Normally, Hudson would be making jokes, but when automatic fire was shredding everything just molecules over his head, his ability to snark was significantly reduced. Instead, his focus was just on making himself, and by extension, Abram, sink as completely into the frozen Earth as possible. He silently cursed himself for even getting into this kind of predicament.

[i]Five hundred caps really isn't worth all this, is it?[/i]

Just as suddenly as it began, the turrets wound down. The mechanical whirring slowed, and finally there was mostly silence across the valley. It took a moment for Hudson to realize that he probably wasn't going to die here, and so he risked a look, peering out over the berm.

The guns had moved back into a stationary position, and it looked like the coast was finally clear.

Hudson's impromptu mattress groaned.

"Well shit, Hudson..." The ghoul grumbled, pushing the merc off of himself and rolling out of the non-unimpressive indentation they'd made in the dirt. "At least buy a guy some dinner first."

"Come on Abram," Hudson grinned, pulling up to a crouch and picking up his rifle.  "I thought you ghouls liked rough foreplay."

They both glanced about, making sure not to be spotted, and Abrams took the lead, making his way further up above the valley, staying in the brush.

"So what are you doing here?" Asked Hudson in a hushed tone. The ghoul turned back, a bit of chiding in his voice.

"How about we get out of here, then you tell me just what the hell's going on, eh?"

Hudson nodded.

The two continued further, eventually making their way out of what they assumed was the facility's attack range, before finally standing up. Hudson placed his pack and rifle on the ground and stretched his back, swearing he could hear a snap or two as a couple of his vertebrae clicked themselves back into place.

"You know, you're not a comfortable body pillow," said Hudson, twisting his torso and rolling his neck. In doing so, he glanced at his pack.

Right through the transmitter was a shiny silvered slag hole, evidence of a plasma round which had blasted clean through it.

[i]Damn it![/i]

He turned to Abram.

"So, I'll be honest - I don't know what's going on down there. I'm here on Imperial freelance, only. They wanted some southland scouts at five-hundred caps for a two-week contract. Whoever these magic pop-up facility assholes are, I'm sure the Tinsui would pay even more to know they're here, but..."

He indicated the slagged transmitter.

"But with the transmitter busted, the closest Imperial scouting station is about fifty miles north of here."

Hudson turned back to Abram.

"Did you get the same job? Or are you on the Coalition for this one?"