Its good to see you back buddy, and I'm glad I took the time to check the forum in this break from celebrating Christmas. I just want you to know this has been my favorite fan-fic. I actually planned on making a chapter in my own fan-fic into a nodd to this one. You really gave me a standard of writing to reach on this forum, and I'm happy to have read this. I'll be waiting for the end with abated breath.

Markeh12?

Great chapter, glad you wrote it, as sad as I will be to see the story end, I know it will be a great ending, and you will not disappoint!

Do note that I put this up at 3:37 in the morning. I'm just glad I got a name that started with 'M' and the right number.



I'm honored to hear you say that, and I'm glad that you enjoyed it. Lord knows how good the people of this forum have been to me, I'm just happy to contribute.

Awesome as always. I can't wait for the epic three-way battle between the Super Mutants, Brotherhood, and the Enclave. I know you won't dissapoint.

It's a Christmas Miracle. It was a great chapter.

I'm not sure I agree. Details are nice but can be very misused and, to be honest, your example is a great example of how details can be misused. Details yes, but don't overdo it. There's also supposed to be a story

Well Dracath, I spent most of last evening reading this without pause. Man, most books don't hook me even close to this... What caught me the most was that you managed to tell battles and combat WELL, something few on this forum manages. And since most of them are almost only about combat well... >.< I also liked that you don't stress past the non-combat parts, another classic mistake on this forum.

All I'd complain about is the hero symptoms concerning Merrison. Yes, he's a trained Enclave soldier, but as that scene was setup I instantly felt "oh no we've got a James Bond..." Wasn't much of that later on, so either you thought the same or the situation simply hasn't appeared yet

+1 stalker

The bottom level inside the Washington monument was a whirlwind of activity. Status updates, perimeter integrity reports, sitreps, and all other manner of busywork were being performed inside. No man or woman was left inactive, not when a fight was at hand. It might not come today, if they were lucky not even tomorrow, but no one was doubtful that time was of the very utmost premium.

The CO of the base, Knight-Captain Eugene 'Galahad' Reins, was in the thick of it. He was a 'tradition' man. He did things right, according to how he knew right to be, and how the book said it was supposed to be done. He was a strong-willed man, but his truly defining feature was so notable because of it's rarity in the wasteland: his heart was in the right place. While he wouldn't have ever nicknamed a CO, he allowed it to continue as it kept up the morale of his men.

To the majority of the men who'd served with and under him, he was 'Galahad', but a few, bitter soldiers knew him as 'Mean Eugene'. This was because he was unrelentingly harsh on any hint or impending sign of corruption or breach of conduct becoming of a soldier. He would not stand to command men that did not uphold the qualities that had served the corps since time innumerable; duty, loyalty, comraderie, honor and morality.

From the top of the monument, however, it was fairly quiet. Two men manned it, using the high vantage point as a crow's nest of sorts. Each took two directions to watch over, one North & West, the other South & East. Which is why they referred to eachother as 'Worth' and 'Soust' respectively. As Worth looked out over the northern expanse of building, he spotted a group of armored soldiers, marked with the distinctive white marking exclusive to the Lyon's Pride squad.

"Hey, I got the Lyon's Pride over here. Really hauling ass."
"Yeah, thank God for that, huh?"
"Think the rest are right behind 'em?"
"I doubt that. Might take a squad a quarter of the day to get here from the Citadel, but it'll take the main force a day and a half at best, and that's if they luck out and have no problems. Naw, I tell you, we'll probably see 'em in two days, two an'na half, maybe."
"Well, goll-ee, they'll be just in time to bury the whole god-freaking-damn lot of us."
"Reckon that's why the Pride is here already. Keep that from happ'nin'."
"Yeah, well. All I know is, when the shootin' starts, I'm blowing that elevator shaft and gettin' real cozy up here."
"You just shut your fool mouth and tell the boys downstairs that we've got guests."
"Yeah, yeah."

Worth walked over to their rickety radio set, picking up the transceiver. Pressing the red button, it would be buzzing the radio set at the command center at the bottom of the monument. And within thirty seconds, a voice crackled through the receiver.

"Go ahead, Crow's Nest."
"Yeah, We've spotted the Lyon's Pride coming in from the north. Repeat, Lyon's Pride coming in from the north."
"Acknowledged, Crow's Nest. We'll tell the doorman to see them in. Over and out."

The radio technician got up from his chair and walked quickly to ol' Galahad. A tough man, but he knew how to run this place. He was already being accosted by a number of other information carriers. He began hearing their reports coming at the CO.

"Sir? Mutants are being given weapons. Might be prepping for an attack, earlier than our predictions."
"The Citadel's reinforcements have been dispatched, sir, but we still don't have a rock solid timetable. Predictions hovering around A day and a half to two and a half days, sir."
"We've got Tracker outpost scaling the rooftops to pull back as close as they can to the monument, and then descending to ground level and hoofing it here. Sharps has not responded, but it's not actually part of our chain. We've left them a request to reinforce the monument, but if their radio isn't working or they think their position is more important, not much we can do about it, sir."
The technician finally spoke up, sensing a doubtlessly small lull in the hurricane of words. "Sir, Crow's Nest has reported that the Lyon's Pride is here, approaching from the north."

Eugene took all this information in, nodding at each informer as they spoke, his eyes darting back and forth, a clear indicator of the gears at work in his mind. Without missing a beat, he turned to each messenger as he responded to them.
"Nothing we can do about that. Keep an eye on them at all times, no time of nil surveillance. If they start getting out of the trenches, alert me immediately."
Get a line open to the convoy itself, keep a man on the horn with them. Get me real-time updates, we need a timetable to rely on."
Good. Get Tracker here, see if we can get their marksman into the Crow's Nest, good lines of fire for a support sniper. Have their spotter down here, fighting with the grunts. About Sharps, you said it yourself. It's up to them. Hope that they ride to our defense, but beyond that, not much else we can do."
Good news, always welcome. Get them in, get them whatever they need. Keep Sentinel Lyons fully briefed on up-to-the-minute intel, get her whatever SHE needs, and let them do what they do best."

Each messenger nodded as their report was addressed. After he dealt with them, each would begin walking quite briskly to enact their marching orders. Had he been a man more prone to ego, Galahad might've taken a moment to appreciate what a tight ship he was able to run, but he wasn't, and as such, moved on to whatever else needed to be done.

He had a job to do.

----------------------------------

Sarah Lyons climbed through the rubble, one hand grasping debris as the other cradled her rifle. Her squad followed close behind. Before long, they had ascended the mound of refuse, and the walled perimeter of the monument was directly ahead. Strafing around to the other side of monument, they saw the entrance immediately. Walking towards the gate, they merely saluted the door guards, who in turn nodded at each squadmember as they walked through.

Almost the minute they walked inside the command center, a logistics officer began walking up to Lyons. Seeing him approach, she quickly told addressed the rest of the Pride.

"Alright, boys and girls. Bunker down, get whatever you personally need. Be ready the minute we're needed. Dismissed."

The individual members of the squad responded with nods or quick "Yes ma'am."'s or "Acknowledged, Sentinel Lyons." before dispersing off to wherever their preparations took them.

As they walked off, the officer reached Sarah. Saluting the legendary soldier, he stood at attention. She returned the salute nonchalantly, but took care not to make it look uncaring. While the awe was tiresome to deal with constantly, nothing hurt morale like being a jerk in person. As her father had often told her, people needed a hero. When they could fight no more, they could be protected, and when they could, it inspired them to become heroes themselves. She wasn't sure about the veracity of that, but her father didn't need another issue to be burdened by.

"I am here to get you and the Lyon's Pride whatever it needs, ma'am."
"Good to hear, pal. Mind stepping outside? The fresh air and open space ought'ta make this a little easier. The boys won't need much, just remember, what we do ask for, we do need. Keep that in mind, and we'll be just fine."

--------------------------------

"This is stoo'pud! We sit like wimpy hoo-mun girls in hole! Fresh meat just across the way."
"Ripper tell us need wait."
"He not even tell us why! Fight waiting for anyone, we waste time here!"
"No argue that."

The super mutant snarled. He was sick and tired of waiting around. He wanted blood, and the hoo-muns had more than enough to provide. With a challenging roar, he leapt from the trenches. Nailboard strapped to his back, assault rifle in hand, he fired a sporadic burst to the sky.

"Anyone who not puny hoo-mun, follow me! DEATH TO DA' HOO-MUNS!"

Mutants around him turned and muttered, mulling it over. About twenty leapt up with him. With a unanimous roar, they began charging the monument.

Ripper, on the far opposite side of the trenches, saw this. His appointed lieutenant on that side was already up behind the rebellious force, waving his gun and screaming at the mutants in the trenches, no doubt threatening pain of death to anyone who followed.

"God dammit! Idiots! IDIOTS!"

Ripper grabbed a chunk of debris, hurling it as hard as he could. These blundering, idiotic, ****ing imbeciles would ruin the plans that he had to suffer through waiting for. He hated waiting. With a fiercesome snarl, he walked in front of his own side of the trenches, addressing the troops below.

"Those puny weaklings are already dead. They will die before the hoo-mun guns; the most embarrassing death of all! Any who try this again will not be allowed even that death; they will be shot in the back as they charge! DO NOT TEMPT THE WRATH OF RIPPER!"

The mutants before him were quiet. If he were not so completely enraged by this idiocy, he would be satisfied with how the grunts had been sufficiently cowed. But in this amount of anger, however, he very well might have to tear something by it's weak, fleshy limbs to calm himself.

-----------------------------------

The knight guarding the right side of the gate to the monument looked at the one on the right. He grabbed the radio.

"We have a force of ten-plus hostiles charging the position. Looks like fifteen, maybe twenty."
"Confirm, charging the monument?"
"Confirmed, monument. Sound the alarm."
"Roger. Over and out."

Klaxons blared, and all combat personnel were prepped for combat. Tracker Outpost had arrived, and their sniper was posted in the Crow's Nest. The support staff were bunkered inside the command center, their only means of defense the ballistic or laser pistol at their hip.

The charging wave of super mutants took great bounding strides and ravenous leaps as they neared the outpost. Their mouths foamed and their visions swam with red as they lost themselves to the bloodlust of battle. Those with guns fired wildly as they came within range, mostly hitting the long lines of sandbags that had been stacked when the mutants had first been sighted mobilizing. As the nailboard and sledgehammer-wielding mutants closed into range, the battle truly began.

Rising from the cover of the sandbags, the knights of the brotherhood took aim at the firearm-equipped mutants. As the few with ranged weapons fell, the heavy weapons specialist from the Pride, along with the two hefted by the gate guards, gatling lasers revved up and tore through melee super mutants with red, glowing fire. Screams and roars of pain were heard as flesh sizzled. Human voiced cried out in agony as the few mutants that survived the charge jumped over the sandbags and began swinging with reckless abandon.

One mutant swung his sledgehammer as hard as he could, the hammer impacting the nearest knight's helmet with a sickening crack! As the knight in question collapsed, blood running from underneath the helmet, the victim of the blow unmoving save for groteqsue bouts of twitching. Giving a throaty laugh at his freshest kill, he brought the hammer up high, swinging it down with terrible force. The knight in the way of this arch stepped back, but his rifle was caught and shattered by the mighty swing.

Giving a grunt of pain and shaking his now-ringing hands, the knight dropped whatever shards of broken metal still remained from the ruined rifle. Ducking as the mutant swung again, this time horizontally, he delivered an armored punch to the stomach of the mutant. Howling in as much rage as pain, he covered the helmet of the knight in flecks of spittle and foam, raising the handle of the hammer up, he shoved the wooden hilt roughly against the knight. While the wooden handle didn't do much against the metal chestplate, the force of it knocked him to the ground. Frantically grasping at the muddy ground, slick with the rain that had been pouring down in torrents since the mutants had leapt from the trenches.

As he moved away as fast as he could, a terrible, wicked grin crept across the mutant's face. He took a step toward the downed knight, then another. His third step was hindered, however, as a fellow brother leapt from behind the mutant. Landing in a crouch, he put his combat shotgun to the back of the mutant's kneecap, barrel just barely touching yellow-green flesh, he squeezed the trigger. The mutant howled in pain as his left kneecap was torn to shreds by military-grade buckshot. Pumping the shotgun, he had placed the barrel on the other kneecap before the first ejected shell had hit the ground. Blowing out the other knee with explosive force, the mutant collapsed to his knees, an excruciatingly painful, albeit involuntary, movement.

Standing up, he brought his shotgun back and hit the mutant in the back of the head, sending it's face into the muck. Righting his shotgun once more, he let loose one more blast, ensuring that the mutant would stay dead, unless it managed to sew all those tiny bits of brain and bone back together, after gathering them from the ground where it was splattered.

The rest of the mutants had been dealt with. The Brotherhood had lost much less in the way of life on paper, but with such a reduced force, every loss counted dearly. Knight-Captain Eugene 'Galahad' Reins cocked the shotgun once more, ejecting the spent shell, and picked up the gate guard's radio.

"The fight's over. Send out whoever we have in there. We have to clear away the dead."

The monument had weathered it's first assault, but no one was under the illusion that this was the worst of it. Not even close. This was the closest thing they'd get to an easy fight. And now that they had the scent of blood, it was only a matter of time before all the sharks came down upon them.

Awesome chapter! This is one of the greatest fan-fics I have read! Keep it up!

Glad to hear you're enjoying it, I've got a few tricks left up my sleeve for this final story arc.

*gets a few tranqs for Ripper*

Guy is going to have a coronary or something.

"I'M SURROUNDED BY IDIOTS!"

Oh my god. I couldn't stop reading them, and I stayed up all night reading this. Easily one of the best fanfics I have ever read, and certainly raises the bar. I look forward to the certainly exhilarating end to this story. I also sincerely hope you write more fanfic, or use your excellent talents to professional work. I have no doubt in my mind that anyone with a good eye for literature would realize what a catch a book written by you would be. Any publishing company should be ecstatic at the prospect of having you.

That being said, I'm not a very good critic. But the others on this forum have a better eye for it than I do. Such as things like grammar. Which you might be able to tell from this post I'm not very observant on grammatical errors.

Dracth, you continue to amaze. I've been away from the fan-fic section for a while, but I'm ecstatic that you have kept this going. Easily one of the best stories I've read (that includes published novels).

I am truly excited for the conclusion to this wonderful journey.

As allways, Dracth, your skill astounds me. I am at loss for words.

The blood and the pain of battle, and the truism "No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy" brilliantly written to life. This is as real as tomorrow's headlines. Kid, great job.

I'm inspired by the honesty of your writing. I hope I can reach that kind of level of insight in my own writing.

Man, thank you, guys, I appreciate it. Just wanted to make it clear that the final additions to Letters have not been forsook, it's just nearing finals and thus, I am tasked with other papers to write, none of which hold any of the enjoyment I have writing this one. :yuck:

The vertibird sent dust and wind whirling about as it gently touched down on the Enclave outpost's makeshift landing pad. The pilot, face obscured by flight mask, leaned back against the interior of his chair, as the pilot in the vertibird descending to the other landing pad keyed his radio and joked. "Another happy landing."

Inside the command center, two full squads of trained combat-ready soldiers gathered around the table in the center of the large tent. Warren had a map of the Mall drawn up by the base cartographer, and it was spread out over the table now. Looking back and forth at the men and women arrayed before him, Warren spoke up.

"Alright. I'll be frank, time is of the essence. On the other side of the Mall is our objective, the primary objective for this expedition. It is currently inhabited by Brotherhood regulars. While this is a problem we'll have to rectify, the immediate problem is that super mutants have attempted to take it already, and their numbers are growing. We don't know how or why, but they are. While the terrorists are despicable, we have to realize they're much less likely to damage the objective than a bunch of mutated monstrosities clamoring about inside a scientific facility."

Private William Terch's ears pricked up ever so slightly as the gears in his head began turning, just a little quicker than his comrades. "Sir? What exactly are we going to do when we get there?"

Warren locked eyes with Terch. Smart kid. "We're going to link up with Brotherhood forces and offer our assistance in defending the objective from mutant radicals."

A palpable aura of tension had finally solidified when the colonel confirmed just what everyone was starting to wonder. Were the elite members of Squad Foxtrot-Charlie even a little less disciplined, the murmur of uncertainty that rolled through the other squad would have been echoed by them. However, within a moment, even the slightly less razor-sharp squad zeroed in and accepted that this was what they had orders to do. As O'brien and Henderson looked at eachother and initiated the nod that every soldier knows intrinsically, Merrison said nothing, his face passionless, his eyes stone cold in thought.

Someone asked "How are we getting to the monument when the muties are all bunkered down in the center?" while bringing his finger down to the middle of the map, where little markers indicated the hive of hostiles residing.

Warren clasped his hands behind his back as he dropped into a V-stance. "Outside we've two vertibirds touching down. After the last one we're damn near not allowed to request them, but due to the importance of achieving the objective, we've been allowed these last two. However, command can not afford to lose these 'birds. We're going up to higher altitudes and doing a hot drop, right onto the monument doorstep, practically."

A communal grimace could be felt. Not only were they being inserted to rendevous with forces they weren't sure wouldn't shoot on sight, but the method of insertion was a hot drop, the most uncertain, dangerous method the Enclave had done so far. Hot drops were done by attaching ultra-strong parachutes to armored soldiers, with jet packs for extra velocity decrease, jumping from the vertibird at high altitude. This method was often inaccurate, and dangerous to the point of almost not being worth it. The principle being that the boost of the jet packs would provide enough counter thrust to not have the unbelievably-heavy infantryman tear the reinforced 'chute to threads. And some of the time, it worked. And if it did happen to work, you were lucky to be in the right section of the battlefield, much less a target area as packed as the Mall.

Warren looked to the squad leader of Beta Squad, and then to Merrison, receiving confirmatory 'This is going to be a [censored] to pull off. We'll get it done.' nods customary of all ground-level commanders. "To recap. We drop in, rendezvous and liase with Brotherhood soldiers, bunker down at the monument, repel any and all mutant hostiles, and protect the objective. Any questions?"
Pvt. Jacobs, mind as calculating as the computers he was so gifted with, had to ask. "Sir? What happens when the monument is deemed clear of any super mutant threat?"
Colonel Warren stopped for a moment, contemplating. As he exhaled, he was content with a simple answer. "We'll figure something out. Dismissed."
---------------

Hugo led his fresh-grown horde of super mutants through the rubble-strewn streets of the Mall. It had been easy traversing the wastes from Vault 87. As foreman of Ripper's spawning vats, it was his responsibility to lead the newbies all the way to da' big boss himself. He'd gotten a response a few days after he had sent correspondence of his own, and so he finished wising up the most recent batch, and took his current collection out for the journey. He let himself daydream as they walked through the burnt-out debris:

Here came Hugo, strongest mutant there ever was! So tall, so handsome! And fifty fresh soldiers for Ripper to command! What an accomplished super mutant! Up he goes, proudly striding to Ripper!

"Hugo, you am do good for me, Ripper. King of super mutants. Am proud of you! You am get first pick of plunder and feast! Will you be Ripper right-hand man? Please? Pleeease?"

Hugo, super mutant genius and the greatest who ever lived, deigns to respond. "Yes, Ripper. Me am be your right hand man. And am get bored on trip, so me work out plans for statue of me; Hugo."
"So good, Hugo! Thank you! Me, Ripper, am just think 'need statue of greatest super mutant who ever live!'. This work out perfect! Good job, Hugo! We love you, Hugo!"

Hugo was snapped out of his dream as they reached the entrance to the network of trenches that comprised super mutant territory. Striding past local mutants, many of which he'd made himself, his procession of new troops followed him right up to Ripper. Ripper was furious, but as he saw the new batch following Hugo, a wicked grin plastered itself across his face.
"Hugo get new guys for you, Rippa'!"
"Mm. Good. You may relinquish them to my lieutenants, they will distribute them. Find yourself empty quarters, we're still planning the assault."

Hugo hovered there for a moment. ...Ripper no promote me? Ripper no congratulate me?

"Yes, Rippa'."

Hugo trudged off in the direction of the troop quarters.

Dracth, if you have time, mosey over to 'Memories' and check out the Dialogue of Mork, Ork, and the rest of Andy's hilarious imagining of Super Stoopid dialogue!

Hey?

Wot?

'Ear dat?

Wot den? Busy over 'ere, y'know?

Dere, on da cumpyooter skreeny, see?

Can't 'ear dat, ya soddin' git. Da's wordz onna skreen, innit? day doesn't make noises, do day den?

Dats a figgure o' speakin' dat is.

Wot is?

Dat.

Figgures wot den?

*WHACK!!*

Uhh, so wots it say on da thinga-me-bob, an' stops hittin' me.

Den stops bein' daft. It says yer stoopid.

Huh, well waddaya knows den, fair 'nuff.