Alfhedil

Fallout: Into the Storm

Khaliya, The Swordwind

December 3rd, 2286
The Bunker

The war table lay before her, holographic buildings raised from the screen in a simulacra of the city beyond. Numerous angry lights blinked across between, above and inside in some places. Two years of survival was right there mapped out before her. It was more than that to her though, and to the people she had brought with her into this hellscape. Information. The one thing that decided the fate of expeditions like this, and what she had right there in her hands now. Armann had provided her with plenty as they agreed. Soviets holding not just the block the Consulate sat upon, but several other key strategic points between there and a listing destroyer at the waterfront. Attrition had worn them from what he posited was a couple thousand before the war to perhaps a couple hundred, but it was still far more than his meager squad could handle on their own, and more than her own group could handle.

Another serious threat presented itself to them in the form of what he had referred to as "Gargoyles". First she had thought it to simply be a winged deathclaw, but it seemed to be so much more than that. The creature appeared to be native to the Necropolis, and specifically the southern regions as Armann and his squad observed during patrols. Rarely did they approach the wall or range this far north at all, but a few roaming packs of feral ghouls had wandered this way and with the sounds of combat they were drawn to fresher prey. Taking shelter inside the bunker would keep them out of their claws for a while, but it was clear they would be a persistent threat.

Farther south and nestled against The Mangle was the more expected of the city. Supermutants, and in their hundreds. Their first few patrols that close to the former high-rise districts had been cautious and wide-ranging as the colonies of the supermutants seemed to spread all around the western flanks of the city. Of course, it was assumed they hunted beyond that region, and Armann had put down a few markers close to the waterfront where it was thought they encountered resistance.

Yet the one singular presence in the city which had seemed to surprise him most of all was the scattering noted by simple black E's across the entire city. Enclave. Not even Maxson was as foolish as to believe the Enclave had truly been defeated, understanding that the remnants after Adam's Air Force Base had likely scattered and regrouped at other bases. Though Armann pointed out what looked to be dozens of patrols at key points, there were few points of confirmed conflict.

"We have somewhat of an understanding." He explained, looking entirely unsatisfied with the mere utterance of the phrase. As he told it, they first encountered the Enclave in the city mere weeks into their mission, and as expected shot first. The very brief contact left those in black down a man, and his squad on the run as reinforcements began to route on them. A few days later they had run into another patrol, and though the air was tense, the commander gave them a clear signal.

"Do not interfere, and we will not fire. We will not pursue."

Since then the squad had given them a wide berth, avoiding where they saw the patrols and marking fortified areas. A warehouse here, former checkpoint there, and it was clear that the Enclave was not only active in the city but engaged in a losing battle to contain and remove threats. Neither of them could really agree on how to look at that, Armann seeing it as a sort of fitting end to their organization that they be stuck in the ruins of this city in a never-ending war. She had disagreed with him, but didn't press the matter. If he couldn't see that the best ally they may have in this hellscape was a former enemy, then she would have to work to convince him at a time when she didn't need his cooperation as well.

"Well, let's see what you have on these people."

At his request she brought up the first of the files. Two names came up on the table as the cityscape disappeared and were replaced with what looked to be long-distance recon photos.

"Monika Weiss and Bailey De Lara, both from the Commonwealth and affiliated with a group known as the Gunners." A lie, and a bold one at that. Jeremiah had enough wits about him to get the hint that there was more to Bailey than she let on, but if Armann knew, then it would merely embolden the men into an action that would remove important skills and firepower from their group. "From what my source was able to gather, the former has been a native of the former Boston area for some years, after fleeing from the West."

"NCR that bad out there?" Armann scoffed, unaware of some of the more recent trends in the region.

"Caesar's Legion, actually. Recent intel from out west has made us aware of a significant raider group that has rallied together under the banner of the bull and scorched hundreds of miles. This Monika managed to escape slavery at their hands and once here on the East coast made a new life for herself. She's noted as being a skilled combatant in mid to close quarters, and a decent enough shot at that."

"Anyone can read off assessments, and merc groups like these 'Gunners' are notorious for puffing out their chests and boasting."

Khaliya shrugged, indifferent to his dismissal as she knew that he cared about as much for the varied mercenaries of the wasteland as he did for her. Which was at last assessment, very little. What he had concerned himself to though, was the character of the individual, so she switched track and shifted to the next page of her files on both women.

"Well, unlike the former Talon Company, this group isn't quite as malicious and has on several occasions actually defended settlements from raiders. They've got their bad seeds for sure, but these two from what information I can gather, are not among them. Neither is particularly trusting, but they've got solid morals and can be relied upon."

At this he nodded, seeming content enough with the first of their group. A few more names, more slides of page after page of tediously crafted information to present as ideal a case as possible to what she knew would be a hard sell. Three of their number who had been raiders before now presented as outcasts from an outfit down to the south. Doctor with severe addictions to med-x and psycho? She told the tale of a man tortured in The Pitt and forced to sew up his tormentors. Each one she wove a sweet lie that had just enough truth to it that just that one glancing look was enough to confirm what she told.

"John Delaware." She presented this member of their group on his own, reams of data pooling around the image at the center. Years of information meticulously gathered and put together to present the profile of a detective seemingly hand-picked for the job. "Also from the Commonwealth like De Lara and Weiss, though he's a little more low-profile. His name isn't quite as out there as Valentine, but not for lack of skill or experience."

Armann stared at the profile before him, hands pressed against the edge of the table as his grey eyes narrowed. There was a lot there, detailed reports of investigations closed, encounters in various settlements, first-hand descriptions and more. In fact, there was an almost absurd amount of detail presented, and as he looked it over Khaliya could see already that he had taken in enough to have an idea of the man. "And your opinion on him? Seems as if you two have worked together before."

"We have, several times." She said without hesitation, hand moving across the screen to present a pair of heavily doctored picts showing herself and the investigator in the field. "As you may have heard, a group calling itself The Institute has long plagued the Commonwealth to the north, and Delaware has a bit of a specialty in dealing with cases involving them. As part of a nominal expedition to the Commonwealth in '83 I was tasked with getting a more… On the ground perspective of the region. My first step was looking into the local myths, major settlements and active factions if any. From my subtle questioning, I was led to John Delaware as an expert of sorts dealing with the mysteries of the Institute."

"He's got the skills to find people and things, no matter where they've gone, so it's no surprise that he was selected for this mission by the Pariah. Don't let the brooding fool you though, I can assure you that the man has morals. John is many things, but he's not a killer." She took a moment to skip through the last few of their group, passing over Prism as they both knew of her quite well, and some other rather familiar faces. At last there was merely the Legionnaire whose presence was undeniable and distinct. Here at least she was thankful that the distance between here and the Legion was great enough that Armann had to rely on what information she had.

"This one, he's from that Caesar's Legion? Why should we allow him to remain in the bunker and not order him to march into the rain without a suit?"

That was an excellent question, and had he not been selected as the others had been, then she would had agreed with him. Yet there was a purpose for him being among the group, just like there was for everyone else and she needed to come up with something and quick. "He was, in all fairness." Khaliya began, scrolling through the files and coming up with the most recent entry. "My informant does say that he's not quite like the others, however. While most of his group tend to be little more than better disciplined raiders, Servius appears to actually believe in the goal of the Legion."

"What? To burn the wasteland and establish a raider's paradise?"

"No, actually. The Legion is ruthless yes, and oftentimes burns entire settlements to the ground to make a point, as well as takes and trades in slaves, but there's a method to them. Life for their people can be argued to be better than that within the NCR or out in the wastes, and they are quite efficient at what they do. At the very least, they don't suffer from the same rampant corruption within the many attempts at revived democracy, and can actually maintain a state. For how long, that can't really be said as it is a cult of sorts centered around their leader, and tends to frown upon the active cultivation of knowledge and a reliance of technology."

"This Servius though, he's got a wit about him that marks him as unique among the group. My informant… She mentioned that she has seen in him a remarkable strength of character, an unwillingness to stoop to the same depravities as the rest of his kind, and a true desire to rise above. Such is why, when Caesar died and the Legion faltered, he went east at her insistence and was to make a better life for himself here on the East Coast."

Silence followed as she ended the display, withdrawing the cable connecting her to the table and letting the holoscape of the city crackle back into place. Icons rotated here and there, a green glow illuminating Armann's face as he thought on all that she had spoken of. At last it was time to end the briefing and a solemn nod communicated as much. Both walked quietly back towards the main room, where she could smell food cooking, a scent that seemed bereft of the innate radiation soaking the city beyond and perhaps even actually filling. Just within sight of the others though, near where Servius and Monika had been about to face off, he stopped.

"How is it that your informant was able to get this far east and convey that information to you, if that group is as much as you say?"

For a moment, Khaliya considered the group before her. While they had been briefing each other and getting up to speed, already they all seemed to be mingling and getting along for the most part. All except the obvious outliers, but even they seemed to be tolerating things at least. It was as she was hoping, a bit of shelter and hot food able to cool the tensions that were innate in a mixed group as theirs, and sure to flare before long. At least with this moment, they could soothe such things before they became an issue.

"He saved her from them, and in return she swore to save him."

---

Remaining quiet as a few others had done, one in particular took a keen interest in the more prominent members of the group. Her eyes settled first on the paladin lurking in the corner who looked as if ready to intervene in case of any altercation that may arise. It could easily be assumed that not only could the man do so easily, but it would not be hard to guess whose side he would be swinging for. As she undressed from the hazmat suit and the red talons across her black combat fatigues were brazenly displayed for all, she saw the tilt of his helm towards her and her singular compatriot left. Most certainly it would not be either of them, bad blood still lingered despite 2279 and their ultimatum. How it would have pleased her on any other day to stick one of her knives between the joints of his armor and watch as he bled to death inside, but there was a mission of critical importance.

That mission even now was in danger, not just by the threats beyond the walls of the bunker, but by the ones who had been called to participate. The demolitions expert, one of her own, very nearly got himself and the entire group killed before they even stepped foot on the streets of the city, and the paladin with them had a mission of his own to end a war that had been decided for almost a decade. Speaking of which, there was a woman nearby who caught her attention. Sitting apart from the rest, purposefully so even, was Bailey. "Shit." Her first thought as she caught the looks she was giving the rest of the group, especially the Brotherhood. One of them was giving a rather deadly stare in return, Jeremiah. He was going to be an issue before long, and she much preferred that it was dealt with as diplomatically as possible. That would be a discussion with their team-leaders, but for now she had to do what she swore not to before things got out of hand.

Prism steadily made her way over to where Bailey sat on the floor, dropping her hazmat suit to her side opposite the woman and kneeling down with her rucksack. While her hands moved as if to strip her pistol and clean, her eyes focused forward at the brick and her lips barely moved.

"Ares 4-1-H."

Before Bailey could react to her codename spoken aloud, even under her breath in a whisper, a hand slipped from the slide of the pistol before her in a clear sign not to. All around them the others seemed too engrossed in the smell and sound of cooking, perhaps the first hot meal in a long time for many, and from what she could see at least it seemed to be a damn fine one. There were those who were too good at what they did to risk it though, of particular the detective, the legionnaire and the paladins.

"P-6-T. A proper greeting can wait, you need to sheathe your talons. In five you will be requested to suit up and take watch above. Accept the request, I will brief you in thirty on the roof. Once we have the package, P-4-E will make contact and relay orders from Titan. Until then, we are under protocol Falling Leaves, so do play nice and stop thinking what I know you're thinking."

And without another word or even a glance at her, Prism stood and headed over to where Finn and the others had gathered, her bag still on the floor.

Heroes Reborn: Year Six (OPEN)

Downtown, Central City
February 14th, 22:40

He had a point on that front. With more and more powered people coming out over the last few years, a good number chose to monetize their gifts. Some more successful than others, like Arsenal himself and a couple others as opposed to the numerous failed attempts. At least most simply found the hero life too expensive. She still wondered why it was that Grim never led with that approach. Being a college student was hard enough, but trying to be a hero at the same time as balancing studies and a part-time job? Whew, if she didn't have super-speed she would have had to drop the hero gig a long time ago.

"Hey, at least you got some entertainment value. Pop a couple of arrows, some trickshots here and there, maybe even get into a good brawl~" At that she did a bit of a mock fighting stance, rocking down a little lower and bringing her fists up before laughing it off. "Me, just zoom in, cuffs on and job's done. That and with the whole super-speed thing, not only would runtime on videos be pretty short, but the angles would be awful."

And just as she was starting to ramble about filming techniques, he brought up another very valid point. It was rather late in the evening, closing in on eleven actually. A quick glance at the small watch in the cuff of her glove confirmed that as well as another rather awkward piece of information that she would just keep to herself for the time being. She had enough trouble with missing the start time of her own stream.

"Ah, it is pretty late. Though being fast helps a lot in getting home in time for a lot of things, unless of course you miss recording times for your vlog."

Verra was just about to take off, but the potential for a little bit of mischief never was something she liked to miss out on. That and along with striking her as cute in his own way, he had been nice enough to stay and chat for a bit and relieve some of her boredom. Well, she also didn't quite get the chance to meet up with the others all that often anymore, so there was that. In that brief moment he brought out his phone, starting to angle it for that perfect selfie angle with them both, she tapped into the speedforce. All the world slowed around her, electricity coursing through her veins and charging her with a rush of energy. A single second spanned to minutes, then slowed even more as she could hear the inevitable click and whirr of the camera mechanism.

She closed the distance as casually as if the world hadn't stopped around her, coming in close to press her face right next to his and give that trademark wink that graced the covers of so many front-page articles. A single click and then she was gone as if never there, only a rush of static surrounding where she had been and leaving only the faintest of afterimages that faded just as soon as he would look to his side. Off in the distance a trail of lightning showed where she was already speeding off to home, miles away and disappearing to sight. What he was left with was not just the selfie but a little more. Fluttering in the wind was an index card, the edges singed from friction burns and on one side was a note.

- Next time call first, we'll make a date of it~ V.

Heroes Reborn: Year Six (OPEN)

Downtown, Central City
February 14th, 22:40

"Oh yeah, I totally knew that. Actually have your stream on record back home, would have been watching it already but was a little held up with non-hero things."

Quite a lot of them if she was being honest with herself. College papers, hanging around with her friends after class, trying not to die of boredom during lectures… She would much prefer to be back at her apartment than out on a chilly rooftop in mid-february, but it wasn't everyday that she actually ran into another hero. If she remembered right, it had been quite some time since her last team-up, though this hardly counted as one. Her lips pulled into a smile as she watched Arsenal shift about on the rooftop, putting a little bit of distance between them as if not wanting to be too close, all the while his body-language and mannerisms said very much the opposite. It was a little endearing.

"I do a bit of that myself to be honest, well not as me but as me if you get what I mean. Really more of a vlog and a hobby to be fair, but a little bit goes a long way. Actually started as a class-project at first, a way to get some proper experience in the field and learn a little by doing. Kept it going afterwards for the cash, alongside my part-time job and a few other things. Gotta eat, and keep the lights on at home. Sometimes being a hero isn't great for the wallet, but that's the price we pay, right?"

Fallout: Into the Storm

Khaliya, The Swordwind

December 3rd, 2286
The Bunker

A soft rumble shook the foundations as outside the storm worsened, sheeting rain heard just barely over the din of the generator below and the idle chatter of people settling in. For their group, it was a small reprieve after a rather traumatic entrance into what they had already known to be one of the worst zones on the Eastern Coast. Yet for those three who had made a home of it, this was simply their home, and what happened today was simply another day. She could read it in the lines of his face when Armann glanced back across the empty bunks and the two he had remaining. They were never meant to survive this posting and that they had done so even as shattered as they were was a testament to his leadership, or perhaps the sheer tenacity of each of them.

How it must have weighed upon him to watch as one by one his squad was lost to the city, and only to see more enter willingly in greed or desperation. Khaliya gave him a nod that communicated she was ready for the debrief, gesturing for Jeremiah to remain outside and keep the peace, though it appeared largely unnecessary. Quietly they walked in file towards the vault past several weapon racks and stores of food collected from the nearly untouched ruins beyond. Inside was the squad's impromptu war-room, a large table with a screen in the center to display maps and information to an entire group at once if need be. Armann didn't bother with closing the door, being far enough away from the others that it wasn't needed in order to keep the debrief discreet.

"Alright Khaliya, here's how this is going to work."

Gone was the stoic reservations of before, where there was at least a bond of brotherhood keeping the two amicable enough towards each other. Here in the privacy of the war room, Armann was plain with her, and she was with him. Neither had any love for the other, and the last discussion they had before the Necropolis set the tone quite firmly. Before her across the table was detailed routes that his squad had patrolled through the city, red marks around the Consulate, black closer towards an entire section of the city marked simply as "The Mangle" and other varied indicators noting the varied threats within.

"Considering you're not here on Brotherhood business, and we both know none of those people out there are either, I'm running command on this outfit."

Of course, he was technically the more senior officer and by far more experienced. He had been fighting for the Brotherhood since before she was born and had seen more battles than any human had a right to. That said, she had rank and an attitude already, as her frown indicated. Few things irritated her more than pulling rank, which was why she was loathe to do it herself, but this felt like one of those situations… At least she could have easily done so right there. Yes, she could have shouted him down right then and there, called him out on insubordination and hell, possibly even called his own squad into the room to throw him in a makeshift cell. Brow furrowed in consternation from this unnecessary conflict, she decided to do something he wasn't quite expecting.

"Alright, that's fair."

Just the shrug of her shoulders indicated she wasn't entirely happy about it, but that she was willing to play ball at least a little. Armann's irritated expression softened significantly first by the initial confusion of her relenting, and then by a simple acceptance and shifting into something more professional.

"First things first, I need to know about what kind of people you've brought into my bunker as well as exactly what your mission is. That said, it would be reasonable to expect that you and your people also need a better understanding of the threats within this city.

"We're here as mercenaries of sorts for the Pariah, on route to multiple objectives within the city and to retrieve intelligence on their behalf."

Armann's expression darkened, obviously this was not the first time he had heard the name, nor the first encounter with such a group. She wondered for a moment, thinking to question him further, but hid the smirk as she let the thought drop and would allow things to play out. A glance across her side of the table showed a port for a data cable, typically to link up a pip-boy or a handheld computer. Their scribe must have helped set this up, it showed a fair bit of ingenuity to it that was masked by skilled repairs that weren't quite technical enough to match the original. It would do though, and with a glance over at Armann, she pulled up the sleeve of her uniform jacket covering up her cybernetic arm.

The workings of it had been tinkered with over the years, originally simply a replacement that she had to live with, she felt that a little more utility would do wonders for the recovery process. A cannibalized pip-boy, three feet of cabling and some other items that the scribes went into a fit over once they discovered missing all went together with the original to give her a bit more tactical and strategic flexibility. The cable slid out from a nest of wiring at the core of the forearm, the panel atop it giving a soft glow as she removed the protective cover and woke it up.

"I've got files on most of the group, a bit of recon before joining up with this outfit. Figured it would be useful and just took a bit of investigative work through Brotherhood contacts across the East Coast. First though, tit for tat. We need to know the threats in the immediate area, and are currently en route to the former Soviet Consulate. What can you tell me about it?"

"That it's not going to happen. There's a shitload of ghouls under some asshole named Ivanov controlling the surrounding block and a route to the waterfront."

"Fuck."

Heroes Reborn: Year Six (OPEN)

Downtown, Central City
February 14th, 22:30

Wow, this is a trainwreck. As amusing as his fumbles were, she didn't laugh or even show her own amusement at watching him steadily dig that hole deeper with each passing breath. No, she patiently listened, gave a nod when needed and once he was done she glanced back down to the unconscious mugger.

"Well, I think it's great. More of us should try to stick to less-than-lethal solutions, and it's good of you to look towards that."

A little bit of a morale booster never hurt, and she had a feeling that like many other vigilantes that have come and gone in the last few years, her own activities could have been a bit of an inspiration. It wasn't unusual for people to stop by some of the major "hero cities" as they've come to be called in the hopes of spotting a member of the Justice League. Sure, Lady Arcana tended to literally glow in the spotlight, and Grim had their own sort of cult following over in Gotham. Her own 'fans' tended to be a little more down to earth even if not quite in the same numbers. Likely because even with her gift and the presence of everything else in the world, she still openly and adamantly stuck to her ideals.

Arsenal though. She wasn't expecting him to be among those taking the trip to Central City in hopes of seeing Velocity. Maybe there was more to him than she thought at first, though she still did not approve of his capacity for violence.

"So then Arsenal, now that we're sharing a roof, what's up? By the by, never really figured myself as a brooding over my city in the cover of night kind of girl, but I can sorta see why you guys do it. It's kinda neat up here off the streets."

Heroes Reborn: Year Six (OPEN)

Downtown, Central City
February 14th, 22:30

She had just about taken a full ten steps when instinct alerted her to motion above and behind, the entry of another into the attempted crime. With only seconds before the squeezing of a trigger, she decided it would be more than prudent to take the initiative and stop this before it got out of hand. Time seemed to slow down just for her as she turned, tapping into the speedforce and feeling the electric rush through her entire body as the energy vastly increased her reaction speed. Here and now she could cross vast distances in the blink of an eye, complete multiple tasks seemingly at once, or for this instance… Have all the time she needed to survey the unfolding scene.

From above a man in red was perched atop the nearby roof. Even if she hadn't been rather avid in the pursuit of meta news and the actions of various emerging heroes across the country, she would have recognized this particular vigilante by his choice in weaponry. That and he was one of the few who chose to openly chronicle his actions and sometimes even livestream. Arsenal. Fraction by fraction she watched as he began to pull back at the bowstring, already in the process of loosing an arrow to end what he likely thought of as a direct threat to the life of an innocent.

Since she had the time, she took it to walk back over to the would-be crook, leaning in to peer into the cylinders of the revolver. It wasn't even loaded. Of course, that made sense especially with the hesitance that she had picked up on. The guy really didn't want to do this, but desperate times and chance led to this moment. That meant that her "hero" was about to end someone's life on a false assumption and… Verra paused a moment, relaxing just a fraction to allow the world around her to turn just a little faster. It wasn't a normal arrow.

Of course, she forgot that this one had a particular taste for showing off. It must have been some new arrow that he had come up with. "Alright hero, I'll trust you on this." She made her way back to where she had stood, carefully adjusting her posture and stride. Then everything snapped back into full motion. A heavy thud sounded followed by a body collapsing and the clatter of metal across pavement. With all the skill of one who had done this a few times too many, Verra turned with an expression of shock. Turns out that it really was a non-lethal arrow, the expanded head laying on the ground next to the mugger and his empty piece.

"Th-thanks."

She mumbled the word before taking off on a sprint down the street, making a quick turn towards home as she glanced back at the scene. He must have seen the entire exchange, probably even recorded it. Well that just meant that she had to take care of things for the night. At least she had something to do now, well other than working on something she had done for a year now. It had been a couple days since Velocity took a run through the city anyways, so may as well stretch her legs a bit.

---

Almost as soon as the supposed victim of the attempted mugging had rounded the corner, there was a flash of electricity from the opposite end of the street and a rush of air from beside Arsenal on the roof. The air would feel charged as if a rather significant amount of energy had just been discharged rapidly, and the source would be quite apparent in a hurry. Without need for introductions, the masked speedster heroine hopped up onto the edge of the roof, legs kicking out over the side as she leaned over to review the scene below.

"Wow. Really knocked him out cold, huh."

Heroes Reborn: Year Six (OPEN)

Downtown, Central City
February 14th, 22:20

As if things weren't hard enough, not only had the steady decline in crime since her membership in the Justice League left a rather decent lack of things to do in her off hours, but it was looking like her last few terms of college were going to be exceptionally lackluster as well. Verra did her best to stifle a yawn that was surprisingly mostly due to fatigue from enduring perhaps the least enthusiastic lecturer ever, and from just how late the class ran. She was partially regretting taking the late day slot for that course, now more than ever. At least a few friends were walking with her on their way home, though it seemed they intended to make a stop first.

"Ugh, before tonight I thought that maybe early Indian History could be interesting and full of… I dunno, like intrigue and wars and stuff."

"Yeah, imagine if Mr Tamboli narrated their wars. Might have killed more through boredom than any battle."

"Hey Verra, you coming with us to the club on 5th? It's ladies night so half price shots."

She thought about it for a moment, up ahead was where she needed to turn to get the rest of the way home, but straight ahead was the club. As tempting as it was to unwind for a bit, she had other responsibilities. Besides, not like she could even get drunk anyways thanks to her metahuman abilities. That thought only reminded her how tiresome it could be to act tipsy around her friends, and was quite enough to steer her away.

"No thanks, not tonight. I want to get some work done on my theoretical physics thesis, and I've got that optional lecture for quantum mechanics at eight in the morning."

It was all easy enough for her, but she had never let on just how much so to anyone except her mother. For all her friends knew she was just "gifted" enough to breeze through the easy stuff and had no idea that while she appeared to be deep in thought here and there during exams or tough questions, she was really just daydreaming or working out new designs for her suit. The locket around her neck shifted a little as she turned and paused on the corner, smiling over at the other girls as they grimaced at her workload.

"Jeez, you really should take it easy. You know, most people slack off in their last couple terms and breeze through. I think you're the only one who actually took more courses."

"Well Lisa, have to remember I'm not taking history or science as an extra, they're my primary degrees. Not all of us can rely on their looks alone."

A shared look between them and a long silence followed until it was broken with laughter. Lisa had been a friend of hers for years, since elementary and all she had ever talked about was becoming a fashion model one day. While she and her other friends ribbed her about taking courses on it seriously, it really was just friendly banter.

"Alright, well the rest of us are going to get hammered and try to forget that awful lecture. Try not to have too much fun at home yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll try. See you guys tomorrow at class."

And with that they parted ways. Her friends were soon lost in the bustle of late night Central City and the crowds hitting the clubs along the main streets of downtown. Verra quietly took her own way back, slowly walking along the street and pulling her jacket in closer about herself. Something about late winter in the city always seemed to bring out what she loved about her hometown. The snows hadn't been around for a bit now, but forecast was calling for some later in the week, and she couldn't deny being a little excited about it. At least now that she had some proper ice-shoes. That first winter after she got her powers and the Titan thing was wrapped up… That was fairly rough.

People thinned around her, such as it was that she was heading closer towards the edge of the downtown district and against the flow. It used to be fairly rough on the outskirts when she first got her place in the college housing district. Crime was on the rise, muggings, robberies, the occasional car-jacking or murder. All of that changed once she really started hitting the streets and put people behind bars. Now it was a rarity that any violent crime happened, and for most of the petty stuff she let the police handle it. That was a bit of a mixed bag as it were, on one hand they were happy to have something to do, but there were always people who looked down on vigilantism and that was still what she technically was, even if she did help save the world a couple times.

Lost in her thoughts as she was, she wasn't quite aware of the person following her. It was the click of a hammer mechanism that drew her attention and abruptly away from her day-dreaming. Granted it had been awhile, but with how many times someone tried to pull a gun on her, she had gotten rather used to the sound and recognized a double-action revolver, probably a Colt or a Smith & Wesson. Turning, she thought she would let it play out for a moment just out of amusement since it had been awhile since someone actually tried to mug her.

"The bag and your money."

It was always the backpack, and of course always for the textbooks. Nevermind that pawn shops around town wouldn't take them and it had been a while since the local colleges actually started requiring proof of legitimate purchases. Bad enough that some of the books were in the hundreds of dollars.

"No."

She said it exactly how she felt. As much as she felt like seeing just what the guy wanted, she was tired and didn't exactly feel like having to deal with this for the night. Verra wasn't exactly sure what to expect from the guy, but considering he was either bold or dumb enough to actually pull a gun on someone in Velocity's city, well… Actually, it was probably just dumb. Even through the rather poor face-covering that seemed to be some hosiery from the dollar store, she could see visible confusion as he seemed to struggle with the fact that he had just been told no.

"But… I have a gun."

"So?"

Now that really seemed to turn things upside down for him, and as much as she thought it the responsible thing to do to turn him in to the police for his momentary lapse in judgement, it was clear that he had never actually intended to use the gun. Just a quick glance told her all she needed to know. It was likely just a moment of pretty bad luck that drove a normally decent person to an act of desperation, and most of the time just having a weapon and the appearance of a will to use it was enough to get some easy money.

"That means you have to do what I ask."

"Yeah, I don't feel like it."

Yawning at that point, she rolled her eyes at the protesting tone of his voice and how it really didn't seem to click that she didn't much care that he had a gun. Verra gave one last shake of her head and turned around, giving a light wave as she started to walk away.

"Go home and rethink your life dude."

Fallout: Into the Storm

Armann Storstrand

The gunshot had interrupted their patrol of the area, just as the trio of gargoyles had taken their leave and headed back to their preferred hunting grounds. Armann for one had just about thought of indulging Maine's desire to take the fight to their enemies, but this gave the rag-tag squad yet another welcome distraction. "Stay sharp." His last command to the group before taking point and rounding the corner to the sight of a rather large group of people in hazmat suits and two in power armor. It wasn't the first of such groups they had come across, but they seemed different in that it was the first time he had seen one of them actually take a shot at the wall.

"It is meant to keep things in."

Easy enough to find the shared comm channel, and moreso to determine that the two accompanying them must have been the leaders of this ill-fated expedition. For a brief moment he considered extending a hand to what was clearly two more Brotherhood soldiers having ventured into the darkness of former New York, but as he started his eyes drifted lower and noticed the sword at the hip of the one at the front. Only one person he had known bore a sword like that, and the spear across their back as well as the faded insignias and carefully maintained armor only confirmed it.

"Swordwind."

"Star-Paladin Khaliya, if you will Paladin Storstrand."

Khaliya's response was terse and hard-edged, and from the relatively short distance between them he could see the narrowing of her eyes behind the lenses of her helmet. It was to be expected, their last discussion had not exactly ended on good terms. Jeremiah on the other hand seemed more than happy to have the company, coming forward and shaking his hand before taking turns with the other two.

"Paladin Storstrand, we didn't expect to see you. Elder Maxson said you and your squad were lost in battle not too long after you went out on patrol."

Others had gathered around them, hearing the entire exchange over the shared channel either because Khaliya chose not to switch to a private BoS one, or because she didn't care. At this point, he couldn't quite be sure which.

"I'm sure he did, unlike Khaliya I didn't simply heel to his orders. Suppose I should be thankful at least that we have another of the Pride here and the Swordwind no less. I wonder though, did you slip Maxson's leash and get assigned here as we did?"

Bold words spoken so openly, Prism and Jeremiah both took a step back for their own reasons. The Talon Leader as she had thought two survivors of the Raven Rock Incident might have a little more camaraderie than that, and him for knowing full well what would be coming after such a challenge. A couple others made their own comments, the Legionary trying to communicate in a language vaguely reminiscent of the Brotherhood's various mottos, while Marvin whispered aloud his own thoughts on this very opportune encounter.

"We're not here on Brotherhood business."

"Very well, we'll discuss that at The Bunker. As for you," Armann stared at Servius for a moment to indicate who he was speaking to, "I have no idea what you just said, so you'll have to try again once we're under shelter. For the rest of you, let's get moving and we can get settled and out of this accursed rain."

Her reply was terse but surprisingly not as hostile as he had expected. Regardless of how he wanted to counter in depth though, the others in her group were quite correct as the black rain was intensifying and already sheets were coming down around them. Armann gave a slight indication to follow, nodding to both Finn and Maine to take up flanking positions and for Jeremiah to take rearguard. Slowly they progressed up the empty street until the bank was there in sight, the outer walls fortified with what they could salvage and Finn could make work.

"Right, decon is right through these double doors. Do not proceed until the machine has finished. We try not to irradiate where we sleep."

And like that they were through. On the other side as they were misted and hit with the UV lights to scour their suits and armor to decontaminate them, a pair of doors opened to the bank proper. Warm lighting filled the interior, string lights for the most part that had been nailed into the walls at various points and the sound of a fusion generator in the basement powering everything before them. It had clearly been lived and worked in for some time, with a few bunk spaces made out for the three Brotherhood who had escorted them here, but others left empty. Not quite empty as Khaliya herself emerged from the decon room, parking her armor in a repair frame and pocketing the fusion core.

Four bunks had tags hanging from the posts, a box on each with belongings that spoke of a life lived and someone who wasn't coming back.

"Khaliya." Storstrand come up to her, nearly a foot taller but sharing the grim expression that she too wore as she saw the cost of their post. "Whenever they're ready, we'll have that talk."

Fallout: Into the Storm

Talon Leader "Prism"

December 3rd, 2286
The Surface

Discipline or fear had rooted everyone to their own small corner of the subway station, the beast before them one of the terrors of the wasteland only whispered in the safety of a settlement or far from the rad-soaked wilds. As debris went flying, peppering some with rock and trash, Prism was cursing under her breath. The man ducking and weaving was one of her own, she had recognized his voice even in panic over the radio. While he had never been one to bolt in the face of combat before, clearly everyone had a limit and he had reached his. A sudden swing of the creature's tail sent her ducking to avoid decapitation. Instead yet more tiling was rent from the wall and followed up with a terminal lifted from its anchoring to smash against another. In all her life of being a mercenary of the wastes, and in one of the more dangerous regions at that, she had never before seen anything like this. It was vicious and relentless, where most creatures had adapted to hit and run tactics, it furiously pursued her comrade.

She was about to call out to him when it ended with a crack and his death. For a moment she was stunned, feeling as if she had been punched in the chest at just how sudden it was. Only when the creature was gone did she let out a shuddering exhale, slowly sliding down against the wall and just staring out at where one of her people had been. True, he had never been a "friend" in any sense of the word, and had to be convinced through a share of the loot in order to come along… But he was someone she had known. It left her shaking, though for all anyone could tell in the bulky radiation suit she was simply sitting there like a few others had been after that sonic blast.

The medic speaking was what snapped her out of it, watching as the other paladin of the Brotherhood began ascending the stairs along with the others. Of all of them, only one bothered to show their respects, the foreigner from out west. At least, she assumed as much due to his accent and mannerisms. He struck her as one of those Legionnaires who had broken rank, though for what reason she couldn't tell, much less if it was true. Still, he placed a coin on the ground where her comrade had fallen and began to make his way up. She was right behind, coming up alongside and making a gesture with her hand to get his attention.

"I appreciate what you did, he was one of my people and was only here because I convinced him the trip would be worth it." Speaking through the glass of her helmet, she had to raise her voice a little, the east coast accent clear as well as some minor inflections that were somewhat out of place. "Robert was… Well, one shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but I'll just say he didn't deserve to go out that way. It's frustrating that we couldn't do anything, but I know if we attacked even as one, that abomination would likely be feasting on all of us."

Just ahead Jeremiah turned, his armor at a slant as he paused near the top of the stairs and the acid rain poured from him. "It was the right call, though I don't think it sits well with any of us." That was all he said, giving a slight inclination of his helmet towards the both of them before continuing on. So soon into the city and having lost a member, it felt wrong, at least to her. Prism couldn't help but feel it was an omen of sorts, though she tried not to think in such superstitious ways…

---

At the top they gathered, rain hissing as it cleaned off some of the tunnel debris and the dust from the minor skirmish down below. It had let up from the downpour of a moment ago, but not by much and certainly not in the acidic potency. All around them were the abandoned buildings of upper Manhattan, residences and commercial spaces left exactly as they were the day the bombs dropped. No vehicles sat on the streets, not within immediate sight and the reason was looming behind them. Inside the Necropolis they could see the makeup of the wall a little more clearly than before. Each vehicle had been placed deliberately in the spot it occupied, welded to the ones above and below, as well as to either side. Great beams of steel rose from the bottom where they were impaled into the street and all the way to the top, an eerie blue glow emanating from each.

More at odds with how the exterior had been, even just a glance showed that their spacing was incredibly precise. Each space between the beams was the same. No matter how many vehicles had been collected from the streets, somehow all of them had been fit together to make one continuous path along the top. It was strange to say the least, and caught the attention of Jeremiah and Prism both as they turned to marvel at it.

"It's not meant to keep things out…"

It was Prism who spoke, an uneasy feeling in her gut as she stared over every detail, the city around them tuned out as she took a step towards the wall. No matter that it was perhaps a mile or so down the street, there was already a faint ring in her ears. The same tone except diluted across so long a distance, rain and absorbed into the surrounding buildings. With a slow and deliberate motion, she unholstered her pistol, training it towards the horizon and lifting it up towards the top of the wall. Jeremiah saw what she was doing and as he started to move, so too did Khaliya.

"No! Stop!"

This time she was too slow. Prism tensed her finger on the trigger even as Khaliya took a step towards her, the crack of her pistol ringing out across the street and then drowned out by another. It came with a flash across the sky, one brilliant above the wall where the mercenary leader had been aiming, and spreading in four directions from it as if the bullet had been a drop on a flat plane of water. Blue ripples went out across to the east and west of the impact, eventually fading into nothingness, and the lights atop the beams flared an angry red for just a moment, electricity arcing towards the bottom until once more everything was calm.

Calm enough as Khaliya and Jeremiah both looked to the skies, weapons in hand and alert for the beating of wings, but they never came. Instead their attention was suddenly drawn to new arrivals coming from the direction of the bank. Looming tall in a suit of battered power armor, the colors of the Lyon's Pride stood out on both pauldrons of the leader, one who had clearly seen combat and a lot of it over a short period of time. He was joined by two others, another in power armor and one in the gear of a scout. All three Brotherhood, and by the looks of them, a squad who had been inside the city for a long time. The gunshot had alerted them to the presence of the party, and though wary at first, Khaliya recognized the man at the fore, especially as he continued the thought Prism had left unfinished.

"It is meant to keep things in."

Fallout: Into the Storm

Khaliya, The Swordwind

December 3rd, 2286
The Blue Line

It was a creature of nightmares, raw natural power rippling across scale and cracking tile with every step. Deathclaw was what it was called in most places, the penultimate predator of the wasteland. Few who encountered one survived the encounter, and even fewer among them had ever been as close as this. Putrid breath wheezed from it with each deep exhale, its chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as it slowly turned its head as if searching out something it knew was there. The clicks that echoed around the room returned to it and the horns crowning its skull extended a membrane from them that rippled with every sound around it. Though clearly blind, it was not without ways to hunt its prey, and as the buzzing calls of its kin above ground made clear, it was not the solitary predator that most Deathclaws were.

Emil's bold move to alert the rest of the group drew the attention of the beast. One step closer and he would see the talons digging through concrete and steel as if it were dirt. Each of the three claws at the fore of its splayed foot was stained dark with what could only be the remains of former prey. Another step and he would see the maw of the beast opening slowly as it sent out another tentative click, echolocation honing in on what was before it. Small orbs writhed in the center of the hollowed sockets that would normally have been eyes, pinpricks of a reflection in each focusing and shifting from point to point. It was not entirely blind, yet as it turned its massive head from side to side to peer at Emil, it may as well have been.

Two things happened at once before the beast could determine what was before it was prey. First was the sound of the rock skipping across tile and down the stairs to land rather loudly at the base. The beast turned swiftly, claws at the end of both wings ripping tile from the walls with the speed of the movement. It had just started to move towards the stairs and away from the group when someone else spoke up. One of the other mercenaries with Talon Company had watched the advance of the beast, and while Jeremiah was beside him and doing his best to silence the terrified merc, it was not quite enough.

"Fuck this!"

His panicked cry went out over the comms, immediately disorientating the creature as it heard a rather loud sound from all around it, but soon it had little else to focus on. Jeremiah watched on as the man made a run for it. Heavy footfalls echoed around them as the merc ducked underneath the angry swipe of a wing. It now had a direct bead on him as the party could only watch for fear of revealing themselves as well.

"Hold."

Khaliya's voice whispered over the comms, firm and direct as she had heard the commotion and the man's voice in her ear as well. Still she kept a hold on Brian, an armored arm keeping the fool close by as masonry went flying down below in the frenzy. The beast was giving chase in the confines of the lobby, and as much of a bigger fool the merc was, he was giving it a decent enough run. He leapt over the swipe of a wing that came just a foot away from where Marvin and Frankie were standing by. Another dodged just in time as the other wing came in a vicious thrust that shattered concrete and rent concrete. Terminals on top of the counters went flying as a roar that shook the entire tunnel sounded, actually cracking glass and flooring the merc.

There he lay disorientated as the beast bore down on him. One last shout echoed through their comms before a sickening crack and silence. In the center of the room the beast had crushed the dome helmet of his suit into the floor, dark red flowing from around the talons buried into the concrete and the single rear claw sunk into his back pierced through the pack. There was only silence now, interrupted by the soft clicks of the beast as it smelled blood on the air, leaning down to give tentative licks at the floor. Up above two more crashes announced more of the beasts coming to investigate, insistent buzzing between the three sounding.

The one among them sounded irate, at least more so than when it first came upon them. It stalked towards the base of the stairs, dragging its victim along with it and giving off low and aggressive pulses back up to its packmates. They seemed to argue for a moment, before with another roar it relented. Tossing the dead merc up the stairs, the beast followed as Khaliya kept still once more, watching it stalk by and rejoin the others.

For a long moment there was nothing following the heavy beating of leathery wings, until finally Khaliya released Brian.

"They're gone." Of course she had kept an ear out on above ground before giving the go ahead to everyone else, taking a hesitant knee on the stairs and glancing out to the surface. All three had left presumably to hunt down more substantial prey, leaving them in the clear for now. "Everyone to the top of the stairs, and let's try this again. Stick together." No one needed clarification as to who that was directed to, her tone alone enough to convey her displeasure at just how close a call that was. "Low and slow, watch the shadows and the skies. Let's not take anymore unnecessary risks."