Chapter 13

Twenty men left Rivet City. Sixteen of them marched in a strict column, with two scouts in front and two at the rear. Septimus was at the head of the main column, Jessica and Jericho trailed behind in the centre. Jericho had his combat shotgun slung over his shoulder. Jessica herself had opted for a 10mm pistol from Flak and Shrapnel's gun shop. She had never really felt comfortable with anything larger than a pistol. She used the free weight to carry extra doses of stimpacks, rad-away and some food. If she were going to escape, she didn't want to be weighed down by a weapon she was not skilled enough to use effectively. Seeing her preparations, Septimus had given her a quizzical look. But Jessica had just shrugged and said, "I want to be prepared for anything."

"Stay in the group," the Centurion instructed, "the city is a labyrinth."

The troop crossed the drawbridge and descended down into the dark, claustrophobic subway tunnels of Anacostia. The scouts rushed a head, keeping low and silent. Septimus had the column halt and waited for them to return, which they did a few minutes later. "All clear, sir."

Septimus waved the column forward into the darkness. "The underground places of this Wasteland are often home to ghouls and other abominations. We have lost men before. We patrol it as best we can, but they seem to grow out of the darkness itself."

"Ghouls in sewahs an' subway tunnels? I coulda told ya that." Jericho whispered to Jessica as they moved forward. She smirked with him, but said nothing.

Sources of light dotted the station, and the tunnels – old pre-war lights, and barrels of old burning fuel set up and maintained by the Legion to mark their path. The tunnels were long and cold, and as Jessica listened to her own echoing feet, she felt apprehension set in. she found herself straining to hear the world around her. Anything to break the dead white noise of the tunnel itself. She swore she could sometimes hear the pitter patter of dry leathery feet, or the occasional harsh animal growl of ghouls, but she wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not.

They passed by old derailed train cars, leaning up against the tunnel walls. They were grey and decrepit, with smashed windows and rusting hulls with rubble heaped around them. The tunnels grew narrower, with gaps sometimes barely able to fit two men across. The column grew long and disorganized. Every so often, Septimus would draw a halt so that they could regain their formation and do a head count.

This careful organization saved them. They were passing between railcars when a dry, throaty roar echoed through the tunnel. At the far end, a spindly red and brown shape in black armour appeared, raising its arms and growling.

"Reaver!" one of the Legionaries cried out.

All at once brown bodies poured forth from the rail cars beside them, swarming the column.

Jericho shoved Jessica aside as a shape dropped down behind her, and he blew it away with his combat shotgun.

"C'mon, boss!" he grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and maneuvered they both through the chaos. Bodies flailed in the darkness. Machetes glinted in the meager light, and limbs bounced off the bloodspattered railcars as the Legion soldiers traded blows with their feral opponents. Jessica pushed and pulled and dodged her way through, her own survival instincts kicking in as she made a beeline for Septimus, who was two railcars ahead of her.

The tunnel echoed loudly with the sounds of battle. The two decani had managed to gather their men, and they quickly evacuated the center of the ambush area. They formed a double-ranked killing wall; hunting rifles cracked from the second rank, pouring smoke and fire into the mob of ghouls while machete-wielding soldiers in front kept the grasping, clawing horde at bay. At the other end of the train line was Septimus, leading a group of six Legion soldiers. He opened his line to let Jessica and Jericho through. The ex-raider took the last few paces walking backwards. His shotgun boomed repeatedly as the writhing brown shapes hissed and squealed, rushing for them both. Septimus drove forward, machete leading the way as he hacked limbs and heads off the horde, he worked with the raider to close the gap in their line.

Watching from behind the skirmish line, Jessica heard a strange splash. Droplets of something wet spattered her sleeveless duster, and the Geiger counter on her pip boy squealed an alarm. She turned to find the source: the Ghoul Reaver was approaching at high speed. As she watched, the creature tore off a chunk of itself and threw it at them. The disgusting projectile arced through the air and hit one of the legion troops in the back. He cried out, staggering to the side, and the skirmish line nearly broke as his comrades rushed to fill the gap.

Jessica pulled out her pistol and began firing at the shape as it drew nearer, its leathery feet pounding against the cold, dank concrete. She hit it multiple times, but none of her bullets seemed to have much effect on the creature's spongy flesh, and it was nearly upon them.

Septimus glanced backwards, saw the danger approaching, and ordered his men to charge. They did, pushing the remaining ghouls back in a sudden furious drive forwards, right into the waiting machetes and rifles of the rest of the column.

Yet the Centurion did not join them. Instead he turned to confront the Reaver by himself. He rushed towards it, gripping his machete tightly. As they reached each other, both combatants swung. Yet the Reaver was slightly faster, and landed an almighty blow to the Centurion's side, throwing him into the cold concrete wall. His weapon clattered to the floor.

Jessica heard him huff in surprise and pain at the creature's strength, but he rolled in time to dodge another blow. The Centurion scrambled for his machete, with the Reaver hot on his heels, and grabbed it. He spun and rose to his feet, delivering a quick upwards slice which caught the ghoul across the chest, cutting it lightly and clanging off its decrepit armour. The creature swiped at him several times, but he was ready, and flowed around each blow, finally spinning out of the way and delivering a decisive chop to the ghoul's upper arm, which dropped to the floor.

The ghoul froze in pain for a moment, and Septimus managed a second blow, lopping its head off. The body tottered for a moment before crumpling onto the steel tracks. The Centurion dropped to one knee beside it, wheezing and clutching his side where the creature had clawed him.

Back at the rail cars, the machetes dipped and rose and dipped again. A few last shots rang out and then silence once against blanketed the tunnel.

"Victory!" One Decanus shouted, raising his machete. The men responded in kind, cheering, and waving their own weapons.

Jessica scrambled over to Septimus. "Are you okay?"

"Damned abominations!" he hissed.

She pulled out a stimpack, and he grabbed her wrist, "what is that? Prewar chemicals?"

Jessica tched disapprovingly, "oh, stop whining and take your medicine." Big tough soldier can't stand a needle?

Septimus lowered his hand and let her inject him. His breathing immediately eased up. After a moment, he rose to his feet. "Thank you, Immune."

"No problem."

He turned to his men, "sound off!"

They obeyed, rolling through from one to twenty. No casualties. Jessica gave some Rad Away to the soldier who had been hit by the Reaver's projectile, but there was no permanent damage.

"Nicely done," he congratulated, "but stay sharp. We have a job to do and in Caesar's name we will see it through!"

They reformed their column and continued through the tunnels, keeping a sharp eye out for more ambushes.

They finally made it out of the claustrophobic train tunnels and into the daylight of Vernon Square. A cathedral-like roof of Old world metal and broken glass panes arched over their heads as they filed out into the train station. The scouts moved first, securing the station as the rest of the column filed through. They moved in an orderly fashion, erecting three-man posts at intervals along the platform. Once they were confident the platform was secure, the scouts moved vanished into the rubble.

Jessica moved a little more slowly, taking in the massive multi-story buildings and the broken store fronts which looked out across the railway platform. She had been around large buildings before, of course. New Vegas, the Sierra Madre, and the Divide all had their share of old world structures. But it wasn't the same as the D.C. ruins. The New Vegas Strip was exactly that: a few blocks of very fancy hotels surrounded by a flat desert. The Sierra Madre was a resort, full of tightly packed alleyways and tile rooftops. The Divide was a hellscape all its own: buildings upside down or sideways or fallen into enormous pieces. All of it haunted by the Marked Men and other horrific denizens.

No, D.C. was different than all of them. It was a city. A city of big plans and big dreams and big ideas. Beyond the concrete buildings, down each street and ally lay more concrete buildings with regal architecture. Grandiose statues and sculptures. There was pride there – an old world grandeur in the wide streets and crumbling buildings. It was muffled by the bombs, yet still present and palpable. This was the heart of the Old World. The core of American Power. Every building, in its architecture alone bespoke old money, and the lordly pride of statesmen.

It was a clue, perhaps, as to the identity of these Capital Wastelanders, and why they were so difficult to conquer, so different from the spears and body-paint of the wild tribals which inhabited the less civilized areas of America: here the people had a shred of their old identity left. Living with these monuments they still remembered, were reminded daily, of how things used to be. Of what the old world was; they existed in the shadow if its pinnacle. Its crowning achievement.

The Legion paused there for a moment, each soldier checking his weapons. A few of them had bruises and scratches from their skirmish with the ghouls in the tunnel. Some of them were quite young, actually. Probably in their late teens. The two youngest looked quite shaken from the experience in the tunnels.

Jessica took a seat on a bench, with Jericho silently taking up station behind her. She allowed herself to be a reflection of the city: stately pride, with one leg crossed over the other and her arms spread out across the back of the bench. The space was hers, as was the view of the city, and the Legion column.

She watched as Septimus moved from man to man, speaking quietly to them in both English and in Latin, checking up on each of them in turn. He stood out in the crowd, with his shining armour and helmet glinting in the sunlight. As she watched, he glanced back at her a couple times. She made to effort to hide her attention, but she did divide it between him and the city. It was a strange thing to see: he was a good leader, and a battle-hardened solider. All business… except when he looked her way and his expression would soften slightly. A fidgety nervousness would underpin his stoic deportment.

Jessica liked that. It made her feel powerful.

Eventually he had checked up on all of his men and immediately made his way over to her.

Jessica looked up at him as he approached. She said, "And how is everyone doing?"

"Fit and ready for battle, Immune." He reported, "We wait my scouts' return. We know that the raiders have made a nearby hospital their home."

She shrugged nonchalantly, "So we wait. Gives us time to talk."

Septimus smiled, "Indeed. I am glad you chose to accompany us."

"I am too." She said.

"You should have chosen a more powerful weapon, though." He observed, pointing at the 10mm pistol buckled to her hip.

Jessica laughed, "I don't pick weapons, Septimus, I pick people." She bit her lip and ran her eyes up and down his tightfitting armour, still stained from the subway ambush. She said, "I think I chose rather well, actually."

The Centurion nodded.

"So who da fuck is this guy, boss?" Jericho asked, still standing guard behind Jessica. It occurred to her that he had never properly been introduced to the Legionary. They had stopped at the store for supplies on the way out, but there had been little conversation.

Jessica scolded herself. It was easy to take her friends for granted sometimes. They always followed her but so rarely asked questions or got proactively involved in her business that she sometimes forgot to include them.

Septimus' expression hardened, and he raised his brow, glaring at the raider. "Take care how you speak, dissolute, or you shall find yourself up on the cross."

"Yeah?" Jericho challenged, "I dare ya ta try it, ya-"

"Oh, both of you stop." Jessica snapped irritably. To Jericho, she said, "This is Septimus Servius. Centurion of Caesar's Thirteenth Legion. Treat him with respect. Septimus, this is Jericho. He's an… associate of mine."

The Centurion raised an eyebrow. "You keep strange company, Immune. But as you say you choose your people with care. A friend of your is a friend of the Legion." He gave Jericho a gracious nod, "ave, Amicus. May Caesar's grace give you strength and guide your hand."

Jericho stared at the centurion, and then shrugged, "Yeah …sure. Abacus to you too, pal."

Septimus grimaced, but said nothing.

Jessica gave the Centurion a sidelong look. She said, "Vorenus told me about what happened with the first invasion …with the Wanderer."

His mouth tightened, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn't speak, but he looked back at her and took a seat beside her. He removed his helmet and ran a hand through his short brown hair. He smelled of sweat and leather. He said, "I am not proud of it."

"I've lost people too." Jessica said, "well… one person. But still…"

"I do not like to discuss it."

"It must have been hard," she said, "losing so many men… the weight of it must be such a heavy burden." Tell me everything, Septimus. Let's get to know each other…

The story spilled out of him. "Legionaries are trained as children to wield their blades. To work as part of a larger whole. To fight and win. Regardless of rank, they are my brothers. Each of us is an exemplar. We are honed, mentally, physically, and morally. It is our duty to pacify and tame this world. To bring it to heel and through law and discipline build something new from the mistakes our forbearers made. Each Legionary is worth twenty raiders. Fifty ghouls. We are fighting men and defenders of civilization. To lose so many at one time, to one savage profligate…" he shook his head, chewing his lip, "Caesar did not trust me, but I did not trust myself. I waited in my tent while he deliberated. I had expected to be crucified. Or set alight and thrown off a cliff. I expected to be made an example of. To be punished for my failures. And I would have deserved it."

He met her eyes, "your brother and I had served together on the march east. Many campaigns. Many tribes conquered. He went before Caesar to argue my case."

"He has a lot of respect for you, Septimus."

"And I for him, but it was the Good Doctor, in the end, who convinced Caesar to let me live. He told stories of strange, wandering people. Children of the Atom, to whom the radiation grants gifts instead of sickness and death. Men who can fight harder, move faster, and heal like no others."

"He's been making his own?" Jessica prompted.

"Abominations." The Centurion spat the word out, "Krupp and Martin are but two of many. And what I had faced – the Lone Wanderer – was simply a natural-born version." He shook his head. That madness had taken his eyes again and he glared into the middle distance at visions only he could see. "I had blamed myself for overconfidence, and all of that time the world had put me up against a god!"

"I'm sorry…" Jessica said.

"When I meet him, I am going to kill him." Septimus replied, "It is that simple. I am owed blood. Honor must be restored – my men's honor more than my own. We have returned now with more men and a better plan and Abominations of our own. We will be victorious."

"I'm sure we will." Jessica agreed smoothly.

He turned to her, "But tell me about your people, Immune. Who did you lose?"

"A… friend. He was a soldier too." Jessica skirted carefully around mentioning any factions. She didn't need him knowing who the NCR were or where she fit into the geopolitical milieu of the Mojave. She said, "He had been through a lot. Suffered a lot." For a moment she was back in the lounge of the Lucky 38, her lips pressed against Boone's. She recalled the sniper's quiet, reassuring physical presence. His steady voice, and strong arms. She swallowed and said, "He never really got the chance to make things better."

"Was he your lover?"

Jessica stared at the Centurion, taken aback by his bluntness, but it seemed an honest question. He must have picked up something in her tone... She took a moment to consider how to answer. There was nothing gloating, or threatening, or even jealous about his expression. He was simply watching her with his soft brown eyes, displaying nothing but curiosity and sympathy. It was a certain kind of strength of character which Jessica had to admit she was not used to seeing from Legionaries.

He looked away, "I apologize, Immune. My curiosity got the better of me."

She said, "We were almost lovers… We were… I don't know what we were… But we had an argument. He left, and in the desert he ran up against someone more powerful than him, and lost before we could find out."

"Septimus said, "I am sorry. I'm sure he fought hard to see you again."

Jessica remembered how cold the sniper's hand had been as he lay motionless on the medial cot. She remembered the way the grief had welled up and overtaken her. At least Craig Boone had at last found a kind of peace. But his death was her loss, and the Mojave's.

She spotted movement beyond the Legion picket line, and pointed. The scouts were returning with their reports. They crossed the picket and reported directly to Septimus, who stood and returned their salutes; once again the Soldier.

"Salve, Centurion. The profligates are holed up in the hospital down the street." The man pointed southward.

"Approach?" Septimus asked.

"Well guarded, sir. Angle iron, barbed wire, and a minigun nest at the end of a long, straight road with mines."

"Any force running straight through would be torn up…" Septimus mused, rubbing his chin.

"That's far better prepared than I'd expect from raiders." Jessica observed, "aren't they usually too drugged out for an organized defense?"

The Centurion raised his eyebrows, but nodded. He turned to his scouts, "Did you count their numbers and weapons?"

"Six men on the main defenses. We counted at least three more entering and leaving the Hospital."

"Already near half our number…" Septimus observed, "and inside the building?"

The scouts shifted uncomfortably, "we were unable to approach, Centurion."

They fell silent as their commander considered his options. "We do not have the men for a frontal assault…"

"There is a side-door, Centurion, but it too is inaccessible. Heavy casualties, either way."

Septimus scowled and turned away, "there is a solution…" he muttered, "we just have to find it."

Jessica watched in amusement as the Centurion considered the information before him.

"Sounds like ya just don't have da men." Jericho said, not even bothering to keep the withering scorn out of his voice.

Septimus turned to him angrily, "I came here with twenty men and a mission to complete, and I will leave here with twenty men and a hospital of dead profligates!"

"Well…" Jessica said cheerfully, rising to her feet, "I think I've heard enough. If you boys can resist killing each other for ten minutes I think I'll take a look myself."

"Wait, what? Seriously, Boss?" Jericho asked.

"Immune, I will send my scouts back with you." Septimus said.

"No. you keep them here." Jessica saw his expression and she chuckled, "I'll be fine. You all stay here. I'm just going to go have a look for myself. That means you too, Jericho."

Both the men grumbled in protest, but Jessica ignored them, and proceeded out into the city alone.

The Legion scouts were correct: the Raiders had done a very good job of setting up a defensible position. The main hospital entrance was at the end of a long city block, entirely enclosed - no exit, no cover. Jessica was crouched at the far end of the street to have a look herself at the defenses.

It occurred to her for a moment that she could just walk away. Just keep exploring – moving further away from the area. Freedom was within her grasp. That would mean leaving Jericho with the Legion – not a healthy option for him. Besides, she would likely eventually have to reenter the subway system, and she could not survive a horde of the zombie-like feral ghouls. The underground Wasteland was too violent a place to travel without protection.

If what she was seeing at the far end of the block was any gauge, so was the surface.

Around the entrance the raiders had set up a rather frightening castle-like apparatus; enormous imposing spikes of rusty angle iron rose from holes in the tarmac, fanned violently outwards Barbed wire had been tangled in between them. A pile of rubble behind one barricade had been reinforced, and rose a full eight feet above the street. It was manned by a raider carrying a minigun. Between the angle iron, Jessica could see more raiders patrolling back and forth, armed with assault rifles and hunting rifles.

The sign for the hospital had been torn down, and on the wall behind it, shining in bright red paint against the grey concrete, the raiders had outlined a grotesque effigy of an enormous misshapen man. The words beneath the hulking figure read: Krong's Kassle.

Far above all of their heads, a radio tower on top of the hospital had long-since collapsed, and had fallen across the street, smashing an enormous hole in the next building over – a stately looking hotel with a yellowing brickwork exterior.

It looked strong enough to cross.

She carefully waited until she thought the raiders' attentions were occupied, and then darted across the open street, searching for an entrance to the neighboring hotel. She found it about a hundred meters along: an ornate wooden door, flanked by marble columns.

Jessica pulled out her pistol and shouldered the door open.

The interior was gloomy, but lit by fading bulbs – an interesting detail; the building still had power. The air thick and still as a tomb. It stank of death and rot. The floor had been a beautiful thick carpet, but was now worn and moth-eaten. Jessica crept out of the foyer and into the room at large. The entire ground floor of the lobby was covered in massive, rotten corpses. Their bulk betrayed them as supermutants. Clouds of small black flies buzzed thick around the corpses.

"What are we doin heya?" a gruff voice demanded.

"Shut yer gob, Sprinket! We're checkin' da place out. Boss wants to move in, maybe. I like it here. It's swanky."

She crouched and shuffled into a corner, listening closely.

"I sweya dis was a bad idea settin up wid Krong. He's too mean!"

"We gotta be mean! Ya wanna live under da Legion go fuck off ta Rivet City. Under Krong, we're free, man! We got fire power, we got rooms and beds and food. We just gotta keep da King happy, yeah?"

"Yeah I guess, but if we don't find food for Krong, he gonna eat us!"

The voices were coming from the upper level. Jessica crept slowly up a set of nearby stairs, pistol at the ready.

Two raiders were silhouetted in an alcove which branched off of the second floor pedway. A large, broad-chested man, and a thin, spindly teenager. The larger man was armed with a hunting rifle. The smaller had a pool cue. Jessica crept towards, them, the large raider began to recite a poem. Clearly something he had memorized. A work song of some kind.

Eat the Meat for Krong the Strong!

Drum the Beat for Krong the Strong!

Seek the Meek for Krong the Strong!

Cull the Weak for Krong the Strong!

Man the Guns for Krong the Strong!

Chosen Ones for Krong the Strong!

She aimed carefully at the larger man. Her first shot went a little wide, flying over the shoulder of one of the raiders and hitting the wall behind him. He jumped at the noise, which is why her second shot skimmed his abdomen. He cried out in pain, and dropped to the floor.

The second raider had dove for cover, swearing madly. He found shelter behind the nearest wall. He peeked out for a moment, and Jessica fired two more bullets, driving him back. The man on the floor made a scramble for his hunting rifle, and grabbed it, rolling over to sight on Jessica. "You fuckin' bitch! Fucking cunt!"

She dodged to the side as he pulled the trigger. His bullet missed by a good eighteen inches and blew a large hole in the ornate lobby ceiling.

Encouraged by his friend, the spindly younger raider leapt from cover, brandishing his pool cue and charging at her. Jessica fired two more shots, hitting him in the thigh, and dead centre of his chest. He collapsed immediately, slumping over the railing in front of him.

The larger raider had managed to get to his feet, and was raising his rifle for a second shot, "I'm gonna fuckin' make you feel this, bitch! Come get some!"

His second shot narrowly missed her head as Jessica dove desperately off the second floor. The man kept firing, bullets sending puffs of debris into the dead air as she sprinted through the corpses and into a side hallway.

"I'm comin' fer you, Cunt! You can't hide!"

Breathing heavily, her heart pounding against her ribs, Jessica sprinted down the hall searching for a room to hole up in. a strategy, or a way to win. Yet every room was too small, every corner too tight. There was no way to double-back, and she had no mines or grenades.

Septimus was right: She should have armed herself better.

She reached the end of the hallway to see a pile of rubble covering an overturned office desk. Light streamed down from a gaping hole in the ceiling.

"Yer not gonna like what happens when I find ya!" the raider's voice and footsteps echoed through the little maze of hallways, "I'll take ya prisoner! Feed ya ta Krong!"

Jessica holstered her pistol and jumped for the edge of the opening. She caught it with her fingertips and planted her feet against the wall, pushing off to give herself a boost as she clambered up through the hold in the ceiling and back onto the second floor.

"Gonna find ya!" the enormous raider declared from below.

But Jessica smiled; there was only one entrance to the little collection of hallways. She had passed by staircases which had all collapsed. She moved as silently as she could back out onto the walkway which encircled the main lobby, and laid prone on the floor, pistol steadied against a railing post as she aimed squarely at the same entrance she had fled through.

"Where are ya hiding?" the raider demanded, "c'mon out. I promise I won't hurt ya… much." The tip of his rifle slid into view, and she held her breath.

The raider stepped through the door, and this time, her aim was true. The bullet blasted through his temple and out the other side, with an ugly wet blaat noise, and he collapsed to the floor; another corpse to lie with the others.

"Fuck…" she swore under her breath and rolled onto her back, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, letting the fear and adrenaline wash over her. She waiting, while her pulse slowed form a whine to at least a purr. She despised being shot at. It had been exhilarating the first time – in a showdown with Powder Gangers at Goodsprings, but each time it happened was more terrifying than the last. She cursed herself for her overconfidence. She should have brought Jericho, or Septimus, or the Legion scouts along.

Stupid! Stupid risk! And why had she done it? So that the Centurion would look impressed when she came back with answers? Because she was enjoying being an Immune a little too much? Had she grown overconfident? Lady Luck had already blessed her once – giving her a second lease on life after being shot in the head. That it had happened once was incredible. Jessica knew she couldn't bank on it happening twice.

Septimus had mentioned some of the Wanderers had a healing factor of some kind. Jessica was horribly aware that she didn't. Usanagi's monocyte breeder implant provided a little relief, and indeed had saved her life on occasion, but Jessica knew a well-placed bullet would finish her off easily. It was one of the many reasons she preferred to talk her way through problems.

She sat up and reloaded her pistol with a fresh magazine. The two raiders had been huddled up at the alcove… but what had they been working on?

An elevator, as it turned out… they had pulled the repair access panel off the wall, leaving the unit's guts exposed. It was a promising thing that they had obviously not gotten it working yet. That pretty much guaranteed a lack of raider activity on the Hotel's upper levels.

Keeping her ear cocked for any other visitors, Jessica crouched in front of it and gave it a thorough examination it was a simple system: electrical switches connecting through a series of relays to actuate the motor which ran the pulleys for the elevator and counterweight.

If the lights were on, then the building had power. If the building had power, then the elevator likely had power. Jessica was willing to bet it just needed a boost. She set about hunting through the various rooms in the foyer and the maze beyond, scooping up the raider's hunting rifle and ammunition as she passed by his corpse.

Everything always seemed to come down to blind luck, and her prayers were answered when she found a fission battery in a storeroom on the main floor. She hooked it up to the elevator's control panel and was rewarded with a pleasant ding. The elevator door slid open and she stepped inside. She pressed the button for the top floor, and felt the flimsy metal box shift and rumble and groan in protest as the ancient pre-war mechanism carried it once again to the top of the building. It opened out onto the hotel roof. A pleasant space with a lovely elevated rooftop garden restaurant.

Jessica kept the hunting rifle close as she skirted around the edge of the roof and peered over the side, looking down at the hospital, she was standing directly over the raider's defense. A team with hunting rifles could probably do a lot of damage. Even better, there was direct access across the fallen radio tower into the raider stronghold. The Legion didn't have to attack straight on: they could come from above.

Finally some action! I have to say it's great to have a character who is actually vulnerable. Really lets me raise the stakes on smaller fights instead of having to go for bombast all the time.