The team didn't waste any time moving to the Vertibird as the caverns below the space needle started to rupture and cave in from the explosions. Wraith flew in and picked them all up. Feeling a duty in his gut, Andrew had Wraith stop near the Behemoth's corpse and he went inside the ruined building where Phoenix had died. He picked apart the rubble and found Phoenix's destroyed corpse, barely anything left of the poor man. He found what looked like his shoulder after deducing where his head was and picked it apart a little. Wraith called out in the comms but he ignored it as he picked out a small metal chip. Phoenix's Dog tag. He gripped it and went back to the vertibird, getting in with the others and preparing for the ride home. He sat next to archangel again and spoke out to the others, broken and battered from the long fought battle in the city below them. He kept it short and sweet, commending them for their work and their bravery in taking down the Behemoth and for destroying the vault. He held Phoenix's Dog Tag up, showing them the last remains of Phoenix. He promised to give him as proper a burial as he could. The man deserved it.

A rumbling shook the vertibird as a shockwave hit it. Wraith kept it from going down, but Andrew stood and went to the door, he opened it up and saw something that nearly brought a tear to his eye. He stepped aside so the others could see. In the city, the Space Needle, one of the last monuments from the old world, one of the last beacons of the American life, was breaking apart and falling to the ground. After two hundred years, it had finally fallen. The shockwave from the 10,000 ton piece of oldworld metal crashing down onto the earth not only crushed the vault, completing their objective two-fold, but leveling a city block around it and destroying tiny buildings even farther out, sending out a powerful screech of metal on stone. Wraith held the position in the air for a few minutes as they watched the domino pieces cascade around the city, setting off a chain reaction that destroyed undetonated mutant explosives and toppled towers. When it started to calm down a little, Andrew closed the door, and they were on their way home, to Eagle Point.

_____

The reception that awaited them when Aria set down in the frozen, snow covered base. Having barely found the beacons that surrounded the helipad. Advanced Power-armor hellfire clad soldiers were awaiting them, escorting them through the blizzard toward a place that would warm their hearts, a warm yellow light near the heart of the base that they all knew as the Barracks. The guards stopped near the doors however and lead them around the barracks. Their warm beds and soft pillows would have to wait as instead, they were lead to another room near the barracks, past the alluring smell of the freshly made biscuits and steak of victory and to the briefing room. The guards took places next to the door and waited for the squad to step through themselves.

Awaiting them was several unexpected things. The first was the president of the enclave, standing before them, his hair dark gray in color, relatively short, turned up in a small spike near the front, he had a narrow head, a stubble surrounding his pronounced chin. He had a tribal tattoo surrounding his left eye. The eyes themselves were a dark blue color but the way he glared at them...not glared, but perceived them, it was obvious that he had killed hundreds before him. He had the same look in his eyes as bear, terrifying. He did not wear a suit like many other leaders, he instead wore a dark gray set of combat gear with a black laserpistol on both his thighs and on each side of his ribs. The man was serious about personal protection it seemed. He was thin, but the muscles in his arms showed that he was no pushover.

The second thing was what looked like a scientist. with a third arm. He stood there, two of his arms behind his back, patiently awaiting the moment to greet them. The third thing made a couple squadmates reach for their weapons. A fucking deathclaw...in a Periwinkle Vest? It was tight, but it fit him nicely. He didn't move to attack or anything, he just stood there, silently, large gloves on his gigantic hands. Calming down, the squad moved into the room fully and saluted the president of the Enclave. His voice was soft, but restrained, it was obvious that there was a military genius behind it. He spoke directly to them, not making them think that they were lesser than him, nor better, but equal. "Eagle Claw, you have done America proud this day." He approached the group and gripped each of their hands, crushing them with his American brawn. "You have successfully completed your first mission and proved that you have made Project Eagle more than anything I could have ever hoped it could be. In the space of a day, with but nine extremely talented and skilled individuals, you have achieved a substantial victory that would have taken a week for a army of two hundred standard soldiers to replicate. Congratulations...I see however that you are down to eight now...I apologize for your loss. From what I understand, your squadmate, Icarus Rose, Also known as Phoenix, was a dear friend. His death came all too soon. Enjoy the next forty-eight hours, Eagle Claw. Mourn his loss as you see fit and bask in the glory of your victory against tyranny. Upon hearing of his death a few hours ago, I forwarded two very special personnel to join you in Eagle Point. They are of the highest caliber and will be nothing if not a massive asset to our cause."

He backed up and gestured towards the scientist first. "Let me introduce Dimitri Romanov, one of the Enclave's greatest minds. In addition to personal experiments for the betterment of the Enclave, he is also your primary means of receiving augmentation, should you so wish, and power armor research. He is also the figure head in our FEV vaccine project. Should you encounter any individuals in the field that happens to be coated with FEV and starting the transformation into one of the vile supermutants, bring them here and the good professor should be able to help them." The Professor bowed to the squad and spoke. "A pleasure, I am sure. When in the field you may address me as Claw." Next the president gestured toward the Deathclaw. "This fine creature was the result of the Professor's efforts, please get to know Leinhart Roosevelt. He will be joining you in your next mission as a test run to see how well he handles under extreme duress." Next the Deathclaw stepped toward the group, looming over even Golem, and placed his hand behind his back, bowing elegantly. "A...pleasure to meet you, sirs and madams. I hope to be a great asset to you and the squad, mayhaps one day becoming a more permanent member of the squad. For the sake of a codename on the field, feel free to address me as Scissors. Outside of the field, I will be acting as your quartermaster. When you are ready, find me in the axillary barracks where I will take your weapons and armor. I assure you, I will not damage them with my claws." He backed up and took his place next to the president as he spoke once again.

"Finally, a new squadmate will be here tomorrow morning to give you a medic role. Enjoy your time off, Eagle Claw. You have earned it." With that, the President stepped past them and to his power armor escort to take him back to his Vertibird so he can be off to other parts of the Enclave. Dimitri bowed again and spoke. "You can find me in my lab near the helipad should you require me." He stepped past the group now, shaking the hands of a couple with his robotic claw, and exited out the door. Things were a little tense in the room because of the deathclaw. Feeling awkward, he stepped past and exited out the door, leaving Eagle Claw to do as they wished. Andrew spoke first. I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to get some grub. Care to join me whisper?" She looked at him as he stuck out his arm for her to latch onto. She was reluctant, but she shrugged and hooked on and walked with him out the door. The smell of biscuits lingered even in the briefing room.

The defense of the Space Needle and the Vault went without a hitch. A few muties wondered by and took potshots, but they prose no real problem. Soon the Vanguard group left, though there was some tension. It seemed that Ginger had killed one of the locals inside, much to the displeasure of Bear. Archangel put her hand on her own weapons and readied herself for a mutiny, but it seemed that the situation was diffused before shots were fired. This would be the second time Bear nearly shot someone; the first time was due to the Golem's own immaturity, which is thinly justified, but for why he did so against Ginger not so much. If what he said was true, the "girl" had already been exposed to the FEV. The fact that she was found living was more surprising than the fact that she was killed. Either way the scenes was over, and soon Wraith flew down to pick them up. Their mission was done, and how it was time to head back to HQ.

She had expected to ride strait towards HQ, but Deathstroke had them land near the apartment where the behemoth was killed. Archangel herself decided to use this time to reprogram the robots she managed to activate; they would now begin to head towards one of the Enclave's outpost to be picked up, assuming they aren't destroyed. She doubt that any wastelander would have the knowledge to extract any worthwhile data, and even if they did, they would only find a town that the Enclave has authority over. the new frequency she put them on should help label them as Enclave tech once they reach the right hands. Soon after, Deathstroke returned with Phoenix's dog tag. Archangel looked down, noticing she still had his sword. Though it would be best to give it to someone who'd put it to good use, she felt that as one of Phoenix's weapon, it should go with during the burial. "This was his too, Deathstroke." Archangel gave the captain the sword, and sat the rest of the ride in silence.

Than it was back to base. She had to admit, though she had no love for the Enclave, the compound was likely more well armed and defensible than the vault ever could be, and it's mostly above ground. Heavily armed and armored soldiers patrolled the walls, armed with state-of-the-art energy weapons. from her little window on the Vertibird, she spotted a few fools who had recently tried to get to the compound, splattered a few miles out. Why anyone would try to infiltrate the compound is beyond her. She she understood that some people hated the Enclave, but there was no need to be stupid about it. Archangel pushed out those thoughts once they landed, greeted by the armed personnel.

Back at the base, where Archangel is known as Lucy, they were told to go see the president of the Enclave. The smell of food wafted through the air, a pleasant change from the cold and grim of supermutants. But before they could feast, they had to meet the president. With a little research she had learned about the past presidents of the Enclave, including that one strange Eden fellow somewhere to the south. But unlike the past presidents who allowed their personnel protect them, this one looked more dangerous than the towering giants armed with Gatling lasers. Something about him told Lucy that any assassins going after him would have a difficult time putting a bullet into his head, not that she had any plans to do it herself. Her thoughts were actually distracted with the deathclaw in the command center. Granted, after getting over the initial shock, she did notice a lot of restraining devices on him, as well as a gaudy Periwinkle vest. For a moment, Lucy looked to the others and silently asked them if they were seeing what she was seeing. Everyone seemed to notice, so she just stayed silent as the president spoke.

The president congratulated the Eagle Claw for their mission success and sympathized for the lost of Icarus. He than introduced two new members of Eagle Claws, the Deathclaw and someone who looked like a Cyborg. They were Leinhart Roosevelt and Dimitri Romanov respectively. She still was wary of the deathclaw, but the cyborg did not come so much as a surprise since she knew many with mechanical augments, though the third arm was new. After the introductions were over, the Eagle Claw was free to spend the rest of their day as they wished and was dismissed. Andrew and Whisper went to go eat, and Lucy was feeling peckish herself. But instead of heading to the dinning hall she simply said her goodbyes and headed towards the robotics department.

Prior to leaving on the mission, Lucy had commissioned a Eyebot for herself. Initially it was a standard propaganda model, but after some research into their robotics division, she discovered the work of a Dr. Whitley and his model of eyebots. She aimed to create on of similar design, using a powerarmor hull and an enhanced laser weapon. The difficulty came that there was some time before she could obtain a base model of an eyebot, not to mention that she was going to need to do the entire construction herself; most of the other scientist have no interest in her little pet project, and like Whitley before her, not many saw the value of a combat eyebot when the materials could go to use into making power armor instead. But using her own resources and credits she brought what she needed, so they allowed her to go about her business so long as it didn't do anything to disturb the others. Once at her workshop, the first thing she did was make herself a pot of coffee. Than she went to work.

The Bear sat in the virtibird in silence, looking quite different that when he had arrived not long ago. The previously proud warrior, who had sat with his back straight and clad in weapons was now slumped over, weaponless, dented armor clinging to his frame for dear life. The helmet laid uselessly by his side, a wide crack over the left side of his visor. His gray eyes stared down at the floor, his expression one of melancholy rather than of triumph. Even Wraith's playful comments and jibes the entire ride back couldn't cause the still face to crack even the smallest of smiles. Thoughts ran through his mind, mostly of the raider girl that had met an untimely fate in the Vault. The man didn't even budge as the virtibird landed to grab the dog tags of Phoenix.

At the return, Bear shoved his helmet on and followed the others out. They were back at the base, none of the lessers were allowed to see him mope about. Neither were his superiors, for that matter. The battered state of the man worried the pair of guards that began to escort them, but he ignored anything they said about it. Nothing would be able to pry him out of this armor until they were alone. Until he was alone. But, it seemed that it would be a while until then, as they had just arrived at the command center. And, within, there were two things that surprised him.

First and foremost, the deathclaw in the ridiculous vest. For one, it was a fucking deathclaw. Secondly... What the hell was with the vest? The initial shock of the deathclaw being there was replaced by the curiosity of that damn vest. It was just so... well, silly, in his opinion. But, the fact that it was even here was a testament to it being tame. The other thing that surprised him was the name of the cyborg in the room. Dimitri Romanov... A name he hadn't expected to hear again, let alone someone he'd see in person. Though, he would have never been able to tell it was him if he hadn't been introduced. The robotic tone, the deepened voice, most of his face replaced by metal. It would be interesting, once they were alone. And, considering the lack in response, either Dimitri didn't know it was him, or he was much better at keeping himself quiet.

Once again, silence encompassed him as he retreated into himself during the entire meeting. The only thing that broke his concentration was Dimitri coming to shake their hands. When he came to Bear, the scientist paused for a moment, just longer than he had with the others, and then moved on. Once they were dismissed, the Bear - no, Alexander, made a beeline to the barracks. Once there, he stripped out of his armor and pulled on his normal clothes, feeling far too exposed. The long scars on his arms were blotched with new bruises from his fight with the Overlord. Shoving the armor onto a spare cart he found sitting in the hallway, he made his way towards Dimitri's lab. As he turned the corner, he could hear someone ask aloud where his cart had gone. Alexander chuckled as he continued on his way.

It took him far too long to get to the lab. He didn't even bother to knock, using the cart to force the door open. Within, sparks flew around, the cyborg working on something important, no doubt. They stopped a moment after the door was flung open, Dimitri turning to face the intruder. It was impossible to read his face anymore, that metal mask that replaced it blank and unchanging. However, the lack of harsh response meant that he was accepting of Alexander's intrusion. On a long table laid what looked like a man, his torso ripped open to reveal a mass of metal and wires. Alexander raised an eyebrow, and Dimitri shrugged. "Android, likely escaped north from the Commonwealth, as I am told. Shot down about a mile away, decided it would be good to figure out how the Institute has created artificial intelligence. Or a working, humanoid robot, for that matter," he explained, then slowly made his way over to Alexander, as the large man made his way over to him.

They were only a few inches away from each other, the pair staring at each other, Alexander making use of his height to look down on him. After a few moments, they embraced, the two nearly crushing each other. Then they shoved off, the pair going over to stand over the ripped open android. "No explanations, no excuses," Alexander said to Dimitri, shutting down the chance for the latter to explain what had happened all those years ago. "But, how about something new. What do you think of a new project for you to work on?" Dimitri remained silent, but stared intently at Alexander. "Thought that might interest you. And no, it doesn't have to do with the armor. Ever since that last fight, I've been having some pains in my left arm. Bullet lodged in. Got close to a sniper responsible for far to many of our deaths. Never managed to kill him, but I wounded him good. As he did me. I want an arm like yours."

The professor grunted, then crossed his arms, the one protruding from his back clenching into a fist. "One like mine? Or one better?" he asked. Alexander merely smiled, and held out his hand. The pair shook, and then Alexander turned to go.

[b]"We'll have to catch up later. You can tell me all about that deathclaw over drinks, eh?" The two chuckled as Alexander left to go fix his armor.

-

---

Tristan

---

No sooner than his boots had crunched into the snow on the helipad back at Eagle Point was Tristan taking the first drag off a cigarette. He would have done so on the flight back if not for the mouthful he got from Wraith about it. "Light that on my bird and you'll be walking your sorry ass back to base," she'd said. At the moment he'd rolled his eyes and pouted, but now he thought back and it brought a bit of a smirk to his lips. Destroying a monument to the ancient world and flying away as it collapsed on itself seemed like a situation that deserved a smoke. Not to mention he could use it to ease the tension a little. His eyes periodically flicked on and off Bear's massive, hunched over form. The man didn't seem to move at all the entire flight. Tristan snorted at him. Whatever, he could wait until they got back. Wraith's virtibird, Wraith's rules.

Following the armed hellfire troopers to their little reception he realized just how sore he was becoming. He was beginning to feel every little bump and bruise and scrape where the adrenaline of battle had once numbed them. To top it off every muscle in his body started to ache and his joints felt stiff. Just another day's work. When they came upon their welcome party he almost bit the filter off his cigarette. Like everybody else he spent the debriefing uncomfortable with his hand on his weapon. Normally he wouldn't be one to stare but this was a monste-- moment that just plain made him forget his formalities and manners. It was almost as if they hadn't been greeted or congratulated at all. It was just noise in his ear. Briefly he registered the President's lousy consolation for Icarus' death, this was Eagle Claw after all he guessed. Nothing against the President, or the Enclave or anybody involved, it's just that it was talking. It was fucking talking. He didn't snap out of it until Dimitri came by to shake his hand. Finally he remembered himself and shook the strange cyborg's hand firmly with a smile and nod.

"I'll see you two there," Tristan waved at Andrew and Mel as they left then turned to Harrison "Could use a drink. You comin'?"

For now he made his way to the barracks to get out of his armor. He now realized there were light burns on his skin in places. Nothing too serious but he made a mental note to suggest adding a little extra insulation to the inside of the prototype before it's next mission. His left arm was still shaking from the shoulder down from his encounter with the Overlord. A few stretches and movements did nothing to settle it. Even with the technology the human body could only take so much. He would be sore in the morning. No more complaining. Tristan slipped into a t-shirt, a well worn jump-suit (which he left hanging from the belt up) and pair of standard issue combat boots. He washed his face and quickly examined the gap where a tooth used to be. Smiling to see how noticeable it was left him with a small comfort that it somehow suited him. Then he packed up his gear and headed for the new quartermaster in the auxiliary barracks. This should be quick. Going to see a deathclaw on purpose no matter the circumstances seemed like one of the worst of his bad ideas... And that drink was really starting to call his name.

Cautiously, carefully Tristan peeked into the room. Armor and weapons and augmentations and various field gear of all sorts lined the walls and tables and shelves in the large room. There weren't many signs of life here however. He took a few tentative steps inside until a spectacularly shined and polished heavy incinerator caught his eye. A few more steps in and he was able to easily reach out and touch the handle. Several tantalizing notions, all of them involving everything being on fire, drifted into his imagination. He had half a mind to pull the weapon down and see how it felt in his grip, but...

"Good evening," the strange voice came from behind.

"Ah! I was just--" Tristan jumped and turned, "AAAHHH!!"

This was going to take some getting used to.

"Can I help you with something?" the deathclaw asked him ever so politely despite his rudeness.

"I- I'm sorry," Tristan stammered, "You just... You know... You're..." he paused and took a deep breath looking the new quartermaster up and down a few times. It merely stood there patiently with its arms folded behind its back expecting a reply. "Tristan," he introduced himself holding out a hand, "Code name Ginger. Good to meetcha."

The massive gloved talons engulfed his hand causing him to flinch, but it was no worse than shaking hands with a man. "Leinhart Roosevelt. Likewise." though his tone of voice was not convincing, "Now, may I assist you? Or were you just leaving perhaps?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Just droppin' off my gear. And I was wonderin' if, uh..." Tristan gently set down his rifle on an empty table and dug through the very large duffle bag full of his armor and pulled out his helmet, "I was wonderin' how quick you could fix this," he traced a finger along the crack in the visor, "It's just that it's--"

Leinhart turned his head to one side and cut him off, "I am offended you would dare to ask," Tristan thought he could almost see a smile, if deathclaws could even smile at all, "It will be ready for your next mission, of course and I will take care of the rest to be sure."

"Uh, cool. Thanks. For that," Tristan grinned and clapped his hands together.

Then came one very long and very tense and very awkward silence... Leinhart was tilting his head again. Tristan nodded.

"Bye," he said and started his walk out of the room.

"If there is any way I can be of more assistance to you in the future or make any suggestions or take any requests for equipment you think you would have need of in the field," the deathclaw stopped him and briefly glanced at the incinerator, "Please, do not hesitate to ask. Enjoy your evening."

"Yeah," he replied not being able to hold in a little smirk, "Thanks. And uh, you too."

He left at a walk, stretching his arms and upper body out a bit as he made his way to the cafeteria. Leinhart didn't seem so bad. However he did still intimidate the hell out of him even though he would never admit it. Did he say he would be coming on their next mission with them? He'd never seen a deathclaw go at it with another mutant (in fact he had never seen a deathclaw in person). How fantastic would that be to watch, he wondered. When he got to the cafeteria he didn't quite know where to start. However difficult the training and the fighting and however high the expectations The Enclave sure spoiled them when it came to choices here. He'd have to think about it for a moment over a glass of scotch.

---

Ozymandias

---

The door of the virtibird had closed and Ozymandias still stood watching where the tower once was. Great and ancient and glorious. Now annihilated. No longer there to remind those of what was. No longer could it even spark the wonder of those who wandered by who had no knowledge of what had once been. No more monument. No more memories. No more mysteries. Just a desert. He frowned deeply and finally took his seat last of all the others. He uttered not a word.

Now, Ozymandias had heard of the Enclave's past experiments with mind controlled deathclaws and the deadly potential they posed when in the right hands. He had also heard of accidents regarding this that were all too terrible to speak of politely. Regardless he had taken into account the possibility that one day he may run into an Enclave deathclaw during his time in service. But to put it simply he didn't imagine it quite like this. He simply raised a brow upon being introduced. He couldn't say he enjoyed being dwarfed so easily by the creature but he could say he didn't feel quite so put off about the experience as the others seemed to be. If nothing else the experiment piqued his interests immensely along with the augmentations possessed by the enigmatic Dimitri. How amazing to see the brilliant and technologically geared minds the Enclave had access too. Too quickly they were dismissed to go about their business. He would have to take some time to speak to the newest members of Eagle Squad sooner or later.

The assistant to the quartermaster could not have been faced with a worse task. A giant of a man had strode into the auxiliary barracks to unload yet more gear on them. With all the damaged good that had come in so far, he could tell it would be a long night. But there were no words for this. Hell's sake, he could smell the man before he could see him. The set of colossus armor was dinged and scratched here and there, sure, but it was also drenched in a discolored, slimy substance that burned his nose and mouth and made his eyes water. The giant left him with all the work, but not without some very insightful, well thought out, advice that was absolutely going to be the best of help.

"Don't get any of that on you," Ozymandias said.

After getting cleaned up and getting all of his effects in order, he found himself wandering Eagle Point. At least the areas they were restricted to that was. He didn't much feel like food or drink at the moment, though he was growing hungry, and found his thoughts constantly returning to the day's mission. A somehow utterly unsatisfying, disappointing, destructive and substantial victory, as the President had put it. He understood what was expected of them and he knew what to expect. And yet after all was said and done... He felt restless.

Eagle Point wasn't his home any more than Novac, or the desert, or the frozen Canadian wastes, or Vault 100 had been. For a moment he considered that the only way out of this place was death. The Enclave made that quite clear during their training. It didn't bother him though. If the time came he must leave this place he would figure something out. He thought of the one who had managed to leave them today. Death was just another everyday reality, he just wasn't sure how to look at it yet. It was a terrible death to be sure. Yet it was also a good death. He died fighting after all. Nobody makes it out alive and in the end even if all goes well time will waste everyone. That man was no longer living, but even if there was nothing to look forward to after life he could no longer be suffering either. Such a strange thing. Ozymandius wasn't particularly filled with sadness nor joy. He wasn't even sure it was in his best interests to mourn and he didn't feel like any part of this deserved celebration. What then was he to do with all these thoughts of his?

The tower fell again in his memories and that saddened him. If they all fell who would remember or ponder the glory of the past? Ozymandius paused. He was standing by a small window, leaning casually against the wall, somewhat watching the blizzard as it raged on outside. He discovered that he had been tinkering with the little scraps of things he carried with him while deep in thought.

In his enormous hands he held a pair of delicate wings. The lights glinted off the metal like flames.

He decided it wasn't best to think about such things and put the little wings away, wondering if anything more would become of Icarus. It was about time he went and got something to eat.

Harry had watched quietly as the Space Needle finally collapsed, two hundred years past its prime. He didn't particularly associate himself with it, so he supposed that he wouldn't feel anything. Yet, he felt pain. It was as if the memories written right into his DNA were screaming out such destruction of one of the greatest monuments of its age. But is had to be done, or at least the Enclave said it had to be done. Was that not enough proof? The Enclave adored any monument of the past, and would only allow the destruction of one if it HAD to be done. So the team had done it like the dogs they knew themselves to be.

He sighed, as the Vertibird door closed, and grabbed a stick of white chocolate. The last he had packed for this mission, and the largest of them. He tried not to think about anything important as he munched on the treat, and smirked as Tristan was unable to smoke in the Vertibird, due to Wraith's objections. 'Hah, he needs to get something better to put in his mouth' he thought. He leaned back, put his hands down, and closed his eyes. It had been a long day, and his stamina was in the negatives, not just drained. It took barely a minute before Harry was out cold.

And what felt like moments later, he was shaken awake by the rough landing of the Vertibird. Immediately, his hand reached upward, grabbing hold of the steadier. He pulled himself to his feet, groggily, and took a look at the rest of the team. They were in a much better state than him, as usual. He jumped off the vertibird, and walked to their reception, barely noticing the Power Armor clad Enclave special units around them. What caught him off-guard at first was the President. And then the fancy Deathclaw. The words cycled through his brain for the next couple of minutes, while the President spoke.

'The Prez, and a deathclaw in a suit. The Prez, and a deathclaw in a suit' repeated his mind, until the President said "Let me introduce Dimitri Romanov, one of the Enclave's greatest minds.", which shook him back, allowing him to notice the three-armed cyborg like mastermind standing there as well. He listened to the President's speech about him, and then bowed back at the weird scientist.

Eagle Point sure was weird, wasn't it? They now had a gentleman deathclaw as a quartermaster, and a three armed R&D division head. Was this, in any way, normal? Of course not. "I need a drink to deal with this shit, daily.", Harry muttered to himself, and waited for their quiet little reception to get over, quickly. It wasn't every day you met the President, but it was also not every day that you jumped on a four story tall mutant and stabbed its eyes out.

With the reception over quick, he walked over to the benches, and removed the powerful velcro that kept his armor on. The cracked, bloody, and dirty armor fell to the ground with a clang, and he immediately became aware of the need for a bath. He declined Tristan's request to get a drink, in favour of getting clean. He HAD been covered in mutie blood all day, hadn't he? He requested one of the nearby soldiers to take his armor to the quarter master, while he went to the barracks to have a bath.

Devon groaned as he injected another set of chemicals into his arm. Immediately he felt better. Finally, it took long enough. He had to miss his first mission, something embarrassing enough in it's own right. Still, he couldn't be fully blamed for his armor malfunctioning, that wasn't something that could be accounted for by anyone, much less the man who designed it. Still, he'd found the combination to counteract the overload of drugs in his system, though the effects would still rage for days to come. He really needed to talk to Romanov about helping him design the more technical parts of the armor. It would be terrible to overdose on drugs in the middle of a firefight, atleast this time it was in the base, when he did a test run on his armor. Being forced to move about when you could feel your very body trying to rebel against itself was a terrible thing, and it was far worse to search through his vast collection of chemicals to find the right combination to force it away.

Now through, he could relax, atleast long enough to be ready for his next mission. Maybe go bug Bear... Still, his team was back, so he probably needed to talk to them, figure out what all happened, if his services would be needed. He stood up, groaning at his sore muscles. Normally his stimulants left him feeling weak after a day or so, as his body was pumped into overdrive. Now, though, his chemical high was crashing down on him, and his muscles took the beating. He couldn't imagine what he'd be feeling if his implant malfunctioned. Hrmm... That was a thought. make an implant to do what his armor did? It would make him a surprising force, even outside of his armor, though there would be the issue of refilling it... And if it malfunctioned, something clearly possible, than the consequences would almost certainly be terrible.

Walking through the barracks was the massive man that was Golem. He looked at him as he passed by, and wondered just how many drugs that man must've taken as a kid. His stomach suddenly growled, and he decided to follow him to the cafeteria too. His body had burned through so many calories, for no use, when the stimulants made it go into overdrive, and it was obvious now, feeling absolutely famished. He wondered how the rest of his squad would treat him, given how his own designs for the armor had taken him out of commission. His presence in the mission might have been critical, he might have been needed, but instead, his need to be better than a normal man had forced him to be less. Hopefully, Romanov could help him work out the kinks in his designs. It'd also help him possible modify the rest of his squads armor, to do something similar. He'd never met anyone who had made something like this, the closest he'd encountered were the auto-injecting stimpacks that kept a man fighting in the heat of battle, without being forced to inject it himself. Of course, he also had systems of that sort hooked up to his armor as well, which is why he hadn't died, mainly. The chemicals in the stimpacks served as enough of a force to stop the stimulants from killing him, and also allowed him to find a cure for his affliction.

After watching the man speak to the deathclaw, he followed behind the pair to the cabin that served as their cafeteria, entering in and taking a deep sniff of the delicious food. Now, this was more like it. They were, after all, the best of the best. He quickly went to the buffet, making a large serving of steak and potatoes. He poured a large glass of rum on the rocks, though about a forth of the drink was lemon juice, and even some salt was mixed into the drink. He sat down at the table, cutting into the meat and beginning to dig into it ravenously. He didn't talk to the other members of his squad, expecting them to start mocking him for his own mistakes. And, honestly, it was probably atleast a little deserved. Atleast the higher ups hadn't felt a need to execute him for the screw up with his armor. It was something he had fully expected to happen, given the way he had been trained for the past six months. They had put resources into training the squad into a force of absolute might, and he had just been taken out of commission because of his own screw up. He did know one thing, that wouldn't be repeated in the future. He would work without his stimulants if such things would hold back his potential. He was quite interested in both Golem and Dimitri for that. One was clearly augmented, much like he was, though Devons was much less obvious, and Dimitri for his sheer intelligence. He mulled over this thoughts as he took a deep drink of his sour rum, releasing a satisfied "Ah" at the taste. He would settle into the job well, if this is what he would be treated to.

How's your neck wound? Healing I hope?" Melanie and Andrew sat together in the cafeteria, one of the few remaining log cabins left in the world, build from untouched trees from northern canada. From the eastern double door entrance where the squad would enter from, they would find eight large wooden round-tables with pre-war style cushioned cloth club chairs, each big enough to seat Golem without heaving. On the northern side of the hall, a grand fireplace housed a roaring fire, a soft red rug in front of it with four lounge chairs with small wooden tables between each. Andrew and Whisper sat there now, foot-long subs for each of them with assorted meats and veggies, grown under the very building, and drinks. On the southern and southern-eastern edge was the kitchen, built with a buffet, they had everything there. From simple potatos and carrots to filet mignon and flank steak. Not to mention a fine selection of desserts and a bar with so many selections of alcohol that it was almost treasonous. All provided by the ingrediants and seeds provided by the gracious denizens of Vault 42 who's cooks and gardeners were hand picked to join the Eagle Point staff. They were given the best facilities to engorge their passion of foods for America's finest soldiers. A few officers and assistants sat at various tables, enjoying their late dinners. On the western side was a large bay window that gave a dramatic view of the cliffside that was the edge of Eagle Point, having been situated on a mountain, the only way in and out of Eagle Point was Vertibird. Blizzard outside raged and pounded against the windows, but the sound of the wind did not overcome the sound of the conversations of the officers and the crackle of the fire.

"I'm fine. Just tired and sore." The super mutant that Andrew beat the stuffing out of had done a number on her, throwing her across the room and making her impact a set of old stairs, greatly injuring her back. Didn't break or crack it, thankfully. She had her armor to thank for that. "Thank you for...Saving me...and everything, today." "Damn...a thank you from the mute woman!" he thought to himself before smiling. "Not a problem. Simply doing my job." For a second, he could have swore he saw a smile creep up on her as she took a bite of her sandwich. She leaned back in the chair and let out a sigh, relaxing and setting her eyes on the fire. They reminded her of her previous life, and her previous family. The good times. She snapped out of it as Andrew spoke again, asking for a toast. She hadn't taken a drink of her lonestar yet, she didn't see why not. She reached for it and popped off the cap on the side of the table and clinked with Andrew's thermos before taking a drink, letting the golden liquid burn on the way down her throat, pure ecstasy coming over her for a moment. An Ice cold beer at the end of the day was what made it all worth it in the end. Though to Andrew, piping hot tea was the equivalent of her lonestar beer.

As for our deathclaw, he was happy. Leinhart had Bear's helmet in hand, fixing up the dents and the dinks, humming a tune to himself. It worked quickly, cleaning the armor piece by peace, polishing them, purifying them of the damages, even improving them in some places. He didn't exactly know where he learned to be such a good metal craftsman...er, craftsclaw, but it was extremely beneficial to his staying here. Though he had to say, he was starting to grow a tad bit hungry. He stood, heading over to the Cafeteria. Hopefully they would warm up to him a bit more instead of continuing the cold reception that they demonstrated in the briefing room. He chuckled to himself as he realised the pun that he just made concerning the cold reception and the fact Eagle Point was on top of a mountain and constantly covered in snow.
Ozymandius stopped in his tracks when the deathclaw loomed out of a doorway at the end of the corridor. He watched until it made eye contact with him. It was still somewhat startling even though he was quite sure it didn't pose any great danger. At least not from what he gathered so far. The giant continued down the hall coming up on the new squad member with a relaxed smile.

"Evening," he said.
Leinhart straightened up and then gave a subtle bow, "Good evening," he returned.
"Don't suppose you're headed for the cafeteria?" Ozymandius asked, "Wouldn't mind the company."
"Nor would I," Lienhart turned to walk beside him. "Sorry 'bout the staring. It's just that I've never," he continued and the deathclaw sighed silently thinking he knew exactly where this was going, "met anybody taller than me." A noise that almost sounded like laughter issued from the deathclaw's belly, "No. I do not imagine you ever have."
The strange looking pair made their way to the cafeteria in a comfortalbe silence. Already it felt like cold Eagle Point was warming up a bit. He paid no heed to the new face in the camp, Devon. Part of him thought that he was just another face, it didn't strike him that Devon was the new squad member having arrived early.

Stepping inside, Leinhart made his way over to the buffet. The cooks in the kitchen behind the buffet looked upon him with a hint of fear in their eyes. Their pupils grew to the size of dinner plates as Leinhart got a plate and placed a whole chicken onto it, and had a second plate with various vegetables and more meats. By the time he was done stacking food, he had enough to fill the stomachs of four people. Unfortunately for him it wouldn't be a filling meal, something that would stave off a hunger until he could come in here when nobody was around and empty half the buffet to get a full meal. He sat down at a far table with his food and took off a glove and used his claw to pick apart the food. Forks and knives weren't something he needed as his claws were sharp enough to pierce heavy armor. He picked apart the chicken, slicing through the bones like they were tissue paper. He was surprised to see Golem join him however, setting down a beer for the both of them. The deathclaw looked at the beer, seemlingly raising an eyebrow to it before taking a drink of it and feeling the bitter liquid slide down his throat to join the chicken in his stomach. At first, it was horrible, then a few memories of his previous life came back and the bitter drink became liquid gold as a sense of pleasure came over him. There was something that looked like a smile on his face as he patted Golem's back, knocking the wind out of the gargantuan man.

Lucy has lost track of time. How long as she been here? The progress bar on her Pipboy says that she needs to wait two more hours before the Electron Charge Packs would be fully recharged, and an additional five more to finish the ten fission batteries. but to her, she might as well have been there for days. She was on her third pot of coffee and had stripped down the eye bot into thousands upon thousands of individual pieces. It was one part a clean up job and second part hardware upgrade, because she needed to replace various bits and pieces of the eyebot with better stuff anyways. The only time she ever got out of her seat was when she needed to get up and find another part for her eyebot, like armored plates or the parts to the Arc Welder she plans to use for the little bot. But mostly she just mulled over each and every part of the eyebot and cleaned it. It was monotonous, boring, but necessary. Only the taste and power of coffee helped her keep sane, and only by allowing her to ignore the insanity.

More time has passed. Batteries still needed to be recharged, but she finished cleaning and most of the machine was put back together. There was now at least twenty parts that needed to be attached to each other before it looked anything like an eyebot, but it was more manageable than the thousand that was spread across her table. This part of the project was where Lucy would need to weld the armored plates onto the hull, as well as test out the eyebot's individual systems. She mounted the Arc Welder onto a firm pedestal and fired it at a target, quickly turning it into smoldering ash. That was great, but the Arc Welder wasn't just to fry flesh. She moved the Arc Welder and aimed at a robot. It was one of her robots, though it's weapon systems have been disabled and now all it does is serve as her assistant, a job which it does badly. "Testing Arch Welder in three... Two... One." She fired a short sustained blast for only three seconds, causing the robot to smoke and shortout. Putting the weapon to a safe place she checked on her robot, pleased with the results. The robot itself wasn't too badly damaged and it's computer parts were still operational. While some of it's circuitry were fried and conductor were badly damaged, they were nothing she couldn't replace on the field or bypass to allow the robot to operate for a short amount of time. She'd like to test it on power armor, but no one takes kindly to be shot at, even for science. So she skipped that idea and went back to work.

And now all there was to do was wait. Lucy sat in her chair hugging her knees as she looked at the eyebot before her. It was armored using materials from Tesla Armor, even had it's energy coils built inside of it to increase the energy output and allow it to be self sustaining. Which is helpful because instead of using a traditional laser weapon, she used a miniaturized Arc Welder. It may have been smaller, but it still packs the same amount of power a large-scale one would.The Tesla Coils would also prove handy with it's final function; as a mobile recharging station. Specifically for the batteries of energy weapons like Electron Charge Packs or Microfusion cells, but it can even make Fission Batteries, or siphon power from them to charge up the previously mentioned batteries faster. It was all almost done, but now she just needed to wait for the batteries to charge up to max. It wouldn't happen until a couple of more hours, and she was out of coffee. She still wore her armored jumpsuit from the mission, and only now did she notice the smell she was producing. Feeling very dirty about herself, she left her workshop to go change and wash up.

After depositing her things to the quartermaster (Who wasn't present) and a long trip to the showers, Lucy emerged from her bunk house dressed in a new set of vault-issued coveralls. Her home vault, 103, was emblazoned on the back with pride. They may have their problems, but the Vault was still her home, and in her opinion, the best one there ever will be. Now clean and smelling pleasantly like apple and cinnamon, she headed towards the cafeteria to get something to eat and more coffee.

Much of the evening and extending into the night was spent in the Cafeteria, the squad coming together even outside of the mission to eat and talk with one another. Though they were not at the same table, quite a few questions, or insults, were flung from across the room. Even Leinhart joined in a few times even though none of the squad tried to get buddy buddy with him other than Golem. As they started to finally wind down, the food comas starting to take their effect, they made the trek through the snow and to the barracks, where they found their way into their bunks and called it a night. The barracks were large, with beds lining the walls with privacy curtains around them. Various nick-nacks from their previous lives or ones that they picked up in their new lives were on small shelves above their beds or on a chest of drawers. Some simply fell in their bunks and were fast asleep, others stayed awake for a while longer, reading, making a report, or even flirting and making small talk. All gave way to the allure of sleep within time.

_____

5:00AM sharp in the morning, they were woken up by the sound of a trumpet. More than a few sprang up out of bed, their training kicking in, ready to kill. Andrew and Ginger even slugged each other, nearly knocking each other out then coming to their senses before they did knock one another out. Commander of the fort, Richard Hammond, dressed in a dark gray trenchcoat and a matching sergeants cap. He stepped into the barracks and into the light. His dark gray slacks and black combat boots were highlighted underneath his black shirt underneath, covered with pins that showed his service and combat ribbons. His voice was gutteral, like nails on a chalkboard, but loud. He was confident and proud of his position, just from his voice alone. "Eagle Claw, before you begin your day, you are all to come with me immediately." The squad wasted no time looking among each other. Whether they were displeased with not getting their sleep or annoyed with their commander's orders, they followed him out of the barracks. He lead them two by two across the base to an area near the gate to a field outside that they used for training.

Opening the gate and heading out into the snow, they came upon a line of troopers with bullet-based rifles. Five of them in total. There was a gravestone and a picture of Phoenix leaning against it.

The funeral was short, kept to around fifteen minutes. No tears were shed publicly for the boy, the squad maintaining their visage of stone cold warriors. On the inside, they may or may not have been different. Sebastian shed a tear internally for the boy, he did not deserve death. When the funeral was finished and the troopers had fired their rifles, they walked away to continue their day. Some of the squad returned to bed while others went to the Cafeteria for an early day. The sight that Andrew and Whisper walked into was not a pretty one. A table full of food and a deathclaw on one side, tearing it apart like it was a fat brahmin with two calfs in it's stomach. It was horrifying seeing what Leinhart could do to a turkey. The two backed up and held the door shut. Golem walked up and tried to answer, but they shook their heads, Andrew saying to come back in an hour as there is a feast being eaten by one person in there and it was nasty.

The morning was not the most pleasant of ones. The fact that Alexander had been woken at such an early hour on one of his few easy days was just the start. The funeral for the boy, Icarus, was simply a slap in the face. If he had been given a choice, he would not have come. It only seemed to emphasize what he felt was a failure on his part to keep the boy from harm's way. Just another way for the Enclave to piss on his morale, whether it was on purpose or not.

Afterwards, he headed directly to the cafeteria. Unfortunately, the room had multiple entrances, and Alexander had not taken the main door, and so intruded upon Leinhart's feast. The two stared at each other for a moment, Alexander's steel gaze and stony face broken into one of bewilderment, before his composure returned and he turned away to get some food to go. The pair said no words to each other as Alexander filled up a tray from what little Leinhart hadn't taken, and left to go visit Dimitri.

The professor was cooped up in his lab, as usual, sparks flying and machinery whirring about. With a loud knock on the open door, Alexander entered, not waiting for an invitation. When you went as far as back as he and Dimitri went, things like privacy meant nothing between them. He could hear the scientist utter something foul before he turned around, though there was no greeting as the cyborg ran over to shut the door. Then he hurried to a different table, and began to mess around over there.

Dimitri had been liquefying a pack of mentats for about an hour now, and it was finally complete. About half of the solution was drained into a plastic tube, which Dimitri then attached a needle to. In one swift motion, the needle was shoved into a vein in the man's neck, and the mentats injected right Ito his bloodstream, heading up towards his brain. The needle was removed and disposed of, and the scientist let out a little grunt as he turned back to face Alexander, who had been quietly munching on a burrito while Dimitri did his thing.

"What brings you here so early?" Dimitri asked, the deep metallic voice sounding skeptical.

"Never took you for the addict type," Alexander responded, ignoring the question.

"I'm not, mentats help me think," he explained, allowing a tinge of annoyance to enter his voice. "if you're here about the arm, it won't be ready until after your next mission, at best. Been up all night on the damn thing, and since I can't detain you to work from the inside out on your arm like I did mine, it will have to be done from scratch, which is a pain."

"Can't a guy just stop by to say hello to an old friend?" Alexander asked innocently, grinning as he brushed some meat from his beard.

"Not when that man is you."

The pair sat and talked for some time, vaguely referencing the past. Neither trusted the Enclave enough to speak freely, especially in the middle of the base. Listening devices could be everywhere, and Dimitri knew there were at least three in his lab alone. However, after a while, it was decided that Alexander should leave so that Dimitri could get back to work.

Setting the tray down by Dimitri's door, figuring someone would pick it up, Alexander headed for the one place he felt he could relax: The training field. He slipped on a large coat and grabbed a knife from the armory, along with a spare plasma defender, and headed out.

The targets proved to easy for him, even at a good range. Even if he was off center, he always managed to hit near enough that he knew it would likely be what he was aiming for in a real situation. His attention turned to the other soldiers on the field. Tossing up his knife and catching it by the blade, he continuously issued challenges to them to spar. Though, they either chickened out or spouted something about not feeling comfortable using real weapons in a pretend fight.

"I'll fight you." Alexander turned to face Aria, the pilot holding her sword in one hand. The man grinned, and jerked his head to the side, leading her a bit away from the other soldiers. They positioned themselves a few yards away from each other. Aria gave him a formal bow, which he then returned, and they readied themselves, Alexander gripping the knife, keeping the blade down by his pinky, while Wraith held her sword before her, both hands on the grip.

Without a word, the two charged each other, the crunching snow the only sound they made. As they neared, Aria swung her sword in a downward arc, while Alexander fell to his knees and ducked forward, the knife slashing at her side as momentum and ice carried him forward past her. They ended up about a yard at from each other, their places switch. The shoulder of Alexander's jacket had been sliced open. The side of Aria's coat had a jagged cut in the side.

He stood and faced her, but she was already upon him. He brought he knife up just in time to block a slash coming from above. If she had been on par with his own strength, she'd had killed him right there. But, as weak as she was, it merely jarred his arm a little. With a mighty heave, he pushed her blade off and sliced at her, the nimble woman leaping back to keep away. But Alexander ran after her, slicing at her stomach as he ran. This time, it was her turn to block, the sword coming up to keep the blade from even coming near her.

The two raised their fists, and slammed them into each other. Alexander's thick fist connected with her shoulder, sending her sprawling to the ground, while her bony knuckles crashed into his forehead, sending the large man reeling back a couple of steps. By the time she was getting up, Alexander was upon her, standing high above with his knife, ready to dive down. But, as he did, her sword was already held up. The point gently poked against Alexander's chest as he halted himself.

The two remained still for a moment, before Alexander straightened up and let out a loud laugh that resounded through the still Canadian air. Aria let out her own little chuckle, standing and sheathing her blade. "Got just a bit too cocky there!" Alexander exclaimed, turning to head back to the main building, Aria next to him. "Should've just stepped on ya!"

The little woman let out an awkward chuckle. "Well, I'm glad you didn't. Probably would've broken my everything," she responded, then the two parted at the entrance of the building, Aria heading off to the barracks while Alexander simply wandered thre halls, becoming lost in his thoughts as his face went back to one of stone cold indifference. And it wasn't even time for lunch yet.

-

---

Tristan

---

As soon as the funeral was over and Eagle Claw dismissed he took a rather prolonged drink from the flask kept in his pocket. The time of day sure as hell wasn't going to stop him either. It was too early, his muscles were strained from the mission, his face and jaw were bruised from batterings he had taken from his own squad-mates, he was hungover, it was cold enough for Hell to freeze a dozen times over and he was forced to remember what he had spent a good part of the night trying to forget. Tristan wore a stiff frown, glared at the frozen ground and shivered for the entirety of the service. The tiniest fragments from his memory of Phoenix yelling at them before the behemoth smashed through the wall darted in and out of his thoughts. Never had funerals been held during their training period. Dammit he even remembered funeral services often being overlooked at the outposts he had served at in the past especially when they had nothing to bury. Most of the time there was nothing to bury. He really hoped that when it was his turn to bite the dust he would just be allowed to go peacefully without any of the ceremony. For a few minutes after he considered going back to bed, but there was no point. He was up and might as well get a head start in forgetting about Phoenix all over again. Sure he didn't know the guy very well, but somehow the reality of the situation still stung in a bad way. The Enclave was only rubbing salt in the wound with their little show.

A couple of the others were discussing breakfast. Normally he would have been pleased to tag along but after that he didn't feel much like eating and opted to work off some of these aches instead. The training grounds weren't nearly as populated these days as they hand once been leaving him to finish a short run and get some time in at the shooting range in relative solitude. The casings from his .44 piled up in a box on the ground to be reloaded later. He snapped the cylinder in place and took aim at the target. The bulls eye was all but obliterated at this point and the wall behind it had been taking all the damage for some time now. Target practice had become completely unsatisfying. Something inside of him wanted whatever was on the wrong side of that gun to die when he pulled the trigger. Just the feeling of firing and putting the bullet right where it was supposed to go wasn't good enough. The more he practiced the more antsy he grew. After firing six more shots down range he packed up and left.

Just as he got near his bunk and was considering sleeping and sulking through the rest of the day his stomach growled. It did have a point there. He was starving and wasting the day away wouldn't help his attitude. Thank goodness attitudes were easy to drown with good food and good beer. A red backed deck of cards sitting on the little table next to his bunk caught his eye. If food and beer could drown a bad attitude then good company could smother it. Tristan snatched up the deck and made for the cafeteria. He could definitely go for some better social activity than what the Enclave had offered this morning. After digging up the bloodiest, swimming-in-gravy-est, steak he could find at the buffet he grabbed a beer and sat down. He shuffled the cards and invited anybody there who felt like losing their caps to start a game. If death was coming for them all sooner or later he felt he should enjoy the time he had left.

---

Ozymandius (Colaboration between DT and Granox)

---

While looking around at the faces gathered before the headstone, Ozymandius wondered how many more of these he would be attending in the future. The thought was not at all comforting. At least now he knew that anyone else who fell would be honored in a manner they deserved unlike so many others who had fallen before them here at Eagle Point. He left the man's grave with a casual salute and started back.

Devon had watched the funeral, more or less unphased by what he was attending. Waking up at the hour of the morning that he was certain had been created just to piss on a soldiers dreams, seeing that a new man had fallen, none of this was new. If anything, the honor they DID give him was more surprising. More than three times their entire squads number had died in training alone, one more? This was nothing, if not disappointing. This was one of the men who had made it through the training, one of the elite few that belonged with them, and yet he didn't even know what happened. He'd been killed, his life ended before he could begin to truly serve the enclave. Regardless, it was over quickly, Devon giving him a crist salute, more than he'd given any of the fallen bodies of the men that had tried to call themselves the true elite, that tried to be whatt they were.

Now though, he was curious. What had happened on that mission, to kill one of the few? The only one he saw among them who seemed the least likely to say something negative to him for missing the mission, or worse, blame him for somehow being the reason Phoenix was now dead, was Golem. What would have happened if they had one more man there? He wanted to know the circumstances, what had gone wrong, because something had to. To lose a man was one thing, to lose an eagle? That was something entirely different. He'd approach the massive man, feeling quite small beneath him, despite his own larger stature. This man seemed to be part super mutant, he certainly had the size, and looked to have the strength, to certainly match such a description.

"Hello, Ozzy? Hard to mistake someone for a different man, when they're as large as you. Mind telling me what happened on that mission, that my armor decided I didn't need to attend?" He had the slightest hint of exhaustion to his tone, almost certainly an after effect of both waking up so early, and because of the still raging side effects of his poisoning. He had a quizzical look on his face, obviously very curious in what Golem had to say about the mission.

Ozzy hm? The name seemed to work and it was okay with him. It was certainly easier to say. Ozymandius stopped and turned watching the newcomer carefully as he spoke. He had seen him around before, but thanks to the pressure of the first mission he hadn't really had time to wonder why they were short one training survivor. His questions were suddenly answered. Sounded rather serious.

He frowned, "Didn't tell you? You missed a bloodbath. A lot of mutants, a lot of destruction and we leveled Seattle," he looked back toward the headstone, "There was a behemoth and well..." he didn't feel like it was necessary to finish that thought. "You seem in fighting condition now anyway," he turned his attention back to the man, "... Devon right?"

He nodded, stretching out his arms. "I am Devon, and I'm fine now, though if you would have asked me that yesterday before you left, I would have given you a much different answer. Armor malfunctioned when I was testing it yesterday, ended up pumping its entire reservoir of stimulants into my body. Considering I'm not an alien, like you would seem to be, I was incapacitated and barely able to form together the chemicals needed to cleanse it from my body. Gonna talk to that fellow with the robotic arm about helping me fix my armor up, make sure it's ready for our next mission. I don't intend to miss two in a row."

"Hmph," Ozzy snorted with the smallest hint of a smirk, "Alien, huh? Sure Romanov could fix you up with something nice," he agreed though he wasn't too sure he trusted the cyborg, "Don't imagine missing two missions would be tolerated much whether you intend it or not. It'll be good to have you with us next time."

"No offense intended, but you're a tad... Larger than any normal man I've ever met. Fits the description of alien to me, I think." He gave his own smirk, before frowning, thinking about what the Enclave would do to him for inactivity. They'd spent all these resources on him, after all, and he was clearly expendable in their eyes. The idea wasn't exactly pretty. "I'm apparently our official medic now? Would've worked with Phoenix, if he hadn't met his end." That was an interesting thought, to be completely in charge of his teams medical care in the field. It seemed slightly ironic in his eyes, that he had nearly poisoned himself to death, and now would be expected to fix his squad in the event that such a thing happened to them. How fun.

The giant crossed his arms slowly. Official medic was he? Hopefully Devon would be proving himself on another member of the team before Ozymandius ever needed medical attention, what with that personal track record. "Well, good luck then, medic," he started back toward the buildings, "And in short it's less alien, more experiment," he said in a somewhat bitter tone.

"Experiment? You'll have to tell me that story at some point, over a drink later. Now, I've got a cyborg to see." He began walking towards the buildings as well, though his path took him towards Dimitri's lab. He was still well within earshot of the man who almost certainly had a voice to match his massive stature. Otherwise, he'd heard what he needed to.

"That right?" Ozymandius muttered and gave Devon a look as he walked away, "Suppose we'll see. Better be a good drink though."

After the service and his little chat he took a moment to stretch and actually wake himself up before heading straight for the cafeteria to get an early breakfast. No point in wasting what little day light there was to be had in this part of the world. However, when he reached the cabin Andrew and Melanie were there waiting for him with the door shut. He wanted to ask what in the nine hells they thought they were doing keeping a man from his food, but the noises he heard coming from inside were all the explanation he needed. From what he could tell that place was being destroyed. That or somebody was being murdered loudly. All the same he had a pretty good guess what it really was. Leinhart. He wholly agreed with Andrew's advice to come back in an hour.

It was quiet in the compound. Officers and workers went back and forth going about their business and chatting among themselves. There was paperwork to be done, food to be prepared, supplies to check, machinery that needed maintenance, rooms to be cleaned, information to be processed, preparations to be made... It all seemed so mundane for a mountainous secret base hell-bent on taking over a continent. No doubt the ambitions of the Enclave could not be achieved by violence and destruction alone. There was far more work to be done than that. As he thought about it he realized the logistics of such a thing must be overwhelming. Though he didn't share the same idealism as his employer/conqueror it was leading him to wonder if there was something more he could do on days like this. He'd have to ask around about that. Perhaps his deathclaw friend could use help maintaining their gear. Speaking of which. Ozymandius made his way for the armory. Not that he didn't trust Leinhart, he was just a man who was very particular about a proton axe.

The armory was, of course, empty save for an assistant who was working on a piece of power armor and paid him no mind. Ozymandius wandered until he found the axe he was looking for. He picked it up and looked it over, examining it carefully. Such a marvelous weapon couldn't possibly be improved upon. For a few minutes he browsed through the racks of equipment simply curious of the kind of firepower Eagle Point had at its disposal. One of these toward the back near the workbenches was an absolute mess where the rest had been neat and organized. It was packed with broken weapons, random bits of armor, scrap metal, drained or empty artillery and all manner of non-functional machinery and parts. A scrap heap. He couldn't help but spend more time looking through it all. There were so many possibilities in there. A rusty switchblade caught his eye and he picked it up with a small smile. Such a sneaky little thing. The blade stuck but eventually he was able to get it to snap out and then he had an idea. He looked at his axe then back at the little blade. With a few more parts his idea might just work.

Lucy's morning began with the blaring of trumpets. She clenched her first and was ready to start punching, but it turned out that it wasn't an attack. It was something a bit worse. Richard Hammond, the fort's commander-in-charge, ordered them all to follow him. Lucy had changed into a par of vault-issued pajamas, which comfortable in controlled temperatures, didn't provide much protection in the cold. She at least managed to put on some boots before she left.

What followed was a short funeral for their lost soldier, Phoenix. Like everyone else, Lucy kept her emotions in check, maintaining a stoney face during the fifteen minutes they held for the lost soldier. Once the funeral was over, Lucy closed her eyes and allowed herself a few tears. Just one or two, as a reminder that for all their training, none of them were invincible. the others talked a bit about getting something to eat, but after Lucy allowed herself some time to grieve for Phoenix, she headed strait to her workshop and made another pot of black coffee. The batteries to the eyebot should be done charging now, and she needed some time to herself anyways.

Once she was back to working on the eyebot, a few more tears began to shed. She didn't really know why she was crying over Phoenix aside from her very small familiarity with him. She didn't know him personally, they chatted a few times, but otherwise they were strangers who knew each others names. Or maybe it was just the stress of it all getting to her. Everyone looks towards Eagle Claw as a group of harden, no-nonsense killers, capable of taking on the world. Whether they are or not isn't something they're suppose to disprove. They had to maintain that image, and while some are more capable of doing that than others, Lucy herself never really imagined herself as a soldier. She killed out of necessity, usually when she didn't have to make up justifications to go out and kill something. Even against the Super Mutants she went surges of emotions after the adrenaline died down. There was some hate, but mostly sadness, and a bit of fear. It was times like this she wished she was a robot; all she needed was someone to tell her what needed to be done, and she'd go about doing it by whatever means were available to her. No emotional factor, no hesitation of questioning. But than that just brought up a new question; what would be better, to live with all the choices you make, or to die with a clean conscience?

When the tears began to drip over her workbench Lucy quickly put a stop to her philosophizing and got back to work. After attaching the batteries and installing the OS, the eyebot came to life. Downing a cup of coffee as a small prize for her accomplishment, Lucy took the eyebot to the training grounds. "Alright. From this day forth you will be called Ada. Do you copy?" A few beeps and a message from her pipboy said that the eyebot would now respond to the name of Ada. "Good. Now let's test you out." For a while Lucy had Ada go through a series of drills and tests, such as testing it's path finding abilities, searching, and combat. While Ada might not be able to take on a gang of Super Mutants by itself, it's Arc Welder was able to do massive damage against most flesh targets (using dead brahmin carcasses as the targets) as well as short out any robots it was faced off against. It's armor was also handy when put under a stress test, as it could survive hits all the way up to a grenade taped to it with no more damage than heavy scorching. Still, in battle Ada wouldn't get to go under fire under controlled conditions, so it's dodging and positioning ability would have more importance over it's durability. "Alright Ada. Let's get you cleaned up and we can get some breakfast."

Devon snapped awake as the trumpet blast woke them all up. It was quite irritating, but he was more than used to it by this point. Training tended to do that to a man, afterall, and he was dressed in something other than simple pajamas within moments, ready to attend whatever it was that the base commander had planned. It was a funeral, quick and simple. (See collab post with DT for rest.)
--
After speaking to Golem, Devon found himself with something new to do. While he'd veered off to the cyborgs lab, he realized that he needed his equipment first. Returning to the barracks, he retrieved his suit of armor, complete with faulty wiring, and the blueprints he had used to build the additional systems he'd incorporated. Carrying the armor in a duffel bag and the blue prints in a folder, he made his way to Dimitri's lab, ariving in time to see Bear leaving. He wondered what the man had spoken to him about, and then realized that he really didn't care. It surely didn't concern him, afterall, so why should he? He knocked heavily on the door, right as it closed, not giving any mind to the man passing him, instead listening for a voice on the other end of the door.

"What is it? I'm very busy." The voice sounded annoyed at receiving a second visitor so quickly, but Devon didn't really care. He was here to serve the Enclave, and Devon was Enclave.

"One of Eagle Squad. I need your help in fixing up my armor." A very audible sigh, though muffled, came out, Devon wondering how much the man hated dealing with other people. It would interrupt him from his work, afterall.

"Fine fine, come in, be quick about it." He pushed the door open and walked inside, glancing around the lab rather curiously. Still, it was hard to miss the man with a third arm, and he approached casually, putting down the suit of combat armor onto an empty table. He put the blueprints down next to it, before clearing his throat.

"I've added some modifications to my armor, the most significant being build in injectors for stimpacks and stimulants. The issue is, I am not a master of technical work, and somewhere along the line I screwed up the mechanics. It works, somewhat, though you can't turn off the flow of chemicals once they're started. I need you to fix that, that's it." Devons voice was very matter of fact, giving a very clear objective in mind. Truly, it wasn't a massive problem, and Devon could probably fix it on his own, given enough time, but he needed it ready incase a second mission came within days. He didn't have the time to waste fixing it on his own, not when he had other things to do with his precious time, such as train.

Dimitri looked him over, and retrieved the suit of armor, examining it as well. Finally, another very noticable sigh was released. "Very well, I'll fix your armor... Someone of my caliber should have no issue with such a trivial issue. Now go, you're disrupting my concentration." Devon let out a small chuckle and left, leaving behind the blueprints and armor, heading off to the barracks to relax for the next little while. Today was going to be a lazy day, of sorts for him. He still intended to run through a routine of exercises, but not at this ungodly hour of the morning. He'd do his exercise when he had just a tad more sleep.

For much of the rest of the day, the team did just as Devon did, have a lazy day to do as they please. There was no parties or drunken sprees as on the edges of each of their minds they knew that in a paltry twenty hours, they would be on a Vertibird to their next mission, more deadly than the last. As such was the fate of Eagle Claw. The few that stood were strong, but each knew that at any time, they could fall just as Phoenix had. A bullet between the eyes, a knife to the gut, a set of jaws wrapped around their heads. Anything out there could end them. The thought of that would weigh heavily on their minds the more they realized it. But the more they realized it, the more they saw that there were two sides to the coin. Though there was plenty in the world that could kill them, there was even more out there that they could kill. It would take the force of hundreds if not thousands to bring down the might of Eagle Claw. They were bread not only to fight and survive, but bring down four different nations of super powers that ruled the United States and damn it, they would die a slow painful death before giving up.

With that on their minds, the squad had their day, falling asleep early that night seemed best as they would have a very short morning ahead of them....
___________________
The Sound of a hundred Vertibirds would be their symphony today. In the midst of the might of the enclave, flying to a Location only briefly described as they were shoved into Wraith's Vertibird. The ruins of Lewiston, Idaho. The sounds of the engines cut right through the metal that encased the team, assaulting their ears and filling them with a sense of awe at the military power that the enclave had. Andrew, willing to take the beating from the wind that gushed in, opened the Vertibird door. The sight was enough to make one's jaw drop as they witnessed the shadow of the fleet cover the landscape. Nearly a hundred Vertibirds of varying sizes, some even reaching flying fortress standards, each filled to the brim with power armored troops...each one of them heading to just north of NCR territory....
It took a good chunk of the morning to get there. After hooking up with a fleet of Vertibirds at the Canadian border and heading south across the crater of Moscow and to Lewiston, taken over and walled off by the Enclave as a base, the fleet touched down at around noon inside the heart of Lewiston. The Enclave had set up a powerful defense, walls everywhere, snipers on every building, and sensor array towers scanning the landscape for any possible movement. Nothing got within three miles of the place without being turned into something less than dust.

Escorted off of the Vertibird, the squad was hurried to the XO's quarters inside the old city hall. There weren't nearly as many hellfire troopers as one would think. There were however enough troops to take over a few dozen cities. From the chatter from troops around the compound, that was what was happening too. Apparently the fleet that they were brought in with was using this city to refuel then spread out over Washington and Idaho and set up shop. There was one hitch in the plan however, and it lied just south, in Boise.

Brought into the XO's office, they were greeted by a certain Tara Strickland as she stood on the other side of a map of the area of and around Boise, Idaho. Black lines had been drawn to show troop locations and walls. A red X was drawn just a little north of the town. "Afternoon boys and girls" she began. She got closer to the table and beckoned the others to surround the tables. They did as ordered. "Based on your armors, I'm just going to assume that you're this super secret squad that my commander told me would be coming. You people are mired in secrecy, all I know is that you" She pointed straight at Whisper. "And you" She pointed at Winter this time. "Are the stealth experts of the squad and that you" She pointed at Andrew "and you" She pointed at Tristan "Are the snipers. That's all I needed to know and I'm glad that's all I need to know as frankly, you lot terrify me. Word is that you guys set off a small nuclear bomb in Seattle a few days ago and all that's left is radiation an rubble."
_______
"It seems that a powerful enemy has reared it's head, ignoring the warnings we have given them. Hidden behind the flag of blue with a red and white star in the middle and the name "The Libertas", we have been warning the Great Bear of the south, the NCR, that they were not to expand north. They have ignored our warnings and have moved soldiers into Boise International Airport just to the south of here...."

Moving swiftly and keenly, Winter and Whisper move through the sludge of a sewer pipe, their destination: Boise International Airport.

"While they only send occasional scouts into Boise, they have turned the substantially sized airport into a main base. Hundreds of troops are stationed there with NCR Ranger Snipers alongside them. We cannot attack them directly at first unless we want the whole bear coming down onto us with their full force as many of us would know that the NCR has a vendetta against the Enclave. We can however get a pair of you in stealthily..."

Coming up to a ladder that lead up to the middle of the base, Winter waited for Whisper to catch up. A stream of water poured into the tunnel due to the rain that was pouring down above the base. Not radioactive anymore, thankfully, but enough to slow them down.

"Under the cover of night, two of your squad will move into the base to disable the communications tower that they have active inside the airport. Take that out and we can move our squads in. The two snipers will then lead a ten man squad to the buildings in Boise that just so happen to overlook the airport."

With Ginger and Deathstroke leading the small squad of ten snipers, they split up and went into separate buildings to set up and cover as much ground as they could.

"Your team will make sure that not a single straggler escapes to try and warn the rest of the NCR to the attack."

Placing down wire traps and frag grenade bombs on their way up the buildings, the sniper squads set up at the tops and had their sights on the base exits. They'd support the final team that would push into the base and would lock down the entire area.

"The rest of you will position yourselves in the woods close to the base along with a hundred and fifty other Enclave soldiers and a few...liberated Sherman Tanks. Once the stealth squad gives the signal, the signal being the disabling of the communications tower, move in and don't let a single one of them survive. No prisoners, no survivors. What communications that they'll have between squads will be jammed by us. They'll be like fish in a barrel."

With rain coming down, the army was hidden from the snipers, it came down hard enough to mask their presence from the NCR Ranger snipers posted on the walls. The tanks however would be more difficult and thus were located much farther back. Scissors, Venom, Bear, Golem, and Archangel were all grouped up, soaking wet but in their respective armors, ready to push forward once they were given the signal. In the distance, they could see the constantly rotating Communications Satellite's silhouette. Their hands clenched and the tension was high, biting at them constantly, anxious to begin the attack against the great bear of the south.

The meeting had been quick and efficient, just the way Venom preferred to do things in the field. Things went by fast, and the next thing Venom knew, it was nearing the time for his mission. Dimitri had come through, his armors systems working perfectly now, delivering the exact amount needed for his already impressive abilities to become magnified. His other project, though, didn't need any help from Dimitri. This one was accomplished easily enough. He'd experimented with ammunition, and finally developed a round to deliver the very chemicals that gave him his namesake.

The bullets were designed to impact, and deliver a lethal cocktail of poisons into his foes veins. In a minute, they'd enter organ shutdown. Within five, they'd be dead, unless one was able to counteract the poisons on the very battlefield. Not that he thought that would be possible, of course, though there was a reason the double tap rule existed... One round was enough to down any normal human foe. Two? That would ensure a quick, death, though he couldn't guarantee it would be painless. These were called venom clips, and all of his ammunition was converted to it. Venom had nothing better to do with his time, when he wasn't training that was.

Now, rain slid off his full combat armor, his helmet lit up just slightly from underneath the rain. The night vision built into his advanced helmet was active, allowing him to survey the area around him without making a sound. He was waiting for the order to engage, the order to destroy the NCR forces stationed here. When he thought about it, he contemplated why he was so... Neutral, about killing these men who had only joined up in the military for one reason or another. He hadn't exactly joined the Enclave just to assault them, he had joined out of interest for what it possessed. Who was to say these men were any different? Of course, in the end, Venom would follow orders. Anything more than that would result in reactions that he would prefer not to deal with. Things he'd rather not have backlash against him.

He made no side chatter, made no noises aside from his anxious shuffling. Was he anxious about the upcoming combat? No, any such fear was obliterated in his grueling training. This was simply the anxiousness of possible death. He may get shot in the head by a sniper, a grenade may land too close to his position, killing him in the resulting explosion. Such thoughts weren't the best to keep his mind company... But they kept his mind occupied from what would almost certainly be boredom instead.

The great Bear of the North stood deathly silent in the downpour, the heavy raindrops dinking loudly off of his armor. In the dark night, obscured by the rain, he would be near impossible to see if it weren't for the orange lenses that covered his eyes. That Deathclaw had done a damn good job of fixing it all up. He'd have to make sure to thank him on the trip back, so long as it held up. Though, nothing should be able to beat him up as bad this time, unless the NCR had begun to domesticate super mutants.

He rose a hand to gently tap the side of his helmet, and muttered something indistinct into it. There was some crackling in his ear as static buzzed through, and suddenly Claw's voice came through, grainy and patchy, but there. "Al-- Bear, can you hear me fine?" the scientist said, speaking in some foreign language. A grunted response from Bear was all Claw needed to continue. "The camera is working fine, I can see everything from here. It's too bad that I didn't have time to put audio in as well, though it is probably for the best. I'd have guards in here every five minuts wondering what the new explosion was."

"How is the arm coming along?" Bear asked, his voice becoming even gruffer than before. Some people gave him odd looks as he spoke gibberish to no one, but he ignored them. The conversation went on for a few minutes before, mostly a bunch of "yes" from Claw, before Bear signed off the comm, ordering the scientist to stay off the comm, so that he'd be able to focus on the others.

Bear leaned down and lifted up his new gatling laser. It was lighter than his old one, must be a new model or something. He had tested it back at the base before they'd left, but it still didn't feel the same as his old one. A small growl escaped him, his annoyance apparent. He'd have to switch it out for one of the older, heavier models once they got back.

His ind turned onto the NCR. The great Bear of the South, as the Enclave had called them. Nearly been brought to their knees by an army of tribals, aided in destroying the Brotherhood of Steel, and had pushed the Enclave from the West. They sounded impressive, but from what veterans of the Enclave had said, they had superior numbers, and that was it. Numbers were nothing to Bear. Numbers were simply a way to keep count of how many bodies were left after the slaughter.

And there would be a slaughter here tonight. His eyes shut, and he inhaled deeply. He could almost smell the burning flesh, the smoking ruins, hear the screams of wives as their husbands were torn to shreds. His eyes opened, and he glared out into the darkness. It was time to show them why he was known as the Beast of the North.

-

---

Golem

---

Fierce winds had battered them from the open doors of the virtibird, but out there in the sky was a sight to behold. More and more it seemed the Enclave aimed for full scale invasion. There would be no doubt of that in the minds of anyone who viewed that display of power from the ground. Perhaps that was partially the point of all of it. Either way getting to see those viritibirds taking to the air by the hundreds had been amusing to say the very least.

The deafening roar of all the machines had seemed even louder upon landing and it had been a bit of a relief to be quickly moved inside the refurbished city hall. He didn't need to be told to stand by the table and map in the center of the room. It had immediately drawn his attention as he was eager to learn the layout of the area, what the plan was and just what the hell they were going up against with this kind of military force. The woman who provided such information was short and to the point just how he liked it. Their orders were simple; push in once communications were down, take the airport, no prisoners, no survivors. It would be as if the NCR were never there in the first place. Well, perhaps things weren't quite as simple as that, but Golem understood his part to play and that was enough for him.

Now he stood among the trees and the rain with the others who remained behind with the main assault force. He stood still and quiet, much like the rest of them, trying not to draw any attention to himself. Though this was the calm before the storm the tension was palpable. High-strung nerves and blood-lust mingled tightly through the lines all of it ready to snap into action and violence as soon as the NCR's communications were sabotaged and the order to move in was given. The sweet, refreshing scent of the heavy forest rain only seemed to mock them by making the mood all the more apparent. Golem took a moment to examine the little modification he had made to his weapon. A section of the handle was shiny and new, rimmed with a set of discreet, inset switches and lined with a set of mysterious slots. No accidents so far which meant the sensor modules in his gauntlets were hooked up correctly and still functioning.

No signal yet, though Winter and Whisper should be well on their way inside by now. In a way, Golem envied them for not being subjected to the waiting game, but at the time being the Enclave's success was in their hands. A heavy burden indeed.

---

Ginger

---

The sound of rain pelting the old building from outside was by far louder than the small group of snipers that slipped into its upper levels like ghosts. Five men fanned out across the floor staying low, ducking windows and being silent as the grave. Even with the rain cover they could not afford to relax, to cut any corners what-so-ever, to give the NCR even a hunch that something might be creeping about their perimeter. If one of those ranger snipers up on the airport walls spotted them it would all be over in an instant. A sixth man followed up the rear, double checking the traps they had placed were in order and that the men were in position. He checked the stairs one last time. Nothing. Anything coming up this way during the operation would no doubt be blown to bits and alert the snipers. If anything were to compromise them they would be out long before the enemy reached this spot.

Ginger set up shop by a wide hole that had been punched through the wall during wars centuries past. It wasn't as conspicuous as a window and he could still see several entrances to the airport and large open spaces that spread out before them, what used to be parking lots and loading zones, as well as the top of the walls where the Rangers lurked. Every light and every device that might put off light or sound on his armor was shut off. He had come prepared with what could only be described as a severely bastardized suppressor for his rifle. The Gauss was a weapon that would never be silenced, but this made it a little less akin to painting a target on your skull. Besides the enemy usually ended up more distracted by the blinding bursts of fusion that erupted where their companion's body parts used to be than the sound made by the gun.

"We're in position," he whispered to Deathstroke over the comm.

Like fish in a barrel, Strickland had told them. He had killed his fair share of people, but it seemed no matter what the situation there was always the most subtle taste of regret left over. It was something he had learned to get over quickly, but he doubted it would ever really stop happening. He frowned remembering Bear's sympathies for the infected raider girl. There would be no acts of mercy here today if he could help it. This wasn't just a battle. It was an extermination.

To his group he whispered, "I don't care what comes out of that airport, you take out everything that has a pulse and let the gods sort 'em out later. Understood?"

He only received responses in the affirmative. Good.

Archangel made her peace. This wasn't like going into Super Mutant territory or taking out an unruly gathering of wasteland raiders. The NCR were, perhaps, one of the next best options for civilization next to the Enclave. Sure, they were far from the best, but compare to everywhere else in America? At least the NCR managed to get this far. There was a certain underdog charm to them. If things were different, she would have probably been working for them. But now wasn't time for what-ifs. They had their mission: Take over the airbase and leave no survivors. The NCR weren't bad people... They were merely the enemy. This was war; no one leaves with a clean conscience. Accepting this, Archangel made sure to make all the preparations she needed. She made sure to pack lethal explosives for her gauntlet, as well as trading out her Compliance Regulator for a 5.56mm Pistol; a vault made weapon. Her vault of 103 managed to get a bullet press for 5.56 rounds made years ago, and made many guns to use it. Archangel never had much of a taste for kenetic weapons, but her training made her familiar with all types nonetheless. Besides, she wasn't expecting to use it in a firefight. No, this one was special to her, namely for the engraving to put onto the barrel. On one side it said "Castd in the name of God". On the other it said "Ye not guilty". This pistol won't be used to fight. It will be used to execute.

Along with the rest of the taskforce, Archangel waited under the cover of darkness and rain at the forest edge. Ada floated low to the ground with her. As far as she knew, the NCR don't employ a lot of robots or power armor (She was well aware of their crude, stripped down "Power" armor they had) so the Arc Welder wouldn't do much damage. However she did know that since they took over, they had installed quite a few automated turrets. Ada would be more than capable of taking those out quickly, which would help the other soldiers get through without having to worry about getting blasted. More importantly however, Ada had been set to chase down and kill any of the possible NCR Rangers stationed about. Those were the only thing she was worried about; the rank-and-file soldiers might give them a problem if they are kept organized, but if the others succeed in their mission they will be in disarray. The Rangers, however, were much more disciplined and thus more of a danger. They would still be overwhelmed and killed like everyone else, but Archangel sought to lower the number of allied casualties none the less. Besides, she'd get additional data on the surrounding area if Ada left on her own, that way Archangel can keep control of the battlefield by observing the enemy positions.

Archangel fiddled with her weapon's setting, making sure the beam splitter made the lasers stay close together. This wasn't going to be as open as back in Seattle, and with her fellow Enclave with her she did not want any friendly fire incidents. Like some of the others, she had to wait for the infiltration group to finish their mission before they would begin their push. She wished she could have gone in; she could have done a number to their electronic systems. But ultimately it wasn't necessary; their communication array will be disabled and restored after the Enclave take over. The group that went in had the necessary ability and equipment to do it themselves. Archangel was simply anticipating the signal. Getting ready for what they were about to do.

Winter pulled himself up, from the dirty sewers in which he had just gone through, into the world once more. He wasn't smiling, unusually, and he had try-hard mode activated. He knew exactly what kind of enemy they were up against, and it wasn't an easy one. This was no Seattle. This was gonna be one hell of a battle, he already knew. As he attempted to move forward, he realized that the noise his foot steps would make were amplified by the water. "Oh dearie." he whispered, looking back at Whisper.

He reached for his rifle, which was strung at his back, hanging by its tactical sling. He felt at the back of his armor, feeling the explosive he had attempted to jury rig to a bunch of waste power armor plates, to contain the explosion at the very least. Technically, they had to disable the comms tower quietly, but again, technically he was disabling it quietly. He'd set it off under the comms tower, literally underground, instead of doing it traditionally.

Whisper could possibly object, but he didn't know her well enough to make a prediction. If she said anything, he'd be damned if he let her change his mind. He was the stealth master here, he thought in arrogant tone, only to remember that he was mediocre at almost everything.

Under his wet and soaked flag, he licked his lips, and once more thought to himself. He was trying to visualize how he'd be explain his antics on the field to the Commander and Andrew "Explosives, sir." he would say, "Because, with all due respect, sir, overkill is underrated." If only Whisper could see through the wet fabric of his flag-scarf, she'd see a big grin.

His own antics amused him greatly, really. How he was selected for Eagle Point was something that would forever elude him, really. He looked down at his Marksman rifle, and pulled the operating rod back, just to check its functionality before he got into the fray, although he didn't really expect to get into a firefight.

Satisfied with its condition, he pushed the rod back, and motioned to Whisper to follow. They'd emerged in some sort of... drainage area, the best he could describe it. He could hear the sound of NCR troops somewhere around, and as he looked to the right, over a slight wall, he could see his objective. The tower, soon to be crashing down, quiet like. Although that was kind of redundant, because if it was crashing down, it wasn't quite stealthy. But then again, he'd gotten the trajectory and force of the explosion all worked out by one of the eggheads back at base, and he was sure that it wouldn't cause a hella lot of trouble, and whatever attention it would draw, which was likely quite a bit, he could deal with.

In and out, in and out, he recited. The comms tower was a half klick away, and the timer on the explosive would give him enough time to rush back to the extraction point, or at least make considerable progress towards it, giving him a head start to get the fuck outta there, like a crow out of hell.

He clicked the personal comms he had to Whisper, and said "Lets hoof it. And from now on, radio silence. Once they realize we're here, they'll scan the radio signals in and out, and we don't want them to ... overhear us, do we?", and begun to slowly make his way to the small wall.

The rain soaked his hardened skin as he crouched as low to the ground as he could next to Golem. Leinhart was anxious. Perhaps it was the monster that he had possessed that was making him crave to break cover and rush forward to tear apart the armor and flesh of the New California Republic Rangers that adorned the walls of the airport. To coat himself in their organs, crush their bones between his teeth, and send the surrounding troopers into a frenzy of fear that would cause them to scatter from the monster before them only to be slaughtered a few seconds later as the very thing they ran from outran them and forced them to endure a slow painful death. To lose control...that was what he was told, nay, ordered to do. Kill every last thing in sight, let the blood fury overtake his body, and not care that there may or may not be friendly entrails hanging from his maw.

His eyes followed a single sniper that was patrolling the wall. Her 50. caliber bolt action Chey-tac intervention sniper rifle held in her hands, her dark red nightvision from her energy-cell powered multi-situational combat respirator headgear piercing the gloom that the storm above created. She would be his first kill, he would make sure of it. If it wasn't for the heavy mist that the storm created, they would have no doubt been discovered by her now. This woman, standing straight and no doubt proud to wear the flag that adorned her back, fully knew that she might die this night. She had no regrets and had no fear of death. To break her and make her fear the death that would come from the razor sharp hands of a deathclaw would bring to him the...greatest of elation. The scene playing out time and time again in his mind while he waited in the muck. His breathing was slow and steady, but even then he shook a little as the anticipation of battle grew.

Not much longer now....

_______

Mentally preparing himself for the slaughter that was about to play in his scope, Deathstroke made his way to the top of his building. Standing atop it, with rain pouring down from above and soaking this hat and helmet, he looked around, his inner sniper getting the better of him. He spied a better location, a higher building, a short distance away. Turning from the comrade he had come up the building with, he ran towards the edge of the apartment complex and leaped off, crossing an alleyway and rolling onto the next building. Keeping the momentum, he ran up the wall of another building and ran across it's roof, making his way into the higher apartment complex via the fire-escape and moving to the roof. He kept quiet as he moved up the three hundred year old rickety staircase, moving to the top to take a better position. He had a much better grasp of the landscape here and could see into the enemy base should he choose to do so.

He took several steps as he set up, placing his rifle onto the ground, setting up the glare-tent around the position he would snipe from to keep the lens from being reflected off of by the lightning and the lights from the base. He used a washcloth to clean off the water that had gathered on the rifle and he put the scope onto the rail. He lowered the tripod and set it onto the edge of the roof and maneuvered it and the tent so that he could get the best line of sight onto the base. He saw the sniper emplacements and mentally recorded each one as they moved from position to position. He saw that the lights in the airport was still active and casting a dim glare that concealed some parts of the base from view due to the storm creating a mist. Accounting for it, he pulled back the bolt on the rifle, loaded in the clip of high velocity .444 Marlin rounds. He then grabbed a bullet from his shoulder, cleaned it of water residue and placed it into the chamber, locking the bolt firmly in place. Finally, he placed his remaining magazines of .444 Marlin rounds onto the ground next to the rifle, just underneath the tent, right there for when he does empty the one in the rifle.

Now that his sniper was ready to fire, he got onto one knee and closed his eyes, breathing deeply and listening to the rain. A personal practice he did before a large battle to prepare himself mentally for the challenge ahead, taking a state of mind to quickly compensate for the world changing around him and kill the targets that were before him. He was glad that he had Ginger along to command the other snipers. He tended to be very quiet while he focused, intent on doing what the Enclave trained him to do.

Kill.

___________

Moving close to Winter, she took cover with him next to the wall. He looked to her for confirmation to his previous statement. She took a moment to make several hand signs that spelled out the words "Shut the fuck up, you nutter." She then hit him on the back of the head and took the lead. She wasn't called "Whisper" for nothing, and lead Winter to the outside of the barracks. Inside, snoring and snorting could be heard as the three dozen or so soldiers inside slept peacefully, unaware that death was just outside the window. She motioned for the bomb that was on his back so they could blow up the barracks and make it easier for the other soldiers.that were attacking. But he refused. She threatened to kill him here and now, but he signed that the explosion could do too much damage outside of the comms tower. Sighing to herself, they came to the corner of the barracks. Their target was just across the airfield. In the middle of it actually, but several soldiers were on nightwatch. Thankfully, the Enclave had given them Stealth-boys MK-IIIs. The best version of the stealthboy yet with a shorter time, but it didn't burn out-instead recharging quick on it's own-but without any negative side-effects. Even without the schizophrenia of the MK-I. They activated their cloak and sprinted across the field, keeping low to the ground. They slipped between the patrols and made their way inside the tower. Just as they walked in, their stealth-boys failed and they became uncloaked. There were but a few personnel inside the tower, putting Whisper's Machete and Axe to good use.

Once the group was dealt with, they made their way to the basement where they would be able to access the detonation point for Winter's Improvised Explosive Device. Covering the door while he went to plant the IED, she couldn't help but think to herself while she waited. Sitting in the darkness of the room, the sound of the thunder piercing even the concrete walls around her, she couldn't help but be a little solemn about the situation. Sure they were in extreme danger and being caught would mean their death and the Enclave's loss against the NCR, with the NCR army possibly pushing north into canada and hunting down the Enclave again, but she felt calm still. Things like this were starting to become routine for her, the killing, the infiltration, the sabotage. It was easy for her to do and she didn't mind that fact. From what the therapist has helped her come to realize is that that kind of thought and conclusion is most likely horrible for her and her health. But then again, deep inside her, she knew.

She knew that she didn't care.