Part 53: Bunker Delta: Loaded For Robot BearIf you click "Random" on LPix.org, you'll find out that 98% of LPs are of JRPGs.
Post 53: Bunker Delta: Suit Up And Reload
Standing on an APC door step, Flashman was head above the entire squad, even Toni.
Alright, squad, what are our lesson learned from the last mission? Besides robots are bad, of course...
He raised one finger:
For example, I learned a thing or two about the value of not being in the way of incoming fire, armor be damned.
I can near damn dance in this thing, tho.
Flashman raised a second finger.
I'd also wager that I'm better at giving robots what for, aiming for weaker spots and such.
Stitch easily slid the doctor bag down his arm, till he holding the strap in his outstretched hand.
I'n'I is better wit the doc bag, mon, organizin' the tools and herbs 'n' such.
The insecticle slowly turned towards Mandy, golden eyes gleaming.
The diminutive sniper did a small tug on a punch on her hip.
First aid. Stitch can't always be there fast enough, and death lurks at every corner. Added some of that tribal powder to my medpacks, too.
The next speaker didn't wait to mentioned. Stein patted his gun:
Same as you, boss. See a robot, aim for the thinner parts. Of course, enough fire will thin down any part.
Ice looked at him with the sort of detached contempt that barely registered certainly it was too subtle for the young gunner to see.
The sniper rifle isn't effective anymore...
...so I've been applying the same knowledge to the laser rifle. I had to unlearn compensating for drop, as lasers fly straight before dissipating. Same goes for plasma.
Toni sees future in big guns!
It shook the minigun like it was no bigger than a BB gun.
Big guns that shoot lasers! Get me one, boss!
As soon as the quartermaster can be arsed to get us one.
Now, before I go haggling over ammo and armor, we've been luggin' aroud some books. Time for you to get aquainted with them.
Ice, see if there's any useful stuff about the great outdoors in this book.
You also get this cooky book on drivin'. I don't know where you got your training and with what vehicle, but more academic knowledge wouldn't hurt.
Flashman handed Stitch two hefty bundles of books.
Stitch, see if there's anything about robots, advanced electronics and other thingamajigs.
Cheer up, kid, this magazine might have something for you about rifles and SMGs. Brush up on them, and show Ice that there's still hope for sniper rifles.
And some more first aid information. I'm sure this one has more intact pages than the last one we found.
Loaded for bear, I see?
Team leader took an another glance at the ammo arrayed around a shiny new-ish suit of power armor.
You can say that the robots are the biggest bear there is. I home you'll have more BMG the next time.
I'm curious why would you need the tank shells.
I'm curious why you would have them.
Bleeding me dry, here.
Never the less, solid slug shotgun ammo was an important investment. Stitch didn't look himself when he saw buckshot flatten and bounce against the robots. He was so used to turning tangos into ground meat, it was quite a shock.
The infirmary had nothing new to offer. Besides, serious pilfering and looting had left the team loaded with meds and drugs.
Ker ain't here, I wonder where the old creep has gone...
I do try, soldier. Stay alive, and you might do the same.
And he leaned in, whispering:
And don't try punching robots.
This new blood reminds me of someone, can't put a finger on it... I'll pass, the team is full anyways.
In absence of danger or action, the guards had apparently reverted to childhood games. As to how one catches the nose of a guy in power armor, that remained a mystery.
The briefing room was empty save for an elder and a scribe arguing about logistic chains, drawing and redrawing colored arrows on a holographic map. The general waited, a thoughtful frown on his face.
A anti-robot energy weapon? By God will Ice be glad to hear this. We'll move out right away. Newton's a way off, so it seems.
It was obvious without even saying that the campaign weighted heavily on general Decker's mind.
Almost as much as hatred of country music weighted the heart of the Power Armored Guard (nobody ever knew their names, so they were usually called Enviro and Powa).
Alright, you lot, saddle up, we're gonna rescue some Reaver elders.
Now why would we do that?
Big guns. New recruits. Can't be stranger than deathclaws or supermutants.
The squad took time to hand out ammo from the abuntant reserves still present on the APC. Flashman wondered how long would it be before 7.62 ran out completely. It wasn't a pleasant thought.
That done, the crew set out in their APC.
Vehicle, halt. We dismount and approach on foot.
A few tribals were camping in out what could be called of defensive position squeezed in between a truck wreck and a small, dry forest. They looked armed and bits of conversation could be heard floating in the wind.
Suddenly, the group spotted Flashman. Cries of Red! It's a Cantanadian! Kill him! Better dead than maple! rang out and Flashman heard rather than felt fire hitting his armor. Reflexively, he hosed down the camp with the minigun, twice.
Only midsweep, with the hail of bullets turning tribals into red mist did Flashman manage to think I'm tough enough to disarm them.
It was too little, too late.
The foolhardy defenders against Canadian invasion were dead.
A voice came over the radio:
I'm gonna check their bodies, see if there's anything useful. Hold position, I don't want anyone nicking our ride.
The plastic on the watergun was a little faded, but still held. All in all, the gun was heavier than it looked. A drop fell from the muzzle and sizzled on Flashman's armored boot.
What kind of loony comes up with shit like this?
The last of the bodies had been overturned and checked.
Didn't stand a chance.
How are they even alive, this deep in robot land?
The incident had happened about halfway to Newton and the next few days were spend discussing desert tribals and crazy old world conspiracies or their remains.
Everyone agreed that the communist, whatever it had been, was now but a boogeyman.
All right, you lot!
General Decker wants us to do a sweep of Newton, find the Reaver VIPs, and extract them. They have a new weapon of tactical and strategic importance, and finding it is our secondary objective.
Be careful of blue-on-blue fire on any remaining Reavers they're slightly smaller than bots, so it shouldn't be hard.
And be on the lookout for robots who knows what kind of new bullshit they'll throw at us.
Flashman noticed that Stitch had broken off to peer around a corner.
Stitch, can I have you back in formation?
Aye, bossman, you wanna put 'n eye on dis!
What in God's name...
Next time: Newton Sweep and clear!
Public transport is doing wonders for updates!