Fallout 4: AR

74. ...Contact with the Enemy

We had not planned for an enemy encased in power armor. Neither of us even suspected that the slavers had a set. While not unheard of, it was rare for raiders to possess power armor, and usually reserved only for their leaders.

In the walled-off, terrified corner of my mind, I blessed Tinker Tom for the gift of my ballistic-lined jacket, which allowed me to survive the impact of multiple shots, bruising notwithstanding. Invoking V.A.T.S. one more time, I took aim at the left leg of the armor, firing rapidly. While the rest of the suit appeared intact, the leg was little more than a frame, just like Proctor Ingram's armor aboard the Prydwen. Gotta take him out! I'mgonnadieI'mgonnadie...

Crackcrack!

Crackcrack! CrackcrackCrackcrack!

Screaming in panic, I fired as fast as I could squeeze the trigger, adrenaline taking over when the Pip-Boy's assistance faded. The slaver moved like a steel juggernaut, inexorably closing the distance towards me. I was shaking so much that my shots were probably missing as often as hitting, but I didn't dare stop. Vaguely, I was aware of additional fire support. MacCready! Finally, the armor started showing signs of damage. The slaver slowed as a lucky shot took out his knee, and I whooped in triumph, even while the compassionate side of my soul cringed in sympathetic horror. I backed up step by careful step, still firing.

The armor blossomed with bloody pinpoints, evidence of growing destruction inside the shell, but I only stopped when the slaver himself was dead. The armor creaked to a halt, toppling over with a loud metallic crunch as my opponent finally lost the battle. At the same time, I spied a moving figure off to the side of the motel holding an enormous minigun, blazing white hair a beacon to my seeking eyes.

We hadn't counted on heavy weaponry, either. Don't hesitate. Dredging up the very last of my focus, I invoked V.A.T.S. and aimed for the figure's head, its white hair a beckoning target. Shoot to kill.

My shot went wide as a previously unseen figure tackled me at full speed. He was taller than I was, heavier and stronger, and we wrestled for control of my rifle after landing in the dried grass. MacCready and I had practiced hand-to-hand combat, but I was still woefully unskilled. V.A.T.S. was depleted until I could get my focus back, and I writhed ineffectively against the pinning weight of my attacker. I even tried to knee his crotch, taking the chance that if I were fast enough, I could disable him before he wrested my rifle away.

"Hey now, not before we've even gone on a date!" In a lightning-quick move, my assailant batted my knee away and wrenched my arms up and over my head, shoving the rifle off to one side. Mirrored shades knocked askew on his bald head, I stared into light blue eyes sparkling with humor.

"Deacon?!" I froze in shocked recognition.

"And Glory, if your partner hasn't managed to snipe her yet." Deacon slowly released my hands. "You may want to thank her for taking out that tin can for you."

"Oh no! MacCready won't know its her!" I scrambled up and darted into view of the ridge, frantically waving the "cease fire" signal. Deacon didn't take any chances and kept to the shadow of the sign, calling quietly-

"Glory, you still with us?"

I breathed a sigh of relief when Glory's aggrieved voice answered. "Yeah, still mostly in one piece. Your sniper is a damn good shot. I had to dive for cover." She emerged into the light, still holding the impressive minigun. MacCready must have seen my signal as there were no more shots from the ridge.

"Well," I groaned, gingerly shaking out my bruised limbs, "So much for the stealthy approach. While we wait for MacCready to come down, care to tell me what you're doing here?" Glancing at the motel, I noticed the entrance had been blocked up. Damn it, two left inside.