Tiberius67

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

Steve Miller - The Hull

Steve's blood froze as the restarted condenser cleared the fog from where Rose stood.....or had stood anyway. He'd seen some things in his short but active life...but nothing like this. She was gone, all that remained was the rifle that she had thrown to the ground in frustration. Steve's knees buckled for a moment and he was forced to steady himself against the parapet of the Hull.

The Cultist leader turned back to Corrine once again, the simple mask he wore concealing his features with impassive blankness.

"Your town is living on borrowed time," He said, "Tell your people that they must make their choice soon. Far Harbor can not remain as it is. Someone must make them choose..."

With that, the assembled group of Cultists turned and walked back into the fog-covered ruins of old Bar Harbor, melting back into its forbidding depths and leaving only questions in their wake.

"Anyone else think that was staged?", James...the Enclave one...asked loudly. "They took that railroad agent too quickly and easily....did anyone see her arms go down when the fog approached her?"

“She seemed surprised, but didn’t move like the rest of us would have," Castner replied, shaking his head. "The cult must have some way of effecting synths with the fog. Maybe Rose was forced to go. I hate to say it, but it seems like some kind of magic.”

"Oh and can someone help me get this off?" James asked as he backed into the power armorrack, "should go and see the doctor about my arm before the foggers come back."

Castner sighed and helped the Enclaver out of his power armor. “My makeshift bandages from earlier will do for now. I’m going to talk to Corrine and Steve about our next move.” As Steve descended the stairs, Corrine rejoined him. Castner got out of his suit as well and went to Corrine and Steve.

“It’s good we got Avery, but we need to start preparing the town. That sounded like the last bit of diplomacy we would get. We should get all those projects we had in mind going with the vertibird stuff. Do you still have people good at working on the Hull and other engineering?.”

"Agreed", Steve replied, "We don't have much time, and a lot to do."

Longfellow scratched his bearded chin a bit in contemplation, "Not sure really. The Mariner ain't around no more since she left to go find the Red Death. And nobody's really taken up the mantle to keep up the hull. I can maybe get a few strong backs together for lifting and the like, but we could use somebody who can tell them what to do and how to build it up better for protection."

"What kind of tools do folks have here?", Steve asked, "Does someone here have power tools for working with wood, metal and the like?" after a pause, Steve continued. "And I apologize in advance if it's impertinent to ask this....but where does this settlement get it's power from?"

Steve then looked back at Castner. "Referring to what you said earlier...magic, James? That's not something I expected to hear from a man of science", Steve said with a chuckle, finding it ironic that magic had been the first thing that popped into his mind as well, silly as that may be. "Kinda odd though how the rifle, then the condenser, fail then Rose doesn't react how she should. But then...a synth is a machine. A far more complex mechanism than a rifle or that condenser, but a mechanism all the same. What could affect all three within such a short period?"

Castner paused abruptly and stared at the spot where Rose was. “Rose couldn't have just disappeared,” he said slowly “What if they somehow forced her to run off into the Fog? If she moved quickly, she could have run off in the short time we couldn’t see her. I’m going to check for tracks. They could lead us to the cultists. Can either of you help me?” James went over to the ground near where Rose stood and started looking for footprints or other signs."

Steve joined James and Corrine as they approached the spot where Rose had been standing. As tracking wasn't something he had any experience in, he let Corrine take the lead and stayed back so as not to interfere. Instead, he picked up Rose's cast off rifle, giving it a cursory examination [opening breech enough to see if it loaded (without ejecting the round) and making a quick examination to spot obvious problems that would have caused a 'failure to fire']. He then looked over at James and Corrine.

"Find anything?", he asked.

War Never Changes

Simon Barnaky - SAC HQ Bunker

"Do you have any objections to this plan Lord?" Aurelius asked.

"None, Legate", Barnaky replied. "Paladin-General Wilson is in the process of shifting his Headquarters from Bunker Alpha outside of Chicago to Indianapolis's Airport. He is overall Commander of this Operation, and reports directly to me. Military matters should go through him, but as far as matters of State I am at your disposal." Barnaky then pressed a button on the remote and some icons and arrows appeard on the map, originating in Chicago and circumnavigating Michigan to Detroit, he then continued. A Expeditionary force is being assembled in Chicago...it's goals are to make a landing in northern Michigan, at Cherry City, or Traverse City as it was known Pre-War, and reinforce the forces at the Soo Docks. The ultimate objective is Detroit. Our staffs can work out the details of redirecting the formations you are committing to that front. Outside of Detroit and the parts of Michigan that are claimed by the Republic, Michigan is sparsely populated, we estimate by well under 50,000 people. The Cult's armies depend on foraging in the field....helping the civilians escape the Cult offensive, and bottling the Cult up there, will force them to battle on our terms, or starve. It won't be easy though."

"And you Vulpes?", Aurelius asked, "What is your opinion?"

"If Lord Barnaky approves, then I have no objections. My only concern is that as the Legion advances east, we have adequate knowledge regarding the terrain but more importantly the enemy we are facing. With that in mind Lord Barnaky, I would ask that my Frumentarii be briefed by your Inquisitors on the nature of the cult and effective ways to counter them. A psychological war may be improbable to fight against madmen, but not impossible. All men fear something: perhaps we can supply it to them."

"Funny you should mention fear, Vulpes", Barnaky said, musing to himself. "Brother Joseph tells me he may have have found something, but he is not sure what to make of it. It's very strange...you should talk to him about it. As to briefings on the Cult and it's nature, he has a program ready...not only for you and the Frumentarii, but for the senior officers of the Legions as well. With possession of Pittsburgh came a considerable Pre-War industrial base, and they have made good use of it. Their troops are well armed with crude but serviceable weapons, and they make extensive use of vehicles and artillery. They are also fond of mass assaults employing feral ghouls and have a sizeable number of Mutants among their ranks."

"On that note as well," Aurelius interjected, turning to Barnaky, "I would inform you that Caesar has ordered me to show no mercy to these cultists. Civilians will not be harmed, but those tainted by the Cult, and any who serve it...we will be crucified. They can howl to their abomination of a god when they're up on a cross...we'll see if it answers them then."

"Hah", Barnaky chuckled at the vision the Legate's phrase conjured up in his mind, "Nice turn of phrase, Aurelius. We shoot or hang them, then display the corpses....that gets the message across well enough for our purposes. Crucifixion ought to get the attention of those who willingly align themselves with the Cult, at least. We plan on annexing all of Indiana and much of Michigan when this is over, if blood must be shed, it's best to get it done and over with up front. One thing you should know though, is that the Cult often press-gang common Wastelanders into serving, and even fighting for them, against their will. We do try to screen those out for interrogation...and re-education if judged salvageable...when practical before dealing permanently with the rest. As for confirmed Cult members...I don't know what they do to them there, but any of them that go to Pittsburgh, which seems to be a pilgrimage for them, are driven quite mad by the experience. We get what we can out of them then put them down like the mad dogs they are."

"The Cult itself has no positive message, a vision for the future, or really anything to offer the Wastelanders out there", Barnaky continued, "It relies on terror to compel obedience, and even obedience to their commands offer no guarantee of safety. Lift the Cult's boot off their necks, and offer them a future, and the civilians swing right into line....and they know better than anyone who among them needs killing."

War Never Changes

SAC HQ Bunker- Operations Room

"Comfortable and expedient, thanks to you my Lord," Aurlius replied as he accepted the robot's offer of a customary handshake with some hesitation.

"Glad to hear it", Barnaky replied. "Rebuilding the rail net was one of the best investments we've made...the economic and strategic benefits that flow from it far outweigh the cost, as high as that was."

"I would introduce to you as well", Aurelius continued, "Primus Frumentarius Vulpes Inculta, leader of The Legion's Frumentarii."

"An honor to meet you once again my Lord," Vulpes said with a bow, "Our brief time in Vegas was unexpectedly short. I'm afraid the treachery of the NCR dogs made certain of that."

"Likewise, Primus Frumentarius", Barnaky replied, "both Brother Joseph and I regret that the conference failed before we could meet with you and your Lord. The Californians are indeed a foolish people...they have all the vices of the Old United States, yet few of it's virtues. Hopefully, Lucius Caesar sending their President home in a box will finally make them see the error of their ways."

"Thanks to the valor of your Legions", Barnaky continued, "I don't see them plaguing us with their stupidity and greed for the next few years at least....which is convenient as we have work to do."

Barnaky then picked up a remote from the map table and pushed a button, and the world map on the large screen on the far wall changed to a map of what was the Eastern United States, with the declared borders of the Brotherhood, Cult, the Detroit Republic, and smaller powers were marked.

"I'll give you a brief rundown of the situation", Barnaky began, "and answer any questions you have. I've also arranged for your Command staff to be fully briefed."

"We are advancing on three fronts", Barnaky continued, "The Southern force is moving on Louisville, Kentucky, along I-64 and the Ohio River. So far, they have met little resistance...mostly Raiders and petty local despots. The Central force, proceeding down I-70 and I-74, has reached Indianapolis and placed it under siege. Two days ago, the Airport was secured and the Paladin-General is moving his Headquarters there to be closer to the front. The Northern force is advancing East along I-90, with the objective of reaching the I-69 interchange. Then forces from all three fronts would cut off Fort Wayne, the main Cult stronghold in Indiana, and destroy the forces there. All the while diplomatic efforts would be made to secure the cooperation of the Detroit Republic for an advance to Columbus, from which we can directly threaten the Cult's heartland. But a complication has come up which may require a re-evaluation of the plan."

"The enemy, of course, has responded with moves of their own", Barnaky said. "They have launched a full scale Invasion of the Detroit Republic, and are doing better than we would like. Their initial objectives appear to be Toledo and Columbus. Columbus was expected, for the reasons I gave before, but some of their moves in the north were surprising."

"A large force entered Michigan, coming South from Canada along I-75. They seized the Soo Locks...which would have cut off maritime traffic between Lakes Superior and Huron...but thankfully did not seem to recognize it's strategic importance as it was not damaged and only lightly garrisoned. They are awfully determined to get into Lake Michigan...no matter how many of their ships my sailors sink they keep coming." Barnaky shrugged, a odd expression for a robot to make, "So be it. If they want to die, we'll gladly oblige them. Analysis of captured communications and interrogating the occasional prisoner generally back up the Cult radio broadcasts that one of their objectives is Chicago...a goal that we see as unrealistic, to say the least, given the depth of Chicago's defenses. We've taken steps to guard against that, nevertheless, as they may have a unconventional strategy in mind...similar to your rather effective way of removing Searchlight from the strategic chessboard at a stroke in the Mojave War, Vulpes."

"Another force is currently contending for Toledo", Barnaky continued, "This move we expected. We believe the Cult intends to take Detroit...this would effectively bring down the Republic and add the bulk of it's industrial base to theirs. Unfortunately, the Republic was not prepared for war, which mystifies me, and is losing on all fronts. We see no choice but to intervene. Detroit must be held at all costs, but there is another opportunity here....the possibility of bottling up two of their Field Armies inside Michigan where we can force them to battle on our terms and annihilate them. At the same time, we must continue the advance on Columbus to keep the pressure on, prop up the Republic...and open the path to Pittsburgh so we can strangle this Cult in it's cradle."

"Given the size of the Legion's contribution to the war effort", Barnaky said in conclusion, "It is only appropriate the Legion's role reflect that contribution. To that effect, Legate, I would like to offer you command of one of the Fronts...either our efforts in Michigan, or the Drive on the East, towards Columbus. We will, of course, attach to your command appropriate specialist and support units, who will report to you. While this is without precedent in Brotherhood history, blind obedience to the Codex invariably led to the undoing of every other chapter but mine....so while I respect precedent when I can, I'm not afraid to replace them with new ones when Duty requires it."

"That's the situation in a nutshell", Barnaky said, "If you have questions I'd be pleased to answer them."

War Never Changes

Central Nebraska

The passenger train, pulled by a massive 4-8-4 "Northern" steam locomotive, rocketed across the plains at a steady 75 miles an hour, the two large red flags bearing the Bull of Caesar affixed to the front of the locomotive proudly flapping in the breeze. While she was rated for a maximum speed almost twice that, doing so would complicate things for the railway officials clearing the path for the Express train so it could maintain this speed all the way to it's destination. Passengers inside, if they chose to look out the windows, could see small, tidy towns and massive fields of razorgrain and other crops, tended by purpose built robots roll by. Often, they passed by other trains, waiting patiently at sidings for them to pass. Occasionally, they passed by work gangs, made up of robots and what seemed to be prisoners, dismantling abandoned Pre-War towns and cities down to their very foundations for recycling. As the train began to approach Omaha, the towns got larger, and upon reaching the outskirts of the Brotherhood Capital, the factories, both refurbished pre-war installations and new ones, underlined the growing economic strength at the Brotherhood's command.

Pulling into Omaha's main train station, a unit of power armored soldiers had formed a cordon along the platform, keeping curious civilians of all kinds, including a contingent of Barnaky Youth in their black uniforms and red scarves, that were waiting to embark on trains at a respectful distance as the occupants disembarked, to be greeted by a party of senior officials, and ushered outside where a a convoy of passenger cars, buses and trucks, waited for them. Making their way through the city, while some buses and trucks could be seen, most traffic through the rebuilt and busy city streets was either horse drawn or bicycles. Omaha, with a population slightly over 125,000, was only surpassed by Chicago in size in Brotherhood territory. The ravages of the Great War had erased long ago, the buildings they passed by were either properly repaired Pre-War structures, or stoutly built new ones, of brick or concrete. Driving south, they eventually passed out of the city, and to what was clearly a old military base, the repaired and repainted sign identifying it as Offut AFB, along with a old insignia that one with knowledge of the Old world military would recognize as the insignia of the Strategic Air Command. Behind, and towering over it, was a granite marker on which the Midwestern Brotherhood's logo, cast from bronze, was set to show who controlled the base now. Entering the base, like in Omaha itself the buildings were either old, but meticulously repaired, or entirely new structures. The runways were in use, with military aircraft, most but not all cargo aircraft, taking off or landing frequently. Security was tight, with a heavy presence of power-armored infantry and The convoy proceeded deep into the base, eventually pulling up to the entrance to a underground bunker, where the occupants, after clearing the checkpoint, were led inside.

SAC Command Bunker - Operations Room

Barnaky, or to be more precise, the robot he was controlling, looked up from the map he had been studying as the polite applause began, to see the party of Legion officials, along with their Brotherhood escorts, enter to the applause of the entire staff. The pair at his head, he immediately recognized from photographs. If he could, he would have smiled warmly as they strode up to him and the introductions were made.

"Legate Aurelius", Barnaky said warmly as he extended his hand, "Welcome to Omaha, your reputation precedes you...it's good to finally meet you!". He then added, "Please forgive the robot, I've found using this form is easier for others to, well, relate to than other methods. How was your trip?"

War Never Changes

Markle, Indiana Highway 3 bridge

"Her eyes," Robert remarked to Harkness as he recovered from the shock of his first real encounter with a devoted member of the cult, "She had to be utterly insane. And what was she babbling about? Abominations and Ug-Qualtoth? I mean I've seen some crazy things in my time with The Brotherhood: chemed up raiders...even the President-loving zealots in The Enclave, but that...that was something else."

"Ug-Qualtoth", Harkness replied, saying the name with great distaste, "is what they call thier "god". According to their dogma, it's an immortal alien being of immense age...supposedly existing long before Mankind...and power. It supposedly sleeps deep underground near a place called Dunwich...from Pre-War records a sparsely populated rural community in Eastern Massachusetts. Oddly specific, given that from the best the Inquisitors have been able to tell the Cult itself originated from a backwater coastal community in Maryland. It is currently asleep, they say....supposedly because conditions aren't right for it to be active...they either seek to wake it or to have an army to place at it's disposal when it does, I'm not sure which. I've sat through the briefings...all squad leaders and above have...it's nonsense, of course, but they all believe it implicitly....and that makes them extremely dangerous."

"Heard about your run-in with the Enclave", Harkness added, "Good work ridding the world of those bastards."

From the West, the sound of rotors could be dimly heard.

"Your ride is here", Harkness said, then giving the order for flares to be lit and placed to mark the LZ for the Vertibirds., and for the troops to lay down suppression fire on enemy positions as the Vertibirds approached.

Soon, two Vertibirds, flying fast and low, flew in, and one at a time, hovered low above the river, as crewmen in side pushed objects into the water, then returning and landing, rotors still running for quick takeoff. Two figures, in black fatigues with combat armor over them, jumped off the Vertibird, making way as the Knights loaded their wounded comrade and his damaged suit into the Vertibird, and then approached Harkness and Kyle.

"Brother Harkness, I presume?" the leader, a intense looking woman, asked. Harkness nodded. "I'm Inquisitor Stahl, my orders are to take custody of your prisoners, as well as Brother Kyle and the other people rescued from town."

"Been expecting you, Inquisitor", Harkness replied coolly. While the Inquisition was necessary, he still didn't like the amount of power they were given and didn't fully trust them. "May I introduce Brother Kyle, Lancer-Sergeant of the Eastern Chapter?"

"Pleased to meet you, Brother", Stahl said, extending her hand to Kyle, "On behalf of the Midwestern Order, I welcome you to our lands." she then added, "Please come with me. You and I, and the other rescuees will take the first Vertibird. My associate will travel with the prisoners."

Stahl led Kyle to the first Veribird, where the three civilians were being helped onboard. As the pair embarked, the old woman..now hogtied..and a couple wounded and cowed Raiders in handcuffs were unceremoniously loaded onto the second Vertibird. Once loading was complete, Stahl raised a gloved fist and pounded twice on the bulkhead separating the passenger compartment from the cockpit and the engines immediately revved up and the Vertibird took the the air, and slowly began to head west.

"We'll be at the forward command base in Indianapolis in about fifteen minutes", Stahl said, "After what you've been through, I'm sure you'd like a hot meal and some sleep before we interview you...they are also sending someone from Omaha to speak to you directly..but if you have any questions, i'll answer as best I can."

Outside Markle, IN, I-69 Bridge 8:00 am

Frank stood on the single intact span, seething as he beheld the smoke curling from the rubble of the camp at the East end of the bridges, and beyond it to the smouldering hulks of all too many of thier vehicles along the highway leading back to town. They'd managed to save one span, but only just...and the price they'd paid for that victory was outrageously high. Forced to make a headlong advance down the interstate, the Brotherhood had been waiting and taken a terrible toll on their Marauders, demolishing the north span of the bridge before they could close to engage. fortunately, they had not completed wiring the south span for demolition, and they had managed to reach and disarm many of the charges already placed before they detonated them to cover their retreat. While the bridge was damaged, it was still serviceable. A Marauder was rapidly approaching from the town, deftly swerving around the smoking wrecks at full speed as if it was running an obstacle course. it roared up, screeching to a halt next to the Mutant. The armored driver side door groaned open, and Peg, now wearing clothes, at least, climbed out. The grim expression on her face said it all, but Frank had to ask anyway.

"What's the situation in town, Peg", Frank asked. "And where the fuck is Slade?"

"it's fucking bad", Peg replied bitterly, "They blew the fuel and ammo dumps, the fusion generator is completely fucked...and if that wasn't enough, they let the ferals out, too, and then painted their symbol all over the place, including the water tower. We can't even put the squares to work fixing this mess until they can round the ferals up again. As far as Slade, he went into the river when they blew the Highway 3 bridge. He made it out...and they've run about all the Rad-Away in town through him...doc says he'll probably make it, and we'll know in about twelve hours if he's gonna change or not." She then added, "Just found out about something else you aren't gonna like."

"Out with it, Peg", Frank said wearily, "it can't get much worse."

"Slade had caught one of their soldiers and was holding them in the Jail with this month's tribute", Peg said, "I'm told his Vertibird, or whatever, had broke and he had to land where a patrol managed to catch him." She added, "Both are gone, by the way."

"And why wasn't I told of this?", Frank hissed. "Did Slade think that was not important?"

"He's dumb as shit...", Peg said with a smirk, "...but he ain't stupid. He knew it was important....he just wanted all the credit with Rog'Resh for serving him up a Brotherhood prisoner for himself, that's all."

"Of course he did", Frank said disgustedly. "Go back....once the ferals are rounded up roust out the locals able to work and send thirty or so out here. We've got to start fortifying the approaches to that bridge."

War Never Changes

Highway 3 Bridge

"That's incredible," Robert said, with a mixture of awe and surprise, "I'm glad to see the Midwestern Chapter has fared far better than we did. Whatever our differences, at least we might both be considered Brothers-in-arms, and its good to know that at least one chapter has found success."

"I appreciate that", Harkness replied, "Many Brothers and Sisters, especially in the West, don't understand that the world has changed since the days of Maxon, we can't go on like we had before. We have to either adapt or die. We chose to adapt, something many have not forgiven us for. The Western Elders ignored the suffering of the Wastelanders around them until it was too late, the result of their error was to be driven from the Order's very birthplace into exile in Oregon by the NCR. We haven't had contact with your Order for some time, but I understand Elder Lyons came to a similar conclusion as we did....it's a pity that his successor, Maxon, didn't seem to agree. I'm sure our leaders will be interested to hear...a moment please.", Harkness was interrupted by a incoming message.

"Yes, my Lord, the charges are set", Harkness said, clearly communicating with someone over the radio, "We were only waiting for Brother Murphy to deliver Brother Kyle and the others. I understand...we will be ready for them."

"We need to move", Harkness said to Kyle as he picked up the pace, "The enemy has figured out what we are up to, and there is a strong force heading here to try to stop us."

As the pair jogged towards the end of the bridge, Harkness began issuing orders for the battle to come. Once they reached the other end of the bridge, Harkness did a roll call to ensure that all squads were present, and then gave the order to hold fire, except for Delta, spread out in a skirmish line, until the supports were blown. They then took up their positions and waited...but not for long. Soon, a sizeable force of Raiders, at their head a scrawny, robed, old woman, pushed down the road and onto the bridge. Delta squad began to fire, picking off Raiders with each volley, but that seemed to only spur them to advance faster. Harkness watched, waiting grimly for the center of the column to move into the kill zone. Once the Raiders were committed irrevocably, Harkness raised the detonator and thumbed the safety off.

"Fire in the hole!", Harkness called out, then pushed the fire button. The charges below the bridge detonated and the entire structure began to collapse into the river in spectacular fashion. eliminating the bulk of the enemy force at a stroke. The Raiders behind her cowered at the blast, but the crazy old woman kept moving forward, babbling crazy talk.

"Weapons free", Harkness called out on his radio, "Light 'em up, but try not to waste that old crone!"

Now, Harkness's entire force opened fire upon the trapped and decimated enemy, who began dropping like flies in the crossfire.

"BE AWARE, SLAVES OF STEEL!" the old woman screeched as she strode forward, heedless of the carnage around her, "SERFS OF A BRAIN IN A JAR! FOR WE CAN KNOW NO FEAR! IT WHAT SLUMBERS UNDER DUNWHICH WILL AWAKE! AND IT SHALL FIND A REALM UNITED IN ITS WORSHIP! I HAVE SPOKEN THE NAME THAT BURNS!"

A laser beam stabbed into her shoulder, causing her to fall, but then she staggered to her feet and began to move forward again.

Now only a couple yards from Harkness and his command squad, she looked at them and pointed. glaring at the group. "THERE IS NO SALVATION FOR ANY OF YOU! UG-QUALTOTH WILL FEAST ON YOUR SOUL, AND CHEW ON YOUR SPIRIT..." It was then, that suddenly fear appeared on her withered face, and she stopped to scream. "S..souless Abomination..w..what is that thing...."

Stumbling backwards, she began to crawl away. Harkness looked to where she had been looking, finding it was at the very spout where Brother Kyle, who looked a bit astonished himself, stood, his laser rifle at the ready. Harkness turned his attention back to the woman and spat out an order, two solders sprung forward, one grabbing her arms so she could not detonate any suicide charge, the other roughly frisking her.

"No bomb, sir", the second solder said, then none too gently picked up the struggling woman, and carried her to the rear, still shrieking nonsense about her "god" and "souless ones".

"Search her more closely, and put a gag on her", Harkness instructed, "I don't want to listen to her bullshit all the way back to base." The fighting on this side of the river now over, he called another roll call. the squad leaders reported all troops accounted for, and one casualty, a soldier in Delta squad had been hit by a armor piercing rocket. His suit had saved him, but he was badly hurt and needed CASEVAC, which Harkness called in for. After receiving their reply, Harkness went back to the unit channel.

"Form a skirmish line along the riverbank and prepare to provide suppressive fire...", Harkness said, ".....the surprise package is en route...ETA 10 minutes."

"Surprise package?" Robert replied with unease as he gripped the laser rifle he'd be given tightly, "What sort of surprise are we talking about here?"

"Some new playmates for these people the Scribes came up with", Harkness said, "Basically, small robots optimized for underwater deployment. They want to see how well they can keep them from trying to repair the bridge or cross by boat....as well as how they adapt to their deployment. Harassment, at this stage of the development cycle....they'll help to remind the enemy that we're coming back one day and making them think about whether they really want to be here when we do."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

Mary Hawthorne - Her House

“Na...no", Shelby said, clearly rattled by the accusation enough to drop her sassy comebacks for a moment, "I have some other business that needs handled. Sooner rather than later would be nice. I need the jar to...nevermind, I just need a fuckin’ jar damnit. What color bath do you want?” She raised her brow and smirked, “I can't draw for shit, but I'll try.” She placed her hands on her hips, “I'll just surprise you I suppose.”

With that Shelby slipped across the hall to the bathroom, from which Mary could hear the tub being turned on. Still fuming, Mary went out and descended the stairs, and headed into the kitchen....her anger ebbed away as she located a mason jar that was empty and went back upstairs. It was not wise of her to take out her anger over being reminded of the life she had once had on the younger woman...after all that was a choice she had made herself. As she climbed back up the stairs, Shelby emerged from the bathroom and bowed and gestured towards it, “Ye bath is ready.” Then she straightened up, “I'll go ask Bolts for a jar, sorry I bothered you.”

"Don't be silly", Mary said matter-of factly as she handed Shelby the jar, "Here's your jar...", she added as she shed her bathrobe and let it fall to the floor, then casually kicked it across the floor into the corner, "....now if you please, wash my back and tell me about this business you need to conduct."

Mary settled in the tub, and Shelby obliged by soaping up and then washing her back while explaining her predicament. A variation of a age old tale....Shelby had been jilted by her lover, the young sickly woman who owned the horse, and sought revenge. Mary found this to be fortuitous...if Shelby was to follow in her footsteps, she would have to cut her ties with her past. Dealing with this Eliza woman and her friends could easily serve as a means to gauge how far Shelby was willing to go...if she proved squeamish it was better to learn now than later. An idea began to form in her mind.

"You wanted to learn my ways", Mary finally said, "How would you like your first lesson?"

Mary patiently listened to Shelby's reply then answered.

"What I propose will give you the revenge you seek", Mary replied, "But I'm warning you....if we do this there is no going back. You will see and do things that will change how you see the world forever. And you must swear you'll do exactly what I say once this begins....no matter what I ask of you, because it will mean both of our deaths if you disobey me."

"If you do as I ask", Mary concluded, "I will take you as my apprentice and teach you what I can." Her bath concluded, she stood up, and stepped out of the tub and bade Shelby dry her off. She then walked into her room and produced a old pre-war road map from a dresser.

"Danvers is eight miles north-west of us", Mary explained, showing her on the map. "A mile to the North of that is a crossroads...here. Take my wagon and brahmin, and meet me there at noon once you've acquired your "friends". They are no use for our purposes dead....and Eliza and Sarah need to be in reasonably good shape. From there, we will proceed to our destination. If you do not appear there by the day after tomorrow...I'm going to assume that you've changed your mind and we'll never speak of these things again. I won't hold it against you so long as you keep silent about what you already know."

She then leaned forward and took Shelby's head in her hands and kissed her with some heat, pushing her tongue into her mouth, then let go.

"Now go", Mary said, "Go and track down those who wronged you....bring them to me and together we will teach them a lesson they'll remember until they die."

War Never Changes

Monitor Relentless - Whitefish Bay, Lake Superior

"What do you think is happening, Commodore?", Captain Barrett, Commanding Officer of the Relentless, asked pensively, before raising his spyglass to his eye again to scrutinize the columns of smoke curling up into the sky to the East, in the direction of the Soo Locks, or "The Passage" as most Lakemen called it now. "Calypso have a spat with the Canucks again?"

That was certainly possible, given Calypso's recent attack on Thunder Bay to punish them for "smuggling"...but Commodore Hackett didn't think so. The Passage was the only way for ships to cross from Lake Superior to Lake Huron...no Lakeman worthy of the name would dream of risking damaging it and sparking a vendetta with everyone who depended on the Lakes for their livelihood. Hackett had spent almost his entire life onboard ships..in fact, he'd even been born on one... before and after his people had given up their nomadic lifestyle on the Lakes and entered Lord Barnaky's service. And as for Calypso herself, she may well be crazy, but crazy like a fox. The tolls from passing lake traffic were the foundation of her wealth, she'd never cut off her nose to spite her face. He sighed and lowered his spyglass.

"No, Harry", Hackett said calmly, "I have a bad feeling about this. Make best speed for The Passage. Go to GQ when we reach the mouth of the St Mary. And send the radioman to my quarters...I must report this." He then began to climb down the ladder leading into the turret, stopping momentarily to add, "Send for me if anything unusual happens."

"Aye, Commodore." Barret replied, then turning to a sailor, wearing a set of sound powered phones and the dull browninsh-gray hazard suit that was uniform underway, "Con, make revolutions for Flank Speed, come left to course 048."

After repeating the order verbatim, the sailor spoke it into the mouthpiece, passing it to the helmsman inside the pilot house behind them, and both men felt the deck vibrate beneath them as the monitor began to increase speed to her maximum speed of 15kts.

Three hours later - off Pointe Aux Pins

The Relentless rapidly approached the Point Aux Pins, where the river widened and they would actually be able to see the Locks...though from the clouds of billowing, black smoke rising up from both the Canadian and US side of the river, he was not going to like what he saw. The nearest of the three other Monitors in his Division, the Retribution, and her escort of three gunboats, were only three hours away, but Hackett had decided to push ahead alone, trusting in the Monitor's thick armor, heavy guns, and well drilled crew to extricate him from any trouble.

No sooner did they reach the bend in the river, turning starboard to stay well clear of the wreck of a old Pre-War guided missile cruiser, aground and rusting away in the Shallows to Starboard, a rare victory for the Canadians before being overwhelmed by Manifest Destiny before the Great War, did the lookout cry out the alarm.

"Enemy vessels to Port!"

Barret and Hackett swiveled together to look, spotting a pair of makeshift ironclads move away from shore and rapidly accelerating in their direction. Broad-beamed, shallow draft, ungainly vessels, they were crudely built and crudely armored, with rusting steel plates, and even railroad rails attached to sloping wooden casemates. On top of the casemate, figures could be seen capering and gibbering, waving melee weapons at them. Neither man was worried, makeshift vessels such as these were exactly the sort of vessel their Monitor was built to combat.

"Looks like we've got a fight on our hands, Harry", Hackett said with a hit of anticipation to his voice, "Time to go inside, I think."

"Very good sir", Barret replied, gesturing towards to open hatch into the turret, "after you, sir!"

One after another, the sailor manning the phone, then Hackett, then Barret, clambered down into the turret, Barrett dogging the hatch securely behind him. Barret then entered the pilot house, while the Commodore went to his post, the Auxiliary Pilothouse on the aft turret as the Relentless steered to engage the enemy.

At six hundred yards, the Relentless turned slightly to enable the aft turret to bear forward, and one at a time, fired her four 8" rifles at the lead enemy vessel. the first shot was long, the second short, the third landed close enough to douse the forward end of the enemy vessel with water.....while the fourth was a solid hit on the front of the casemate. As the angle of slope on the casemate was poorly thought out, the armor was not sufficient to defeat the 8" High Explosive shell, which penetrated the armor and detonated inside the casemate, turning the gundeck into a blazing abattoir. With smoke pouring out of the shell's entry hole, and the forward gunports, the vessel, it's helmsman and bridge crew dead at their posts, careened hard to starboard, running hard aground on the river bank before it could begin going in circles.

Inside the pilot house, Captain Barrett grinned with satisfaction.

One down, one to go.

Turning deftly to starboard to avoid a attempt by the remaining ship to ram, both vessels fired their broasides into each other at less than two hundred yards. Few of the enemy shells hit, and those that did bounced harmlessly off Relentless's turrets. Relentless's shells, however, wreaked devastation on the crude vessel, and in the third volley, a shell landed under the ironclad's armor belt and found the magazine, and the vessel erupted in a massive explosion, showering debris for a hundred yards around. But before Captain Barret could celebrate, a cry came up from the lookout.

"Enemy vessel to Starboard!"

Rushing to the starboard side of the armored conning tower to look out, Barret grimaced as he saw a third of the crude ironclads steaming towards them from around the wreck of the old cruiser...where they had been waiting for their comrades to herd Relentless into range.

"Bastards!", Barret hissed, then picked up the 1MC to open up the shipwide communication circuit. "Rig for collision to starboard, stand by to repel boarders!"

On the decks of the ironclad, he could see dozens of men, equipped with ladders, waiting for the right time to deploy. Within moments, the ironclad wheeled about, running hard alongside the Monitor. Instantly, boarders leaped aboard the Monitor, hauling ropes to lash the two ships together using the monitor's own bollards, even as the ladders crashed down onto the Monitor's decks and the enemy swarmed aboard. now, for the first time, he could heard their battle cries, and the name they shouted praise to, and realized who they were.....The Cult.

For a split second, fear gripped his heart, but it passed as quick as it came. Barrett was a professional, and knew his duty...the Brotherhood hadn't entrusted him with one of their precious capital ships for nothing. Issuing orders for the anti-boarding systems to be activated, he then instructed the gunners to swivel the turrets to bear on the starboard side and load the special flechette rounds they had been provided for just this purpose. Outside, live, high pressure steam began to shoot out of special ports in the turret sides, scalding anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way. Those cultists close to the turrets began to feverishly work to drove wedges, iron bars, ect between the turret and the deck to jam it into place...all in vain as the hydraulic drive that powered the turrets powered right through their attempts. No sooner did the turrets swivel into position than all four guns fired at once, issuing clouds of high velocity steel darts directly into the boarders.....sweeping the decks of both vessels clear like a steel broom. Barrett, not to mention the turret crews, could hear the screams and cries clearly.

"Away all boarders!", Barrett said into the 1MC handset. In response, hatches both fore and aft opened, and power-armored Knights followed by armed sailors, emerged onto deck. As the Knights crossed the ladders and boarded the Cultist's ship....shots began to ring out as the sailors, gingerly navigating the decks, streaming with blood, began finishing off what few boarders had survived the hail of flechette rounds. From the enemy ship, more fighting could be heard below decks, but about ten minutes later, a Knight emerged onto the top of the casemate and tore down the banner at the mainmast of the enemy ship and hoisted the ensign of the Brotherhood in it's place....the battle was won.

The Passage - Four Hours later

"They came from the North, down the 75 in the middle of the night", Cap said bitterly, "By the time we knew what was happening, we'd already been overrun." He then added, "should have known better and run when Calypso flew in and picked up Reggie the day before...the bitch!"

"What happened to Calypso?", Hackett asked.

"Got away clean in that Vertibird she stole from the The Thunder Bay people, I reckon", Cap answered. "Took Shelby and all her cronies with her....and left the rest of us to die." He spat on the floor in anger. "Kissed that bitch's ass for years...and this was our reward." He waved around at the billowing smoke from the settlements on both sides of the river, and several of the non-essential structures at the lock.

Hackett looked at the devastation around them, and shook his head sadly as the old man ranted about Calypso's betrayal as they questioned him about what he had witnessed. slowly, Hackett coaxed the story out of him. Calypso had taken her closest cronies and fled about a day ahead of the Cult's arrival. The Cult had sacked the Settlement and killed or carried off everyone not able to flee in time. They then burned the settlement to the ground and marched south down the Interstate. All that was left were the lock crews, they had been spared solely to work the locks...from orders they had found on the Cult ironclad they had captured they had been ordered to scout out Cherry City, what Traverse City was called now. Apparently they had spotted Relentless before they had left and decided to have a go at her first. Fortunately for Cap and his co-workers, most of the garrison had tried to garner glory for themselves by bolstering the crew of the Ironclads in their attempt to ambush and capture the Relentless...the few that had remained behind were easy prey for Relentless's Knight detachment.

"Commodore", Cap finally asked, "What do you plan to do with the Locks?"

"It's not for me to say", Hackett said, "But I've already recommended to Barnaky that we occupy them forthwith."

Cap sighed with relief.

"Best news I've heard in two days", Cap replied.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

Steve Miller - Doc Wright's - Far Harbor

"You can rest, now, okay?", Corrine said, clearly concerned as she eased him down onto the cot. "The doc is gonna check you over and fix you up, an' I'm gonna stay right --"

Corrine was interrupted by someone shouting outside.

"..o'course it is," Corrine muttered. She looked over at Steve and gave him a pained look. "Better go see what the ruckus is." She stood up, picked up her modified spear, and stepped out. Before Steve could do more then stir, Doc Wright closed in.

"You need to stay right here, young man", Doc Wright said as he gently pushed him back onto the cot and began to examine him. "From what I can see, most of the blood you're covered in is yours....hold still and let me get a look at you. Steve winced as the doc examined his wounds. After a moment, he looked up at Steve's face.

"Stimpacks seem to have done good work on the wounds...", Doc Wright said as he stood up and began to collect his instruments, "...but you've lost a lot of blood. You wouldn't know your blood type, would you?"

Steve shook his head no.

"Didn't think so", Doc replied sardonically, "Nobody ever does. First I'll deal with your wounds then we'll get some blood back into you." After getting his shirts off, the Doc gave him a shot of something and got to work. As the doc worked on him, Steve noticed through the front windows more and more people gravitating towards the gate.

"Any idea what is going on out there?", Steve asked.

"Nope', said the doc as he ran a probe through the bullet wound in his arm, and once satisfied the bullet had gone clean through, withdrew it and began to suture the wound closed. "As I haven't heard any shooting yet, it's probably nothing too serious....Corrine will tell us about it when she gets back." He then added sternly, 'Speaking of Corrine, you're lucky she was with you, mister...if you'd been alone you'd have died out there long before Longfellow and the others could get to you. I'm sure she warned you how bad it gets out there at night.'

"She did", Steve replied wearily, "But we didn't see any other option. If we hadn't, the Cult people would have gotten the equipment in Castner's Vertibird. With four suits of power armor, they'd have been no stopping them."

"Perhaps", Doc replied, "But that was a huge risk you fellows took....you got lucky this time, but I doubt that luck will hold if you try something like that again."

"Wounds closed", Doc Wright said with satisfaction as he stood again, "Now to type your blood and see what we have on hand." As he worked, he continued. "Wounds themselves weren't serious, what nearly killed you was that gulper nicked a vein when it tried to eat your arm.....good thing it wasn't a adult or you wouldn't have made it." He then added, "O Positive....your luck is still holding."

Producing a couple of blood packs from a decrepit old refrigerator, he put one on a IV pole and wheeled it next to the cot and hooked it to Steve. Several minutes...and two pints of blood later, Steve felt a lot better.

"You should be OK now", doc said, "I heard you have a room at the Last Plank....I recommend getting cleaned up, get a good meal and turn in....and no drinking for a few days, you're still a bit low. If you start feeling poorly, or notice any signs of infection, you come back to me immediately."

"Thanks, Doc", Steve said as he fumbled for his cap purse, "How much do I..."

"Go rest", Doc cut him off, "We'll settle up later".

Noticing his rifle propped up against a cabinet, where presumably Corrine had left it, Steve picked it up and shuffled outside. Catching his reflection in a window pane, he was a bit wan but not too bad, though his bloody coat and shirt certainly made him a sight. The area around the shops was deserted, though he could hear a discussion of some kind behind him in the direction of the Hull. Deciding to head to the Last Plank and get his spare shirt...and drop off the rifle... Steve turned and began to walk until he got to the Mirelurk boiler, at which point he stopped and began to look it over. Retrieving the suits had made his original idea a lot more viable...or at least would enable a operator to survive a hose rupture without being scaled to death...so he looked at the gauges and gave some thought to how to convert it into a makeshift weapon against the bizarre creatures that inhabited this place....until he was distracted by the sound of Corrine's raised voice.

"Ya can't have Avery.", she said. After a pause, she then spoke again, irritation in her voice. "Well, ain't I right?!"

Concerned, Steve then began to gravitate towards the Hull, as he heard both Jamses shout questions, apparently at someone outside the walls. Making his way through the crowd, he reached Corrine's side just in time to see several Cultists move up and place what was obviously a crude wooden coffin on the ground next to what appeared to be one of the cultist leaders.

"Avery," The cultist said solemnly, gesturing at the coffin, "She belongs with her family."

Slowly it dawned on him that the cultists wanted to exchange the real Avery's body with the synth they..he...had shot. Steve didn't know Corrine well enough yet to read her easily...but he suspected that she was stricken right now.

"Corrine", Steve said gently as he placed a hand on her back in an attempt to comfort her, "What do you want to do?"

War Never Changes

Highway 3 Bridge

Thank you Knight," Robert replied, and returned the soldiers handshake, "Glad to meet you. I can't say I know where we're going, so I'll leave it to uhh..the Knight-Captain here," He gestured towards the Assaultron, "To keep leading the way. I'll be glad to get across the river and leave this wretched town quickly."

"I've got to get back", Murphy replied, "Harkness will take care of you from here." The Assaultron's head swiveled to look at Harkness, he then added, "I need to create a distraction so Haddad can break contact....they've set fire to the barracks to try to smoke her out."

"I'll see to it", Harness replied, "Ad Victoriam, Brother!"

"Ad Victoriam". Murphy turned and jogged away, back towards the fighting. After a moment, he winked out of sight as the stealth field turned back on. Harkness issued orders through his suit radio for Delta squad to fall back across the bridge then he looked at Kyle. "Let's get you guys to the evac point. From the look on your face, Brother, you've got a lot of questions....and knowing Murph he probably didn't answer very many. Kyle immediately began asking question...Harkness listened patiently to the first as they walked back across the bridge.

"Our mission", Harkness asked, "It's a deep raid...the real fighting is down at Indianapolis. Fort Wayne is the main base for the Cult in the Indiana Wasteland, we're here to degrade their ability to reinforce Indy..to that end we're destroying all of the bridges across the Wabash but one. That will keep them fixed here until we've secured Indianapolis and can turn our full attention to Fort Wayne. The advance on Pittsburgh cannot truly begin until Ft Wayne has been Scourged."

Kyle then asked the next question.

"The Cult?", Harkness asked, "Sick fucks. They are based in Pittsburgh, though apparently they came from out East originally. They are basically what you get when you cross Raiders with a religious cult. Slaving, murder, cannibalism...you name it, they do it for fun. Not only to anyone they come across, but even to each other if they are deemed weak. What's worse is that they're growing both in power and numbers. They are a threat to civilization...any civilization..and the Lord Paladin has decreed that Pittsburgh be Scourged, and all followers of the Cult be put to the sword. Thankfully, folks out West are starting to see things our way. When you get back to base, they'll tell you a lot more than you will want to know about them.

Then came the next question, and it was the one Harkness knew he'd get eventually.

"Hmmm", Harkness said thoughtfully as he stepped over the corpse of a Raider...as they approached the center of the bridge more and more bodies, all Raiders, were strewn about....considering what he should say. "That's a good question....i'll answer what I can."

"Murphy is who he says he is", Harkness said. "He's a man, not a AI...not exactly, anyway...I guess the closest term I can think of is a cyborg. His situation is not unlike that of the Lord-Paladin himself...he was installed into the Calculator so that he could guide and control it." Harkness noticed Kyle was looking at him blankly.

"The Calculator? Surely you've heard of it?". He shook his head as Kyle indicated he had not. "I shouldn't be surprised...the Western Elders probably suppressed the reports Barnaky sent them about our War with the Calculator, if they even bothered to read them. If they didn't tell Lyons before he came East, they were small-minded fools indeed." He drew a deep breath and continued. "The Calculator was, and is, a Pre-War AI built to oversee Vault 0, which was designed by Vault-Tec and the US Government to oversee what they called the "Societal Preservation Program". Vault 0 was intended to house the pre-war intellectual elite in cryogenic suspension to ride out the war. Once conditions stabilized, The Calculator would wake them up, and together with the robot Army the Calculator commanded, would go out and rebuild America. Well, it worked about as well as you'd expect. Most everyone in the tubes died or suffered irreversible brain damage...due to shoddy manufacturing and failure to implement the designed backups...and without human oversight, or maybe just company, the Calculator went mad and decided it's mission was to wipe out humanity. Our ancestors fell right into the middle of it when we crashed outside Chicago....before you knew it we were fighting for our very lives. Eventually, we won...a Elite Squad broke into Vault 0 and disabled the factory making the robots and fought it's way to the Calculator itself. But then we were faced with a awful choice. Either destroy the Calculator, and lose it's store house of Pre-War scientific and technological data, not to mention the robots, forever, or install one of our own into the Calculator to take the place of of the human minds that had been intended to control it. Barnaky, the Lord-Paladin, chose to have his own brain installed into the Calculator. Together, they have ruled over our lands ever since. It hasn't been easy, and a lot of sacrifices have been made, but we're restored order and the Rule of Law to most of the Mid-West. We will not allow the Cult to undo everything we've achieved here."

(OOC) *Edit begins here*

Markle High School

In a third floor classroom, now a dormitory for Raiders, stiff and cooling in their bunks, their blood soaking the mattresses beneath them, a shimmering, indistinct figure leaned a gauss rifle against the wall and pried a board off one of the windows and looked outside. From the streets and parking lot, a storm of weapons fire and tracers lashed into the second floor, which the flames had already reached. A target spotted, the gauss rifle winked out of sight as it was picked up.

"Like shooting fish in a barrel", Haddad thought to herself with grim satisfaction as she took aim at the head of a Raider across the street, firing over the wreck of a Corvega blindly at the spot she had claimed her last victim from. These Raiders had no clue about how to deal with an opponent that knew what they were doing....she had killed twenty of them before they finally adapted the tactic of setting the building alight to burn her out. A sound tactic...at least against an opponent worried about burning to death...but merely an inconvenience for her. Her assignment was to keep the Raiders fixated on here here, and kill as many of them as possible while doing it. Survival of her avatar was merely optional. Even if they succeeded in disabling her avatar, she would be safe back in Kansas and all they would have is the opportunity to vent thier impotent rage against a broken robot. Haddad squeezed the trigger of her Gauss Rifle, and a bright flash lit up the room for an instant as the 2mm tungsten dart leapt from zero to Mach 7 in .001 seconds. The dart connected squarely with the side of the target's head, causing it to literally explode as the dart passed though and then into the right shoulder of the Raider to his left, erupting from just under his left armpit, then biting deep into the earth next to him. A third Raider to the left of the targets was showered in gore but unharmed as her companions, literally dead on thier feet, slumped to the ground just before the loud crack of the projectile reached them.

"Third floor!! Third Floor!", the Raider howled in fear and hatred as she turned and began to fire at the window the flash came from, spraying bullets from her rusty old R91 across the room indiscriminately, more Raiders joining in as they saw where the tracers were going. But it was too late, Haddad had already begin to move the moment after she took her shot, and the fusillade swept through a empty room, as she ducked down the smoky hallway towards the next firing point.

Outside

"You fucking asshole!", screamed Slade, beside himself with rage, as he stepped around the truck he had been taking cover behind and dumped another mag from his Chinese assault rifle into the third floor room the latest shot had come from, "When we catch you, we're gonna shove a pole up you ass and I'm gonna watch while the crows eat your eyes while you beg to be allowed to die!"

Slade didn't understand it, they had fired the building...after losing six soldiers in a futile attempt to storm it...but that Brotherhood bastard wasn't even trying to escape, just picking off soldiers one at a time with that cannon of his. With the building burning merrily, another assault was out of the question, all he could do is keep whoever it was penned up until either the fire did them in or they finally tried to make a run for it, and accept the steadily mounting losses. One thing was for sure, he wasn't about to let him escape after this...it was personal now.

Ducking behind the wreck to reload, a familiar shrill voice came from a cross street as a scrawny woman bearing a long staff emerged onto the street that ran in front of the barracks in the old High School. The flames from the burning building twisted her shadow in odd, and disturbing ways.

"The Missionary", Slade thought sourly, "what. the. fuck."

"I shall not fear, nor falter, for i know the place of us!", she said, stopping in the midlle of the street, facing him, waving her staff, "We are vermin, insects! Unworthy of his mere glare!"

"You.", Slade said angrily, "What the fuck do you want now, old woman?". He then added, get behind cover, or that Brotherhood shithead will take you out too."

"Beware, for he without enlightenment may fear his own demise, yet they who have seen, they who have witnessed know, that it does not matter..." Her words stopped, as she took in the madness unfolding around her. A laughter escaped her lips, as she threw away her stick, and spread out her hands, pointing on some of the fleeing raiders. "FOR WHAT FEAR DOES HE KNOW, WHO HAS NOT WITNESS THE MONOLITH IN ALL ITS GLORY! WHO HAS NOT SEEN WHAT PATHETIC BASE HAS HIS MERE EXSISTANCE..."

Slade opened his mouth to make a retort, but as his eyes made contact with hers, suddenly he could not think of what to say. After several seconds, which seemed like a eternity to him, his eyes widened with horror, as the final piece of the puzzle fell into place and he finally understood what was happening. Then rage...and purpose....filled him as he found his words once again.

"THE BRIDGE!", Slade bellowed, "This is just a diversion...they're going to blow the bridge!" He began to bellow out orders, grabbing a lieutenant and his set to keep the Brotherhood fanatic penned up while ordering the rest of his men to follow in the wake of the missionary, who was already striding towards the bridge.

Inside

"Are you seeing this, Command?", Haddad asked on the command net as she watched with astonishment as the ragged figure basically took charge of the Raider force with nary a peep of protest from their leader. "I've got a shot, should I take it?"

"Negative, Miriyam", Barnaky's voice came across the net, "Your Primary mission's accomplished. Let them go. Murphy, help Miryam deal with the stay-behinds then the two of you support Whitman and Price while they take a healthy piss in our friend's Sugar Bombs. Harkness, wait until they're on the bridge before you drop it." And then he added, "Son, if you can take that Cult freak alive, please do so."