If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And everyone on that battlefield understood the same thing, as the hardest fighting still lay ahead.
The breach in the outer gate should have felt like a turning point.
And in some ways, it was.
The Republic's forces had broken through the strongest exterior defenses of the Vim! Pop Factory.
The Sentinel Tank had smashed open the main entrance.
The Humvees continued laying down suppressive fire.
The outer defensive positions had been reduced to twisted metal, shattered concrete, and burning barricades.
By most standards, the assault was progressing well.
But battlefields rarely cared about standards.
And Super Mutants rarely cared about logic.
The deeper the Republic soldiers pushed into the factory grounds, the more resistance they encountered.
Not less.
More.
Every collapsed position seemed to reveal another one behind it.
Every group of mutants they eliminated seemed to be replaced by another group emerging from some ruined warehouse, maintenance tunnel, or collapsed production building.
The Vim! Pop Factory was enormous.
Far larger than it had appeared from scouting reports.
Far larger than it had seemed through binoculars.
Once inside the complex, the true scale became obvious.
Rows of industrial buildings stretched across the property.
Loading yards connected to processing plants.
Storage facilities linked to bottling structures.
Pipelines crossed overhead like metal spiderwebs.
Rust-covered catwalks connected rooftops.
Collapsed machinery created countless places to hide.
Countless places to ambush.
Countless places for Super Mutants to defend.
The battle spread across the factory like wildfire.
Gunfire echoed from every direction.
The sharp crack of Republic rifles mixed with the thunder of heavy machine guns.
Explosions rolled through the complex.
Broken windows shattered.
Metal walls rattled.
Smoke drifted between industrial structures.
The air smelled of rust, oil, gunpowder, blood, and burning machinery.
It was chaos.
Controlled chaos for the Republic.
Pure chaos for everyone else.
And yet somehow the Super Mutants continued holding their ground.
Not because they were organized.
Not because they were brilliant tacticians.
Because they were stubborn.
Terrifyingly stubborn.
One Republic squad cleared a ruined storage yard after nearly ten minutes of fighting.
The soldiers pushed forward cautiously.
Weapons raised.
Eyes scanning every doorway.
Every shadow.
Every piece of debris.
The sergeant leading them finally lowered his rifle slightly.
"I think we're clear."
Then a Super Mutant burst through a wall.
Not a doorway.
Not a window.
A wall.
The giant creature smashed through rotten concrete like it barely existed.
The soldiers immediately opened fire.
The mutant absorbed half a dozen rounds before finally collapsing.
The sergeant stared at the ruined wall.
"Well."
A nearby soldier nodded.
"That wasn't in the training manual."
The sergeant looked at the destroyed concrete.
"It should be."
Elsewhere, the Sentinel Tank continued advancing through the factory grounds.
Slowly.
Methodically.
Like an armored predator.
Its cannon fired whenever significant resistance appeared.
Each shot transformed enemy strongpoints into debris fields.
The tank's machine guns swept rooftops and catwalks.
Super Mutants learned very quickly that standing in the open was a poor life decision.
Most of them ignored that lesson.
The results were predictable.
One particularly aggressive mutant climbed onto a rusted catwalk overlooking the main advance.
The giant raised a missile launcher.
Several soldiers saw him.
The tank crew saw him too.
The mutant managed exactly three words.
"Human metal thing—"
The tank's machine gun interrupted the rest.
The catwalk collapsed moments later.
The soldiers nearby cheered.
The tank crew immediately became insufferably proud over the radio.
Nobody was surprised.
Tank crews everywhere shared certain personality traits.
Meanwhile, the Humvees provided constant support.
Their mounted weapons roared almost continuously.
Gunners tracked targets across rooftops and between factory structures.
Every burst of fire forced mutants into cover.
Or eliminated them entirely.
The vehicles had become mobile strongpoints.
Moving walls of firepower.
Anchors around which infantry squads maneuvered.
The battle line slowly advanced deeper into the factory.
But every yard was earned.
Every building cost effort.
Every position required fighting.
The Super Mutants refused to break.
Even when outgunned.
Even when outmaneuvered.
Even when losing.
A veteran lieutenant crouched behind a stack of rusted industrial containers while rounds snapped overhead.
A younger soldier beside him shook his head.
"Why don't they run?"
The lieutenant fired two rounds toward a distant mutant position.
Then answered.
"Because they're Super Mutants."
The recruit frowned.
"That's not really an explanation."
The lieutenant sighed.
"No."
A pause.
"But it is."
Then he stood and started directing another advance.
Sometimes there really wasn't a better answer.
Near the center of the factory, the fighting intensified.
The Republic forces had reached an old bottling facility.
A massive structure that appeared to have become one of the primary mutant defensive positions.
Broken conveyor systems stretched across multiple levels.
Catwalks crisscrossed the interior.
Mountains of debris created natural barricades.
The mutants had transformed the building into a fortress.
And they were defending it viciously.
Sico arrived near the front just as another firefight erupted.
A squad pinned behind overturned machinery exchanged fire with mutants occupying an elevated platform.
The position was difficult.
The angle favored the defenders.
Advancing openly would be dangerous.
Sico examined the structure.
Then pointed toward an adjacent section of wall.
"Humvee."
The gunner immediately understood.
The vehicle repositioned.
Its mounted weapon opened fire.
Heavy rounds slammed into support beams.
Steel screamed.
Concrete cracked.
The platform collapsed.
Three Super Mutants disappeared beneath falling debris.
The pinned squad immediately surged forward.
Momentum restored.
Another position cleared.
One step at a time.
Always one step at a time.
But the enemy wasn't finished.
Not even close.
Because the Mutant Hounds had become even more aggressive.
As the battle dragged on, more of the creatures emerged from deeper inside the factory.
At first they had attacked in packs.
Now they seemed to attack constantly.
Relentlessly.
As if driven into a frenzy by the fighting.
The creatures darted through debris fields.
Charged from dark corners.
Burst from ruined buildings.
Several soldiers began joking that every shadow now contained teeth.
The joke wasn't entirely inaccurate.
One machine gun team had just established a firing position inside a partially collapsed warehouse.
The gunner adjusted his weapon.
The assistant gunner checked ammunition belts.
Everything seemed normal.
Then a Mutant Hound crashed through a nearby window.
The creature barely touched the ground before both soldiers reacted.
The gunner hit it with the machine gun.
At point-blank range.
The result was decisive.
The assistant gunner stared at the remains.
Then slowly looked at his partner.
"That felt excessive."
The gunner shrugged.
"I was startled."
Neither man felt guilty.
Elsewhere, medics were treating a soldier whose greatest injury appeared to be pride.
A hound had tackled him into a puddle during combat.
The bite missed.
The puddle did not.
His squad would never let him forget it.
The medic wasn't helping.
"You survived heroic combat."
The soldier groaned.
The medic continued.
"Against a puddle."
His squad immediately began laughing again.
Even in the middle of a battle, soldiers somehow found ways to embarrass one another.
The fighting continued.
The Republic forces advanced.
The Super Mutants resisted.
The Mutant Hounds became fiercer.
And then things got worse.
Because apparently the wasteland had decided the battle wasn't complicated enough.
It happened suddenly.
Without warning.
Without any sign.
One moment soldiers were exchanging fire with mutants near an old loading yard.
The next moment somebody screamed.
Not a combat shout.
Not an order.
A surprised scream.
The kind people made when reality suddenly became unreasonable.
Several soldiers turned.
A patch of ground exploded upward.
Dirt flew everywhere.
Rocks scattered.
And something burst out of the earth.
A Mole Rat.
Huge.
Mutated.
Angry.
The creature launched itself directly at a soldier.
The man barely avoided being bitten.
His rifle butt slammed into the creature's head.
Another soldier fired.
The Mole Rat collapsed.
For approximately three seconds everyone thought that was the end of it.
Then another section of ground erupted.
Then another.
Then another.
"Dirt moving!"
"Mole Rats!"
"Oh come on!"
The last shout came from a soldier who sounded personally offended by the situation.
He wasn't alone.
Across the battlefield, mutated rodents suddenly began emerging from underground.
Dozens of them.
The creatures burst through dirt, rubble, and broken pavement.
Some appeared behind Republic positions.
Others emerged directly between soldiers and mutants.
One particularly confused Mole Rat surfaced in the middle of a Super Mutant defensive position.
The mutants seemed just as surprised as everyone else.
The Mole Rat immediately bit one of them.
The resulting argument was brief but memorable.
Within moments, the battlefield had descended into an entirely new level of chaos.
Soldiers fired at mutants.
Mutants fired at soldiers.
Mutant Hounds attacked both.
And Mole Rats erupted from underground wherever they pleased.
A Republic sergeant watched a Mole Rat launch itself at a Mutant Hound.
The two creatures disappeared beneath a pile of debris while fighting.
The sergeant lowered his rifle.
"I have absolutely no idea what's happening anymore."
A nearby corporal nodded.
"Nobody does."
The corporal then shot a charging mutant.
Followed immediately by a charging Mole Rat.
Professional priorities.
The underground attacks created serious problems.
Several soldiers nearly lost their footing when the earth collapsed beneath them.
Supply carriers had to relocate ammunition stockpiles.
Medics suddenly found themselves watching the ground as carefully as the enemy.
The Mole Rats didn't care about battle lines.
They appeared wherever they wanted.
And they attacked whoever happened to be closest.
Sico quickly recognized the danger.
The battlefield was becoming fragmented.
Units risked losing cohesion.
Momentum risked slowing.
And slowing was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
He moved between squads, reestablishing order.
"Stay together!"
The command spread.
"Watch the ground!"
Another.
"Maintain formation!"
The soldiers responded immediately.
Veterans adapted first.
Then newer troops followed their example.
The Republic forces began adjusting.
Creating overlapping fields of fire.
Covering one another.
Preventing the Mole Rats from isolating individual soldiers.
The fighting remained brutal.
But discipline began overcoming chaos.
Again.
Just as it always had.
As evening shadows lengthened across the Vim! Pop Factory, the battlefield became a nightmare of smoke, fire, ruined machinery, mutant corpses, hound carcasses, shattered concrete, and churned earth.
The Republic had pushed deep into the complex.
Far deeper than any previous force.
The Super Mutants had been driven back repeatedly.
Yet they still fought.
The Mutant Hounds had become more vicious.
The Mole Rats had transformed the battlefield itself into a threat.
And through it all, Sico remained at the center of the advance.
Leading.
Directing.
Fighting.
Because the battle wasn't over.
Not even close.
The factory still stood.
The mutants still resisted.
The factory had become a living nightmare.
A real nightmare.
One made of gunfire.
Blood.
Smoke.
Mutants.
And now, apparently, Mole Rats.
Everywhere Sico looked, the battlefield seemed determined to become more complicated.
The Republic soldiers had pushed deep into the Vim! Pop Factory.
Far deeper than any scouting patrol had ever managed.
They had breached the outer defenses.
Destroyed strongpoints.
Driven the Super Mutants back through loading yards, storage buildings, bottling facilities, and maintenance areas.
Yet every gain seemed to come at the cost of another fight.
Another ambush.
Another group of enemies appearing from somewhere nobody had expected.
And now the ground itself had joined the enemy.
A section of broken pavement erupted twenty yards away.
Dirt exploded upward.
A Mole Rat launched itself from beneath the surface and slammed directly into a soldier's legs.
The man crashed backward.
His squadmates reacted instantly.
Three rifles opened fire.
The creature barely managed a second bite before collapsing.
"Ground clear!"
"No, it isn't!" another soldier shouted.
A second Mole Rat burst from the earth behind him.
The soldier nearly jumped out of his armor.
The creature died moments later beneath concentrated rifle fire.
The soldier looked down at the corpse.
Then looked at the ruined pavement.
Then looked at the sky.
"Why?"
Nobody had an answer.
Because the wasteland rarely provided one.
Nearby, a Mutant Hound came charging around a collapsed conveyor system.
The creature barreled directly toward a machine-gun team.
Its jaws snapped.
Its claws tore through dirt and debris.
The gunner fired.
Missed.
Fired again.
Missed again.
The assistant gunner simply pulled out his sidearm and shot the creature directly between the eyes.
The Hound collapsed.
The gunner looked offended.
"You could have warned me."
"You were busy."
"I was engaging the target."
"You were missing the target."
The assistant gunner wasn't wrong.
The argument ended when another Hound appeared.
Both immediately opened fire.
Professional cooperation returned.
At least temporarily.
Across the battlefield, Sico watched another pack of Mutant Hounds emerge from the shadows of a ruined bottling warehouse.
Five.
No.
Seven.
More shapes followed behind them.
The creatures weren't attacking randomly anymore.
That was the dangerous part.
The Super Mutants had started using them.
Using them to break formations.
Using them to force soldiers into cover.
Using them to create openings.
The Hounds would rush forward.
Soldiers would focus on the immediate threat.
Then the Super Mutants would exploit the distraction.
Crude.
Brutal.
Effective.
Too effective.
Sico immediately recognized the pattern.
And he recognized the solution.
The Mole Rats were dangerous.
The Hounds were worse.
The Hounds were allowing the mutants to maintain momentum.
Allowing them to continue holding defensive positions that should have collapsed already.
He climbed onto a chunk of shattered concrete overlooking part of the battlefield.
The radio operator beside him adjusted frequencies.
Static crackled.
Nearby soldiers looked up.
Several officers did the same.
Sico raised his voice.
"Lieutenants!"
Heads turned.
Officers moved closer.
The battlefield noise continued around them.
Gunfire.
Explosions.
Shouting.
But his orders carried.
"We split priorities."
The officers listened carefully.
"Second Platoon."
One lieutenant immediately straightened.
"Sir."
"You take dedicated teams."
The lieutenant nodded.
"Mole Rats?"
"Exactly."
The order spread quickly.
"Form hunting teams."
Sico pointed toward the shattered terrain.
"Those things are disrupting movement."
Another explosion echoed nearby.
Nobody flinched.
Not anymore.
"They keep popping up behind our lines."
He looked directly at the officer.
"I want them dead."
"Understood."
The lieutenant immediately moved off.
Within minutes specialized squads began reorganizing.
Not entire platoons.
Not enough to weaken the main assault.
Just enough soldiers to systematically eliminate the underground threat.
Experienced marksmen.
Combat engineers.
Veterans who adapted quickly.
The kind of soldiers who could shoot something while it was trying to bite them.
An increasingly useful skill.
Nearby, another Mole Rat burst from the earth.
This time it didn't even complete its leap.
A designated hunting squad immediately cut it down.
The soldier who fired looked surprisingly pleased.
"One."
His partner rolled his eyes.
"You aren't keeping score."
"I absolutely am."
The hunt began.
Meanwhile, Sico turned toward the larger problem.
The Mutant Hounds.
Another pack appeared.
Then another.
The creatures seemed endless.
The deeper they pushed into the factory, the more Hounds emerged from ruined warehouses and underground maintenance tunnels.
The Super Mutants were using them like living weapons.
And unlike Mole Rats, the Hounds were predictable.
Predictable enemies could be eliminated.
Sico grabbed the radio handset.
"All units."
The message spread across the battlefield.
The crackling response came immediately.
"Go ahead."
"Receiving."
"Copy."
Sico's voice remained calm.
Firm.
"Hounds become priority targets."
Several officers immediately understood why.
Others needed no explanation.
The battlefield had already provided enough evidence.
"Repeat."
Static hissed.
"Mutant Hounds are priority targets."
A machine gun opened fire somewhere nearby.
The radio crackled again.
"Copy."
"Understood."
"Priority Hounds."
Sico continued.
"The Super Mutants are using them to maintain pressure."
He looked toward another charging pack.
"We break the Hounds."
A brief pause.
"We break their advantage."
That was the key.
The Republic possessed discipline.
Organization.
Training.
The Super Mutants possessed aggression.
Numbers.
And Hounds.
Remove the Hounds and much of the mutant battlefield flexibility disappeared with them.
The order spread rapidly.
Squad leaders repeated it.
Sergeants reinforced it.
Machine gunners adjusted firing priorities.
Marksmen repositioned.
The effect wasn't immediate.
Nothing on a battlefield ever was.
But it started.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The Republic adapted.
Just as it always had.
A squad advancing through a ruined loading bay spotted a group of Super Mutants preparing an ambush.
Normally they would have engaged immediately.
Instead their sergeant pointed elsewhere.
Three Hounds were moving through the debris.
Flanking.
Waiting.
"Take the dogs first."
Rifles cracked.
The first Hound dropped.
The second spun and collapsed.
The third managed two steps before a marksman dropped it.
Only then did the squad engage the Super Mutants.
The ambush failed completely.
A similar scene played out throughout the factory.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The Hounds died first.
The Mutants second.
The pattern began producing results.
Slowly at first.
Then more noticeably.
One Republic machine-gun team had spent the previous hour constantly repositioning due to Hound attacks.
Now?
The gunner systematically eliminated every Hound he spotted.
His firing lane remained secure.
His position remained stable.
His effectiveness doubled.
A sniper occupying a shattered rooftop achieved similar success.
The man had spent much of the battle targeting mutant officers and heavy weapons.
Now he focused almost exclusively on Hounds.
One shot.
One kill.
Another.
Then another.
Within twenty minutes, entire sections of the battlefield became noticeably safer for advancing infantry.
Not safe.
Nothing here was safe.
But safer.
And sometimes that was enough.
The Super Mutants noticed.
Unfortunately for them.
One particularly large mutant emerged from behind a collapsed bottling machine.
The giant pointed toward a dead Hound.
Then another.
Then another.
Its roar echoed across the factory.
The words were mostly incomprehensible.
But the meaning was obvious.
The creature was furious.
A nearby Republic soldier listened.
Then shrugged.
"I think he's upset."
His squad leader nodded.
"Good."
The battle continued.
The Mole Rat hunters became increasingly effective.
Engineers discovered several tunnel entrances beneath collapsed sections of the factory.
Explosives solved the problem.
Permanently.
One combat engineer emerged from a demolition operation looking extremely pleased.
"Tunnel collapsed."
"Good."
"Several Mole Rats inside."
"Excellent."
The engineer grinned.
"I dropped the entire ceiling on them."
Nobody questioned his enthusiasm.
Elsewhere, another hunting team developed a simple strategy.
Whenever the ground started moving, everyone immediately shot it.
The tactic lacked sophistication.
It worked remarkably well.
By late afternoon, Mole Rat attacks began decreasing.
Not disappearing.
But decreasing.
The battlefield slowly became more predictable.
Which meant the Republic could focus on the primary enemy once again.
The Super Mutants.
And now the Super Mutants were beginning to feel pressure.
Real pressure.
Without the Hounds constantly disrupting formations, Republic squads advanced more efficiently.
Communication improved.
Fields of fire stabilized.
Medics moved more freely.
Machine guns operated longer.
Everything became slightly smoother.
Not easy.
Never easy.
But smoother.
A veteran captain noticed it first.
Standing behind a ruined forklift, he watched two squads advance through a maintenance corridor.
No Hounds attacked.
No Mole Rats emerged.
The soldiers moved steadily.
Disciplined.
Professional.
The captain smiled.
"There it is."
A nearby lieutenant looked confused.
"There what is?"
The captain pointed.
"Momentum."
And he was right.
Momentum.
The same thing Sico had been protecting since the battle began.
Momentum.
The thing that won assaults.
The thing that prevented defenders from recovering.
The thing that transformed progress into victory.
The Republic had it again.
Not fully.
Not yet.
But it was returning.
Sico could feel it.
Every report arriving through the radio confirmed it.
"Warehouse Three secured."
"Loading yard clear."
"Enemy falling back from eastern structures."
"Tunnel network partially collapsed."
"Mutant Hound activity decreasing."
Good.
Very good.
Not victory.
But progress.
The kind of progress earned through discipline rather than luck.
Still, the fighting remained brutal.
The factory wasn't surrendering.
The Super Mutants weren't retreating.
Not completely.
As evening approached, resistance concentrated deeper within the industrial complex.
The defenders began falling back toward larger structures.
Toward stronger positions.
Toward the heart of the factory.
They were losing ground.
But they were still fighting.
One enormous mutant stood atop a pile of rubble and roared challenges at advancing soldiers.
The creature carried a massive sledgehammer.
Half a dozen rifle rounds struck it.
Still it came.
Only concentrated machine-gun fire finally dropped the giant.
Even then it fell forward.
Still trying to advance.
The sight left several younger soldiers silent.
One veteran finally spoke.
"That's why nobody likes fighting Super Mutants."
Nobody argued.
Because everyone agreed.
The sun dipped lower.
Long shadows stretched across broken machinery.
Smoke drifted through ruined bottling lines.
The sounds of battle echoed through steel corridors and shattered warehouses.
And at the center of it all stood Sico.
Covered in dust.
Exhausted.
Focused.
Watching his soldiers adapt.
Watching them overcome another obstacle.
Watching them push forward despite everything the factory had thrown at them.
Mutants.
Hounds.
Mole Rats.
Ambushes.
Fortified positions.
None of it had stopped them.
Not yet.
Ahead, deeper within the sprawling industrial complex, the defenses still remained as the surviving Super Mutants were preparing their next stand.
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• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-