It was indeed raining men.
Hallelujah.
At the speed he was dropping, it was hard for Frank to tell where exactly he hit on the rover. It was somewhere centered, though. He knew that, because the moon buggy flew apart around him as both he and the black powersuit were thrown into a tumble a marginal distance away from their personal goals. FalloutScott tumbled farther because of the way the seat flew out and parts of the buggy were scattered forward-ish. The rocket engine was separated from its fuel source and both of those landed not too far from either of them. Scott's Rage-type spider drones were lighter and flung a bit farther, left and right of Scott's position as the two men got up with enough space in between them to be just inside normal speaking range. Scott looked back at what hit him. The black-with-yellow-highlights Enclave engineer was not pleased.
[Challenge Complete: Demolition Derby.]
Frank had unlocked a challenge perk.
[Carmageddon]Bonus damage to vehicles.
"Ack! Frank Rose, hell an' damnation to all things vehicular! I might've known!"
"You've heard of me?"
Scott rested his sledge on his shoulder.
Aye, I read the reports. Ya think you could leave maybe a wee tricycle intact in the wasteland, laddie?
"I despise tricycles. You learn to ride a bike by falling off it. training wheels are for chumps! Nobody gets through life Scott-free."
Scott tilted his head quizzically.
"Wait, you've heard of ME?"
"?" ("?" Can be phonetically pronounced as "zhwhuh" or some variation thereof)
Frank was confuzzled.
"I've never heard of you."
[Perception]The man had highlights to his armor, like boob and schmuck. This man's were yellow as opposed to Boob's orange, and schmuck's blue.
"Are you affiliated with FalloutBoob and Schmuck perchance?"
"Oh, so ya go out callin' me by name with a proper look at me armor, and ya wonder who I work with! The name's Scotty McLaylen, Fallout Sector's top engineer in the Enclave, ya dafty! Yer Brotherhood's been away from the 'clave so long that you've forgotten simple obvious things!"
"I never mentioned your name. Or if I did it was coincidental. You could be named "And" or "The" it's not my place to judge. My parents gave me the middle name "Danger" after all."
"Should've tried 'Vehicular Homicide' Rose. Seems ta' fit. Whaddya want, with yer fallin'-outta'-the-sky-and-hittin'-mah-ride, then?"
"I interrupted a very important errand regarding a large robot to deal with you, so I'd appreciate it if you'd just comply and I could let you live."
"1: Are you responsible for the lunar robots?"
"1.5: If so, could you kindly shut it down?"
"It's funny ya mention errands, on account of the one I was gettin' to. So, to put simply, laddie: {1} Aye, I did that. {2} Learn ta' count, ya no-account roughneck. And {3}, not really. I didn't design them for shutdown. I designed 'em ta' be hell for whoever found 'em. Guessing that was your lot, after all. Ya really shouldn't ought to poke yer nose where it doesn't belong."
"Our nose belongs everywhere. I left Boob's crotch looking like a used banana peel, do you really want to find out what I'll do to you?"
Frank had never seen a banana peel, but he'd seen them in cartoons.
Frank couldn't tell, but Scott had a very confused look on his face.
"Ya know, I may have a thick accent, lad, but even I'M having trouble with that one. Boob's crotch? Banana peel? What the fuck are you on?
"FalloutBoob. Orange highlighted armor? Speaks some Espanol? Has a massive dent in his crotch in the shape of my knee? Ringing any bells?"
"Oh, BOB!"
Scott shrugged.
"He got better."
"I'll have to fix that."
Frank walked over to one of the robots.
" I do the fixing 'round here."
Scott's robots had apparently taken that as a signal to open fire on Frank with their miniguns. Scott had decided to throw out two more, robots, had picked up the rover's fuel source, and was heading for the rocket.
Frank was annoyed by this. He did a double-leg kick into one of the robots, launching himself at Scott with his spurs.
Frank's flying tackle was met with a hammer which sent him flying. He got sent flying a lot. It was growing irritating.
[Endurance][Toughness 2][Flesh of Tungsten]"Ow."
Frank was rattled, but holding together. He was one of the hardiest people in the wastes. If you were to fire an AM rifle directly at his asshole, he would be slightly aroused.
Frank leaped out of the rubble, and began pogo-ing off the robots, making his way towards Scott.
The drones folded with each impact. They weren't the best armored, sacrificing armor for portability. Their ammo supplies exploded in them as Frank crushed them, making quite the little fireworks display.
However, in this time Scott had backed up with the rocket engine and fuel source configured in a way that couldn't be good for the receiving end. The man had changed the thrust power into fire-shooting power, and thus a high-powered flamethrower unit was fired at the oncoming Frank.
[Tactics]Frank had two plans for this situation. One for each hand.
First up was lefty.
1: [Energy Weapons]*Bang bang bang clickclickclickclick* Frank fired a trio of gauss slugs into the device with the intention of knocking it to the side.
...No such luck. But Frank's right fist would carry the day.
2: [Unarmed]
"HOBOKEN!"
[HEADING=1]Homeless fist![/HEADING]
Frank's plasma fist is made out of spiky plasma pistol parts. Still workable as a trio of plasma pistols. He fired a plasma blast into the interior of the rocket. Past the ignition, where it's full of flammable fuel.
The device detonated in a rather spectacular explosion, flinging Scott and Frank.
They were both smoldering somewhat.
"Oh, so ya do equipment too? How's it that yer suit even works, ya gremlin?"
[Repair]"Take something that works, attach it to something else that works. It's my central design philosophy."
The most prominent example of said philosophy in action was Elder Lyon's rifle. If you force too much heat out of a laser rifle without giving it time to cool down, it would cause problems. Additionally, Laser Rifle electronics were designed to take 1/24th of the cell's charge with each shot. Frank's lazy workaround was to strap two laser rifles together, have both cells charge the laser, and alternate fire between the barrels.
" Aye, and it's not bad at that, but what I don't get is how come you're still alive after making everything explode. Granted, this was just a wee explosion 'ere, but you get what I'm saying."
[Endurance][Toughness 2][Flesh of Tungsten]"I'm the sturdiest asshole in the wasteland."
[Perception]That explosion had drawn some attention. Attention in the form of a vertibird with a brotherhood paintjob.
That was a poor decision, as vehicles blow up when Frank fights. Scott drew a railspike rifle, and shot out the bird's rotors, causing it to crash.
"This is a fight between men, lad. If you let your friends interfere, I'll sic the big man on the Citadel right here an' now. That's a promise."
"Big man?"
"Ah what'd ya THINK the top engineer was coming out here for? To get me suit waxed?"
[Intelligence]"Knowing that, with certainty would require being aware of every event in the wastes. I'm a genius, not omniscient. By the big man do you mean the building robot?"
"Aye, Metal Gear Box. Big marvelous killer robot. I see you've met."
Frank had to stifle a chuckle at the stupidity of that name. He assumed it had gears in it, and they were probably metal, but that was like calling a person a meat popsickle. Technically accurate, but kind of stupid.
"I was heading off to finish the job I started. Like most things, it will be done with a large explosion."
"Which piece of it will you send after the Citadel? The largest one that's no larger than a baby's fist?"
"Oh, so it's an explosion ya be wantin'? I think I can accommodate, Mr. Smarty-Pants. I can't be havin' ya take on me favorite invention without him sayin' so."
Scott patched in his channel on radio and keyed in a start-up system on his suit's wrist-comp. They weren't exceptionally close to the building rubble, but somewhere in there the MGB's start-up sequence had begun. Frank had just been put on a time limit.
Bum bum bum!
