ROBCO EVENT LOG V2.66
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Jackson Corvalis Manufacturing Unit 6602 cut an imposing shadow into the wastelands of California. . The average pre-war auto factory was large in it's own right, but this facility was clearly constructed with an entirely different scale in mind. Tall, thick blocks of cement, brick, and steel composed the bulk of the structure's supporting walls, and the presence of windows was largely absent, with exception to several large, vacant rectangular frames on the second floor who's crystals had long since been shattered. The front-most portion of the building's second floor was now a charred, crumbling mess of rubble and rebar in the wake of the Vertibird wreck, and the debris from the vessel had plummeted through the floor and into the entryway. That rubble-filled entrance has since been thoroughly blocked off and reinforced with scrap and wreckage from the crash in preparation for the coming battle. The lands surrounding the place were a hilly, soil and rubble laden wasteland. Gone were the dusty desert sands of the Mojave-- In it's place was the crunch of irradiated dirt from the Sierra Nevada.
It had been three long days since the arrival of Jackson's initial group of volunteers. Though the deputy had originally expected to find an unoccupied factory, he was distinctly irritated at the unexpected intervention of an Enclave scout patrol moments after their arrival. The battle that ensued was brief, but intense. Between the efforts of Ashur the monster, Yah, the silent one-eyed swordsman, and Jackson himself, they managed to repel the patriots' initial incursion, but at great cost. Their troopers were silenced by sword and shotgun, their vertibird toppled by the brutality of Mars-- but a lone shock trooper had vanished into the horizon atop a burst of nuclear flame from his jet module, and made a great escape before he could be silenced. It was a quick, flawlessly executed attack. Unfortunately, with the disappearance of the shock trooper, Enclave reinforcements were guerenteed.
So the plan of action had been modified. Where originally the small group was intent upon gutting and securing the facility before their enemy's arrival, they were now destined to defend it outright against what would likely be a superior enemy force. Fortunately for those that remained on the California border, the deputy wasn't content to lay their lives on the line by himself. They needed more numbers, more hardware, more expertise. Their enemy wanted--no, NEEDED this facility to make their goals a reality. If he was going to die in this place, Jackson would be damned if he didn't make sure that their efforts wouldn't be for nought. So he prepared the best he could with the resources he had at his disposal. Thankfully, those resources included an entire factory's worth of pre-war goodies that could be used to harass their aggressors.
Jackson First, Jack linked up his Pip-Boy's radio with an on-site antenna, fired up the factory's back-up generators, and managed to squeeze out enough power to send an urgent request for reinforcements back to the Federation. Then, he, with assistance from the others, did what he could to barricade the path which remained amongst the wreckage of the front entrance. Afterward, they gathered all of what they thought could be a useful asset in the coming battle against the Enclave bucket-jockies. Industrial-grade energy cells, fusion torches, spent fuel rods from the factory's on-site reactor, sheets of steel, a hell of a lot of flammable paint and grease, among other odds and ends. Incomplete automotive frames, doors, and hubcaps were purposefully welded together, jury-rigged into noise-making traps, and served as an interior defensive wall which would protect the facility's denizens from their aggressors. Jack's plan might have been a bit excessive-- it was certainly reminiscent of paranoid schizophrenia. But he had a feeling that the Enclave didn't take too kindly to losing one of their valuable Vertibirds. They would come in force, and they would come with all that they had to offer. This factory was to be their castle. Complete with a gate filled with shattered stone, and high walls of foot-thick cement and steel.
It was a fine place to die.
Jackson himself had spent th ebetter part of their three day hiatus working his hands to the bone. Repairing damaged terminals, tinkering with the on-site generators, jury-rigging energy cells for detonation, and assisting the others in fortifying the entrances. All the while, he attempted in vain to gain access to the factory's supposed sub-level to no avail. The terminal responsible for granting access to that particular level of the facility was layered in about 70 different sorts of encryption that the deputy couldn't even begin to understand. If he wanted to gain access, he'd have to physically dismantle the damnded device in order to remove it's encryption modules and re-route circuitry, and he just didn't have the time to do that right now. Their situation was too dire-- they were in unfamiliar territory, surrounded by valuable pre-war tech, and they needed to use it to their advantage. So he did his best to assemble traps around likely landing areas, rig the doors to detonate if breached from the outside through use of micro-fusion cells, and gathered a hell of a lot of flammable chemicals into a mixed set of storage barrels, which he lined the perimeter with in preparation for the potential armored threat on the horizon. In short? It had been a busy few days. He did his best to direct his compatriots with mixed results. Overall, they were mostly left to their own devices within the factory whilst the deputy prepared. Though the moments trickled by slowly, in time, they had been preparing and holding out in the facility for nearly three days. The sun was dipping down toward the California horizon, and in mere moments, they would be enveloped by the cloak of darkness once again. At the moment, the group had gathered in the factory's main floor, which was a mish-mash of conveyer belts, assembly lines, inactive machinery, and spare parts. The deputy was currently tinkering with one of the many terminals on the factory floor, doing his best to flip it's power out of reserves and open up more functions that he could put to use in the facility. As he did so, he spoke to his fellows.
"I'm beginning to think that reinforcements aren't coming. Hell, I'm starting to doubt that the Enclave is even coming back. I figured they'd be more pissed off about the loss of a whirley-bird, but.. Apparently, they could give a shit less."
Saint Saint had gotten the distress call a few days back. It'd been a convenient excuse to slip out of town and back into the fray--after a long couple of days spent running minor errands for her father. Boring. Defending a factory from the enclave? Much more fun. As a lover of reckless behavior, the dark haired girl had thrown on her gear and went searching. It had taken her a little longer than she'd have liked to find the building and get inside but then again, the deputy hadn't thought it entirely through. Now she was perched on the edge of a large piece of pre-war tech, back leant against the wall. "Maybe they got lost." Saint jokes, the tension of waiting evident in her lithe frame. "Or they're hoping we got bored."
Yah For his part, Yah has spent the last several days quietly working away at the fortifications while the more technical work is left to the others. Outside of necessary communication, he mostly kept to himself, disappearing for an hour or two here and there. The evenings find him even more reclusive, off in a quiet corner, huffing small amounts of mixed powders or shooting something produced from within the folds of his outer garments. Often, after these events, he would open up a little, attempting small talk with one of the others; these moods quickly pass, and he drifts back into solitude, quietly waiting for the hammer to drop through the wrecked ceiling of the factory.
Doc     Doc heard Jackson's distress call. Usually, he wouldn't care, but with as much as Jackson had done for him, he felt it was time to return the favor. Moving on foot would take some time, but he would make the trek through all the most highly irradiated areas. He arrives in time to see all the fortifications going up. He's not entirely sure how this is going to go down, but at least he's got things to his name to help him not die. "Jackson!" he calls out. "Come out here and let me irradiate you with a hug!"
Esscast esscast had trecked the way there upon hearing the distress call upon arrivle he would have been tired and cranky if his suit didnt do most of the work "i heard you signal and thought you could use the extra firepower"
Ashur Ashur aided in the barricading of various entrances, leveraging his immense strength to pile the rubble upon doorways, to create fortifications of concrete and rebar and steel for cover, to shape the pathway of the shattered gate and funnel all ground forces certain directions; but there is a certain leisure to the acts, as if it is sport or exercise more than a life-or-death struggle. Indeed, the man does most of the work outside his power armor, despite its augmented musculature being ideal for the labor -- opting instead to share the salt of his brow, bronze flesh glistening in the hot sun, slaving away as some common mason.

When he got bored of that, he took to standing atop one of the massive walls, giving him a commanding view of the vertibird he'd crashed into the facility, and the sand-baked wastes south. He stands there like a flag o'er the gate.
Katherine Caine When Jackson Parkes call had reached El Dorado, it had been an unlikely response that had been gathered of mostly volunteers without any heavy assets that could afford to be lost. Given the distance and the fact that there was days travel, the assembled group of Militia Volunteers and Samaritans under Katherine Caine had been prepared for the worst upon arrival.

What Katherine had not expected to find was the Samaritans still holding the car manufacturing plant as a group of roughly 2 dozen Outriders along with a single pulled wagon with items like Power Armor, Ammo and Heavy Weapons for members of the group that had travelled this far.

Noting the familiar face of Ashur she nodded to the Ex-Legion soldier, but said nothing to the man as she approached Jackson and flashed him an easy smile, "Reinforcements all the way from El Dorado as requested. I hope you've got a good plan and endgame for all of this. There's no more help coming."
Vera Vera and Sora had come in with Katherine. What being part of the militia and all that. Things had been so quiet back in Ed, it was good to get out and see what else was going on in the world. Sides who knows what they might find out here...maybe a boat, maybe a box...a box could have anything inside of it....even a boat. The duo take note of the set up already present..."Well, not as bad as the Alamo...so I think there might be a chance."
Rexus Rexus arrives with the other Miltia, of course. He's walking in his regular uniform.. his armor and weapons on the cart, saves on power. He doesn't have much to say, keeping behind Katherine. Hands are on his hips as he surveys the factory... that tactical eye already calculating fields of fire and ranges... gauging defenses and routes of attack.
Jackson "God only knows. I'm just happy tos ee at least one person made it out here. I was starting to think we were stuck out here by ourselves." Jack's response to Saint was nonchalant, and wasn't exactly a great reflection of the stress he had on his shoulders. He was about to continue his efforts on the terminal he'd been appraising, when suddenly, he heard a familiar, raspy man's voice echoing through the factory, demanding a hug. To his credit, he didn't get TOO excited, but the mirth which he experienced was definitely visible through his body language as he abandoned his efforts with the pre-war tech. He signalled Saint and Yah to follow him outside, and hastily rushed toward the building's nearest exit on the southern-most wall. It was the only one that wasn't completely rigged to explode, after all. When he rushed out to embrace his glowing-eyed friend, he squeezed the radioactive bastard tight, then swung his vision around the rest of the exterior as he spoke.
"Ash, I can't tell you how good it is to-- Holy shit." His astonished tone was a direct result of the veritable army that had been waiting outside for him. It seemed as though the group had finally arrived in force, and the reinforcements were anything but light in terms of equipment. He turned back to Doc for a brief moment as he appraised the crowd, then let out a slight sigh of nervous relief.
"Look, I'll catch up in a minute, but I've gotta.. Deal with all this." With that, he turned to the next of the gathered group, which was the hulking, power-armor clad form of Esscast. He approached the man with a hardy slap on the back of his armored plates, and shined a pearly toothed smile at the man with a nod of thanks.
"Glad to have you here. Every last man is appreciated." Then, after giving the imposing visage of Ashur a brief glance, he turned his attention to none other than Katherine Caine herself. He approached the woman with all of the dignity he could muster, and after reaching her, flashed the woman another white-toothed grin of relief as he saluted her sharply.
"The assistance is greatly appreciated, ma'am. Unfortunately, I have the sneaking suspicion we're going to need it. If you don't mind gatherin' the troops you brought near the south wall, it'd be greatly appreciated. I'll bring everyone up to speed there. Now, if you could kindly excuse me." With that said, he approached the rest of the gathered volunteers, directing them all toward the southern-most portion of the facility, and after doing so, stood before them all with a stoaic, battle-ready disposition. His stealth armor gleamed in the setting sun, and the wind had stopped entirely as he addressed his reinforcements.
"Alright, everyone. I appreciate the hasty response. I'll keep this quick. The Enclave is on our doorstep, and will be knocking any time now. This factory, as far as I know, contains intelligence and material which is absolutely vital to their interests. For that reason, and that reason alone, we must prevent them from obtaining the contents within. AT ANY. COST. We CANNOT afford to fail. If we do, the first place that they'll be headed with their new pet projects are El Dorado. So, the plan is as follows. First, we--"
Unfortunately for Jackson, his speech was interrupted by the infamous humming woosh of an Enclave Vertibird descending from above at breakneck speeds.
Jackson However, this was no typical Vertibird assault. A trio of the VTOLs descended from the heavens, dropping a gigantic, metal-wrapped vehicle of some sort sixty yards away from them. As they began to scramble, the mysterious vehicle suddenly roared to life, letting out twin-plumes of steam from it's rear before beginning to close the gap toward the factory.
To the untrained eye, it looked like nothing more than a giant, armored pre-war truck that ran on treads rather than wheels. To the knowledgeable, however, they would know that this was none other than a repurposed pre-war M2A2 Sledgehammer Armored battle tank. As if to announce it's power to the gathered masses, it levelled it's main turret toward the southern wall of the factory, and let loose a shell with a deafening boom. The impact tore straight through the cement-coated steel. Shrapnel was sent in every direction, and the troops were sent scrambling for cover. In the aftermath, the Vertibirds landed, and deployed an army of their own-- wielding nothing but the most advanced energy weaponry at the Enclave's disposal.
The battle for the factory had begun.
Katherine Caine "I'll have the men take the equipment to the south wall." Katherine nodded to Jackson before directing half of the soldiers she had brought with her to get setup and prepare to defend the area before mounting Apocalypse and heading off with six riders.

The group was quickly out of sight, and there was no chance they had fled; so it was likely she was preparing to flank the Enclave forces or ambush them in some way.

Miss Kitty as some knew her in El Dorado would not be taking part in the battle directly.
Saint Saint heads after Jackson, watching as everyone arrives and huddles together to form a bigger group. She's quiet for the most part, watching everyone and everything going on with a nervous sort of tension. Ashur gets a quick nod of her head--the only real aknowledgment given--before the lithe girl shoulder her gun and takes a place to wait for the enclave. And they come not too long after, with quite the entrance. Aiming quickly and quietly, she takes a shot.
Yah "Oh man. They saved us from a dusty hillbilly speech." Yah mutters beneath his breath as the two forces begin to move, crossing the space between himself and the tank as quickly as he can. As he moves, he readies one of the improvised grenades, chucking it toward a group of footsoldiers in passing, not even looking to see the explosive results as several troopers are immediately reduced to crawling half-men. As he reaches the tank, he readies another device, shoving it as far down the tank's barrel as he can before turning to hightail it away.
Ashur Ashur stills upon the wall as the forces assemble. The hands of El Dorado, the familiar face of a war-brother, fresh foes and conquests alike -- all linger beneath the white-cloaked behemoth, whose impassive, golden-horned helmet betrays none of the emotion writ upon his hidden face. He waits as the vertibirds release their payloads, watching the troopers assemble. One, two, three, he idly counts, watching them fan out. When the armored vehicle strikes the ground and sends up a great cloud of dirt and dust, he hrmms, flesh tensing for a moment.

The wall shakes with attacks, partially crumbling beneath his feet; he lurches forward on a falling block and rights himself with a brief gout of flame from his jetpack, landing at a dead run upon the earth as he barrels through friend and foe alike. The bull's snarling, snorting stampede is as cruel thunder, arrested only when he slams, with all his terrible weight, into the tread of the tank and delivers a massive haymaker to it, his ballistic fist opening a wound in the armor that he rips off with a howl.

"I'll rip you open," he tells it, voice loud, projected over the din of battle. "And see who's inside."

He doesn't even notice the lasers that strike him, harmlessly deflecting off the clever angles of his ablative armor.
Esscast after seeing ashur take a hit from the second group of troopers he yells "I got you fam" and proceeds to shoot 60 .50 rounds from his heavy assualt weapon
Vera Vera watches as things start to go to hell, almost right after they arrived..."Well son of a bitch, they must have been following us all the way in..." Gunfire starts to erupt all around her, someone tries to dance with a tank..."Now, this is a good day" As she brings up her boom stick, and pulls back on one of the triggers..."Sora, concentrate your fire with mine...lets do a little damage here..." Sora nods, as her laser powers up..and she starts to shoot at the troopers..pretty pretty lights, but thats about it....just as Vera draws back on the second trigger. Both of Vera's shots rip into the troopers....as she cracks open the shotgun, and pops the shells out...she then quickly reaches to her belt, and slips another pair of shells into the gun. "Alright..whose next."
Doc     Doc moves calmly to a terminal and punches some buttons. After hooking up his Pip-Boy to it, he whistles with his freshly synth-fleshed lips, barely a month old. The scripts and programs on his Pip-Boy override the security and Doc soon finds himself in possession of his very own robot army. A smile curls his lips and soon, he erupts in a solo of maniacal laughter. "Go forth, my minions!" he calls out as sentry bots whir to life and protectrons stumble from their charging stations. "Go forth and win the day for your master!" He stands with his arm outstretched as steel feet and treads rumble forth from the building, their lasers blasting at Enclave forces. Once again, his laughter turns maniacal as his legions of death pour forth burning death on his enemies.
Rexus Rexus is not really one for flourish or theatrics. The Captain watches as the rest of the group engages their targets.. charging tanks? That's a paddlin.... the rest seem do be doing alright. He calmly waddles to the front of the group, finding a nice little elevated position to stand. Planting both armored feet, he hefts his miniguns in both arms, leaning forward against the recoil as he opens fire.

     Oh it was a firefight! Streaks of laser and plasmafire arc out from the lone figure, cutting swathes through the ranks of infantry infront of him... suppressing most at least a little... that's a whole lot of dakka. Badass level 1000.
Vault Girl In the middle of the battle one of the craziest sights you had ever seen occured.

Enclave Troopers started screaming and the sound of a minigun blazing in the midst of their ranks could be heard. Standing over ten feet tall was a massive Gorilla with makeshift body armor tearing apart your enemies.

Some of you may have even recognized him from New Mexico, apparently he had been one of those who had heard the call for help and possibly followed the El Dorado Reinforcements all the way here.

WHAT A SWELL GUY!

One of the Vertibird's break's position to try and attack Harambe and it looks bad as bullets hit the ground all around him and ping off of his armor.

Out of nowhere, Harambe had a Fat-Man Launcher but he didn't know how to fire it; so he did the next best thing...

...He threw it at the Vertibird and caused it to explode before roaring triumphantly as he watched the dazzling miniature nuclear fireball in the sky.

The other Vertibird made the mistake of getting too close to the ground and Harambe suddenly leapt on top of it.

The Vertibird flew off in the distance out of control, but the true Hero of El Dorado had done what he could for you all!
Doc     Doc's eyes go wide as the gorilla takes down two vertibirds. He closes his eyes a moment to bask in the glow of the nuke, but that flash is over quickly. Meanwhile, he still has a robot army to command. Nothing is going to keep him from keeping that, he assumes! Not even some plot-contrived reason for losing them!
Jackson As the battle began in earnest, the field surrounding Manufacturing Site 6606 lit up with a cloud of bullets, lasers, and explosives the likes of which this section of the wastelands had never seen. Grenades were tossed, shotguns mowed down troopers, lasers shredded them to bits, and even the tank itself was charged. An entire unit was decimated in the opening salvo from El Dorado's finest, and their allies responded with their finest display of force. A handful of the militia members who'd travelled alongside Katherine were toppled by a combination of laser and grenade fire, and Jackson himself responded to the volleys with a rapid draw of his phaser rifle, followed by repetitive, precise shots downrange toward the unarmored troopers with deadly effectiveness.
As the fire rained down, and the noble Harambe presented himself briefly on the battlefield, the last of the three vertibirds moved to flee. However, in it's last moments, the craft instead chose to land away from the battle to the south. Just as the El Dorado samaritans began to think that the enemy would call a retreat, however, the darkening skies on the horizon lit up as a single, power-armor clad man propelled himself skyward with his jetpack, landing directly on top of the tank with a plasma gatling gun in hand.
"I've had ENOUGH. It's time to show you the true power of the Enclave!" The figure roared, heating up his weapon's barrel and preparing to fire.
Rexus Rexus settles back as the battle continues, things are getting a bit dicey! And then a tank explodes, thank the lord for armor! It doesn't effect him as much as others, frowning as he sees Yah absorb it like a boss.
Benito Benito, up until this point, had actually been sleeping off a serious hangover inside the factory; he'd arrived later than the others, and only then because he'd caught wind of Yah coming and figured he'd back his old boss up. He probably would have slept through the entire attack, if not for the loud explosion of the tank round. Abruptly he jerks upright from where he'd been sleeping in a corner, pulls his hat from over his face and crams it on his head, and hauls ass outside. The man wipes a dirt-smeared hand across his forehead, squints daggers at the sunlight, and stares in consternated awe at the various explosions and carnage going on across the battlefield. He completely fails to notice Yah, since there's a huge cloud of dirt and debris still hovering near where the huge round hit, but he does see the Enclave Leader buzzing around with his jetback and blasting plasma at people he has a vague idea are on his side. The mercenary stumbled forward and lifts his Desert Eagle into the air, hands trembling, and takes two half-assed shots that should probably be guaranteed to miss. "HEY, PUTA! FUCK YOU! GIMME THAT JETPACK!"
Yah     Yahweh still has legs, sort of. The drapery he covers himself with provides scant protection from the tank's cannon blast, he must be wearing an ancient pair of Levi's or something underneath. When he lands back on the ground, he isn't looking so hot. Shakily, in a concussed state, he drags something out of a hidden pocket within those same layers. It vaguely resembles a stimpak, and he shoves it into his stomach, the color rapidly returning to his features. Slowly, he drags himself to his feet, oblivious to the ongoing combat surrounding him, his good eye glazes over. His free hand rises to tug the studded leather patch from over his ruined eye, revealing the solid, balefully gleaming orb underneath, the color somewhere between neon green and nausea. Small fires still dot his frame across the layered outer garments he wears, smoke curling up from his form as both eyes take in what's happening only in his narrowed field of vision. The leader is there, atop the battle tank, he takes all of this in, a split moment while the expedient drugs course their way through his system.

    His eyes bulge, the ruined one looking like it might burst, and he begins racing impossibly across the short distance between himself and the power-armoured man. Despite his injuries, he bounds remarkably up the vehicle to get at the leader - probably furthering the irreparable damage already done to his lower half - sword swinging in a vicious upward-angled slash as he howls his wordless defiance, the weapon curving back in his chem-fueled rage in a second cut, however futile against the towering figure atop the vehicle.
Ashur The ballistic fist crashes into Ashur's chest, driving him back a few yards as his feet dig into the pliant earth. When the gouges in it have been cut long and deep he stills, regains his balance, and stares down the Enclave heavy armor that bathed him in plasma and hate.

"Degenerate," he snarls, crouching; shots fire, and the man's jetpack sparks and sizzles, throwing him off-balance. That is the moment the former Legionnaire lunges, driving his ballistic fist square between the crux of the other man's thighs. The magnetic coils of the gauss machine arc blue and release a thunderclap, a salvo of high-powered ammunition searing the armor like a knife through butter and severing the major veins and arteries of his lower body.

Ashur's punch carries on, and snaps the lower half of his body off, entrails spilling in a bloody mess from the upper torso as all the blood pooled in the lower body arcs up.

"Don't die yet," Ashur coos, catching the in-shock torso before the Enclave trooper loses consciousness. "Look at me. I want you to feel it."

Hefting the armored man's remaining body like a club, Ashur roars, and begins to smash him against the tank again and again and again, until the plates have dented and shattered, the bone and sinew inside have become so much goop, and all the color has faded from the man opened like a child's pinata.

He throws him aside.

He climbs atop the tank.

He hunches over, grabbing the hatch, and rips it open with a shrill keening of metal and a wail of terror from inside.
Doc     The protectrons were shredded by shrapnel from the tank blast. Doc's maniacal laughter turned to a single, wordless shout of rage. His sentries were on the move, but he was furious that half his robot army was so easily dashed. He watched the feeds and, as usual, Ashur was just pwning everyone in sight.

    Doc growled at the Enclave. That tank was about to be punched in the face to death by Ashur, so he just rolled his sentries like a group of defensive linemen at a group of enclave soldiers, then typed a single command as he walked away from the terminal.

    As Ashur smashed the other power armored man into the tank and really fucked both up royally, Doc fires his alien blaster at the tank and hits it dead center. He's quite a good shot with it, but the handgun isn't enough to make it kersplode, though he does feel better as the blue plasma flows through it.

    The exploding sentries give off a firework-like display, causing blood and viscerae to rain down over the carnage caused by Ashur. Doc's mind, however, was in a place of hatred against the tank operator. "Destroy my protectrons," he said, satisfied that his shot had gone through and killed the man inside, even if it hadn't.
Yah With the two metal-clad behemoths going at it atop the battle tank, Yah slips off and begins running as ably as he might toward cover, the chems and some sense of self-preservation guiding the severely wounded man. His eye whirls deliriously about, as he stumbles in the direction of the factory, eventually succumbing to a crawl and finally coming to a pause before his features slacken into unconsciousness.
Benito Watching in still-confuzed amazement as the Enclave Leader is turned into a dismembered pile of gory abstract art by Ashur, Benito decides not to fuck with /that/ guy. He's about to turn his attention to the remaining Enclave soldiers, but that's when Doc's army of suicidal gizmos file into their ranks and tear them to shreds. The Wasteland merc lifts a hand and scratches at his head, then notices that the nearly-destroyed tank is still attempting feebly to shoot at his erstwhile buddies. Glaring at it, he stumbles forward on unsteady legs and lets loose a primordial roar, points his Deagle, and fires. "WOOOoOH!" he screams, ignoring the pounding of his blood in his ears of still-circulating alcohol-induced regret. Immediately, the spot where he shot the behemoth - the exposed fuel tank, courtesy of Ashur - catches on fire as a spark from the plinky little bullet magically draws a line of glowing red closer and closer to the source of big boomie times. "'EY! GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE, HOMBRES!" When the men inside the tank start screaming, either out of fear of Ashur's rage or because they are pathetically aware of their impending doom from fire, Benito snarls. "YEAH! YEAH YOU SUCK IT!" He fires another final shot which does absolutely nothing, but the tank explodes at the same exact instant in a glorious display of pyromaniacal beauty.

"...hell yeah!" Benito yelps. He tosses his hat down on the ground and dances a little jig, then promptly falls on his ass in the dirt.
Benito After a few seconds of sitting there, Benito finally notices Yahweh through the dusty haze. He blinks. "Oye, Wey... what the fuck happened to /you/?"
Jackson The battle ended in equally as dramatic fashion as it began. The shock troopers retreated, taking off in the Vertibird with a humming woosh at the highest possible speed. The troopers, having been left behind, were soon surrounded by Doc's Sentrybots, and consumed by their sudden self detonation of their fusion cores. As if to emphasise the fireworks, the tank soon followed, exploding into a blue, staticky fireball which sent shrapnel, debris, and dust flying in every possible direction. What was once a nearly untouched piece of pre-war real estate had been given the kiss of battle only possibl ein a post nuclear hellscape. An empty field was now a mess of bloody, twisted, dismembered corpses, fragments of laser weaponry, wrecks of Vertibirds, and thousands of pieces of what was formerly an Enclave tank. Now that the wasteland had been properly christened, it was time to attempt the real goal of this mission. Gut this facility of all useable material, intelligence, and weaponry, so the Enclave couldn't get it's hands on it. And maybe, just maybe, they'd put the nuclear surprise on standby in case they tried to come back later.