Fallout Blues

Fallout Blues
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In every turn and every step, danger always made itself known in the form of grotesquely formed monstrosities pursuing them or malformed twisted visage of humanoid faces amalgamated with dilapidated daily objects as if their creators had made sick parodies of the human physiology. Each creatures they encountered only wanted nothing but their organs on the asphalted hot road or their metallic hands painted red with their own blood. They are, indeed, violence and fury incarnated into one body.
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But the problem was, they are worse.
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Armored in powerful Battle Gears constructed out of empyrean steel, the Protectorates, prior to their carefully devised plan, had equipped themselves to the teeth of the most expensive, dangerous and highly illegal weaponry that they managed to muster from the underground Human resistances, whom who have sought their help against the oppressive rule of the Demons.
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Their plan was going well. But the Demons never wanted to be left one step behind. Perhaps their prideful nature had them act like this. The vice made them dangerous, but it also leads to their downfall many a times.
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And in events like these, one would think if the conclusion of this daring attack would result in their devastating failure, or their one-time victory of wiping out the Protectorates in whole.
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But one can never find out unless they stick until the end, does it?
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The leading Protectorate in the group, armored in grey and red, glanced from left to right as he reached the end of the road and arrived at a two-way intersection that branched from west to east. The structures around them were corrupted and devoid of life. Indeed, whatever Hell's forces touched, it always bore their mark like the souls they tortured below.
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Dark grey human arms constricted each buildings in their deathly embrace. Cracks where red light seeped from beneath were visible on the surfaces of the walls, and the structures themselves appeared as if they were caged inside rusty iron bars but in truth were hellfire-forged metals that grew out of the crust of the defiled Earth.
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In these trying times, it appeared as if the world was truly abandoned by Heaven.
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Had it not for the existence of the Protectorates, who bore the symbol of the Lord in their right shoulders in the form of gold crucifix, then truly, the mortals would have wept for the seemingly complete abandonment.
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But it's not.
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"Halt, brothers!" The leading Protectorate held a fist up as he raised his Ray Pistol at the direction of an empty store beyond the six-man team. "I sense something."
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"We have no time for this, Commander." His second in command, a Protectorate in black and red, replied as he detached a circular magnetic grenade from his utility belt. "Point me a direction and I will personally smoke the bastard out!"
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Blackshot glanced at his hot-headed brother.
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"Calm your barrels, Commissar." He reached for his left shoulder and pulled him. "That could be a civilian." He glanced at the Tribune-Commander. "Fireshock, what do you see?"
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He glanced at his superior, face obscured by his helmet's faceplate. Blackshot sensed the uneasiness of the Probationary Paladin-Confessor even if his features are obscured. The Regiment still continued their traditions despite being isolated from Heaven for years that even the deadly invasions and the eventual occupation of Hell did not stop them from exercising their ceremonies.
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Including rank promotions.
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And being one of the superiors left alive by the decades old war against Hell, he was the one supervising Fireshock's performance and the decision to promote him rest upon him and his assessment of his inferior brother.
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"I see something, a small humanoid shape up ahead." Fireshock inched forward. "You, over there!" His voice was mechanized by his suit. "Come out or we will open fire!"
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The shape moved, and it wasn't alone. The red skies above them were choked by demonic energies and the heavens was blanketed by swarms of insects, as well as the view of gigantic armored worms--vessels of Hell. If the Church Fathers had been looking at the soil and thought that Hell was located underneath the earth's mantle, surely they are looking at the wrong direction.
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Blackshot was there when they arrived from the skies--from the space beyond.
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As if criminals caught by bright spotlights, the figures came out, Human survivors draped in tattered rags and cloths. Four of them were adult--two male and two female. The other two was a child in his mother's arms while the other was a teenage woman in her nineteen years.
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Blackshot clenched his rifle tight as she attempted to remove the covering on her face.
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"Keep that on!" He yelled with his Blast Rifle raised. The MRC-18 hanging in his bandolier slammed against his back in his sudden movement. "Lust Demons are everywhere and I would hate sending one of my men for you if you got dragged elsewhere." He glanced at the adrenaline-laced Protectorate beside him, the one who almost tossed the magnetic grenade. "Stonelock, what time is it?"
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"The bombs are about to go off thirteen minutes until midnight, Commander." Stonelock replied.
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He had received multiple offers of promotions before, however, he refused every single time so when the time comes that Fireshock passed in his assessment, he would have been one rank higher than Blackshot.
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But still, the venerable Protectorate will receive his due respect because of most exploits that saved humanity more years before it reached its extinction.
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Blackshot nodded.
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"Clockpunk, Ionwave, lead the way." He ordered. "Stonelock, watch our rear." He glanced at the last Protectorate in dark purple beside him. "Viper, to me."
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"Yes, sir." Viper nodded as he approached closer.
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"Fireshock, what are you still doing?"
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"Nothing, sir." The Protectorate replied. "Do we let them tag along with us?"
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"It's a decision that you should make."
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Fireshock nodded and faced the mortals beside. "All of you, keep up with us if you want to live another day!"
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And the ragtag group moved out of the intersection heading west. The sweltering heat of the orange sun that appeared to be dying as well and the humid air breathed by the corrupted atmosphere had slowed the group down as the mortals stopped to catch their laboring breaths and took drink in their rusty canteens. Blackshot glanced at them; he could not blame them. He was a Hybrid encased in an impenetrable Battle Gear designed for combat and the user's comfort. He never felt the heat of Hell when he got lost in that god-forsaken realm. And the Earth's molested ecosystem did not bother him not even once.
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But these mortals--both the civilians as well as the Human Resistance Fighters--have always been put to the limits whenever they climb to the topside to carry out their numerous missions for mankind.
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He felt bad for them. And his brothers definitely do so.
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He approached the young woman, who kept expelling the phlegm from her throat and stopped beside her.
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"Move ahead. I'll cover your rear." Blackshot said. The rest of the group  was slightly ahead and she had lagged behind.
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She turned to her and nodded, running away and past Stonelock, who kept his RV-II HMG aimed at the direction Blackshot is facing. As soon as the girl was now ahead, he moved towards Stonelock, who covered for him.
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"What time is it?"
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"Ten minutes until midnight."
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"Shit," Blackshot whispered as he opened a private channel to Fireshock. "Brother, unless you don't want to get a sun-tan from the blastwave, I suggest increasing your pace or I will personally leave you all behind here." He bluffed.
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"Yes, sir." Fireshock replied, but he immediately let out a yell. "Ambush!"
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"Down, get down!" He heard Viper's voice ordering the mortals when a Hellfire round went to his neck.
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"Viper!" Blackshot rushed towards his wounded brother. The dust around them became thick as their assailants began to make themselves known. "Are you alright?!"
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"I'm fine, brother!" Viper yelled as he telepathically pulled the sharp 12.49mm slug from his ripped neck. His voice was hoarse, though. "I am fine!"
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"Alright, keep your open!" Blackshot yelled as he aimed at the wall of dust to their left. It slowly settled, revealing grey skinned humanoid entities with two pairs of large horns and purple glowing eyes. Their nose and mouth were obscured by what appeared to be a hosed mask, connected to its bloated stomach. The opening where the hose was connected was bleeding.
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Their left hands were attached with demonic weaponry--elongated rifles where the muzzles are designed after screaming faces. Blackshot centered his aim at the forehead of the middlemost Demon Legionnaire. The display link of his headgear identified them as the sons of the Black Star. He cared not as he squeezed the trigger. Three spheres of blue flaming plasmas went to its head and flipped his target in an instant.
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A round was fired and hit him in the left breast. Blackshot took cover as another shot rang out. Blood sprayed from his wound but the damage both from his flesh and armor instantly sealed itself up, like Viper's neck, and he took aim and returned fire.
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Four more shots went to its chest.
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"Die scum!" Viper retaliated for the attack made to him as he fired his sanctified MRC-18 at the head of the last Black Star Legionnaire. A pillar of red spray rose from its forehead before it collapsed to the ground beneath.
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"We got more tangos behind us, Commander!" Fireshock turned to him as he raised his Ray Pistol and fired at the three Falcon-Omega Squadronites above a building's rooftop behind.
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"Are you asking for my approval, Commander?" Blackshot asked. If yes, then the prospect is not yet ready to be a Paladin-Confessor.
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"No, you're one of my men, I cannot afford to lose you!"
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He decided against his thought. His lifetime of battle had trained him to be a Protektovare that he should be.
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"Very well." He was about to turn when he caught sight of the mortal innocent Humans beside them, weeping hysterically at the battle unfolding around them. Memories instantly flashed back to him, of the same image but different eras. He had been in service for 107 years now, and all of the scenes in his mind appeared as if they were just yesterday's memories.
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He turned and raised his aim with a yell. Black-eyed falcon-headed humanoids with a gaping hole in their chests. They were armed with Ragefire Rifles--the signature weapons of the Demons. Their muscular chests are bare and naked, as if in brave defiance against Heaven's weaponry.
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Even in combat they are still foolishly prideful.
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The battle-scarred Protectorate opened fire at the Demons as the deaths of each of those closest to him also appeared in his mind. The first one fell under a hail of plasma. The second one was taken down by both Blackshot and Viper while the other received a headshot from Stonelock.
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And then silence, save for the weeping of the scared mortals.
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"Get up!" Stonelock urged them and approached Blackshot. "Eight minutes to midnight."
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Blackshot turned at Fireshock. If he would still let him take control, then they will die when the Bombs Go Off.
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"Commander, I am taking control." Blackshot replied. Fireshock turned to him abruptly.
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"But the assessment--"
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"There will be no assessment if we are all radioactive ashes." Blackshot replied. "You, along with Clockpunk and Ionwave, sprint ahead toward Vault Omega-114, our destination." He glanced at the Humans. "And you run ahead of us." He glanced at Viper and Stonelock. "And the two of you, stay with me. We will make sure that no one's left behind nor anyone pursuing us."
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"Yes, sir!" They all said in unison, with the exception of Fireshock. But the Protectorates and their mortal charges followed nonetheless.
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The first three Protectorates moved ahead, followed closely by the Humans, who were struggling. Due to the limitations of the Human body, some of them are losing balance but the other Protectorates behind them made sure that they didn't die in the form of motivational shouts of their altered voices. Even if the exertion might be the death of them, it was more of a mercy than being roasted alive by the nukes that were about to detonate.
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Word has it that the other Protectorates and the Human Resistance was already sheltered in the underground Vaults. Only a few like their team were still out in the open, hoping that they reach the Vault in time before the nuclear facilities reached its melting point.
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They ran across gloomy streets. Everywhere they look was obscured by a thin veil of orange fog. The buildings around them felt sickly alive as if they were Titans looking down ready to scoop them up. The pollution-choked sky rumbled as thunder rolled by, followed by a squadron of ravens flying not far ahead.
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Loud demonic voice echoed across the dead empty streets from loud 50's stereophones. It appeared to be very distorted, as if the speaker had a terrible sore throat coupled with the device he is using was broken. But in truth, it was Demon tongue being spoken about a break-in in the nearby nuclear facility as well as the destruction of the perpetrators behind it.
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And as if answers to the instructor's command, black-fleshed hunched crawling things appeared out of the alleys and sewers accompanied by Humans with bandaged heads that were drenched in blood. Inverted crosses were carved onto their chests. Blackshot realized that they were not actually Humans.
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"Hellspawns and Legionnaires!" He yelled in a warning as he turned to the left and fired multiple times. His three hunched small targets flipped onto its back, gnawing in the air before laying motionlessly still. The Legionnaire with a bandaged head rushed at him with a knife. Blackshot grinned as he let go of his Blast Rifle--an orange thread appeared from his armor and connected itself to the falling weapon.
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He clenched both fists and launched his left with a straight punch with the intention of hitting his target in the right ribcage. When his attack connected and the knife dropped from its awkwardly bent fingers, he followed it up with an uppercut that sent the bastard flipping to the ground. Blackshot grabbed the fallen knife from the road.
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"You forgot this!" He rushed at the fallen Demon and impaled him in the spine twice.
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He turned to see Viper and Stonelock firing at the other Demons when he saw one of the male mortals staring blankly at him.
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"What are you still doing over there, follow them!" He yelled as he chased after him.
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Viper and Stonelock followed shortly after. He was watching their front while they watched his back, where the enemies are mostly appearing. Every motion from darkened corners were met with a plasma shot or two which resulted with a corpse rolling to the side in a heap. When a Demon would come close, it would meet a bloody end with engaged armblades that were already have been caked in brownish dried liquid.
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But the fighting was thickest up ahead.
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"Viper, Stonelock, assist them!" Blackshot ordered. He turned to the direction of their enemies and continued their jobs of terminating their pursuers, which he have accomplished in a short span of time. He turned to the direction of his group and caught sight of the young woman on the ground.
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"Hey, get up--?!"
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An explosion had threw him off balance. His world spun and his vision went bright. He thought that the nuclear silo facility had detonated far too early but when the equilibrium returned and everything was still in chaos, he was glad that his fears are incorrect.
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He stood up and caught sight of the girl. Amidst the noise, he could still hear the pulse of her heartbeat due to his angelic enhanced hearing. However, the road before them was now obstructed by a large debris, making it impassable.
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They are separated from the group.
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"Shit!" He glanced behind to see a large powerful being with a tough shell charge at him with gigantic axes that replaced its hands. Every step it took shook the earth beneath and it emmitted a noise that could be mistaken as a train's horn and the alarms of an ancient siren used in the 1960's Cold War. He glanced at the young woman and sprinted towards her. Killing the colossal bastard would have been fun but the fact that they are racing against time and the woman won't be able to survive on her own, he has to perform his duty as a guardian of humanity first.
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He snatched her from the ground and glanced at the sprinting giant. Its eyes glowed red, like spotlights from a watchtower. He looked for any escape routes but he only see one in the form of a dark alley to the left.
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He has no choice. He sprinted with the woman whom he lifted in a bridal carry. Darkness enveloped him as they entered the alley. He glanced behind to see a pair of red bright lights directed at him while its body blocked all of the light that entered through the entrance of the alley.
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He continued, dodging the dumpsters and trashcans along the way, of which the gargantuan smashed aside.
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It bellowed a roar, that even the air around him also shook. Blackshot saw the light at the end of the alley and exerted all of his strength to his legs and increased his speed. He felt a ghost chasing him, its hand outstretched to give him a deathly touch. A crude image of a stretched face with an opened jaw formed in his mind as it kept its speed with him despite the aid of his superhuman agility.
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He reached the exit but the monster behind him was still keeping up. He let out a loud curse when he saw that the road was also obstructed and he cannot pass it with the woman in his arms.
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He made a turn to the left once more, back at the nuclear facility when an idea came to his mind.
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He lifted the woman to a fireman's carry over his right shoulder and raised his left TacBracer. The giant behind him roared, which he paid no heed. Far ahead, long haired pale humanoid entities with outstretched jaws appeared and screamed at the sight of him. The image of the fictitious ghost he thought earlier was now a reality in front of him.
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A street stretched to the east, which he immediately took. He gazed at his TacBracer.
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"Computer, Vault Omega-113, destination!" He yelled.
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The voice-recognition filter complied and showed him the numbers he was looking for. He ran past a red skinned entity with a bulged eyes, whose chest was full of iron nails and pointed at him accusingly.
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"I KNOW YOUR SIN!" It jumped off from the roof of car and gave chase, along with the ghost and the giant behind. "I KNOW YOUR SIN, I KNOW YOUR SIN!"
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He glimpsed at the pursuer slightly and saw the emaciated red entity, arms flailing everywhere like a glitched NPC from a low-graphics old game. The speed of its movements as well as its sudden reaction was unnatural to the point of horrifying.
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He pulled his Ray Pistol from his left thigh and fired at the Demon in the chest, instantly dropping it. He continued his sprint as he replaced his Pistol and the screaming thing was crushed underneath by the giant's heavy foot.
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"Four minutes until midnight." He whispered as he glanced at the screen of the TacBracer. Ahead was the door of the Vault, appearing like a closed sewer lid in the distance.
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"Three," he muttered, the temperature in the air was rising. The horizon was visibly glowing, far brighter than the red-orange sun above. "Two," like Heaven itself had descended. "One."
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"Vault Omega-114 is just ahead!" Fireshock yelled as he hacked the head of a Demon in front of him, with his extended armblade.
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The decapitated corpse fell to the ground. He glanced behind and saw Stonelock loosing a few more bullets at their pursuers before walking to him. Clockpunk and Ionwave opened the door to the vault and ushered the Human survivors to climb below.
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"Come on, the blastwave isn't gonna wait for us!" Ionwave yelled.
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"Wait! My Shaynna's missing!" One of the female survivors yelled. "She's missing!"
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"And Commander Blackshot's missing too!" Viper added.
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"Forget about them and get inside!" Fireshock yelled. All heads turned to him before resuming their actions.
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When the Humans got below, Clockpunk and Ionwave was next, followed by Viper. Stonelock let out a few more shots before stopping beside Fireshock.
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"I cannot believe you." He shook his head in disappointment before climbing down the manhole. Fireshock fired a few more shots from his pistol before descending himself. He locked the Vault's door above him.
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As he reached the floor of the Vault, lights around them glowed in a dimmed illumination. The Vault door above them banged as the Demons attempted to get through.
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"Forty seconds 'til midnight." Stonelock said as he turned to antique machinery behind them. All of them appeared to have been stored from the era of the Second World War. MREs stored in easily opened cans can be seen on the shelf to their left, and a large tank of purified water stood beside it, enough to last for a year.
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"This place was built at the height of the Cold War." Fireshock said. "In the early days of our deployment. How did the Resistance found it?"
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"Were you living under the rock?" Stonelock asked, irritated. "When we destroyed the Agency back in the 70's and when we helped the Interpol in the 80's, we already knew of the Vaults' locations. We just happened to confirm its existence in the latter when the Human government allowed us to."
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"Hey," Ionwave nodded at the direction of the ancient computers ahead, some of which had monitors. He approached it and pressed the red rockerswitch upwards. The screen activated, showing frequencies that were connected to the other Vaults. "I wonder if we could call them."
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"I doubt that." Clockpunk replied at the silver and dark blue armored Protectorate. He approached at the microphone and tapped it with his hand, only for it to break apart. "But we could probably check if they could still hear it." He tapped at a circular button and began transmitting morse code.
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"The age of that thing was so old that I doubt it was still functioning at its finest." Viper said. "But by all means, try it."
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"Sure," Clockpunk said as he began transmitting code. He waited for a reply but all he got was white noise. "Damn,"
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"Twenty seconds to midnight." Stonelock notified.
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"I wonder if Commander Blackshot and the lady made it to safety." Ionwave whispered.
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"What makes you say that?" Clockpunk asked, the white noise and Stonelock's countdown could be heard in the background. "I know that Blackshot could survive but the girl? No, I don't think so."
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"But we never know." Ionwave said as he glanced at the dusty speakers that still issued the white noise. Clockpunk was still transmitting morse code, in hopes that the other Protectorates sheltered in the other Vaults would respond.
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"Ten," Stonelock began. "Nine," the Human mortals huddled around each other and stared at their armored youthful protectors, some of which had began disengaging their retractable headgears and revealed the faces of young adults whose eyes flashed veterancy both in life and combat. "Eight," Fireshock felt sorry for what he felt and glanced at the people beside them. He offered a prayer to the Lord.
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"Seven," Clockpunk was still focused in his task, his mind wandered to their superior. "Six," Ionwave swallowed. The future was now masked in uncertainty especially now that they are about to destroy it. "Five," aside from the white noise and now the buzzes of Clockpunk's own transmission, the loud banging of the Demons could be heard above. A child broke from her mother's grip and approached the Protectorates.
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"Four," Viper looked below to see a youngling clutching at his leg. He patted her head gently and pulled her in a hug. "Three," Stonelock quietly wept inside the confined of his helmet. Beside Fireshock, his helmet was still engaged. He thought that the wars they have fought against the Demons who seeked Heaven and humanity's destruction have come to this.
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It all appeared that everything they stood for was purged into nothingness.
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"Two," all the losses, all the sweat, all the blood and tears shed in a thousand battle zones. The images of their Human companions and Protectorate brothers who have fallen by the Demons' or wayward Humans' sword, their deaths appeared to be in vain.
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"One," Earth is now lost. The bastion of humanity was gone and along with it, one of the Regiment's very finest, Blackshot. Would the Lord just want the world to burn in flames? Stonelock thought as their surroundings shook like never before.
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The beeps and long buzzes filled the Protectorate's ears while he still kept the body of the young woman against his armored own. His gaze went at the monitor that had recently went active. The Vault they are in was far more smaller than the ones occupied by the group, but it would suffice, for the two of them.
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There was a collection of MREs in the shelf to the left, enough for two people for a year but Protectorates required no sustenance and she could have the food for herself as soon as she woke up. The tank of purified water was nearby, built inside a cage that he could just either destroy or jimmy later. The Vault door above them was already locked, leaving their surroundings very dark but the illumination of the screen cut the shadows at bay.
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Blackshot stood and glanced at her face, which appeared to be simply sleeping. He approached the cot beside and gently laid her. He unmasked himself with a gesture that was read by his Praetorian Battle Gear. He glanced at the shelf and caught sight of a power drink that were preserved through artificial chemicals. It contained a warning sign and for her to consume it might be a bad idea.
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But a Protectorate like him could just shrug the poison away.
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He grabbed it and retreated at the opposite wall, his back pressed against it. He slowly sat as he uncapped the bottle and took a long swig. The taste was still there and the sweetness as well as the sparkle made his fatigue go away for few minutes. His vision spun, though, it was as if the drink had fermented itself.
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He grinned. He had never had such a drink before. He wondered what the future now holds now that the world is gone. The only noise that accompanied the two of them was the sound from the old computer. His glowing brown eyes were fixed to the young woman. He wondered what will now happen to her if the stock ran out.
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He drank the contents of his bottle, crumpled it, and threw it away. Blackshot genuflected and pressed his palms together. He caught sight of the countdown on his TacBracer. "Ten seconds until midnight."
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He shut his eyes and prayed, shortly before the world around him shook as if ten earthquakes made itself known.
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/"God save us everyone,
Will we burn inside the fires of a thousand suns,
For the sins of our hand,
The sins of our tongue,
The sins of our father,
The sins of our young."
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- The Catalyst, Linkin Park/
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[END]
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(Short Tale)