O-Dog - Siege of Cleveland

The mutants had been at it all night again. O-Dog and the rest of his raider garrison had been subjected to their bestial war cries, drum beats, and even a particularly annoying mutant with a loudspeaker who’d been threatening to eat them all for the past three nights straight. The days were full of assaults: mindless waves of ghoul fodder interspersed with the occasional attack from the dumb brutes. The fighting was hard, but at least the mutant bastards were right there and able to get their heads bashed in by a few strong swings. The nightly taunting was far worse, as it meant being subjected to that noise without being able to do anything about it.

Despite the situation, the raiders’ morale was still high and each day of successfully repelling assault waves emboldened the defenders further. O-Dog, however, was less hopeful. There had been yet no word from The Pitt on reinforcements, and the cynical O-Dog wasn’t sure if that meant they weren’t coming - or there was no one to receive the message. They’d heard nothing since the siege began about the on-going invasion down south and whether or not the line was holding along The Ohio. For all they knew, The Pitt herself was under direct siege right now.

Adding to the bleakness in O-Dog’s mind was the fact that Vikia’s scouts had been explicitly tasked with ensuring that Cleveland would have adequate warning in the face of a sudden assault from the north. No warning had been given however, and O-Dog could only think of one reason why The Pitt’s most experienced and loyal scout would fail in her duties. It wasn’t one he wished to dwell on for very long.

The grizzled veteran raider looked out over the high barricades towards the mutant army. He could easily see the hundreds of campfires they were burning in the distance, encircling the city completely on land. Worse than the sight and sound of them though was the smell - the sickly sweet scent of roasting human flesh being cooked carried far indeed.

“There must be thousands of the fuckers out there,” he muttered with a grimace as he thought about the next day’s battle to come.

“We’ll kick their asses, same as yesterday, same as every day until The Pitt comes…” one of his officers replied as she spat over the wall.

“Yeah how many days can we do that for, five, ten, a hundred?” O-Dog snarled, “We can’t hold out forever. And if The Pitt isn’t coming…we need to figure out a plan.”

The blonde raider officer, Carla, looked to O-Dog with a quizzical expression,

“You mean run for it?”

O-Dog growled, “Fuck no bitch. I mean taking the fight to those mutant assholes instead of sitting here and waiting for them to come to us. We’re raiders of The Pitt, not some pissant wasteland crew. ”

“What are you thinkin’ then?”

Before O-Dog could reply, they heard a shout from farther down the line, one of the tower lookouts was frantically signaling towards the dockyards, When O-Dog strained his eyes to see through the darkness, he could make out the shape of a silent vessel slipping in. His initial reaction was one of alarm, thinking that it could only be some sort of mutant surprise attack coming from the lake - but the stylistic crest visible on the vessel soon dispelled that fear.

O-Dog practically jumped down off the ramparts and made his way through the blasted ruins of downtown Cleveland until he arrived at the shipyard.

As expected, the vessel was already being welcomed in and its metal gang plank had been extended onto the docks. A long line of soldiers in armored miner suits and full facemasks were swiftly coming down from the ship armed with heavily modified industrial tools for weapons along with Type 93 assault rifles. The promised Luthine reinforcements had finally arrived.

The Luthine commander stepped up to O-Dog, who couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight of the much needed extra manpower. Even before the commander removed his mask, O-Dog could immediately recognize who it was by stature alone. The 7ft tall wall of muscle was unmistakable by anyone with even a remote familiarly with the northern maritime kingdom.

“Jon De Blay,” O-Dog said warmly, extending his hand in greeting to the infamous heir to the throne of Luth.

The bald, scarred face of Jon De Blay broke into a smile of his own and extended a hand to meet O-Dog’s greeting. The Pitt commander reflexively winced in pain to feel the crushing strength of the Luthine prince’s grip.

“Compliments of my father,” Jon announced in a low guttural voice, “I bring our finest warriors to battle. The Sons of Iron are here.”

“Glad to have you,” O-Dog replied with a nod, “There’s a shit ton of work here that needs doing. I’ve asked The Pitt for aid, but so far have heard nothing. The mutants are jamming our radio communications and none of the runners I’ve sent out has managed to return. I’ve no idea when or if help is coming.”

“We make our own way then,” Jon grunted, as he hefted up his large spiked war pick, “I want to see if these mutants bleed like men.”

Madison Li - The Pitt - The Door of Haven

It had been a lengthy walk from the building they installed the relay terminal, but quite informative, from the glimpses she got through the close formation of guard around her as Abaddon and Harlock led her towards what was almost certainly Haven and an audience with Marie. The deference they showed to Marie's very name made it clear she was very much in command here. Thanks to Charlotte, she was able to read Ishmael Ashur's Scroll. It didn't surprise her at all that the man they described in that Scroll survived being abandoned and fought his way to the top of the Pitt's society. What did surprise her is that James's boy made a uncharacteristically pragmatic move by siding with Ashur. It's something Nathan would probably do, especially with a child involved, but The Lone Wanderer had been an idealist like James, which surprised her.

Abbadon wasn't at all pleased to see Madison Li again, even though her presence was clearly a lifeline they they eagerly sought....the feeling was entirely mutual. She hadn't told Nathan, but she had been in A Ring at the Citadel the day Abaddon's treachery became manifest. She had seen with her own eyes poor Arthur give his life to save Scribe Valaincourt and others from the Sentry Bot. All the Brotherhood's hopes for the future cut down in a hail of 5mm. They promoted him posthumously to Knight and eventually he was buried with Owyn in Appalachia when he passed in turn. Arthur's death was the first of the series of blows that led to Owyn's early death. Valaincourt felt responsible and hasn't been herself ever since. Once her comrades learned Abaddon was still alive, a vendetta would be launched, unless stopped, that was a big problem for Nathan to manage. The former-Brotherhood faculty were every bit as vindictive as Nathan himself, just not as good at hiding it as he is. She knew a lot more about Nathan's doings on the surface than he thought she did. Sinjin and Kellogg were far from the only people he had personally disposed of with ruthless savagery for threatening something or someone that he cared about. She shuddered to think of the repercussions if Father hadn't been alive when he first found his way to the Institute. she squelched that line of thought and turned her attention to now. The antagonism between Harlock and Abaddon could be useful, but she didn't place much store in it. However much they hated each other, they would unify in the face of a external threat...Harlock out of zeal, and Abaddon to survive and hold on to what authority he had here.

It had been embarrassing when one of the Raiders who greeted her had actually started worshiping her, what the street preachers were saying on the walk here was downright alarming. They were turning Atom, Ashur himself, and Marie into a form of the Christian Holy Trinity. An army of religious fanatics, powered by the very real and growing strength of the Pitt's industries, was an extreme threat. If the war was won, the Pitt would only grow stronger. They needed to be prepared for the Post-War situation....hopefully they would be able to maintain at least civil relations, but that couldn't be assumed...There was certainly much to discuss back at the Institute.

She was drawing attention, a curious mob began to gather around them to get a look at her. With a shouted command, the guards began to threaten them with a power tool of some sort to open a path to the gates, they quickly opened, then closed again as she passed through. Now having a better view, she noted the large steel statue of Ashur, and the honor-guard around it. No sooner did they reach the massive doors they opened and they entered. Entering Haven, she saw that it had been completely restored, with great reverence and no expense spared. Then they entered the Throne Room, at the end of the room was aside from guards and courtiers, a slim young woman dressed in white, seated on her throne. Near her was a older woman, a Raider by the looks of it, carrying a staff with a blackened skull, presumably that of Wehrner, affixed to it.

"“You stand before Queen Marie Ashur, Lady of The Pitt, daughter of Lord Ashur," the woman intoned gravely, "she-who-wades-the-three-rivers, Commander of Ashur’s Army, ruler of…”

“That’s enough Lulu…thank you,” Marie interrupted as she rose from her Throne and stepped down off of the dais it sat upon and approached Dr. Li, “You may go.”

Lulu bowed deeply to her God-Queen and stepped away from the throne.

Harlock's body language immediately stiffened as Marie approached. Clearly this was not normal behavior for her. Madison concentrated on making no unusual moves. She looked so young, barely out of her teens, but was the undisputed sovereign of the largest industrial power East of the Mississippi. Hopefully her father had prepared her for the sternest test any of them had ever faced.

“Dr. Madison Li I presume?", Marie asked, "I am Marie Ashur. Thank you for coming here directly, we greatly appreciate your assistance. My soldiers are holding the line as best they can against The Mutant Horde, but I’m afraid that without help we might be overcome in time much like The Brotherhood was. I have sent overtures to Commander Sutler of The Enclave as well who is facing the same threat we are…my hope is that we can all come together in some fashion to coordinate our efforts.”

Madison, knew, of course that the Pitt was in contact with Sutler and his goons....nor did Madison blame Marie for it...but it was still painful to hear that man's name. She idly wondered who would be sent when the time came to open diplomatic channels to Sutler...Nathan was well aware of what happened at Project Purity and would never let her be in the same room with Sutler, even if there weren't standing orders in the Capital Wasteland to shoot her on sight.

"Yes, Ma'am", Madison replied diplomatically. "As the Lead Scientist of the Advanced Systems Department, I am a member of the Directorate, the governing body of the Institute. The Enemy is too strong for any of us to face alone....it will take a concerted effort to survive this, and we are mobilizing to assist in any way we can."

“Abaddon has relayed to me your offers and suggestions for mutual cooperation which you told to Harlock", she continued smiling warmly, "All of them are entirely agreeable to me, and I would like to start right away. For the railway - you probably already know that my raiders have a line that transports goods to DC. We could easily create a branch line which will connect The Commonwealth as well and allow for mass transport of men and material much more easily. Provided, of course, we break the siege of Cleveland quickly and ensure that the ore-road is reopened to allow for production of the rails”

Cleveland, according to Ayo's briefing, was the Pitt's main sea port, it alone in their lands had the facilities for unloading the taconite pellets from the Great Lake ore carriers that the Pitt's steel industry depended on. Undoubtedly, the Enemy also knew that. Madison was a Scientist, not a economist or logistican, but she understood how grave the situation was. Intervention was unavoidable.

“If you have any further questions for me - I will be glad to answer them", Marie concluded, "Otherwise I will allow you to do whatever you need to do to coordinate with your people. As Harlock has no doubt told you, you are also welcome to stay in Haven if you so choose for as long as needed. My handmaids have quarters prepared for you.”

"If I may, Ma'am", Madison replied, "I would appreciate it if you could arrange a briefing for me on what is known of the situation in Cleveland. I will report back to the Institute, perhaps we can assist the garrison there in their defense. Also, I've brought with me reports on what we have on the Unity so far, which admittedly isn't much yet. Any information on the Unity and their forces you could provide would be of great assistance."

The Pitt

“Of course,” Marie nodded, and then motioned towards her Guard Captain, “Captain Harlock is currently organizing our reserves to mount a relief mission north. He can give you a detailed description on the current situation. Harlock -,” She continued, addressing the Captain directly, “Please give Dr. Li a briefing immediately along with Abaddon. Make sure that Inquisitor Braxton from The Brotherhood is invited as well.”

“Yes my lady,” Harlock bowed.

“We will of course share any and all information we have on The Unity as well. Going forward I would also assume we should establish regular communication on The Unity’s movements and any intel we glean separately. I won’t speak for Commander Sutler, but I would imagine he’d be interested in any such arrangement as well.”

---

In less than an hour the relevant members of the impromptu war council had been assembled in a small sparsely furnished meeting room on one of the top floors within Haven. Led by Captain Harlock, Dr. Li was escorted promptly to the room.

Abaddon was already present of course with his usual dour appearance, but another Brotherhood woman was there as well. She was a stern looking woman in her mid-thirties, with long straight blonde hair, glasses and wearing the dark colored scribe robes of a Midwestern Inquisitor. The woman glanced up from her notes, sprawled out on the table she and Abaddon were seated around to appraise Dr. Li as she entered. The woman looked worn and haggard, her appearance denoting years of sleepless nights and tireless work against an unrelenting foe - and the obvious suffering caused by a very recent personal loss.

“You’ve already met Abaddon of course,” Harlock said, nodding towards the rogue Scribe. He then gestured towards the weary Midwesterner, “And this is…”

“Sophia Braxton,” the robed woman said, interrupting the Guard-Captain to introduce herself, “Senior Inquisitor with the Order of the Shield. In Paladin-Lord Traven’s absence, I am currently the ranking member of the Brotherhood of Steel in-exile here in The Pitt. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, my Order has heard only little of your ‘Institute’ and I’m eager to know more. Abaddon has told me as well that you worked with a splinter group of our Brotherhood once, led by a so-called “Elder” Lyons, and that there are members of this group within your organization currently. I’d be very curious to meet with them at some point in the future.”

Abaddon frowned at the mention of the phrase ‘splinter group’ but seemed to bite his tongue and refrained from rebuking the Inquisitor. Current allegiances not-with-standing, the aged Scribe obviously still held onto some deep seeded grudges regarding the Brotherhood's schism.

“Well IF we are down with the introductions,” He croaked, “Perhaps we can continue with the briefing?”

Abaddon removed a compact pre-war device from one of the many utility pockets along his belt and clicked a button, producing a holographic map which spread out across the table. Being old U.S. military tech, outdated even before the war, the hologram was crude and not terribly well detailed, but it was easily serviceable for their purposes.

“As you are no doubt aware, the forces of The Pitt and Midwestern Remnants are holding a defensive line along the Ohio,” Abaddon traced a bony finger down the small colored representation of the river, “Wildly unsuccessful pre-war irrigation projects caused an artificial ford near Steubenville, making it one of the only places the Unity army can cross en-masse. The majority of The Pitt’s army and the entirety of the Midwestern forces are dug in across the ford, and thus far have held well. The Raiders we have there are of varying quality, but mostly consist of light to heavy infantry with a smattering of reprogrammed industrial bots.”

“Midwestern forces consist primarily of a small core of power armored Knights supplemented with Calculator pacification enforcement robots - of different classes,” Inquisitor Sophia chimed in, “We have a single Behemoth class robot there as well, although per General Barnaky’s contingency protocols it will be kept in reserve unless and until all other reasonable options have been exhausted.”

“The Pitt has amassed a large force of pre-war artillery as well,” Harlock added, “Repaired by and kept fed by our ammunition presses here in The Pitt. Fresh shells for the artillery and ammo for the rest of the raiders are sent daily by train to the front - and will for as long as our production can be maintained.”

“Which brings us to the situation in Cleveland,” Abaddon continued, running his finger up north to the shore of Lake Erie, “From what we’ve gathered, a previously undetected force of mutants has begun an assault on Cleveland. How they managed to slip past our scouts is unknown, but we think it may have something to do with this force being led by a large group of what the mutants call ‘Nightkin’.”

“They’re experts at guerilla warfare and covert actions, essentially acting as The Unity’s elite scouts, assassins, and shock troops when needed,” Sophia explained, “They utilize stealth boys and run heavy on whatever insane implants or augmentations The Unity’s scientists can give them.”

Harlock nodded “We were expecting an attack on Cleveland eventually, just not this soon - we could have used more time to gather up some raiders from our vassal gangs and outfit levies from settlements in our territory. As it is - we’ve got a small force of reserves that we held back from the front, my guardsmen, and whatever slave fighters we trust enough to arm to send in. Not enough to break whatever siege is ongoing on their own.”

“To that end we’ve sent a request of aid to our allies in Luth, and to Sutler in DC as well, “ Abaddon said with a grimace, “Though we’ve heard no response as of yet from either - although both Luth and The Enclave are currently under threat from a mutant army in the Great Lakes and Appalachia respectively so its unknown if they’ll be able to send any sort of aid.”

“If the siege is broken however,” the old scribe continued, “Then we can continue to feed The Mill, and it in turn can supply both The Enclave and The institute with ballistic weaponry and ammunition in spades - along with steel or other materials which might be needed for the war effort. Enough to turn the tide.”

“Enough to launch a counter-offensive,” Inquisitor Sophia remarked with a hungry glint in her eye, “Enough to pay back those mutant monsters a thousand times over for the death and destruction they’ve caused across a continent.”

Madison Li - The Pitt - Relay Terminal

Madison felt the briefing had been quite informative. She had been introduced to someone new, Sophia Braxton. Sophia is a Senior Inquisitor for the Midwestern Brotherhood, at the moment the most senior representative in the Pitt, with Paladin-Lord Traven and, according the Sophia, all of their remaining forces at the Front along the Ohio. A rather stern woman, and clearly overworked, she also had a air about her of having suffered a devastating personal loss. She had expressed interest in meeting the survivors of Eowyn's Chapter, knowing Charlotte she invited her to relay to Lexington at her convenience. One of the messages she was sending across was to her, to let her know and to request a copy of her book on the Lyon's Expedition.

Another was a private message to Nathan to immediately inform her about Abaddon. It would be an unforgivable breach of trust if she and her comrades learned of his presence here from an outsider. Madison found it quite ironic, as she knew he had killed people on the surface for much less than what Abaddon had done, that he would now have to talk them down from trying to assassinate him. On the other hand, if anyone could it was Nathan...he was definitely better at it than her.

The main message, of course, was the information from the briefing. The audio recording she had (openly) made, a copy of Abaddon's holomap, her observations, and other documents she had been provided. The Pitt leadership was requesting direct intervention in the deteriorating situation at Cleveland, and they had little choice but to agree. All their iron ore imports came through Cleveland, if it fell their industries would grind to a halt in months, if not weeks. They had to act now.

And finally, a message to her staff to send her clothes for a few days. The hazmat suit made her stick out like a sore thumb, and after the vaccine they had given her, TDC wasn't a concern anymore.

Reaching the terminal and pad, she saw that the work of relaying in the boxes and containers of the MASH unit was already underway, with new shipments relaying into the large open space at the center of the building as fast as the Pitt workers could process them. She had put in a request for enough vaccine to vaccinate the staff of the MASH, with extras, they'd be sent though once they could be vaccinated.

Stepping up to the console, she connected her Pip-Boy and began transmitting the messages to the Institute. Once the screen indicated they had been received, she disconnected the Pip-Boy.

"Thank you", Madison said to the leader of Harlock's men who had escorted her here. "I'm done here, we can go back to Haven now."


Jimmy, Cuyahoga Heights, 11:30 PM

Jimmy sat, crouched in the brush, grimly listening as the firing...the diversion intended to aid in his escape...began to escalate to his north. His instructions were to wait 30 minutes before heading south again. It had taken two of the three Stealthboys he had been given to cross the enemy front line, but between them and the freshly skinned (and reeking) hide of a ghoul the Bosses had sewn him into, he had made it through undetected. The next step was to follow the Cuyahoga River south unti he reached I-80, follow I-80 east towards Akron. The Bosses didn't know if Akron had been taken, but if it was he should head to Youngstown, pick up the Iron Road, and get to the first telegraph station he could find.

Jimmy was a slave, handed over to the Bosses when he was fifteen by his parents when they couldn't pay their tribute of crops for two years in a row. He had been put to work on Whiskey Island as the lowliest of the Ore Hogs...a shoveler who removed from the holds of the iron boats what ore the mightly Hulett unloaders couldn't reach. It was a grueling existance, though it could've been worse as 1) Cleveland is Paradise complared to the Pitt itself, and 2) at least the Boss who ran Whiskey Island for O-Dog was all about efficiency and sustained output and was willing to spend to keep his crews alive if that's what it took to unload any iron boat you care to name in eight hours. But Jimmy didn't want to spend the best years of his life shoveling ore so he volunteered when they asked around for couriers. O-Dog offered him his freedom, and a place on the Crew (with successfully completing the deed being equivalent to winning in the Hole) if he suceeded. They didn't blink when he counter-offered with that and an apprentice spot as a Leg-Man, operating a Hulett himself. One of the most elite jobs in Cleveland. They agreed, on the condition he proved himself worthy of the job, as only the best and most trusted soldiers got to run a Hulett. That's when he realized just how fucked the City was if someone didn't get help. From there it was a week of relentless training on basic fieldcraft and map-reading, and what landmarks to look for on his way out. It wasn't enough, really, but it was the best they could do with the time that they had.

Jimmy heard movement on the road just to the east of him come from the south, heading N. He heard the barking of their mutant dogs, but they did not sound off, so the disgusting outfit the Bosses insist he wear turned out to be worth it, after all. On the Cuyahoga, about 30 yards or so to the West, he noticed a john boat slowly moving upstream, shining lights on both banks as they cruised as fast as the sputtering engine could take them. Eventually, both faded away to the north. After waiting another ten minutes, the half hour had passed, so he cautiously began to head south, periodically veering west to realign with the river.

O-Dog brought his super-sledge down hard on the charging Ghoul thrall, the creature's head popped open like a water sack sending stinking blood and bits of rad-rotting brain flying in all directions. He immediately turned to face a super-mutant preparing to strike with a heavy spiked board. The monster raised the crudely shaped weapon clutched in its oversized grip as it prepared to bash the Pitt Raider’s head in with one brutal motion.

O-Dog hefted his sledge and parried the blow, before striking upward with a rocket-assisted swing that tore the mutant's weapon right out of its hand. The mutant was prepared to batter him to a pulp with its bare hands now, but before it had a chance to get its hands on him O-Dog drew his sawed-off from his hip with his left hand, quickly blasting the green monster with both barrels.

The mutant crumpled to the ground, and O-Dog stepped over top of his fresh kill, surveying the fighting that was still going on all around him. His raiders were giving a good accounting of themselves. The Pitt’s force had sallied out from the Cleveland bulwark and were pushing up into the surrounding siege trenches of the mutant army. The arrival of the Luthine shock troops had been a Marie-sent miracle, and O-Dog watched with bloodthirsty admiration as Jon De Blay and his super-heavy infantry in their armored mining suits cut a terrible swathe through the mutant lines, leading their counter attack like the steel-tipped point of a spear.

The mutants had probably been anticipating some sort of sally action, but they obviously had not planned on the encircled raider garrison still being able to put up such a spirited fight. The trenches had been lightly defended, and it was evident that they’d pulled some of their forces away from the siege to ransack local settlements for meat, slaves, and whatever trinkets the abominations valued as loot.

The overconfidence of the commander of this force was all-too apparent, and it seemed clear to O-Dog that the coordination of the mutant army was not as well established as they had previously thought. The mutant force assaulting the Great Lakes region had apparently not told the army here that they did not, actually, control the Lakes: and thus Luth was still able to reinforce its ally by ship. That had been an unexpected wrench thrown into the well-laid mutant plans for the siege.

O-Dog watched with pride as the black and gold banners of The Pitt were being raised in trench after trench, in defiance of the ugly red-yellow radiation symbols that this ‘Unity’ had dared call a battle flag. The assault was going well, remarkably well, but O-Dog had a nagging itch in the back of his neck that was telling him something wasn’t right. His instincts, once again, were telling him to be wary.

If anyone else under his command had been leading the assault, the raiders might very well have continued charging right up into the mutant camp with wild abandon. Hell if the Luthine Prince Jon had tactical command, they would have kept going until they drove the mutants back all the way to the gates of The Pitt. However Jon De Blay was not in command, O-Dog was, and the wary Pitt Commander had learned much from his mentor Krenshaw - and from Lord Ashur for that matter.

O-Dog ordered the assault to halt, and the word went swiftly up and down the line for all Pitt raiders to hold their current positions and dig in. His raiders might have looked no different than their counterparts in The Commonwealth or Capital Wastes - but what set The Pitt apart was its discipline. When a Captain of The Pitt gave an Order - there was no questioning the command. The raiders stopped and did exactly as they’d been ordered to like a well-oiled machine of The Mills.

The same couldn’t be said for the hot-blooded Luthine Prince of course. Jon De Blay only stopped when he realized that The Pitt Raiders were no longer supporting his advance. Reluctantly, Jon retreated back to the raider line, and within a few minutes the predictable result came when O-Dog was faced with the furious figure of Jon barreling through the trench line towards him.

“Why have we stopped!” Jon demanded. O-Dog had no doubt that the nearly 7ft tall giant of a man could snap him like a twig if he had the mind to, but despite his reputation for clearly having the ‘brawn’ to his sister Ellie’s ‘brain’, Jon was not about to do something so stupid.

O-Dog met his gaze, and did his best to appear intimidating before the over muscled Luthine. “Because I ordered it. We succeeded in taking the first few trenches and broke the encirclement, but we don’t have the numbers to take on that army. If we continue advancing, we’ll be overextended and slaughtered.”

“We could have smashed their lines, coward!” Jon roared, “The siege could be over here and now.”

“And if not? If we got ourselves surrounded and slaughtered, what would happen then Jon? Use that big fat head of yours and think for a fuckin’ minute. Imagine if the mutants captured Cleveland and sacked it - destroyed the great Huletts and burned the harbor. We’d never recover. The Pitt’s smelters would run cold and we’d have no way to outfit our armies or supply our allies. Imagine what would happen to The Pitt - no, to the entire fucking east. No, the risk is too great. I won’t, I can’t, risk Cleveland. We’ve pushed out - we’ve shown our strength. Now we hold.”

“I don’t like it,” Jon sneered, and spat into blood-soaked ground, “It feels like defeat.”

“Make no mistake, its a victory - just not a total one,” O-Dog added, as he looked back towards the mutant line.

As the two commanders gazed out at the mutant force, O-Dog suddenly became cognizant of something shimmering just out of sight on the wings of the mutant army. He focused on it, confused by the sight which looked like evaporating water on a hot wasteland day. Jon obviously noticed it too, and strained his eyes to try and make sense of it.

Suddenly the Nightkin forces which had been waiting on the wings de-cloaked their stealth boys, revealing themselves for the pincer they’d intended to be. There were hundreds of the blue monsters, all heavily armed and armored, waiting for the opportunity to slaughter. Had the charge continued, the raiders would have been cut off and annihilated without doubt. The mutant leader wasn’t a fool - he’d baited them with an opening, and Jon and O-Dog had very nearly sprung the trap.

Jon looked to O-Dog, a look of resigned acknowledgement etched on his face. He knew all too well that they’d very nearly lost everything, and that look was about the only form of apology the Luthine giant was going to give. O-Dog accepted it gladly.

Yet the mutant commander was not done, nor would the monster fail to have the last laugh. The failure of his plan had not deterred him, and he obviously wanted to ensure that Pitt Raiders boost in morale was short-lived. He wanted them all to remember that they were still going to die.

One of the mutants in the forward ranks blew on a massive crude trumpet made from the horn of deathclaw, which bellowed such a shrill hideous note that it caused all the raiders in the trenches to look towards the source.

O-Dog then watched with morbid fascination as a large telephone pole was hefted up by brutish mutant hands to stand tall behind the front rank, clearly visible to the raiders below. A figure hung from the pole like a crucified victim, the naked body of a female raider: bloodied and bearing the clear signs of mistreatment and torture.

O-Dog recoiled in horror as he realized who it was. The still-living woman lifted her head, her purple hair was stained with her own blood but it still shone quite visibly in the bright wasteland sun. Even the stalwart Jon De Blay grimaced at the sight of the mutant’s grisly totem, intended to mock and terrify the assembled raiders as they were forced to look up on the wretched figure.

It was Vikia. O-Dog knew at once that his worst fears regarding the fate of the Pitt’s best scout had been realized. There would be no celebrations outside Cleveland tonight. None would have the stomach for it.