Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 93: Delta Dune

Before departure from Lex Talionis for the battlefield for No Man's Delta, Clay-Crawler was given permission to select a small accompaniment in what the Elder had granted as 'moral support.' Being a sharp young raider beneath layers of otherwise stupidity, Clay-Crawler was well aware that he was being pampered for favor and manipulation. The Boss-Man wanted something from him, and was taking advantage of his helpful nature, and his bashful hots for the older, larger, bearded man that the raider had been unable to control in his presence.

It was those layers of stupidity that compelled Clay-Crawler to be willingly, and quite happily, manipulated.

For moral support he chose D-Con, MacCready, Cait, Piper, and Curie. He felt that a strong female presence would help ease his anxieties of being under the Brotherhood's thumb. Not just because they were nice to look at. He had also been barred from selecting Hancock, Nick, or Strong due to their race. He wondered if there was a specific word for that.

After waiting a day for the chemical clouds to pass over the distant outpost, they were given clearance to depart. Paladin Svensson was their escorting officer once more. On the flight inbound, he prepped them for insertion in a hotzone, going over the necessary safety procedures for if they came under fire. Classed as civilians in the Brotherhood's eyes, they were not to engage in combat but were to instead seek immediate cover and depend on their protective escort to defend them and guide them to safety.

By the looks on everyone's faces, nobody planned on flopping down behind the Brotherhood when the Dark Bloods came for blood.

On approach to the aquifer, the dried up Delta splayed out in multiple fingers of corroded terrain from the South, as if the aquifer were reaching out for them. Clay-Crawler had heard about the infamous No Man's Delta and it's prized water basin, but had never seen it himself. He leaned out from the vertibird's flank as the air buffeted his cheeks, catching a good view of the landscape. Many clan battles had taken place over possession of the Delta, back when the Red Claws were numerous enough to challenge the Darks in conventional warfare. It was the largest basin of water known across the Bloodlands, with an interconnecting cave system allowing covert transit routes to run the water supply between outposts, ultimately reaching Blood Rock out in the Screaming Craters. If the Brotherhood liberated the aquifer, it would hit the Darks hard in the dickhole.

"From Institute investigator to war reporter. What has my life become...? Anything else you wanna add on the delta's history, Clay?"

The raider peered back at Piper's expectant face beside him, her Brotherhood-issue combat helmet trapping her hair down against the wind. They had all been instructed to wear bulletproof helmets and chest plates for safety measures, but only Piper, D-Con, and Curie had obliged. Clay-Crawler had opted for the chestplate over his harness overalls, however.

"Many Red Claws die here, many years ago in first uprising. Big battle for water. Slaves break free and help Reds from inside basin, break dam and flood out chambers. But not win battle. Darks set loose cherubs."

"Cherubs being the specimens," Piper clarified, jotting down on her notepad.

"A charming name for a creature so grotesque in nature and purpose. I should very much like to study this cherub," Curie commented with a delicate frown.

"I suddenly wish I was wearing a helmet." MacCready lifted his cap to swipe back sweat from his hair. "I don't want one of those things attaching itself to the back of my head and wriggling it's way into my brain."