Damon Felson must die

by John Wallace the II

Chapter one- The Impossible Task

“Not one NCR soldier will ever set a boot down in Clark County Nevada under an official capacity for the Republic. Clark County will remain an independent nation, you can bet my administration on that.”- President Davis of the New California Republic

Private Richard glazed at the purple and blue neon sky spread before him like a glossy planetarium and knew that this was the mission that he'd always trained for. He had been nervously sitting in the fireteam glider ever since listening to President Davis' speech in the Talon's, the NCR's prize and fastest airship and flying aircraft carrier's, hanger preparing for what he knew would be his last mission. Pvt. Richard had never pictured himself ending his career this way but figured that it was as good of a way to finish things as any other. The prevailing winds were going against the grain of the Talon which meant the pilot had to get closer to Vegas than had previously planned to place his team's glider in range putting the entire airship at danger. It was clear the newly created NCR Air Force was not going to be able to properly extract the team and they would be on there own when it came to getting out of Clark County.

Sergeant McLane, Pvt. Richard's leader for this expedition, promptly sat down at the head of the multi-seat glider and and closed its front entrance. After buckling into her seat and and then adjusting her radio headset she began to speak to the men behind her.

“Men!” Sgt. McLane screamed trying to overcome the roar of the Airship's engines over her units headsets. “We are about to return to the Rangers roots, of overthrowing despots and dictators. I hope there isn't someone here who is not prepared to die for that cause because death might be our only way back to freedom tonight.”

Pvt. Richard's mind paused with the thought of seeing the free soil of California again but he knew that he had signed up for the life of a Ranger, and that no one had forced him to join their ranks and certainly no one had forced him to sign up for the NCR's paratrooper corps either. He had practiced this mission many times back west and Pvt. Richard was no stranger to dangerous operations. but what they were doing today was the riskiest mission any NCR special operators had undertaken since the death of Legate in the east.

Today Sgt. McLane was determined to see another despots head added to the NCR mantle and Damon Felson de facto leader of the Vegas Strip was by far a more worthy challenge than Legate had ever been during the Legion's breakup and civil war.

“You all have already been briefed of the plan and know our objective: to kill Damon Felson. We have no greater goal than his death and the disabling of the Lucky 38 computer network. We've practiced the landing process a million times before and our extra hardware on board this glider will ensure we breach the Lucky 38's penthouse in one piece. When we are released from the Talon will we glide directly into the Penthouse floor of Lucky 38 with our reinforced glider.”

Private Pvt. Richard quickly thought to himself that they would be as good as dead if the Talon's pilot miscalculated the launch and they instead crashed into the slightly lower and concrete hull of the Lucky 38 skyscraqer.

Sgt. McLane had continued while Pvt. Richard was thinking, “From our understanding of the Lucky 38 military complex the only way into the underground production complex is by overriding the central computer network at the top of the tower and left there by the late Mr. House. After enabling your descent into the Lucky 38's network of bunkers you are to kill Damon Felson and any key figures in his regime you happen to run across. This mission is critical for the installation of a more California friendly regime in the Mojave and should this mission fail said failure will probably result in war between the NCR and the forces of Clark County.”

Pvt. Richard felt the full weight of every word the sergeant said through the grainy radio feed and began doing last minute checks over his uniform and equipment. He wore standard Riot Armor of a dark blue (near black) and brown hue of the Rangers with a special paratrooper patch on his left upper arm that bore green, red and white, the colors of the Republic. He had on a standard Ranger helmet too with its plated metal painted dark blue and the radio antenna that was his life line to the world around him. With the deafening roar of the Talon's engines he would not have been able to hear any of his fellow privates sitting inches away from him, let alone Sgt. McLane and her instructions without the aid of his radio communicator.

As the ships moved over Nevada Pvt. Richard couldn't help but laugh at President Davis' words earlier that night in his emergency address that reached all four corners of the Southwest. Given how no NCR troops were supposed to enter Clark County the fact that the Talon was only minutes away from the heart of the county, Vegas, made him nervously laugh.

In the cockpit of the glider, Sgt. McLane adjusted her helmet and strapped herself in. She also knew that none of the Rangers assembled on this mission would be likely to return and even the egg headed officers back at command had alerted her that this mission had a low probability of not only success but also survival. She knew was leading a four man fireteam into the heart of a Cazarodes nest with no reasonable way to escape but she had faced similar odds before. McLane was scarred and hardened from her time fighting against Caesar's Legion. Legend had it she had earned her stripes by taking the final blow to Legate in hand to hand combat. For her this would simply be another trip to the waters edge.

The other members of this team were equally capable for the job if there existed a crew that was. Sitting next to Pvt. Richard Richard in the four man glider was Corporal Horatio Gates also a veteran of the Legion campaign and sniper at the Second Battle for Hoover Dam in which he had a confirmed kill list of 7 Legion Centurions.

In the rear of the glider was the teams grenadier, Corporal James Belfort the son of a rich ranching family from back west. The story with Belfort was that after a raid on his families ranch, back when he was nothing but a snot nosed kid, he was forced to watch his world breakdown in front of his eyes by the raiders of the week. As soon as he turned 17 he signed up for the NCR Army and never looked back. In his time in the Rangers Belfort had spent most of his days battling raiders and the Brotherhood of Steel in Southern California, which was fine with him considering how much he hated the former and enjoyed killing the latter. Many back in the NCR who followed the fight against the Brotherhood of Steel would remember how invaluable his ordinance had been at the Battle for Maxson Hill.

Indeed it seemed on the surface that Pvt.Richard was untested and out of his range sitting among such combat experienced veterans in the cramped wooden and steel glider but no one in the glider that night, to include Sgt. McLane knew of his work in Baja right before the Second Battle for Hoover Dam, that ended up freeing the Veteran Rangers and other military units to enter the Mojave Campaign.

Pvt. Richard continued to check his gear, making sure his M16 was on safety for the glide into the Lucky 38 and that he had his spare rounds of ammunition at the ready for himself and the fireteam. Most importantly Pvt. Richard looked over his pulse grenades which would make short work of even Vegas' fabled Mark II bots. Or at least he hoped they would.

Taking a quick look around the glider he could see that the rest of his comrades were doing the same, and then a funny thought entered his mind. With these uniforms and armor on you could not even tell a persons gender let alone smaller points like race or religion. How much easier human history would of played out if only that had reigned true outside of this slim context of war?

Just as Pvt. Richard finished his gear checks Sgt. McLane began a private talk with command through her antenna and suddenly the hanger bay floor inside the NCRS Talon folded back revealing bright white clouds imprinted with Vegas' incandescent lights. A massive hook attached to a system of pulleys that was attached to the roof of the glider began to slowly lower it until the entire craft was freely hanging from under the Talon much like a prewar ski lift.

No one in the glider said anything as the hook released the glider at over 100 MPH. The glider had only one window which was more like a viewing slit reserved for Sgt. McLane. Most NCR gliders Pvt. Richard had seen had larger observation ports for the inside crew, but he guessed that this glider lacked that sense it was designed for ramming into a roulette wheel turned skyscraqer.

As the glider sailed closer to the Lucky 38's penthouse Pvt. Richard noticed Sgt. McLane press a large red button on the small glider control panel that she operated. After hitting the button the entire crew heard the gratifying roar of several jury rigged missile launchers open fire and strike the top floor of the Lucky 38. The concrete obelisk to sin was rocked to its core with all of the windows smashed out at once and the iron tower spouting forth a fury of gunfire and a return of rockets directly at the glider as it made its rapid crash landing into the former Penthouse suite turned government control center.

Sgt. McLane only had a small quip to say before the glider made impact.

“No one is allowed to die before Damon Felson.”