Somewhere in Northern Tundra
Originium infected Tundra
Two Green Coats reluctantly dragged the lifeless body of a bulky ursan in a dark black coat adorned with fine silvery and golden threats. The soldiers struggled as they avoided the jagged Originium crystals on the ground.
With a grunt, they heaved the body to the edge of the mass grave, where it slumped onto the ground just by the edge. The veteran soldier after finished catching his breath, walked over to the corpse, for a moment he looked at it with expression of disgust not at the corpse, but to the person who it was. He gave the body a sharp kick, sending it tumbling into the pile of bodies below.
The veteran adjusted his hazard mask, as he calmed his breathing. "(Ursus) That should be the last of these infected patrol's cursed bodies," he spat.
The younger soldier, still catching his breath. "(Ursus) So much for reinforcements," he muttered, peering into the mass grave as he pressed his hazard mask tighter against his face. "(Ursus) While the rest of the regiment is hunting that savage, we're stuck burying these armed serfs,".
The soldier shivered as a freezing wind whipped past his back. "(Ursus) If I knew I'd be back patrolling these damned slums, I would've stayed with captain Mikhailov on the city plates"
The veteran waved off the complaint with a tired hand. "(Ursus) Complain all you want, but if the sergeant catches wind of it, say bye to your weekly booze." He paused, observing the scene. The still corpses, stacked upon one another, ravaged by the cold weather, stirred old memories. He quickly pushed them aside, straightening his posture.
"(Ursus) The weekly booze is a privilege, you know. These infected patrol sods has to buy theirs."
The younger soldier tilts his head, "(Ursus) Really? Where would they even buy it? From their quartermaster?".
The veteran nodded in approval. "(Ursus) Quartermaster? Hah! Those dogs don't have anything like that. They buy it off any sober soul they can find." He said with confidence.
"(Ursus) Seriously?" The younger soldier blinked in surprise, pondering it for a moment. "(Ursus) How much do they pay per bottle?"
The veteran voice turned sour. "(Ursus) Oi, don't get any ideas, you mutt." he hit the back of soldier's head in annoyance. The soldier quickly recoils and holds back of his head as the veteran mutters "(Ursus) Youth these days, up to no good"
With that veteran starts chanting Ursus Army's oath as other soldier reluctantly joins him in, the two continued their march through the snow as their speech gradually faded away.
Once the soldiers had vanished into the distance, Lucky Six stirred beneath the frozen mound of corpses. With a grunt, he pushed aside the lifeless body of an infected patrol soldier, shaking off the snow that had buried him, yawning lazily.
"Took their damn sweet time" he muttered, his tone casual as if waking from a nap rather than from beneath the dead. He walked to the newest arrival.
"Well, howdy there, fella." He pushed the body onto its back with his boot, revealing its serene face. "Thought they'd send you off with the fancy greens. With all the fancy medals you had" Lucky Six's eyes scanned the officer's coat, noting the jagged tears across the chest. "Guess you weren't so lucky, huh? Shit... looks like they picked you clean of your honors too."
With a sigh, Lucky Six stood and walked to a patch of corpses. Digging beneath a hidden spot in the pile, he found what he was looking for, a bag that clinked softly as he pulled it free. Opening it, he pulled out a bottle of wine. He poured some onto the dead man's chest. Lucky Six paused just before taking a long swig.
"Ah, right. You people make toasts," he said, clearing his throat it came out as if mimicking a cordial sound than a saying a word.
"(Ursus imitation) For our health," he said, then drank from the bottle.
Sitting atop the pile of frozen bodies, he sighed contentedly.
"Good taste. Hope your men enjoyed it too,"
"Thanks to you, I've got myself a drink. Been parched these last few weeks, you dig?"
He sighed again, staring into the distance.
"You know, fella, when your men stormed my hideout, I was a bit worried. Thought that might be the end of old Lucky Six. But then I took two steps down and your base? Heh, who knew it was so badly guarded?"
"Could've let me slip out with a few bottles. No harm done. But no, you had to play hero, didn't you?" he said as he poked the corpse with his boots.
Feigning innocence, he raised his hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm the scoundrel here, right? But I already won, so cut the nagging. You sound like a prospector who lost his last scrap."
Taking another swig, Lucky Six drained the bottle and stood, adjusting his helmet. "Welp, I'd best be on my way, thanks to your map." He tapped a folded piece of parchment tucked into his coat. "Enjoy that last drink, would you?" He tossed the bag, now containing the last bottle of wine, at the corpse's feet.
He then fished out the rest of his gear, a heavy crossbow and a handmade pulley system. Though calling it a crossbow seemed disingenuous, its pull weight rested around 450 to 500 pounds, capable of firing arrow-sized bolts at the speed of an automatic crossbow. It was more like a smaller version of the scorpion from the historical texts about the Roman Empire.
Lucky Six braced himself and used the pulley to draw back the heavy string, he pushed all his strength into the mechanism.
"Saw one of your men pull this thing back like it was nothing," he said idly to the corpse.
"What are they feeding you people?" The dead man, of course, didn't respond. "Right," Lucky Six paused for a moment, continuing to stare at it, he let's out a sigh, slotting a javelin-sized bolt into the weapon's bolt rest with a satisfying click.
He exhaled sharply, then slapped his cheek through his helmet, snapping himself back to reality. For a moment, he stared down at the corpses in silence once again. "Jesus Christ," he blurted out. "Talking to corpses now... hell of a way to keep myself company." With that, he slung the armed crossbow over his shoulder and turned his back on the mass grave.
He glanced around. "Strange, feels like I'm being watched." He stared at a distant tree, something about it felt off to him, though he couldn't put his finger on it. As he continued scanning for anything out of place, a distant bird croaked, immediately drawing his attention.
"Well, damn. Thought the wildlife was extinct."
He turned back to the dead man. Now clearheaded, he picked up the wine bottle lying beside him as he thought 'He don't need it'. pulling himself out of the mass grave. Following the tracks left by the two Green Coats, Lucky Six already had a plan to leave this frozen hellscape just as snow started to fall.
Unknown to him, someone was watching from the trees. Their form was invisible, except for the faint fracturing of light around them. Slowly, the invisibility flickered out, revealing a pair of Black Coats as they radioed into their headsets.
Lucky Six arrived at the unassuming, dilapidated ruin. The place looked entirely ordinary from the outside. He slipped through one of the broken egress windows, landing softly inside and making his way toward a stolen truck parked in the shadows.
"Hello, my ticket out of this hellhole" he muttered under his breath.
Climbing into the cargo hold, he quickly stowed a bottle of wine before grabbing an automatic crossbow and a few extra magazines. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and began running through his checklist.
"Rations?" He glanced at a crate filled with oat bars. "Check."
"Local currency?" He looked at a rolled up coat in the corner, stuffed with bills. "Check."
"Ammo?" His eyes flicked to several barrels overflowing with crossbow bolts. "Plenty."
"Extra weapons?" He surveyed the assortment of arms in the back of the truck, enough to arm a squad. "More than enough."
All that was missing was fuel. And today was the day where he would go out his way to pick some, by provoking the Green Coats into a full alert. Not like he is gonna stay here anymore.
He folded the paper and putted away in his vest, then he climbed out of the building as snow began to fall heavily. He set off toward the nearest army base as snow storm started.
As the snow storm raged, Lucky Six emerged from the storm as he crouched through it as sets of jerry can was visibly strapped to his backpack. He finally neared a ruined building. he began removing debris, piece by piece, clearing the way. With the last one, he pulls the garage door open.
'261 miles into south east and I should be free at last.' he thought. 'The fact that there was literally nothing but military outposts for 361 miles spoke how deep in the hot zone I am in. Honestly why there was so many distant military outposts? Distance between them seems to be 50 to 80 miles atleast.' He shoved the thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.
He enters the cargo hold and places the jerry cans inside. Taking one with him he dismounts and heads for the fuel tank, but something caught his eye. Dropping to the ground and saw, a device, strapped tightly to the undercarriage. Immediately connecting the dots , Lucky Six bolted out of the building as truck erupted in a fireball behind him, the shockwave knocking him into the ground.
Just as he recovered from the explosion barrage of heavy bolts rains around him. One going through the thick hide cloak and lodged it self into his arm. Cursing himself for missing the warning signs, Lucky Six ripped an oversized bolt off from his arm and fired off a .45 ACP in the direction of the trajectory of bolts, as he took cover.
Pressing his back against the wall, his bionic eyes caught glint of movement flicker by fire light, shifting in the room.
'Stealth boy. Of course they will have it. They would have it! Why didn't I think there won't be such thing here. They have magic for god's sake Six!' Lucky Six quickly fired at the glimmering shape. A figure clad in black recoiled against the wall as it get's painted red, its invisibility cloak falling away to reveal the assassin beneath.
Rest of the black coats in invisibility cursus in Ursus profanities, one of them shouts "(Ursus) Anti-Illusion arts? Brass didn't say anything about it!", another one replies "(Ursus) It's damn caster, take cover you dimwits!" as they pull away their invisibility cloaks and takes cover behind the smoldering remains of the truck as they ready their crossbows, while more pours through the garage door.
Lucky Six pulls the pin out of Ursus grenade and tosses it behind the truck. The Black Coats noticing the tumbling grenade.
"(Ursus) GRENADE!" one of them shouted, and the squad scrambled, diving for cover.
As the explosion went off, Lucky Six dashes toward the truck and readies his saber. Cutting down nearest Black Coat in one clean swipe , continuing to move, Seeing Lucky Six charge remaining the remaining Black Coats opened fire, their automatic crossbows sending a hail of bolts his way. Their frantic aim meant most shots missed, and those that did hit seemed to do little to stop his relentless advance as it gets lodged on his coat.
Lucky Six zeroed in on the squad leader at the center, swinging his sabers at nearby Black Coats. The leader, sensing the danger, lifted his crossbow to block the blow, but Lucky Six feinted at the last second. With a sudden downward slash, he staggered the squad leader. Lucky Six then grabs him by his collars and drove his saber into the squad leader's throat.
The sight of their fallen leader sent panic through the ranks. One of the overwhelmed rookies dropped his weapon and ran as he cried out.
"(Ursus) THERE IS NO HOPE IN THIS" seeing him run, rest of the ranks falls into hysteria "(Ursus) Ain't worth the money, I'm out." another one joins.
"(Ursus) Hold your, ground damn you!" spats the veteran black coat. The seasoned Black Coats quickly moved to stem the chaos. They rallied the panicked men, keeping the squad from disintegrating into a full rout. The renewed Black Coat squad snapped fresh magazines into their weapons, while a few unsheathed sabers, preparing to engage Lucky Six. However, Lucky Six already scaled the smoldering wreckage of the truck and was climbing over the blown up roof.
Bolts whizzed past Lucky Six as he dangled on the edge. With a grunt he pulled himself up, disappearing over the top just as another volley hit the spot where he had been moments before.
On the derelict building's remaining top floor.
Green coat in clad in heavy armor and a visor helmet, glances sideways at the other one. "(Ursus) So, you're really not going to shoot?" he says as his heavy crossbow rested pointing toward Lucky Six crawling out of the building.
"(Ursus) Tsar no, you go first Feodor." the Gregor replies in protest.
"(Ursus) Come on, look what happened to poor Ivan there," replies the Feodor as gestures toward another green coat sprawled on the ground, his visor shattered and blood pooling around him.
"(Ursus) Exactly why you should take the first shot. You won the last card game, remember?" Gregor insists,
"(Ursus) Ha! I'd just end up like him! That savage can clearly cast his witchcraft" Feodor scoffs.
"(Ursus) So what? You'd rather sit here and wait for brass to execute us for abandoning our mission?" Gregor says.
Feodor leans closer to a broken hole in the wall, squinting into the building. "(Ursus) Hold on… wait are those Infected Patrol units running?" Feodor says
Gregor joins him at the broken wall, eyes narrowing behind his visors as he observes the retreating figures. "Those damn cowards! They drag us into this mess and bolt as soon as it gets tough!" he snarls
Gregor and Feodor looks to each other. "(Ursus) Death to cowards?" "(Ursus) Death to cowards" they nod to each other.
Feodor taps radio on his vest "(Ursus) 5-12 here, Executing deserting Infected Patrol units. Over"
They then aims their heavy crossbows at the fleeing Infected Patrol units and fires on them.
Just as Lucky Six got up on his feet, black forms appeared, soaring through the snowstorm. Lucky Six quickly drew his pistol, aiming at them. His first shot struck between the armor plates of the lead assault trooper's chest, the impact knocking the soldier unconscious mid-air, sending him plummeting to the ground below. The second and third rounds hit the helmets of two others, although they didn't penetrate the metal, the impact left them dazed, sending them off course landing in wrong place. The fourth bullet pierced straight through the visor of another trooper, who hit the ground face-first. Lucky Six unloaded the rest of his magazine, downing a sixth trooper as he struggled to stabilize his jetpack, which sent him soaring into the sky.
Four remaining Green Coat assault troopers touched down, drawing their axes as they charged at him. The first one to reach swung his axe in a wide arc, but Lucky Six activated a dose of his GRX implant, sidestepping the blow and shoving the trooper away with his shoulder. The second trooper followed up with a more controlled strike, which Lucky Six parried with ease, then drove his boot into the attacker's chest kicking him off the platform. Without missing a beat, a third trooper swung his axe, the blade embedding in Lucky Six's thick hide coat. Lucky Six headbutted the third trooper's helmet, leaving the attacker stunned as he staggered backward. Lucky Six plunges his saber into fourth one's stomach and pulls it out.
The first attacker, regaining his balance, lunged forward to tackle him, but Lucky Six was quicker. He locked the trooper in a chokehold, struggling as the trooper resisted violently. Suddenly, a barrage of heavy bolts rained down from a neighboring building, hitting both Lucky Six and the trooper he grappled. Feeling the trooper go limp, Lucky Six quickly searched him, grabbing the first thing he found, and goes to jump off the floor.
The other stunned trooper recovered quickly, chasing after him and grabbing him at the edge of the roof. Realizing someone had grabbed him, Lucky Six instantly flipped the trooper over the edge with a suplex before jumping after him. The trooper hit the ground with his back, and before he could recover, Lucky Six landed on him with an elbow drop, rendering him unconscious. Lucky Six continued his run through the alleyways.
He moved quickly through the maze of snow-covered alleyways. Just as he rounded a corner, the pommel of an axe smashed into the side of his head. Stumbling, he tried to regain his balance, only to feel a blade slice into his arm, followed by another punch to his face. The punch, however, seemed to snap him back into focus as Lucky Six activated another dose of GRX. He grappled the attacking trooper, slamming the soldier's head into a nearby wall. Dropping the unconscious body, Lucky Six ducked under another axe swing. Seeing an opening, he pommeled the next attacker in the windpipe, rendering him unconscious as well.
Taking a deep breath, he looked at the two unconscious men, feeling the blood from his head seeping behind his helmet. They were heavily armed and dressed differently. They were part of the main force, not like the common soldiers seen in recon or forward units. They usually stand next to higher-ranking officers and don't move into the ruins that much. 'Guess they changed up their tactics,' he thought. If he had to fight five or six of these soldiers at the same time, he wasn't sure if GRX could save him or not.
He glanced up at the sound of jetpacks filling the air. More troopers soared overhead, but none seemed to have spotted him yet. Going through the pouch he had taken earlier, Lucky Six found a vial of medicine. Though he couldn't recognize it, it seemed new. He scanned it with his Pip-Boy, which displayed the chemical structure with many parts missing. It looked mostly like a painkiller, so he shrugged and injected it, following it up with a stimpack.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. Without thinking, Lucky Six tossed an Ursus grenade into the alley he had just come from, the explosion echoing behind him as he continued his escape, as he did so his movements felt more graceful and soft. Looking at his hand move as if it was leaving after image he let out a sigh "Great," he muttered. "Psychedelic, too."
He made his way to a part of the alley filled with more originium spikes than usual. Most Green and Black coats avoided navigating these spiked areas, so that was his plan for getting out. As he stepped onto the street, a bright spotlight suddenly illuminated him. Squinting against the harsh light, he took a step back, trying to adjust to the scene. Heavily armored troopers surrounded him from every angle, each one pointing a heavy crossbow directly at him.
For a moment, everything stood still. Lucky Six didn't move, scanning for any opportunity to escape this standoff. So far, they hadn't turned him into swiss cheese yet. Then, from behind the line of soldiers, a man draped in a long, decorated green and white coat with medals gleaming on his chest appeared. Three others, similarly dressed but with fewer decorations, flanked him. The man's pompous walk practically screamed arrogance. If it weren't for the hazard mask covering his face, Lucky Six would've sworn the man was smirking, too.
With exaggerated flair, the officer struck a pose and spoke as if he were addressing a crowd.
"(Ursus) Soldiers of Ursus, warriors of the Territorial Defense Brigade, I, Lieutenant Colonel Andrei Vasilievich, stand before you not as a mere man, but as the embodiment of duty, honor, and the iron will of our great Empire!"
Lieutenant Colonel in a bombastic voice talks through his hazard mask as he walks around. Lucky Six glances at the troopers, their finger was twitchy. 'Guess the speech isn't hitting home for them either'. Lucky Six then thought how far he could move before getting impaled by the heavy crossbows. 'Maybe five or six steps?'
"(Ursus) The infamous fugitive, The savage, The cultist. Now cowers in our grasp. We, I, and you, my faithful soldiers have cornered this vile serpent! Remember my man! no matter how treacherous, how devious, they are. No one can't escape the might of the Ursus Empire when its gaze is fixed upon them!"
Lucky Six continued to glance around. 'Huh no ballista emplacements? Guess I am not gonna be completely dead yet' he also wondered if there was camera recording this as the Lieutenant Colonel continued his bravado speech.
"(Ursus) This victory was not achieved without sacrifices! Let us not forget that many that was murdered by this devil. Those of who fell we must remember are. Lt. Todos Savelev, Lt. Klavdii Karimov, Sarg. Kolenka Konstantinov-"
Lucky Six raised an eyebrow. 'Those are names... Is he naming who can shoot me? Jesus Christ. Does having high rank puts something in your drinking water or something? I think I remember watching the broadcast as General Oliver was still giving a speech when he was being de-headed infront of a hoover dam by Lanius. Then Lanius gave his bullshit speech about west and east, bull and bear to the camera. Guess everything goes back to politics... huh those were the days. Wonder what's going on at now Dome Mountain days.' Lucky Six reminisces about past.
While the Lieutenant Colonel was still calling out the twenty fourth name Lucky Six's eyes caught a originium spike not so far away. Although it looked dormant, deep inside it had a faint red shimmer. An a idea came to his mind. Lieutenant Colonel continued to name seventy or so more names.
"(Ursus) And let it be known, The Territorial Defense Brigade. Our brigade will always triumph over those who dare oppose the Ursus Empire and our exalted Tsar. The traitors will tremble at the mere mention of our name. That no army , no force, no rebellion will stand against the might of Ursus!"
Lucky Six zones back in as he notices cues of ending speech. Lieutenant Colonel drew his saber in dramatic flair. "(Ursus) Soldiers!" At the sound of his command, the soldiers snapped to attention, their focus shifting back to his voice. The Lieutenant Colonel raised his saber high. "Ready!" At the command word, Lucky Six activated a dosage of Implant GRX. If only he had known what mixing Turbo and originium medicine next to soon to be active originium zone would do to him, he might have let them shoot him. But, alas, he continued defying death.
With the world slowing to a crawl, Lucky Six broke into a sprint, pulling a grenade from his belt and yanking the pin free. Every step felt like he was gliding through the air. Crossbow bolts whizzed past one or two thudding into his back, but it didn't stop him. He reached the originium spike, fired a round from his revolver, cracking its surface, and jammed the grenade into the fresh opening.
The green coats watched, confusion spreading through their ranks. Those stationed behind Lucky Six dashed after him, while those in the firing lane either shot prematurely or stood frozen, waiting for a signal to fire from command. The Lieutenant Colonel's bombastic speech died on his lips as the madman carried out his insane plan. Realization hit just as the grenade nestled into the spike. The Lieutenant Colonel panicked, shouting, "Fire! FIRE!" in quick succession.
Bolts rained down, but it was too late. Lucky Six ducked as he grappled the nearing soldier as originium crystal erupts into a the explosive cascade, sending out shards everywhere as originium dust engulfs everyone at the scene.
As Lucky Six cough as he recovers from a ranging on his head, the explosion went off successfully, As he looked around his surroundings he felt different. Orange stage curtains opens as the stage unfolded infront of him. The moon casts a pale glow across the stage. He takes a steps forward, only for him to walk in beat with unknown rhythm.
Shadows move in the distance, circling closer with uncertainty.
They are the others, the ones who think they know how to walk on this stage.
But here, under the cold gaze of the stars, they are were mere pretenders.
Lucky Six moves without hesitation, his steps are precise.
He will be dancing, because he does not try.
He is the dancer, the one true dancer in this stage.
So he dances. And dances, and dances.
They attempt to join him, stepping into the circle, their movements are jerky, disjointed.
They stumble forward, pushing themselves into the rhythm, into each other.
Trying to find a place within the circle, but they are out of sync. And so they do not belong on the stage like him.
One by one, they all disappear into to moon light. For they are not dancing.
More and more come in waves. More and more tries to dance. And just like their predecessors they fail.
He dances on. Dancing and nimble he was.
Their attempts to match him grow more frantic, more desperate.
They try to mirror his grace, but their forms betray them. Their bodies are too rigid, too slow to follow the intricate movements.
There is no malice in his movement, no arrogance in the way he glides past them.
Lucky Six does not look at them with disdain. He dances because that is what he knows
Because this is the only thing he understands, the only thing he's ever been good at.
There is no joy in it, no passion. His expression is hollow, his eyes ever so distant.
As if the very act of dancing has lost its meaning to him. And yet, he cannot stop.
The others falter. They stumble, their feet dragging, their arms flailing, trying to catch the rhythm that is already far beyond their reach.
They move with frustration, their faces contorting in confusion and anger, trying to make sense of why they cannot keep up.
They want to be a center of this stage. But they cannot. Not with him that is.
His feet glide over the ground, never missing a beat, never losing the flow.
It is not that he dances better than them. It is that he is the dance.
He embodies every step, every turn, with a completeness they will never grasp.
Because He, He alone threated a path of dance and they only seen small glimpses of it.
They grow tired, their movements slowing, their clumsy attempts becoming more erratic, more hopeless.
He does not dance for them. He does not dance to prove them wrong. He dances because...
He dances because...
He looks up and sees that. The crescent moon was not what it was. It was crystal radiating it's light unto him.
The lights were out of his reach. He cannot grasp or feel it.
But he knows that crystal stares into him. And he knows it favors him.
So he dances. Because that is only thing he knows.
And in the end, it is enough.
Lucky Six came back reality. He felt like as if his entire body was burning in pain as every blood vessel, and every neuron, flaring up and screaming at him on a micro-organism scale. A mere moment of existence felt excruciating long and painful, as he was unable to scream, unable to move. The loss of control of his body equally dreadful as he was there with no control over anything.
His eyes darted around, but everything was a blurry mess. He had to stare at what he can guess as his hands, trying to focus through the throbbing pain for what felt like an eternity before they finally it started to look like hands. A dark blob with five appendages and that was all the reassurance he needed. He then turned his head as it strained from every muscle imaginable. Once he looked at his torso he saw that his body was a wreck. His ranger armor now resembled a pincushion, littered with bolts that stuck out like the quills of a hedgehog, as if it was a animal's fur of sorts.
After what felt like an eternity of skull splitting migraine later, he sensed blood running behind his skull, dripping into his back of his throat only to be consumed and turned into nutrients, which then became more blood, only for the cycle to repeat. He felt delirious for a moment, then sad, and he felt confused not sure what to feel and what to do only for it to loop back again.
For what felt like another eternity in this hell he calls his body. His senses started to clear as the bolts in his armor no longer seemed infinite, but they were still too many. His body was still bleeding, his helmet sticky with the mingled stench of his own blood and the blood of others. With a hand that trembled violently, he fumbled through his vest, retrieving an oat bar and with another hand he pulled his helmet loose, shoving the bar into his mouth. Barely chewing on it he gobbled it up. Then he drove his hand into his vest and pulled out a stimpack. With no hesitation he jabbed it into his side as the needle punctured through his clothes into his skin. And with that a he felt bit of relief, not that stimpack made him feel that no, no. He felt relief because he survived.
He with what little strength he had brought up his Pip-Boy. Scrolling through his health status. Everything was in critical condition. He was barely above being dead.
"But..." he thought. "At least I lived."
He scrolled through the critical alerts, his eyes stopped when he saw the implant GRX was still pumping turbo. How long had it been active? What damage had it done? He didn't know. With a weak flick of his wrist, he shut it off, his body immediately slumping with the withdrawal.
This whole time, his brain had been flooding him with turbo into his system. How long had it been turned on? He wasn't even what the aftermath will be. With a flick, he turned it off.
Lucky Six exhaled slowly, sinking back. He turned his gaze away from the harsh orange glow of his Pip-Boy, eyes settling on the blurry messy shapes of a landscape beyond as he dazed.
...
He opened his eyes again, a horrible migraine assaulting his mind. 'Where am I?' His vision was swarmed by a blurry haze, a painful mess that made even thinking feel like a weight pressing down on him. Slowly, formless shapes began to take shape around him. He focused harder, squinting through the fog of his mind, and realized.
... I'm in a car? Who was driving?
Lucky Six turned his head away from the harsh daylight from the windshield. Through the broken visor of his helmet he saw no one was there. Confusion twisted in his gut. He glanced to his left. A window. He looked ahead and spotted the steering wheel.
A groan escaped his lips as realization washed over him.
"Of course it's me."
His dry mouth barely formed the words. Somehow, he was lucky enough to come to his senses before slamming into a tree. Fortune smiled on him… for now. Lucky Six stomped down on the brake pedal or what he hoped was the brake. The vehicle barely reacted. He slammed his foot on the other pedal. No response.
His gaze drifted to the back seat, where numerous ballista bolts jutted out.
Guess that explains it
The migraine still throbbed on his side, but its grip was loosening. Lucky Six focused on the path ahead, a vast expanse of unbroken flatlands stretching before him. He needed to circle around the nearby forest and wait for the car's fuel to run out. He steered toward a dark, jagged spot in the distance as he assumed that was a forest. As he navigated the treacherous terrain. Just then, from the corner of his eye, a figure emerged. 'Scotoma'
Without thinking, Lucky Six activated his GRX implant. The surge of chem coursed through him and it felt like his brain was tearing itself apart again. But what troubled him more than his deteriorating condition was the sight before him.
A young woman stood there, dressed in modest clothes and clutching a basket. Black antlers adorned her head, and her white-gray hair flowed with the wind. But what struck him most was her expression frozen in terror as she stared at the vehicle barreling toward her.
Lucky Six's mind raced. In his current state, he wouldn't survive a crash, so rationally, he should just let it happen. End the guilt. Run her over. But another voice inside him urged him to steer as hard he can. As it was already steering the vehicle away.
Even if he turned the wheel as hard as he could, the car would slide across the frozen ground. It wouldn't matter.
His gaze caught on a tree looming some steps to right front of her. That new information however brought possibilities.
Did he deserve to live?
Yes, he should live. That was the essence of existence, all living things should and always must preserve it's life. Such was natural law.
But did he deserve to live more than the bystander infront of him?
... All he had done since arriving was kill and kill because he wanted live. Besides, he was tired. Everything tired him, he was getting too old for this mess of a life. Maybe it was time to do the right thing and lay him self to a rest. He fought on, he fought hard but for naught.
...
...
Yeah, doing the right thing. Cogito, ergo sum
Lucky Six took the steering wheel, accounting for the vehicle's slide as he drove straight into the tree. The vehicle narrowly missed the bystander and it turned away as it pivoted around the tree, The impact launched Lucky Six from his seat, crashing into the frozen surface with a sickening thud. He bounced against the hard ground as bolts and shrapnel dug deeper into his flesh, some scattering across the ground, while others lodged themselves further inside, his life flashing before his eyes with each roll.
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and every highway
He remembered waking up in Goodsprings, his first memories forming as he fended off the convicts. Reading magazine of robotics in Primm, rigging his first Protectron to defend the town. Winning drinking challenge from Cassandra at the Mojave Outpost. Surviving a nightkin in the building by sheer nerve. Limping out of mountain passes with his legs barely intact, and finally, Watching Benny die in his suite as he felt empty inside.
And more, much more than this
I did it my way
He saw himself with Cass, gunning down the Crimson Caravan. Talking sense or trying to do so with the Brotherhood with Veronica. The wild highs with Jack, demanding stimpaks as they drifted away into a laughter. How he lost himself in his first chivalry novel, escaping the harsh realities in the colorful pages.
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
Him getting almost lobotomized by Think Tank, Climbing up to black mountain after the supermutant warned him. Getting chased across the quarry by a deathclaws. Getting ambushed by white legs. Entering the divide even after all the warning signs, never turning away.
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
Cleaning up the Think tank and letting Followers explore it, Teaming with Raul , wearing a vaqueros outfits as they turned a fiends into a swish cheese. Presenting a Veronica a dress from a Sierra madre. Getting one last drinks with Cass as they departed. Watching divide collapse as ED-E sacrifice itself for greater good. And his own retreat from the Mojave as chaos erupted, leaving with the Followers and Great Khans at his side.
I loved I laughed and cried
And did it my way
Yes, it was my way
And there lay the Courier Six, the man who had cheated death countless times, finally resting on death's door. As his consciousness began to fade, warm hands brushed against his face. Light flooded his vision, his blurry vision could only register feminine figure. As he lay there, his final thoughts as he remembered Christianity that . He muttered, barely audible, "Mother Mary... fuck. Sorry for not looking af-" he coughs "... may Christ forgive me."
And with that, his vision slipped away as he smiled.
The girl from before knelt beside him worried, she pressed on his nape feeling for a pulse. Noticing he was still alive. She let out a relieved sigh as she gathered his limp body and carried him into the forest.
even at brink of death he tries get into heaven. What a cheeky bastard. Anyways. Ah welp. Funfact first part of this chapter was made before chapter 3 and 4. Hopefully i made it make sense. Also yey he finally made it into reunion. although he is just there to be treated. Who knew overdosing on a spiked turbo would do this? Either way he is plenty though. As long as he gets fed this fella can survive almost anything. Cover him in pitch and set him on flame and throw him off the cliff. He will live
Such is 10 Endurance.
Let's see. replies to last chapter. yey.
Hm i think he needs gain the trust which will be hard. But if he could he should be able.
And that's it.
Lucky Six in Arknight AU part 3.
"-man! -arthman! Harthman! get up!" voice of Lucky Six rangs out as Harthman groaned, slowly coming to his senses. He clutched his head, feeling the pounding ache settle in.
"(Victorian-English) Dear god, you're alive! We got ambushed by some bandits." Lucky Six said, gesturing toward a flickering blaze nearby. Harthman squinted, taking in the wreckage that had once been their vehicle, now reduced to a charred skeleton. A sigh escaped him as he reached for his flute, ready to play a mournful tune for the destruction. Just then a rustle from the bushes caught his eye. Without hesitation, he played a single, sharp note, conjuring his art, a firebolt shot forth, igniting the figure lurking in the shadows.
Lucky Six turned at the sound of flames and saw the bandit aflame. He raised his pistol and fired, dropping the burning figure. "(Victorian-English) Nice shot, although i knew he was there."
Harthman rolled his eyes. "(Victorian) Yeah right" he clasps his hand "I am guessing bandits are still in the area ya?"
"(Victorian-English) Yup, Beside you and Roza, I had a bit rough landing other than that I came back pulled you out" Lucky Six brushed off the dirt and shrubbery that clung to him.
"(Victorian) Well it's not like it killed you, wait where is Lady Róża?" Harthman realizes, he looks around concerned.
"(Victorian-English) Ah her? She is fine. What you got crush on her?" Lucky Six teases Harthman.
Harthman dismisses the jap with wave of his hand as he scoffs at Lucky Six "(Victorian) No, you dummkopf! She's a campaign knight! If something happens to her, it's not just you who'll have to worry about assassins!"
Lucky Six looks over his shoulder "(Victorian-English) Ah speak of the devil." he waves to a blonde knight as she walks up next to Lucky Six. Harthman dragging a unconscious bandit. "(Victorian) I see you recovered from crash!"
"(Victorian) Ah yes I did indeed Lady Róża and uhh" he eyed the bandit being dragged "Whose that roughman over there?". "Yeah" joins in the Lucky Six.
"(Victorian-English) We really shouldn't bother with scoundrels like them, off em and be on our merry way I say!"
"(Victorian) Oh not that direct my compatriot" Róża speaks. "(Victorian) Not so fast, my compatriot. This man is part of the bandit group that has so far evaded our knights." she says. Then she looks to Lucky Six and gave a smirk "Would you be so noble as to lend your strength in tracking down these scoundrels and vanquishing their treacherous leader?"
Harthman realizing what Róża said sighs as he correctly anticipates Lucky Six makes fool of himself once again infront of him. As Lucky Six puffs up his chest
"(Victorian-English) Indeed, my noble compatriot, we shall unite our strengths!" hearing that Róża lets out a amused laugh.
Seeing as Harthman has no other options he joins the duo as they extract information from the bandit. The bandit broke rather quickly and spills out everything he knew.
some time later.
With Harthman's skillful casting, Róża's adept swordsmanship, and Lucky Six's intuitive strategy, they made quick work of the remaining bandits. However, nothing could have prepared them for what come as Lucky Six filled with dread.
Lucky Six watched in dread as Róża downed another drink, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. If he thought Harthman was bad with drinking, he was dead wrong. Oh, how wrong he was. Róża was already singing in her mother tongue, her speech slurred as she pranced around infront of the group. Her armors clanked against each other with every jump she made as she sang.
"Jasieńkowe ocka jasieńkowe ocka! Bo się w jej serdusku tak zakochały!" AN: W moim ogródecku
Then comes the performance's lead musician Harthman singing atop of his lungs as he stumbles forward, proving miracle exists as he hasn't fallen over. 'Yet'
"Mei Muata und mei Vota! Des sein zwoa nette Leit!" AN: Goldried Quintett
Lucky Six shook his head, amused by their sorry state, wondering how he had ended up with the world's two lightest drinkers. One from a country although renowned for it's music and art casting they were also known for beer and drunken revelry as he observed in their cities. Then there was the lightest drinker among knights, somehow all that endurance doesn't count against a damn cup of drink. And also if his memories served him right Kazimierzians pride themselves as they say they are better drinkers than Victorians. Ursans, Leithanians combined.
He wondered how such person exist as he remembers even before his heart was replaced, he could drink the Whiskey Rose herself under the table. Speaking of Cass he wondered how she was doing, well she will probably gonna be fine as last vivid memory of her is her being flat out drunk while choking out a super mutant with her rifle, yelling out "YIPPEE KI-YAY I'LL SEND YOU TO YOUR GREEN WHORE OF MOTHER! YEEEEEHAAW." If she settled down, he wanted to meet with the guy she settled down with and have few drinks with him. Probably have many wild stories to hear from it.
He side eyed at the feline bandit leader and his remaining vanguard, who glared at them with clear annoyance at the singing. Lucky Six smirked at their contempt behind his helmet. 'Serves them right' he thought, as he took a swig from the wine bottle and joined the small parade, singing.
"(English) Say, can you see! By the dawn's early light!" AN: American anthem
and is end the au 3. wow the car crash that didn't kill everyone, nice. And here is a side story I made up while trying to clear the writer's block.
AN: Okay after ripe sleep of 2 hours , re-reading this at lecture. I really got lost at last parts huh. Damn. Probably wanna re-do the chapter adjust some stuff and make the certain parts stand out, somewhere around three to four months later when i get to writing chapters again. I do recommend listing to the german and polish song I noted at the AU.
Anyways can't really have a fallout fanfic without courier tripping on balls.
The two Green Coats stood knee-deep in the half-finished trench. One soldier, a former farmhand, stood tall and grunted as he shoveled dirt, his clothes were put on unevenly and his winter hat rested on his head wrong way. His companion, far more leaner frame and wearing his uniform in more refined in manner as it would let him, worked diligently beside him, though his mind was clearly elsewhere.
"I dunno, Dimitri," the burly one groaned. "This ain't right, y'know? Diggin' trenches like this, just the two of us? This here's a whole platoon's job, not for a couple of stragglers!"
Dimitri replied in a measured tone, "Ivan, we've been over this. We're not getting reinforcements. Nearest city plates are over four hundred kilometers away, so unless you've figured out teleportation, we're on our own."
Ivan paused to consider. "Four hundred… wait, how far's that in steps?"
Dimitri sighed. "Too far for you to count."
Ivan leaned on his shovel, trying to change the subject. "Still, three skirmishes, huh? We survived all of 'em! That makes us veterans now, don't it?"
Dimitri shook his head. "Veterans? Ivan, the only reason we're not court-martialed on spot is because the garrison is stretched thinner than this trench. We deserted our mission three times."
Ivan scratched his head, still proud. "What else were we supposed to do? All the sarge' and the lieutenant we were attached to got taken down in three strokes! If they couldn't handle that savage, what chance did we have? Besides, it don't count as deserting if you come back, right?"
Dimitri rolled his eyes. "Only because there's no one left to discipline us. We're just lucky."
Ivan grumbled, shoveling again. "If we're so lucky, how come those infected patrol units ain't out here diggin' with us? Wouldn't mind them doin' the dirty work."
Dimitri sighed again. "As much as I hate to admit it, those gold diggers are better at tracking people than we are. They're... specialized."
Ivan chuckled. "Bloodsuckers? Specialized? Ha! They can't be that good."
Dimitri looked to the sky as he recalled "One of their captains almost mugged a footman from another squad last week claiming he was somehow 'helping the savage'. Before the lieutenant showed up and scared that gutless wretch off."
Ivan blinked, surprised. "Almost shanked him, eh? Figures. Can't trust those types. Always lookin' to rob and stab someone."
After a while, Dimitri muttered, "We've been on half rations all day. Wonder when we will get out of here."
Ivan shrugged. "Could be worse. At least we ain't stuck in those slum ruins, filled with those nasty Originium spikes. Imagine tryin' to dig there."
As if on cue, a large fowl beast circled overhead, casting a long shadow on the snow. Ivan noticing the shadow, squinted up at it. "Oi, look at that! Bet we could hunt it, eh? Get ourselves a nice meal."
Dimitri took a good look at it then shook his head. "That thing? It picks on flesh. With the amount of corpses lying around, probably not a good idea to eat it."
Ivan grinned sheepishly. "Well, was worth a shot."
They resumed digging. "Y'know, this trench system ain't gonna stop that savage, ya know? He picks you off one by one."
Dimitri replied instantly. "The brass doesn't care about stopping him directly. These trenches are for controlling movement, cutting off escape routes... or keeping us busy. They're not expecting us to face him head-on."
Ivan grunted, unimpressed. Then his tone shifted, more thoughtful than usual. "You ever wonder why we're doin' all this?"
Dimitri paused mid-shovel, glancing at him curiously. "What brought that on?"
Ivan leaned on his shovel. "This whole business with the infected... it's more than just us out here fightin' em or shootin' em on sight, like the patrol does. There's somethin' bigger goin' on. Like killin' em is not gonna stop more folks becomin' infected. Most folk around here don't even know how they get infected. Even city folk gotta worry too, with all them factories and whatnot.
It just happen ya know? Gettin' infected, even when it ain't your fault, there's no goin' back to society. Common folk just treat 'em like a wild dogs, even authority labels you as a dead as soon as they realize you are infected. And the Tsar's reforms? They've only stirred things up worse. Having infected live next to non-infected made 'em hate even more now, and the infected know they're marked for life. Even if they try to keep their heads low, parts of the army still use infected labor camps on the sly, even though the Tsar's banned it.
Someone way above us is pullin' strings. When you got a whole class of people treated worse than burden beasts , it's the perfect excuse. They rile up the public, make mass mobilizations seem necessary. "Oh, the infected are outta control," they'll say. "We need more troops, more laws." It's a cycle. And even if someone's pullin' the strings, it's already gettin' outta hand.
Problem with the infected is now becomin' a systemic as more and more factories are built' , The factories churn out more infected folk who end up hunted or driven out. Heck even factory folk' are bein' treated worse now than it was years ago. All it takes now is some charismatic fella to rally 'em, and it'll start with one city. Then the next day, the whole province'll be burnin', and in a week, the whole nation'll be caught up in it."
Dimitri stared at Ivan, his shovel frozen mid-air. "Ivan... thinking about that stuff isn't our job. That's for the people in the ivory towers. We dig trenches."
Ivan let out a laugh, returning to his usual self. "Yeah, guess you're right. Bet those ivory towers cost a fortune, huh?"
"Yes, Ivan, that's why they're in charge."
"Makes sense!"
just finished canto 7 of limbus company. And yeah. inspired. Redid the car crash part and also made descriptions for the units in Arknight style.
Territorial Guard : Ordinary conscript stationed under Ursus garrison. Most of these conscripts count their days until they can return to civilian life, with little interest in military glory.
Most Territorial Guard looks up to their officers for guidance, death of nearby officer will send them in "Frighten" condition and major reduction in movement speed.
Appearance, Wears faded tsar green colored long winter coat and standard body armor with a winter fur hat. Wields a saber or crossbow
Territorial Officer : Ordinary officers who have chosen the quieter path of service. Even though they are trained at Ursus officer academies with a prominent culture of politics and glory seeking, these individuals typically seek out postings away from the frontlines, preferring stability and the absence of direct conflict.
Appearance, They wear the same faded tsar-green winter coat as the guards but with a white sash and a fur hat decorated with a white cockade. They wield a saber.
Can inspire certain units.
Territorial Stormtrooper: Ursus soldier assigned to the garrison for strategic deployment. Often drops into key positions to reinforce vulnerable points in battle.
Appearance, They wear the same faded tsar-green winter coat as the guards with full body armor. Their helmet features a narrow glass visor, and they are equipped with a jetpack. They wield a heavy crossbow and an axe.
Can be inspired by certain units. Drops in from unexpected places.
Territorial Warcasters: Casters specializing in crowd control and suppression tactics. Their arts are critical for quelling civil unrest and maintaining order.
Appearance, Dressed in a faded tsar-green winter coat with white shoulder belts, they wear a face-covering mask and a boyar hat. They carry a black staff.
Doesn't attack. Targets an operator and debuffs def and physical dodge stats alongside 8 adjacent tiles. This can stack, debuff is not permanent.
Territorial Grenadier: The shock troops of the garrison. Selected for their imposing stature and unshakable resolve, they are trained for brutal frontline engagements. Their presence alone bolsters the morale of the lower ranks.
Appearance, They wear faded tsar-green winter coats, white shoulder belts, and standard body armor, with a fur hat. Towering in stature, they wield axes or heavy crossbows.
Can inspire certain units. Can be inspired by certain units.
Lt. Col.'s Staff: Fiercely loyal officer who ensure the battalion operates smoothly under the command of the Lieutenant Colonel. Known for their ruthless efficiency, they maintain order by any means necessary.
Appearance, They wear tsar-green winter coats with white lapels, decorated with medals. They sport a shako hat with a black cockade and bushy beards, wielding sabers. AN: They are wearing more vivid tsar-green winter coats unlike the common soldier whose coats are more gray than green.
Buffs nearby territorial unit's def and res. Can stack.
Lt. Col. Andrei: Lt. Col. Vasilievich stands out in Ursus military officer structure as a dramatic and eccentric figure. Known for his flair for theatrics and a tendency for quoting novels rather than issuing harsh punishments. Because of his unconventional style, his officers are fiercely loyal to him, preferring his leadership than typical commander of the Ursus Army.
Andrei is more befitting for position of a royal butler than commander of a battalion. AN: To those who do not know, royal head butler/maid are basically a few steps away from being advisors or spies for the royals. I could be wrong though. i unno all my understanding of Imperial Russia's high society comes from war and peace.
Appearance, Andrei wears a tsar-green winter coat with white lapels and numerous medals. His bicorn hat is adorned with white and black cockades.
Theatrical speech: Andrei makes a long speech. Buffing every territorial unit's attack, aspd on the field while debuffing their movement speed.
when this unit's health reaches zero. plays a animation as he get's invulnerability turning animation duration. Animation his staff unit jumps infront of him, taking the fatal blow for his leader, he dies as Andrei craddles the staff officer, Andrei then pulls out his saber and recklessly charges.
Reckless Charge: While in this state all territorial unit's movement speed, attack, aspd is greatly increased while def and res is reduced.
Unique Map Condition: Defense of Motherland: All Territorial units are permanently inspired during this battle condition. Territorial Guards will no longer panic from the deaths of their officers.
And yeah, very neat. Although Lt. Col. Andrei said he represents the brigade but in reality it's just him boasting about his future post as Colonel, as he is leading a battalion sized unit of 4 to 5 companies , 2 to 3 of them being a territorial guard company, stormtrooper company , territorial grenadier company alongside auxiliaries like casters and other stuff.
the territorial guards numbering 300 to 350 men, stormtrooper and grenadier being much more normal sized of 120 to 200 men.
With infected patrol units he is paying from his coffer. Although recent influx of infected patrol units are more or less rank filed by their major, who was more or less black mailed by the Lt. Col. Andrei.
Actual number of the new infected patrols are 1/3rd of it's real number, with rest being new recruits they hired as they were dragged in.