Welcome to my first Fallout fan fiction, and yes - it is my first, and it's also a short. It's a little nod to DoW's intorduction cinematic which became somehwat famous amongst Warhammer fans.

Before we get started i just wan't to say this does not follow exact Fallout law, so don't post making a comment about the Pitts being liberated before the creation of the Outcasts, or anything such as that as this is my representation of Fallout, not the Wiki's.

Enjoy! Don't forget to flame if you don't like it. :flamethrower:

Brother Carmine's muzzle fire clawed at the consuming darkness, each round revealing a clearing of light, of death that etched itself onto his mind and mingled with the dire cacophony of the Super Mutant's war chants. Bestial yells flooded through the derelict alleys and cut Carmine's already tortured ears, power helmets, even outcast's have no defence against Hell's voice.

"Down! Heavy weapons the bastards have heavies'!"

Even through Command Brother Johnston's helmet, the mangled synthetic tones were obviously that of burning danger.
Carmine leapt for the ground, his black steel armour pounding the earth as spears of fire lanced above them. The black night lit, the streaming missiles formed dancing shadows that lived and died, the gun residue weaving through them as if draping them in grey attire. Lurching against the sandbags, Carmine felt a warm feeling inside as Johnston slid beside him, even if he was caked in blood, and his helmet chewed by raking gun fire.

"Johnston, it's an honour to die beside you, since the day you rescued me from the Pitts, I've loved you, like I loved my Father, and no matter how much of a fragger he may have been." Carmine spurted out, feeling embarrassment at his lack of attention to battle, and releasing his feelings.

The drone of bombardment filled the air, yet no familiar synthetically distorted voice pierced the melancholic tune of battle. "Jonnie? Jonnie! Ah Christ! Medic someone get me a dammed medic!"

"Medics dead kid, put him to sleep!" The hollow voice of Paladin Thompson reminded Carmine he was to die, enter the blackness that veiled the night for eternity.

"I'm gonna' make you proud, Johnson, even if it ends like this!" Carmine bolstered himself on, releasing a stimpack catch and thrusting it into his naked wrist, and doing the same to his Comrade's, though using lethal doses of Med ? X. Suddenly as if they never were, the lattice of rockets that had flew overhead, forcing the squad into a defensive prone, evaporated into the sky of the Wasteland, leaving only the fiery light residue caused scars on the eyes of the Outcast's.

As silent as the electro hum of a plasma rifle, Carmine leapt to his feet, forcing his rifle butt into his chest, squeezing the trigger and firing in wild sprays as through the darkness the lumbering figures of the mutants trudged slowly through the night, quiet now, savouring the kill.

Carmines helmet did little to mask his fear, as he felt himself convulse inside his protection, the insides of the helmet filling with acids and radiation beset water, his gun dropped as the last clip emptied, and then it became apparent; They were dead, his fellows dead, and he rejoiced that he'd proven himself to be more than a raider, and his smile lived on through the tearing rifle shots to his torso, dropping to his knees Carmine had never felt happier.

Sounds like Warhammerish !!

There's such a thing as having so much description it starts to lose meaning...

Yeah your right, i just like things to be to the reader, as they are in my head.

Well I think the description was fine.
And I also think that maybe if the person just got busy reading and not paying attention to how much description there was then they wouldn't complain about it.
I never found it hard to illustrate what was happening in my head.

Cheers.