The General: Reunions

Chapter 17: The Forged and the Slog

"Let's go, bâtards," Mason growled, a Forged woman running towards him with a flamer. Mason thought it felt more like hot air despite the fire hitting him, the flames going around the armor. Grabbing the bottom barrel and nozzle, Mason stopped it from doing any more damage, bending them in two different directions, the heat from the flames heating the metal. The woman was surprised, dropping the flamer and pulling out a tire axe, trying to hit Mason's shoulder. Turning to the side, the axe barely scratched Mason's armor.

"Play nice," Mason responded, grabbing by the throat and wrist, lifting her off her feet. Bending her wrist, he forced her to drop the axe as she began to claw at him, trying to make him let her go.

Punching her in the stomach, her clawing stopped as Mason dropped her, clutching her stomach. Stomping her head into the pavement, Mason stomped three times, putting her out of misery. Grabbing the woman's axe as a man began shooting his pipe rifle, Mason launched it at the man. Embedding the axe in the man's head, it had broken through a helmet, getting stuck there.

"Worse fighters than raider," Mason commented, turning to one hiding in a trailer-like structure connected to the main building. Struggling to pull out her pistol when he looked at her, the woman screamed, backing away from him.

"Go away, fucker!" she screamed, voice quivering.

"No," Mason growled, lifting his leg, pulling out his knife. "Did you leave those farmers alone?"

Stepping closer, the woman fired, a few bouncing off his helmet and chest. Kicking her in the knee, Mason forced her to the ground before grabbing her by the face, lifting her off the ground.

"Join your friends," Mason barked, stabbing her in the stomach. Twisting the blade, Mason pulled it out before dropping her, the woman trying to crawl away.

"You... bastard..." she grunted, leaning against the wall.

"Your boss is next," Mason growled, turning to the front.

Collecting ammunition off the bodies, getting some caps, they left the flamers and armor, the flamers just being dead weight, the armor being worthless.

"Was that necessary, Mason?" Curie asked, walking by the body of the last Forged.

"No. Can't fire a gun right now. Hard to stab the heart if you don't know where. Have to get the blade between ribs. Besides, better to try to prevent raiders from setting up here," Mason said, turning to the building. "Now to take care of these overglorified raiders."

Not sure what he was expecting when he walked in, Mason was surprised by the lack of items and blood. It looked pretty standard, save for a few things here and there. Crouching, Mason snuck down the left path, leading to the back. Running into a Forged, he stopped them from yelling, stabbing his knife into their neck. Looking out, Mason saw they didn't have much of a choice and turned to Heather.

"Time to do this loud and proud," Mason whispered to her.

"Are you sure that is wise, monsieur?" Curie asked. "Surely you don't have to resort to violence."

"Well, these guys are of the shoot first, ask questions later variety," Mason pointed out. "Besides, their raiders with an unhealthy obsession with fire. Nothing too hard." Not giving her time to respond, Mason stood up and yelled, "Cerveaux de flamme!"

Jumping over the railing, Mason ran to the other side, jumping over a rolling conveyor. Slamming into a raider pulling their gun, Mason grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. Mason pulled out his knife and jammed it into his throat, going through a gap in the helmet and armor.

Standing up as he set the body down, Mason staggered forward, something hitting his helmet. Mason saw a raider, combat rifle out, and aimed for Mason. Seeing their friend beside them, Mason growled.