Fallout: Caribbean
14:32 Hours, May 29, 2790 (Military Calendar),Miami, Florida, USA
"Hit the gas! Drive!"
Matt yanked the stick to drive and floored the accelerator, sending their refurbished Corvega shooting down the cracked road. Thanks to the steel behemoth's 800 horsepower, nuclear-fueled reactor power source, the car built up from zero to sixty in a little more than half a second. Matt leveled out at 120 mph - along the cracked and broken roads of what used to be a district in Miami, this was the fastest Matt could safely handle the car.
Jamie, riding shotgun, was booting up a street map on a small, modified computer they had installed on the car's dash while balancing an R91 assault rifle across his lap. "Where are we headed?"
"Away from here." Matt grunted, tight-lipped, as he swerved to avoid a deep fissure in the pulverized asphalt.
Jamie looked over. "Purely genius. Never would've figured that out by myse-"
Matt swung the car around again, sending Jamie crashing into the window. "Sorry. And we need to get out of town."
With a sigh, Jamie righted himself and plotted a course to their hideout. "We need to pick up some supplies first. We'll stop by the hideout and maybe find a place in the city-"
"Miami's way too hot right now. Luna will have men posted everywhere within the next twenty minutes. I'm thinking we grab our gear and find a boat on the docks." Matt cut him off.
"We're running away?"
"Tactical retreat. That damn Cuban has around 300 men on his payroll. With that much muscle and firepower, he'll find us eventually."
"Sounds like we need to make some friends before we come back to take this guy out."
"Exactly."
Matt ditched the car a ways away from their hideout, inside a shelled-out building, and the two of them proceeded on foot. They had to scramble into cover three times along the way as some of Luna's men appeared along the road, searching for them.
Eventually they reached their fortified hole where they had stashed most of their equipment over the years. Trophies from scavenging, payments for contracts, and random equipment from exploring that they had collected and stored.
Jamie pulled two packs from a closet. "Light or heavy?"
"Pack light - we need speed over firepower. Just the essentials."
Jamie opened his personal weapons locker, pretending to cry. "So many beautiful tools - how can I possibly let them go?"
"I know the feeling. But we're not leaving forever - we're just gonna let things cool off a bit, and bring in some of our own muscle next time. We'll come back for it all."
The two of them suited up in their olive-drab Combat Armor, packing only light weapons - assault rifles, sidearms, a laser rifle for Matt, and a Light Machine Gun for Jamie, plus plenty of ammo. They stuffed several duffel bags full of food, clothing, and other non-weaponry equipment, shouldered the gear, and locked the doors behind them. Last, Matt disconnected the power cables they had used to tap into the city's still-running geo-thermal and nuclear energy lines.
"Let's go find a boat."
"It better be a really nice one." Jamie muttered.
They made their way to the docks on foot, not wanting to risk discovery by the Cuban's army of Hunter-killer teams. They found a secluded harbor off from the main bustle of merchants and other people.
Jamie scanned their options. "We've got a really nice militarized speeder over on the left. I vote that one."
"Needs to be bigger."
"A yacht? That's like painting a sign on the bow that says 'shoot me please.' Those things are way too slow."
"Well...
