The Enclave 86
Look, Ma! Two Heads!
The Battle of Navarro
Alas, Navarro - Part 3
Sutler made his way past the fallen satellite dish and the massacred NCR soldiers from only about ten minutes ago; whilst Whitman’s assault had felled a great many NCR it had also massively roused their attention. Sutler felt it prudent to assume from the NCR’s previous displays of tactics that he would soon find himself swarmed by another horde of sand-coloured cannon fodder. The building was a single roomed structure which served as the sectors service elevator to Sub-Level 1; after rapidly raising the shutter and sealing it again behind him, Sutler pressed the only other available button down to the central corridor for the lower level.
Despite the fact that the metal corridors were a common model, they were once upon a time brightly lit by white-blue wall lights supported by huge glowing sphere’s of amber from the ceiling, even after all these years and the circumstances Sutler now faced he was still reminded of the ENCLAVE Oil Rig; in-fact the emergency lighting and tingling sensation of dread which he felt all over reminded him of the ENCLAVE’s last day with only the dead-pan silence differing from the chaos of March 3rd 2242. The central corridor itself was a linear pathway stretching from the eastern perimeter to the western one; Sutler saw to his right that the NCR shelling of northern Navarro had destroyed the access corridor to the Armoury which was in complete darkness save from the occasional flicker of sparks for severed ceiling cables.
Only now as Sutler’s system began to drain of adrenaline did he realise that he had no idea where to begin looking for the men he had been leading; indeed it was more likely that they themselves had ran straight through the Hanger and down into the northern sector of Navarro. ‘Take the western elevator up to the Cafeteria and then the emergency elevator in the rear back down to the underground barracks’; Sutler remembered and planned his route, check his immediate surroundings and stepped off the elevator. Opposite the ruined Armoury corridor, to Sutler’s left, was another emergency escape route that Sutler now remembered actually remembered being destroyed as he, Autumn and Granite had arrived at Navarro back in 2242; it exited outside of Navarro and even the two trenches which were later dug and – ‘constituting a significant security risk both now and to future defence initiatives’ – had been sealed. Behind Sutler was an immediate dead end due to the eastern elevator being only twelve feet from the perimeter fence but ahead lay the first door of the central corridor, on the other-side of which was the central mainframe and Commander Marsh’s quarters; before Sutler could make another move towards the door however it opened and a trio of NCR soldiers approached him, one wearing a green beret and flanked by a pair of regular grunts.
“About damn time, how long does it take for you boys to search a Garage? Some of these lunatics are still operatin...” The soldier had been cut short by a ball of plasma and his two fellows soon followed, they did however manage to fire a few shots before they fell. ‘[censored]’ Sutler cursed as he began to sprint towards the open door; he looked to his left to see NCR soldiers sprinting from the Commander’s office – the door of which was open – and down the thankfully long corridor towards him. As he built up speed and passed doors Sutler heard them open behind him and bullets rattled all around him; after steam rolling a pair of NCR soldiers who had exited in-front of him, Sutler slowed down in time to press the button to ground level in time with him stopping dead. As the elevator began to rise a thunder of boots could be heard coming down the corridor towards him; Sutler was surveying the cafeteria that he was entering – noticing the corpse of a middle-aged civilian as he did so – but still put in a few shots between the closing space between the elevator and ground floor.
Once he had decided that the Cafeteria was clear, even Sutler wondered whether the NCR shaman would order his men to certain death by calling the elevator back down; deciding to play it safe he melted the control panel with a ball of plasma before crossing the red and white checked tiles to the body of the fallen civilian; like everyone at Navarro, Sutler recognised his face even if he and the gentlemen had never been acquainted. Sutler searched for the man’s paper to take with him to honour, eventually finding them in a thigh pouch.
“Rest in peace Mr. Kane,” Sutler whispered.
The elevator creaked and begun to descend but the NCR would be unable to send it back up again, regardless however they would always send men up the staircase only around the corner; Sutler decided to proceed with the upmost haste. To the north of the Cafeteria – though in the same building – were the surface barracks which contained the emergency escape route for the northern underground section; Sutler navigated the fallen triple-bunk beds and lockers until he reached the room at the back which housed the elevator. The elevator took Sutler to a twisted tunnel almost bellow the Founder’s Carpark; following the corridor to a junction Sutler’s eyes were drawn to the left corridor and something he hadn’t registered when topside only a minute ago. The first light was breaking through the clouds of that February morning, it must be 9 ‘clock; Sutler then realised that the light was shining through the blasted remains of the tunnel which appeared to exit into a crater from the NCR bombardment, the sound of heavy gunfire however is what attracted Sutler’s immediate attention, especially in the light that returning energy fire was almost non-existant.
Sprinting into the light, Sutler’s first sight was the body of a trooper laying face down in the ground with his holo-tags had already been recovered; upon inspection of the trooper’s chest plate it transpired to be Sergeant Locklear. He was oozing fresh blood from a serious wound under his right armpit, after a silent prayer Sutler reached for Locklear’s Wattz Laser Rifle and sprinted for a ruined strucuture ahead which Sutler’s recognised as that which had collapsed upon him. Weaving around a wall – now reduced to knee-height – and up a flight of stairs now paved with ceiling chunks, Sutler made his way to the roof and rested the rifle on an airconditioning unit; he had arrived un-seen and in time to see his fears realised. An NCR shaman in a green beret placed a captured plasma pistol to the face of a dying trooper whom lay next too two others – and pulled the trigger before throwing the pistol away.
“Pathetic,” the shaman said as he stemmed a wound to his arm. “These people would fight and die for a rag on a pole. Proceed Sergeant.”
The NCR soldier – one among a further two dozen – whom the shaman had curiously referred to as ‘Sergeant’ placed two hands upon the rope which securely fastened the star spangled banner to Navarro’s flagpole; he game a tug and the flag dropped by two feet whilst another soldier stood by him holding a flag like that the Commander had burned hours ago. A unparalleled feeling consumed Sutler, like that he had felt when he had conceded and let his friends leave with his blessing but with the force of every blow he had dealt in his entire life combined.
“Come on Sergeant, hurry this along so we can recuperate,” the shaman snapped at his man.
“No,” Sutler spat through gritted teeth though with a still audible tremor in his voice. “God-damn you NCR, God-damn you all to hell.” Sutler looked down the sights of the Wattz rifle and readied himself for the shot; he felt repulsed and angry but he must do what was expected of him. Sutler squeezed the trigger and the laser bolt flew from the barrel of his rifle and into the blue field of stars which occupied the upper-left corner of the flag; contrary to Sutler’s intentions however the flag did not ignite.
“Agh!” Sutler screamed as he forced himself to shoot Old Glory again and again. “The stars and stripes will not be your trophy NCR!” After another two shots the flag finally burst into flame and Sutler turned his sights on the NCR shamans whom he decapitated in a single shot. Removing the rifle and cradling it, he slumped against the air-conditioning unit as the fire from over twenty rifles headed his way.
“You won’t take me either, I won’t be your prize NCR!” Sutler yelled before he wildly remembered the only other thing of significance to him; the Sutler family photo album lay in his room, the chronicle of the centuries old dynasty would not be their curious relic either. Sutler got to his feet and broke into a run, he leapt a whole story down to a pile of rubble on the first floor of the building before hurriedly getting back to ground level and sprinting back into the own crater and the barracks within. The Gannon’s private apartment was his destination, through the dark corridors he rushed unable to stop before the hive of NCR reached him; the jingling of so many holo-tags in one of his pouches made him yell again. ‘A tactical retreat on a much wider scale is all,’ Sutler thought to himself. ‘Find Moreno and the others, have a Vertibird, gather the scattered troopers and strike again whilst they think that they have won. It is only a thought!’
Although Kreger had been living in the room instead of Sutler to comfort the grieving Roxanne Gannon, neither had exchanged their possessions ; Sutler’s neat footlocker was still full of his gear though he seized Kreger’s nearby duffle bag and poured it’s contents of spare uniforms into the floor. Once emptied Sutler dumped the entire contents of his footlocker into the bag, everything irreplaceable in the field from his black BDUs to pencils; finally he placed the frayed red-leather album on top of his soft uniforms and tucked his ammo-less Gauss Pistol beneath them.
Drained by the ethical assassination of his country’s treasured symbol and now truly aware that Navarro could no longer be won, he had descended into a frenzied autopilot of self-denial and psychotic rage; ditching the laser rifle for Kreger’s duffle bag and wielding Moreno’s parting gift he left his home of almost six years without much room in his addled head for sentimental thoughts or else he would never leave.; it was as though his natural self-preservation instinct had took on a persona all of its own, knowing that the only way for Sutler to leave Navarro was to convince him that it was merely a ‘fall back’. Running down the corridor for the light now streaming in from the gaping crater, Sutler sent five NCR soldiers flying like skittles, NCR soldiers from the Courtyard were at the ruined building and Founder’s Carpark only tens of feet away from the crater that Sutler had from. He ran straight north however, ahead of him was Navarro’s perimeter fence; no longer electrified, it’s admittedly strong razor wire was little more than paper to a power-armoured trooper running in access of 25 mph. The two trenches had been built around Navarro’s entire perimeter but here had been merged into one with shallow slopes by the NCR shelling, Sutler barely had to slow down to sprint through the crater, confident that his holo-tags were back around his neck Sutler knew that the small mounds of earth which concealed the plasma mines wouldn’t detonate. He kept running, the only sound audible to him the frantic beating of his own heart; soon, even if he had heard it, the NCR fire behind him stopped as Sutler left Navarro behind and slowed down whilst climbing one of the many hills around Navarro.
Knowing that this was a moment that Sutler must have, the adrenaline began to fade away again and Sutler continued to climb the hill; upon reaching the summit he turned around to see Navarro. Aside from the Hanger, not a single significant building remained standing, certainly not any of more than one story. The refinery sector in the south was still burning strongly, the crashed Vertibird was visible in the south-western corner and the full extent of the NCR’s shelling could finally be witnessed. Sutler looked out across Navarro, from east to west; he had nothing, no supplies, no ammo and no direction; adjusting the duffle bag over his shoulder Sutler tore his eyes away from Navarro and looked to the barren north before taking his first true, conscious step as a man who served no flag.
Alas, Navarro - Part 3
Sutler made his way past the fallen satellite dish and the massacred NCR soldiers from only about ten minutes ago; whilst Whitman’s assault had felled a great many NCR it had also massively roused their attention. Sutler felt it prudent to assume from the NCR’s previous displays of tactics that he would soon find himself swarmed by another horde of sand-coloured cannon fodder. The building was a single roomed structure which served as the sectors service elevator to Sub-Level 1; after rapidly raising the shutter and sealing it again behind him, Sutler pressed the only other available button down to the central corridor for the lower level.
Despite the fact that the metal corridors were a common model, they were once upon a time brightly lit by white-blue wall lights supported by huge glowing sphere’s of amber from the ceiling, even after all these years and the circumstances Sutler now faced he was still reminded of the ENCLAVE Oil Rig; in-fact the emergency lighting and tingling sensation of dread which he felt all over reminded him of the ENCLAVE’s last day with only the dead-pan silence differing from the chaos of March 3rd 2242. The central corridor itself was a linear pathway stretching from the eastern perimeter to the western one; Sutler saw to his right that the NCR shelling of northern Navarro had destroyed the access corridor to the Armoury which was in complete darkness save from the occasional flicker of sparks for severed ceiling cables.
Only now as Sutler’s system began to drain of adrenaline did he realise that he had no idea where to begin looking for the men he had been leading; indeed it was more likely that they themselves had ran straight through the Hanger and down into the northern sector of Navarro. ‘Take the western elevator up to the Cafeteria and then the emergency elevator in the rear back down to the underground barracks’; Sutler remembered and planned his route, check his immediate surroundings and stepped off the elevator. Opposite the ruined Armoury corridor, to Sutler’s left, was another emergency escape route that Sutler now remembered actually remembered being destroyed as he, Autumn and Granite had arrived at Navarro back in 2242; it exited outside of Navarro and even the two trenches which were later dug and – ‘constituting a significant security risk both now and to future defence initiatives’ – had been sealed. Behind Sutler was an immediate dead end due to the eastern elevator being only twelve feet from the perimeter fence but ahead lay the first door of the central corridor, on the other-side of which was the central mainframe and Commander Marsh’s quarters; before Sutler could make another move towards the door however it opened and a trio of NCR soldiers approached him, one wearing a green beret and flanked by a pair of regular grunts.
“About damn time, how long does it take for you boys to search a Garage? Some of these lunatics are still operatin...” The soldier had been cut short by a ball of plasma and his two fellows soon followed, they did however manage to fire a few shots before they fell. ‘[censored]’ Sutler cursed as he began to sprint towards the open door; he looked to his left to see NCR soldiers sprinting from the Commander’s office – the door of which was open – and down the thankfully long corridor towards him. As he built up speed and passed doors Sutler heard them open behind him and bullets rattled all around him; after steam rolling a pair of NCR soldiers who had exited in-front of him, Sutler slowed down in time to press the button to ground level in time with him stopping dead. As the elevator began to rise a thunder of boots could be heard coming down the corridor towards him; Sutler was surveying the cafeteria that he was entering – noticing the corpse of a middle-aged civilian as he did so – but still put in a few shots between the closing space between the elevator and ground floor.
Once he had decided that the Cafeteria was clear, even Sutler wondered whether the NCR shaman would order his men to certain death by calling the elevator back down; deciding to play it safe he melted the control panel with a ball of plasma before crossing the red and white checked tiles to the body of the fallen civilian; like everyone at Navarro, Sutler recognised his face even if he and the gentlemen had never been acquainted. Sutler searched for the man’s paper to take with him to honour, eventually finding them in a thigh pouch.
“Rest in peace Mr. Kane,” Sutler whispered.
The elevator creaked and begun to descend but the NCR would be unable to send it back up again, regardless however they would always send men up the staircase only around the corner; Sutler decided to proceed with the upmost haste. To the north of the Cafeteria – though in the same building – were the surface barracks which contained the emergency escape route for the northern underground section; Sutler navigated the fallen triple-bunk beds and lockers until he reached the room at the back which housed the elevator. The elevator took Sutler to a twisted tunnel almost bellow the Founder’s Carpark; following the corridor to a junction Sutler’s eyes were drawn to the left corridor and something he hadn’t registered when topside only a minute ago. The first light was breaking through the clouds of that February morning, it must be 9 ‘clock; Sutler then realised that the light was shining through the blasted remains of the tunnel which appeared to exit into a crater from the NCR bombardment, the sound of heavy gunfire however is what attracted Sutler’s immediate attention, especially in the light that returning energy fire was almost non-existant.
Sprinting into the light, Sutler’s first sight was the body of a trooper laying face down in the ground with his holo-tags had already been recovered; upon inspection of the trooper’s chest plate it transpired to be Sergeant Locklear. He was oozing fresh blood from a serious wound under his right armpit, after a silent prayer Sutler reached for Locklear’s Wattz Laser Rifle and sprinted for a ruined strucuture ahead which Sutler’s recognised as that which had collapsed upon him. Weaving around a wall – now reduced to knee-height – and up a flight of stairs now paved with ceiling chunks, Sutler made his way to the roof and rested the rifle on an airconditioning unit; he had arrived un-seen and in time to see his fears realised. An NCR shaman in a green beret placed a captured plasma pistol to the face of a dying trooper whom lay next too two others – and pulled the trigger before throwing the pistol away.
“Pathetic,” the shaman said as he stemmed a wound to his arm. “These people would fight and die for a rag on a pole. Proceed Sergeant.”
The NCR soldier – one among a further two dozen – whom the shaman had curiously referred to as ‘Sergeant’ placed two hands upon the rope which securely fastened the star spangled banner to Navarro’s flagpole; he game a tug and the flag dropped by two feet whilst another soldier stood by him holding a flag like that the Commander had burned hours ago. A unparalleled feeling consumed Sutler, like that he had felt when he had conceded and let his friends leave with his blessing but with the force of every blow he had dealt in his entire life combined.
“Come on Sergeant, hurry this along so we can recuperate,” the shaman snapped at his man.
“No,” Sutler spat through gritted teeth though with a still audible tremor in his voice. “God-damn you NCR, God-damn you all to hell.” Sutler looked down the sights of the Wattz rifle and readied himself for the shot; he felt repulsed and angry but he must do what was expected of him. Sutler squeezed the trigger and the laser bolt flew from the barrel of his rifle and into the blue field of stars which occupied the upper-left corner of the flag; contrary to Sutler’s intentions however the flag did not ignite.
“Agh!” Sutler screamed as he forced himself to shoot Old Glory again and again. “The stars and stripes will not be your trophy NCR!” After another two shots the flag finally burst into flame and Sutler turned his sights on the NCR shamans whom he decapitated in a single shot. Removing the rifle and cradling it, he slumped against the air-conditioning unit as the fire from over twenty rifles headed his way.
“You won’t take me either, I won’t be your prize NCR!” Sutler yelled before he wildly remembered the only other thing of significance to him; the Sutler family photo album lay in his room, the chronicle of the centuries old dynasty would not be their curious relic either. Sutler got to his feet and broke into a run, he leapt a whole story down to a pile of rubble on the first floor of the building before hurriedly getting back to ground level and sprinting back into the own crater and the barracks within. The Gannon’s private apartment was his destination, through the dark corridors he rushed unable to stop before the hive of NCR reached him; the jingling of so many holo-tags in one of his pouches made him yell again. ‘A tactical retreat on a much wider scale is all,’ Sutler thought to himself. ‘Find Moreno and the others, have a Vertibird, gather the scattered troopers and strike again whilst they think that they have won. It is only a thought!’
Although Kreger had been living in the room instead of Sutler to comfort the grieving Roxanne Gannon, neither had exchanged their possessions ; Sutler’s neat footlocker was still full of his gear though he seized Kreger’s nearby duffle bag and poured it’s contents of spare uniforms into the floor. Once emptied Sutler dumped the entire contents of his footlocker into the bag, everything irreplaceable in the field from his black BDUs to pencils; finally he placed the frayed red-leather album on top of his soft uniforms and tucked his ammo-less Gauss Pistol beneath them.
Drained by the ethical assassination of his country’s treasured symbol and now truly aware that Navarro could no longer be won, he had descended into a frenzied autopilot of self-denial and psychotic rage; ditching the laser rifle for Kreger’s duffle bag and wielding Moreno’s parting gift he left his home of almost six years without much room in his addled head for sentimental thoughts or else he would never leave.; it was as though his natural self-preservation instinct had took on a persona all of its own, knowing that the only way for Sutler to leave Navarro was to convince him that it was merely a ‘fall back’. Running down the corridor for the light now streaming in from the gaping crater, Sutler sent five NCR soldiers flying like skittles, NCR soldiers from the Courtyard were at the ruined building and Founder’s Carpark only tens of feet away from the crater that Sutler had from. He ran straight north however, ahead of him was Navarro’s perimeter fence; no longer electrified, it’s admittedly strong razor wire was little more than paper to a power-armoured trooper running in access of 25 mph. The two trenches had been built around Navarro’s entire perimeter but here had been merged into one with shallow slopes by the NCR shelling, Sutler barely had to slow down to sprint through the crater, confident that his holo-tags were back around his neck Sutler knew that the small mounds of earth which concealed the plasma mines wouldn’t detonate. He kept running, the only sound audible to him the frantic beating of his own heart; soon, even if he had heard it, the NCR fire behind him stopped as Sutler left Navarro behind and slowed down whilst climbing one of the many hills around Navarro.
Knowing that this was a moment that Sutler must have, the adrenaline began to fade away again and Sutler continued to climb the hill; upon reaching the summit he turned around to see Navarro. Aside from the Hanger, not a single significant building remained standing, certainly not any of more than one story. The refinery sector in the south was still burning strongly, the crashed Vertibird was visible in the south-western corner and the full extent of the NCR’s shelling could finally be witnessed. Sutler looked out across Navarro, from east to west; he had nothing, no supplies, no ammo and no direction; adjusting the duffle bag over his shoulder Sutler tore his eyes away from Navarro and looked to the barren north before taking his first true, conscious step as a man who served no flag.