Part 54: Newton, Part 1: Lonely In Newton

Wheel Of Time and copywriting aren't helping my style the least.

Post 54: Newton, pt. 1: Hot Times in Newton



The tank was old and in a state of disrepair. Luckily, it was a relatively simple design, almost pre-electronic, even, and Stitch had as much knowledge in blacksmithing as in electric repairs. The toolkits were simply magical, though they relied a great deal on various consumable pastes and whatsits.



The tank is pretty banged up. If anyone has a toolkit, I'll take it to Stitch. The rest of you stay here, hold the perimeter.



Flashman approached the tank that was looking more and more streetworthy.

Everything alright?

He dropped a kit at Stitch's feet.

Eye, bossman, she be shiny 'n' chrome in no time!



I'll take it as a yes

The power armor whirred gently as he turned around

I'll go secure the area, starting with that building over there.



Those reavers sure like living in pens, so it seems

Various fences and walls criss-crossed the streets for no apparent reason. They had the signs of careful work put in their construction and the wear and tear of many years, indicating that those weren't barricades hastily erected for the robot threat.



Minigun level, Flashman entered the smelter.

Flashman,jpg Bullocks to this, contact!

He showered the nearest robot to his right with fire, and ducked back out as laser blasts started searing his armor.



Flashman fished out a hypo packet from a bag on his side, put the needle in his vein and pressed a button; let Psycho lead him to land were pain was a weakness of the enemy and fist reigned supreme.

Guess I'll have to do it...



...the old fashioned way.

He gulped down a Buffout pill. The fact that the pills had no expiration date troubled him, but only a little. He could already feel the warmth of Psycho running in his veins as he slid the power fist on. The power field activated with a satisfying crackle.



Flashman entered the smelter through the back exit immediately noticing an another robot squatting behind some sandbangs, minigun in hands.



Buffout and Psycho only offered one solution: “charge!” The robot had almost no time to react to the juiced-up berserker charging him. Flashman's fists were like pistons turbo-charged by the heady mix of his favorite drugs. This time, the chassis buckled and bent, and parts of the torso were torn off.



Flashman didn't even wait for the robot to fall before turning on the spot and charging his laser-armed comrade. The fallen bot detonated and the shrapnel was like a light rain on Flashman's back. He was on the sniper bot so fast the machine still remained prone.

Flashman tried to keep it down with a wild flurry of punches and kicks, but the pre-war engineering was good, extremely good, and the machine rose to its feet.



Flashman didn't even understand what happened or what hit him, only that he felt his limbs going nub. He barely managed to yell “help!” as he fell to floor.

Hearing the plea, Stitch checked his Pancor Jackhammer and rushed in, hoping that his power armor will carry him through.



As he entered the smelter, he saw a battered robot trying to cook Flashman inside his armor with a concentrated laser beam. Either through damage or concentration, the robot didn't notice him approach.

Stitch fired a whole drum of slugs dry and the robot was no more.



Thanks. For a moment there, I thought my goose was cooked.

No problem, bossman.

Stitch was actually concentrating on the medical readouts that power armor so helpfully provided, and feeding it burn medicine, skin sprays and stimpacks.



Restored back to functionality, Flashman went to check the minigun robot. The machine had enough 7.62mm to last a lifetime (or about three robot encounters), a toolkit that the tank was bound to appreciate and even some .50 cal! What luck!



Exhibiting brashness typical to Flashman and people who run on Psycho and Buffout both, team leader went on to check the second floor.



The second floor was small, dominated by piles of junk, with a small workshop area in the corner. A work bench there held a curious combination of ammo, explosives and medicine.

I don't think I want to know what they were planning here.



Downstairs, Ice had wandered about to check a reaver corpse splayed out in a breach in the wall. He didn't have anything worthwhile – probably a civilian, if such existed in reaver society, caught up in the attack.



The window was grimy, but Flashman still noticed the gold-and-brown of a robot lurking in ambush. Sending for Ice, he promptly charged the machine.



This robot was quicker on its feet, but Flashman still managed to land a few good hits before it could react.



Robot.jpg Target must be eliminated.

Oh shut yer gob!

This time, Flashman aimed specifically for the head with hopes of knocking the machine out.



GET DOWN!

Flashman ducked, bringing the robot's laser rifle down with him. A split second later, Ice fired, hitting the automaton square in the chest, leading to an another messy detonation.

Target do... what the?!



Flashman only realized what was happening only after the last of the scurrying robots was dead. He was more surprised by Ice's expletives that ambushing bug bots, the fight was so fast. The robots, no bigger than a dog, would be deadly against civilians and similarly unarmored combatants like Ice. They barely made a scratch against power armor. This, this meant that scouting was getting even more dangerous by those of team actually trained in stealth.



Ice, get on the roof of the shack, see if you can spot anything.

Carefully, she climbed up the ladder. Fortunately, the roof over the second floor shack was free from robots, bug or any other kind.

However, she did notice a security bot wandering about at street level and immediately opened fire.



Simple as it was in thinking, the robot nevertheless floated towards the source of fire, and into the smelter.

It startled Toni, but only a little, and the supermutant greeted it with bullets.



Ice, what's the situation?

Engaging a security bot. No incoming fire.

Probably doesn't have a gun, then. Carry on.



With recent lessons in reconnaissance and scurrying little robots, Flashman opted to try out the covered walkway himself. Stein, armored covered in pilfered 7.62, stayed on the roof to provide covering fire.

So far so good

He reached the corrugated sheet door and found it unlocked.



I'm going in.

To his right, the corridor took a sharp turn to the left. Piles of decaying boxes and crates slumped in the shadows.

To his left, the corridor went straight, dark but for whatever light filtered in through a hole in the wall in the far end. A non-functioning display hung on the wall, covered in devotional texts that circled a small shrine of technological bits and bobs. Flashman went left.

Jumping out of the shadows, the bug robots swarmed around his legs. Flashman had to kick them away before punching them dead. He found a particular joy in crushing their stubby, triangular legs undefoot and punching straight through the middle of their oval bodies.



The robots were guarding a door to a connected series of offices. Those were musty and trashed, and only an unlocked safe held any treasure.



A dismembered reaver lied in the middle office, its primitive armor banding a blood stained parody of Flashman's own power armor.

The last office had a head of a great beast mounted on the wall. Dry skin covered a short, stubby snout and a great horn rose from the tip of it.

Man, that's some fucked up mutant deathclaw!



Stepping through the door in the middle office, he was immediately beset by two robots, one with a laser rifle and the other with a minigun.

Having learned a harsh lesson about priorities back in the smelter, Flashman charge the laser-armed bot first.



This time, hitting the metal head worked marvelously and the robot fell down twitching, all but out of the fight. Flashman considered it his greatest knockout in fight, even greater than that one time when he punched the lights out of a caravan brahmin in one blow.



With the laser robot pummeled into a heap of scrap metal, Flashman turned his attention to the minigun 'bot.



He wanted to test out the HEAT RPG rounds that they bought at the base. So with 7.62 flattening harmlessly on his armor (and actually adding to its thickness), Flashman calmly loaded one rocket into the tube, braced, and fired. He barely even felt the backblast, power armor was that great.



Either Chinese APCs and Canadian technicals were really badly constructed, or the robot was made from sturdier stuff, as the automaton managed to shrug off several rounds without much difficulty.

Flashman was finally convinced that the whole RPG thing is just a big quartermaster racket.



Five missiles in, the robot finally succumbed to internal and external damages.

Flashman walked over to confirm the kill, gave it a little kick, then tried the only door leading out. It was stuck.

Ice, get in here. I cleared the way and I need someone to pick a lock here.



While Ice was working her magic on the door, Flashman wandered off to check out an another room. The walls were lined with lousdspeakers, all in good quality. The floor, however, was crisscrossed with deep white scratches. Nail marks, by the look of it...

Door's jammed.

Flashman slowly rose from his crouch, scratch marks on his mind...

I'll check the other corridor, then.



The metal door lead to the same room, at least by Flashman's reckoning. It wasn't locked, and opened quite easily, with nary a creak.

He stepped inside, scanning the room for robots. Flashman immediately noticed a female reaver standing in the corner opposite of the door. He motioned her to be silent and went to check on a dead reaver near the other door.



The dead soldier must have used his last strength to close the door and jam them before he died. There was nothing worthy of looting on his body, just various nuts, bolts, strings and wires, and a devotional amulet fashioned out of a holodisc shard.

The live reaver was murmuring something to herself when Flashman approached her. She had a young face and stocky built, and almost no hair except for a pitch-black pony tail on the back. The reaver started speaking before Flashman could say anything.





Flashman, Paladin of the Brotherhood. My team is tasked with bringing you to safety.

<muttering> About bloody time someone showed some fucking gratitude.



I will follow your every order.

Good, uh, stay close. The way out should be clear, but you can never know.



Glenda nodded excitedly and raised her Steyr in the air to demonstratively cock it.

So, uh, elder...

Call me Glenda, my knight!

Uh, Glenda, do you have any combat skills I should know about?





I'm a medic first, and you'll find out that I'm a better lover than figher.

I mean, I'm a lover not a...

Ugh, I'll fight for you if you need me.

To fight, that is.

<whispered> And anything else.



Your armor...

Flashman motioned to Glenda's suit, which, like all reaver gear, was a mishmash of metal, straps, wraps and God-knows-what else.

It's my Reaver Banding. I can't tell you much else.

A mischevous smile crossed her face.

I'll let you take it off for better examination back at he base, though!



Flashman emerged from the covered walkway, Glenda in tow. Stein was idling on the roof, checking out the tank in the street.

Reaver nobility coming throught, make way!





I, uh, will be awaiting our next meeting.

Leaving the reaver medic swooning and blushing at the extraction zone, he briskly walked off.

What is it with her and my beauty? I didn't even take off my helmet.

Flashman chuckled.

Maybe that's the secret: I'm the closest any of these techfreaks can get to fucking a robot!

Tune in next time for more robot punching and less reaver swooning action. Maybe I'll rediscover the secret to writing like fleshbag instead of a Belorussian spy android