=Three Days Later=
Case woke up early this morning. He washed his face, looked at his fresh face. He then looked at the clothing that Jacob left for him last night. His own Elite Riot Gear, well, Jacob's Elite Riot Gear. He felt prideful, even seeing it and looking at it. It wasn't his, but it was an honor to use it.
"Elite riot gear," Case whispered to the empty room. "Never thought I'd touch it, let alone wear it."
He pulled on the pressurized underlayer first, the fabric snapping tight against his skin. Then came the chest piece—a masterwork of high-tensile plating and reinforced ceramics. As he buckled the plates, he realized his frame was almost identical to Jacob's; the armor sat perfectly on his shoulders, distributed so well that it felt like a second skin rather than a burden.
He reached for the duster, the heavy, reinforced fabric falling over the armor with a familiar weight. Finally, he picked up the helmet. It was iconic: the gas mask filters, the dark lenses, and the integrated comms array. He slid it on, and with a soft, mechanical hiss, the seals locked into the neck guard.
The HUD flickered to life in a soft amber glow.
Optics: Calibrated.
Sensor Suite: Active.
Night Vision/Thermal: Calibrating.
Vital Signs: Normal
The desert ranger veterans weren't legends for nothing—people said they were untouchable in this gear, and now Case finally understood why. The HUD fed him a stream of data that would have overwhelmed a lesser soldier: wind speed, lens aperture, humidity—every variable a sniper could ever need. With a quick press on his earpiece, the visor even displayed a directional acoustic map, highlighting the source of hostile sounds with a sharp, red pulse.
Truly, this was a spec-ops masterpiece.
He realized now why the NCR Veteran Rangers back in the game were so lethal. It wasn't just their legendary grit; it was this armor. It felt like an extension of his own nervous system.
He checked his loadout one last time. He grabbed a G3 assault rifle as a backup for close encounters, but his primary tool today would be the Anti-Materiel Rifle. It was a heavy, uncompromising beast of a weapon, chambered for .50 caliber rounds that could punch through a concrete bunker or the thick steel plating of a robo-scorpion alike.
Stepping out onto the Sink's balcony, Case looked down at the motorpool sprawling in front of the X-2 antennae. The sight was enough to make any wasteland commander proud. The M60 tank sat at the tip of the spear, its heavy engine idling with a low, earth-shaking rumble. Flanking it were the T-60 power armor troops, their steel frames gleaming in the harsh Big MT sun.
Behind them, the main force was a sea of black: veteran Rangers in riot gear supported by younger recruits in reinforced pre-war combat armor. There were no plate carriers or half-measures here—they were geared for a total war.
The hiss of the balcony door signaled Milla's arrival. She stepped up beside him, wearing the standard Riot Gear she'd borrowed from Amelia. She looked sleek and lethal, clutching a silenced 12.7mm SMG with a custom-modified stock tucked against her shoulder.
"Ready, Case?" she asked, her voice clear through the comms.
Case looked out at the army he had built from the ruins of a forgotten laboratory. The tank's turret rotated slowly toward the Forbidden Zone, and the power-armored troops raised their rifles in a silent salute to the man on the balcony.
"The board is set," Case replied, racking the bolt on his AMR with a heavy clack. "Let's go show Mobius what happens when Science meets the Rangers."
The elevator doors slid open at the ground floor, and the metallic tang of fresh coolant and ozone hit them immediately. Standing there like twin statues of industrial might were Jacob and Amelia, both encased in the massive, reinforced frames of brand-new T-60 power armor.
Jacob stood with his helmet tucked under one massive armored arm, looking at the suit's hydraulic joints with a mix of nostalgia and grim satisfaction. In his other hand, he gripped a Browning .50 Caliber machine gun as if it were a standard-issue sidearm.
"So, the big day, huh? Never thought I'd be inside one of these machines again, kid, being honest with you," Jacob commented, his voice echoing slightly in the staging area. He looked at Case, a rare, genuine smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thanks to you, kid. We've got a fighting chance."
Amelia stood beside him, her silhouette even more imposing in the heavy plating. She had opted for a Gatling Laser, the transparent focusing crystals gleaming under the overhead lights. It was the perfect tool for the "crowd control" Mobius's swarms of smaller robots would require.
"Not the APA I'm used to," Amelia added, referring to the old Enclave Advanced Power Armor, "but a beast nonetheless. I'm ready to ooga some booga."
Amelia then slapped her helmet onto her neck ring, and the suit hissed as it pressurized. The yellow glow of her HUD flickered to life behind the visor. "Let's lead the assault. The road is clear; we've hauled away the trucks and every other piece of scrap obstructing the route. It's a straight shot to the Forbidden Zone."
"Let's get to it, then, we'll be the vanguard, the tank led the way," Jacob said.
The group headed to the staging area, Case and Milla side by side as the ranks formed. The power armor troops stood at the front, weapons leveled and ready to shred anything that threatened the tank. In total, fifteen elite soldiers escorted the steel beast: six giants in T-60 power armor, with the rest comprised of veteran Rangers in their iconic riot gear.
Six other Rangers had already been forward-deployed to clear the path, hauling away rusted trucks and debris so the M60 could move unobstructed, exactly as they had planned. The road was clear now—a straight, lethal shot to the X-42 facility.
Simultaneously, the support robots were deployed to sweep and clear the rest of the Big Mountain. Every sector was being squeezed; it was the largest, most coordinated offensive the crater had ever seen.
Everyone was in position.
They were ready to storm.
"As the current highest ranking of the Mojave Unit of the Desert Rangers, with this, I commence the operation, rangers, move out!"
"HOO-AH!"
Everyone shouted simultanously.
The tank began to move forward, toward the dirt treck. The power armor moved slowly, carving the way. Case and Milla walked with disciplines, looking at the ridge for any sign of hostile lobotomites or roboscorpions.
"Infantry, take the high route, move!" Jacob ordered.
The ranger vets dispersed, including Milla and Case. They took the high ground, using hte concrete pathway and using the ridge to clear the way for the tank. They scouted ahead, even though the ranger has previously clear the way, they should be cautious.
Milla and Case ran side-by-side, dashing toward the waste disintegration platform, they encountered several roboscorpions trying to obstruct them. Case fired a burst from his G3 to take them down.
The tank rolled forward slowly, with the other rangers also clearing hte way. They swooped the big mountain like a vacuum cleaner, sweeping it clean from lobotomites and anything that was in their way.
"Case and Milla in position," Case reported, his voice steady through the comms.
"Copy that," Vance replied, the rumble of the M60's engine vibrating through the radio.
Case deployed the Anti-Materiel Rifle on the platform, resting the heavy barrel on the metal railing to stabilize his view. The world through the high-powered scope was crisp and amber-tinted. He adjusted for the slight mountain breeze, his finger finding the familiar curve of the trigger.
Crack.
The recoil punched into his shoulder—a reminder of the .50 caliber power he was wielding. A Robo-scorpion near the entrance sparked and crumpled as the round shattered its sensor array. He worked the bolt with mechanical precision. One scorpion down. Two. Three. Four. Five. He ejected the spent magazine, slapped in a fresh one, and chambered a round. Six. Every shot was a kill, clearing a path for the column below.
Beside him, Milla held her heavy 12.7mm SMG tight, her eyes scanning the immediate perimeter. She wasn't looking at the distant robots; she was guarding Case against the "human" element. The sudden roar of the tank and the crack of the AMR had drawn them out—Lobotomites, their movements erratic and violent, began emerging from the border areas.
They dealt with the threat methodically. Whenever a Lobotomite scrambled over the rocks toward their perch, Milla would let out a short, suppressed burst from the "Bolter." The heavy 12.7mm rounds made short work of them, stopping the crazed attackers in their tracks before they could get close. It was strange that they were coming from the borders now.
The tank then arrived in front of the big mountain tunnel, with the power-armored troops nearing it, not even firing a single round. It was ready to rain down punishment.
"Jacob here, in position."
"Copy that, Jacob, on my way down."
Case and Milla dashed down from the overlook, joining the tank's staging position just as the other Rangers moved into formation. The veterans lugged a heavy assortment of hardware—missile launchers, AMRs, and grenade launchers.
Reaching the primary gate, Case hooked his Pip-Boy into the terminal interface. He bypassed the security encryption, and a prompt flickered onto his screen: [OPEN BLAST DOORS].
He looked back at the squad, giving a sharp nod. One by one, the Rangers returned the gesture with firm thumbs-up, their grips tightening on their weapons.
The sliding doors groaned, retracting slowly to reveal the darkness of the X-42 hangar. Inside, the silhouette of the Giant Robo-Scorpion loomed, its massive chassis illuminated by arcs of artificial lightning surging down from the ceiling pylons. It was drawing the final charge for its primary weapons.
The M60 didn't hesitate. Vance gunned the engine, and the tank surged forward into the arena. The moment the barrel cleared the threshold and the 105mm cannon had a window to fire, the silence was shattered.
"RANGERS! CHARGE!" Jacob's voice roared over the comms and the external speakers.