Part 51: Great Bend, Part 2: Rumble In The Rusty Jungle

Would be easier if vehicles entered the mission with you, but that would only complicate the level design and, in some open leaves, would turn the game into Carmageddon.

I have this beef with most fallout games that starting with Heavy Guns or Energy is really impractical, since that's endgame shit.

Post 51: Great Bend, pt. 2: Rumble In The Rusty Jungle



The dust from the explosion finally settled on Flashman's armor, more than likely getting into various hard to reach places. With a flick of the wrist, he ordered Mandy forward into the gap.



Rusted cars and miscellaneous junk rose from all sides as Mandy made her way forward. Making sure not to step in any puddles, she rounded a corner. Sure as no rain, there were two robots patrolling the junk yard. How did they get in past the barricade? Did they build it? Why would the robots barricade themselves from other robots?

Those walking junkpiles never made sense, and Mandy didn't like it. Raiders, now those guys were good, predictable fightin'. They we susceptible to 7.62mm, too, which was even better.



Ice, laser rifle at the ready, followed Mandy, hiding behind a pile of decaying tires. She steadied her rifle on the pile, tracking the two robots.

Mandy as doing the same, as evidenced by silent “pew pew” sounds coming from her direction.



Take that, you stupid machine!

Flashman and Toni were to follow Mandy, but they ran into a robot on their flank. Barrels whirled and bullets bounced off the robot’s steely hide, creating a merry rain of sparks to boot.
Yet this was stilll better progress than Flashman was making with the BAR. The old ammo used in the gun didn't leave an impression on the robot.
However, Flashman was utmost surprised at his inability to handle the damn thing. His line of thought was that it's a heavy, vaguely machine-gun shaped gun, and it should handle as such; however, the BAR was jumping in his hands like a wild animal, entirely unwilling to land a good hit on the metal foe.



With a heavy heart, he broke out the M2 with the few remaining links in the belt. The heavy machinegun was much more suited for the task, and the large rounds left a few gruesome marks on the metal man. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough.



Frustrated, Flashman jumped his cover - no mean feat in Power Armor - and punched the robot, again and again. Buffout fueled muscles and synthetic fiber bundles drove the armor plated fists against the chassis of the robot. However, the steel hide of the robot was much stronger than anything Flashman had punched previously. Supermutants were big, and bulging with muscles, and power fist, leaving deep gouges with every blow, still took time to whittle them down. The robot was much hardier, and Flashman only had blunt fists, no crackling energy fields to aid him.



The robot was far luckier. One bullet bounced of the alien profile of the power armor helmet at just the right angle to send Flashman's head ringing.

Slumping to his knees, he remembered. The first time he went into the ring. So young, full of piss and vinegar. His opponent had been an old caravan hand. And he sent Flashman lying with one swift blow.

It seemed a lifetime ago...



Flashman came to with the familiar rattle of German minigun ringing overhead. Toni had run to the rescue, showering the robot with rounds, again.



Some of the bullets probably found the breaches made by M2, for the robot convulsed and the upper torso exploded, sending a drizzle of flaming oil over Flashman. Slowly, he lifted himself, the armor obligingly enhancing his weakened moves. As he stood up, he patted out a bit of flaming pouldron, and nodded in thanks.

Ice was still keeping her eye on the patroling robots.
In trained hands, the laser rifle rarely misses its mark, and Ice was more than apt in its use. Somehow, no one in the brotherhood ever questioned her energy weapons expertise, which suited her perfectly.



Hand me that, will ya!

A regular MG firing regular rounds wouldn't really cut it against robots, but Flashman had little choice in the matter. As he wrapped his fingers around grip of a M249, he remembered his fists hitting the robot in vain, and the BAR jumping wild in his grip. As someone in Power Armor, he was an undeniably important asset to the squad, and he couldn't sit out all the shooting.

So as Ice alternated between sending laser bolts down range and ducking in cover when stuff came flying back, Flashman got into position, ready to charge the robots.



Ordering Ice to cease fire, Flashman leaped into the fray. Mantling a pile of rubble, he found a robot already melted down by Ice's fire. Another one was limping away nearby, so Flashman dropped down, and opened fire.

The robot still had some fight in it, so a firefight lasted for some time. It was becoming apparent to Flashman that Power Armor and robot chasis had about equal levels of defense - unfortunately, the robot didn't have fleshy parts to protect. And the internal mechanisms had to have redundancies, loose tolerances or at least powerful repair routines. Truly a wonder of pre-War machinery.



And as Stitch bent down to treat his wounds - Power Armor stopped the bullets, but you still had blunt trauma to take care of - Flashman wondered about the possibilities of having the robots on Brotherhood's beck-and-call. Having one going along with fresh recruits would probably cut down the casualties. Having robots running support would probably free up soldiers to close in and maneuver. And probably the best use would be to just throw the robots in the spearhead - nobody cares when a tin man bites the dust, anyways, and they would cut through raiders and other riffraff without much difficulty

Hopefully, that will be a possibility, one day.

Right, bossman, I&I fixed you up.



Up and about, Flashman quickly came under fire from the back. There was a robot armed with a plasma pistol: dangerous as a general self-defense weapon against bandits and thugs (so, raiders), but not that much against Power Armor, which just dissipated the heat.

Oy, now that's annoying!

And he added to himself.

That's probably how the Tin-Cans feel when we shoot them...

Apparently, the robot had been given the pistol in recognition of its faulty assembly or corrosion or whatever other structural instabilities, it didn’t take half of the squad or 7,62mm in triple numbers to take it down.



Another one!

Flashman found one more of those plasma pistol robots. Huddling in a cornert, firing away with its dinky pistol, it looked like the machine knew that it wouldn't last in a fight.

Putting it out of its misery was the highpoint of the fight in the junkyard.



Left or right?

Well, lass, the fork to the right goes back to the street, and we are like to go there anyway. That would leave the corner to the left on our flank or back, which is not good at all. So, by George, we will take the left and then wheel to the right!



Ice noded in silent agreement - Flashman would have liked her say something like "roger that" or "sir, yes, sir" but that never stuck - and sneaked away, keeping her head down. She got even more careful as she reached the pin turn. Carefully placing one foot before the other, she held close to the rusting truck cab, vary of any piece of scrap that would betray her position.

Carefully, she peered around the corner of the cab, staring into the darkness. There was little light, as the ubiquitous burning barrels were seemingly absent from this corner of the scrap yard. Ice strained her eyes and was rewarded with movement. Yes, a robot was watching the area, turning his squat head to-and-fro.

Ice went to ground slowly and carefully, bringing up her plasma rifle. A plasma bolt struck the robot in the back, alerting it.



The robot turned on the spot, only to catch a plasma bolt to the side of the head. The lucky shot overloaded its sensors, destabilized the gyroscope and caused a system crash. There was a thud and a crash when the 'bot fell down.



And while Ice was pumping plasma into the fallen robot...

Uh, boss, I remembered something...

A box of M2 food. Flashman didn't say anything, Toni already seemed ashamed of herself, so he just took the ammo and thanked her.

Only a super-mutant could forget carrying an ammo box heavy enough to bend a supply slave to the ground.



Ha-ha, how do you like THIS?!

Previously, it was Psycho and Buffout that had caused his sense of invincibility. Now, it was a fully loaded M2. Confident in both armor and his own natural resilience (66% bodymass in scar tissue), Flashman rushed the positions of the robot in the corner of the junkyard.

Frontal assaults against the enemy are foolish, ones against an entrenched enemy doubly so. This didn't stop the fearless leader from getting close enough to the robot to whack him on the head with the M2. And as the metallic monstrosity went down, Flashman opened fire.

You cannae kick 'em while they're down in the ring. Nothing about not shooting fallen robots!



Pumped up over shooting a robot without spending 15 minutes and 300 rounds of 7.62mm, Flashman sprinted back to the right branch. A hulking metal beast clanking in the night startled Ice, but her trained reflexes saved Flashman from getting splashed with plasma.

Fuck.

Yet even that solitary curse, so atypical to Ice, went unnoticed as Flashman had already cleared a turn and was merrily stomping down the tunnel between mounds of junk, provoking robots with his boldness.

Soon enough, one of them took the challenge, rising from behind a pile of crates, forcing Flashman to skid to a halt.



The robot was lucky in knocking the wind out of Flashman. But the intrepid lead had already fired a burst that mauled the robot's guts, cracked the power source and detonated the torso.



Cease and sekkle, bossman! I'n'I will do ya good!

Stitch had some mechanical knowledge in addition to his medical skills. But they rarely ever took their cars afield - the APC was parked some ways from the town - so he usually patched up team members. More often than not, that meant Flashman.



Patched and good to go (by Brotherhood field medicine standards), Flashman rushed off to investigate a side a route - maybe there's another way to the gate - but he found something...

What a waste...

It was hard to tell who the body had belonged to, it was badly burned, bruised and even gnawed on. But it was obvious that someone had made a living in this corner of the junkyard. There were some seats facing the fire, and a broken shelf with shiny baubles, all of them clean from the pervasive grime.



There was an another fire place, this one surrounded by makeshift shelves stacked with various kitchen utensils and mechanical tools. There was a fridge stocked with mutated fruit, and a generator that was halfway disassembled - the scrap yard likely had parts needed to fix it.
A tiny bit of life, destroyed by the rampaging robots.



Holding back the solitary tear, Flashman walked out, passed Stitch - who was still keeping his head down, hiding behind some junk - and went for the last unexplored corner of the junkyard. Fire in the barrel cast shadows everywhere, yet the eye caught a distant flash of reflection. Presenting the M2 before him, Flashman marched towards the glimmer in the dark. At the edge of the junkyard, he could make out another robot in the dark. It spun in place to face the squad leader, and even managed to squeeze off a shot. It bounced off the armor, and Flashman barely noticed it. He aimed and he fired, not even flinching. The robot just collapsed into pieces.



Flashman walked back into the now-silent junkyard. The robots had all been dismantled, and nothing but the Brotherhood warriors remained.

To his right, a dying fire illuminated the body of another civilian.

Well, you lot, clean this place up, we’re moving forward.

Next post: Great Bend, pt. 3: Will it end?