The Rad Apple [Slow]

(Let's be very clear, Harry...the Bell Boys at the Regency are NEVER happy. )

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!!!!" Was all that Neil Parker could say as he took off, with Miranda trying to keep up with him. She had forgotten how freakin fast he was. He could probably keep a good gap between himself and Murphy for at least a mile or two.

Murphy leapt onto the car, doing more than what Miranda had hoped for and stabbed his big knife into the metal. He bellowed "I CAN SEEEEE YOU!", giggling in a manner that had once only been heard by Agent Straton while she fought a certain paranoid schizophrenic.

Mere seconds after pointing and giggling...the grenade went off.

The car went with it...

(I suppose I should let you describe what happens to Murphy there, Harry.)
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Agent Straton didn't even flinch or otherwise acknowledge Mister Shadowski's insult to her. She'd heard worse. Particularly from Miriam Cohen when the two had first met...hell, she still heard worse from Cohen, and they were as close to friends as they were ever going to be.

Sarah simply nodded at his admission of guilt, while Todd and Randy's shoulders sagged. Kevin looked stunned, and Fred raised an eyebrow. For them, they were horribly disappointed at what the man had done, but there was nothing that could be done. Except to heed his advice and prepare for the worst...such as the NYF possibly coming to their door, which would be a very VERY bad thing. Agent Straton had promised to keep David in line, and Sarah thought that, despite the woman's intimidating and creepy appearance, she could be trusted. She and David would be a big help in aiding Kevin and Fred in upping security and trying to get everyone to safety.

Meanwhile...Jennifer was furious.

"YOU did this!?" She yelled at Shadowski. "YOU....YOU....YOU!!!" She began to sputter, apparently so mad that she couldn't even think of what to say. "What....what were you THINKING, you moron!?"

"Jennifer!" Sarah snapped. "This isn't the time! We need to..."

"Don't give me that!" Jennifer Steinem roared over her. "We would even BE in the this fucking situation if this moron hadn't double-crossed us to the NYF! People are going to stop trusting, leave, and then die! And the ones who don't are now in risk of being shot by the NYF! And for what!? To protect his mom!? I'm sorry, but there are over a hundred people here and to put them all at risk to save one woman's life or whatever seems completely unreasonable!" She whirled towards Shadowski. "I hope you disgusting dog doesn't get sick anymore because WE ARE NOT HELPING ANYMORE, YOU DIRTY DOUBLE CROSSER! I MEAN SERI...!"

"That's enough!" Sarah DeVille yelled at her, and Jennifer took a step back. "Yelling isn't going to help any of us, so stop it! If you can't get ahold of yourself, then you can go back to the basement and continue working on the purifier at least until you can have behave like an adult! Okay?"

Tears of pure rage and frustration were flowing down Jennifer's cheeks, but she nodded. Sarah was sorry for having to yell. She knew that, deep down, what Jennifer was really mad about was that people were now in danger, and she felt the need to protect them and take care of them. And anything she saw as problematic to achieving that goal she was violently against.

"Now..." Sarah said. "Kevin, Fred, David, Agent Straton, Mister Shadowski Mr. Blymire...I'm putting you all in charge of keeping the Public Library safe. Do whatever you have to do. Randy, Jennifer....I want you two to help me with our patients. We'll have to coordinate the Volunteers to make everything work, but we may need to relocate the Infirmary down into the basement at least until we know we're safe...if we ever go back to being safe." Sarah turned to Nicky No-Hustle and Danielle. ""If you two could help in any way, it would be greatly appreciated."

"Hooray, volunteer work!" Danielle cried, happily. "The best kind of work, because you get that big fuzzy feeling when you do it, that is much better than being paid!"

"Yeah right..." Alfred Bowers mumbled.

"You're gonna help too, right, Nicky?" Danielle asked the ghoul, excited.
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Everyone was thinking the same thing: This woman did not belong here.

This was being thought for different reasons. The common patrons of the Loews Regency Hotel did not appreciate the woman's attire, her language, her general appearance, and especially the fact that she was not a proper woman, not shapely and charming and eloquent and graceful, but rather rude, abrash, and clearly showing signs of a temper and little patience. The NYF and the other security personnel did not approve of her minigun and the fact that she looked more like a thug rather than a patron. And the employees, those poor saps who actually had to interact with the woman, thought that it was only a matter of time before Lady Chambers had this woman shot, stabbed, beaten, lit on fire, or whatever she felt like doing.

And Lorraine Chambers was not about to let this woman stay...but neither was she about to go anywhere near the woman either.

The person who got that job was none other than Mister Tucker, who Lorraine happily sent partly in revenge for his little insubordination previously.

"Uh....uh..." Mister Tucker fumbled, as he approached the woman. "E-E-Excuse me...uh....ma'am? I mean, Ma'am!" He didn't want to sound like there was question of the gender here. "I uh...h-h-h-have been asked by the management....to...uh...er...well....esc...esc...es....escort you off the premises....they...do not...or rather...they feel....uh...."

He couldn't finish the sentence. He had a feeling he was going to killed or at least beaten up....again.

(BadHarry said I can just jump in, so the new order is Harry, Steel, Ghost, TLT, Gunn, Zelus, Immortal. I was writing to show how Danveris ended up arriving in New York in the first place, but the post ended up far too long. This will be the last of the backstory. My next post will be a time skip with him already in New York.)

Danveris already knew, long before the tribe had vanished off in the sand-swept horizon, he already knew exactly where he as going to go.

It was the sole thing that was the same, a beacon to the Pa Kua tribe no matter how far west, east, north or south they went - a stone sentinel that sliced through the blasted craters of the long past era. The Stone Snake, they called it, due to the symbol engrained on the bright blue shield with it's tips of red - a snake, crossing it's belly and then eating it's own tail, and then beside it the same form but outstretched and lanky.

It was in a sea of burnt trees, their skeletons bare to the burning sun, that Danveris climbed on top of that old highway. The off ramp he found, one of the Snake's sloping legs, was littered with the shells of old war vehicles, all of them rushing to get out of the state - out of the country - when the bombs first fell. And here they remained, rusting carcasses. Whether it was the blast or the radiation, now these off ramps were a quagmire of radiation, sheered steel and tombs - bones leaning over their steeling wheels or turning their heads away from windows.

But that wasn't the true problem, wasn't what caused the hair on Danveris' head to curl up or for that sense of danger, like that of a Radscorpion poised to strike - that heavy tension that tasted bitter on the tongue, to strike in his heart and make him ease himself up, bit by bit, up the cement ramp. The radiation pockets were easy enough to avoid, to skirt the edges of any craters, to pull back the moment that familiar burning sensation racked up his back, and any sharp wreckage was even easier to deal with - years of walking barefoot hardening his soles into thick, black leather, instinctively stepping around where he knew no pain awaited him.

No, what made his heart race and his life spin was the power that dwelt within those frames.

He had heard tell of the monoliths - the now stationary remnants of the Old Ones, that the TaleTellers claim had once been armor for the Old Ones, making them larger than they were and faster as well. While, to some degree, they made for good cover, especially in the dark of night, where every flicker of a shadow was a signal to your foes, the tribe learned long ago they would provide no safe haven against those who wielded the monsters who spat metal - a single one of those metal shots could puncture the hull and send the monoliths careening up in a shower of flame. Death awaited those who drew too near.

And now, Danveris had to wade through a sea of them.

Of course, it would only be for a short while. During their migrations across the tribal lands, the Pa Kua tribe had often spotted the towering bridge overhead, and for a good portion of those journeys the Stone Snake could be seen empty of all forms, be they Old World monoliths or new denizens that had slapped on a home up above. In the time it took the Three to bring judgment on the Old Ones many had made it out of their stone buildings and onto the streets, but they could not get very far.

Danveris slipped by the last, the one who had gotten the farthest, before coming out into the open.

The cracked pavement of Interstate 81 passed beneath his feet, as mile after mile ran by as the hours slipped by into a blur. Below, he could occasionally spot beasts, feral dogs roaming in packs in the dying light, Mirelurks stirring in waters underneath – rising up to follow him before tiring and falling behind, and the monsters of flesh smoking, passing food back and forth as above Danveris crept carefully by them.

The route wasn't entirely above ground, there were moments where it dipped, becoming even to the wastelands below. Here though, he could still stay relatively out of danger by stepping off of the Stone Snake, hiding along course shrubbery and lumpy boulders – whatever he could find as cover, darting from one to the next, while keeping himself parallel to the path. Once it began to rise up again from the ground, then Danveris would hop back onto the safety of the Stone Snake.

That is not to say there were no dangers on the road itself. When darkness fully struck, he took a single sip of the strange glowing liquid, that which buzzed in his throat and opened his eyes to the night. That is where the true danger lie, and he felt it, long before he saw them, a feeling in his gut that screamed at him to jump. He did. Tumbling into a trickling stream that had once run through a lush forest many years ago. In the burn of the water, as all water burned, he glanced up, seeing, for the first time, a monster so great that even his courage was shaken. A giant lizard stalked the Stone Snake, long claws slashing, snout sniffing against the cracks before it jerked it's head up to the moon, opened it's jaws with jagged fangs and bellowed.

Though Danveris had been planning on resting that night, he did not stop – running until his legs buckled.

He rested in a cleft of a rocky by the stream. The Stone Snake shadowed him in the early morning, letting him get at least a couple hours sleep, which, realizing what he done, Danveris woke with a start. Normally, he was slow and cautious when deciding to fall asleep out in the wastelands – given a bad choice with poor shelter would be the death of him. To fall asleep after running in a panic …

He swore never to do such a thing again.

So he was cautious when following the Stone Snake to the next off ramp, only to find it a heap of rubble.

That was the other major concern in traveling on the I-81, after centuries of disrepair it was fragile. Broken heaps of stone piled underneath it in gaps along the path, and one could never be sure if the stone would crumble under stepping feet. To counter this, Danveris relied on his sense, that tension that hung in the air, like the weight of heat, right before danger struck and kept his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to fling himself to the side should the floor ever crack beneath him.

It turned out though, that the Stone Snake had a end.

Before Danveris stretched a spread of stone fragments and in the middle of it all – a crater.

The Stone Snake itself was struck with the Three's wrath.

But he could no longer travel along the Stone Snake. Even if he were to go down and follow it along it's broken remains, there was no telling what lied await among them – for there would definitely be something there, making use of the miles of shelter that the rubble provided. Danveris would have to backtrack, another route, less familiar to him, had intersected with the Stone Snake a while ago it's sign was two dashes, horizontal and diagonal, like the Eight Motions.

And so Danveris entered the Virginia State Route 7.

And so Danveris entered the Capitol Wasteland.

It was a steady progression after that point, feet against pavement, distant forms morphing into dull monoliths, rocky formations, blasted trunks and the backbone of Old World houses caved into themselves. Those forms became larger, more distinct, until the old road beneath his feet vanished entirely and just a outstretched wasteland appeared before him. Instantly, Danveris felt tense. It was one thing to stay on top of a old , able to climb down to hunt and search for water (and if all else fails to squeeze some liquids out of plants) but another thing entirely to be stranded out in the wastes, vulnerable at all times and no landmarks to guide him. But he had no other choice – and so Danveris wandered, heading further east, the only thing to guide him was the trailing fingers grasping the sky in the early morn.

At least until the fourth day of his journey when something new stopped him in his tracks.

Up ahead, hanging over the already towering overpass, was a Y structure, two thin metal rails propped up on either end. And on one of them Danveris saw the largest creation he ever saw of the Old Ones, so large, in fact, that he couldn't believe that any man could make such a thing – magic or no magic. But, after a single look, Danveris understood. Just like the many dotted monoliths that littered the wastes, so too was that long cylinder meant to hold a person – lots of people. But even as he understood – he didn't. It looked like it would be dangerous for a single person to try to balance on one of those rails – he couldn't imagine how such a large object could move along it.

He began walking towards it, and along it's path. That's when he saw. The hills dipped, the old route before that had been lost beneath the shifting dirt of two hundred years of erosion (or, perhaps a entirely new path to being with) was now visible as a horizontal cut against the backdrop of a river. Danveris was immensely relieved to see the river below, water was always scarce to find, but have such a vast amount of it right there waiting is a mixed blessing. On one hand, should he find a good place to settle along it's length he would never thirst again – on the other hand, Mirelurks dwelt among riverbeds and so do other men, who can be more deadly.

On the other hand, the whole reason he went north instead of west was because he wanted to meet such men.

To the far left, a single tower rose with a bowl shaped object up on the top. Perhaps in the Old World it had worked similarly to the antenna of a Giant Ant – gathering information. Not that Danveris would know much about how the Old World's magic worked. Tearing his gaze away from the sight, he scanned to the right – and stopped.

A metal gate stood on the side, a single square cut out for men to hold their weapons through and a small ramp on the side, to stand on higher ground. Two men now stood behind that gate, as another came walking in from the north, behind him a line of people, their hands chained together and a ring of metal around their necks. Danveris didn't quite understand what was happening, but a single look at those people and he understood they were here against their will. The man lead them down, pass the piled tires and cars that served as a barricade, pass a tower that was sparking with lightning (another sight Danveris had to tear his eyes off of) and then deeper into the route.
Where is he taking them?

The answer was given when Danveris followed the group up above, among the hills, scanning their route ahead. There, awaiting them, was a fort made out of monoliths – a couple of mattresses laying on the ground and more barricades, these ones of several bags with something weighing them down, blocking the other way. Within that fortress another two men waited. Two on either side and one, going back and forth bringing captives.

All of them had monsters that spit metal.

They were of different sizes and strengths he knew, but even one of them could be fatal to him, lightly armored as he was. The tribe had always forgone making use of such monsters with a sense of trepidation, there was a evil to them they felt – the intentions of the ones who used them, like the intentions of all those who wield weapons, have leaked into the machines – tainting them. The intentions of these men, in particular, stunk with the stench of evil and a gloom hung over the sight, falling more heavily with each step the captor took.

Danveris was stringing his bow before he even thought about it.

This is madness. Be on your way!

But it wasn't. At least, not in this situation. The men were begging for their own destruction by being set up as they were. The power of the monoliths lie near the front, underneath the covering in front of the first wheels and doors. All he needed to do was find a gap in one of the cars in the fort and one of the two cars by the other guards by the glinting steel gear (the more Danveris thought about it, the more sure he was that these men did not construct such a thing – it seemed reminiscent of the magic of the Old Ones, but in a newer, cleaner, state.) and with two arrows four of them would be gone. Then it would only be a matter of taking out the last one by surprise.

And his greatest strength, Danveris thought as he nocked a arrow and pulled back his bow, is his bow.

The targets were small, the arrows had to get through any holes in the hood to hit the nuclear reactors.

There were many choices to pick in the car fort.

There was only one option in the two cars by the taken over Enclave station.

Danveris hit both.

The explosions rocked the route, vibrations shook both the stone platform and the hills on the side, causing Danveris to lurch and steady himself. Two twin mushroom clouds bloomed into being – one much more smaller than the other. In the middle of the two, the last remaining captor stood dazed – uncomprehending.

Danveris hit him in the shoulder, toppling him over the side and into the river below.

That is when Danveris appeared, rushing down the slope to where the captives stood, wide eyed. “It's alright.” He told them, hands gesturing out placating, but they just winced edging away from him. “I won't hurt you.” He repositioned himself to have a better look at their necks. Their captors had put it on them, he figured it would be best to get them off, “Let me see if – ”

“No!” One of them shouted. Stopping Danveris in his tracks.

“Why should I – ”

“Behind you!” Came another voice.

Danveris spun around.

He saw the captor pull himself back up, draw out a square gun with a flat screen and emit a wave of blue.

And then the world spun.

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Tl;dr: Danveris traveled along the I-81 in Virginia before hopping on the Virginia State Route 7 once that route was cut off. He entered into the Capitol Wasteland between the SatCom Array NW-07c and the Abandoned Car Fort, which isn't so abandoned anymore, since slavers have come and taken both it and the left behind Enclave outpost as a base of operations. He attacked the slavers, igniting the car fort and a couple cars they dragged over to add extra defense for the front, killing four of the five. The last one he shot. But instead of getting rid of him, the slaver climbed back up on the highway and shot Danveris with a Mesmetron.

I'll show what he does in New York when it gets back to me in the lineup.

David rolled his eyes a bit at Shadowski, but this wasn’t really his argument. Resigning himself to silence, David just sat there quietly. He only stayed in the room long enough for himself to be acknowledged by Sarah, to whom he gave a nod. David then turned grabbed up his belongings and walked out of the room. David continued on until he hit the exit, practically ignoring everyone around him, and just slipped out into the ‘fresh’ air. He breathed in deeply and then stretched before going over and sitting by a curb. As he sat down, he took out his inactive frag mines and counted them up. They wouldn’t really do much by themselves, and he didn’t exactly have enough of them. He’d need more explosives, ideally. Either that or set up some sort of trap.

When he sat the frag mines to the side, he picked up his guns, namely the rifle he’d taken from the first fire fight and looked it over. It was still in poor condition, but perhaps he could swap it for something the NYF grunts had, they’re bound to have decent armaments right? He set the gun aside after checking it over, and then picked up his stealthboy. For a while he was tempted to just activate it and vanish into the wasteland. He doubted he’d have been missed. Maybe the volunteers didn’t need him. With Straton there, and some of the other guys, he probably wasn’t needed. But eh, what else could he do right now? His work with the president’s men was over. He didn’t know much about life outside of their service. Hell, he didn’t know much of life period by the sounds of it.
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Wilson turned and looked calmly over at Hamiliton and nodded at the news of the eyebots. “The eyebots need to be release across the river.” He stated simply, rising to his feet. “Make sure they’re packed with explosives, and then send them into the courtyard. After that we’ll escort them to the river and send them on their way.”

Wilson made his way around his desk, still clad completely in his power armour, helmet and all. It was almost as if he had predicted the completion… Perhaps he had been watching through the bunker’s security cameras? Wilson made his way past Hamilton and down the hallway towards the stairs leading into the warehouse. Enclave personnel were as busy as always, but quickened at the presence of Wilson. Wilson took a moment to look around, before walking out through the warehouse doors, which had been left open after the Vertibirds had been moved through them. He took a moment to examine their almost bulkhead-like structure, before moving on into the courtyard to do a patrol, whilst he waited for Hamilton.

The car lit up like the sun.

The centaur Dottie was incinerated upon impact, whilst Murphy was sent thrown twenty feet backwards into a side of a crumbling building. The mutant slumped against the already existing pile of debris and made no further motion. Some of Murphy's boys, knowing a fallen idol when they see one, decided to abandon the battle. The gang members bringing up the rear slipped away, leaving the front-liners to struggle on with Hardleton and company.
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"Yeah, pipe down, Enclave," Shadowski growled at Jennifer, "now ain't the time to point fingers. It's the time to clench fist." The volunteer cracked his knucles.

If Nicky still had eyelids, he would have blinked. "Me? Help?" He scratched his glowing head. "I GUESS I could talk to the ghoulies over in the Graveyard Rennaisance. It wouldn't hurt to head back to District One. If the NYF are coming over here, we're gonna need all the help we can get. I wouldn't go banking on it now. The ghouls in the graveyard aren't trusting of smoothies, even you fellas. You'd have more chance of convincing the Enclave to help humanity than get those crusty old bastards on side."

Nicky looked at David and glowed a little brighter - his version of a blush. "Err...no offence" he added hastily.

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Miriam took a long hard stare at Tucker. She hadn’t expected a warm reception, but this man was terrified. This could be an advantage. Had the minigunner had a confrontation with an NYF officer or even Lorraine Chambers herself, entrance would be completely denied, she’d never get the skinny on what’s going down on New York and her little stroll down memory lane would end here. Miriam let the poor guy trail off, shooting him the famous thousand-yard-stare that raiders spoke of across the East Coast. Then, when the silence had spoken for long enough, she smiled at Mister Tucker and told him:

“Holy fucking shit. That’s the best moustache I’ve ever seen.”

Miriam’s face, although with clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, were about as close to warm and reassuring as it was possible for the minigunner to get. When she was asked to leave, Miriam merely took out a fresh cigar, appearing not to have heard Mister Tucker at all. She took a few puffs, blowing a cloud at a pre-war “thank-you for not smoking sign” that hung above reception. “You know, I’ve ain’t been back in New York for twenty five years,” she said as if thinking aloud. “Never thought New York’s Finest would get the run of this town. Never thought I’d see a place like this in the Rad Apple, that’s for fucking sure. And what’s this now?” She indicated to Tucker’s uniform. “Slavery or somethin’? Never thought the bastards in blue would go for that.” Miriam spat out another plume of cigar smoke and watched it blob. “You know nobody outside New Jersey talks about this place. Everyone thinks it’s dead. Maybe that’s for the best. Doesn’t look like much has changed since I was a girl growing up in the radded ass-end on Manhattan.”

Miriam shook the nostalgia off her and pulled out the stool next to her, and offered Mister Tucker a seat. “Anyway, you ain’t paid to wear that fuckin’ blazer to hear an old bitch whine, if you are being paid at all.” She added. “I’m gonna be needing a room. Some food would be good too.” She hauled her minigun onto the bar. “Also, look after this. Be careful now. It’s older than me. And can I buy some pre-war summer wear or something? I don’t exactly fit in around here.”

She removed herself from the barstool with a creak, and looked around the lobby for a while, before noticing Tucker was still there.

“Oh right I’m supposed to tip.” Miriam reached into a big sack dangling from her belt and dropped twenty caps onto the table. She divided them into two groups of ten and slid them across the bar to Tucker separately. “That’s for you,” she lid the other ten. “And that’s for that very fine facial hair you got goin’ on. Always had a thing for whiskers. Guess it reminds me of my ma.”

Hamilton nodded again, "Yes sir!" He barked out crisply, eyes widening briefly at the sight of the Major in full power armor. He'd then hop to it, moving out of the office at a quick pace to see to the majors orders.

First, the Corporal would head to the lab, to make sure that all the Eyebots were -packed- with Explosives. They were. Each one with enough explosives in them to make anyone who came too close regret it. Terribly. The young corporal grinned, nodding at that, and then scooping them into a storage crate to be released. He'd carry the crate with him as he went to complete his next objective.

The day might be today....finally... He thought to himself, smiling.

Hamilton would ignore anyone who attempted to greet him, being on a mission from the Major himself. This was the last detail on his end that he needed to see to...if he was going with the Major and setting them loose across the river, the mission definitely called for his old friend to be brought in. He'd continue walking until he found where his power armor was kept.

For a moment, he just stared at the armor, kept in its little stasis shielding, suspended in the air.

Hello again old friend...

Then, he nodded at the officer in charge of the armory, quickly explaining his need. "Mission with the Major, let me get suited up."

The other man nodded, and so Hamilton was strapped into his power armor, the familiar feeling of security and well...power, coming back. He'd grin, flexing his gloved fingers, and then glanced at the weapon. A CZ75 Avenger, with enough ammo to cause -anyone- a bad day in the back. He hoisted it up, now ready, and then grabbed the case filled with its precious cargo.

Hamilton would head to the Majors location, hefting his weapon and the case, preventing him from saluting. He figured making the attempt to salute the man and possibly damaging his weapon, or worse- the eyebots, wouldn't be worth it.

"Sir! Eyebots are ready to give those Mutie bastards hell. I've packed 'em with enough explosives to, well...I hope the Muties are stupid enough to touch 'em...it'll make for quite the display sir!"

The Corporal was obviously excited, managing to maintain some degree of calmness however.

The moment Gunn's armor was back online, and moving, the Knight had been standing upon the highest ground he'd found (Which was actually a mildly tall pile of dead Boys, victims to Bane, his Gauss Minigun.) while firing a supportive storm of metal over the still-charging horde of Boys. At least, until he noticed that they had stopped their advance, and had begun a rather evidently improvised retreat plan. Which was pretty much 'turn around and run'. At the sight, the paladin stopped firing, and shifted his gaze off to the side, finally spotting the dead body of Murphy, in fact, just as it was decapitated by Hardleton. "Hrrm..." The armored ghoul climbed off his corpse mountain, and began to pace towards Miranda, Neil, and Hardleton.

"No need. I'm perfectly fine. If anything, the only thing I need is an ammunition refill. I stocked up on bullets, but I admit I did not think I would be using this many grenades inside a city." With that said, he remained quiet and positioned himself besides Miranda. The grenade machinegun on the left forearm of his modified T-51b retracted into the gauntlet so that it wouldn't get in the way, while the minigun rested atop his right shoulder. A few target marks popped up on his visor as his IFF system tracked them down and gave him an estimate of their positioning. However, those also seemed to be leaving the area. Probably the slower or most crippled of the enemy mutants.

"I believe we are done here. Now... I suppose we'll have to carry on with Lady Miranda's wishes, despite Her Majesty's intentions of returning the missing squadron back to Montana ASAP. Lead on. I'll follow."

Gunn wasn't explicitly happy with the current situation. Whileas he took great appreciation in any opportunity to kill off whatever remained of the Enclave, the knight felt as if they had been delayed long enough. He couldn't exactly tell how long they'd been in the Apple, and moreso, he felt as if they were only aware of half of the things that were happening around them. They were in hostile ground, surrounded by hostile factions, with few to none allies. Plus, they had been carrying off other people's work so far, and the reward did not seem anywhere close to the worth of the cost. However, an Enclave base so close to the city endangered the majority, if not the totallity, of its inhabitants. It was, perhaps, the only thing that kept him there other than Miranda's desires.

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The sound of wheels over dirt had been nearly constant for the past six hours. They had only stopped to change drivers to allow the current ones for some rest on the backs of the armored personnel carriers. There were few men with them. Three carriers, six power-armored troopers in each. The rest of them weren't human. Fifteen Sentry Bots, painted in the colors of the Brotherhood, advanced in the center of the formation. One vehicle to each side, and one behind the Sentries. In the front, leading the charge, was a bigger, deadlier looking Sentry.

Aries glanced upon the Wasteland with that unblinking, vicious red visor that acted as his eyes, giving his surroundings a stare full of prejudice and analysis. His voice synthetizer was put to work after a moment or two. "All units, increase speed by 25%, soldiers remain ready to deploy to the battlefield. Goals are three. One. Locate Rubadaugh's Vertibird, and Rubadaugh himself if the subject is not by the vehicle. Two. Aid Paladin Rubadaugh. Three. Protect VIPs. Procceed." The former scientist's voice was as mechanized as that of any other Sentry, and yet, it carried a more active tone to it. The phrases weren't just pre-set sentences, but rather, whatever the militarized scribe felt like saying.

At his command, the entire group increased its speed. The Sentries by an exact 25%, and the carriers merely accelerated enough to keep up with the bots. They had been the unit closest to The Apple when the distress signal from the Vertibird had been received, and direct radio orders had sent them to reinforce and solve whatever situation had developed in that devolved city.

With his sniper rifle in place, Enigma had begun laying down fire across the battlefield. A well placed bullet in a mutants skull was enough to bring it down, and the crash of his rifle soared into the sky. His suit would shimmer for a moment from the vibration, but mutants were mostly dumb, and much to slow to pick him out as a target now.

As he dropped another mutant, his scope panned over just in time to see Murphy erupt in a jet of flame, with Miranda and Neil. He smiled, wondering if the two weren't more capable then he expected. With the leader taken down, the other mutants began fleeing, and Enigma began dropping them as they fled. A mutant dead now was a mutant that he might not have to kill later.

Packing up his sniper rifle, he noticed the blood stain on the floor where he'd been laying, and injected himself with another stimpack. The wound was worse then he thought, and he tied a few shirts together before wrapping them over the wound in a makeshift bandage. He made his way towards the rubble of the building, opting to take the easier path down to the street this time...

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"This is a total waste of time," the merc said to his superior, grimacing. His superior was rather imposing, over six feet tall and decked out in jet black combat armor, a claw painted in white on his chest.

"Doesn't matter. They both headed north. There are no coincidences. We find them, we kill them, we bring back their ears, and we get paid."

"They're just two psychos. One thinks she's from the past, and the other thinks he's a ghost. They can't be worth all this trouble."

The merc leader started moving forward, signaling his men to do the same, before turning to his second. "No, they aren't. But the caps are. There's a dozen K.o.S. contracts out between the two of them. And they're off their home turf. This is the best time to hit them. So we find this Caligula asshole, find out of they're here or not, and we keep going all the way to Canada if we have to. Now move it."