Defeat of the EnemyMature

"Chris, sneak me in, would you?"

The purple robed man flinched, but his surprise turned to worry as he realized who was underneath the helmet. "Jesus, Tom, what the hell happened to you? And who the fuck is that kid?"

Thomas Ridge's power armor was on its last legs. The nuclear reactor in the back looked as if it was going to explode right then and there. Sparks shot from the creaky joints with every little muscle movement. As for the kid, he wasn't in any better shape. Drenched in blood and open wounds, he was going to be much tougher to fix up than the armor. "No time to explain. This "kid" is Andrew Richardson, Chris. You'd better get him patched up, and fucking quick too."

Chris jumped. He threw off the silly purple robe, took the boy from Ridge's arms and headed for the secret door inside of the shack. Ridge stayed outside. His status as a rebel was incredibly well known among all Enclave ranks. Entering Navarro would be no different than committing suicide. Chris was Ridge's only contact left at Navarro.

Hours earlier, a band of super mutants had ambushed the team. Eight highly trained Enclave soldiers all equipped with the most powerful armors available... incinerated by radioactive savages with gatling lasers. Ridge and the boy were the only survivors. They didn't flee either: Ridge stood his ground until every one of the motherfuckers was a green slab of meat on the desert floor.

Which brings us to Navarro. Around dusk, Chris returned from within the Navarro base. He was dressed in a new robe this time, colored teal. "You're real lucky, Tom, you know that?"

"How so?" the bruised and broken Enclave deserter groaned, leaning against the wall of the abandoned convenience store.

Chris chuckled deviously and stood beside his old friend. "We lost contact with the Rig. No one in Navarro can contact the President regarding his son."

Ridge shrugged. "Not a bad deal. Listen... I want you to do me another favor. I need you to bring the boy back to me, once he's all fixed up."

"What the hell is this about, Tom? Is this about your wife? Andrew Richardson isn't your goddamn puppet, he's the future president of the Enclave, man", Chris sighed.

"And what a shitty president he'll turn out to be, if he adopts his father's ideals."

"You know I can't side with you on that, Tom," Chris chuckled, "I've got myself a pretty sweet deal going on here with the Enclave. Beats scavenging for food in the wastes, that's for sure."

"If you don't bring him to me, Chris... I'll get him myself. I fucking mean it."

Chris gulped. "Hey, uh, listen," Chris stuttered, changing the subject, "I might be getting promoted soon. Sergeant says that if I keep doing my job right, Evan might be stuck out here instead."

Thomas Ridge creakily got up, ready to leave. "Hey, wait-wait-wait," Chris stammered, "You can't go out there with your armor like that. I'll go back and grab you a fresh one, for old times' sake."

"You know I can only wear the custom 47, Chris", Ridge sighed.

"Yeah, and I'm going to go prepare you one right now. So don't fucking leave. Help yourself to anything you find in the store in the meantime."

Before heading inside, Chris turned around to ensure that Ridge wasn't planning on leaving just yet. He was a pain in the ass, but Chris was a very loyal friend at heart. If Ridge ever planned on one day destroying Navarro, he'd have to make absolutely sure that Chris would live. 

The End

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