Chapter Text
Red warning lights blink in your peripheral. The sound of alarms mixing with the ringing in your ears as you shake off the remainder of the blast and take stock of your situation. The main lights have gone out, leaving nothing but the flickering emergency lights that line the hallway. As you stand, your power armor stutters and jolts. It would certainly explain the alerts splattered across the UI. It looks like more isn't working than is, but you can't do anything if you can't see anything. Clearing some of the alerts and dust from your visor, you see that your team was caught in an explosive trap, and you're just hoping everyone's luck holds out today. The power armor closest to you shifts and groans as the person inside comes back to their senses.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Grandma. Good to see you haven’t kicked the bucket yet." You say as you hold out a hand to help him up. He grabs your hand and heaves himself to his feet.
"How many times have I told you not to call me that, Lieutenant…?" He scowls. “Keep it up, and you’ll be scrubbing barnacles from the underdocks.” He looks down the hallway, presumably where you both had just come from, toward the epicenter of the blast that is still ringing in your ears and clouding your vision. There laying amongst the rubble lay two piles of metal, wires, and very clear, very fresh, and very charred human remains. “Look alive. May be a terrorist.” He says, pausing to bow his head slightly in respect for those recently parted. Barbara Collens and Joey Cooper. They were the remainder of your crew, sent out to find the intruders on the Rig. You’ve known in this profession losing lives and lifelong friends is always a possibility and despite having lost others in the past, the pain is always new and raw. A breath catches in your chest, but there is no use crying over what has already happened when there are still more people at risk the longer you wait.
“Well, let's hope our luck continues to hold out.” you finally manage to push out. It's clear that whoever is here has had more than enough time to set up shop. “Let's keep moving. The more time we spend here, the more time they have to set up these little surprises.” Turning away from the mess your enemy has left behind you are grateful that you can't really smell anything inside the suit. If you had to smell burnt flesh along with seeing them, knowing they were gone, you don't know if you would be able to carry on. Taking a step forward and throwing Headache over your shoulder you can hear the creaks and grinds of your power armor as it struggles to keep moving. However, not even a couple feet into your trek down the hallway and the legs shutter to a stop completely locking up. “Of course this thing goes down now. Stupid piece of junk.” you grumble as you start the process of manually ejecting yourself as you add ‘busted fusion cores’ to the problems of the day.
“Are you going to be able to keep up without your armor, Lieutenant?” Granite asks as you finally manage to pull yourself down and out of the broken machine. Circling to the front of your armor, you consider the grip it has on your hammer and how difficult it might be to break it in its current condition.
“Of course I will, Granny.” you huff, slightly offended, as you grab the handle of Headache and start twisting it down towards the floor. The armor lets out a screech as the hand twists and snaps off at the wrist. With a flourish, you twirl the hammer and throw it over your shoulder smirking, “After all, I’m in much better shape than you.” You chuckle as Granite doesn’t give a response and gives you a rather unimpressed, disgruntled look. You look down the handle and notice the hand from the armor is still gripping the hammer.
“You know I never have a problem keeping up. Hell, even the new recruits know I never have a problem keeping up.” One finger at a time you start loosening the hand. “You would have to be single digit IQ to think that I would make it this far and not keep up, and I know the Enclave doesn’t entertain a bunch of drooling finger sniffers.” With that, the hand finally comes free. In a minor fit of frustration with everything that has happened to this point, you decide to take your aggression out on the hand and chuck it down the darkened hallway.
Imagine your surprise, however, when the hand comes flying back.
The hand clatters to the floor and rolls to a stop at your feet. Blinking down at it, you and Granite ready your weapons and hold your breath for whatever comes from the shadows. It starts faint, but slowly you can see the glow of what is undeniably plasma weaponry. As it approaches its glow illuminates its wielder's face, showing a muscular man in a hollowed out T-51 helmet, a tiny loincloth, almost too small to cover anything and be modest and tribal necklaces.
“The Chosen One…” Granite growls out, leveling his weapon at the figure as the man raises his own. It's at this time the intercoms that line the hallways crackle to life.
“ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL. FADED GIANT IS NOW IN EFFECT. FALL BACK TO FORT NAVARRO. I REPEAT. EVACUATION ORDER HAS BEEN SET. FALL BACK TO FORT NAVARRO.”
“Damn it!” Granite shouts and fires his plasma caster at the figure. The man sidesteps the shot and continues down the hallway. “Lieutenant, go, help with the evacuation!” You hesitate as you see the Chosen One slowly load his plasma rifle. “Go now!”
“”Ah- Yes, Sir!” you take a half skip backwards, before taking off down the hallway and dodging the remains of your team. You half expect to hear the sound of metal boots clanging behind you, but you hear nothing but your own breath and heartbeat. As you pass by the bodies of your crew and friends you stop for a split second considering if you should bring them with you, but deciding it would be too cumbersome and slow, you grab up their holo tags and continue on.
As you climb the stairs and make it to the helipad, the sounds of the blades drown out all other noises. A Captain is corralling people and barking orders to members scrambling to the Vertibirds. He notices you and he holds out a hand to stop you as you approach. “Where is your armor and the rest of your crew, Lieutenant?”
“Down the west wing.” you pant “Power armor is busted. Collens and Cooper are dead. Explosive trap. Morgan is MIA. Granite is holding off some mutie. He should be here soon.”
“We don’t have time to wait for him. Join the ranks and help everyone load the Vertibirds. If he gets here, he comes. If not he gets left behind.” You grit your teeth at the thought of leaving your leader behind but you steel yourself and get to work.
Minutes pass and people and cargo are loaded into the birds. You anxiously watch the stairwell, hoping to see or hear any sign of Granite. It's not long before everyone is loaded and most of the verts have taken off. It's now just you, the Captain, and the last Vertibird.
“Lieutenant, get in the Bird.” The captain is sitting in the pilot's seat ready for take off, glaring down at you.
“Granite isn’t here yet.” you say, grasping the handle to board, but feet still firmly planted on the ground. You're hoping he will make a last minute appearance, or at the very least be able to hear something over the sound of the blades to justify waiting just a moment longer.
“Last warning. Get on or get left behind.”
“I’m not leaving the LTC behind!” you shout over the chopper and let go of the handle, backing away, giving the Vertibird space to take off. The captain sneers down at you and scoffs.
“Fine then. Die on this piece of junk. We’ll remember you and the Tin Star Tyrant when you’re nothing more than specks of dust over the Pacific.” And with that the bird shutters and takes off the helipad.
Your hair whips in your face as you watch it ascend. Once it's gotten a decent distance away you turn around and run through the door, down the stairs, and back into the inner workings of the Rig. The alarms have gotten louder since you left with the intercoms just repeating, “EVACUATE.” The speakers crackle as you walk past them with some shorting out. Rounding the corner, you hear the sound of footsteps, one metal and one barefoot, before coming face to face with Granites power armor. Stepping back and away quickly you manage to catch a glimpse of the other man taking off down the opposite direction down the hallway.
“Hey!” you shout, trying to step around Granite to go after the Chosen One yourself, only to be stopped by a metal arm. “Granite, he’s getting away!”
“Leave it.” Granite says as he pushes you away.
Suddenly the lights change from the yellow emergency lights to red, the alarms blare and the intercom changes its message from “EVACUATE” to “SELF DESTRUCTION IMMINENT. T MINUS TEN MINUTES.”
You look at Granite wide eyed and without a word you both take off to the underdocks. The hallways are empty of anything living, and short of dodging the dead, your trip was uneventful. Getting to the docks, you are thankful that there are still boats left. Silently you both climb in and start the engines. The boat starts roughly and you pull out away from the Rig as quickly as you can. Off in the distance you can see the Chosen One’s freighter leaving the Rig. The alarms are loud enough that you can hear them from as far away as you are. Mentally you are still counting down the minutes to self destruction.
Four minutes.
Two minutes.
Thirty seconds.
Ten seconds.
“Cover your eyes Lieutenant.”
The world goes from pitch black to erupting in blinding brilliance. The bright flash of light sears your vision and leaves you blinking despite averting your eyes. You can feel the shock waves slamming against your body and the boat threatening to overturn. The sound of the explosion is deafening, almost enough to completely blow out your eardrums. Flames reach high into the sky, the mushroom cloud reminiscent of the ones you only heard about when learning of the war that landed all of humanity in this position. The oppressive heat, more oppressive than the desert at the height of noon, makes it almost difficult to breathe.
Just as quickly as it started, it was over. The silence rings almost louder than the explosion you just witnessed. The ocean, still stirred up from the shockwaves, slams into and buffets your boat as you struggle to keep it from tipping.
“What the hell was that?!” you say rounding on Granite, “Why the hell did the Rig have to be NUKED?! What happened with that goddamn mutie?! Just… Why….?” Granite takes off the helmet to his power armor and runs a hand through his hair before pulling out a pack of cigarettes, putting one to his lips, lighting it, and taking a big deep drag before letting it out slowly. He considers you for another second.
“I’ll explain it to you in a bit, Lieutenant.” Granite takes another long drag of his cigarette.
“Why not now? We have time.” Granite tips the box over so you can see it and kind of shakes it around.
“Does this look empty to you yet?”
You decide it is better to wait until he is ready to tell you.