“Ronin, front and centre.” Sara dropped the movie references he didn’t really get, going back to his callsign. He left the armour on guard and returned to the so called vault. Finding a scene that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a comic book.

The table glistened, reflecting the battery powered lights. Piled high with gold ingots, twinkling gems, and heaps of finely made jewellery. Just like the barbarian hero would find after vanquishing all the undead monsters.

“They’re gonna want to see some of this, call in a bird.” John did as Sara ordered, hoping in and out of the armour with ease.

“Anubis is bringing Styx and Acheron, sixty minutes.” John made sure to ask for his teammates first. Knowing their predilection for shiny things. Glad to leave his cut to their retirement fund.

He rummaged through the precious items. Of such great value to the, mostly, long dead pre-war people, they locked them behind the foot thick steel door.

Stack after stack of paper money, it’s only worth now kindling, and it didn’t even do that well. The gem stones had a beauty to them. Fine cut edges, blue, red, green. Clear ones that sparkled brighter than the rest. Some set into gold or silver rings, necklaces. Those things princesses wore, now worn by a knight and a scribe as they catalogued paperwork.

They looked nice enough, yet John didn’t think it would be a great boon to the retirement fund after all. Most of it had no practical use, only extra weight and the risk of attracting raiders.

“See those, do you know what they are?” John looked at what Sara pointed to, separate from the rest and thrown in an ammo bag. It looked like jewellery without the gems. Stars, crosses, made from simple iron, bronze and silver, crafted with care. “Medals, pre-war military, army if Jen’s right.”

“I am, they don’t give them out easy.”

“We can compare them to the records, find names, addresses, deployment histories. Plus all the land deeds, this is good stuff.” John felt happy to do something useful, but the real bonus was how much fun Jen and Sara had living out a movie they loved

“The rest of it?” John couldn’t see much value in it, then again he wasn’t exactly an expert.

“We’ll find a use for the gold, most of it anyway,” Sara winked, “Some of the stones can be used in radios.” She switched back to the impression of the singer from the movie as she slid a heavy hold all to him with her foot. “But you got a nice juicy cut kid.” John crouched and unzipped the bag, twitching as unearned knowledge spilled forth from the back of his mind.

It began reeling off details about the ten or so pistols, revolvers, automatics. All different calibres, with boxes of ammo. Including nine millimetre rounds for his hidden pistol. The ones he couldn’t ask for like the seemingly unlimited ammo the Brotherhood provided. Losing access to that was going to be an adjustment.

“Give it here.” John heaved the bag onto the table as Sara threw in handfuls of the gems, jewels, watches. Saving four of the gold ingots till last. “The Brotherhood might not have much use for this stuff, but those wastrels may give you a cap or two.” Getting by without Sara’s well-honed practicality would be an even bigger adjustment.

Styx and Acheron arrived. Clearing the table of every last scrap of paper, every precious item. Taking John’s cut for him, and delivering the intel along with Jen. Who’d forgotten she still had the feminine crown on. And of course no one told her.

Valkyrie came for them, redirected from a cargo run, flying in from the mould factory to take them back to base.

“At least you got to crack one vault John, even if it was a bank vault.” Sara tried to boost his spirits, it didn’t work. Sara could easily tell by the fact she finished eating before he did. “In a few days you’ll have your girl, everything beyond that we can work out.”

“I know, just nervous is all.” Scared would have been more accurate, John knew Sara didn’t want to hear that.

“Don’t be, whatever happens I keep my team safe.” He believed her. The resolute tone, the fixed gaze, it calmed him. At least enough to finish his chilli.

Val flew them back towards the outpost as night began to fall. The heavy crate of alloy, plus one armoured door gunner meant that balancing the twin engine Vertibird took almost half of Val’s skill.

“Echo outpost, Valkyrie. We’ve got an emergency beacon nine clicks south by southwest, responding.”

“Solid copy, good hunting.”

Sara climbed into the cabin kicking free the cargo straps, then secured herself back into the cockpit.

“Ronin, hold tight, this is gonna hurt.” John hated it when Val said that. His view became filled with a nothing but darkening sky as Val rolled the bird. Sending the heavy alloy sliding out, instantly allowing the bird to lurch forward at speed. His view shifted to the ground below as the expert pilot countered the roll, the under armour inflating to keep him from passing out.

“Solid copy, out.” Tempest positioned herself on the door gun behind him, unarmoured and unafraid. “There's a team south of here, following a lead from the factory, they found something else. We got a broken spear. The Sierra unit pulled the warhead but it sent a rad spike that drew a swarm of ghouls, chasing them to a rooftop. We’re on recovery, Keep your eyes open and the barrels spinning, copy?” She had to shout to be heard, even over the comm.

“Broken Spear, solid copy.” John knew the code, the code for a live atomic bomb. He felt relieved the inner armour frame kept his leg from shaking.

They sped towards the twisted outline of the once proud City skyscrapers. Closer than he’d been since his first unconscious trip in a Vertibird. Valkyrie banked sharply, locking the rotors upright. Leaving the sound dampening off so that the Brothers below could hear it sooner. Letting them know help was rolling in.

“Visual, four o’clock low, shit, we don’t have enough ammo for this.”

The bird turned on a cap, rotating John into place, from this height he could see everything. The tall, cylindrical, nuclear missile had fallen from the sky long ago. Smashing through a three storey apartment building, cleaving it in half.

Time and the elements left the rest of the split building in almost as poor a state. Brickwork tumbled away, wooden floors left clinging to the outer wall and little else. It reminded John of something, he couldn’t say what, so he drove the thought out. Helped by the visor systems highlighting the infrared strobe, pulsing from a lower, adjoining rooftop.

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John saw people waving, crowded around a long steel crate, firing into the building with restrained fire. Never a good sign.

Valkyrie locked into a steady orbit, angling John down, giving him a view that filled him with fear. Not for his own life, for those not wearing power armour.

Pouring into the building like water, swarms of meat wrapped skeletons. Angry, vengeful, drawn by the basest animal instinct to radiation, sound and movement. The horde rising along the rebuilt inner stairs, bubbling up and out. Advancing on the barely armed team left dangerously exposed.

Ronin didn’t wait to be told. He flicked the safety catches off, squeezing with his real fingers. Followed instantly by their mechanised counterparts. Spooling the six barrel minigun into life simultaneously projecting a solid stream of white hot lead in front of him. Light pierced the darkness as it tore through rad rotten, reanimated, flesh and bone. Drilling away at the brickwork between windows.

The more sound and light ripped through the air above, the more frantic the swarming horde became below. Screeching, tearing over each other. Running headlong as the horde advanced despite the beam of high velocity projectiles. Their radiation ravaged minds knowing no better.

For every one reduced to pulp, three more rushed forward. Aided by the frequent break in fire provided by the walls and the bursts required to prevent the cooling system from locking the gun down.

“Touchdown in three, two, Now!” The strafing pass bought just enough time. Valkyrie touched the bird down, still half hovering on the once pleasant roof terrace. Now littered with twice dead corpses.

Ronin kept firing, never letting the rotating barrels fall still, cutting down the slowed, yet still advancing, horde.

“Reavers! At your ten!” John didn’t have time to ask, Ronin didn’t care. Stronger, faster, more alert than the rest. A pair of reavers clawed through the horde. Bounding towards him with the overheated minigun slowing, overheated and inoperative.

He tamped down the adrenaline surge, knowing unleashing it now would not help. Sliding the minigun away, he stepped forward while drawing the cut down combat shotgun from his thigh. Gripped tight with a mechanised hand. The fully automatic fire stayed on target far longer than it normally would. Reducing the reavers to the same pulped, red and black matter as the rest of the reanimated wretches.

“Wheels up.” Tempest spoke calmly through the chaos and his comm. He turned from the barely stayed advancing horde, seeing the steel crate containing the atomic warhead stowed. Swapped for the opposite minigun, left for the field scribes to defend themselves.

“Ronin, wheels up, now.” Tempest shouted, rather than use the comm. Preventing anyone monitoring from hearing. “This is the mission, wheels up, that’s a fucking order.” The chain that binds. The Brotherhood law held sacred above all else, pulled him into the Vertibird, as his commander ordered.

The detached minigun made the abandoned field scribes feel better at least. There must be a bird inbound, he knew that. He also knew it wouldn’t get here in time.

As they climbed John realised what the barely standing structure reminded him of. Worn away so much the once strong building, now barely standing, looked little more than scaffolding. John knew scaffolding well from his time in the caves, knew how to make it safe, knew what made it unsafe. He made a choice he could live with.

"Three, two, one."

Ronin picked his moment, stepping from the bird without fear or hesitation. Plummeting through the air and shattering through the remnants of the roof. His hands clawed at the bricks with mechanised fingers. Slowing his fall just enough to push off the wooden floor. Cracking, shattering under the armour's feet.

John bolted forward, breathing steady to keep control. Smashing through the inner walls ahead of him, like a bullet through a paper target. As he’d been trained, Ronin pressed his heels down to bring the armour to a halt. Bouncing off brick just as it shattered outwards. His weight stationary, the floor below cracked open, sending him down to the second floor.

Bolting again, he tore through what few load bearing walls remained and more besides. The unstoppable force of the armour wouldn’t halt even if he wanted to. Even if half of the building wasn’t collapsing in on itself from above, bringing the other half with it.

He half leapt, more fell, to the ground floor. Crushing rotten flesh beneath his metal feet. Triggering the flashbangs as the horde tried to envelop him. Light, sound, and sheer concussive force shocked even the dulled senses of the wretches around him. Driving them from his path as he lurched forward.

Momentum alone split skulls. Heavy feet pulled down the emaciated forms in front of him. Sweeping arms ripped the things from his path.

A burst of minigun fire, loud even in the armour, cut through the solid mass of screeching flesh ahead. He started climbing the reinforced metal stairs the scribes fitted to get the warhead out. Leaving the massing horde writhing below, unaware of what awaited them.

The last walkway lay clear, he made the turn just in time to see the bird dust off, everyone save Tempest aboard. She stood behind the detached minigun as its six barrels spooled round.

John felt the merest hint of the nightmare, dreamlike state beginning to escape. Knowing it wouldn't help, he threw the armour from the line of fire. Managing to stay upright just long enough to feel the three storey building collapse, separating from the section he stood on. The ground around them shook, cracking the street outside asunder, burying the twice dead once and for all.

The rumbling stopped. The towering dust cloud dissipated. The ever present deafening silence returned, this time as a welcome relief.

“Aspirant, remove your helmet.” Paladin Maxwell rarely addressed John by rank, if ever. He engaged the automated process and the mechanised hands removed the helmet, exposing his head to the night air. Letting him breathe deeply.

“Sir, I—” He saw he shouldn’t have spoken first, right after he opened his stupid mouth.

"You disobeyed a direct order…answer me aspirant.”

“Yes sir.”

“You endangered my life, Valkyrie’s life, everyone on the roof. You risked losing a weapon of mass destruction.” The paladin got in his face, somehow, despite not wearing armour. Standing toe to mechanical foot. Angry, holding his gaze, refusing to let him look away.

“I’m sorry sir, I thought—”

“Oh you thought did you. Want to know what I think?”

“No sir.”

“No sir!?”

“I mean yes sir.” Sara grabbed the chest handles on his armour, pulling herself up to get in his face the way Sentinel Grimm did when he really screwed up. He hated that, it felt worse from Sara.

“I think you’re gonna make a shitty wastrel, but one hell of a knight.” She held his head and kissed his cheek, in a way she knew would surprise him. Making him squirm like a younger brother would.

“Get off!” He ejected from the armour, needing to stretch, getting punched in the arm by Sara. More excited than he’d seen her all day.

“You better rest up. First you need to jump the armour down, that…that is going to hurt. And if I know the elder, and I think it’s a fairly safe bet to say I do, we’re walking home.” She handed him a water canteen as John looked at the devastation left in his wake. “That’s usually what he makes me do when I disobey an order.” Sara laughed, punching him in the arm one last time, taking back the water. Not for herself, to slow him down. He’d already figured out they’d be walking all night.

“Shit John, you made a fucking mess!” He looked out over the handful ruins that now lay ruined further still. The building he’d hollowed out from the inside had collapsed to the side. Smashing through the ground, exposing broken sewers. Torn away swathes of blacktop and ripping up the streets below. There, amongst all that carnage, a sliver of something once hidden, now visible.

Undamaged, dark alloy, glinting faintly in the rising moonlight.

He had to be sure, a quick mapping pulse confirmed it. The unmistakable, thick green bar on the screen he’d seen for all those years as an obstacle. Now as an objective, a mission. The first step of which had now been achieved. He pointed, showing Sara the screen with his other arm, knowing she wouldn’t call it in from here.

So after an all too brief rest. Coupled with a bone rattling drop from roof to ground. Slowed only by the last corner of the collapsed building that followed suit on impact. John stood in front of a Vault door, a real one this time.

“Echo Omega, Ronin, how copy?”

“Solid copy Ronin, send it.”

“Victor actual.”