It was a hell of a bloody fight... My three allies were odd sorts, totally mismatched and individually outgunned. One was a tribal with a bone through his nose, he had a sub-machine gun that he always fired on full auto regardless of the circumstance. Rat bites him? Go full auto. Allies in the way of target? Go full auto. Hopelessly out matched by mutant chameleons with razor sharp teeth and talons? Go. Full. Auto. The middle man (bought from slavers) was a fat trader-slash-repairman who whined incessantly if he got a shot even a little. He used a sniper rifle but had the unusual tendency to run up to point blank range before firing, usually forcing him into a situation that was way over his bald head. The last was an aging gunslinger/barkeep with a heart condition who used the fourth wall as his own personal crutch. Despite being grey headed, plagued by chest pains, and occasionally crotchety as all, he was a damn fine shot with the automatic shotgun that I'd managed to scrounge up for him. That left myself; powered armored, grave-robbing, champion of the wasteland, and a part time gigolo who happened to be carrying enough advanced weaponry to put a dozen new craters in the moon.
The enemy? Eight robed Scientology wannabes armed with everything from caseless assault rifles to plasma grenades, though their greatest weapon by far was the irritatingly peppy slogans they kept spouting during battle. Four guards armed with FN Fal assault rifles and decked out in full body armor were also stationed in the room, with another four out in the hall who, of course, were nosy bastards and wanted to investigate the sound of a prolonged gun battle in the lunch room. Then there was the leader of Scientology wannabes... I honestly never got his name before I started shooting, everyone just kept referring to him as AHS-9. Topping it off was a pair of porn stars who were advertising the "Hubology" to the wannabes.
To roll that back,
A Power armored wastelander with a penchant for buggering
A Tribal with no concept of friendly fire
A Fat man with a sniper rifle that he used like a melee weapon
And an old, sickly barman with an automatic shotgun
Vs.
8 Armed Hubologists (Scientologists)
4+4 Armed and Armored guards
1 Leader of the Hubologists
And 2 porn stars
We were outnumbered worse than four-to-one, but we gave them hell. The pornstars went down first (Entendre...), cut down by my own assault fire. The Hubologists, despite being heavily armed, had no clue how to use their weapons. Two of them attempted to throw grenades, succeeding only in killing one of their own and heavily injuring another in the first volley. They were eventually gunned down by the Tribal and the Barman, caught in a crossfire of automatic weapons. The security guards were trouble, wearing body armor and actually having a decent knowledge of how to use their own weapons. They went down to a series of precisely aimed shots from my gauss rifle, striking at their unarmored eyes when possible.
The leader of the Hubologists died like a pansy. He attempted to flee the scene but accidentally ended up stepping in front of one of his own trigger happy hall guards, the guard in question promptly removed a chunk of his ribcage and then proceeded to shoot through him.
It was long, gruesome, and I lost count of the number of bodies that got hopelessly mangled by automatic weapons fire. The barman was almost dead, the trader was bitching about a couple of boo-boos, and my leg was shattered, but we were the only ones left standing.
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Topic: How did you last *own*? (Read 1333915 times)