Clean Sweep

The following takes place following: Shock and Awe

The Waldonian Special Forces teams are flying in fast and low in high-tech, stealth airships. Rock and roll blares from the speakers as they gear up, adrenaline pumping through the air. Two ships are headed to Waldron, flying around Warwyck Forest and keeping close to the tree line from the north. At the same time, another two aircraft are heading south from Widdlington towards Butterbur, preparing to assault Waldhaven.

Inside the ship known as The Reaper, Major Alistair Hargrove stands at the front of Viper Team. The seven-man squad is ready for the mission. As the airship approaches its drop point, Ace cuts the music and gets serious.

Hargrove: “Two minutes to drop. Gear up. Stay sharp.”

The team checks their weapons before placing their hazmat gear over their heads. Once they’re ready, the airship comes to a hovering halt, the hum of its engines cutting off. The ramp opens, and the team ropes down quickly, hitting the ground silently. They move fast, hugging the tree line as they proceed south and downhill toward the town of Waldron.

Ghost Team deploys further east, closer to the blast zone. Lieutenant Liam Mallory leads the squad. One of the Ghost Team members, Corporal Barrow, immediately pulls out a Geiger counter, scanning the area. The device clicks softly, confirming the radiation levels are safe. Barrow removes his hazmat mask.

Barrow: “Radiation’s clear. We’re good to move.”

Mallory: “Copy that. Keep your eyes peeled. Move quick.”

Both teams continue to move toward Waldron from different angles of attack, careful to avoid detection. As they approach a hill overlooking the town, Ace and his team take cover behind a large boulder. With his binoculars, he surveys the area below.

The town seems largely unaffected by the blast. There’s some structural damage—a few broken windows and shattered rooftops like it’s been hit by a rough storm—but Waldron is still standing, albeit in a state of chaos. Skunkbreed militants are scattered about, running around in all directions like headless chickens, shouting orders and looking utterly disorientated.

Hargrove: “Looks like the blast rattled them good and proper... They’re disorganised. We have the element of surprise.”

Suddenly, a report comes through on the comms from Lt. Mallory.

Mallory: “Charges set. We’re ready to blow the supply depot. It’s at the corner of Main Street. That should cause a good distraction.”

Hargrove: “Copy that. Move out. Keep it quiet. We don’t want to attract attention just yet.”

As Hargrove scans the area further, his sharp eyes catch something unexpected—Waldo, the leader of the Waldclaw insurrection, coming out of the town hall with a woman wearing a wedding dress...

Hargrove: “Command, be advised. Target Waldo spotted. He has a hostage. Looks like the town mayor, Grayson...”

The little goblin is barking orders at a group of Skunkbreed soldiers who are roughly handling the mayor. Her hands bound, she is forced to kneel before Waldo.

Hargrove’s jaw tightens as Waldo squeezes the mayor’s face in his tiny hands, planting a kiss on her lips before patting her head like a pet. Waldo then turns and whistles. A collie dog suddenly runs up from behind the town hall building. It stops and starts jumping up at Waldo. He then mounts the dog and, with a shout, starts riding fast, heading northwest, following the edge of the lake.

Without warning, one of the Skunkbreed soldiers, a large brute, suddenly pulls out a pistol and shoots the mayor in the head.

Hargrove: “They just executed the hostage... Target heading north towards Devlin Manor. Over.”

The voice on the comms crackles back. He sounds distinctly like Glenn Morshower—calm but urgent.

Vigilant: “Copy that, Viper Team. You’re clear to proceed. Take out the militants. Over.”

Hargrove: “Roger that. Viper Team, Ghost Team—move in. Clean the area. It’s go time...”

****

The Viper Team swiftly descends downhill to the northern edge of town, Hargrove taking point while his sharp eyes scan the area. Meanwhile, Ghost Team, led by Lieutenant Mallory, moves northeast through the shadows of the buildings, boots barely audible over the thick underbrush as the team takes positions, weapons ready.

Mallory: “On me. Quiet.”

The soldiers fan out, each selecting their targets with precision. Mallory raises his hand, signalling his team to halt. He spots two Skunkbreed soldiers in an alley near a shop. Completely unaware, the pair is engaged in a grotesque act—one draining fluids from the other’s back with its mouth. Their disturbing behaviour makes them easy targets.

Mallory and Barrow move like shadows, knives drawn. They approach silently, catching the Skunkbreed off guard. Their blades sink into sinewy necks. The skunks try to squawk, but their throats are slit in an instant, silencing them with a wet gurgle.

Suddenly, a third Skunkbreed stumbles around the corner, just out of reach. Before it can raise an alarm, Trooper Draven takes a swift double tap with his suppressed MP5, the muted cracks dropping the Skunkbreed without a sound. Mallory nods in approval, grabbing the body by the collar and dragging it into the alley to conceal it.

Meanwhile, Viper Team nears Main Street. The road appears clear, but Hargrove knows better than to trust an empty street. They move swiftly, dispatching Skunkbreed guards in quiet, methodical takedowns. As they approach the school, Hargrove peers through a broken window. Inside, dozens of hostages sit in the assembly hall, guarded by a few Skunkbreed soldiers.

Hargrove: “Hostages located.”

The soldiers continue, their objective now in sight. But the situation is heating up. At a bar near the town centre, an intoxicated Skunkbreed stumbles out, its FAMAS slung carelessly in its hands. It tries to fire it into the air, but the weapon jams. Turning to inspect the barrel, the Skunkbreed accidentally pulls the trigger and blows its own face off, collapsing in a heap on the street.

The chaos is brief, but not unnoticed. A few more Skunkbreed rush out from a nearby building and spot Ghost Team.

One of them raises a weapon, and a skunk’s shriek pierces the air as they open fire. The others follow suit, but their aim is wild. A firefight erupts, the sound of gunfire filling the air.

Hargrove: “Do it!”

Mallory: “Roger that.”

As the teams hunker down behind cover, exchanging fire with the Skunkbreed, Mallory moves swiftly. Grabbing the detonator, he doesn’t hesitate.

The explosion rips through the air with a deafening boom, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The supply depot erupts in flames, sending a fireball high into the sky. The Skunkbreed on the street scatter in all directions, momentarily disoriented by the blast. The element of surprise is gone, but the fight is far from over.

Viper Team storms the school, breaching the doors with ruthless efficiency. The Skunkbreed scramble to react, but the soldiers are too quick. Precision shots drop the guards one by one, while the hostages duck and cover, terrified but safe for now. The team moves methodically, neutralising the remaining threats with military precision.

Despite losing the element of surprise, the Skunkbreed are no match for the superior training of the Waldonian forces. The militants are sloppy, their shots wild and inaccurate. One by one, they fall—their disorganised resistance crumbling under the disciplined assault.

Minutes later, the fight is over. The streets of Waldron are clear. The Skunkbreed have been eliminated, the hostages freed, and the town is under control. The soldiers, battle-hardened but unshaken, sweep the streets and secure the area.

Hargrove: “Waldron is clear. Civilians are free. No casualties on our end. Send in the cavalry. Over.”

Vigilant: “Viper Team, Ghost Team, this is Vigilant. Bravo Team has secured Waldhaven. No losses. Operation is a success. Outstanding work people... Stand by for extraction...”

****

Half an hour later, President Harris Travers strides to the podium of the briefing room, flanked by Master Devlin and several stern-faced military advisers who stand stiffly behind him. Their expressions are grim—but Travers doesn’t notice.

Travers: "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining me today. I am thrilled to announce that the Waldclaw insurrectionists are no more. Today, under my visionary leadership—and, let’s face it, sheer tactical genius—we liberated Waldhaven and Waldron from the vile grip of Widdle Frunkut and his Skunkbreed horde. And we did it without the loss of a single Waldonian soldier."

He pauses for effect, raising his hands as if expecting applause. The press remains stone-faced.

Travers: "This victory will go down in history as a turning point for Waldonia. And I think we can all agree that my decision to deploy the Clean Sweep warhead was bold, brave, and quite frankly, brilliant. There were naysayers, of course. Crybabies who said I was making a terrible mistake… Some even doubted I’d actually go through with it. Of course, they were doubting out of turn. And, frankly, they look pretty foolish right about now. But that’s okay. Not everyone can operate on Travers’ level. All I ask is that in the future, you trust my judgment—even when your tiny minds can’t comprehend my master plan."

A murmur of disbelief ripples through the press. Travers leans casually on the podium, a smug grin spreading across his face.

Travers: "Through the almighty power of the Clean Sweep, we didn’t just obliterate the Waldclaw fortress and their army—we sent a message to the entire world: Don’t mess with Travers. Remember that. And if anyone out there is still thinking about challenging us… well, you better hope Travers isn’t watching…"

The Waldoverse continues in Fallout