New Vegas: Sheason's Story - Chapter 125: The High Road

“There you are…” Ulysses’ voice boomed out of ED-E’s speaker. “You went quiet for a time. Then that signal came in strong from your machine. Like a heartbeat.” Ulysses snorted. “You and your machine… you survived. There’s a lesson here, in the Divide.”

“Yeah…” I sighed, continuing to move away from the collapsed tunnel exit and reloading my G36 as I walked. “I survived. What, are you surprised or something?” ED-E followed me as I walked. Ulysses didn’t answer my question, but kept talking like I hadn’t said anything.

“Made your way through Old World towns… and the tunnels that join them. Now? The High Road. For all you’ve seen behind you, there’s worse along this stretch. Deathclaws hunt the Marked Men… and what burrows below.”

“Those creatures in the underpass,” I stated, casting another glance over my shoulder. I was far enough away from the exit now that I couldn’t see any details in the darkness below. But I swear that I could still hear some faint clicking and growling echoing from deep within the underground, made by monsters just waiting for the sun to set.

“Tunnelers,” Ulysses confirmed. “Predators that make their own roads beneath the ground here. Divide broke their sky. Showed them the world above – and the scent of new prey,” He paused, but I kept walking; the mind-controlled ED-E followed close behind. “Be a slower death for the Mojave than bombs and fire… but they’ll come for its people, from where they least expect. Below.”

I came to a dead stop.

“Wait,” I said, slowly turning to face ED-E. “Slower death for… You mean…” I gulped, a horrifying image filling my brain. “The tunnelers are spreading out from the Divide, aren’t they?” Ulysses grunted out an affirmative ‘Hurm.’

“In the Divide, need to watch the sky and ground… Mojave’ll be easy prey for them. They’ll start emerging outside The Divide in time. Might be years. Probably less. They breed fast. Hunt in groups. More than enough to bring down the strongest. Once they draw blood…” Ulysses grumbled again; a sort of pseudo-sigh.

“But…” I was at a loss for words. “Is there any way to… I mean, if they’re really spreading, then…” I thought about Goodsprings and Primm, already pretty close to The Divide anyway. The people there could barely hold off attacks from run-of-the-mill idiot raiders! If the tunnelers came for them, everyone there would be ripped to shreds in a single night! “People need to be warned!”

“You could try,” Ulysses countered, apparently unimpressed. “Tunnelers have weaknesses, just like everything else. Noise. Fire. Flash bangs. People in the Mojave could be armed. Taught to fight them. Prepared for it… but would they believe you?” Ulysses chuckled grimly, and I tried to compose myself. He may have been saying that simply to mock me, but just you wait. I promised myself right then and there that once I left the Divide, I’d make damn sure people were ready. Count on it.

“People…” He continued. “They don’t pay attention to danger until it’s far, far too late. And tunnelers… they’re danger like few understand. Seen them tear apart deathclaws. The deathclaw might kill some, but the rest will swarm it. Tear it apart, like… like Denver hounds.” Right, time to change the subject. I’m not going to get anywhere if I keep focusing on the tunnelers and that dead deathclaw and… yeah. Focus, moron. I cleared my throat.

“Denver, huh? That mean you’ve been to Dog Town, all the way in Legion territory?” I asked, finally urging my feet to move again. I already knew the answer, having listened to some of his logs, but I wanted to hear it from the man himself.

“Mojave and Divide aren’t the only roads I’ve walked. Walked the East, too. Before the Bull came. Back then… much like the Mojave before the Bear… tribes, towns, clutching to life. Bull did a better job.”

“That’s up for debate,” I muttered under my breath. “You know… those Marked Men I fought in Hopeville. Some of them looked like NCR, but they fought beside others wearing Legion gear…” Ulysses grunted, ED-E floating a little ahead of me now.

“Pain makes for strange allies.” He said simply. “The hate that the Bear and Bull shared across the battlefield… reshaped by sand and invisible fire. Now, turned against the Divide. Few survived…” He paused, searching for the word. “… intact. Murder and blood is all that remain. They fight invaders… monsters in the shadows… and they tear at each other. For sport. ” Ulysses grumbled something I couldn’t quite hear, and then continued. “Many NCR were already here when the destruction happened. Keeping the route East open, in fear of Cæsar. Fear of the Legion.”

“Wait, why would this place be important to the Legion?” Apart from there being NCR soldiers here, at least. But really… did those crimson fuckers need any other reason?

“The why of it. Hoover Dam. The Bear – NCR – couldn’t be allowed to reach it easily. Long 15, New Canaan… both bad enough. Kimball, Cæsar, House… you’d think their whole world was that damned Wall, cutting the Colorado.” It sounded a bit like he spat something away from whatever he was using as a microphone, and the next part definitely didn’t sound like it was meant for me:

“If I’d never laid eyes on it… never spoke of it…” My eyes went wide. ‘Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice,’ I thought to myself. If that was true, then he must’ve been one of the first Legion scouts. Maybe the first. It would certainly fit his M.O. He cleared his throat, and began again.

“The past can’t be changed. Once found, that Wall was all Cæsar could see… and the flag beyond it, a symbol big enough to challenge him. And The Divide. One of the roads to the Mojave – Legion was tasked with cutting that artery.” Ulysses let out another growl. “If you can’t kill the Bear in one stroke, bleed it. Starve it. That kind of murder… it’s what any of the Legion would have done. And now… The Divide belongs to History.”

“Y’know, speaking of history,” I said. “I found a few of those holotapes of yours.” For a very long while, Ulysses didn’t speak. ED-E stopped moving. It took a few seconds for me to realize that he wasn’t following, and when I finally got back to the eyebot, Ulysses spoke up.

“Didn’t think those would be found…” He snorted. “You know the Divide better than I thought.” He cleared his throat once more. “Had tech from the Big Empty. Recorder a woman gave me… didn’t survive the road. Cast it and the tapes aside… weren’t worth the words anyway.” He snorted out a laugh. “Not like I’d forget what happened. If you heard them… nothing but ramblings. Reminders for a man who doesn’t need them.” I was unconvinced.

“I don’t believe you,” I said aloud, shaking my head. “You wouldn’t have recorded those messages if they didn’t matter.” Ulysses grunted.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Who’s to say. You, perhaps,” Ulysses said flatly. If those were supposed to be questions, I couldn’t tell. He didn’t put any inflection in the words. “Found them, heard them after I cast them aside… maybe there was a purpose in that. If they matter… if History matters… we’ll see at the end of your road.” I shook my head. Talking to this guy was frustration incarnate. I looked back out at the highway stretching before me – the “High Road,” I think he called it.

“Where does this lead?” I asked, motioning with my head at the ruined highway.

“At the end of the High Road lies Ashton. And the silo there… That machine with you. It can open it. Wake it up, like it did the one in Hopeville.”

“Why do you hate ED-E so much?” I asked, leaning in close to the speaker grill. The hacked eyebot backed away from me. “I can hear that hate in your voice… Hell, I can practically taste it.”

“Hate?” Ulysses growled out, unaware that he sounded angrier than before. “No. There’s nothing to hate in metal. Steel. Gold. Or…” He snorted out a laugh. “Or platinum… Your machine? It’s just a tool. Made of wreckage from the Divide. Pieced together from scraps. Built without understanding by all that was brought here…”

Okay, time to change the subject. ED-E had already been freaking out earlier about that ‘locked in the Hopeville silo’ comment, and this was sure to make that even worse.

“When we first spoke in Hopeville,” I said, thinking quickly. “You mentioned that you’d sworn not to kill me. Why? You never explained –” Ulysses cut me off.

“You know the why of it.” I really didn’t, so I just shut up and let him talk. “If you don’t – I do. And that’s enough. Shows trust only walks so far West. Earned more than that, though, getting this far. We walk the same road. Carry the same colors. Can’t break that by making the road red. Want more than that… walk the Divide. Answers’ll come, closer you and your machine get to your home.”

That was definitely not coincidence. He keeps making references to my home… What does he mean by that?

“I’ve never been here before,” I said simply. Ulysses grumbled.

“Many in the Mojave think the Divide’s nothing but canyons and storm. Wasn’t always. There was life. A town, farther West… not an Old World town, like Hopeville. More recent. Something you saw. It had the name ‘The Divide,’ too. But… rather than cracks in the earth, it was a road from the West into the Mojave. A supply line. Took a… Courier to make that road. You. Back then, you saw the road with eyes facing East. This time… the Divide’s in the other direction. And if your eyes try to make sense of it when you reach it… home’s not what it was.”

“You keep saying that word, ‘home,’ as if you know where I was born. Trust me – you don’t.” This was getting insane. He was talking about things I’d done – or, at the very least, claiming that I’d done things – that I definitely don’t remember doing. I don’t remember any jobs that led me to a town called “The Divide,” like he’s claiming… Although, that said, I’ve had so many jobs in the past that I can’t really be expected to remember them all.

“Home isn’t where you’re born into this world,” Ulysses said, a bit more forcefully now. “You taught me that. Part of your message, whether you meant it or not. Can be a place of mind. A moment, where you know who you are. The History of it. And they can be places you breathe life into. Never would have known The Divide had it not been for you. The road you made with your tracks, again and again. You were the only one willing to make the journey to and from here… a hard road. Kept the land before The Divide alive through seasons, storms… can’t have been just a job. Was something more to you. Don’t feel for a place that hard… unless it’s Home.”

“You know, I’ve been to a lot of places in my day. Walked a lot of hard roads. Done a lot of jobs. Dropped off lots of packages. And I can tell you right now… doesn’t mean a damn thing.” Except maybe that I needed the money, I thought to myself. Ulysses snorted.

“No… it means everything!” He spat out the words like venom, marinated in gravel. “Even if you deny it, cast it aside… that speaks to what you are. Proves what happened here. It was you walking the road that kept The Divide alive. It grew from what you did. Settlers… camps… filling that Old World city, and turning it into something new. Chance for a new nation. New beginning. New way of thinking. Could’ve breathed new life into the Mojave, bridging East and West… like Hoover Dam, but not Old World. Something you made.” I backed up a little, surprised at the sudden passion in his words.

“You’re still making assumptions about all this…” I said, regaining my fortitude and standing my ground. Ulysses sighed again.

“No. Recounting History. NCR saw the worth in the road you made. Staked a claim, whether it was wanted there or not. True elsewhere in the Mojave. And where the Bear tries to cling to life, the Legion comes… bearing messages. Some brought by blade… others… by Couriers. You knew what was coming, as sure as I know what’s coming for you.” ED-E moved forward, positioning himself so that the only way I could look at him was backlit by the sun. I tried to block the glare with my hand, but it was practically blinding. “This time, you carry the burden. Walk West into the sun, and keep walking… until it dies. There – I’ll be waiting.”

The High Road certainly lived up to the name.

I found myself on a stretch of surprisingly intact highway, mounted on pillars that seemed to grow out of the swirling sand below. All around me were the skeletal metal and stone frames of buildings – none of which were poking out of the ground at quite the correct angle. Ahead of me, I could see other sections of ruined freeways, looping in, over, and around each other.

In a way, it kind of reminded me of The Interchange, right in the middle of the Boneyard. Maybe the Spaghetti Bowl, between New Reno and the Fortress Nugget. Both of those were communities built into the shadows of freeway intersections. Almost like the 188, but bigger. Actual towns. I don’t know what it is, but for some reason people nowadays who don’t have cars always seem to gravitate to the ruins of freeways to build shelters and shanty towns.

It was the same with this place, I could tell – even from this distance, I could just make out the telltale signs of shelters. Only here, the locals were bound to be Marked Men.

Oh, good.

“ED-E, are you sure that’s a good idea?” I whispered, crouching down low behind a Jersey barrier. I was making my way down the freeway with Sue’s camo engaged, and ED-E was floating right beside me… but he was not invisible. “I mean… what if you’re seen by some of the Marked Men?”

“Do not worry, Friend_Courier,” ED-E responded through the speaker near my ear. “If I am spotted, they will likely assume I am one of the eyebots we have seen flying around the area.”

It was certainly true enough that we’d seen several eyebots here. I poked my head over the concrete wall, and caught a glimpse of two more of the metal spheres, buzzing around a nearby building. But…

“Okay, yeah – so what’ll you do if the Marked Men use those eyebots for target practice, huh?”

“I said, do not worry, Friend_Courier,” ED-E replied flatly. “I am fully capable of defending myself, should the need arise.” There was a click in my ear, followed by silence as ED-E buzzed forward to a pair of buildings about half a mile down the freeway. The building on the right was standing (mostly) upright; the other was leaning across the freeway, several of the top floors having crashed into the first one.

“I’m starting to get worried about ED-E…” Sue whispered, beating me to the punch. I nodded, moving forward.

“Yeah… he seems pretty rattled.” I crept closer to the two buildings ED-E was orbiting. “I probably would be too, if I were in his shoes.” I caught a glimpse of some movement: up in one of the top floor windows of the upright building. It was almost… it was a humanoid shape, but it didn’t look like one of the Marked Men. Maybe. I didn’t get a good enough look to be sure. I shook it off, and kept moving forward.

“ED-E doesn’t have shoes,” Sue responded, and then added quickly: “But yes, I think I understand. He is bothered by the implications of some of Ulysses’ words. That ED-E is actually a copy of the original, correct?” I nodded.

“Yeah… that seems to be the case.” Sue was quiet for some time. The closer I got (and the more I stared at the now empty window), the more I wondered: had I just imagined it?

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” She finally asked, a bit hesitantly. Now, it was my turn to be quiet. The wind and sand howled around me, pelting me with grit.

“I don’t think it matters,” I said eventually. Before I got a chance to elaborate on what I meant, there was a click in my ear and ED-E spoke to me again.

“Friend_Courier. I think you need to see this.”

Tik. Tik-ik. Tik.

Nestled into the ruins of the collapsed building leaning over the freeway was a Marked Man camp. The building loomed over me like an arch, with loose wires looping in and out of the concrete frame and strips of long cloth blowing in the wind like flags. The area was flooded with low levels of radiation from a nearby warhead. It was strapped to a flatbed that had been removed from whatever truck had hauled it and was sitting up on blocks. The radiation wasn’t quite as bad as the fortress in Hopeville, but it was definitely noticeable.

I’d kept myself hidden among the cover on the approach, but the closer I got, the more I realized: something didn’t feel right. I didn’t see anything on the motion tracker in my helmet’s heads-up display. No thermal signatures. Only a few dim electrical signals from a generator somewhere near the top of the upright building.

“Where is everyone?” I asked aloud. I stood up, clicking the button on my belt to become visible, and… nothing. Nobody took any potshots at me. No flares were fired in my direction. The only sound was the wind howling through the empty buildings above me.

“Looks like they’re gone…” Sue whispered.

After a few minutes of looking around, it soon became abundantly clear that the Marked Men hadn’t gone anywhere. Every one was dead. Practically every concrete surface was covered in blood. There were spent shell casings and discarded weapons littering the cracked highway beneath the buildings. There were a few mauled body parts scattered around the camp, but I couldn’t see anything larger than a hand or a foot.

“ED-E,” I hissed, gripping my rifle tightly and advancing through the carnage. “You’re seein’ this, right?”

“Affirmative,” ED-E buzzed right above my head, darting from corner to corner of the ruined camp. “All hostiles in the area have been eliminated by an unknown party.”

“What do you think? Tunnelers?” I asked. There certainly were enough claw marks around… at least, they looked like claw marks. Huge gashes were ripped out of the concrete near almost every splatter of blood. Of course, they could’ve been made by those gigantic swords I’d seen a few of the Marked Men use, so who knows?

“Unlikely,” ED-E buzzed onward, to a wrecked airstream trailer just ahead on the freeway. “The damage appears to be recent: within the last hour, based on the oxidation of spilled blood around the camp.” ED-E zoomed close to the ground, darting a few inches from the road between a pair of wrecked cars and scrap metal. “And there are no emergence holes. No solid ground. Nowhere on these raised highway platforms for the underground creatures to appear.”

“Maybe it was another group of Marked Men?” I asked, thinking aloud. There was a section of highway just overhead; it ended abruptly, with jagged, broken edges and frayed metal cables sticking out like long fingers, grasping at the sky. “Ulysses did say they liked to… ‘tear’ at each other…” For sport.

“We should keep moving,” Sue whispered. “Something about this place sends a chill up my diodes…”

I was just about to agree, but then I stopped when I passed by the trailer. It was dented, it had no windows, it was riddled with bullet holes… and a blue flag marker was painted on the side.

“Hold on a sec,” I said, cautiously stepping into the trailer. “I’m gonna check on something.” The inside of the trailer was a mess, but it definitely had the feel of a camp. Not one that belonged to the ruined and empty Marked Man outpost, but a campsite that an individual had used sometime in the past. And it didn’t take a genius to guess who…

Sure enough, near the back – wedged between a filthy, saggy mattress covered in pieces of blood-soaked cardboard and a duffel bag full of scrap metal and rusty tin cans – was another one of Ulysses’ holotapes: this one was marked with a .16 on the end of the label.

“Sheason?” Sue squeaked softly. “Seriously. We should leave…”

“Don’t worry,” I said, shoving the holotape into my duster. “We’re goi-” I paused when I looked up at the back of the trailer’s wall. I hadn’t noticed it before, because it seemed to blend in with the metal, but there was some kind of graffiti sprayed on the wall – but obscured almost entirely by filth and grime. I brushed a gloved hand against it to scrape away the muck, and another one of Ulysses flag markers was revealed.

Red.

“I think you’re right…” I started to slowly back up.

THUD.

I wheeled around, aiming my rifle frantically in the direction of the sound. It came from above. Something had just landed on the top of the trailer. Something big, and very, very heavy. Nearly all of the roof was bent inward.

Movement next to the window on my left. Something long, thick and scaly: an enormous leathery tail. Long black claws sailed past the window to my right, like the fins on a school of sand sharks. A low, loud, guttural growl reverberated from above me, shaking the metal walls of the trailer.

“Friend_Courier,” ED-E’s voice buzzed in my ear. “Do not –”

I never heard what he said next. There was a wrenching sound of metal against metal, a shower of sparks, and a huge section of the trailer was ripped clean off. The deathclaw just grabbed hold of one side and ripped right through the steel like it was made out of butter.

I was already running at that point. I practically dove for what was left of the door, and bolted. The deathclaw roared so loud that it almost drowned out the sound of the metal being shredded where I’d been standing seconds before. Almost.

“Oh my!” Sue squealed as I pulled the Red Glare off my back, running all the while. “That’s quite large!” I didn’t say anything. I just did my best to reload the rocket launcher as quickly as I could on the move. The pavement of the freeway below me shook, and I could just make out the sound of heavy footfalls over the tinny 6-note tune the rocket launcher blasted in my ear. The two halves of the rocket launcher clicked together, I vaulted over a nearby wreck – sliding across what was left of the hood – and wheeled around to face the deathclaw with the rocket launcher at the ready.

It was on all fours, crouching down low to the road as it advanced, and it still towered over me! It stared at me with a pair of beady, oil-black eyes, snarling and slobbering with a wide open mouth filled entirely with razor sharp fangs. Its tail was swishing back and forth in the air above it. One of its massive claw-tipped hands was on the roof of a nearby wreck, and as it moved forward, the paw just went straight through, flattening the middle of the rusted out car like a pancake.

It wasn’t running – it was just casually strolling towards me on all fours. It was toying with me, and that somehow made it worse than if it was actually running at me full speed. Those brief seconds I stared down the two-ton murder machine felt like six years.

I braced myself and squeezed the trigger. One after another, the screaming red rockets flew out of the table on my shoulder, and all of them went straight for the face. The explosions completely obscured the beast in a storm of sparks, color, noise, and smoke. Rocks and tiny pieces of shrapnel pelted me, and for a minute it almost looked like that had killed the monster…

…and then the deathclaw erupted out of the fiery red smoke, claws reaching forward and raking the air. It was snarling, spitting, and still slightly on fire, but completely unharmed.

“FUCK!” I yelled. The deathclaw charged at me with both arms outstretched, and my grip on the Red Glare vanished. The rocket launcher clattered to the ground as I dove to the side, just narrowly avoiding getting sliced in half. Behind me, I heard a crunch as one of the Jersey barriers on the freeway was smashed to pieces. I tried to roll and get back up an-

WHUMP!

I was caught in the midsection by a tail that came out of nowhere. All the wind rushed out of my lungs, and everything became a blur. I tumbled through the air, flying who the fuck knows how far or where, and only stopped when I crashed back-first (and upside-down) into the side of a truck. The armor softened the blow a little, and it didn’t feel like I had any broken ribs, but…

OKAY! Yeah, turns out a deathclaw charging at you is just as terrifying if it’s upside down! That’s good to know!

I scrambled to my feet and desperately pushed off the ground to get out of the way. In a flash, the side of the truck I’d been thrown against was gone: smashed to pieces when the deathclaw headbutted the damn thing with its horns, having charged at it like a bighorner.

I was back to running. I didn’t look over my shoulder, because I knew it wasn’t stuck. The sound of wrenching, rusty metal breaking and folding was proof enough that it had pulled itself free. But on the plus side, the beginnings of a plan were forming as I ran straight at the warhead in the middle of the Marked Men camp. I pulled the laser detonator out of my duster, gulped involuntarily when I heard a roar from behind me, ignored the clicking from my Pip Boy’s Geiger counter, and kept running after I passed the warhead.

I was maybe 50 feet away when I spun around, skidding to a stop, laser detonator pointing at the nuke and finger already on the trigger. The laser beams sliced through the air, impacting the side of the warhead, and I only hoped that I was outside the blast radius. The deathclaw was still lumbering forward, not even trying for full speed, and it looked like he was going to pass right by the –

CLANG!

The beast backhanded the warhead before it got a chance to explode. It tumbled off the truck like it was made out of cardboard, flattened a wall made of scrap metal on the way, and then went sailing straight down out of sight over the edge of the freeway.

Oh, balls.

Think fast, chucklenuts. You’ve got an angry deathclaw looking to make a meal of you, and you don’t have any kind of weapons on you except some dinky pistols and your fists, one of which can punch-

It was like a light bulb lit up over my head. Fuck it, worth a shot. What have I got to lose, right? I didn’t have much of a choice, and it’s not like I’d have all that long to care if I fucked up.

I planted my feet and reached back with my cybernetic hand, readying a punch just as it closed the distance. It wasn’t reaching to slice me with its claws; the way its mouth was wide open, aiming right at me, it almost looked like it was planning to swallow me whole. It let out another roar, blasting me in the face with its hot breath…

THWUMP!

Somehow, I managed to land one good, solid crack against its jaw. The deathclaw recoiled from the punch, but it hadn’t appeared to do any damage. It was staring bug-eyed off at nothing just to the side with an almost dazed expression… sort of like someone who’d just been slapped unexpectedly, and was too shocked to do anything about it except freeze.

No such luck here, though. It shook its head several times, and then wheeled around to try and swipe at me with one of its massive claws, roaring and spitting all the while. But I dove and rolled under the swinging paw, missing it by inches. Probably. The claws dug deep into the concrete surface of the highway, sending chunks of rubble flying everywhere.

Just as I was getting back on my feet, I saw the tail start to come at me, just like before – but I was ready for it this time. I kicked off the ground, vaulted on top of the swinging tail, and used it as a leg up so I could grab the spines on its back. I scrambled for grip, grabbing hold of the spikes growing out of its spine as tightly as I could, climbing over its back like I was climbing a mountain… except this mountain was fighting back.

For a split second, I was reminded of my fight with Gabe. The deathclaw writhed and shook beneath me, trying to knock me off every second, but I held onto the spines for dear life. Remember the lessons of the bucking brahmin in the Broken Spoke, Sheason! Sixteen seconds can be a long time, you can do this!

It roared loudly, and swiped with one of its massive claws, trying to swat me off its back like I was an annoying fly, but it didn’t seem to have the proper range of motion in its arm to hit me. I reached forward, grabbing the base of the left horn, and pulled the Ranger Sequoia from its holster. I didn’t have much choice of weapons on me, but shooting Gabe in the back of the skull seemed to work well enough. Granted, I’d had a holorifle against a glass brain-case, then…

It tried to shake me off violently again, roaring almost as loud as the earlier sandstorm, and I almost lost my grip… but through luck, skill, or sheer determination, I somehow managed to hold on. I buried the muzzle of the Ranger Sequoia against the back of its skull, cocked the hammer, and fired.

There was a massive spark, and the bullet bounced harmlessly off its thick, scaly hide.

“FUCK!” I couldn’t help but yell. Even worse, I lost my grip on its horn, and it finally managed to buck me off. I tumbled through the air for a few seconds, losing my grip on the Ranger Sequoia. I managed to right myself just in time to slam into the gap between a rusted hulk of a car wreck and a Jersey barrier.

And now I’m stuck. Great. Oh, look! And the deathclaw is coming at me mouth-first again! I tried to worm my way free, but I was too slow. In a flash, the monster came down hard, snapping its mouth shut… right around my cybernetic arm.

It was like time stood still. The deathclaw looked perplexed, snorting at me. Its teeth were clamped around my arm… but hadn’t gone through it. The massive toothy jaw was wedged open slightly, unable to completely close around my metal bicep.

I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing, I just acted. I reached around inside, grabbed hold of the deathclaws tongue, punched the roof of its mouth, and wedged my elbow against its lower jaw. When it roared this time, I got a fantastic (and disgusting) view of the back of its throat opening up, spraying me with spittle and blasting me in the face with hot air. It started thrashing, but couldn’t move with me holding onto its tongue with my cybernetic hand, and it couldn’t close its mouth hard enough to break the metal shell around my arm. It was like my arm was a cybernetic jaws-of-life.

“You want something to eat?” I yelled, reaching for That Gun behind me. “EAT THIS!” I shoved the barrel into the soft, unprotected flesh on the inside of its mouth, and pulled the trigger over and over again. Five muzzle flashes erupted inside its mouth until the revolver finally clicked dry.

The monster shuddered over me, gurgling and coughing. It let out one last groan before blood poured from its mouth, and suddenly it went limp – collapsing down on top of me, and further pinning me in place.

“Oh, fer FUCK sake!” I grumbled. It was like a sack of bricks had landed on my legs! It took a great deal of twisting and wiggling (not to mention just a little bit of man-maneuvering) but eventually I managed to pull myself out from under the dead scaly mass of meat. On the way, I let go of its tongue, and grabbed hold of one of its teeth, pulling it out. It wasn’t quite the size of a steak knife, but at three inches long, it was still pretty impressive. Without really thinking, I shoved it in my pocket.

“Ugh…” I clutched my head and leaned against the Jersey barrier, staring at the dead deathclaw… and then at the length of highway. I was quite a long way from that now ripped in half airstream trailer, and nearly all of my weapons were littering various points of the freeway. Hell, I was probably going to have to burn fifteen minutes just looking for everything…

“Let’s never do that again.” Sue squeaked. I nodded, letting out a weary, grim chuckle.

“Agreed,” I looked around just in time to see ED-E float down from the sky. “Oh, yeah, NOW you show up! Feel free to step in any time, you know?” I let out a tired laugh, hopefully to let him know that I wasn’t serious.

ED-E hovered in midair, staring at me silently.

“…ED-E?” I asked, already suspecting what was coming.

“Mediocre…” Ulysses voice growled out of the speaker grill.