The interior of the gunship felt like being inside the belly of an armored whale. Case felt a momentary surge of claustrophobia—there were no windows to ground him, just the cold, flickering light of the interior cabin and the narrow slits of the pilot's station. It was the first time he had stepped onto an aircraft in what felt like a lifetime, and the experience was scary.
The roar of the twin turbines was a muffled, rhythmic hum, dampened by heavy lead-lined armor plating and airtight seals designed to keep out the radioactive grit of the wasteland.
Unlike the cramped, glass-heavy VB-01 models common in the Commonwealth, this VB-02 was a cavern of military utility. The cabin was surprisingly spacious, lined with six reinforced crash seats along the bulkheads.
In the center of the bay, heavy deck-mounted straps and magnetic clamps stood ready to lock down two fully equipped Power Armor troops, keeping them stable during high-G maneuvers. Case noted that even with the racks, there was enough floor space to fit four men on stretchers.
"Smooth air up here," Markus' voice hummed over the speakers. "The stabilization gyros are holding like a dream. It's like the 'Bird wanted to be back in the sky."
"Don't get cocky," Amelia warned from the pilot seat. "Still, our route should be clear from here, we're going through literal empty desert as of now. I detect no radar pinging us, everything is in the clear, current altitude is 5,000 meters."
Case fumbled with his Pip-Boy, his hands trembling slightly as he plugged the interface cable into the onboard computer. The green glow of the terminal flickered as it synced, plotting a direct, high-speed flight path to the summit of Kingston Peak—the gateway to Big Mountain.
With the route locked in, Case practically lunged for his jump seat, pulling the heavy four-point harness over his chest and clicking it into place with a frantic snap. He tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat. To him, the armored gunship didn't feel like a fortress; it felt like a floating coffin. The lack of windows made it worse—his brain knew they were thousands of feet in the air, but his eyes only saw vibrating metal plates.
"I swear to honest God, I prefer a car... or a tank... than whatever this is," Case managed to choke out, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the armrests.
"Case, relax. This Vertibird is in prime condition, I can guarantee that," Amelia said, her voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. She didn't even look back; she was too busy checking the thermal baffles on the engines.
Then, without warning, the deck tilted violently. Milla initiated a sharp banking maneuver, pulling the gunship forty-five degrees to the left to clear a jagged ridge.
"AWWW—HELL!" Case screamed, the sound echoing through the cabin as his stomach seemed to migrate into his chest.
Up in the pilot's seat, Milla let out a bright, melodic laugh that crackled over the comms. In the back, a heavy rucksack slid across the floor, slamming into a crate of 5.56mm ammo with a loud thud.
"AMELIA!" Case barked, his voice cracking as his stomach did another somersault.
Milla, sitting across from him and looking entirely too comfortable, just laughed. "Case, I never thought you'd be the one with a fear of flying. You're usually the guy charging into the fire."
"Milla, this thing is flying god-awful high, it's powered by a literal nuclear explosion in a box, and the last maintenance was... god knows when!" Case shot back, his chest heaving as he practiced some frantic, ragged box-breathing. "Of course I'm scared! First order of business when we land: I'm ordering the Think Tank to equip this thing with external cameras and VR goggles. I need to see where we're going or I'm never getting back in."
Markus, who had been stoically watching the vibration of the deck plates, leaned over and pointed toward the cockpit bulkhead. "Well, there's a display camera here, Case. Though it's just black-and-white IR on a four-inch screen."
Case squinted at the tiny, flickering monitor near the pilot's stick. It showed a grainy, ghostly image of the jagged peaks passing beneath them—dark grey rocks against a charcoal sky. It didn't help. If anything, seeing the sharp drop-offs in low resolution made the "floating coffin" feeling even worse.
Case squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his brain to conjure anything—anything—that wasn't a three-thousand-foot drop. He thought of the warm, syrupy kick of a Sunset Sarsaparilla on a quiet afternoon. He thought of the steady, unmoving floor of the Sink. He thought of sunny days where the only thing "falling" was the sweat off his brow.
Why now? he cursed internally. He'd survived deathclaws, cazadores, and the literal brains in jars at Big MT, yet here he was, being undone by a little bit of altitude.
Then, the floor dropped.
It wasn't a gentle slide; it was a sudden, stomach-churning plummet as the Vertibird shed altitude like a stone. The g-forces slammed Case into the side of his seat, his harness the only thing keeping him from being a human pinball.
"AMELIA! PLEASE DON'T KILL US!" Case screamed, his voice hitting a frantic, panicked register that he would definitely deny later.
"We're descending, Case! Relax!" Amelia shouted back over the roar of the thrusters, her voice tight with the focus of a pilot threading a needle. "We call this a tactical drop!"
"Tactical drop my arse! Just please, please land the damn thing!" Case shrieked, his face likely pale enough to glow in the dark.
Up front, the rotors tilted with a heavy, mechanical whine, shifting from forward flight to a hover. The violent vibration of the dive transitioned into a heavy, rhythmic thrumming as they leveled out just feet above the landing pad.
With a final, bone-jarring thud, the hydraulic landing struts compressed, and the weight of the VB-02 finally settled onto the solid rock of Big MT. The engines began to whine down, the deafening roar fading into a series of cooling metallic clicks.
"And we land," Amelia announced, her voice filled with the smug satisfaction of a pilot who knew exactly how much she'd rattled her passenger.
Case didn't wait for a ladder. He scrambled out of the side hatch the second the pressure seal hissed open, his boots hitting the solid, beautiful concrete of the X-2 Antennae array. He didn't just stand there; he practically collapsed, pressing his face against the cold, unmoving surface and kissing the grit.
Safe. Solid. Ground. It was terrifying, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it—at least not to himself.
Milla giggled as she climbed down, her gear clinking rhythmically. Above them, the massive rotors slowed, the heavy thwack-thwack fading into a low whistle before finally coming to a dead halt. The silence of the Big Mountain crater rushed back in, broken only by the cooling pings of the Vertibird's armored skin.
Amelia hopped down last, stretching her back until it popped. She looked like she'd just finished a light jog. "I'm going to get some sleep," she said, eyeing the entrance to the Sink. "How about you, Case?"
Case was still on his hands and knees, chest heaving. "Later, Amelia… later," he gasped, his face a sickly shade of pale green.
Milla walked over and gave him a sympathetic, if slightly mocking, pat on the back. "Don't throw up, Case. Just remember, this ain't a truck."
That was the breaking point. The combination of the 45-degree bank, the "tactical drop," and the smell of coolant finally won. Case leaned over and heaved, the air sickness claiming its victory right there on the pristine concrete.
Then, the world didn't just go quiet. Time stopped.
The vomit stayed suspended mid-air in a grotesque arc. The dust kicked up by Milla's boots froze in place. The flickering blue lights of the X-2 Antennae locked into a single, static glow. Case felt his own heart stop its frantic drumming, not out of death, but because the very dimension of 'seconds' had ceased to function.
Name: Case
Level: 5
EXP: 20/12,000
S.P.E.C.I.A.L
Strength: 7
Perception: 4
Endurance: 3→ 4
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 4
Luck: 12
►Energy Weapons: 17
►Guns: 94 → 100
►Explosives: 25
►Melee Weapons: 75
►Unarmed: 60
►Barter: 20
►Speech: 25
►Medicine: 60
►Lockpick: 17
►Repair: 80 → 100
►Science: 40 → 60
►Survival: 50
►Sneak: 60
[Perks]
♦ Ranger Toughness: Years of Desert Ranger training and frontline combat have hardened you beyond normal limits. You gain +30% Damage Resistance against all damage sources. When wearing Ranger-styled armor, you also gain +1 to all S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes.
♦ VATS-BT: You can voluntarily enter a heightened combat focus state by conscious thought.
While active, time slows significantly, allowing precise targeting and movement. Warning: This ability is sustained by breath control.Remaining in V.A.T.S.–BT too long will cause severe fatigue, oxygen deprivation, and possible loss of consciousness.
♦ Wrong Place, Right Time: You have an uncanny habit of being where you shouldn't be—and surviving it. You gain a small bonus to critical chance, and enemy misfires happen slightly more often around you. However, your life will be much more colorful.
♦ Never Again: You react violently to attempts to control or dominate you. Massive combat bonuses when fighting after intimidation, enslavement attempts, or threats. Any chance of intimidating you will backfire catastrophically.
♦ Animal Friend: Now, any animal won't attack you unless provoked. They will also be less likely to attack you back when hunted by you.
♦ 18B - SF Ballistic Mastery: Somehow and somewhat, you cause 20% more damage using any form of ballistic weapon, and this includes any vehicle-mounted weaponries, and you don't even know how and why.
♦ Desert Ranger Grunt: 25% more damage with small arms weaponry, alongside with reduced recoil.
♦ Scared of Height: You feel time faster inside of a Vertibird outside of combat.
"What in the goddamn hell?" Case muttered, still trembling. He looked down at his hands, then back at the puddle of his own misery on the ground. "I get stronger by vomiting?"
The frozen moment shattered. Time snapped back into gear with a sickening pop of displaced air. Milla's giggle finished its cycle, and the dust settled instantly. To his companions, Case had just suffered a standard bout of motion sickness.
.