So far, it's just the prelude. But I'll be posting Chapter I: Rebirth, in a little while. I wrote this myself, and hope you guys enjoy it. By the way, if you were ever a part of Dr. Strangelove's roleplay, Battle for Alaska, there will be quite a few refrences, and you'll certainly enjoy this fanfic, as its a spiritual successor to that RP. Enjoiy.


Ruined Future by Zachary Calloway


Prelude

It didn’t take a scientist to figure out that Klamath was in trouble. Crops were dying, Brahmin were sick, and children were starving. Even the once proud Gecko trappers made little money these days. However, it was quite obvious that these days, many towns didn’t survive. Because, after all, this land was caught in a time of post-apocalyptic terror, an Era of unprecedented depression, a standstill, the likes of which we had never been seen before.

The end of the world occurred pretty much as we had predicted. Too many humans, not enough space or resources to go around, and so… we turned to war. The details are trivial and pointless, the reasons, as usual, purely human. The earth was nearly wiped clean of life. A great cleansing, an atomic spark struck by human hands, quickly raged out of control. Spears of nuclear fire rained from the skies. Continents were swallowed in flames, and fell beneath the boiling oceans. Humanity was almost extinguished, their spirits becoming a part of the background radiation that blanketed the earth, for centuries to come.

But now, centuries after the war, centuries after mankind’s destruction by its own hand, humans clung to the thresholds of life, dragging their feet across the ashen land in search of peace. Peace that would never come. The town of Klamath lay in what was once southern Oregon; it was the remains of Klamath Falls. Its population went to zero the day the earth died, but soon rose back up steadily, as humans crawled out of their holes and laid eyes upon the destruction.

They found a fairly fertile land (compared to the rest of America, at least) where strange, bipedal Geckos roamed, their only food source, radiated though it may be. But years passed, and even after the end of the sadistic Enclave by the hands of The Chosen One, Klamath began to fall apart. But the Enclave, a once powerful and highly technological group of super soldiers, was not so dead. No, in fact, it thrived. Those who survived the destruction of their Communications Base, Navarro, and the bombing of their main headquarters, began to scavenge for parts. The Enclave returned, though not in full force. Small recon groups scouted the land, and learned that a city was being created using a G.E.C.K., or Garden of Eden Creation Kit. That would be second on their list. First up, would be Klamath, the closest settlement to their base of New Navarro.

One day, a weary and starving citizen of Klamath, saw a group of Enclave soldiers approaching. They wore nuclear powered suits of armor, known as Power Armor, and they wielded salvaged Plasma and Gaussian weapons. Their intimidating presence sent the man running for help, but a 2mm EC round popped open his shoulder, and dropped him for good. As they passed, a man wearing an extremely large suit of armor, with the American flag emblazoned on his briast, blasted apart the dying man’s head with a Plasma pistol. Just for good measure. They continued on, not stopping to watch as the man’s skull melted away, and decomposed beneath the burned soil. Klamath Falls. How ironic. It seemed it would fall tonight.

I like it! You've already created the whole story right?

No, but I'll be releasing a chapter every day or so.

Chapter I: Rebirth

He was cold. Terribly, unmistakably, cold. He stood upright, yet not conscious, his ears deaf to the murmurs of feigned excitement around him. They spoke in sharp, raspy voices, poorly filtered through their metal helmets. Even if this man, Roland Darkwater, had fully functioning ears, or a brain for that matter, a three inch thick layer of glass separated him and the room full of armored men. So, without a doubt, he wouldn’t be able to hear them anyway. There were many reasons why Roland could not see, hear, or provoke thought. But, however, one stood out clearly to all who laid eyes upon him. He was frozen stiff, like a strip of meat in the back of a butcher’s store.

Well, that’s what Roland would think of, anyway. Butchers didn’t really exist anymore. There was a simple explanation for both that, and Roland’s current predicament. It was over two hundred years after nuclear fallout had plagued ninety-five percent of earth. So, naturally, Roland would be a bit surprised to wake up to reality once more, after having been sealed off from it for more than two centuries, despite having been trained well by his military superiors.

Yes, Roland Darkwater was a man of the U.S. army, or rather, used to be. Now he was a high-priority prisoner of the Enclave, of these men. Men who wore massive suits of bulging metal armor, powered with nuclear energy to enhance their physical strength and resist most forms of low-class weaponry. These men watched as the cryogenic cell began to a thaw, a process which could take days. Fortunately, at least for the anxious Enclave, they had turned up the heating device, quickening the process down to a few hours. But this wasn’t exactly good for Roland. You see, the Enclave were a highly technological organization, but they had little knowledge of pre-war instruments, only determining if they could salvage them to make new machines of their own. So, they cared little when the cryogenic chamber began not only to thaw the ice, but to burn Roland’s skin, however slight.

Eventually, the soldiers headed back off to their posts. Every soldier in the complex had a place to be, and if the Quartermaster had found them here, it wouldn’t have been a happy greeting.

Finally, when the display screen on the cryogenic chamber read ‘206y 2m 21d 2h 4m’, the door swung open, and without anybody to catch him, Roland slipped out onto the tiled floor.

* * *

“Brigadier General Kovacs, I have important news from the scout team, sir!”
Kovacs turned from the hi-tech computer screen, and glared down on the small frame of a young Enclave messenger.
“What is it, grunt?”
“Hawk unit has encountered resistance in the northern extremities of Klamath, sir! They have advanced weaponry, Gauss rifles, plasma grenades, pulse pistols, the works!”
If the messenger could see the scowl beyond the metal helmet, he would cower in fear.
“What?” came the obviously frustrated response.
The messenger gulped heavily, and continued with the report.
“Sir, Hawk unit is having difficulty dealing with them—“
“You mean to tell me, grunt,” began Kovacs in a violent shout, “That one of my most well-trained units is being beat down like a bunch of yellowbellied, cockeyed, [censored]-for-brains commies? Just how dumb do you think I am, grunt? What the [censored] are you trying to say?”

The messenger dipped his head low and continued.
“We have their report on a holodisk, sir,” he said, almost in a whisper.
“Well what the hell are you waitin’ for, dip [censored], another nuclear war?”
“Yessir!”

The poor little man ran off towards the holodisk projector, and fumbled the little cartridge nervously in his hands before slipping it into the machine. A small image of Sergeant Roark, leader of Hawk unit, appeared on screen. Two armor-clad men with plasma rifles stood nervously beside him.

“Brigadier General, sir!” shouted the man, saluting the floating disk in front of him. “We have begun the assault on Northern Klamath, and have been using the canyons and our Gauss marksmen to stealthily take out the villagers. But a small group of them have hold up in a warehouse. I dunno how but they’ve got themselves armed with stuff we’ve got, y’know, Gauss Rifles, Plasma and Laser weapons, grenades, everything it seems! We can’t take ‘em out without risking several of our men! Over and out,” he finished, and with that, the blue image disappeared.

“Grunt,” whispered the General, almost inaudible.
“Y-yes?” was his frightened reply.
“Order Roark to continue the assault, regardless of the situation. If we have to spare men to make headway into this battle, we will goddamnit!”
“Uh, yes sir!”

* * *

Roland searched the room for any clues as to where he was. His memory soon came flooding back to him. War. Imminent danger. Being frozen alive. Though it was not all fully clear immediately, he had the basic understanding of why he had just woke up beside an opened cryogenic chamber. But where were the Military scientists? Where was Sergeant Morgan or Sergeant Gunny? Commander Howard or Commander Wilson? It was all so confusing… the last thing Roland truly remembered and understood, was arriving at the Military camp in Anchorage, Alaska. But why had he been frozen?

It took only one glance at the display case on the cryogenic chamber to truly grasp his situation. Two-hundred and six years. That was how long he had been frozen. What happened to the last-ditch battle with the Reds in Alaska? The imminent nuclear war? Had it all been left behind? What about his family? Roland chuckled at that thought. Roland had no family. All he had left was his step father, a drug addict, who was about two-hundred years in the past. Of course, there was his grandfather, a kind, gentle, and caring old man. But he was dead even when Roland was alive.

It all seemed so distant… life… his life… it was all gone. At least he had memories of his grandfather. Roland instinctively felt for the metal coin that usually hung from his neck. It wasn’t there. My belongings, he thought, where are they? Another quick search of the room assured him that his things were long gone.
This is making no sense… Dr. Zimmerman was supposed to freeze me for only a few years… he told me himself… what happened? Seeing as they’re long dead, I may never know.
Before Roland could sit down and continue his silent pondering, the butt of a machinegun was slammed into the back of his head, and he slipped into the black realm of unconsciousness.

* * *

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and baky!”
Roland slowly opened his eyes, but a glaring light made him shut them for several seconds.
“Corporal Roland L. Darkwater, U.S. Military. You were in service during the Anchorage Reclamation, correct?” asked General Kovacs. Roland remained silent, unmoving.
“Speak up, grunt!”
Roland opened one of his eyes, just a little bit. A heavy framed man stood before him, his body bent down to look at Roland. A cigarette burned in his mouth.
“First division, T-51b Power Armor unit, under command of Commander Howard and Commander Wilson… a soldier operating in the Anchorage Reclamation, yes,” replied Roland, shutting his eye once he had finished. General Kovacs displayed a crooked grin, two golden teeth shining as he did.
“Fan-[censored]-tastic,” he said, rising up from his bent position. “You see, we have a problem here, Darkwater,” he continued, walking around the small, square room. The General squinted at the bright fluorescent light shining above him.
“Your unit succeeded in Operation Anchorage, we know that much. And we have records of you and several other’s cryogenic freezing. But Dr. Zimmerman failed to freeze himself, and thus we have no other indication as to why you, or Corporal Wallus, are here. We simply know he froze you for two-hundred and six years.”

General Kovacs bent down low in front of Roland again. The weary soldier opened his eyes again, aware of the fowl stench wafting from Kovacs’ mouth.
“That’s a long time, soldier,” he said, taking a drag from his cig and puffing the smoke in Roland’s face.

“It was only supposed to be a few years,” said Roland. “I can’t remember why he froze me, but it wasn’t supposed to be this long.”
Kovacs smiled grimly.
“Don’t play dumb with me, [censored], I know the games people play. I’ve interrogated before. You either tell me the truth, or I’ll hang you from the rafters and press a burning-hot barrel to your ass and make you scream for you long-dead mother.”
Roland opened his eyes fully this time. He scanned the room for any sign of weakness in the white walls, or in General Kovacs’ himself.
“What happened?” was Roland’s simple question.

Kovacs narrowed his furry eyebrows and took another drag of his cigarette.
“War,” he said finally. “Total nuclear fallout.”
Roland shook his head grimly. He figured as much.
“I thought Anchorage was successful.”
“It was. We don’t have much information about what happened, but I can tell you this, soldier: whatever you left behind in your world, it’s long gone. Welcome to the New Age, soldier, an age where the Enclave will rebuild society. And you’ll be alive to see it.”
Kovacs smiled, his old face contorting into rugged, yet hysterical laughter. And then he left, leaving Roland alone in the square, unfurnished room. Alone, where he could truly begin to grasp the dark implications of his return.

WOW! Never thought that I would see this guy again. So we know that Roland and Wallus are around. But you said "Of you and SEVERAL OTHERS freezing" Do I smell a bit of a heroic Alpha Platoon comeback Here???? Anyway, my curiosity might kill me so keep this up or I might die. 10/10!

I was so hoping you'd show up NYA
I'm betting the old vets from Battle for Alaska won't mind me doing this There'll be a few surprises here

Hehe, I'm sure you were. I doubt that anyone would mind seeing this up here, and if they do I will slap them. Surprises are good, and this story looks like it will be too. I'm excited to see how you will fit some other people into this and what their places are in the puzzle that is the American Wastes. Keep this going! :goodjob:

Glad I got a buddy to support
Chapter 2 is midway done, I'm expecting it to be released sometime tonight.

Here it is!


Chapter II: Prison Break

While several men interrogated Darkwater, Brigadier General Kovacs headed off to meet the other recently returned soldier. Grendel Wallus. Kovacs entered a room reminiscent of Darkwater's, where Wallus sat constrained in a metal chair.
"Corporal Wallus," said the General, stomping the remains of his cigarette and drawing a new one.
"You were a late arrival to the Anchorage Reclamation. Later than Darkwater and Alpha Platoon, anyhow. Am I correct?"
Grendel just stared blankly at the General, his thin eyebrows angled downward in outright disgust. Grendel spat in his general direction. Kovacs replied with a wicked grin.

"We can play it like that, Wallus? if you want," he began, stopping to take a long drag of his cigarette. Kovacs released the smoke, a billowing grey cloud, into Grendel's face. Then Kovacs pushed the burning hot end of the cigarette into Grendel's eye. The Corporal shouted in agony as it seared through the socket. The General just cackled as he pushed the smoking cigarette deeper into his eye.

Finally, he removed it, and Wallus slumped over, unable to cover his ruined left eye.
"Filthy bastard," he spat. Then he shook the chair furiously, trying to break free of the chains. Again, the General chuckled in response.
"Good luck with that," he said, and tossed the crumpled cigarette to the floor. Kovacs then drew a semi-automatic USP .45 handgun from his waist, and pistol-whipped the side of the Corporal's head with incredible force. He toppled over onto the floor, the chair with him. But he didn't groan or shout. Grendel was tough, and he had been tortured and interrogated before.

Kovacs bent down low, and forcefully pushed the barrel of the gun to his head.
"Now you tell me just what the hell you two were doing frozen stiff in that military base, or I may have to call in the cleaning crew after I'm finished with you." Grendel mustered up his courage, and again spat at the man.
"I ain't tellin' you [censored], so [censored] off," he grumbled, swerving his chair onto its back to avoid the coming pistol-whip.
"Why you little bastard!"

Kovacs stood up, and planted the sole of his combat boot roughly onto Grendel's jaw. Again and again he kicked, ruthlessly stomping the man's face. Then when Wallus tried to rise, Kovacs swerved a fist into his gut, blasting the air from him. Grendel groaned and the chair flipped over, Grendel now on his chest, the chair above him. Kovacs lifted the chair up with his free hand, and, while holding on to Grendel, began bombarding his face with punches. Kovacs finally tossed the chair, Grendel still chained to it, at the wall. Grendel collapsed, and unbeknownst to the general, his chains came loose.

Meanwhile, the General had placed a pair of brass knuckles on each fist, and was slowly approaching the nearly unconscious form of Wallus. Wallus sat up, and spat blood on the bleached white floors. After wiping his face, Grendel noticed his chains were free, and so he waited as best he could for the right moment. Finally, when Kovacs was only feet away, Grendel swung free from the chair, and sent it flying at the General. It slammed into his gut, knocking him flat on his back.

Wallus took his chance, and grabbed the knife from Kovacs' hip. He would have gotten the gun, but it had been thrown across the room. Wallus backed up, concealing the knife, as the General stood.
"You tricky son of a [censored]," said Kovacs, reaching for his knife strap. But it wasn't there. Grendel took his chance, and rushed forward. With one quick swipe, he rendered the man's right hand useless, by slashing open the knucklebones, and with another, he had cut a deep gash across his left eye.
Kovacs roared in pain, and covered his bloody eye with his uninjured hand.
"Payback's a [censored], eh?" said Grendel, who then whirled forward with a kick to the General's chest. The man hit the wall, and slumped down onto the floor, where he groaned in pain.
"[censored]," said Wallus, making for the door. The soldiers, who were standing on guard outside (and were on smoke break) didn't even notice Grendel as he slipped into a shadowy corridor and disappeared from sight.

* * *

"That's it alright," said the man, looking through his binoculars.
"Are you sure, Jack?"
"Positive. I mean, it sure looks like a military base, doesn't it?"
"Alright. Sylvia, Jonathan, head out, we need to?"
"Wait, wait, wait," said Jack suddenly, lowering the binoculars.
"We can't just rush in the place, we have to do some recon, we gotta know what's in there!"
The old man sighed.
"Jack, we know what's in there. The Enclave. Henry saw men in armor with big guns, it can only be them!"
"Morris, listen to me," said Jack Harding, grabbing the weary old man's shoulder.
"The Enclave is gone. The Vault Dweller's descendant saw to that."
"Who else could it be though?" asked Jonathan. "Who else has Power Armor?"
"Someone from Arroyo City, maybe?" suggested Sylvia, a young girl with a scoped .44 revolver in hand.
"She's right," said Jack. "Arroyo has a lot of guards in Power Armor. It could have been them."
Morris just shook his head and sighed again.
"I know it's them, Jack. I know it. My father lost his family and village to those cruel bastards, and I've heard enough stories about their appearance to know it's them. I know, Jack."

Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
"Alright. So it's the Enclave. We still can't rush in there. They'll annihilate us!"
"So what do we do?" asked Jonathan. "We can't let them take Klamath! Besides, they have too many of our people in there!"
Suddenly everyone was looking at Sylvia. She looked around at everyone, especially Morris, who had a hopeful gleam in his blue eyes.
"No," she said, stepping back. "No, no, no, no. No!"
"You have to Silv, we don't have any other options! You're the sneakiest person in Klamath!" said Jack, who had raised Sylvia since she was seven. "I remember when I found all that stolen stuff in your room. Sure, it was wrong, but your talents are too useful at this critical moment!"
"He's right, Sylvia," said Morris, clasping the girl's shoulder.

She sighed.
"What do I do?"
"Get in there, and find our people. Get 'em out, and we'll come back and take them out," explained Jack, dropping his Gauss rifle as he approached the girl. He hugged her, silently sobbing as he did.
"Good luck, Silv," he said patting her on the back.
"Now go!" he whispered after her, as she hopped over the threshold and took off towards multilayered complex. Jack looked to Morris for support. Even his determined blue eyes didn't assure him that his little girl would be safe.

* * *

Roland sat, totally restrained, several new bruises marring his stoic features. Roland was a young man, with short, cropped brown hair, thin eyebrows, and a well defined face. He had olive green eyes and a short stubble on his chin. Roland sighed and watched as soldiers passed by his door. Or was it a window? All he could see other than bleach-white walls was a small, glass box in the wall. So? others had been frozen too. A Grendel Wallus, being one of them. Roland didn't know this man, but he was likely a unit placed in Alpha Platoon after Roland was hauled off. They probably died thinking Roland was dead. Well, except Morgan, Gunny, and the two Commanders. They were the only ones who knew that Roland hadn't died that day.

Poor Weasel probably died thinking his drugged up Stimpack ended Roland. For that was how Roland was "Killed", or rather, surgically revived and put in a cryogenic healing machine. He was in a near-death situation, where his fellow allies were off fighting the Chinese. His good friend, Private Stevens, was in danger. Roland injected himself with one of Weasel's Stimpacks, figuring it would save him. Instead, the small doses of varying drugs within it made him a killing machine.

Before "dying", Roland killed several Reds, and almost saved his friends. They probably had held a funeral for him. Well, maybe Morgan told them about the operation, about his freezing. Or Gunny. That would be more likely. Or maybe? maybe some of Alpha Platoon had been frozen with him. Roland chuckled at the thought, and lay back in the chair. Goddamned Enclave? whoever the [censored] that was.

* * *

Grendel Wallus snuck behind a guard, and quickly pressed a complex set of codes on a keypad. It was a password he had found in the General's archive room. Despite his large frame, Wallus was quite the stealthy one. The guard heard the beeping, and spun around, but by then Grendel had already pumped two bursts into him with a fully automatic Uzi he had found in the General's dresser. Luckily it had a sound suppressor with it.

Grendel finished the code, and a loud ringing echoed across the Prison Block. Soon, every electronic lock in that section of the base was deactivated, even the Guard Barracks. It didn't take long for the prisoners to notice, and break out, or for the guards to spring into action. Grendel snuck past the conflict, gunshots and explosions ringing out behind him. But before Grendel could make it for the Entrance Block, a young woman walked out from a doorway. She had a loaded .44 magnum aimed at his chest.

Cliffhanger

Not really, unless she shot him

Looks pretty good. I don't think I was posting in the Fallout section when Battle for Alaska was around. Or maybe I just didn't notice it. I tend to ignore most Fallout rps. Regardless though, I'm looking forward to reading more.

WHERE ARE YOUUUUUUUUUUU??????????? Come back and finish this!!!

O_O I was at my Grandma's house... jeez, sorry... almost done with chapter 3...

Finish Chapter 3!! NAOOZ!

Wow, I didn't realize anybody cared COOL! I'm finishing it right now

Lotta action in this one. Main bad guy, meet readers, readers, meet big bad guy.



Chapter III: MacAfee the Vindicator


Roland Darkwater listened intently as bursts of machinegun fire and explosions boomed outside his cell. A few strange echoing noises that sounded like an electronic door being closed (Gauss gunfire) reverberated down the hallway, and the machinegun fire ended. An extremely loud explosion shook the Prison Block, and nearly threw Roland (and his chair) over.
"What the hell is going on out there?"
"Echo 4-1, I repeat, Echo 4-1, we need assistance in the Prison Block, ASAP!" came a gruff voice from just outside his door. Suddenly his door, an unnoticeable white square the same shade as his wall, caved into the room. A man in combat armor lay atop the splintered wood, groaning in pain and clutching his bloody stomach.
On the other side of the door was a scantily-clothed man with broken shackles around his wrists and a smoking 12 gauge shotgun in hand. Before the escapee could help Roland, or flee for his own life, there was a dull thud, and a 2mm EC Gauss projectile ricocheted twenty times in his shattered skull before he hit the ground. The killer, a man in army fatigues, wielding a PPK12 Gauss Pistol, stepped over the limp body below him, and aimed the gun at Roland.
"Major MacAfee has ordered us to eliminate all prisoners on sight," he said, pressing a green button on the side of the magnetically-powered pistol. It made a beeping noise, and then clicked ominously.
Roland immediately leapt forward, landing in a roll. As he spun over, the chair lifted above his body, and took the full blast of the Gauss Pistol. The chair shattered, and the magnetic force of the blow destroyed his shackles.
"Damn it," remarked the soldier, backing up against the wall. He aimed again, but by then Roland was upon him. The hardened warrior already had his hands about the man's neck. With a sickening crack, he was dead. Roland took off for the exit, the corpse sliding over onto the dead escapee.

* * *

"Whoa girl, you don't wanna do?"
"Shut up!" shouted Sylvia, cocking back the hammer on the .44. "Where are my people?!"
"I don't know anything about your people, girlie," said Grendel cautiously, slowly but stealthily beginning to raise the Uzi.
"Drop the gun!" said the girl hastily, rattling the weapon as she did. "Now!"
Grendel displayed a rugged grin.
"Hey," he said, outstretching his arms (and the gun) and smiling. "I'm a prisoner here too. Was, anyway. So why dontcha just lemme past, and you can go find your people. That sound okay?"
Sylvia held back the words in her throat, and shook noticeably. She didn't intend to hurt the man anyway, but maybe he was just a prisoner?
"Behind you!" she screamed suddenly. Grendel spun around, firing off a burst of rounds from the Uzi as he did. But it was of no use, as his intended target wore a massive suit of power armor, the briast emblazoned with the American Flag.
Grendel's jaw dropped as he gazed at the towering figure, easily nine feet tall. He wore no helmet, and had a shaven head and rough beard. One eye was closed due to a scar that stretched from his brow to his chin.
"Supreme Power Armor Mk II," said the man in a deep voice, finishing with a throaty laugh. Then he raised his own weapon, a Vindicator Minigun that had recently been attached to the gauntlet of the armor. Grendel's eyes widened and his stomach dropped as the massive Gatling gun began to rotate.
Intuitive as always, the ex-soldier leapt into a room beside him. Meanwhile, the Minigun had begun to fire, slowly ripping apart the walls in the hallway, and everything between them. Sylvia had ducked under an office desk next to the exit, and sat there shaking as the loud gun continued firing.
Grendel, having dealt with weapons of such power before, sat beyond a large stainless-steel cabinet, so even the bullets that tore through the wall only made it halfway to him. Once he got over the intimidating sound of heavy gunfire, he began to examine his surroundings. It was a large containment lab of some kind. Apparently it had been opened when Grendel shut down the electronic locks. Enormous tanks lined the walls, and Grendel was sure he saw something stirring inside of them. Just what the in the hell were they experimenting with here? Grendel was abruptly brought back to his senses when a bullet zipped through the cabinet and clipped his shoulder.

* * *

Roland slipped into a room down the hall from the Prison Block, where a small gunfight was still raging on, and looked around. It seemed to be a storage room. Roland searched the cabinets, lockers, crates, everything. Soon he found what he was looking for. Inside a large locker on the floor were his belongings. A Colt M1911 .45ACP handgun, four clips of ammunition, a combat knife, a suit of army fatigues (still bearing his name) and most importantly, a shiny (even after all these years) golden coin. Roland changed into his old snow-camouflaged fatigues, holstered his pistol, and slung the coin around his neck using a silver chain he found in the box as well. After slipping the combat knife into a strap on his hip, Roland took off into the hall, heading for the Entrance Block. Strangely enough, he didn't find any gunfights or Enclave soldiers along the way. In fact, he didn't see anybody at all. Soon he found the reason for this. As Darkwater ran and ran, he began to hear an ominous rattling noise, almost like a typewriter (Did they still have those anymore?)
He came to a corner and nearly gasped in amazement. Twenty or thirty Enclave soldiers crowded the hall in a semi-circle, a massive man in their midst. He had a Gatling gun of some kind strapped to his arm. The man was blasting holes through the wall in front of him. Roland ducked back behind the wall.
This? is not good. How am I supposed to get past these guys?
Roland peeked around the corner. A glowing red sign displayed the words 'Entrance Block' on the far end of the hallway. Roland knew it was the only way out. He had to get past them, somehow, someway.

* * *

Sylvia cautiously peeked around the edge of the desk, whimpering as she saw a large crowd of armored men surrounding the man with the Minigun. With a deep intake of breath, she swung open the chamber on her .44. Full. She already knew. She only had one shot to get this right. Sylvia sighed, and finally stood, drawing the attention of several soldiers. Then she aimed at the man with the Minigun? and fired. A .44 round clanked against the metal, three-foot shoulder of the man, and ricocheted around the group of armored men. For a moment, they checked the dent in their armor, worrying if they had been injured. Then they laughed. That was before they opened fire.

* * *

Grendel heard the multiple bursts of gunfire, and knew they were shooting at the girl. She was innocent? Grendel couldn't let her die? not like this. Pushing aside the pain in his shoulder, he stood up, knocking over the metal cabinet (that was littered with bullet holes). He strode out of the room and into the wide hallway, and began firing erratic bursts from his Uzi at the crowd. Out of pure luck, some were hit in slits in the armor; others got nailed in the head, knocking them over. They were the lucky ones. The unarmored men were littered with machinegun fire, and their blood soon splattered the walls; and anyone close by. The nine-foot man, Major MacAfee, just stood there and laughed as his men died. They were useless to him. The Major lifted up his helmet with his free hand, and slid it over his vulnerable head. Then he stepped forward, his massive Vindicator Minigun leading the way.

* * *

Roland heard lower-caliber gunfire, and knew it wasn't an Enclave soldier. Peeking around again, he saw countless men drop to the floor, dead or seriously injured. The rest fled. Unfortunately, it was in Roland's direction. As they passed, the skilled marksman dotted their backs with bullet holes from his 1911 handgun. This time, Darkwater stepped out into the hallway without fear. Not a single Enclave soldier except for that one, enormous man remained. But that was more than enough to make Roland stop in his tracks.

i can imagine this in a movie. btw did you get echo 4-1 from halo??

O_o Possibly? It just came to me

good work looking forward to Rebirth

Get with the times, my friend. That was chapter 1, chapter 4 is on its way.

haha jokin around read the beginnig then wrote the comment just read the rest though amazing

ROLAND! ROLAND! ROLAND! I'm just loving this man!