Two Weeks Ago - Intermission
"Yeah you know, after that uhhh ... fuck up at Citadel Miwaukee, I haven't exactly been around the block. I'll be honest though, glad to be here and out of the frying pan. You guys fight pretty good."
Sipping his coffee, F.A.S Trooper Peter Tao sat in surprising comfort as his fellow colleagues, Carolyn, James, and Derek flanked him along the bar counter. The gang had only just begun to enjoy a nice steaming brew to revel the recent downtime following a surprising return from Battle Zone Chicago. The resulting outcome could've been a lot worse and in their company, Peter felt only felt too inclined to enjoy the R&R while it lasted. Southeast Sector had been one of the lucky compared to Southwest Sector, where reports of heavy casualties and lost assets had already reached filtered through the ranks. Amidst Brucie's excellent cooking, Battle Zone Chicago's sequence of events had already begun to circulate amongst Bunker Chicago personnel, yet for all it was worth, Peter just wanted to enjoy a damn coffee.
"I've mostly been on mission outside Bunker Washington or near Bunkers New York and Boston. Scary shit up north. You guys don't know want to know what bag of dicks the Yorkies have to put up with. I think you already mentioned the fact food ain't exactly a commodity over there, James, so it's a miracle your buddies even pull off surv..."
Peter stopped in mid-sentence as a pack of uniformed soldiers wearing the insignia, Military Police arrived. The man in center wore officer's stripes that spoke of at least mid-echelon ranking. Sipping his tea, the F.A.S. Trooper curiously eyed the men as their gaze swept across the packed counter and seating hall. Before he could fully assess their arrival, the lead man cleared his throat and voiced, "Is there a Specialist Peter Tao from BWSEC?"
"Yes, that's me,” Peter answered as he lowered his cup, “What's up?"
“I have orders to bring you in and I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us.”
“What's the issue?”
“I don't have authorization for any explanations until we've reached a safe location. We need you to come with us and as in now...” The officer issued several hand signals, prompting the other uniformed men to surround Peter's position. Peter nodded intently as he rose into a surrendering posture, hands held high.
“Sorry I've gotta split, but uhm … I think Military Police's got a little beef on me.”
"Alright, Specialist, here's the schpiel. We've got a priority one call waiting on encrypted channel two-seven from Bunker Washington's Surgeon Liason and she sounding a little more bat shit. Desperate sounding woman on the other end claiming to be Director of Research. Patching through now.”
The screens blinked to life as the officer flipped and twisted several switches and knobs in a bid to jump start the video uplink.
“Stand by, Colonel Myers,” the officer uttered, “We've got Specialist Tao on the line."
“Thank you, Lieutenant. We'll take it from here. Director Tao, we've got your husband. He's alive so it's up to you what you want to do ...”
The F.A.S. Specialist heard shuffling through the audio channels before his jaw dropped as sight of a uniformed woman enlarged onto the massive communication screen.
“Holy shit! Hey Kelsey! I was just about to call you, how did you find me?”
“Peter?! Oh my god,” the ravishing woman uttered as she cupped her mouth, “… oh … my god...” Her hands moved to her forehead where after several deep breaths and exhales, the woman returned to fully face the screen and seemed to strain from not panting heavily. Follow several face covered moments, the woman's expression immediately transitioned from frightened relief to something remarkably cold and unforgiving.
“Babe, I...”
“Peter! Are you in Chicago?”
“Uhhh… I don't think you're gonna want to hear what I have say. Part of OPSEC and ...”
“Peter! You are not answering my question,” Kelsey grumbled as she covered her mouth again, “What … the fark are you doing in Chicago?”
“I'll leave you two alone," the officer uttered before departing. The door's silent closing momentarily gave the two pause before Peter ultimately broke the silence.
“Listen, Kelsey, just … calm down okay? I owe you an apology for not calling sooner, but you're going to have hear what...”
“Peter,” Kelsey interrupted, “I have been scrambling through BSEC chain of command for over twelve hours! Do you know what kind of strings I've had to pull to even get on this channel?”
“Oh geeze, we're in deep shit,” Peter mumbled as fear of their execution surfaced, “Let me get this straight. You risked bypassing upper echelon to get a hold of me? I … aw man, aw shit … okay … you want to know what the fark I've been through these past twelve...”
“God damnit, Peter,” Kelsey shouted, “Don't what the fuckery me, you almost gave me a heart attack! Just answer my question and …” sighing, the Director pinched her nose as her eyes heavily squinted, “...explain to me why you've been gone for the past two days before I seriously kick your nuts off.”
Peter pulled out a chair and sat, looking away. His vision briefly darkened as his face fell into a distanced frown. “It's bad here and uhhh ...looks like Chicago's in deep.”
“Okay ...” Kelsey uttered between controlled breaths, “Go on...”
The trooper's gaze returned towards the screen as a sigh escaped his lips. “The higher ups in BWSEC. They know what we're they're doing anddd … with all the mutie traffic, looks like everyone's vamping up the flame bread. We just got sent here and now we're going...”
“Yeah, no shit, Peter. BSEC's upping security everywhere. My uncle said something about F.A.S.T. shipping out two d… oh my god … you're with F.A.S.T aren't you?”
“Babe,” Peter uttered as he gripped the radio microphone. “You're gonna have to let me talk. Yeah ... I'm with F.A.S.T. Beyond that, I really can't tell you what we're doing or else we're both gonna get shot. You have to understand that. Now ... tell me; how's Jimmy doing?”
Massaging her temples, Kelsey exhaled in irritation earning the F.A.S. Trooper's relief. To Peter, that spoke volumes and renewed hopes that his wife had begun to accept their situation's reality. “...he's fine. Built another block fort yesterday without any help. Would be nice if his dad came home, buuuuuut … daddy's out there killing baddies sooo … daddy's off the hook.”
“Tell him daddy's coming home and that he's learning a thing or two about Chicago style goodness. Come's with job since food here sort of trumps what they're cooking out in Washington. Red tape's not bad either. Think they've even got Nanotech clearance n...”
“Hang on a sec,” Kelsey interrupted. Siging again, she lifted a finger as other voices echoed on the other end, “Yes Colonel, we're just about done here.”
“Bunker boys want their toys back, Peter so ... I'll tell Jimmy that daddy's a big jerk wad.”
Smirking the F.A.S. Trooper grinned before answering, “A good jerkwad. You him that!”
“Sure. Just … ugh ... nevermind. Call me when you're off, okay? Love you.” The Director's finger kiss held for a moment before she planted marks on the camera screen.
“Love you too Kelsey. Try to...” Peter blinked as the screen cut off and in a spur of the moment provoked several, virally strung curse words. Sighing, briefly opened his wallet, staring towards a picture featuring a smiling couple and a 2 year old boy. After a time, the trooper stalked away, stashing the photo with delicate precision …
Peter Táo – U-Arm Wing
“Whoa, we're half way there,” Peter sang, crouching below the sandbags in an effort to round off several arm warm-ups, “Whoaaaaaaa, livin' on a prayer ...”
The F.A.S. Trooper had somehow found a position parallel the MG positions and found himself staring out towards the empty streets. Downtown Chicago was ugly as fark, but given the way ADAM and Bunker Security called the shots, Peter simply followed orders. He wasn't sure what the other squads were up to, but given that the recent Battalion casualties, he could only hope the muties in Shadow wouldn't get the first jump. Mutant Colossi and Frankenfark were bad enough, but out in the wastelands, Peter could only guess what sort of abominations prowled the Shadow Zones.
In the distance, the Washington native watched as the insertion chinooks peeled away and into the distance, marked by the fading beautiful white-yellow halos so prevalent from most live illustrations of the Kopp-Etchells effect. Somewhere, several hundred miles away, he knew Kelsey and his son were boarding similar looking chinooks enroute to Chicago as part of an aid package to accelerate and continue gene and anti-virus research following Annie's disappearance.
"She brings home her pay. For love, for love ..." his earbuds rang, earning the specialist's smile.
“Sheeeeit, I can't believe they gave you F.A.S. homies som o'dat power armor,” the black machine gunner to his left voiced, “Man, dat shit's fucking beautiful!”
“Yeah well, I'm not taking any chances, I mean this is farking U-Arm we're talking about," Peter voiced as he completely stashed his MP6 and earbuds, "The way I'm seeing everything, they're gonna try to cut us off, but long as we got our flanks covered, it looks like you're gonna fucking kill something with that MG!” His eyes stared intently towards the post cataclysm streets. He had a feeling Bunker Chicago Security would redeploy him, but with his rolling paychecks, futuristic toys, and christmas-ey firepower, the trooper couldn't complain. He wasn't in the mood for debate given that some higher up decided that upgrades were overdue.
“Ay man, do I look like I'm worried,” the left machine gunner said. “Wid you, brother man, imma waste dese mofos.”
Nodding Peter tapped his earpiece as extra transmissions flooded the radio net. Chatter about rigging op zones 8 and 12, power armor infantry escorts, a tank, and riflemen squads nearing the Sergeant's position. That was the first wave and if he didn't know any better, he could almost smell probing teams and infiltration tactics. The F.A.S. Trooper already watched as Marvin plugged the center between the two gunners, but surmised their exposed left and right sectors were prone for flanking. On the other hand, if Bunker Security got the job, maybe they could setup killzones or enfilade fire within a reasonable error margin. A reasonable margin of error, Peter mused as he lifted his LMG cautiously jogged his way to reinforce James' position within the two-story corner store.
“Relocating near your position, Yorkie to follow your lead. Cover my six,” Peter muttered into the radio as he carefully swept the corner store's first floor for the best possible overwatch position to James' position and the rear intersection ...