Stampede.
HelioBM
Strange Stranger
- Joined
- May 12, 2021
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I didn't even bother to find out what Claptrap had there in the "brothel" - my psyche, even though damaged by Pandora, is more important for me. I just took out five Pandoran dollars (funny, by the way - here cash and non-cash are essentially the same thing), and...
There was a rumbling sound in the mountain beneath my feet, and the ground shook slightly. I staggered, and from the surprise dropped a banknote, which was immediately picked up by the wind.
- My money! - Claptrap exclaimed, and rushed after me.
At that moment, the sound of gunshots came from the mine's entrance - the classic "rock, hole, four boards" - visible in the distance. I froze, frowning, not sure what to do or which way to run... although, if you don't know what to do, make a turret, as our sergeant Mikhailo Nguyenovich Akmar used to say. You don't know him.
A robot resembling a three-wheeled Claptrap... ah, no, it's a small wagon without one wheel.
- Run, you fools! - he shouted, and then a blob of... something came out of the mine and hit him in the back. Something greenish and bubbly. And caustic.
The robot screamed, lunged forward, tripped over a rock, and toppled over. And then I was in the middle of a battlefield.
All sorts of robots rolled in and out of the buildings. Mostly carts and forklifts of various sizes and models, but there was some kind of flying sphere, something that looked a lot like a vending machine on caterpillars, a creepy doll with a moronic smile on its plastic face, and... uh, a Maliwan coffee maker. In the family underwear.
They were all armed, and immediately opened fire on the wave of enemies rushing out of the mine.
Skags, of various colors and sizes, rushed across the ground in a wave. Over their backs - some on horseback - came a second stream of rakks, and there seemed to be some wings and varkids among them.
...Fu**.
I rushed away, looking for a place to use as cover, or at least a convenient place to defend myself.
- There's no way into the kingdom of heaven through the kingdom of earth, - said a familiar voice nearby. A vacuum cleaner, taking advantage of the fresh renovation, rolled beside me. - The royal palace is a good place to take up defenses.
I nodded. As far as I could see, it's a small bunker with one entrance; it could be a trap, but for keeping defenses against beasts, it's pretty good. Especially if there's a few seconds to set up a turret - the previous one had already been taken down, judging by the sounds behind me... I turned around for a second to make sure.
- Does this happen often? - I asked, starting up the turret in front of the entrance.
- Every calamity has its time; not once has the sinful earth experienced the wrath of heaven, and not once will this happen again until the cup of wrath is full, - the robot said. It doesn't even need a translation...
Grenades, especially rocket-propelled grenades, would have been good for the mass of Pandorian creatures that came from the depths of the mountain. Alas, no one here seemed to have them, but at least the robots had hand grenades. Unfortunately, they were mostly simple explosive grenades, and not particularly powerful. I wish there was one singularity here... But alas.
All this stampede hasn't paid much attention to us so far, focusing on the iron defenders of the city, but some of the missiles have been making runs; the turret shot down those kamikazes, but I was getting nervous. Another turret...
- Armed? - I asked the vacuum cleaner.
- If they slap you on the right cheek, turn the left. I'm a peaceful Vladoff vacuum cleaner, how can I be armed? I've already spent my social ration of ammunition for a month, - he said glumly. The thought of sharing ammunition flashed into my mind, but first I need to find out what kind of ammunition, and...
- Oh, boss! It's occupied, actually.
For a second my brain weighed "taking shelter in the bunker with Claptrap" and "engaging in a battle with the stampede in the open". As an experienced adult, though, I didn't have to ponder for long.
Boom!
- Ow! All right, welcome.
- Those who can't shoot, stay out of harm's way, - I announced, and began digitally constructing a barrier. I can't move in process, but no one could shoot...
Despite the temptation of shooting Wave at the mass of beasts, I didn't want to aggro too many of them, so I limited myself to a regular Jacobs shotgun. And fired at the rakks, through the hole in the emerging wall in front of me. Then at the varkid cocoon... At the skag, I mean skags...
More and more of the beasts veered away from the general flow in my direction. And what sucks is that the robots were having a hard time, too. Perhaps I should not have taken shelter, but rather dragged myself out of the "kingdom"...
- Yoo-hoo-hoo! - and then a machine gun rumbled over the ground. Plus the sound of blows and the humming of drill-mace-spear; the "customs officers," aka "gatekeepers," left their post to join the fight. - How long I had waited for this!
The arrival of the reinforcements tilted the situation, which was becoming grim for the robots, in the opposite direction. The wagon's machine gun, though not as powerful as the guns on the perimeter turrets, was still a serious weapon with plenty of ammunition, and the loader with its shield effectively covered his partner. My turrets, it should be noted, were also working quite well.
- Oh, we're winning! - said Claptrap, who looked through the gap.
- Don't get under my arm, and don't be too quick with your statements, - I said as I took aim (my shotgun had been replaced by a machine gun) at the targets heading our way. Minus skag... Minus rakk.
- Come on, what could happen? - said the robot with vigor.
In the next second, several things happened. The loader's leg, which had been hit by a corrosive burp charge, broke and it fell to the ground; an alpha skag jumped onto the carriage and clutched at the machine gun, which consequently stalled.
- Oh, you fool... - I said in sync with the vacuum cleaner, making a savory and sonorous facepalm. Judging by the sound, the robot even repeated my gesture somehow.
- Look at it another way: well, it can't get any worse! - said Claptrap cheerfully.
Immediately a roar was heard, and a new figure flew out of the shaft, where the flow had already stopped. It was three feet tall, with a pair of wings, it was shrouded in fire, which made it hard to see its features, but clearly not disturbing the creature; another "elementally-charged" creature. Standing up on its two hind legs, it stabbed itself in the chest with its four remaining, and then exhaled a multi-meter-long jet of fire.
"BalRog," - the ECHO reported. - "It could always be worse."
If there was one good thing about the situation, it was two things: first, the robots had managed to reduce the number of critters by a lot, and second, both of my turrets were still holding.
Oh, not anymore.
Man, I didn't even say that out loud! But on second thought, one of my turrets stuttered.
Shit. But, it's not over yet... I've started the creation of a new turret. There are still possibilities.
The building, small as it was, shook. Cracks ran down the wall, and then another blow, and the wall, far from matching the strength of the bunker, shattered, punctured by some kind of metal... oh, it was the remains of a robot. "BalRog" picked up a new shell, and I reacted immediately: to stay in the empty box of the "royal palace" essentially no longer made sense when the walls ceased to serve as shelter. I wouldn't have time to build a patch, but I had a second to get out.
A short burst from the machine gun at the BalRog, hopefully causing it to hesitate, and changing weapons to Wave I jumped outside through the hole the throwing robot had made. Discharge the ammo block at the nearest skags, reload... behind me I heard the rumble of a new throw.
From somewhere in the shelters, the surviving robots were still firing sporadic shots; a robot in underpants was running in a panic, dodging skags' shots and spit, and then it was grabbed by a giant rakk and carried into the sky. My surviving turrets were also contributing, but... hmm. Oddly enough, the situation didn't look so hopeless.
Another turret stalled, firing a few bullets into the alpha skag's mouth and saving me a serious problem. Rolling over - the carcass of another skag whizzed past - shot from my knee, shot standing. Reload, shot, grenade throw, shot. The corpses piled up all around were in the way, but - I jerked up a small skag and covered myself with it from the spit of the still alive one, and then threw the carcass.
Some of the skag carcasses formed real barricades; one of them was covering my turret. Unfortunately, this provided the BalRog with a supply of shells; fortunately, it didn't discriminate between dead and alive.
Another plus - the "Threat Level" of the local skags was low, and they died quite easily, so the "Wave" volleys killed several at a time with luck. The main problem was the flaming giant; my armor could withstand a couple of burps of skags or varkid spikes even after the shield was depleted, but its projectiles... So I ran around, trying not to trip, dodging projectiles, and mopping up the minnows.
One more turret stalled, and the robots' fire almost stopped, but there were only a few mobs left.
Bang!
None left at all, I think.
BalRog and I looked at each other. Everything froze for a moment, and then we rushed toward each other.
...No, this wasn't a new case of "For the Stroibat!", no matter how effective the last one had been. I wasn't going to engage this thing in hand-to-hand combat, but luring it into the kill zone of the last turret left in the building was a good idea. Plus it's worth a little closer...
I dodged one of the skag's thrown carcasses, but the clever thing immediately threw a second one at me. I leaned back, trying to miss it above me, but the damn skag turned out to be a male.
...Uh-huh, hit with a dick to the forehead, literally.
Good thing I was wearing a helmet. Even so, I was toppled over on my back.
I shot the rakks - there were still some left, after all - and with another volley managed to knock aside the shell that had been launched at me. The building gave me cover to reload; I peeked out from behind the wall, fired... first blood. Well, or whatever that thing is - at any rate, there's a hit.
Hitting the wall made it crack, but I'd already moved to the side. Reloa...
Fucking hell. Shotgun's out of ammo.
I switched to an assault rifle, and once again used guerrilla tactics to shoot from cover. The houses wouldn't last long, but if I could put a few bullets in enemy, it would not bad already.
...Huh? What happened to BalRog's wings? And why did his name get smaller?
- From above!
Even with the warning, I barely had time to block a wing claw strike with my inexplicably snatched blade.
...It's not "wings." It's a "wing."
"Rog, Threat Level: 12."
Shots rang out in the distance.
- For the motherland! For steel! You won't get through, enemy! - shouted... a vacuum cleaner, by the sound of it.
I fired a few bullets into the wings myself... what a lucky hit. The flying bird fell, almost right on top of me, and I couldn't miss the opportunity. A swinging blow with my blade didn't cut it in two, but left a deep wound and brought it to the ground - where a couple more blows finished it off. Still, flying creatures, even on Pandora, are relatively fragile.
Without wasting a second, I leapt out from behind the building and fired a line at the Bal's and the projectile it had thrown, nearly smearing the vacuum cleaner that had peeked out of the half-destroyed building. My... ally? was firing two small three-barrel rotary machine guns, the caliber of which was something between an assault rifle and a SG.
...Vladoff's peaceful vacuum cleaner, yup.
The gunfire had caused the fire enveloping the Bal to die down, and now I could make out that it was just a large bullywang with a "elemental charge". And also - that his front pair of arms, as thick as the tree he'd covered himself with from the vacuum cleaner's fire, were covered in a sort of layer of stone that the bullets hit, knocking out sparks.
He had no armor on his sides or back, though, which I was quick to take advantage of.
The health bar was noticeably reduced. Despite its troublesome nature, this thing wasn't as tough as I'd feared.
Even the fact that after a couple seconds, the vacuum cleaner stopped firing and retreated into cover was no longer a problem. Yes, the Bal was still strong and dangerous, yes, it was death to relax, but....
I was more dangerous, I wasn't wounded, and I still had a turret.
In the end, Bal managed to wound me in one last suicidal attack. With a swift leap he came close, and nearly knocked the breath out of me, but the shield and armor still cushioned the blow, and a volley to the small head finally finished the monster off. He must have broken a bone or two, but the first aid kit and the physiology of homo recens makes such an injury an unfortunate, unpleasant one, but no more than that.
I'll live.
The population of the "kingdom" was more complicated. Technically, they... technically, that is, and were not alive, but I could not find anyone functioning. Well, except for the vacuum cleaner and the unkillable Claptrap.
Having made sure of that, and having swept the neighborhood, I approached the "survivors".
- Listen... - I turned to the vacuum cleaner. - Thanks for your help and everything, but one question. Where did you get the ammo from?
- Sucked for it, - he said.
There was a rumbling sound in the mountain beneath my feet, and the ground shook slightly. I staggered, and from the surprise dropped a banknote, which was immediately picked up by the wind.
- My money! - Claptrap exclaimed, and rushed after me.
At that moment, the sound of gunshots came from the mine's entrance - the classic "rock, hole, four boards" - visible in the distance. I froze, frowning, not sure what to do or which way to run... although, if you don't know what to do, make a turret, as our sergeant Mikhailo Nguyenovich Akmar used to say. You don't know him.
A robot resembling a three-wheeled Claptrap... ah, no, it's a small wagon without one wheel.
- Run, you fools! - he shouted, and then a blob of... something came out of the mine and hit him in the back. Something greenish and bubbly. And caustic.
The robot screamed, lunged forward, tripped over a rock, and toppled over. And then I was in the middle of a battlefield.
All sorts of robots rolled in and out of the buildings. Mostly carts and forklifts of various sizes and models, but there was some kind of flying sphere, something that looked a lot like a vending machine on caterpillars, a creepy doll with a moronic smile on its plastic face, and... uh, a Maliwan coffee maker. In the family underwear.
They were all armed, and immediately opened fire on the wave of enemies rushing out of the mine.
Skags, of various colors and sizes, rushed across the ground in a wave. Over their backs - some on horseback - came a second stream of rakks, and there seemed to be some wings and varkids among them.
...Fu**.
I rushed away, looking for a place to use as cover, or at least a convenient place to defend myself.
- There's no way into the kingdom of heaven through the kingdom of earth, - said a familiar voice nearby. A vacuum cleaner, taking advantage of the fresh renovation, rolled beside me. - The royal palace is a good place to take up defenses.
I nodded. As far as I could see, it's a small bunker with one entrance; it could be a trap, but for keeping defenses against beasts, it's pretty good. Especially if there's a few seconds to set up a turret - the previous one had already been taken down, judging by the sounds behind me... I turned around for a second to make sure.
- Does this happen often? - I asked, starting up the turret in front of the entrance.
- Every calamity has its time; not once has the sinful earth experienced the wrath of heaven, and not once will this happen again until the cup of wrath is full, - the robot said. It doesn't even need a translation...
Grenades, especially rocket-propelled grenades, would have been good for the mass of Pandorian creatures that came from the depths of the mountain. Alas, no one here seemed to have them, but at least the robots had hand grenades. Unfortunately, they were mostly simple explosive grenades, and not particularly powerful. I wish there was one singularity here... But alas.
All this stampede hasn't paid much attention to us so far, focusing on the iron defenders of the city, but some of the missiles have been making runs; the turret shot down those kamikazes, but I was getting nervous. Another turret...
- Armed? - I asked the vacuum cleaner.
- If they slap you on the right cheek, turn the left. I'm a peaceful Vladoff vacuum cleaner, how can I be armed? I've already spent my social ration of ammunition for a month, - he said glumly. The thought of sharing ammunition flashed into my mind, but first I need to find out what kind of ammunition, and...
- Oh, boss! It's occupied, actually.
For a second my brain weighed "taking shelter in the bunker with Claptrap" and "engaging in a battle with the stampede in the open". As an experienced adult, though, I didn't have to ponder for long.
Boom!
- Ow! All right, welcome.
- Those who can't shoot, stay out of harm's way, - I announced, and began digitally constructing a barrier. I can't move in process, but no one could shoot...
Despite the temptation of shooting Wave at the mass of beasts, I didn't want to aggro too many of them, so I limited myself to a regular Jacobs shotgun. And fired at the rakks, through the hole in the emerging wall in front of me. Then at the varkid cocoon... At the skag, I mean skags...
More and more of the beasts veered away from the general flow in my direction. And what sucks is that the robots were having a hard time, too. Perhaps I should not have taken shelter, but rather dragged myself out of the "kingdom"...
- Yoo-hoo-hoo! - and then a machine gun rumbled over the ground. Plus the sound of blows and the humming of drill-mace-spear; the "customs officers," aka "gatekeepers," left their post to join the fight. - How long I had waited for this!
The arrival of the reinforcements tilted the situation, which was becoming grim for the robots, in the opposite direction. The wagon's machine gun, though not as powerful as the guns on the perimeter turrets, was still a serious weapon with plenty of ammunition, and the loader with its shield effectively covered his partner. My turrets, it should be noted, were also working quite well.
- Oh, we're winning! - said Claptrap, who looked through the gap.
- Don't get under my arm, and don't be too quick with your statements, - I said as I took aim (my shotgun had been replaced by a machine gun) at the targets heading our way. Minus skag... Minus rakk.
- Come on, what could happen? - said the robot with vigor.
In the next second, several things happened. The loader's leg, which had been hit by a corrosive burp charge, broke and it fell to the ground; an alpha skag jumped onto the carriage and clutched at the machine gun, which consequently stalled.
- Oh, you fool... - I said in sync with the vacuum cleaner, making a savory and sonorous facepalm. Judging by the sound, the robot even repeated my gesture somehow.
- Look at it another way: well, it can't get any worse! - said Claptrap cheerfully.
Immediately a roar was heard, and a new figure flew out of the shaft, where the flow had already stopped. It was three feet tall, with a pair of wings, it was shrouded in fire, which made it hard to see its features, but clearly not disturbing the creature; another "elementally-charged" creature. Standing up on its two hind legs, it stabbed itself in the chest with its four remaining, and then exhaled a multi-meter-long jet of fire.
"BalRog," - the ECHO reported. - "It could always be worse."
If there was one good thing about the situation, it was two things: first, the robots had managed to reduce the number of critters by a lot, and second, both of my turrets were still holding.
Oh, not anymore.
Man, I didn't even say that out loud! But on second thought, one of my turrets stuttered.
Shit. But, it's not over yet... I've started the creation of a new turret. There are still possibilities.
The building, small as it was, shook. Cracks ran down the wall, and then another blow, and the wall, far from matching the strength of the bunker, shattered, punctured by some kind of metal... oh, it was the remains of a robot. "BalRog" picked up a new shell, and I reacted immediately: to stay in the empty box of the "royal palace" essentially no longer made sense when the walls ceased to serve as shelter. I wouldn't have time to build a patch, but I had a second to get out.
A short burst from the machine gun at the BalRog, hopefully causing it to hesitate, and changing weapons to Wave I jumped outside through the hole the throwing robot had made. Discharge the ammo block at the nearest skags, reload... behind me I heard the rumble of a new throw.
From somewhere in the shelters, the surviving robots were still firing sporadic shots; a robot in underpants was running in a panic, dodging skags' shots and spit, and then it was grabbed by a giant rakk and carried into the sky. My surviving turrets were also contributing, but... hmm. Oddly enough, the situation didn't look so hopeless.
Another turret stalled, firing a few bullets into the alpha skag's mouth and saving me a serious problem. Rolling over - the carcass of another skag whizzed past - shot from my knee, shot standing. Reload, shot, grenade throw, shot. The corpses piled up all around were in the way, but - I jerked up a small skag and covered myself with it from the spit of the still alive one, and then threw the carcass.
Some of the skag carcasses formed real barricades; one of them was covering my turret. Unfortunately, this provided the BalRog with a supply of shells; fortunately, it didn't discriminate between dead and alive.
Another plus - the "Threat Level" of the local skags was low, and they died quite easily, so the "Wave" volleys killed several at a time with luck. The main problem was the flaming giant; my armor could withstand a couple of burps of skags or varkid spikes even after the shield was depleted, but its projectiles... So I ran around, trying not to trip, dodging projectiles, and mopping up the minnows.
One more turret stalled, and the robots' fire almost stopped, but there were only a few mobs left.
Bang!
None left at all, I think.
BalRog and I looked at each other. Everything froze for a moment, and then we rushed toward each other.
...No, this wasn't a new case of "For the Stroibat!", no matter how effective the last one had been. I wasn't going to engage this thing in hand-to-hand combat, but luring it into the kill zone of the last turret left in the building was a good idea. Plus it's worth a little closer...
I dodged one of the skag's thrown carcasses, but the clever thing immediately threw a second one at me. I leaned back, trying to miss it above me, but the damn skag turned out to be a male.
...Uh-huh, hit with a dick to the forehead, literally.
Good thing I was wearing a helmet. Even so, I was toppled over on my back.
I shot the rakks - there were still some left, after all - and with another volley managed to knock aside the shell that had been launched at me. The building gave me cover to reload; I peeked out from behind the wall, fired... first blood. Well, or whatever that thing is - at any rate, there's a hit.
Hitting the wall made it crack, but I'd already moved to the side. Reloa...
Fucking hell. Shotgun's out of ammo.
I switched to an assault rifle, and once again used guerrilla tactics to shoot from cover. The houses wouldn't last long, but if I could put a few bullets in enemy, it would not bad already.
...Huh? What happened to BalRog's wings? And why did his name get smaller?
- From above!
Even with the warning, I barely had time to block a wing claw strike with my inexplicably snatched blade.
...It's not "wings." It's a "wing."
"Rog, Threat Level: 12."
Shots rang out in the distance.
- For the motherland! For steel! You won't get through, enemy! - shouted... a vacuum cleaner, by the sound of it.
I fired a few bullets into the wings myself... what a lucky hit. The flying bird fell, almost right on top of me, and I couldn't miss the opportunity. A swinging blow with my blade didn't cut it in two, but left a deep wound and brought it to the ground - where a couple more blows finished it off. Still, flying creatures, even on Pandora, are relatively fragile.
Without wasting a second, I leapt out from behind the building and fired a line at the Bal's and the projectile it had thrown, nearly smearing the vacuum cleaner that had peeked out of the half-destroyed building. My... ally? was firing two small three-barrel rotary machine guns, the caliber of which was something between an assault rifle and a SG.
...Vladoff's peaceful vacuum cleaner, yup.
The gunfire had caused the fire enveloping the Bal to die down, and now I could make out that it was just a large bullywang with a "elemental charge". And also - that his front pair of arms, as thick as the tree he'd covered himself with from the vacuum cleaner's fire, were covered in a sort of layer of stone that the bullets hit, knocking out sparks.
He had no armor on his sides or back, though, which I was quick to take advantage of.
The health bar was noticeably reduced. Despite its troublesome nature, this thing wasn't as tough as I'd feared.
Even the fact that after a couple seconds, the vacuum cleaner stopped firing and retreated into cover was no longer a problem. Yes, the Bal was still strong and dangerous, yes, it was death to relax, but....
I was more dangerous, I wasn't wounded, and I still had a turret.
In the end, Bal managed to wound me in one last suicidal attack. With a swift leap he came close, and nearly knocked the breath out of me, but the shield and armor still cushioned the blow, and a volley to the small head finally finished the monster off. He must have broken a bone or two, but the first aid kit and the physiology of homo recens makes such an injury an unfortunate, unpleasant one, but no more than that.
I'll live.
The population of the "kingdom" was more complicated. Technically, they... technically, that is, and were not alive, but I could not find anyone functioning. Well, except for the vacuum cleaner and the unkillable Claptrap.
Having made sure of that, and having swept the neighborhood, I approached the "survivors".
- Listen... - I turned to the vacuum cleaner. - Thanks for your help and everything, but one question. Where did you get the ammo from?
- Sucked for it, - he said.