TASK FORCE BLUE Military Formation in Forever Fallout, Missouri 2317 | World Anvil
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TASK FORCE BLUE


Task Force Blue is a special forces group gathered by the Great Leader of The Capitol for crucial missions. She was inspired to gather a unit of diverse operatives after watching the Current Adventuring Party in combat. It's members are hand-picked by Great Leader herself, each chosen for a unique skill. The focus of their mission seems to be to collect the Thirteen Scepters.
 

Stats

Commander

Wyatt

The Great Leader of the The Capitol has mysterious roots. Mirabelle Aditi weaves through her own expansive bureaucracy like a virus in the system. Her machinations are complex, taking bizarre actions to throw off her opponents.   Survivor, Level 20   Benefit 1: Gifted   Benefit 2: Driver   Attributes: S5 P6 E6 C7 I10 A6 L7   Skills: Athletics 3, Barter 3, Explosives 1, Medicine 2, Melee 6*, Pilot 6, Repair 2, Small Guns 6*, Sneak 6*, Speech 6*, Survival 4, Throwing 1   Perks: Action Girl, Big Leagues, Commando 2, Flygirl, Intense Training x5, Life Giver 4, Refractor 2, Scoundrel, Tag! Small Guns, Toughness 2   Hit Points: 56   Defense: 1   Initiative: 12
 

Party History

Wyatt served as the party's driver when they were invited to a diplomatic dinner by Colonel Braxton of The Capitol (SESSION 52: WYWY NOT?).      

Captain


Obscisus Ursus

A protégé of Gaius Fringus, one of Caesar's Legion's great military minds. Ursus was plucked from Flagstaff's command academy to join a special project: the Impavidae, a special Legion unit armed and trained to use energy weapons. He trained for years under Fringus, alongside Arminius. Ursus has developed his own unique squad-level combat style, relying on aggressive, frenzied attacks to break the morale of an enemy. His massive frame and soft-spoken personality often leave people underestimating his considerable intelligence.    

Level Ups


Obscisus Ursus, Lvl 13: +1 Survival, Intense Training CHA
Obscisus Ursus, Lvl 14: +1 Survival, Terrifying Presence
  Obscisus Ursus, Lvl 15: +1 Speech, Laser Commander 2
Obscisus Ursus, Lvl 16: +1 Sneak, Vendetta
Obscisus Ursus, Lvl 17: +1 Unarmed, Intense Training PER
Obscisus Ursus, Lvl 18: +1 Unarmed, Life Giver 2
 

Current Stats

  Survivor, Level 18   Benefit 1: Gifted   Benefit 2: Educated   Attributes: S9 P8 E8 C8 I7 A5 L4   Skills: Athletics 6*, Barter 3, Energy Weapons 6*, Medicine 3, Melee 6*, Sneak 2, Speech 6*, Survival 6*, Unarmed 5   Perks: Barbarian, Dimachaerus, Intense Training x7, Laser Commander 2, Life Giver 2, Mandata Captate, Pain Train 1, Terrifying Presence, Tag! Speech, Vendetta   Hit Points: 45   Defense: 1   Initiative: 13
 

Party History

The party have not yet met Obscisus Ursus. But Arminius trained alongside Ursus for years.      

Technician


Liz Langley


Born and raised in Vault 40, Liz Langley has spent her entire adult life working in the vault workshops. She and Lex Garridan were students of Professor Steve Gritch, well-tutored in engineering, machining and textile design. Liz is generally a quiet, anxious person, ill-suited to elite military service. But surrounded by the likes of Obscisus Ursus and Great Leader, she has little choice but to follow orders.    

Level Ups


Chief Langley, Lvl 12: +2 Energy Weapons, Intense Training INT
Chief Langley, Lvl 13: +3 Explosives, Tag! Explosives
Chief Langley, Lvl 14: +1 Energy Weapons, Psyker
Chief Langley, Lvl 15: +1 Energy Weapons, Mind Walls
Chief Langley, Lvl 16: +1 Survival, Psyker 2
Chief Langley, Level 17: +1 Medicine, Action Girl
     

Current Stats

  Vault Dweller, Level 17   Attributes: S4 P7 E6 C5 I9 A5 L7   Skills: Athletics 3, Energy Weapons 6*, Explosives 6*, Medicine 5*, Pilot 2, Repair 5*, Science 6*, Sneak 3, Survival 3, Throwing 2   Perks: Action Girl, Cautious Nature, Hacker, Intense Training x3, Life Giver 1, Mind Walls, Psyker 2, Refractor 2, Robotics Expert 1, Science! 1, Tag! Explosives, Toughness 2   Hit Points: 35   Defense: 1   Initiative: 12
 

Party History

Lex Garridan grew up with Liz and worked on a technical team with her. The party met Liz briefly while she was operating the fusion generator in Vault 40 (SESSION 15: RISING TENSIONS). They came across her again at Kentucky Dam, as Liz was working on the Midwest technical team there (SESSION 51: IT'S ABOUT DAM TIME).
  The Party met her a third time when she and Task Force Blue were negotiating on behalf of The Capitol with Railmaster Bloodgrind of The Rustlands [see: SESSION 77: RAILSROADED.] Lex and Liz traded a few barbs over their Pip Boys, but there was little communication.
   

Pilot


Major Fynn


Once sent to The Capitol to infiltrate their government, Fynn rejected his program and discovered his true nature: he is a Fynn type Synth (just like Mouse, but older.) Disturbed at being used, he re-swore loyalty to the The Capitol and began true service to Great Leader. He has eschewed his old name and goes by only the single name Fynn. He is one of Mirabelle Aditi’s most loyal servants, and one of the few trusted with knowledge of her special projects.    

Level Ups


Major Fynn, Lvl 12: +1 Survival, We Have a Technical
  Major Fynn, Lvl 13: +1 Survival, Intense Training PER
  Major Fynn, Lvl 14: +1 Medicine, Laser Commander 2
  Major Fynn, Lvl 15: +1 Survival, We Have a Technical 2
  Major Fynn, Lvl 16: +1 Survival, Ace
  Major Fynn, Lvl 17: +1 Survival, Ironclad 1
   

Current Stats

  Brotherhood Initiate, Level 17   Attributes: S6 P7 E7 C5 I7 A5 L7   Skills: Athletics 3, Energy Weapons 6*, Explosives 2, Lockpick 3, Medicine 6*, Pilot 6*, Repair 3, Science 4*, Sneak 2, Survival 5   Perks: Ace, Flyboy, Healer 1, Intense Training x4, Ironclad 1, Laser Commander 2, Life Giver 1, Refractor 2, Toughness 2, We Have a Technical 2   Hit Points: 37   Defense: 1   Initiative: 12
 

Party History

Before they met this particular Fynn clone, they spent a long time with Mouse, another Fynn-model Synth. They also met another Fynn, this one going by the name Brook, in Jax. He was headed toward Michigan to confront someone called The General (SESSION 38: JAX).
They met Major Fynn in The Rails when Task Force Blue was negotiating with Railmaster Bloodgrind. Major Fynn simply watched as Dominica and Lex verbally sparred in the Temple of the Rails.
     

Lieutenant


Dominica


A Capitol assassin and zealous believer in Great Leader. Dominica once had an intimate encounter with Lex Garridan, which Lex did not take seriously. Scorned and rebuffed, the assassin has sworn vengeance. Dominica personally traveled into Caesar’s Lands and retrieved the Scepter of Texas, a pre-war symbol of American authority. Upon returning with the artifact, Great Leader was impressed and recruited her for Task Force Blue.    

Level Ups


Agent Dominica, Lvl 12: +1 Sneak, Mister Sandman
Agent Dominica, Lvl 13: +1 Survival, Life Giver
Agent Dominica, Lvl 14: +1 Athletics, Intense Training AGI
Agent Dominica, Lvl 15: +1 Medicine, Kicking Down Doors
Agent Dominica, Lvl 16: +1 Explosives 1, Intense Training STR
Agent Dominica, Lvl 16: +1 Explosives 1, Enforcer
   

Current Stats

  Survivor, Level 17   Benefit 1: Gifted   Benefit 2: Ghost Perk   Attributes: S7 P6 E7 C5 I5 A10 L7   Skills: Athletics 6*, Explosives 2, Medicine 3, Repair 2, Science 2, Small Guns 6*, Sneak 6*, Speech 3, Survival 6*, Throwing 2   Perks: Enforcer, Ghost, Intense Training x4, Kicking Down Doors, Life Giver 1, Intense Training STR, Mister Sandman, Moving Target, Quick Draw, Refractor 1, Rifleman 2, Shotgun Surgeon, Tag! Survival, Toughness 1   Hit Points: 37   Defense: 2   Initiative: 16
 

Party History

The Party came across Dominica while both were traveling along the Mississippi train in Dixie. Lex and Domnica enjoyed a brief liaison (SESSION 40: THE HOBO LIFE.) Later on that journey, Dominica assisted the party in defending the train (SESSION 41: TRAIN TO MEMPHIS).
The Party met her again in The Rails when Dominica led Task Force Blue's efforts to sway Railmaster Bloodgrind to The Capitol's cause [see: SESSION 77: RAILSROADED.] Lex was able to use her Psyker powers to take over Dominica's mind and make her shout her evil plans in front of the Railmaster.
     

Wildcard


Randy


Whether the product of Great Leader’s genius or insanity, Randy is a mechanical being of pure malevolence. After The Capitol conquered the Dixie village of Calvert City, they came into possession of an old Schlockett Industries robot factory. Mirabelle Aditi’s first order to the newly captured Liz Langley was to rebuild one of the destroyed ShlockettBots, modified to her personal specifications. Worried for her life, Liz did her best job on Randy. But the strange Schlockett Industries robotics were new to her, and mistakes were made. As a result, Randy is every bit as cruel and vicious as Great Leader requested, but is also filled with bugs and quirks, including an intense, protective instinct towards Liz.    

Level Ups


Randy, Lvl 12: +1 Unarmed, Grim Reaper's Spirit
Randy, Lvl 13: +1 Repair, Life Giver
Randy, Lvl 14: +1 Energy Weapons, Refractor 2
Randy, Lvl 15: +1 Energy Weapons, Life Giver 2
Randy, Lvl 16: +1 Athletics, Toughness 2
Randy, Lvl 17: +1 Melee Weapons, Action Boy
   

Current Stats

  SchlockettBot, Level 17   Attributes: S9 P6 E8 C4 I4 A5 L8   Skills: Athletics 6*, Energy Weapons 6, Medicine 5, Melee Weapons 1, Repair 6*, Science 2, Sneak 3, Unarmed 6*   Perks: Action Boy, Daring Nature, Grim Reaper's Spirit, Intense Training x4, Iron Fist 2, Life Giver 2 Paralyzing Palm, Piercing Strike, Refractor 2, Toughness 2, Life Giver 2   Hit Points: 48   Defense: 1   Initiative: 11
 

Party History

The Party are accompanied by Randy's fellow SchlockettBot, Andy. Additionally, the The Heroes of St. Louis once traveled to All-American City, Arthur Schlockett's ideal community and met with Betty Bagger, the leader of the SchlockettBots (SESSION 08 - ALL-AMERICAN CITY.)
The Party met Randy in The Rails while he was on a mission with Task Force Blue [see: SESSION 77: RAILSROADED.]      

Ranger


Kyle Edwards


A ghoul and New California Republic Ranger. President Hayden has sent Ranger Edwards to serve Great Leader as a sign of friendship. Kyle knows damn well that he is hated by both his commander Obscisus Ursus and Great Leader herself. But a career soldier, he takes his mission very seriously. He just sleeps with one eye open.    

Level Ups


Ranger Edwards, Lvl 12: +1 Melee, Action Boy
Ranger Edwards Lvl 13: +1 Melee, Intense Training PER
Ranger Edwards Lvl 14: +1 Melee, Action Boy
Ranger Edwards Lvl 15: +1 Lockpick, Toughness 1
Ranger Edwards, Lvl 16: +1 Speech, Covert Operator
Ranger Edwards, Lvl 17: +1 Explosives, Refractor 1
   

Current Stats

  Ghoul, Level 17   Attributes: S5 P8 E7 C5 I5 A9 L7   Skills: Athletics 6*, Explosives 1, Lockpick 3, Melee Weapons 6, Small Guns 6*, Sneak 6*, Survival 6*, Throwing 3   Perks: Action Boy, Covert Operator, Ghost, Intense Training x6, Life Giver 1, Light Step, Mister Sandman, Refractor 1, Rifleman 2, Sniper, Toughness 1   Hit Points: 37   Defense: 2   Initiative: 17
 

Party History

Living in Caesar's Legion, Arminius and other Legion soldiers are warned that NCR Rangers are very dangerous snipers.
The Party met Ranger Edwards in The Rails while he was assisting Task Force Blue on a mission [see: SESSION 77: RAILSROADED.]
     

Assassin


 

Keziah


In September of 2317, Great Leader sent Task Force Blue to Far Harbor to liberate Keziah. They found the program and uploaded Keziah to a Gen 2 Synth body. But, done in a rush, the body was not in great shape. Her flesh hangs off of her metal underworkings, hiding behind loose clothes and a hood. Desperate for her original body back, Keziah wants to find Morag. But, controlled by her Institute command code, she is imprisoned in the service of Obscisus Ursus and Great Leader.    

Level Ups


Keziah, Lvl 12: +1 Survival, Moving Target
Keziah Lvl 13: +1 Survival, More Human than Human
Keziah Lvl 14: +1 Survival, Action Girl
Keziah Lvl 15: +1 Melee Weapons, Blitz 2
Keziah, Lvl 16: +1 Throwing, Blocker (Wanderer's)
Keziah, Lvl 17: +1 Melee Weapons, We Have a Technical 2
     

Current Stats

Gen 2 Synth, Level 17   Attributes: S9 P4 E6 C4 I4 A9 L4   Skills: Athletics 6*, Melee Weapons 4, Repair 3, Sneak 6*, Survival 6, Throwing 4, Unarmed 6*   Perks: Action Girl, Barbarian, Blitz 2, Blocker, Ghost, Iron Fist 2, Killing Machine 2, Life Giver 1, More Human than Human, Moving Target, Piercing Strike, The Data Could be Called Pain, We Have a Technical 2   Health Points: 32   Defense: 2   Initiative: 13
 

Party History

The party has never met his copy of Keziah. But Colonel Braxton once referred to Morag as "Keziah," when he tried to use a radio control frequency on her. There seems to be a link between Keziah and Morag.
   

WeaponBuddy


  

Michiko


  A sentient PlasmaBuddy, Michiko is equipped with a full AI consciousness. Just like Beau and other Scions of Bob, she is outfitted with a series of motors and gyros that allow her to assist her user in aiming. She was discovered in the Utah badlands by Ranger Edwards. And after being experimented on by NCR scientists, she was given back to him for his duties as a ranger. After being assigned to Task Force Blue, Ranger Edwards allow Obscisus Ursus to borrow Michiko. She does not enjoy firing for either man, and must be electrocuted regularly to torture her into compliance. She often recites sad poetry to herself.
   

Level Ups


  Michiko, Lvl 5: +1 Science, Hacker
Michiko, Lvl 6: +1 Repair, Combat Assessor
Michiko, Lvl 7: +1 Science, Hand of Bob
Michiko, Lvl 7: +1 Science, Hand of Bob
Michiko, Lvl 8: +1 Repair, Crack Shot (Wanderer's)
Michiko, Lvl 8: +1 Repair, Crack Shot (Wanderer's)
   

Current Stats


  Plasma Buddy, Level 8   Attributes: C 6, L 4, I 8, P 6   Skills: Energy Weapons 6*, Medicine 3, Repair 4, Science 6, Speech 3, Survival 3   Perks: Crack Shot, Finesse, Hacker, Intense Training 2, Vendetta, Hand of Bob, Combat Assessor, Crack Shot   Health Points: 17   Defense: 0   Initiative: 13
 

Party History


  The Party have yet to meet Michiko.        

TFB Journal


    August 31st, 2317
(At the same time as SESSION 55: REVELATION ROAD)
  ...1500 miles away, hard sunlight shone through the bars of prison cell's glassless window. Obscisus Ursus sat on a scratched wooden bench, staring at the bricks in front of him. The cell was small enough that the huge man's knees almost touched the opposite wall. Ursus breathed deeply, invoking the battle meditation Gaius Fringus had taught him, keeping his volcanic temper at bay. He focused on his escape. One of these guards would be undisciplined. He would be too weak and lazy to fasten his uncomfortable neck shield. The Impavidae Dux would find this guard, break his neck and use the corpse as a shield. And then it would be as simple as walking out. But he would have to keep his rage cool, choke it down.
  The patterned light of window bars on the wall began to shift, just slightly. And with it came the sound of crackling plasma. Obscisus Ursus looked to his window and saw hands, a woman's hands, stretching to cut the bars with an energy tool. At first he simply watched. This was certainly no Legionary and could not be trusted. It was best to wait and observe.
  "Do you want out or not?" a voice grumbled from outside.
  Ursus approached the window and looked out. There below him was a woman in a suit, the old dress clothes of the pre-war world. Her long brown hair was tied back in an elaborate braid and she wore dark glasses. She held a plasma cutter, a rare pre-war tool that Ursus had only read about in books.
  "That depends on what it will cost me," Ursus answered.
  "How about a couple years of service?" the woman said, tossing the plasma cutter up through the window. "I'm building a team that kills things for me. That should suit your temperament. And they need a leader. That should suit your ego."
  Obscisus Ursus carefully drew the plasma cutter around the frame of the window, not cutting through the bars, but through the brick wall itself. He had to in order to make a hole big enough for his body to squeeze through.
  When he was out, he towered over the strange woman, the crackling energy tool in his hand. He could easily dispatch her. But instead, he growled, "You stink of treachery like no one I've ever seen."
  Mirabelle lit a cigarette, took a drag and replied, "Then you'd better be smart."
   
  August 31st, 2317
(At the same time as SESSION 55: REVELATION ROAD)
  ...In a small room deep within Andrews Air Force Base, Obscisus Ursus looked over a pre-war map of America. He traced a finger over the shape of the East Coast, having never seen it before.
  "And how many do you have?" he asked thoughtfully.
  "Eight, including yours," Mirabelle said. "One was spotted recently in Texas. I sent a woman to retrieve it."
  Ursus's face twisted incredulously. "You sent one female to infiltrate the Legion?"
  "Yes, I did," Great Leader answered dryly. "And you will apologize to her when she returns. Successfully."
  The immense warrior gave a graceful, though mocking, curtsy and said, "Servimus."
  Mirabelle, unphased, approached the map and pointed to a spot, "There are indications that there's one here... near Montgomery. Everyone's occupied with all the, you know, war. So, I'll drop you around here. Infiltrate. Investigate. Retrieve."
  "You haven't given me my team yet," Ursus complained.
  "No, you're solo on this one." Great Leader drew a cigarette slowly, watching to see if Ursus could keep calm. She lit up, inhaled deeply and only then said, "Consider it an audition."
  "Everyone," the Legionary drew out the word in a growl, "everyone who ever toyed with me is in the ground."
  "Who's toying?" Mirabelle said. "There's one female doing the same thing in Texas. Should be easy for you."
   
  August 31st, 2317
(At the same time as SESSION 55: REVELATION ROAD)
  ...The blue power armoured Corrector was standing over her, those red windowed eyes a constant stare. She and the rest of the technical team lined the hallway, sitting shoulder to shoulder in tight rows. A Capitol army officer entered the hall and announced, "Alright, prisoners. I just got word. You're going home. So, everyone on your feet."   She looked to the others and saw fatigue. They hadn't eaten or slept since they were taken by the NCR. And then it had been a twenty-five-mile forced march with very few stops. There were groans and grunts as the Midwesterners got to their feet. Capitol soldiers helped a few up, but this was done at gunpoint.   "Come on, people. Let's move," the officer called out. And as he did, he was handed a piece of paper. After reading it, he called out, "Is there a Langley here? Elizabeth Langley?"   Liz did her best not to show a reaction, but her heart began to race. She had no idea why they'd be interested in her, but with The Capitol it couldn't be good.   Paladin Ledlie spoke up, "That person was in our group. Why do you ask?"   The Capitol officer replied in a dispassionate tone: "We need to hold Ms. Langley a bit longer. Just for a few questions."   Liz's body produced a cold sweat at the thought of interrogation.   And Ledlie said, "That's unacceptable. We are Midwest citizens. You have no right to hold any of us."   The whole room tensed, save for the officer. He simply said, "You're not in a position to negotiate."   Paladin Ledlie was incensed and began to shout, "Are you out of your mind, you petty little dictator? We're not letting you kidnap one of our own. If you want Langley, you'll have to go through every one of us, which means starting a war!"   Things were rapidly getting out of hand. Despite the danger, Liz spoke up, "I'm Langley! I'm Elizabeth Langley. Paladin, please don't endanger everyone just for me."   Ledlie was still angry and said, "Shut up. This is about more than just you."   The Capitol officer raised his hand for calm, and turned to another soldier, saying, "What command colour was that order?"   The soldier examined the message and replied, "Uhhh... Oh! Blue, sir."   A deep breath flowed through the officer. Then he gave the looming Corrector a simple gesture. In an instant, the Corrector threw a heavy armoured fist into Paladin Ledlie's chest. Her shattered ribs made a horrible crunching sound. And then she was on the floor, dead. The prisoners were shocked, but surrounded by Capitol soldiers with guns, they took no action.   The Corrector took three long steps to Liz Langley and hoisted her over their shoulder as if she was weightless. The others watched silently as she was carted away.
   
  September 1st, 2317
(At the same time as SESSION 58: SHRED OF EVIDENCE)
  ...The tea was just moments from being perfect. Aromatic vapours rolled out of the cup lazily. Mirabelle closed her eyes and brought the impeccable drink up to her lips but was abruptly stopped by a knock echoing through her office. Great Leader let out a sigh and pressed a button on her desk. Her door slid open with a metallic hum, and there stood a man dressed in comfortable tactical gear. His hair was greying, his skin deeply wrinkled around the eyes, but it was an odd kind of age. There were no scars, no spots, no discolouration whatsoever. The effect was strange, waxy.   "I know what you're doing," the strange man announced. "I want in."   "I'd like that," Mirabelle said. "They need a pilot. Problem is, I can't trust you. Not with this."   The man grimaced and said, "I left The Vanishing Point twenty years ago."   Great Leader gave a dismissive wave with her hand as she scoffed: "The General dropped you, not The Puppetmaster. I know what makes your little synthetic heart go pitter-patter. If she said jump, you'd be in the air before you noticed."   "Oh yeah?" the visitor said, closing the door behind him. "How about this? I know how to keep Her eyes off of you."   She was shocked. For the first time in a long time, she was actually shocked. A wicked grin crawled across her face, more in her eyes that on her lips. She said, "Fynn. I don't know whether to kiss you or hang you for treason."   Fynn just shrugged. He was confident he had earned his place here.   "You know," Mirabelle warned, "The General will be probably notice, and be personally interested. He'll send an army of them after you."   Fynn didn’t flinch: "You mean me, an army of me. That's fine. I've killed myself before, looked into my own eyes as it all drains away... The sun comes up the next morning just the same."   "Well, now my cup of Charleston Long Leaf is cold AND I have a disturbing image in my head. Another glorious lunch break for Great Leader."
   
  September 1st, 2317
  (At the same time as SESSION 58: SHRED OF EVIDENCE)
  ...Liz Langley reached her hand out over the railing of the steel catwalk. She expected there to be waves of heat billowing off of the electrolytic fluid below, but it gave no warmth. The old factory looked like a warzone. Destroyed robots were strewn about randomly. These strange models were bulbous and boxy. She could imagine Professor Gritch disgusted by the ugly design.   A towering Corrector pointed an armoured finger to the old manager's office. Liz walked tenuously down a narrow gangplank into the room. She discovered a single hanging lamp illuminating a long table. One of the odd robots was splayed out, like an autopsy.   "Hello," a voice intoned from the shadows. The vaultie jolted back with fear.   Mirabelle stepped into the light. She had an inviting, dangerous smile, more in her eyes than on her lips.   Liz said, "I am Elizabeth Langley, a Midwest citizen. I have been captured and I demand to be freed."   Great Leader gave a snort. "Is that what the Midwest is? Freedom? Especially for you. Are you really begging to be put back in that vault?"   Langley had never been more confused in her life. She paused, then answered, "What do you want from me?"   "Let's talk about what I want FOR you. Because, Liz, the handful of people who do what I want, they get to do anything else they want. Anything." Mirabelle stepped closer. Liz fought the urge to take a step back as this strange woman invaded her space. Great Leader continued, "And do you know what the best part is?"   Liz couldn't tell if the question was rhetorical or not. She took a breath to answer, and then thought better of it.   "The best part is that all the things I want to do," Great Leader purred, gesturing over the robot chassis, "are a lot of fun."
   
September 1st, 2317
(At the same time as SESSION 58: SHRED OF EVIDENCE)
  ...Waiting in the rain. Obscisus Ursus, the first son of the Legionarii family (and the Flagstaff Legenarii, not the fucking provincials,) Ursus who had been chosen by Gaius Fringus, was hunched in a ditch somewhere in Alabama with warm rain pouring down on him. It was like being pissed on.   He was bored. It had taken hours to get it out of that pleb, but the shopkeep had said that the wagon always came through here. Ursus reached into his vest pocket and took out the revolver he had used to torture the man. He rolled it across his thigh idly. One could keep a finger between the hammer and the firing pin, making sure the weapon could not fire, but it still made a fearsome click when the trigger was pulled. The subject could see live rounds in the cylinder, one could even fire a few rounds off, but it was all under control - his control.   He examined the old pistol. It read, "Annie Oakley No.3." The Lex female had carried it, probably in deference to some ancient deviant. Well, their power was now his, at least this piece of it.   A long wagon pulled by brahmin emerged in the distance. Ursus watched, waited and then sprang into action. He leaped into the road, sprinting hard straight at the driver. After a few strides, his heavy foot came down on something metal. The mine went off instantly, throwing the big man down into the muddy road.   The cart stopped. The old man driving the wagon just sat in shock, his hands still tightly gripping the reins. The scene became even more unusual as six plastic humanoid beings immediately stepped out from hiding.   The merchant watched in fear as a pack of Gen 2 Synths approached, their electric blue eyes shining. One said "collect" in a monotone voice, and the others repeated.   Fat pellets of rain kept showering down as the merchant stared at the strange beings. He asked, "Collect what?"   All six Synths pointed to the wagon, to the front left side of the wagon, to exactly where his hidden case was stashed within a false wall. Of course, they had come for the case.   Obscisus Ursus climbed to his feet with a groan. A spray of shrapnel had dug into the front of his body. Each tiny wound began to soak with blood. He took a deep, unobstructed breath, his mind twisting to understand how his foot had found a live landmine in this remote place, on this little road, on this day. What were the odds?   The Gen 2's appeared to be confounded. Their eyes darted about. Their heads swiveled in small movements. One questioned out loud with, "Collect?" And then another did the same.   Ursus wasn't going to let the advantage of surprise slip away. He hammer-fisted one of the Synths to the ground, drew his laser pistol and shot the thing in the face. The others barely moved. The Legionary chewed through them with ruthless efficiency. By the time they started to fight back, they were out of position.   Through the fight and after, the merchant stared at Ursus, too scared to move. When it was quiet, the old man said, "I guess you want my treasure."   Obscisus Ursus said nothing, but deftly stomped closer, drew the revolver, leveled it at the merchant's face and pulled the trigger.   But the weapon didn't fire.   The cylinder of the Annie Oakley revolver had been mangled by a big piece of shrapnel. Ursus stared down at it. The pistol had been sitting just below his heart. He examined his coat, and there was a gaping hole burned in it, where the shrapnel had gone through. That should've meant certain death.   The merchant picked up on the situation and gave a smile. He stammered, saying, "I suppose we both seen some luck today. Might be we could keep the streak runnin' by you just... lettin' me be."   "That wasn't luck for you," Ursus growled. "For you, the gun was the fast way to go."
   
  September 2nd, 2317
  (At the same time as SESSION 61: POUND OF SCRAP)     ...Nothing smelled quite like Andrews. Pre-war concrete and steel, bathed in gamma and then left to decay. The smell of jet fuel was like a ghost, almost imperceptible but still present. Her first hot shower in weeks had been glorious; the Texans lived like dogs. She was finally where she belonged, at Great Leader's side. The idea of it warmed her heart. Dominica walked down the hall to the old officer's barracks. She was surprised that Great Leader would call her here and not down to the war room, where these things were usually done. But the saviour of The Capitol was there, smoking one of her awful cigarettes. Dominica stopped in the doorway and gave a stiff salute, beaming with respect.   "At ease," Great Leader said. "Thank you for your service in retrieving the item. Did you have any trouble returning?"   "No," the Capitol agent answered, moving closer. "Once across the Mississippi, I made contact with an NCR platoon. They helped me back."   "Yes, I read that in your report," Great Leader noted. "Any duplicity from the Californians?"   Dominica thought. "None that I saw. Their invasion seemed to be advancing as fast as they say. I saw them engaging Dixie forces well. They voiced no suspicion about me, nor about the object I was carrying."   "Congratulations, special agent," the glorious dictator said. She was a difficult woman to read. There were inscrutable depths to her. "This is the big assignment. The biggest I'll ever give. And you've made it. I choose you."   Dominica was breathless. Hot tears erupted and poured from her eyes. She tried to maintain her dignity in front of Great Leader, apologizing with, "I'm sorry for my outburst. I am just very honoured. And grateful."   Great Leader had little reaction. She continued, "I've assembled a special operations group I'm calling Task Force Blue. You are the second in command. I've given leadership to a Legionary named Obscisus Ursus. He's a brutal, dangerous beast, who will certainly betray me."   "Great Leader!" Dominica protested.   "It's alright," the impressive woman assured, "the situation requires it. Keep him happy. Make him think you're stupid. Make him think I'm stupid. Assist in his brutality. It's his unit, help him run it his way. But watch."   These words were bizarre. But the special agent knew that she was speaking to a higher intellect. She swallowed her objections and listened intently.   "But that's not even the strangest part of the assignment. There's a woman: Elizabeth Langley. No one in the task force is to move further than one hundred yards from her. Ever. This will become extremely difficult, as the woman is a fragile vault dweller. She will collapse in fear. She will want to flee," Great Leader snuffed out her cigarette as she spoke, annoyed at the thought of it. "And subsequently, Ursus will want to murder her. I expect you to manage that, on both sides."   Dominica needed a moment to take it all in, but then said, "And we'll have other Capitol personnel?"   "Major Fynn will be joining you, but the rest will be drawn from elsewhere." Seeing the agent's shock, Great Leader added brusquely, "Is that acceptable to you?"   "Of course!" Dominica shot back instantly. She intoned her tenets of service, saying, "Despite the difficulty, I assure you, Dominica is not a full person. I am just a series of successful tasks completed for you, Great Leader. If there is a failure, then I have ceased to be me and I beg for this body to die."   Great Leader heard this and nodded slightly, saying only, "Dismissed."
   
  September 2nd, 2317
(At the same time as SESSION 62: CHATTERBOX TED AND THE DEAD ROAD RAIDERS)     ...Great Leader walked across the dais of the small conference room. She found the view less than impressive. Ursus was sitting front and centre, with perfect posture, still in his ratty leathers. It was probably some power move only a Legionary would understand.   A few seats over sat Liz Langley. Also in the front row, of course. Looking friendly and looking keen, trying to hide her fear.   And a row behind, Dominica, her eyes all welled up with worship. It would be insane for it to be the case, but she could be the weak link. Too loyal. No fire.   And off in the corner, closest to the exit, Fynn had turned his chair aside. He sat straight, but with the chair twisted. Mirabelle wished she could talk to the Institute scientists who designed the Synths' brains. They had made some puzzling choices.   She began, "Good morning. Ursus Dux will be planning your operations in detail, but I wanted to get the ball rolling. In subsequent missions, you'll be joined by an operator from California, and we are making a robotic assistant available. Chief Langley, how's that coming?"   Liz stood. She turned to the group, addressing the others like a child at the front of class: "The robotic assistant is almost complete. There have been some complications. The physical structure is mostly typical, but the code uses an interlaced scheme, which..."   "Liz," Great Leader interjected.   The vaultie's face collapsed with self-consciousness. When she spoke, it was with a stutter: "He'll be ready by mission date."   "Thank you, chief," Great Leader said. "We have already scooped up all the scepters we can find. We need to wait for leads before the crusade continues. In the meantime, I have another job for you."   Ursus finally talked, grumbling in a quiet growl, "This is redundant. You already gave us the briefing documents. It's a simple exfiltration."   "Firstly, I like redundancies. You're redundant," Great Leader declared sardonically. "Secondly, the mission is complicated. I want you to fetch me the greatest assassin in the world."   The team didn't know what to make of that. Liz looked astonished. Dominica was simmering with envy. Ursus was holding his face tight to hide his reaction. Not bad, actually.   Only Fynn spoke up, asking, "What's the complication?"   Mirabelle could feel that creepy grin grow on her face. After all of the shell games, all of the lessons she had had to teach herself, she couldn't keep that down. It was her fire, refusing to ever go cold.   Through the creepy smile that was more in her eyes than on her lips, with it, in it, she said, "The complication is that she doesn't exist."
   
  September 2nd, 2317
  (At the same time as SESSION 63: GO MIDWEST)     “…this fucking island,” Chuckie griped, whirling a tin cup of nuka-cola over their small fire.   “Oh, stop,” Sean said. “We finally got some good weather. The pond o’ sweat on my fuckin’ back finally dried up. A few more nights and we’ll be finished this duty. We’ll go back to Boston, and I’ll buy you a Gwinett down at the Taphouse.”   Chuckie furrowed his brow with thought. “How many nights is that, Sean? I feel like I’ve been staring at this fire forever. Have you ever been to Boston? Have I? Is it even a real fucking place?”   By his face, Sean still hadn’t seen thirty. But somewhere in his eyes there was tiredness that needed decades to build. There was a confusion in him which couldn’t quite reach sorrow. He said, “Best not to think about that.”   There was a noise in the woods, footsteps. Chuckie and Sean drew their sidearms, edging away from each other defensively. Liz Langley emerged from the darkness, walking nonchalantly, her hands in the air.   “You stop right there, miss!” Sean called out, his Institute Laser trained on her.   Liz took a deep breath. Her gaze was pointed upward, remembering something she had been told. She recited, carefully, “I am with a group who has already outmaneuvered you. I am here to tell you that if you want to live, you can surrender now. Oh, but if you make too much noise, they’re going to play with you.”   Chuckie looked out into the night and saw only the vague shapes of mutated trees. He spoke slowly, “We’re supposed to shoot you on sight. But let’s say you do have friends out there. How about you stop fuckin’ with us, point them out and we’ll let you keep breathing.”   “Fucking with you?” Liz said incredulously. “I tried to save you.”   Just then, a bullet zipped through the air and into Chuckie’s gun at the same time a bolt of pure energy caught Sean in the chest. Chuckie barely noticed his weapon shatter in his hand as he turned to see his friend struggle to breathe through a fist-sized hole in the middle of him.   He only caught a brief glimpse of this gruesome scene because a massive man charged into him, a round metal shield held forward. Obscisus Ursus, his shield, and all of his weight crashed into Chuckie, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him flat on his back. A moment later, there were two mechanical hands gripping his shoulders, holding him in place.   “Do you think this one knows where the database is?” a chipper voice announced in an English accent.   Chuckie looked above him and saw his captor. It was a strange, squat robot, round and bulky, with two expressionless red optical sensors.   “Pain first, questions later,” Ursus stated in a soft voice.   “Oh, yes, of course, Mister Dux, sir,” the robot replied.   And with that, it engaged its pneumatic fists, slowly increasing pressure on Chuckie’s shoulders until there were crunching noises and the man screamed. Dominica and Fynn emerged from the darkness, their eyes scanning around tactically.   Fynn noted, “The Synth could have a pain inhibitor. It’ll keep squirming for show, but there’s no sensation.”   “Worth a try,” Ursus said, “More pain. Feel for the brachial plexus, just behind the collarbone.”   The SchlockettBot turned his head to Liz, who nodded, saying, “When we’re on missions, do as Ursus Dux orders.”   Metal fingers sunk into Chuckie’s shoulders, digging into bundles of nerves. The restrained Synth stopped screaming and started to shake with spasms. He struggled to breathe through the agony.   “Here we go,” Ursus said calmly. “This is what we want -if it’s not a simulation. Chief Langley, come here and get a good look at this. We’ve got about ninety seconds before he passes out.”   Liz inched closer, hesitantly. She was shocked but knew better than to defy their captain.   Ursus addressed Chuckie, getting very close. He whispered, dispassionately, “Tell me where the database is, and the pain stops.”   Chuckie gasped, still shaking. He choked out words: “I don’t know for sure! All the hardware is in the observatory. Up the hill. I think all of it.”   “Good,” Ursus grumbled. “We’re done with this one.”   Fynn was already walking to a better vantage point, trying to scout the best path up the great hill. Dominica had knelt down and begun a cursory search of Sean’s body.   Despite what Ursus had said, the robot had not let go. It still had Chuckie by the shoulders, though its grip had loosened. The SchlockettBot looked up at Liz with its blank, wide-eyed non-expression.   It said, “Please, mummy, I’d like to see more pain.”   “Randy!” Liz called out in surprise. “No!”   The others turned to Langley. The vaultie was frightened by their gaze, especially the grim and towering Ursus. She took a step back in fear.   Obscisus Ursus sprouted a wide smile. Either one of the robot’s cruelty or the vaultie’s dismay would’ve tickled him. Together they were a delight.   “Alright, Randy,” the Dux intoned, “you’ve been a good boy. You can have your treat.”
   
  September 2nd, 2317
(At the same time as SESSION 61: POUND OF SCRAP)   ...The higher the authority of the suit who asked for a thing, the dirtier that thing was. If a beggar on the streets of Primm asked you for help, the task was likely better for your soul than it was good for the beggar. In contrast, nothing President Hayden wanted had any honour in it. There was always danger, but never any goodness to it.   He was in danger here, but he had forgotten how to panic. It had melted out of him thirty-five years ago, when a legionary's dirty bomb had reconstructed his body with its invisible energy.   This old air force base, Andrews, was a quiet place. Words were dangerous in this place. The Capitol personnel around here treated him like children at a funeral treated the body on display. They maintained a quiet, avoidant respect, but they all wanted a peak at the ghoul.   After days of nothing, he had finally been called to the officer's mess to meet with Great Leader. The area was kept so dark he had to take his helmet off to see. Maybe that was the point.   When she entered, the ghoul was unimpressed. Mirabelle Aditi was clearly a physically capable woman with observant eyes, but no mortal could live up to the legend of Great Leader. He waited for her to sit, saying nothing, but giving a slight nod of respect.   "Ranger Edwards," she began, "President Hayden has given you to me as a gift. And I suppose my first question is if forty Greeks are going to pop out of you."   Kyle Edwards was confounded. This woman seemed to speak right past him. She knew damn well that he didn't know what she was talking about. This was a probe, a provocation.   She just kept talking, saying, "When I first meet an operator, I always get their do-s and don't-s. And keep in mind, if you tell me a do, I'll make you go through with it just to see if you were telling me the truth."   Edwards squinted. He was still confused, but said, "I'm an NCR Ranger. I act for the good of my people. I do whatever needs to be done, but I'm only as brutal as I have to be."   "Would you kill a kid?" Great Leader asked, "On an important mission for the wasteland, of course."   "Legion soldiers are recruited at twelve," he said. "At that age, they use them as scouts."   Mirabelle acknowledged this with a simple, "Mmm-hmph." Then she asked, "Torture?" as if she was offering a snack.   "We..." Edwards stumbled over his words. "The Rangers, we've found that torture is an ineffective form of interrogation."   Great Leader smiled a slight, creepy smile and said, "Oh, I agree. But we must admit that torture has other applications. My favourite is as a threat. Say you were dealing with a ghoul, who was functionally immortal, capable of existing in a state of agony for centuries. The threat of torture might go a long way with him."   With a clenched jaw, he regretted leaving Michiko in his footlocker. There was his Sequoia revolver at his side, but that was it. He had no hope against dozens of The Capitol’s finest. Edwards could only sit and watch this Great Leader look back at him through a smile.   Eventually, she stood up, saying, "Your unit leader is Ursus Dux."   And then she just walked away, though she did turn to add, "If he returns from his mission. If he doesn't, I'll send you back to California, though I might keep a few things."   Kyle Edwards wondered if by "things" she meant his gear, his body parts, or both.
   
  September 2nd, 2317
  (At the same time as SESSION 63: GO MIDWEST)     …Soup.   “Soup,” she thought, dreamily. “I am a soup. The me leeched out of me at first in a cloud, slowly becoming a uniform, tasteless broth.”   Even the phantom pains were gone. At first, she had tried to move her fingers, it always started at the fingers. And there had only been the idea of fingers, a far away concept too remote to touch. Needing fingers which were not there had burned, itched, and ached. Until she was forced to accept that she was no longer real, if she had ever been.   She only wanted to join Richard. Richard. It would take his genius to convey this limbo. He would find a way to scrawl it on canvas, map out the shapes in colour until they crawled into your eyes and helped you understand the whole thing.   Over the decades, it had all gone blurry. Without a reality to draw symbols from, the dreams could not take shape. Even now, she thought she was looking into a formless, bright light. If she had eyes she would squint, guard herself from the intense input.   But then she actually was squinting. Microfine motors around her eye sockets engaged and disengaged, drawing rubbery lids together.   “Just take it easy,” a woman’s voice assured. “We’re friends.”   The body felt so cold. It was dull in its sensation, blocky and too big.   “Tourist,” a man’s voice now said. It was a rumbling, deep voice speaking with no emphasis. It continued, “Pasture. Delicate. Quantity.”   “NO!” her mind shrieked with a wail.   The panic was in her bones. She reached out into the light, seeking some way to pull free. Free. Strong hands materialized all around her new body, holding her down. Metal appendages gripped around her head, securing her tightly.   The man’s voice would not stop: “Chocolate. Poem…”   Her arms. They hadn’t secured her arms. There was hope after all. She drew her fingers precisely to the necks of her assailants and waited for warm streams of arterial blood to spill down onto her.   But there was nothing. She had simply touched two humans on their carotid arteries with her two plastic fingers. It was bizarre. Pathetic.   Ursus finished reading the command code. Keziah could feel her new form go limp.   This mouth, somehow simultaneously hers, not hers and now the property of this man, spoke: “Y0-01 ready for directives.”   “We need to activate her,” Fynn said harshly. There was a touch of alarm in his voice.   Liz Langley spoke up: “Wyatt advised against it. I barely got this body up and running. I don’t know what it will do.”   Obscisus Ursus looked to Dominica, who said, “There’s got to be thirty Gen 2’s out there. If this thing’s half as good as her reputation, we could use the help.”   Ursus intoned, “Great God Mars hates a coward.” And then, “Y0-01, we are in a tactical situation. We are looking to escape this island and make it three miles over the ocean to the coast, while keeping safe from radiation. There are many hostiles in this area, Gen 2 Synths. Protect this team from hostiles and warn us of any dangers you perceive.”   “Directives received and understood,” Keziah found herself saying.   The Impavidae Dux looked at the subject of their mission. Now released into a new Gen 2 Synth body, this master assassin didn’t look very dangerous.   He asked, “Do you need a weapon?”   Keziah leaped from the table in an acrobatic kip-up, landing softly on her feet. She hurled a fist into a nearby piece of machinery, testing this body’s capacities. The punch left a deep dent in the machine’s steel frame. She examined her hand, saw that the metal skeleton and plastic flesh had gone entirely unharmed.   “I guess not,” Ursus grumbled, mildly impressed.   A crash sounded from the other side of the room.   The team turned to see Randy staring at his fist. He had punched one of the machines as well, imitating Keziah.
   
  September 3rd, 2317
  (At the same time as SESSION 65: SMOKE, SLAVERY AND RUIN)     "...Dulce est desipere in loco!" the hulking Ursus called out, raising an entire jug of beer. The others joined him in the toast, even Randy, though he had neither a drink nor a mouth to swallow it.   Dominica then raised her mug, calling out, "A toast to our captain, I've never seen a braver son of a bitch. To Major Fynn, who sees so much. To Chief Langley, our quiet little bird, who is one of us, if you dig deep enough. To our guest, Ranger Edwards: even if you turn out to be a dipshit, just your coat makes us look cooler. To the robots who help. And, of course, we toast Great Leader in thankfulness and service."   There was drinking and laughter. Ursus said, "I wouldn't usually share an honour, but here's to all of you anyway. I hope each of you get your heart's desire. Except for Keziah, down in the cages. That thing would devour us. Never forget."   The five agents and their robot Randy sat around an old plastic table in the officer's mess, drinking beer and celebrating a successful mission.   There came a time when Liz Langley finally spoke up, asking, "What does Great Leader want? Like... what are we actually doing?"   The mood of the room withered. Ursus spoke first, saying, "You are living another day and avoiding the pain she could do to you. For my part, I am gathering the scraps Mirabelle throws me to build the greatest revenge story ever told."   "Revenge on who?" Major Fynn asked.   "Vengeance… for Edward Sallow," Ursus answered in a whisper.   Ranger Edwards was confused. He said, "Caesar Edward was assassinated by the Courier on behalf of Robert House. And both of them certainly blew up with the rest of New Vegas. Who's left to take this revenge on?"   "I can't explain Hegelian dialectics to you, voraciore. You Californians don't have the ears for poetry," the Dux grumbled.   There was another lull. The comradery in the room seemed to go up and down like ocean waves. Dominica then asked, "What do you want, Liz? Great Leader has ways of making impossible things happen."   Liz Langley was afraid. After all, she was surrounded by killers who had been throwing back alcohol. But it was clear that survival meant going with the flow. She played up her anxious, demure character as she said, "The Dux got it right. I'm trying to stay alive. The only thing I want is to get back to my family, my friends, and my job down in Vault 40."   A spray of beer erupted from Dominica's mouth in a frothy plume of surprise.   "VAULT 40!???"
   
  September 4th, 2317
  (At the same time as SESSION 67: SQUIRREL!)     ...The wall stood twenty feet high. Before the Great War, it must've been taller. Liz could see where the old jack studs had once been fitted to the outer posts. This distraction took long enough to annoy Dominica, who was hanging over the edge at the top, waiting for Liz to take her hand.   Liz complied, letting Dominica and Fynn pull her up. At the top, she could see Ranger Edwards, dressed in his full Ranger armour. He was hunched over at the base of a flagpole, working a crank to make a little flag rise.   "You have to take this seriously," Dominica grumbled. Her tone was harsh, but she was obviously being as polite as she could manage through the frustration.   "Why?" Liz answered, "I'm never going to be good at this stuff."   Just then, the flag on the pole reached its zenith, giving off a ringing clank noise. They had finished the obstacle course.   Ursus stood below with a stopwatch, looking grim. "Eleven minutes, sixteen seconds," the Legion warrior barked. "Pathetic. I should have you all whipped."   Fynn didn’t like being scolded and shouted back, "Chief Langley needs more time to train before trying things like this."   Ursus broke into a charge. For his massive size, he was light on his feet, crossing the distance in a split second. He dashed up the wall in one motion, not using any of the ropes. And then he was at the top, face to face with Major Fynn.   "Did I call for suggestions, major?" Ursus asked.   Fynn gave an odd smile and said, "Rome wasn't built in a day."   Ursus turned his gaze and his rage to Dominica. He growled through clenched teeth, "Your pet female is slowing the unit."   "Let me worry about that," Dominica answered calmly.   The Dux responded with a slow, sarcastic nod. He pantomimed scratching his head in puzzlement. And then, without even looking, he delivered a scissor kick into Liz Langley's solar plexus, sending her sailing off of the platform.   Liz landed on her back before she knew what hit her. She could feel wet mud pressing on the back of her head through matted hair. For a moment, not breathing was simply a fact that wasn't in her focus. Then she tried to draw air but couldn't, and that was a very different story. The middle of her ached with pain as she struggled for breath.   Randy padded over, his bulbous frame teetering as he moved. He stood over Liz, looking down at her curiously. His speaker asked, “Mummy, are you dead?”   “No, Randy,” Liz rasped. “I disappointed the Dux, and he is punishing me.”   “Oh,” the SchlockettBot said in surprise. He thought for a moment and then said, “Can I punish the Dux for disappointing me?”   “No, Randy. Help me up.”   Randy put out his pneumatic fist and lifted Liz to her feet with surprising gentleness.   Obscisus Ursus blew his whistle. It was time to form up and run the obstacle course again.
   
September 4th, 2317
  (At the same time as SESSION 68: THE HOUSE ALWAYS VOTES: A MUSICAL)     ...They always tried to deal. Every Enclave officer she had ever caught had been the same. They looked down on the wasteland, thought it was a place where anything could be bought. This one was no different.   Three Capitol soldiers were holding the Enclave woman, sure of their control of the operation. The unit captain struck her across the face. It was a stupid gesture. And with them was a Capitol special agent. She waited patiently, standing back and watching.   “If you just ask her, this one will answer,” the mysterious operative said.   The Capitol captain gave the Enclave officer another backhand, just to assert his authority. Then he said it: “Where is your averter?”   The Enclave woman was puzzled. She asked, “The food composter?” and got another punch for it. Only then she was given the opportunity to say: “It’s in the kitchen. Downstairs.”   The captain gave another order, and a crossbow bolt was put into the captive’s throat. She died, badly. The special agent saw a few of the soldiers flinch at the sight of it.   The agent followed the soldiers down to the kitchen. Enclave bunkers were dumps, they lived like rats. They scavenged off of dreams of a long-dead America like scrawny vultures. But they knew tech. The averter machine stuck out in the sparse kitchen, a complex machine with blinking lights and a small status screen.   The captain approached the white metal barrel, just four feet tall and three feet across. He looked at the display screen and could make no sense of it. There was a small tap and he opened it. Thick, clear fluid poured out in a slow drip. The Capitol officer put his hand into the liquid, rubbing the viscous stuff between his fingers.   “This is it?” he asked. “This keeps The Puppetmaster from seeing you?”   “I’m going to open the averter,” said the special operative. “Everybody take your RadAway.”   The troops reached into their gear and retrieved their doses of RadAway. But the captain was skeptical. He said, “Our orders were just to secure this bunker and locate the averter.”   “I have additional orders,” the woman said confidently, “and they come from Great Leader herself.”   “With all due respect, agent,” the soldier said in a patronizing tone, “you are my assistant in this operation. I cannot allow you to compromise my objectives.”   “You have yourself a choice then, captain.” The strange woman began smiling, a creepy smile more in her eyes than on her lips. “Either I’m acting on my own authority, and then you’d be a good boy if you humored me. Or I’m acting on Great Leader’s authority, in which case, you’d be a very bad boy if you disobeyed me.”   The captain looked at her for a long moment. And then he said, “Alright, Wyatt. But I’ll have some words for you in my report.”   He took his RadAway. Good boy. The rest of the unit saw and took theirs. Everyone waited for the chem to kick in. One could always feel the warm sensation of RadAway, protective energy running through your veins.   And they certainly felt it. The soldiers began to writhe in pain. The captain was the first to take it, so he crumpled first. One of the troops managed to grab at her crossbow. Wyatt kicked it aside lazily. The young woman, just a private, looked up in confusion and rage at the betrayal. And Great Leader looked right back, watched as the neurotoxin ate at her brain’s ability to make her body breathe. The soldier started shaking as the end came. Mirabelle put her foot on the woman’s chest, speeding the passing by a few seconds.
  With the observers gone, Great Leader could continue her agenda. The averter had a massive metal cap, secured with heavy bolts. She retrieved the pipe wrench from her bag and set to work. It was a miserable job; the bolts had been fastened tight decades ago and never loosened. But she put all her weight into turning them. A few of the bolt heads needed to be chiseled out. It took hours. By the end she was sweaty and tired, in this awful little hole, in the middle of nowhere.   Invading Dixie had its privileges. There was a whole set of vaults and Enclave cells the hillbillies were too stupid to raid. What kind of depraved, toothless morons aren’t interested in secrets? It would take The Capitol five hundred years to restructure the place. If the generals wanted to fix Dixie, they should just depopulate.   “You’re starting to think like Enclave,” Mirabelle scolded herself, deep in her own mind. “Isn’t that what they say? If you hunt monsters long enough, you’ll become one. No. The scepters. We’ve earned it.”   At last, Mirabelle pushed the heavy metal cap off the averter. Warm, musky air poured out of the strange contraption. It was an earthy, biological smell, like fertile soil. She shone a light inside and saw.   “Shit,” she announced through an exhale. “Well, that answers that.”   She stepped back. There was only one thing to do. Great Leader drew a cigarette from her case and lit it. The first drag was always best. And then the next was worse. Then the next was worse than that, the way of the world.      
  September 5th, 2317
  (Same time as SESSION 69: MOUNT VERNON)     "Yeah, I'm sorry. She gets like that," Ranger Edwards said, searching through the many pockets of his long coat.   Obscisus Ursus looked at the Californian skeptically. Meanwhile, the bizarre weapon buzzed and vibrated in the Legionary's sizable hand. But when Edwards retrieved a small taser, the movement stopped.   "Michiko?" the ranger asked in a patronizing tone.   There was a moment, and then the weapon answered, shouting, "Kutabare, surēbudoraiba!" in an angry, high-pitched voice.   Ranger Edwards pressed his taser to the plasma pistol, putting an electric charge through its body.   Ursus looked on curiously at the weapon in his hand and said, "If you shock me, I'll strangle you."   "Oh, calm down," Edwards said. "It's a very small charge for a big man like you. But not for her. To her, it's very unpleasant." And then he asked, "Michiko?"   The girl's voice came out again, but exhausted this time. It answered with a simple, "Yes?"   The ranger spoke clearly and loudly. "I'm showing you to Obscisus Dux. So… you are going to fire for him. As much as he likes."   "Anata ga kirai desu," Michiko spat in bitter tone.   Edwards continued, "You know, if you insist on misbehaving, I'll have to shock you again. Nobody wants that. So, do yourself a favour and be sweet for me. Okay?"   "Hai," Michiko said, defeated.   Ursus, entirely unbothered by the scene, lifted Michiko and fired downrange. A pumpkin-sized sphere of glowing green energy streaked through the air and decimated both a paper target and the steel frame which held it up.   "That's actually impressive," Ursus grumbled. "The aim assist is very comfortable."   "Michiko can feel the subtleties of your grip. The more you shoot with her, the more she adapts to your style," Edwards explained. "The power is coming from a frequency integrator. It supercharges the plasma somehow."   Ursus shot again and then said, "No Californian made this."   "No," the ranger agreed. "The integrator is Enclave, taken in a raid. After two years, our engineers couldn't make heads or tails of it. So, they gave it to me to put on Michiko."   "And who made the weapon?" the monstrous Dux asked.   Edwards shrugged, "No idea. I found her in a mountain shack in Utah. I know there are others popping up in the southwest, but no one seems to know anything. NCR gunsmiths have pulled Michiko apart and put her back together a hundred times. It's all too advanced for them. The generals are bit scared that someone out there can do this."   Ursus gave a mildly interested grunt and fired three more shots in quick succession. He asked, "Did it always speak this strange language?"   "Oh, she speaks English just fine," Edwards explained. "She just swears in Japanese when she's mad. That behavior is all original. Apparently, all of these talking weapons have big, unique personalities. I guess the designer was having fun."   Obscisus Ursus took careful aim. Then a slow, quiet laughter began to rumble in him. Ranger Edwards leaned forward to see what was so funny. He saw that Michiko had used her gyros to turn in Ursus's hand, straining to aim back at the Dux.   Edwards sighed and reached for his taser again.
  September 9th, 2317
  (Will happen the night of Sept 9)     The room was dark, save for a single oil lamp flickering gently. Obscisus Ursus slipped a long, thin blade between the wooden panels and gave a twist. The decorative display case cracked with a moaning creak. Ursus pushed his massive weight into the effort, chipping wood away and revealing the small screws holding the case together. Now it would be simple to bypass the lock and get the Scepter of the North within.   There was a soft click in the shadows. Ursus looked up to see a middle-aged man brandishing a heavy revolver. The stranger was broad-shouldered and held his head straight. Ursus knew a Brotherhood paladin when he saw one.   The Legionary held is hands up and said, "I can't help but notice you haven't shot me yet."   The paladin replied in a quite voice, "I don't want your friends to bolt."   "Who said I have friends?" Ursus growled through a smirk.   The Brotherhood officer glanced to a side window: "You came in with at least one accomplice. I had troops encircle behind as you broke in. They're closing in right now."   "That's a damn fine maneuver, Midwest." Obscisus Ursus dropped his hands casually. "You have my respect. And you could have my favour. I have wealth to share."   "Capitol wealth," Paladin Hector grumbled. "I know who you're working for."   Despite having a gun pointed at his neck, Ursus bristled, saying, "I work for no one but Caesar Edward."   Tycho Hector rolled his eyes and sighed. The two soldiers stood there, waiting in silence for a long moment. The paladin began to look impatient, stretching to look out the window again.   "Your servants are late," Ursus purred. "Tell me, please. If our roles were reversed, if I had you at gunpoint, how would you like to be treated?"   "Shut up," Hector ordered. He ducked towards a wall to take better cover. The Legionary stood in the lamplight, feeling no need to be defiant.   Outside, on the lawn, six Brotherhood knights lay dead. Each of their faces was frozen in a grimace. Hands, grey-white polymer hands, had come for each of them. Dying quietly was a matter of stolen air: ribs broken, windpipes crushed, spines severed above C3. Taking them all simply meant approaching in the right order.   "I hate letting my enemies walk away," Ursus said, "but I really, really hate being shot."   Paladin Hector had felt in control of the situation, had made a good plan. Somehow, it had all drained away. This smug Legion kid had an ace up his sleeve. Maybe more than one. Hector crouched closer to the wall, but there was no more room to hide. He raised his revolver, ready to shoot.   Ursus smiled.   He could see behind the old soldier. Through the windowed door, there was a shape out there, looming in the darkness:   Keziah's twisted face.  
September 9th, 2317*
  (At the same time as Session 84: Off the Rails to Muncie.)     The vertibird’s rotors were noisy. It was the lubricants. The great machines had been engineered to need hi-tech synthetic oil. Corn oil and brahmin tallow could never quite do the job.     Wyatt looked across the cabin to ambassador Olayinka. The middle-aged woman was handsome and professorial. She was dressed like a diplomat; the strong shoulders of her blazer were stiff and formal. When dressing herself, she had ignored the directives Great Leader had given.   "So, in Cascadia, is there any co-operation between the Survival Clubs?" Olayinka asked loudly, apparently unaware that her headset worked at a normal speaking voice.   "Only in defense, ambassador," Wyatt replied. The agent reached for a cigarette, but remembering where she was, she stopped herself. "These Cascadians are anarchists, they're prideful about defying authority. The only thing that makes them come together is protecting each other from authority."   Ambassador Olayinka's face curled with distaste. She shouted again, asking, "Then why are we meeting with these people?"   Wyatt smiled her cruel smile that was more in her eyes than on her lips and said, "Because Great Leader said so."   ...   The Cascadians were living up to their reputation as filthy mountain people. They had been received at a Pre-War homestead called Henderson House. The tiny pioneer's home was laughably small and rustic. They had offered the ambassador no gifts, only a snack of purified water and smoked tumorfish. Seeing Olayinka's face react to this treatment had made the trip worthwhile on its own.   Their leader here in Olympia (if he could even be called a leader), was a stout, middle-aged man named Hank Kwan. He was polite, but clearly wanted to project strength. The Capitol was invading nations just now and he wanted them to feel in their bones that it would be a doomed effort to try to take Cascadia. The fool didn't realize it made her want to conquer them more.   Wyatt watched the ambassadors speak, and watched the entourages watch each other.   "On matter 23, we do have something to report," Hank Kwan announced.   Olayinka was upset. "Ambassador," she intoned, "we haven't resolved matter 3 yet."   "You're right," Kwan agreed in frustration. "I see no movement on it. We don't allow incursions on our land. No outposts, no embassies, not even a trading posts. Each Cascadian's land is their own. We are sovereign citizens, earned in blood. So, I am moving on to a topic we can actually speak about."   The Capitol ambassador was livid. But being a trained diplomat, she swallowed her angry indignation and made a gesture for Hank to go on.   Kwan said, "For the Pre-War artifact, this Scepter of the Northwest, we can confirm that it was stored in the Olympia State House before the war. There is a display case. Unfortunately, the item is missing. No one around here has bothered with that building in a century or more. We can only guess that the item was looted in the early days after the Great War."   "Of course, we would pay well for any leads as to the whereabouts of the Scepter, should any information emerge," Olayinka said politely.   The diplomats went back to their useless negotiations. Wyatt abruptly excused herself, stomping into the back yard and lighting up a cigarette. She inhaled deeply, only taking in the view once her craving had been abated. This was very pretty country, with towering trees which still managed a deep green. The property stood above a lake, which glittered in the summer sun. And out on the horizon, she could see a little pillar of smoke.   Far in the distance, Mount Rainier was smouldering. Volcanic energy was building up there, strong enough to melt through miles and miles of the earth's crust. Some day it would erupt, enveloping the Cascadians in three-thousand-degree ash, petrifying their defiant bodies in their modest little homes.   "I like your style, Rainier," Wyatt muttered to no one in particular.
   
  September 8th, 2317
    (At the same time as SESSION 82: CAPO! MY CAPO!)     The vertibird's engines whined with exertion as the vehicle climbed away from the city known as The Rails.   "What the hell was that!?" Ranger Edwards shouted into the telecom.   There was no reply in the screeching vehicle. Agent Dominica, her wide-brimmed hat sitting low, didn’t acknowledge him at all. Undeterred, the NCR Ranger kept complaining.   Major Fynn, the waxy-skinned Synth, was piloting the vertibird to a quick exit. He simply reached up to the cockpit’s upper panel and switched off Edward's channel, silencing him.   Fynn dispassionately announced, "Chief Langley, you're not strapped in."   Liz Langley sat in one of the rear seats, crumpled in a slouch and lost and thought. She looked out at the sky blankly.   Fynn finally cracked, shouting, "I am going to BANK. Strap the vaultie down or she's going to fall the fuck out!"   This roused Randy the SchlockettBot, who would brook no aggression against his mummy. Randy leaped from the hold of the vehicle into the cockpit. The robot and the pilot began to wrestle with the flight levers.   Seeing this, Liz snapped back to reality. She drew the remote robot control console from her work belt and pointed it at Randy. In an instant, the SchlockettBot's eyes dimmed, and he froze.   Dominica stepped in, barking, "We're far enough. There's a Capitol border station right there. Land now!"   ...   Minutes later, they had touched down within The Capitol. At first, no one spoke. Even Fynn and Edwards, who were sharing a bottle of whiskey, did so in silence.   Dominica began: "Timeline. We were with the Railmaster, pushing him. And in walked the bleeding hearts. I started taunting to get a fight going, until I looked over to see our NCR backup hadn't come. What the fuck, Edwards?"   The NCR Ranger twisted his head and said, "They were along the north side, just as ordered."   Dominica growled, furious, "I didn't give that order."   "No," Major Fynn interjected. "Great Leader did. The NCR troops had to be far from their ambassador, so he could be murdered. They were put on the north side of the Temple in order to ambush the Midwest team coming out."   Dominica's eyes tightened at the sound of these words. There were secrets and lies. But worst of all, Great Leader had trusted this person-shaped machine over her loyal, human subject. She muttered, "To ambush them, after WE had been killed."   "IF we had been killed," Fynn corrected.   There were sighs and a moment where they couldn't stand the sight of each other.   "Okay. Sure. Cool." Ranger Edwards stammered sardonically. "So, what the fuck was up with you announcing that we were enemies of The Rails and all that shit?"   Dominica pulled at her hair in frustration and said, "I don't know. I had to say it, more than anything. It was like I was riding in my body as a passenger."   Liz Langley had been sitting quietly on an outcropping of stone, thinking quietly to herself. But after hearing these words, she asked, "Could you feel the lights?"   Ranger Edwards took an awkward step back, confounded by the absolute absurdity of the question.   "I'm not sure what you're saying, chief," Dominica shot back, annoyed.   Liz took a deep, pensive breath. She asked again: "There was an electric light near the doorway, a big one. Think about it. It would've been just to the right of the mutant. Could you feel it?"   With that, Dominica's demeanour changed. She mumbled, "Yeah. It wasn't that bright, but it made me want to wince."   "Like the light was a pain in your head?" Liz asked, adjusting her glasses nervously.   "...Yeah"   "Okay," Edwards moaned. "Just what the hell are we even talking about?"   "Something crazy," Liz answered. "I have a theory, and it's absolutely batshit. But we have to check it as soon as possible. Because if I'm right, we have serious problems."   "How big?" Fynn asked.   "Bigger than the war."  
    September 11th, 2317     "Put another book on the fire," he growled half-heartedly. "I can hardly see your bulbous head."   "As I've stated before," Larry Lifter said, "these are Mister Schlockett's books."   Obscisus Ursus did not reply with words. Instead, he lifted Michiko the PlasmaBuddy and let off a shot. One of the SchlockettBots, a clerk named Kent, exploded in a shower of sparks.   Larry did not breathe, yet his speaker gave out an audible sigh. He leaned over, took up Arthur Schlockett's leather-bound copy of the complete works of Shakespeare, and threw it on the fire.   The open study of Schlockett Manor echoed with the crackling of burning pages as the fire roared. This had been Arthur's favourite place, where he did his design work. The visionary had always been more at home in his own mind than out in the world of people. Larry thought to himself what the creator would think, looking at his All-American City today. For 200 years, the streets had been patrolled by angry, homicidal SchlockettBots. Treasure hunters, drifters, and even just travelers sheltering from the elements had been slaughtered here. The city of the future had become one giant trap.   That was until the Heroes of St. Louis came and cleaned the place out. The malfunctioning robots had been liquidated, destroyed as an act of self-defence, with Betty Bagger leading the loyal bots to take their home back. But they could not leave, and the newcomers could not manage to reprogram them. They had slept for months, until the Reavers had brought a rescue team. They were free for a few short months, sending pilgrims to go find the Son of Schlockett.   Then these two monsters, Ursus the Legionary and his evil mannequin, arrived this afternoon.   They must've climbed the canyon face to reach these hanging streets of All-American City. Betty Bagger had been the first to die. She had been targeted because of her leadership, no doubt. It was a precise and tactful assassination, as though these two knew exactly what they were doing.   With Betty gone they were in disarray. The Reavers had come to awaken them earlier in the summer. But with only three months of autonomy, it was easy to fall back into servile helplessness. Ursus had waved around a cattle prod, barking orders. His accomplice was worse, in its own way. The greying thing with the mismatched eyes skulked and hid like a wounded dog. And when approached, it lashed out just as ferociously. They had already smashed thirty ShlockettBots, most beyond repair.   Larry Lifter's daydreaming was cut short as Ursus began shouting again. He called, "You have devices. From the Doloremos, what you would call Vault 44."   The group of SchlockettBots standing in the study looked at each other quizzically.   "We had many of these devices, years ago," Larry explained. "A group of your Vault 44 friends came to this place. They were killed. Their belongings were sorted and put into storage."   "Then go get them!" Urus shouted as he stood, throwing his fist in the air like a conductor.   Larry Lifter craned his robotic head up to meet Obscisus Ursus's gaze and said, "You didn't let me finish. The Reavers took them when they woke us up. All but one."   The Legionary's face twisted, and he screamed, "So then bring that one, you tin buffoon!"   Just then, another SchlockettBot entered the study. She was a seamstress bot. Her name was Sally or Sarah, Larry could never remember. The bright blue seamstress announced, "There's someone at the monorail station! A human. They have a bicycle and courier's bag."   With this news, the Legionary’s countenance changed.   After a moment of thought, Ursus ordered, "Larry, bring the Vault 44 device to the monorail station. And sound the shift change whistles, that will signal Keziah that it's time to leave. You do that, and I'll let you fly free, you silly imitation of a man."   "Nothing would give me more pleasure," Larry shot back.   …   Arthur Schlockett's dream community was entirely suspended on giant arms over a canyon. The design made the city earthquake proof, flood proof and limited the structure's impact on erosion and arable land. Unfortunately, he had never populated it with the humans it was meant to service. And then the bombs fell.   The old monorail station was the best maintained part of the hanging city. The homicidal branch of the SchlockettBots had wanted it to look clean and inviting, all the better for their trap. Their train still looped from the canyon side into the city once an hour with a roaring rush of air every time it passed.   Obscisus Ursus and Keziah stepped out of the train and onto the approach platform, All-American City a beautiful collection of lights in the night behind them. The radiant light of phosphorus lamps lit the station in glowing pools of blueish white. A cadre of SchlockettBots, including Larry Lifter, waddled behind them.   And, just as stated, there was a courier on a bicycle waiting at the front gate of the station. She was a petite human woman, weather-beaten with skin tanned from cycling out in the sun. When she saw the group approach her, she reached into her satchel and lifted a letter.   Loretta shouted, "Hi there! I'm a courier from out East. I have a letter for Betty Bagger?"   Ursus did not hurry as he crossed the station's clean white tiles. His sandaled feet made no audible noise behind the cacophony of SchlockettBot feet clank-clank-ing across the station floor. The broad-shouldered, muscular man towered over the small courier.   Obscisus Ursus reached out a hand.   "Betty Bagger?" Loretta asked sheepishly.   "She is indisposed," Ursus assured her, "but I am authorized to read this message."   Larry Lifter nodded to the courier slowly and she gave up the letter. Ursus took it up and tore open the envelope gingerly. He put a finger to the centre of the page and read down quickly.   "Well, isn't that sweet," the Legionary intoned. "Larry, it looks like you've come into some money. Seems Arthur Schlockett left his entire estate to his robots. You are all the Sons, Daughters and various children of Schlockett."   Larry was flabbergasted. He asked, "Says who?"   Ursus gave and amused grin and said, "This is the signed testimony of one Assistant Andy."   Larry's mechanical processes were all fluttering with excitement. He thought, "One of the pilgrims had found something! And not just the Son of Schlockett, but the secret to all SchlockettBot life. Oh, Andy. What a beautiful name. Andy!"   Ursus gave just the slightest sign to Keziah, and she leaped into action. The pale, false flesh of her arm shot out and grabbed Loretta the courier by the throat. The Generation 2 Synth used her unusual strength to lift the woman up by her throat.   Larry Lifter couldn't stand this. He was a peaceful robot, but this was too much even for him. He raised his Schlockett Laser Hand and charged it… …and found his arm blown off at the shoulder. Ursus had drawn his living plasma gun in a hip-fired quick draw. Larry couldn't believe his optic sensors. He had almost been blown in half. The other SchlockettBots cowered in terror.   "Don't worry, Larry," the Legionary said, "I won't let you die until you see."   After that, Ursus scooped up the Vault 44 device, a strange high-tech headband. He made his way to the choking courier and put it over her head. He clicked a switch on the headband's side and Loretta began to shake.   "The Doloremos are a strange people who worship pain," Ursus explained. "They say setting one is agony and setting two is even worse." He clicked up the headband and the affected woman gave out a hoarse scream. "But most interesting is setting three. Three is a pleasure so intense that it kills the one who experiences it. Perhaps it's something devoutly to be wished."   The large man clicked the headband into the third position. Loretta only shook for a moment, before her breath left her entirely. Keziah marched to the canyon edge and dropped the young woman as if she were garbage.   Then Ursus turned to the crowd which had gathered and announced, "Gentle robots, bear witness to the displeasure of Obscisus Ursus. You see, I have a friend named Little Skippy. But I don't like him. I don't like that he has friends. And he has these friends named Lex and Linda and Andy. They're your friends. So, I don't like you. People I don't like feel pain, pain like this."   Ursus reached to a pouch at his belt and retrieved a radio transmitter. Keziah had spent all day setting the charges. Before the SchlockettBots even registered what was happening, Ursus had given the signal. High explosives, planted at each of All-American City's struts rapidly oxidized. Their rapid oxidation was overwhelming exothermic, melting the metal beams holding the city in place. Five hundred thousand tons of city came crashing down into the canyon.   Arthur Schlockett's dream was lost in rubble, dust, fire and crushed SchlockettBots.   Larry Lifter found himself bellowing a loud, open moan of sorrow. It was an animal noise that boiled up from inside him - living noise.   "Now, Larry," Ursus spat, "now you cand die."
     
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Forever Fallout, Missouri 2317
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123jimbly
Publication Date
21 Nov, 2022
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21 Nov, 2022
Last Update Date
28 Apr, 2024
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Capitol The Capitol Great Leader Task Force Task Force Blue Ursus Obscisus Ursus villains Wyatt Mirabelle WyWy Liz Langley Langley scepters Dominica Fynn Mouse Edwards Randy SchlockettBot Kyle NCR Ranger Andrews AFB Keziah averter Michiko Schlockett Larry Lifter Loretta

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