But our job will be much easier if they don't know we were ever here."
He led the way into the pond, keeping in the shadows of Project Purity's many pipes. When Project Purity had been sabotaged, Sarah Lyons had been sent all the way to Point Lookout to hunt for a new G.E.C.K.. The Wanderer had been sent after the culprits, but there was still plenty for the rest of the Brotherhood to do, materials to collect to rebuild what was lost and damaged. Glade had been sent on several high-risk missions into D.C. to find pumps, pipes, valves, and computer equipment to rebuild the project and prepare it for the G.E.C.K.'s arrival.
He had also been conscripted as manual labor for lifting and positioning said parts. He knew the layout of the new Project Purity. He had spent enough time around it for the scribes' knowledge to rub off a little. He knew which pipes led to the heart of the project, and he was aiming for a smaller pipe which led directly to the flood pools at the very heart of Project Purity.
Though he wasn't aware of it, he was heading for the same pipe the Wanderer had been in when the Enclave had first shown up more than four years beforehand.
He found the entrance grate a good four feet above the bank of the pond. With Kodiak's help, he clambered up into the entrance and began to unscrew the bolts which held the grate in place. Across the pond, dozens of mutants rushed back and forth, howling at each other. Off in the distance to the north, Glade could hear the crackle of gunfire. He hoped Sergeant Turner was holding fast, and that the battle was going well for the Wastelanders.
Down in the water below, the five Brotherhood soldiers kept their weapons trained on the opposite bank. They were hunched low, braced against the pond's lapping waves, and staying alert in case they were spotted.
The final rusty bolt came loose with a squeal which echoed down the pipe, and made Glade's heart freeze, but the sound got lost in the noise of the battle. He carefully let the grate down and stared into the darkness of the tunnel, making sure it was clear before he turned back and lay on his stomach.
Kodiak was first up, grabbing Glade's arm and pulling himself up into the tunnel. His armour was a dirty brown, stained by the river mud, but it was still far more noticeable than the brown duster Simms had lent Glade. One by one the Star Paladin pulled his small band into the darkness. He propped the grate up behind him, gave the oblivious mutant forces one last cautious look, and then led his squad into Project Purity, towards Brutus.
They were determined to cut the head off the snake or die trying.
Turner's beleaguered forces had held out for almost three hours now. Simms and the Megaton fighters had been absolutely invaluable, as had the Enclave, yet they were running low on everything. Men, weapons, and ammunition. His shoulder hurt from the constant thudding of his rifle. He had three different weapons propped beside him, and they were being reloaded by a wounded wastelanders named Mel. The man had been shot in the gut nearly a half-hour before, but was determined to be of use, so he lay against the southern barricade, reloading weapons for those who were still able to aim and fire.
Turner switched routinely between a hunting rifle, and assault rifle, and a combat shotgun. He used the assault rifle whenever the mutants decided to charge their barricade, which happened routinely every five or six minutes. The hunting rifle was for after they retreated, and the combat shotgun was for when they got too close.
The barricade had actually moved south a few meters. Enclave troopers had piled mutant bodies up during a momentary lull, and the entire line was slowly creeping closer to Project Purity. It was still of great relief when a cheer came up from the northern barricade. Turner was in the middle of aiming at a distant mutant. A bullet thumped into the body of the dead overlord he was propped against, but he ignored it and pulled the trigger. His rifle kicked against his bruised shoulder, and a red cloud erupted from the mutant's chest. It fell back, only to be propped up by one of its companions.
Turner pumped the bolt back and forth and took a second shot, listening to the cheering going on behind him. His bullet hit the mutant in the jaw, and it dropped out of sight. He flopped back against the barricade, staring northwards. The surviving wastelanders were crowding north, chattering excitedly. Turner grabbed a young blond Megaton fighter and pointed her towards the crowd. "Find out what's going on, would you, Lucy?"
"Yes Sarge!" She scampered off, keeping low to avoid the mutant brutes who were taking pot shots on the waster barricade.
Turner heard a now familiar battle cry, and turned back to the mutant lines. Several Supermutant masters were charging forward, leading another reckless charge at the wastelanders. Turner grabbed his assault rifle and opened fire. All around him fighters from Megaton and Enclave soldiers did the same. Bullets, plasma blasts, and lasers arced from the piled of mutant bodies, cutting the charge to ribbons. A hellfire trooper nearby was using an assault rifle, his incinerator having long since run out of fuel.
The mutants howled and clambered angrily towards the barricade, waving all manner of weaponry. Everything from wooden boards to bits of concrete and rebar to sledge hammers. Behind them, more mutants were approaching, with assault rifles and hunting rifles. As the initial wave fell to wastelanders bullets, they replied in kind. The air was soon thick with fire and foggy with smoke and powder.
Through the fog, Turner could make out the shape of an enormous Overlord, approaching at a brisk pace. At his side were a dozen masters, shouting instructions back and forth. Brutes circled, trying to suppress the Wasters at the barricade. Turner grabbed another loaded assault rifle from Mel and unleashed an entire clip into the overlord. The bullets kicked and sparked against the creature, and as it emerged from the smog, he realized it was covered in heavy plate armour, stripped from the sides of a vertibird and bent by hand. It was slightly more intelligent than the others, and as he met its wrathful gaze, he realized that it recognized him as the leader.
It pointed at him a moment later, waving a giant super-sledgehammer.
He handed the empty rifle to Mel and traded it for a loaded Chinese assault rifle. The line of mutants advanced, growing larger and more menacing with every step. Turner unloaded the Chinese assault rifle at the overlord's head, but it raised its arm and shielded its face. A few bullets slipped through cracks in its armor, but not enough. It pressed forward even more rapidly than before.
Turner grabbed his combat shotgun and began to blast away at it. Shot by shot pellets splashed against the thick armor plates. One round caught the bindings which fastened one of its shoulder pads and the armour piece came loose.
Though most of its comrades had fallen to wasteland bullets, the overlord was at the barricade, staring angrily down at Turner. Behind it, he could see more of the armoured overlords approaching through the fog, leading a few dozen more mutants. The battle was far from over. Turner raised his combat shotgun, realizing he had one last clear shot at the monster's face, and pulled the trigger.
Click.
The weapon's drum was empty. With a cold shock, Turner realized that he had already fired twelve shots.
The mutant bellowed in rage and swung down with its hammer-
An armoured fist caught the weapon just below the head.
The Chosen one was standing behind Turner, winding up with his other hand. "Hey ugly!" the power-armoured giant slammed his curled fist into the overlord's face. His power-fist's kinetic release increased the power of the blow by tenfold, and the overlord's face caved inwards. It dropped to the ground, stone dead.
The Chosen one stepped over Turner, and vaulted the barricade, charging at the mutant line, and swinging his liberated supersledge back and forth. To Turner's everlasting horror, he was followed by a wave of skittering, fire-breathing ants, and heavy, trundling robots. The insects skittered right over him, their sharp, jointed legs digging into his abdomen. He curled up against the barricade, half-sure he'd gone mad.
He could hear the joyful cheering of wastelanders, and the pattering of dozens upon dozens of feet. A pair of hands grabbed the collar of his combat armour and dragged him to safety.
"Turner! Sergeant Turner! Stand up, kid! Pull yourself together! It's alright! Everything's alright!"
Recognizing the gravelly voice, and the smell of rancid cigarette smoke, Turner opened his eyes. A hundred angry wastelanders were streaming past him towards Project Purity and Rivet City.
Commander Jackrum was kneeling at his side, one arm around his back, propping him up, the other on his shoulder.
Jackrum gave him a gentle shake. "You alright kid?"
"Sarge?" Turner blinked in disbelief. "Sarge?"
"It's commander, kid. You're the Sergeant now, remember?" the Commander laughed and shook his head, giving his protégé an affectionate punch to the shoulder. "You made it through, kid! You damned well made it through!"
"What's happening, sarge?" Turner asked weakly. He felt tired and light-headed. Giddiness swept through him as he watched the collected forces of the capital wasteland surge past, bringing all their righteous wrath with them. "There were ants and robots."
"We got some…unconventional backup." Jackrum pointed up to the sky, where a trio of giant ant queens were circling, spitting acid and carrying dozens of wastelanders towards rivet city's flight deck.
Turner felt a great sense of relief overwhelm him. His aching shoulder, and sore joints all seemed to pile up as the adrenaline faded. Suddenly every movement was an exercise in pain tolerance. He hissed with every motion, and tottered on weak, aching knees.
"Whoa. Easy kid." Jackrum said, grabbing him by the shoulders to steady him. "Take it easy."
"Christopher!" Turner heard a familiar voice shouted his first name, and he barely had time to turn around before he was engulfed by a blurry enclave uniform. Brown hair filled his nose and mouth as Enclave Lieutenant Sally Campbell, his girlfriend, caught him in a joyful embrace. She grinned up at him, and he leaned down to give her a passionate kiss, pressing their mouths together.
"Blech." She smacked her lips. "You taste like gunpowder."
"Fuckin' kids." Jackrum murmured, shaking his head. Sally spotted the old commander and turned bright red, recalling the moment back in Evergreen Mills when he had barged in on the couple during one of their trysts. Turner blinked down at her adoringly, and tried his best to smile, but his body was clocking out. Shock, stress and adrenaline were presenting their bills. All he wanted to do was sleep.
"Battle's still going, kid." "Jackrum prompted. "Here, Campbell, give me a hand!" together they marched him forward, dragging him along with the flow of the wastelanders as they poured towards Rivet City, and the concrete fortress of Project Purity.
Glade kicked the grate out and leapt down into the flood pool with a splash. Darkness reigned. The light, where it shone at all, was dim. It shone down several floors from the surface grates in pale blue beams. The bottom floor of Project purity's sub-basement was cold and damp. Dust hung heavy in the air, bringing with it a putrid chemical smell. Muffled through layers of concrete and earth, he could hear the crackle of gunfire and the faded shouts of angry mutants from the battle so far above their heads.
The room was empty, save for the two turbid flood pools. It was much larger than Glade remembered, and quite long. The concrete walls were in almost complete shadow. Light shone through two doorways, each of them leading to other parts of the basement complex.
In the center of the floor, two rusted steel I-beams had been driven at odd angles deep into the ground. Their sharp points jutted eight feet into the air. Four chains hung off of them, and each had a shackle on its end. Beside the apparatus was a little medical cart with an empty syringe.
Glade's squad followed, and as the last warrior landed, they formed up, each one's rifle pointing to a different section of the room.
"We're in." Kodiak said, his voice echoing far too loudly in the muffled silence. "What now?"
A baritone voice echoed in the darkness, deep and ominous. "Assassins and thieves. Is this what the Brotherhood has been reduced to?"
Glade shared a worried glance with Kodiak. "Hello? Who are you?"
"Brutus." The voice answered. "I knew Jackrum would send you. Such a waste. Such an utter waste."
"Show yourself!"
The room echoed with snide laughter. "Do you think me as simple as that? If I reveal myself, you'll simply shoot me. That is your mission, yes? What a desperate gambit."
Glade began to move slowly, towards the edge of the pool. His team formed up behind him, rifles trained in every direction.
"What is your name, Brotherhood?"
"Star Paladin Glade."
"Glade. I've been dealing with human beings a long, long time. And the one thing I've realized is just what filthy, crawling, pathetic creatures you are. You eat, you drink, you fuck, you kill and you die. No vision. No morals, and no future."
Glade slipped out of the pool and kneeled between the two steel beams. Kodiak and the others followed.
"You've had your time. Humanity destroyed this world, it is true, but you also created its salvation. The FEV virus. You gave the world the Supermutants. A purer race. Superior in every way."
"Dumber, on average." Glade pointed out, rising to his feet.
"Yet we drove you to the very edge of the wasteland." Brutus sounded ever so slightly annoyed.
"And here we are, back again." He moved forward, comforted by the brothers at his shoulders. They scanned the darkness, searching for an outline, but the hostile shadows refused to give up their secrets.
"Even if you win this skirmish, do you think it an achievement? You've exhausted your forces to win this one battle. I have legions waiting in the ruins of D.C.. Hundreds upon hundreds of mutants. And hundreds more than that. This war has barely begun and out of pure desperation you've already sold your souls to the enclave. To old technology and old ideals. I'm here to offer the world something better. Something new. Something… pure. Shall I show you the future?"
Glade heard a thump behind him, and a reptilian hiss. He snapped around, rifle at the ready, as did his brothers. A tall, lanky abomination stood between the rusted posts, silhouetted against a beam of light. Its veins pulsed, tracing glowing green lines across its body. It was navy blue in color, with thin black stripes arcing over its shoulders and down its flanks. The creature was stark naked save for a simple leather loincloth, and beneath its navy skin Glade could see long, tough muscles. Each finger ended in a veiny clawed hand. It was hairless, but small horns ran along either side of its head, guiding the gaze down to its angry brows and glowing green eyes.
"I'd love to introduce you two, Glade," Brutus' voice echoed. "But I believe you've already met the fabled Lone Wanderer from Vault 101."
Glade's heart jumped into his throat as the monster's glowing green gaze snapped to his. The alien eyes narrowed. He searched its face for something familiar, but whatever Brutus had injected the Wanderer with, it had altered him completely. There was nothing left but that hostile, skeletal glare.
"Jason!" Brutus barked.
The abomination's head twitched to the side, responding to the voice of authority. It clicked several times, as if sounding out its supermutant master.
"These men have invaded your home. They've come to murder me. They've come to stop us." The beast hissed, glowing eyes narrowing as it gazed upon the six brotherhood soldiers. It crouched slightly, tensed like a savage feline, awaiting its master's order.
"But we won't let them, will we, Jason?"
The creature hissed again, flexing its claws, and eyeing the Brotherhood intruders, cataloguing faces, weapons, and locations, just as the Lone Wanderer used to do.
Brutus let out a soft laugh. "Jason, kill!"
God this chapter feels rushed and lackluster to me, but at least it's getting finished. This Story Will. Be. Finished.
If you'll recall the very opening of this story started in medias res. what you see before you is the conclusion of that scene.
I realize that it's a little late in the story for Turner's girlfriend to be introduced like she's suddenly a major character, but she is certainly important to Turner, and my muse demanded that the stakes be raised just a little higher. It's been a long time since I posted chapter 30, but that's when she was introduced. I also really like Turner, and I wanted him to have a happy ending. Of sorts.
It has been what, five or six months since I was last updating regularly? But I figured out the problem after all this time: the pond dried up. I got tired of working in the capital wasteland. The muse was spent. I needed a new story with different characters who solve their problems in different ways. I needed some distance from this universe for a while. There was a time when I never thought I'd say that, but I just did. I got tired of Fallout.
And now I'm back. I'm going to finish this story, and then pause for a little while to make progress on another story in a different fandom.
But one day in the near future, you'll see a new story appear called Fallout: Children of the Atom.