Down in Mexico- IC

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welsh

welsh

Junkmaster
OCC- Ok, here's the new thread. I am looking for managers. If no one steps up and runs this, it might die out.

Rules- write well, keep it in third person, don't be a dick (or give the managers to much trouble).

And yes, this is how First Mission started.

IC-
Major Max looked over the ruins of the city that used to be called the Hub. Once a new center of commerce, the city had been leveled yet again. Yet, the sacrifice had paid off. The Mutants had been turned. But the cost had been tremendous.

He looked over the few scattered BOS soldiers, weary veterans of battles against the Mutant onslaught. But few, terribly few. The BOS had also paid a heavy price.

Now they would need new men, mercenaries, volunteers, adventurers. Those looking for adventure or perhaps just a little pay-back.

His mission was simple. The Mutants were regrouping and growing stronger. If they were allowed to come back, they would win. His job was not to let that happen.

Lead a group south, to the enemy, into the territory of the renewed Mutant threat. Destroy their installations and the mutant ability to "dip".

Probably a one way trip for those interested in joining.

Now he had to find volunteers.
 
OC- Yes, I know it's rehashed stuff. But I liked how that roleplay started.

IC-
Max surveyed the grounds. It had been a mighty battle.

The Hub had been lost, retaken, lost again. Like a brahma bone fought over by dogs. They had snatched it away from each other, and chewed it up till there was nothing left worth saving.

The battle had flowed for days like that, the city captured and retaken.

There were still firefights going on, flashes of burn that hadn't quite died.

Mutants retreating now. Maybe reforming, maybe making another counter attack.

For what? The Hub was dead.

It was like a fire drawing flies to their own doom, in appeal mysterious yet unquenchable.

A crowd of battle scared veterans had gathered about the BOS soldiers.

They were hungry and wanted vengence. Their town was in ruins, their friends and family destroyed. They were angry and wanted pay-back.

He was there to give it to them.

"I'm Major Max with the Brotherhood. Normally we don't take mercenary dogs, but these are desperate times. We're going south, to take the war to the Mutants, to find their bases, and destroy them. "

"There aren't a lot of us, and we ain't paying much. Most of you will die. But those who survive can capture what loot they can and profit. That's the deal."

It wasn't much of a deal, but Max had little time for gentle diplomacy.

"One thing. " He added. "There are people down there. People like you and me, and they're getting dipped and turned into those fucking greenskin bastards."

"When there are enough of them, those mutant fucks are going to come back here and kill or dip the rest of us. So we go there and kill them, or we wait, and they come to kill us."
 
Dash saw the numerous dead being hauled off and loaded into brahmin-driven meat wagons. His shoulder tired from a day's worth of traveling with a duffel bag, he set his equipment down and took in the sight with his dark blue eyes. He leaned against a wall, resting one leg by putting his weight on the other. His desert combat boots and faded jeans were dusty from the road, as was the brown poncho that covered his upper body like a ramshackle cloak. It was a used blanket more than anything, but it served its purpose in concealing the ten-shot revolver hand cannon at his side. Around his neck was a dark blue bandana, which seemed to serve no purpose at the moment other than making him look like something out of a pulp western movie. He saw the people loading up the bodies and let out a sigh. Military types... he thought. He didn't know whom they were with, but he recognized the same tight-assed motions and behaviors as the old security force in Vault City. He figured he could even blend in with them were it not for his attire. Once those drills were engrained in your mind, you never forgot them.

Taking up his duffel bag, he started walking. It was unlikely that the bar was still open, but he wanted to try for a drink anyway.

That was when he heard what sounded like the head tightass making some kind of declaration. Work: that's what it boiled down to. He hadn't had any work since Junktown. Looking around the city, it was becoming apparent that these people were going to be the only work available for a long time. Dash walked up to the crowd forming by the leader and spoke up. "You got my attention."
 
Guard had been in the town one day. He'd slept in an abandoned building, two-storeys high probably a store at one time. The interior was fire damaged and there were scorch marks around the windows.

He had heard sporadic gunfire throughout the night, waking him from the light sleep he would fall into. As dawn broke he took some time exploring his surroundings, perhaps not the smartest idea considering the circumstances. Whenever gunfire was heard he would crouch down, his hand unconciously caressing the butt of the Mauser. He had no idea why he did this, it was certainly no concious effort. Either he was jumpy or it was relfexes. If it was the latter it merely infuriated him, having no idea where he had picked up such skills just compounded the mystery that was his existence.

He came across the Brotherhood group, giving what seemed like a recruiting speech before a group of rag-tag figures assembled before them.

Guard considered turning away, considered but did not. Instead he drew closer, eventually standing with the others assembled.

At first noone stepped forward and he certainly wouldn't be the first. He didn't even know who these guys were, good bad? Who cared. The Major's speech confirmed them as the Brotherhood. He had heard tales of them from the other guards on the caravans, but had had no personal experience of them in his six months of conscious life. Killing mutants? Seemed like a good a cause as any. Guard has nothing better to do and it seemed he wasn't getting any answers working as a caravan guard, that was for sure.

Guard snapped out of his thoughts as a man (Scrapper) stepped forward, approaching the BoS leader and offering his services.

Guard took this as an invitation and stepped forward himself.

"I'm with you, if you need another gun." he said quickly, no emotion in his offer. It was merely a statement, it was up the Major whether it would be accepted for Guard certainly didn't feel like auditioning with some grand speech or display of skill.
 
The day had started simply enough with him looking for a gun of any type to defend his home. After three fruitless hours searching the desert near his house he tripped over a lump and fell face first onto a rock.

**Ten Minutes Later**

Eduardo woke up and looked at the sun burning down on him, as he bitterly spit a full mouthful of sand from his mouth and uttered a stream of curses under his breath. Gingerly he felt his forehead where he landed on the rock. It was only a small gash and a tiny rivulet of blood flowed into his right eye. He wiped it away with the heel of his hand an looked at the sand behind him to see the butt of some unknown rifle sticking up out of the ground. Two minutes of digging later he was holding the shittiest looking shotgun he had ever seen. It was a single barrel break action sawed off twelve gauge that, as he lifted in one hand, poured sand from the barrel and the trigger. Eduardo pulled back the hammer and more sand flowed out from where it had sat for unknown years.

Chuckling dryly he held it weakly in one hand facing the ground away from him and pulled the trigger. BLAM. His weak grip let the barrel collide with his forehead, and he stared ahead in disbelief for two seconds before he fell straight backwards like a sack of shit and passed out.

**Twenty minutes later**

Eduardo awoke again, and wiped the blood he undoubtably had on his forehead away with his sleeve. Which was now stained with a nice streak of dark red, and smelling like copper.

Ay Dios Fucking Mio!!! Now I gota wash this piece of shit!!.........AND you- He looked at the shotgun, and hit the release lever for the barrel. It broke open with a dry click and the shell hit him in the face. He spluttered as sand got in his eyes and mouth from the weapon and even more poured from the break area of the gun. HOW IN THE HELL DOES THIS THING FIRE!!

Eduardo sighed heavily, closed the barrel, and started for home.

**An hour later**

Eduardo sat in a chair of the local gunshop patietly, listening to an old tape of mariachi music on the owners radio. Behind the counter a fat white man was grunting as he cleaned out the shotgun, and performed maintenance on it's ridiculously worn fittings and mechanisms.

**Yet another ten boring minutes later**

The owner of the gunshop turned and faced Eduardo.

"Here ya go shortstuff."

Ed handed the man a sack of coins and took his shotgun along with a bandolier of forty shells, which he donned over his shoulder like a proud bandito, and loaded one into the gun. Mustering all his pride and heritage he puffed out his chest and declared he would fight for all that was just in this world gone awry.

"Whatever get the hell out of my shop"

The owner was a full six feet and Eduardo couldn't even hope to win a fight against this man, not even an argument.

Turning and uttering a few curses he left the shop, and stepped into the street.

A large gathering of soldiers and mercenaries stood around a man in fancy armor giving a speech.

"When there are enough of them, those mutant fucks are going to come back here and kill or dip the rest of us. So we go there and kill them, or we wait, and they come to kill us."

Eduardo puffed out his chest as far as he could and from the back of the crowd he yelledI WILL FIGHT THE THREAT. I WHO HAVE SO MUCH TO LOSE YET SO LITTLE TO GIVE WILL PUT MY BEST FOOT FORWARD FOR THE GOOD OF ALL PEOPLES!

Everything fell dead silent and people mostly a foot taller than him turned to face him through long hair and combat helmet visors. Men holding hard-caliber weapons with fury in their eyes.

The crowd parted and the leader looked Eduardo in the eyes. He was way taller then him and looked down at the man of small stature with a due respect contrary to many other peope.

Well what have you to say to that?
 
Jack remained silent as the major made his speech, looking and examining all that gathered around him with his eyes under a thick scowl.

When the Major finished the speach Jack looked at the new recruits without much confidence, but knowing that everyone was needed. Jack then looked at Major Max and said in a low voice, maybe trying to not discourage the new recruits: "Well sir, we need anyone we can get." Hoping there were still more recruits or even more of his brothers to join the group.
 
They didn't look like much. Mangy dogs, hungry starved, mostly without either the tooth or claw to fight. But many had been in the Hub through the fighting. They would get better.

Max would carve an army out of them yet. Those that survived would be tough as nails. Those that didn't would be discarded along the wayside.

Max nodded. "Jack, take names and organize. Those green blooded bastards have probably left a rear guard behind. They're in the city, somewhere. We need to clear them out. Tonight. Let's think of it as a challenge for the recruits.'

Jack nodded and asked, quietly, "Can we expect more supplies? Men?"

"No. We're on our own. They can collect weapons from the mutants." Said Max.

Max looked out over the burnt city. Burning buildings sent plumes of sooty smoke into the crimson skies.

The mutants had done their work well. The Hub was no more and this fight was meaningless.

A scholar of war, Max understood Sun Tzu's teachings about the danger of fighting for property or waging in cities. Expensive, time consuming, and often meaningless. So why were the mutants still in the Hub?

The Hub had been the center of commerce, the one thing that held the wasteland together. Destroy the heart of commerce and they divided the small communities.

But their fortress had been destroyed, their leader killed, and at the Hub, the back of the mutant army had been broken. Yet they still fought. They were still trying to hold a meaningless piece of property with no tactical or strategic value.

Why?

Max was there because those were his orders. He had stopped the Mutants. He had sent them back. He had won a military victory over a superior force over valueless property.

The Mutants had nothing to gain in the Hub. They had already destroyed the city. What did they want?

Time. To cause a delay.

They wanted to slow down the BOS forces and escape. To go South, reorganize, and attack again.

They were still organized as a military unit, and there were still a lot of them. If they wanted, they could overwhelm the few humans who remained in the Hub.

But that would be a waste of assets. No, the mutant fuckers were on the move.

This ragtag army would have to pursue, like a dog on the trail of wolves, nipping at them, drawing away their strength.

"Jack, collect the men. Take the best and organize a search and destroy. The rest of them we will begin organizing. I want the skull of every mutant in the city added to our pile. And I want it done tonight. We move at first light. I will hold Talon Squad in reserve."

Jack nodded.

It would be a good opportunity for the young BOS knight to prove himself. He had the makings of a leader, but new leaders needed to be challenged.

Having finished his speech he went back to his BOS troop. He had come to the Hub with more, but most had been lost and now the BOS was sending the rest to their doom.

His men would go because they were the best, because he had made them that way, because they would follow him through hell without question. They were what the BOS should be. The finest soldiers.

In the middle of the Hub was a mountain of mutant skulls that he and his men had collected.

He took a cup of black tea from the sergeant of Talon squad. In the many years they had served together the sergeant knew that the Major liked the tea black and bitter, much like the Major's own conscience.

The Major took a long drink from the near boiling liquid, nodded. "Get them ready. We move tomorrow at dawn. These dogs need to be whipped into shape, but we can do that on the way south."

"Most aren't worth spit." Said the sergeant, who looked down on the rabble's lack of discipline and skill.

"No matter, most will die." Said the Major. "I want to take a look at our stock. Ready your men. Jack is forming a search and destroy to recon the town and rid us of their rear guard. But the men are armed with small arms. If necessary, we will apply our steel to their courage."

"On your command."

The Major nodded, and walked off. The Sergeant watched him go before signing up the volunteers.

The sergeant watched the Major walk away, brooding. The Major was a man of action and impatience. A man of average height and average build, he was extraordinary in the ruthlessness of his exceptional daring, violence and ambition.

It was those qualities that had led the BOS to assign the Major and his men this mission. But there was more, the BOS wanted both he and his men out of the way, and if possible disposed of.

The Major was thinking this as he inspected the two carts that BOS had generously supplied him, as well as his new orders.

They had supplied his with food, water, and some ammunition for small arms. Not new mini-guns, no plasma rifles or lazer rifles, no hand-to-hand weapons. Nothing valuable in the war against the Mutants. The BOS said they had nothing to spare, and they were right. The BOS had been badly depleted in the war. So badly, perhaps they would not rise again to their former glory.

And such was the sadness, thought the Major. The BOS were warriors first and foremost. In his scholarship he had read widely, Clausewitz and Sun Tzu, Ceaser and Napolean, Mao and LiddleHart. From these he knew, that the BOS was a military power, and as such, it lived to conquer. To do naught, was to waste, and wasted power turned corrupt.

The BOS needed leadership not of elder scribes but of warriors, who would carve a new world out of these barren wastelands, to impose order and rebuild with ruthless discipline.

Which was why the BOS feared him. Which was why he was being sent on this mission.

Rhombus had called him excessive in his dispensation of cruel violence.

Maxson had called him dangerous in his ambition and a menace.

But it was Vree who's label for him was perhaps most interesting- borderline sociopath.

The Elders had been wise. Rid themselves of two problems- Max and his soldiers, a potential praetorian guard, and the Mutants as a threat. If either was destroyed the Elders gained.

But Max had no intention of being destroyed. He would go South. He would find the Mutants and destroy them.

If he died, and if his men were all lost in the effort, so be it. The best a warrior could hope was to die gloriously in batte.

What were the Mutant fuckers up to? When in doubt, be ruthless.

Major Max had few doubts, but he would certainly be ruthless.
 
From the rocky hill to the south Krag watched the smoke rise from the Hub through his telescope.

It was disappointing. He had succeeded in destroying the town, and with it, the human's commerce. They had divided the communities and had been in position to crush each community and add their people to the Mutant army.

They had been on the cusp of victory.

And then it had been taken away. The military base destroyed, Morpheus killed. The Master dead.

But the Nightkin lived. As did the dream.

They were still strong. The dream would live beyond its creator.

So those few leaders who survived, the captains, had decided. They and their humie allies would go South and rebuild their army. They would find new humies to dip, and if there were not enough, no matter. There was always the second option.

Krag looked back. His legion was on the move south. There would be no further full scale onslaught on the Hub. That would come later.

There were Nightkin in the town, moving through the ruins, picking and killing humies. These were survivors of squads that had been broken but were too stupid to have retreated. Alone and wounded, they fought on like wounded beasts. But alone they would be easily killed.

Krag would have to delay the humies, to hurt them.

He had already left behind a few surprises. Mines, booby traps that were sown to breed fear.

He would send in some of his hunters to remind the humans what fear was. He called out to one of his lieutenants.

"Gogog. You will next your men into the Hub and keep the humies busy until dark. Then you are to follow. Bring back all Nightkin you can find. Do you understand."

Gogog was known for his ruthlessness if not his eloquence. He was a hunter, stealthy and cruel.

Gogog grunted and nodded slowly. "Gogog. Kill humies. Use fire. Return at dark."

"Yes. Return at dark. Bring back all nightkin you can find. Follow us." Said Karl. With the less intelligent one had to repeat the message.

"We kill many." Snarled Gogog.

Gogol snarled something at his men, something Karg could not understand. They were well armed- flamers, plasma rifles, mini-guns, rocket launchers. Those that perfered to fight up close carried giant blooded hammers and and fire axes.

Karg watched the mutants climb down and enter the ruined human city. Then he turned away and followed his army south.
 
Corporal-Knight Richter "Killer" Kell silently watched the moon rise over the shattered remannts of the burnt-out apartment. He sat smoking a cigarette, a prize stolen from a half-empty dispenser three blocks ago. He was a scout, and scouts had to make do with what they had, which, in this case, was pretty damn near 'tough shit'. He smiled slightly, finishing the drag as he flicked it at the large, bloated corpse near his feet.

"Heya Charlie, hold onto that one for me. You don't be going anywhere soon, now. I need to go check on something." With a slight grunt, he sat up from the makeshift chair and started for the fire escape, sliding down carefully to prevent any snags. He wore gloves, but he still feared tetanus and those burrs. As he climbed/slid down the escape, the rifle at his back rattled slightly. It was an older model German WA2000 sniper rifle (Just read Fallout sniper rifle), suited for the long defunct NATO 7.62. Still left a right decent hole in the target, and it was small, something Kell had come to appreciate. He was the last scout left, Bobby Joe having bought the farm from a ripper. No one should have to scoop up their own intestines like that...

As he heard talking in the distance, he glared at the near broken hand radio. Useless piece of shit that it was, he couldn't call in easily and let the Major know the last team scout was, in fact, alive. A lot had fallen early, picked off by laser rifles. No one had thought the mutants would have the wherewithall to actually hold a decent observation post but they had. Wouldnt be able to find any decent parts for his radio around here, not with the Hub a veritable stinking pit, instead of the metaphysical stinking pit of before. A pity, but he would make do. He was lightly armored, but he was damn fast while moving silently, something that had screwed with more than one mutant. The blood stained combat knife he had cleaned was proof of that. He ran silently through the streets, praying to the god of technology that the mutants didn't peg him in the back as he went through the lines. Or, what was worse, the BOS motion sensors didn't read IFF anymore.

Into the static-crackling radio, he tried to call in to the Major. "Major.....Knight....Kell.........mak....devous...arrive...soon.

He would be there within the quarter hour, hopefully the sentries would recognize him with the green blood splattered over his armor.

In another miracle, he made it through the boody trapped no man's land the main street had become. Making it past the lines, he angrily gave the identifying password, showed them the BOS tattoo, and was lead towards the command post. Saluting the major, he stood at attention. "Corporal-Knight Kell, reporting, sir."
 
Eduardo felt miserable. He had put out his best and not a single damned person had listened. Well screw them all. He bagan to walk down an alley when he heard a rumbling chuckle.

HUR HUR HUR.

Eduardo froze, waiting for the trap to spring and his life to end. It didn't.

After ten seconds Eduardo crept up to a door leading into a burned out shop.

A rather large mutant had apparently taken refuge in the window and was currently aiming a minigun into the street.

Ed silently crept up until he was two feet behind the hulking figure, and hit it in the back of the head as hard as he could.

It didn't even turn around. It just scratched it's head with it's left hand while it continued to scan the street.

Eduardo stared in disbelief at what had just happened, but quickly regained his composure and put the barrel of his shotgun an inch behind the mutants neck.

Ki-CAK.

The mutant turned his head halfway at the noise off the cocking gun.

BAM.

Now normally mutant skin is tough. Damn tough. So tough infact that one could argue that even shotgun pellets wouldnt go through the thick skin.

They were right. But it didn't matter. Every pellet that left the gun was instantly stopped. Except for one, which managed to bore itself through a soft spot and slip in between two vertabrae with five thousanths of an inch of clearence on either side and severed the spinal cord.

Ed took up his prideful pose again and puffed out his chest with a big smile. He ejected the shell and it hit his forehead for a second time today.

"DAMNIT YOU GUN!"

"Ey oo's dere?"

A mutant even bigger than the last was standing in a doorway on the far side of the room pulling up it's pants and waving a hand in front of it's face.

It spotted Ed

"Ey umie oo's can't be ere!"

A pulse pistol appeared in it's hands as if by magic and it fired a shot at Ed.

The bolt screamed past our hero's face missing by five inches and impacting the wall with a thud. The shockwave of the blast blew Ed's hat off, and as he stooped to grab it a second shot wizzed by overhead.

Firing a parting shot Eduardo fled the room and ran back to base expecting a burning death at his heels the whole time.

It wasn't going to happen though because a ricocheing pellet had hit the top of the mutants big toe and split the nail, causing the poor beast to drop to the ground sucking the wound and whimpering.

As Eduardo dashed into the perimiter a rifle found it's way up his nose. It was held by a rather large guard.

"What in the hell are you doing boy!?!"

"I got one sir, and another is chasing me I think!"

"TO ARMS BROTHERS, WE HAVE POSSIBLE INTRUDER!"

Eduardo slinked off to hide somewhere and gather his thoughts as four men came running to the alleyway entrance. For the first time in his life he was glad for his odd luck.
 
OC:

Ok, I was supposed to take you guys out in a search and destroy mission, what is your character doing Pyro? you were signed up for the patrol too. We will see if we deal with that mutant quickly enough and move on. After that your character will have to report to Jack.

I will take this as an opportunity for those who haven't entered the thread yet, so they still got time to join the search and destroy patrol. We'll see how we work it out.

After Jack gathers the patrol you will have to report to him so we know wich one of you takes part on it.
 
Somehow, during the course of the speech and ensuing chatter from the Brotherhood knights, Dash had found himself standing around while off in the distance gunshots were sending loud roars through the air. He spotted a cadre of knights, four to be exact, running down the alleyway after something. He didn't pay much mind at first -- that is until he saw the short man with a poncho similar to his own running in the opposite direction.

"Find something interesting back there, bub?" Dash's accent was strange, harboring twinges of outlander speech that had been picked up during his travels. Few would have guessed he was once a vault dweller.

He walked past Eduardo without expecting a reply, instead taking a detour around the buildings connecting the alleyway where the knights had taken chase after the mutant. He found a sturdy drainage pipe connected to the rooftop on one of the buildings, tested it with a shake of his arm, and deftly scaled it to get a better position atop the roof. Once he was on top of the building he ducked down and started moving low, trying to hide his profile as much as possible. He leapt across adjoining rooftops, letting the sound of gunfire cover his transit from building to building. He eventually spotted the knights moving in on what looked to be their target: a burned out shop.

From his vantage point, he couldn't get a clear view of exactly what was in the shop; he could only guess that there were mutants in there when a plasma bolt fired from the store window and landed on the chest plate of a knight wearing combat armor. He screamed and fell to the ground, the plasma bolt burning closer and closer towards his chest. His comrades barely had time to pull him aside before a barrage of heated bolts flew through the air and peppered the opposite building. The knights fell back to a safer location while the mutants stayed safely garrisoned within the building.

Dash, meanwhile, stood directly above the mutant garrison. After seeing the firepower the mutants were packing, he decided it best not to try for a frontal assault. Think... Mutants below you, trapped brotherhood that can't provide adequate backup, and all you have is this here revolver. Dash suddenly remembered to unlock the holster. Any back entrance is probably covered too. Shit. I need some way to distract them.

He thought for a minute, then remembered his Pipboy. He hadn't worn it since he left Vault City, but he had kept it within reach at all times. Someone, years ago, had thought it a good idea to install annoying customizable alarm sirens for the clock on his Pipboy. He selected what he felt was the most appropriate, which was a picture of the Pipboy cartoon icon holding up an alarm clock and saying in an obnoxiously squeaky voice, "WAKE UP, SLEEPY HEAD!"

Turning the volume on maximum, he set the Pipboy down near the edge of the roof and hit the "test" button. Instantly, the Pipboy's high-pitched voice was broadcast so that everyone within twenty feet of the horrid wakeup call could hear it. With any luck, the mutants would be dumb enough to take the bait.

Dash drew his pistol quickly and waited until he saw the first mutant emerge. He was right: they were dumb enough. On the edge of the roof, he lined up for the perfect shot right on the top of the mutant's skull.

KA-BLAM!

The high-caliber magnum round went through the mutant's crown, destroyed the frontal lobe of its brain, and exited out the front of its jaw. Dash took aim and squeezed the trigger again for good measure.

KA-BLAM!

The second bullet went through the back of the mutant's head and out the tremendous hole that had been created in the front part of his skull not a second earlier.

That was all the distraction the knights needed. As the other mutants moved out to take their revenge, they were cut down by a barrage of gunfire, torn limb from mutated limb. When the smoke cleared, Dash stood atop the shop and waved nonchalantly at the knights down below.

OOC: Whoops... Didn't see that post, Lt.

Heh, well, I guess this'll make Dash a prime candidate for that search and destroy party. :D
 
"Who the hell are you?!!" Jack said looking up to Dash, and before he had a chance to answer Jack ordered: "Report to me over there in five minutes" Aiming his hand to a destroyed street 50 meters away.

After five minutes a small group of Knights, Initiates and mostly mercenarys were gathered at the street. It was getting dark, the patrol would go out soon.

"Okay, I am here to take a patrol of you worthless recruits to a search and destroy mission, so I will need ALL your names, Initiates and Knights are also welcome."

"You!" said Jack signing at a short man with a mustache "You killed a mutant, right?" "Yes, sir!" Replied Eduardo with a smile on his face. "Okay, you are in.... You too, what is you name?!" Jack asked to Dash.

OC: The time to sign up for the patrol is now, after all reported and confirmed their presence, the patrol will go out.
 
The Major turned to watch the fighting going on, the man on the rooftop. He was also aware of the question from the young Knight.

But he was distracted by something else. Further away, in the rocky areas south of town, there was movement. From this distance that movement could only mean Mutants.

"Major?" Repeated Kell.

"Kell, we need to organize scouting parties to root out these green blooded bastards and finish them. Knight Jack is already organizing one squad. We need to finish this up and prepare to move. But be careful. There is a storm coming in. If things get hot, send a signal and the sergeant and Talon squad will be behind you."

"Aye sir." Replied the Corporal, who turned to leave.

"Corporal. One other thing. We are the beginning of a campaign from which many will not return. We need to know who are the best men of this lot. We must know who can stand up to the test and those who are worthless. But more importantly, We brothers must show leadership, daring, initiative and aggressiveness. And we must find out who are the best. Test the mettle of the men."

"Yes sir." Replied the Corporal.

"You have your orders."

The corporal turned to leave.

No dount the Mutant scum would leave a rear guard. This would give the Major a chance to know his men as well as plan his army.

His main force would be Talon Squad, heavily armed with mini-guns and rocket launchers and protected by their power armor. But he had few men with which to do much. He would reorganize. Divide his mean into teams of hunter killers. They would use their speed and agility against the enemies strength, they would use their intelligence against the enemy numbers. Some would fight as snipers, others would do recon.

A warrior must make due with the weapons at his disposal, so Max would forge an army with the remains of this ruined city.

_______________

Gogog felt the wind and sniffed the air.

A storm was coming.

He looked up to smell the wind picking up from the west, tasted the grittiness of sand. The red sky gave little indication of the storm coming, but Gogog knew the wind in it's caress.

A storm was coming. It would whip up the red sands from the West and fill the air, getting into the noses and mouths of men and mutant alike. It would dirty and clog weapons, blind shooters and thereby reduce the effectiveness of ranged weapons.

The storm would hide movement and distort sound. Soon a mutie might walk right up to a humie, and the human would now know his doom until the man's head was crushed between the mutant's palms.

This was good. He would wait for the storm before bringing his men into town. Then they would have the advantage and kill at close range.

Gogog was a hunter. A good hunter used his terrain and environment to his best advantage.

The air smelled of the stink of the overflooded sewer and broken pipes that flooded the streets with human excrement. But he could discern the smells of fires, of burning flesh, and he could smell the people.

They moved quietly and low, using the terrain to mask their movements. Just outside of town Gogog lifted a hand to stop his men. He pointed to a dark strip just outside of town that was largely hidden by desert vegetation and grass, and motioned them toward it. Then he moved forward until he neared the closet buildings.

The mutants were superior in strength and in the senses. These were their advantages.

He paused and listened. Yes, there was someone inside. Rustling through materials. One person. Human definitely by the sound of the movements. Not a heavy creature.

Gogog waited, carefully balancing his weight on his feet. Then he crept forward, low, his blade out.

The human had her back turn, a woman by the size, scavenging from a building like a rat. She was not aware of her danger until Gogog's hand came over her mouth and pulled her back.

She had barely time to give a startled cry, and that was drowned in the mutant's hands. Her fate was sealed when he swung his knife came down into her body stabbing her just below the navel and then quickly up to her ribs, gutting her as quickly as he might a fish.

The body fell limp and lifeless. The blood would draw more rats.

Gogol quietly slipped out of the house and rejoined his men in the ditch.

The others watched him and smiled as he lifted up one finger. He had the first kill. Then he led them further along the dark drainage ditch to a spot closer to the city but still hidden by tumble weed.

They waited as the storm came in like a giant wave of dust, filling the air of the town with red dust. Then, their mouths covered with clothes, they rose from the ditch and slipped into town.

They were excited by the smell of fresh blood on their leaders hands and looked forward to the thrill of the hunt and the pleasure of the kill. They were hungry and looked forward to quench their thirst for the kill.
 
Uziel fired the last shot in his Laser pistol, melting the mutant's brain from the eye going in. He reloaded it and checked how many cells he had left. Twenty. Damn. He had to get back to the rest of the company. He peaked his head out from the alleyway and a laser beam wizzed by his head.

"Oh, shit, you're ot a Mutant! Sorry about that!" an anonymous soldier exclaimed.

"It's alright, just be glad we weren't in the opposite positions."

Uziel tiptoed into the street and made his way, running from alleyway to alleyway until he finally spotted the groups of men getting their instructions. He came up behind Major Max and said,

"Sir! Private Fastrin reporting for duty, sir!"

The Major jumped.

"Shit! Private! Don't do that!"
 
Damn these grunts. This aint' fuckin play school.

Max pointed towards the town. "Fastrin. Report to Jack or Kell. We need to recon this town and clean it out. Get to it, Knight. This ain't your momma's tit you're suckin on the cold nipple of death. Best to fuck that bitch raw."

Fastrin moved with purpose.

Max shook his head. It would be a long campaign. He finished his tea as the dust cloud decended on the town like a wave crashing on a beach. In a moment his cup was tinted with red dust. Soon they would have trouble breathing.

"Sergeant. Ready your men. I suspect with this storm comin in, we'll need to keep it tight with the recon squads. Divy of your squad into fire teams. You take one, I'll take the other. Stay sharp now. The muties will come in close for the kill."
 
"I searched Old Town. Don't go over there. I barely got out with my arms."
Uziel left the Major to his buisness and found Brother Jck.

"Brother Jack!" Fastrin said, saluting.

"Holy! Where the hell'd you come from?"

"Sir, I'll be more careful and try to approach you from the front. I pissed off Major Max doing the same thing. My apologies, sir."
 
Ralik clutched the cold black steel of his combat shotgun, as he trudged through the rubble that was once his home town. When he saw one of the Brotherhood of Steel men ahead of him, he picked up his pace, running towards what appeared to be a captain or sergeant of some sort. When he was within shuting range he called out.

"Hey! ... HEY!" Ralik Cried.

The man looked over in his direction as he hurried to get closer.

"You with the the Brotherhood?"

He nodded in response.

"Good, I hear you need men who can fight, to take on the muties, and I want to take on the muties," Ralik paused for a moment to compose himself "They took everything from me, now I want to take everything from them..."
 
Dash looked at Jack rather indifferently and said in a plain tone of voice, "Dash Cooper."

"What? I can't hear you, soldier!"

"Then you need to have your hearing checked."

"Oh, a tough guy, huh? You think you're some hot shit, outlander?"

"You can keep your voice down, you know. I can hear you just fine; I'm sure half the damn mutant army can too with all your shouting." Dash looked at Jack with a hint of a smirk on his face. He wagered that more than half the recruits here had never dealt with military types before, and the other half's only experience with them was taken from a safe distance after delivering caravan goods to the Brotherhood outpost up north. Dash, on the other hand, had dealt with more than his share of loud CO's when he was a member of vault security. While Jack's tone of voice must have intimidated many other fresh recruits, it did nothing for Dash but make him laugh inside.

Jack likely felt like cracking Dash across the face for insubordination. If any knight had mouthed off to a commanding officer like that, he would have earned himself a squad-sized ass kicking. But Dash was not an initiate, and whether Jack liked it or not, he was too invaluable right now to risk having him walk away. He was one of the two civilians in Jack's squad who had a confirmed mutant kill -- something even seasoned knights could attest to as being a very difficult task. People like him were best not thrown away over petty personal differences.

"If we're taking this kill squad deeper into the city, you'd best have everyone prepped for storm warfare. This dustbowl is gonna get worse before it gets better."

With that, Dash lifted his bandana over his mouth and produced a pair of vault-issued goggles from underneath his poncho. His gun was kept secure in its holster, where it would stay until it was absolutely needed. Although it was finely constructed and could avoid weathering much better than some of the other weapons used in the squad, Dash still didn't want to risk a blockage in the barrel by carrying it out in the open. Besides that, this mission would require stealth if he wanted to come out of it alive, and avoiding open engagement with the enemy was at the top of Dash's priority list.

Adjusting his goggles, he turned to Jack and gestured with his hand. "Lead the way."
 
As Eduardo stumbled through the dust blowing all over the damn town, he got lucky and managed to seperate from his squad. He saw the vague outline of a door and decided to head for shelter.

As he passed through the threshold a few things happened. First the mutant standing in the doorway was clearing it's eyes of dust and didn't see Eduardo approach. Second eduardo was hunched down against the wind and passed right under the mutant in the doorways legs. And third as Ed stood up he was so happy to be inside that he jumped, and the butt of his gun hanging over his shoulder connected solidly with the mutants balls.

"WAAAAGGGGGHHH"

Eduardo was stunned by the cry and by the time he had his gun out the mutant had recovered and was turning to check what had hit it.

BLAM. Despite the sand the gun fired, and the mutants nuts where blown clear out the door.

When the mutie dropped Eduardo fired a second shot into it's face blinding both eyes and ripping off a large quantity of skin. Mutie began to swing wildly with a knife, but as luck would have it the second shell hit Eduardo in the face as he ejected it and he recoiled back with the blade missing his face by an inch.

A final shot finished the mutant as it tore through it's throat.

Jack came running with the squad on his heels in time to see "Lucky" quivering in the doorway above a mutants body. He rapidly regained his composure and puffed his chest out.

I th-think I g-g-got o-one s-s-s-sir!!
 
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