ICC- Kilrick Salvage Chapter 2- On the Road to NYC

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  1. Prudence

    Prudence It Wandered In From the Wastes

    Dec 17, 2003
    The fine tune of whistling rang through the air, what sounded like an insane song bird chriping some lyric of death. It gave everyone a sense of forboding, but then again, that was Edden.

    In the time that passed between the horror of the gluttons and her violation, Edden was thankful none of the tubbies actually made it through her jade gates. If that had occured, well Edden might have taken her Colt .45 and placed it in her mouth and squeezed the trigger.

    In no time, the rank scent of semen and sweat would be gone and Edden would be able to breathe the air again without fighting the urge to gag.

    ♪"Sweet chica baby!!! Oh, my sweet chica baby, where have you gone???"♪ She sang in her tub.

    Outside, Rama lay on the bed, the shrapnel long removed from his face, the tiny wounds would heal and just leave marks, nothing more, nothingless.
  2. SuAside

    SuAside Testament to the ghoul lifespan

    May 27, 2004
    Stowe continued analysing Logans blood in hope to make sense of it. Although she already had learned much, a lot more information lay dormant inside Logans body.

    Wolf was getting ready to shock Logan with the defib, but was halted at the last second by Stowe.

    "Wait! Don't do it, I overlooked something. Leave him." She said.

    Upon further analysis she had realised that although the nanotech organisms he carried in his blood were draining him entirely of his power, they were also saving his life at this point in time. Shocking them and thereby killing off a good part of them could prove fatal. Only now she realised that these organisms had constructed other types of small droids to fight the infection. These droids were a lot more demanding upon the host, which had caused Logan to crumble since he was already under heavy strain from the original nanotech organisms.

    She now informed Edwards of her findings and he suggested an interesting experiment. They added an heavily infected bloodsample from Stokes' blood to Logans blood. Almost instantly the nanotech droids multiplied exponentially and started to fight the virus. In such a small test environment the infection was very quickly cleaned out. The diseasefighting droids seemed to dissolve themselves back into minerals after their work was done, leaving only the smaller worker droids to remain.

    Both scientist realised that therein lay the cure. The nanotech droids responsible for hunting the virus were harmless after the virus was cleansed, unlike the other nanotech organisms in Logans blood, which still had weird side effects like the shakes they had seen on Logan before.

    The scientists decided to infect a batch of O negative blood with the droids and then filter out the specific droids they needed, which were bigger than the other. This way they hoped to get an potent but still somewhat dangerous anti-serum.

    "I think we have a cure thanks to Logan." Stowe informed Kilrick.

    "You think or you know?" Kilrick asked sceptically.

    "Well, there could of course be some unknown side effects... This isn't exactly an advanced bacteriologic lab you know." Stowe replied.

    "I'm willing to take the risk." Stokes said as he overheard the two, realising he was the most severely infected due to the bite on his hand.

    Edwards administered the serum. Unlike Logan, Stokes did not go into shock after a few minutes, although he reported he felt rather hungry. After analysis of the blood, Edwards was glad to inform Kilrick that the serum was doing it's job in multiplying and fighting the virus, although wether the nanotech droids in the serum would dissolve only time would tell. As Stowe was about to comment, Logan walked past. To the others surprise his wound seemed almost completely healed.

    "Say, you guys don't happen to have a snack on you? Damn, I'm starving!" He said. "Ow yeah, and did I miss anything?"
  3. Carib FMJ

    Carib FMJ Nuka-Cola Chaser

    Nov 8, 2003
    Rama was beginning to feel his body drain. It was like a feeling of hunger he had never felt before. That was a bad sign, which meant the A-9 was eating at him already when he was by right, immune to it. He supposed the radiation and other unknown factors may have mutated it. Nature really does go under the leash of man.

    From the talk of Stokes and Stowe, Rama gathered a cure had been derived and was still being tested. He just hoped it was so, he had no intention of wasting away.

    Now, that was no way to die.
  4. DarkCorp

    DarkCorp So Old I'm Losing Radiation Signs

    Oct 27, 2003
    *IFV currently tailing Kilrick*

    As the vehicle rumbled and shaked, Eric was busy contemplating about the message?

    "what the hell is recorded in this thing anyway?"

    Earlier, Greifswalds men had observed Kilricks departure of the once populated burg, leaving it decimated. Believing that it was time for the asian to rejoin his comrades, Eric was escorted to a waiting IFV meant to catch up with the mercenary team.

    "It shouldn't take us too long to catch up to your old boss. Just hope he notices the white flag hanging from the vehicle and doesn't get trigger happy", remarked one of the soldiers.

    "Kilrick is a smart guy. Why waste ammo un-necessarily when they might need it later". Eric remarked.

    "Well for all our sakes you better be right", replied another gruff looking trooper decked out in combat armor.

    And so the ride continued in silence until one of the soldiers seemed to remember something.

    "Oh yeah, before I forget, (the soldier opens up a weapons crate and hands Eric a M24 with two 4 clips of ammo). The colonel told us its a goodwill gesture. Plus we can't just send you back without a weapon or ammunition."

    Eric shoved a clip into the sniper rifle and then slung it over his shoulders.

    "Make sure you tell your boss thanks for the parting gift"

    The soldiers nodded in acknowledgement.

    And so time continued to pass as the IFV slowly made its way towards Kilricks rig.
  5. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    I wasn't sure why the Anthrax 9 hadn't affected me before. I had visited the Gluttons before and had been pleased with the business. I hadn't recalled any strange viral after-affects or food cravings for anything two legged. But if there's one law of the wastes it's that change was constant. Perhaps the only constant of all.

    Stowe was working out the cure, and Wolf was busy giving innoculations. I would have preferred it being tested, but then beggers can't be choosers. It was inject now or we'd be turning on each other. That would have made getting paid more complicated.

    Jasmin and Deeds had set up positions out front. If we were going to get hit hard, it would come from back there. I had sent Stokes and Reik out back to watch for infiltrators or maybe Dire. Our position wasn't secure, but we had made due with what we had.

    Stowe had talked to Logan about the blood chemistry, and about his condition. He had told us that soon he would need a shock to keep the nano-bots in his blood contained. Meanwhile the innoculations were starting to do their work. We still had some foodstuffs but we were running low. Hopefully we would get more in NYC. Stowe and Edwards had suggested that we wait here for 10 hours to see what the effects of the nano-bots on the virus, but things were looking good.

    We just had to wait.

    But waiting had always been difficult for me. I was thinking about the Greys, who were no doubt out there, probably drawn to the blast from the Gluttons. And then there were the three strangers, whatever they were. I had little doubt that they were out there still.

    Edden had taken a long shower, and had found some old towels to dry off. She looked fresh and clean, and even the scars on her face looked better. For a moment perhaps the water had washed away all the stains of the last few days, maybe even all the sins of her life. For a moment it was like all that was cleaned and she might be young again, innocent. She smiled. "Shower's yours."

    I nodded. I could use the cleaning.

    Someone had been kind enough to get the hot water heater going, probably Edden, and the sensation was refreshing. I let the water steam up around me for a long moment, closed my eyes and enjoyed it.

    I heard the door open and the sound of feet, and said, "It's occuppied."

    Stowe said, "I know."

    I heard her undress, and the shower curtain pull back, and a hand touch my back, and within my cares seemed to temporarily dissipate.


    The dark haired one was fixing the damage on the bald one. There was some radiation damage to the skin, but the hardened bodies underneath seemed to be otherwise unaffected. A series of diagnostics revealed no unusual faults in the operating systems.

    "A message from Demonicus." Said the curly haired one. "Demonicus is saying that the prey is closer to the city now. The coordinates of it's present location have been sent and are recorded. Protocols are to be continued till the operation is completed and the prey is deleted."

    With the three turned and continued towards their destination.


    Further away, the commander of the Grey squadron was looking at the ruins of the warehouse. The building had been blown apart and a crater 20 feet deep and 40 feet across lay in the middle of the building. Burnt particles and debries lay in a perimeter over a mile in every direction. Nothing had survived the blast, and it was even difficult to find bodies. What they did find, grotesquely shaped humans and giant fourlegged creatures that vagually looked like mutant canines, were broken and shattered, their bones scorched black.

    Earlier, when surveying the sight, the driver had said, "If they were here, they're dead now Cap." Said the driver.

    "If they were here." Said the Captain.

    If. That would have made things easier. Then they could have gone home. One of their tracks had been mauled already, and the captain didn't like risking more of his squadron on this chase.

    Then a chirp on the radio. THe communications man put on the headphones and listened. Gave a thumbs up.

    It was the agent.

    THe communcations man wrote down a number. Then the parts of code.

    Then the message went dead.

    The communications officer quickly decoded, then handed the message to the captain. "The agent's still in play."

    The captain looked at the message. The coordinates of the second salvage team. They were approaching New York, which meant they had little time left. Once the salvagers entered New York, the Greys would only be able intercept them on the way out.

    "Call the other tracs and convey the coordinates. We're going to capture our prey." Said the Captain.

    Soon his squadron was roaring off in the direction of Kilrick's crew.
  6. Reaper

    Reaper Still Mildly Glowing

    Apr 11, 2003
    "See anything?" Reik asked, shifting position, trying to ease the pain in his shoulder. Wolf had popped the joint back into place but it still ached and his movement was restricted, though the medic had told him there would probably be no permanent damage.

    "Nothing yet." came the reply. Reik looked over at Stokes. He was big man and Reik felt better having some back up. Especially some back up that would serve a bigger meal and therefore a good distraction for any dire that attacked.

    All they had to do was wait though. Reik could feel something following them. It was only a matter of time before they caught up.

    OOC: Sorry about the short post. I just started Uni again and computer time is scarce. Catch you later. The story is looking good so far.

    Rama, cheers for saving my character. :)
  7. Prudence

    Prudence It Wandered In From the Wastes

    Dec 17, 2003
    The great cleansing, she liked the sound to that. It didn't take too long to get the heater running, but thank goodness for pre-war engineering. The grease, the grime, the sins were all washed away and she almost looked innocent.


    Changing donning a white sleevless with Nuka Cola embossed on the front, she grabbed another leather jacket donned it, getting her boots and pants on in no time flat.

    The Beretta 9mm was on the bed along with her tactical shotgun. Grabbing the oily black pistol she looked on the handle.

    Property of the US RANGERS
    Serial #7765-9988822

    It was a gift from Rama's brother after she had made it through training. She smiled, he was such a sweet guy, not cold and aloof like Rama, but yet, he did have Rama's deep sense of honor and commitment. After he died in New York, Edden could see why Rama withdrew from everything else.

    Maybe it was for his brother's sake he looked out for her? Or perhaps it was honor.

    She didn't think her old XO would say anything, not that he ever does. Sighing she holstered the weapon and grabbed the remainder of her arms. One bandeler of .12ga scatter shot and anti-personnel Slug rounds, fifty in all, four clips of 9mm AP rounds and of course: her knives. She picked up the serrated combat knife and the curved dagger she had gotten while trading in the Ville.

    Perhaps when they reach NYC, she, Reik, Stryfe and Wolf could play her favourite game: Whose the Best Killer.

    Stepping outside she met Reik and Wolf and Rama in a corner sleeping, catching his peace while he could.

    "Hey, Reik... Wolf... Thanks for giving a care, Reik. It means alot. And Wolf, thanks for caring, too." She smiled at her two friends, though wishing Eric was around.
  8. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    Occ- ok, so here’s a bit about what the war is about, and a little revelation from Stowe. Finally, something about Spengler and Logan.

    The sex had been good. We had both been on edge for a long damn time, and the sex was a release. Maybe it was something more. In all my time I have yet to figure out women, and I could make little sense of Stowe. There were more attractive men. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was boss.

    Or maybe it was desperation, because she knew what we what this was all about, at least more than I did.

    These things happen, and it's foolish to look into it to far.

    Her head was turned away from me, her long black hair spread out on the pillow, her body still wet with sweat under the sheets. She had been aggressive but serious, even violent. In her usual way.

    I can be a sucker for a woman. It's a weakness that's gotten me in trouble before. Most women, you have sex with and it's just the night, the biological need. It's good enough and the night is over and you go your ways. Most women, knowing what I do, don't want a relationship. It's too much risk. Those who have had wanted to tie me down.

    But it's not my way.

    Most women don't mean much anyway.

    But sometimes, rarely, you get to see something in a woman. You get to look deep into her, and see what's in her soul. Often it's ugly and wounded or damaged. Sometimes there's something fragile and warm there, something beautiful.

    It doesn't happen often, but sometimes.

    And if there's anything that scares me, probably even worse then those Dire hunting gluttons in the warehouse, it's that look.

    Love is irrational, and it makes you do crazy shit and gets you in trouble.

    Stowe was awake. She was facing away from me for a reason. Maybe because she was afraid of what I’d ask. Maybe because she was afraid of what she might say.

    “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” I said.

    “No. It will only complicate things.”

    “Things are already complicated.” I said, let me hand trace her side, touching her skin, feeling her ribs.

    “They’re crazy you know that.” She said. “Both of them. This war. They don’t even know why anymore.”

    “Too much blood spilled to forgive. To much pain to let go. To much fear of looking weak.” I said.

    “Excuses. It’s a habit, that’s all. There is a war because that’s what they know, and they’ve been doing it so long that’s how they live, what they eat. They need to war to survive.” She said, her voice angry.

    “The generals have gotten rich…” I was starting to say.

    “The generals rule because of the war, because they don’t know peace. Because the war makes them powerful. So they continue to fight each other so they, the generals can stay in power.” She said. The frustration and anger in which she spoke merely symptom of the anger she felt inside. “They live in the past, they eat because they kill. They survive on the blood they shed. They’re vampires, ghouls. They are the past that haunts us and controls us.”

    “It’s not all about the past.” I said, my voice trying to be soothing, my hand trying to calm her anger.

    “No, Kilrick, it is. You know. This war, the insanity of it, has reached a new level of madness. They’ve gotten desperate, they feel vulnerable now because the armies are too weak to fight as they once did, because the battle lines are stagnant. Because they could no longer kill each other with the weapons they had, they want new weapons to finish it.” She said, now turning to face me.

    “But if one destroys the other, the war is over. The generals will have to change.” I said. “Maybe, for once, peace.”

    “No, it’s impossible to end the war with victory. Not this way.” Said Stowe, and I could see that she had been crying. “The lines are no longer clear. What used to be Grey and Green, never really were clear distinctions. Those are just concepts, boundaries that the generals used to maintain the differences between us.”

    I had seen enough outside the battle fields to know this. Ethnically and racially, there were no differences between the Greys and the Greens. There were very few differences except who was ruler. But that was heretical. The Greys and Greens defined themselves as two different tribes, two different races, one superior the other inferior. They believed in the difference because those differences sustained the rule of those at the center.

    “If there were lines they are coming apart.” I said.

    “No there were never any lines at all. We were never different to begin with.” Said Stowe. “The notion of racial purity is a myth and always has been. But those at the top don’t believe it. We are all brothers and sisters in one giant feuding family. The war is insane.”

    “But it takes two sides to fight. One side can end it.” I said.

    “That’s the biggest lie of all.” She said.

    She was going to tell me everything. The moment was right that the truth would be revealed.

    And then there was a knock at the door breaking the moment.

    I looked at her, thinking I could hold that moment and ask the question I needed to. But then the knock came again.

    “What?” I said, a bit irritated at the disturbance.

    “The radio. You should hear this.” It was Rama.

    I looked at Stowe but she had turned away.

    I threw on a pair of trousers and a shirt and left the room with Stowe still in bed.

    Outside near the pool, Edwards was working with the radio. Stokes had his fists up, but Jasmin and Deeds had their weapons drawn and were keeping everyone from the radio. Edwards was trying to work the receiver.

    On the radio I could hear static and then the distinct sounds of gunfire, laser fire, plasma, explosions. And the sounds of men dieing.

    “This is Spengler’s Op calling. Over. Spengler’s Op over. We need help here. Crooked Christ we’re all fucked up. The APC is shit. Some one come in. We need help here.” Said the radio operator on the other end.

    Fuck you Deeds, call in the coordinates at least. You can’t just leave them out there.” Said Wolf.

    “Our orders are radio silence.” Said Deeds.

    “Those are Green Grunts getting wasted.” Said Edden.

    “Nothin we can do about that, sister. Just back off.” Said Jasmin.

    Over the radio. The radioman was losing his cool. “They’re all over the fucking place. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Back up! Where the fuck are the Greens. This is their fucking job. Travers got cut in half. We can’t stop them. We need….” The voice was cut off by the sound of laser fire.

    The rest of my crew looked like they would make a move for the radio.

    I got between them. “Deeds is right. Back off. There’s nothing we can do.”

    “They’re dieing out there, Kilrick, We’re note supposed to leave other Salvagers out to die.” Said Reik.

    Edwards was by the radio. “And what can you do. If we went to help them, we’d be in the same fight as they are. If we called in our coordinates, you would be calling their killers to us. That’s why there are two missions. If one fails, it’s up to the second.”

    I nodded. “Edwards is right. We can’t help them now.”

    The radio came on again, and this time I recognized the voice. “Spengler here.” Said the voice. “We got hit near the Putnum 3 aquifer. Got Greys on our ass, but this was bots. Somehow we triggered the system. APC is burnt and most of my team is dead. We are breaking off and dispersing. Hopefully we can reassemble at point 134-256. Don’t come for us. Good luck. It’s a hell of a world.”

    Then the radio gave a loud buzz and then settled.

    My crew shook their heads and slowly moved away. Deeds and Jasmin held their position until confident that the others would make no more fight.

    “So much for Spengler.” Said Deeds.

    “Yeah.” Was all I could say.

    Spengler had something else, that Deeds and Jasmin nor anyone else understood. But since they were keeping secrets, I felt it better to keep one of my own.

    “There’s something else.” Said Edwards.

    We turned to him.

    “While working the radio system I found out that there is a transmission being sent from here.” Said Edwards. “But it’s a strange signal. In some kind of code.”

    “Can you decipher it?” I asked.

    “It’s in some kind of computer language I am unfamiliar with, and it’s real intense. A lot of data.”

    Logan had been listening to the conversation while working with his laptop on some programming. “Hey, it’s not me. I’m not transmitting shit from this laptop. It’s not even wired in.”

    Edwards waved a handheld electronic gizmo over Logan’s laptop. Then over Logan’s gear. Finally he waived it over Logan itself. The gizmo began a series of strange beeps and whirls.

    Edwards shook his head. “No it’s not your laptop, and it’s not a radio. It’s you. Something inside you is sending the transmission.”
  9. SuAside

    SuAside Testament to the ghoul lifespan

    May 27, 2004
    Logan looked unsure. He was not really afraid of the others, whatever they would do to him couldn't be worse than what he had already faced before. But it would mean leaving Sarah alone, in the undescribable cold and dark place... Forever...

    "Deamonicus? No, can't be." Logan whispered. "Maybe the nameless one?" Even the people closest to him barely heard anything.

    Deeds moved in, looking even more threatening than usual. He looked ready to smash up both the laptop and Logan alike. Only Edwards' hand on his shoulder was holding him back.

    "I guess it's time for my shocktherapy. Will you do the honors Edwards?" Logan calmly said, defying Deeds' furious eyes.

    Logan wondered if the shocks would temporary kill of whatever was emitting the codes. If not, he would probably never make it to NY alive. If Spengler got hit by bots, it was probably the work of Deamonicus.

    Bad news all around...
  10. Carib FMJ

    Carib FMJ Nuka-Cola Chaser

    Nov 8, 2003
    Rama walked towards Kilrick. "I say we have maybe half and hour to hold or leave before the three come at us. I only fought with them for a bit, but I know their capabilities. So we have little time to spare. That's my suggestion, but your still captain." Rama gave a smirk, the one few signs of warmth.
  11. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    I nodded. We had no idea how long Logan had been transmitting.

    "Edwards, shock him and tell me if it works. If not, we leave him here." I said. "Logan, sorry. But I can't take any unnecessary risks, and you're becoming a beacon."

    Then to Deeds and the rest. "Let's get going. We got unfriendlies coming and I don't want to be here when they arrive."

  12. Carib FMJ

    Carib FMJ Nuka-Cola Chaser

    Nov 8, 2003
    Rama traded in his AK-47, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. The pre-war assault rifle was manufactured to change the world, to fight for freedom... and to take it away. It was a revolutionary weapon. It was a reminder of his days in the service of the Rangers. The Rangers were founded as neither for the Greys nor the Greens, they were created to aid the people of the Wastes, they didn't delve into the dogma that both sides fed each other. To restore order. But they were forgotten now, a broken remnant of a hope long extinquished by the genetic war of the Grey and Greens. They were scattered. Stryfe could recall a few other survivors: Reno Shiro and Dawn. For all he knew they could be bleached skeletons out in the wasteland or mercs or drunks. Harvey had become a drunk, trying to drown his woes with Flakey and rotgut.

    New York did that to you. Ate you up and spat out you out just before it killed you.

    Giving a sigh, he picked up the Winchester City Killer Combat shotgun. Feeling the weight and placing the ammo load of .12ga Slug rounds into the bullpup, Rama released the safety.

    He was ready to deal out death like a card shark and those replicants were going to get a fight for their money.

    Edden had taken up position, ready to go whenever Kilrick gave the word. So was Stryfe, he was ready to.

    "Ready to take position."
  13. DarkCorp

    DarkCorp So Old I'm Losing Radiation Signs

    Oct 27, 2003
    OOC: Ok I posted this late last night so I didn't fully work out the effects of time and stuff.

    *IFV still tailing Kilrick*

    The hours rolled by as the armored vehicle slowly inched ever closer towards Kilricks position.

    By now the soldiers had gotten used to Erics presence and were discussing the circumstances of their conscription.

    "So Kezlowski, what made you join this chicken shit outfit?"

    "My parents died from a strange illness a few days after my twentieth birthday. With little training and few supplies, I was sure I would die. But fate smiled at me two days later when a large caravan passed by my shack. Realising that I had nothing, they welcomed me into their group and told me a fascinating tale. There were rumors that the sons of surviving soldiers had made their way towards a place called Luke. Supposedly, the old timers had managed to fix the place up as best they could and created a small town. And so with this hope in mind, we were to travel to this great place and hopefully find a new life for ourselves. Alright, I spilled the beans and now its your turn Rolins.

    "Well mine is a lot less dramatic but a heck of a lot stranger. Although I never experienced vault life, my parents told me about it. Here comes the strange part, now get this. As soon as the vaults radiation sensors gave the all clear signal, all the computers started to malfunction. Within a few hours, the whole place was fucked and we had to leave with the few weapons and provisions the vault had been stocked with. Anyways, one of those soldiers you mentioned before Kezlowski, my grandfather was one of them. He and his friends taught their sons some of the basics of combat and eventually, told them about the old base. A few years later, the new generation was old enough to lead the rest of the survivors to the installation near the wrecked city of Glendale. From there on, they did the best they could and it thrived. My father then met my mother, I was born, and I joined the defense forces when I was 18. Ok, whos next huh?"

    A man by the name of Harris raised his hand and began speaking.

    "Well my parents were part of Kezlowskis group. When they arrived at the base, they told me they had vowed to do their best to earn their keep. My dad immediately enlisted in the fledgling defense forces and my mom worked as a nurse and a cook. As I grew up, my dad never could stop lecturing me about how fortunate they were and how it was a mans duty to defend his home. Well I saw the truth in his words and felt it was my responsibility to pay back what was offered to both my parents and me. A soon as I reached enlistment age, I joined up."

    Eric was enjoying the stories until the soldiers attention shifted to him.

    "And what about you? If the boss knows you, then you must have an interesting tale to tell?"
  14. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    We had the rig loaded and ready when the first Grey APC turned a corner. It was a good thing that Jake had the engine running.

    "Everyone in!" I yelled.

    The first shells fell on the house, three mortar rounds that took out a wall on the otherside of the house.

    Everyone in I looked back to check and saw the three friends of Logan emerge out of the woods. Certainly this was a good time to leave.

    "Jake go!" I yelled.

    Jake hit the pedal and we flew down the driveway and out.

    The first Grey APC had been joined by a second. Deeds poured on .50 cal fire at the armored vehicle as Jasmin fired off a rocket launcher round. Behind us the road exploded and filled with tracer rounds as the Grey guns tried to follow the fast moving Rig. Trees and buildings exploded, but nothing hit us. Edden and Rama were blasting away.

    Jasmin's rocket hit the front end of the lead APC, stopping it in a cloud of smoke. It wasn't destroyed, just immobilized, but that was enough.

    Jake turned the rig the other way and ran it recklessly down the other street. We had turned a corner and the Greys had ceased firing.

    I looked back at where we had come, expecting to see pursuit. But there wasn't anything back there.

    Jake, behind the wheel, "Where to."

    I climbed into the cockpit and told him. I pointed to a spot on the map. The Gothals Bridge and Bayonne Bridge.

    "We're using a bridge?" Asked Jake.

    I shook my head. First we had to lose our tails.
  15. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    We drove for better part of a day, moving South, as if going for the Delaware Bridge or to Atlantic City, before going West in to Penn and back North, a big buttonhook.

    I had a feeling that the Greys knew where we were going. Perhaps they even knew why we were going there. But they didn't know how and they couldn't resist the temptation to go after us. We had only one option, avoidance. In a standup fight, we had little chance, our thinly armored rig would be cut to shreds by the Grey guns. But they just lacked the numbers to encircle NYC.

    Even so, I wanted to be careful. There were no scouts, as the scouts would have left a signature. Jake had been careful with the mufflers to limit the amount of sound if they were listening to us.

    The closer we got to NY the more risky it got because it got easier to pull an ambush.

    But there were other risks too.

    NYC's defense grid was layers. For over 30 miles around NY, sensors had been planted to pick up intruders. It was like an electronic no-man's zone and no one knew exactly the kinds of sensors NYC had envisioned. All we knew was that if we tripped one, the sentry bots would be sent to collect our skulls. The closer we got, the thicker the sensors, the more likely the sentry bots, nasty hovertanks that fired plasma, would come after us.

    It was similar to moving through radioactive hot spots. In hotspots you triangulated using a geiger counter to tell if you were moving closer or away from danger zones. Around NYC we used electronic trace scanners.

    When NY had been hit during the big one, most of the electrical systems had been blown out by EMP, which literally created a new dark age. Eventually the lights came back on in NY, but slowly. The electronic grid had to be rebuilt from the ground up, slowly spreading from Manhattan like a giant spider web. It's job was to catch and trap intruders so that the spider's fangs could drink their blood.

    But the grid emits low levels of radiation and residual energy. Using precise sensors one could tell where the wiring was most of the time. It would allow us to know where the strands of the web were, and so how to get around it.

    But it was hardly foolproof. NYC had evolved quickly, creating new systems and new safeguards. Even our stuff was fairly obsolete. It had been two years since I had been to NYC, and no one really knew what kinds of countermeasures the city had generated since.
  16. DarkCorp

    DarkCorp So Old I'm Losing Radiation Signs

    Oct 27, 2003
    *IFV closing in on Kilrick*

    At first Eric was apprehensive about revealing his past. But then he realised that being an ass to the very people who were trying to protect him wouldn't exactly be fair.

    "I only learned a little about my folks pasts. From what I can remember, my grandfather had connections and managed to get his family assigned to one of the vaults in northern arizona. When the vault doors finally re-opened, the survivors formed a makeshift community which slowly grew over time. I was then.........."

    The asians story was cut short as the vehicle quickly slowed down and then stopped. We all had questions but the sargent was busy listening to his earpiece, no doubt receiving an update from the vehicle commander.

    After a few minutes of silence, the non-com re-placed the headset on the wall and proceeded to brief everyone on the situation.

    "Well fellas I got good news and bad news. The good news is we are close enough to Kilrick to sight him with our binoculars. The bad news is that they are being pursued by the strange men and the grey faction the boss informed us about. The commander plans to have us go through here (points to a small canyon about a mile parallel to the mercenary teams vehicle). While we stay undetected by their pursuers, Eric will radio a coded message to his teammates in regards to a safe meeting point. After that, we allude any potential pursuers and head back to HQ".

    Both Eric and the men agreed that this would be the best method of completing the mission and so the IFV roared back with the men inside intent on completing their mission.
  17. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    The smart salvager doesn't personally utilize violence to get what he wants. The salvager who goes about his business with guns blazing normally has a short life.

    The reasons are simple- every time you get into a gunfight, there is that chance that one bullet will drop you dead. Death is bad for business. It's also bad for your reputation. People won't deal if you might shoot 'em or end up dead.

    The goal of salvaging is to grab the goods and get paid. Avoiding gunfights is therefore a better policy than preferring gunfights. Since violence is inherently risky, one needs to use one's head to minimize risk. Always pack as if you need it, but try not to be placed in the position where you got to go to the heat. The wise salvager usually can avoid violence.

    It is the smart salvager who gets the goods without anyone even knowing he was there. To blend in and out, to grab what you need and evade, to not trip wires, to circumvent security, to go where they don't expect you- those are the best strategies. Sometimes you sneak in. Sometimes if the item is already on the market you make a good bargain or you force a negotiation to go your way.

    If you are going to sneak into a heavily defended and secured position, the smart thing to do is not to trip the security system so the deathbots are kept sleeping. It's not unlike being a good thief. You slip through the window without triggering the alarm, then you close the window and you reset the alarm. And ideally they never know you came and went, or at least when they do, you're long gone.

    Sometimes you respond to the circumstances and when you can, you force the circumstances to respond to you.

    We were being followed.

    It was pretty clear that at least two groups were tailing us. There was another group out there as well, but I had yet to figure them out. COuld be mercs working for the Greys. Could be another interested party. Life is full of probables- you take your best chances.

    We were being watched.

    So we moved to a heavily urban area and hid the rig in an old garage. Jake rigged a surprise under the hood if someone got too nosey. Then we moved in on foot.

    We were getting in close. The big rig would trip alarms. Sometimes you need to move on foot. We left what we didn't need and took only the necessities. Truth was, I didn't think we'd return to it.

    But big groups can cause you problems as well. I was worried someone would trip an alarm if only by tripping over a wire. So I moved the group down and over, using the wasted urban landscape for cover, until I found a spot they could hold up. I told them to be quiet and wait. I would be back in a day.

    I needed to scout. More importantly, I needed to divert or tails. I also wanted to learn about the security grid.

    So using the elaborate tunnel systems of New Jersey we moved on towards the Gothails bridge, which spans from New Jersey into Staten Island. The bridge was not the finally entry point. One would still have to get through Staten Island and perhaps the Verzanno Narrows Bridge to just get to Brooklyn. But from Brooklyn there were a number of points of entry. Gothails was just a bottleneck, a defense line.

    Movement was slow and careful. A few routes were mined. IN a couple of areas we found tripwires, vid cams, microphones. No one could speak least we trip a microphone. At one point we thought about going underground, but found the way monitored with new light sensors. Heat sensors were carefully avoided and we covered ourselves with cold mud to help hide our bodies.

    But the grid is difficult to maintain. Gear breaks down and sometimes it is difficult to get repairs done. Twice we say repair bots scurrying about trying to fix a broken line or piece of equipmnent. Three times we say securitybots patrolling nearby and had to find a place to hide. One we heard the reports of lazer fire. At one point we found the bodies of a group of thieves or escapees that had been charred and burnt by lazer fire.

    It took longer than I had imagined it would, but by afternoon we had gotten close enough to the bridge. New Jersey had been an industrial shipping point, and there was little difficult finding a working truck among the vehicles that remained.

    Leaving Jake to do the needed repairs on the truck, I scouted a path up to the bridge itself, searching for monitors, trips, sensors. Where possible I took the grid off line, in others I tried to mask their readings.

    New materials, new equipment. All of it made for a greater challenge. Most of the stuff I had never seen before. Like defusing a bomb that you are unfamiliar with, you take your time and be very careful with the wires.

    I got as close as I could before I stopped. Gothails would not be our entry point. There was a safer way. I just wanted doing a recon and creating a diversion.

    When I doubled back I found that Jake had finished with the rig and refueled it. We mapped the trail I had laid. We thought it through and tried to see if all the bases were covered. The big truck looked like our rig and Jake had rigged up a jammer. Perhaps we could fool them. A lot rided on the jammer.

    When we were as ready as we could be, Jake drove the Rig out of the yard and down the path I had marked off. He would be throwing sensors soon.

    The truck was an angry growling beast, and it seemed anxious to cause destruction after sleeping so long. But it was too loud. We were still coming around the big curve to the bridge when the first security bots showed up.

    The size of hover cars, armored and studded with weapons and antennae, like some horrific insects.

    Jake hit the jammer.

    It didn't work.

    He quickly changed frequency and jammed it again.

    The security bots seemed to lose position, began to fall to the side or land with a crash.

    But soon they were up and buzzing again.

    Jake changed the frequence and hit them again, but not before they got off a few shots, more warning than not, to stop us. Jake hit the gas.

    Again, the bots were shaken by the electrical attack. We were screwing up their coding processes within their digital minds by confusing signals sent from the home base. But they were adjusting faster than I had seen the bots ever do before.

    Jake dropped the gas down and bailed out of the rig as it went barrelling down the road on a direct course. He had been wearing padding so when he bounced on the pavement, the damage was minimal. Then he turned and scurried back to where the rest of us were hiding.

    The Rig was getting hits now, but they didn't stop it. With a resounding crash it broke through toll booths an began climbing the narrow bridge, bounching off the concrete dividers and the metal girders until finally, near the top of the bridge, one shot forced the rig to a side. It seemed to climb up a divider and then crash on it's side. Soon it was on fire, and then it exploded in a bright orange ball of flames.

    Jake didn't stay and watch, but double back the way I had come up. He was under the highway as the other bots came up and began to investigate and look for survivors. But the truck was burning bright, leaving a tall plume of smoke into the air.

    WIth luck this would attract our pursuers and thus bring them into the NYC security web, where they might get caught and killed.

    The smart salvager doesn't use violence. He let's others use violence for him.
  18. DarkCorp

    DarkCorp So Old I'm Losing Radiation Signs

    Oct 27, 2003
    occ- Minor edit here- the weapons on the Greys are auto-cannons and .50 mgs.- welsh. How did anyone get a beacon on us at Tappezee when the rig was pretty well guarded? And Jake didn't spot this when he was doing repairs? Not sure if this is right, but ok.

    *IFV enroute towards the rig*

    Erics escort group knew they were much closer to completing their mission now. Under ideal circumstances, they would all be thinking about heading to the nearest burg to restock on supplies and enjoy the numerous town "amenities" after task completion. But so far, this mission was nothing close to what the men had hoped for. The beginning was smooth sailing but as they got ever closer to completing their objective, more and more problems began making themselves known.

    Only thirty minutes ago, the commander had informed the soldiers that they were now sharing the same area with possible hostile forces. This was further backed up by the reception of an emergency transmission from another merc team hours earlier. The "Greys" as they were designated, had a mixture of both recon (armed with 30 mm cannons and 50 cal machine gun) and heavily armed (some even boasting 120mm cannons) troop carriers. Soldier armament was also assumed to be heavy ranging from energy weapons to an assortment of machine guns and assault rifles. As if this wasn't bad enough, the other group of hostiles were tough sons of bitches too. After studying the data from Kilricks encounter, the colonel realised that even the most up to date weapons had little to no affect on the strange figures.

    All this weighed heavily on the mens thoughts as the IFV continued on its clandestine mission. The beacon placed on Kilricks vehicle back at the Tappanzee bridge was at first stationary for quite some time until it suddenly went dead. The only option left available was to follow the transmission to its last known source.

    By now the men had been getting tired. Since they were inside hostile territory, the soldiers had to remain alert most of the times with very few instances of sleep. Erics eyes were already drooping when all of a sudden a strong jolt hit the IFV. A few seconds, muffled weapons fire could be heard as the vehicle started to pick up speed.

    "What the hell is going on sarge", one of the men asked.

    "Damnit, looks like we were discovered by a grey recon unit. Commander says its packing a modified plasma cannon so our only option is to outrun it."

    A second blast landed near the IFV and gave it another shake. As if it was angered, the IFVs chain gun roared to life as it sent hundreds of 25mm rounds back at the grey vehicle in a defiant gesture of vengeance.

    "Damnit I hope we get out of this.........."

    Kezlowski couldn't finish his sentence as a glanced plasma shot dug itself through the vehicle armor and turned him into jelly.

    "Kezlowskis dead", the sergeant reported to the commander.

    More plasma shots narrowly missed the IFV as the chain gun continued to spit hot lead towards its determined pursuer. Thankfully a few swerves later, a loud crash could be heard from behind. A few AP rounds had managed to tear their way through the front side armor of the grey recon unit and had turned the driver into ground beef.

    After a good hour of travel, the IFV was forced to make a small stop. The men had to get rid of their former compatriots remains and step out to assess the damage.

    "Looks like we arn't as lucky as we thought. Look here (the commander pointed to an area slightly under the main gun). They hit our generator unit and we only have enough juice to recharge a few cells and make it to the beacons location. If we don't find your friends upon arrival, we have no other choice then to look for them and another way back home.

    Both the men and the asian had wearied looks on their faces. But now was not the time to stand idle or mourn the dead. The Greys would have reported their last known position and more re-enforcements would be searching for them.

    "All right people, I want those cells recharged ASAP. While we wait sergeant, I want you unpack our portable launchers in case some un-wanted guests show up".

    "Understood sir."

    And so the men all began tending to their assigned duties. Silently, Eric was hoping they wouldn't have to use the rockets that rested on the side of the vehicle.
  19. Carib FMJ

    Carib FMJ Nuka-Cola Chaser

    Nov 8, 2003
    Rama looked from his position at Kilrirck flank, the COmbatshotgun ready, some anti-personnel flachette rounds ready as well as convential slug rounds.

    The bots had responded quickly, and it seems over the years they had gotten much better. Even five years ago they were formidable, now they seemed to have evolved.

    "Whats the move, Kil?" Stryfe asked, his eyes scanning the dark streets, spying a few dead bodies. Possible salvagers who made it far but not far enough.
  20. welsh

    welsh Junkmaster

    Apr 5, 2003
    Rama was watching the robots, but I was watching our tail.

    Jake had rewired the beacon to give off false signals. He had done an electronic scan on the rig to see if there were any unusual readings. It hadn't been hard to find, and to play with. The beacon had been sending a false signature that bounched off targets 60 miles away, and moved it around as we had moved. It was a temporary fix, eventually our tails would have figured out that we were bouncing their signal. So figuring our time had run out, we put it on the truck.

    Damn if I knew how they had tagged us, but we could use their tech against them. Now the beacon was on the truck burning on the bridge. If the bots worked hard enough, they would uncover the beacon. Maybe they would figure out what it was, but more likely they would track the signal back to the receiver.

    ANd if the bots were after someone else, that meant that they couldn't put to much attention to us.

    I watched the vehicle that followed us. They were fighting it out with the Greys. But the enemy of my enemy need not be my friend. Who ever they were, they were following us. That made us more visible.

    It might have been Eric. The Asian had disappeared back at the bridge. But if it were Eric, he might have been captured and tortured. He might have turned against us, if unwillingly. If it were Eric, he would have to get back on his own.

    What's the move?

    "We move our wards." I said. "I don't like these tails. And the Greys are close. So we relocate and move on to the next target."

    "We're abandoning the rig?" Asked Jake.

    "For now. Too much heat on the Rig. We go back, we might get burnt. And the rig is not essential for the job." I said.

    "Nice set of wheels. Shame to give it up after I put so much sweat into it." Said Jake. He had worked on the rig and it was a shame to give it up. But the truth was any vehicle would throw off a signature and attract attention. We needed to slip in unnoticed, not draw a crowd.

    "Maybe we can come back for it when the job is done." I said. "Rama, you and the others need to upgrade your weapons. Flechette might be good against soft armor targets, but against the bots those shells are about as effective as throwing stones."

    "What's the next target?" Asked Rama.

    I preferred to play my cards close by we were near enough now. "The Bayonne bridge. THe bridge is part of the lower New York electric rail circuit. There's a hard target there we need to take off line. We take it out and we disconnect a significant part of the lower NY railway grid. And that would open the gate for us."

    We would move our people then go to the next bridge.
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