Navarro
Well-known member
Will be updating this less regularly than Eagle And The Bear. Enjoy.
==*==
“When I left Vault 101, I hated myself – I was an exile and a murderer. I hated my father – he had abandoned me for no good reason, caused chaos in the Vault when he left. I hated the world – it had stripped away everything it had ever given me. I felt like my life had ended – in fact, it was yet to begin.”
- Waters of Life: A Memoir – by Col. Liam Walker (Ret.), US Army Rangers
Published 2301 by New Liberty Press (headquartered in Washington, District of Columbia, Columbia Commonwealth, United States of America)
14:00 EST, June 1 2277
The Capital Wasteland
To Liam Walker – who’d lived his entire life under the controlled artificial light of a Vault’s systems – the bright light of the sun was blinding at first. But then he saw it … a jaundiced sky over what looked to be a barren desert, small hardy shrubs and tufts of grass the only plant life that endured. His hands and face were covered in dried blood, as was the security baton in his hand. The blood of Vault 101’s former Overseer, who’d died not ten minutes ago, by his hands.
I was trying … I was trying to keep Amata safe, he thought. And now … and now she’ll never … never.
Never love me. I killed her father.
“Enough self-pity,” he muttered to himself. “I gotta find … some kind of civilisation out here. I gotta find my dad … I gotta give him a piece of my mind for the way he messed up everything.”
But even as he stumbled out of the Vault and out of the small valley in which its blast door was set, he was unbeknownst to him being watched.
--*--
Ainsley was not a sophisticated man. But he had a certain sort of cunning to him, one that had served him well in his chosen profession. The armour he wore was crude – rough sheets of metal and leather patched together patched together. But it did its job well enough for its purpose. Right now, Ainsley was preparing to hit their latest target, looking through the scope on his modded assault rifle.
Guy who sold it to me called it an R-91 or somethin’ like that, he mused. Doesn’t matter what it’s called, after I turned it on him and took all the rest of his stash. Fuckin’ moron got what he had comin’ to him.
The new meat looked fresh – he’d just wandered out of the Vault. And he has a mother-fuckin’ Pip-boy on him too. We take him alive, Paradise Falls is gonna pay me a sweet fortune for him. And if he dies, we can sell his stuff … or even use it for ourselves. I sure could use one of ‘em Pip-boys if the gang gets any larger.
--*--
The first hail of shots missed Walker completely, before he turned round to see the gang of thugs attacking him. They leered like savages as they advanced, firing their N99 pistols, 10mm caliber bullets whizzing past him. They weren’t able to hit the broad side of a barn, but even one shot could disable him … or even kill if it hit the right place. He drew his own pistol and fired off measured, aimed shots, drawing on the old memories of firing a BB gun at radroaches as a kid. First one raider dropped, then another. But their eyes were crazed and their mouths foaming, and they didn’t seem to care about casualties. Finally only their leader was left, his assault rifle dry of ammo.
Walker tried to shoot on him as he approached, only to hear hollow clicks. He reached into one of the pockets of his vault-suit, hastily managing to reload the gun just as-
Barking like a feral dog, the raider leapt up onto Walker and knocked him to the ground, trying to beat him into unconsciousness with the butt of his rifle. Walker struggled to try and get a shot on him with his free hand, knowing that even one good hit would lead to him being knocked unconscious and his fate, whatever it would be. Whether they sold him as a slave or cannibalised him, he didn’t want to find out.
In desperation Walker knocked the criminal backwards with a headbutt, then while he was stunned opened up with his pistol. Three merciless shots rang out into the raider’s head, blood fountaining from the exit wounds. He dropped like a stone, his eyes glazed over in death.
Looking over the dead raiders, Walker spat on them and took the ammo they’d had on them, along with the bottle-caps (17 in total) they’d collected for some reason. He took the R91 assault rifle as well, guessing he might need it in future to sell when he got to Megaton.
==*==
“When I left Vault 101, I hated myself – I was an exile and a murderer. I hated my father – he had abandoned me for no good reason, caused chaos in the Vault when he left. I hated the world – it had stripped away everything it had ever given me. I felt like my life had ended – in fact, it was yet to begin.”
- Waters of Life: A Memoir – by Col. Liam Walker (Ret.), US Army Rangers
Published 2301 by New Liberty Press (headquartered in Washington, District of Columbia, Columbia Commonwealth, United States of America)
14:00 EST, June 1 2277
The Capital Wasteland
To Liam Walker – who’d lived his entire life under the controlled artificial light of a Vault’s systems – the bright light of the sun was blinding at first. But then he saw it … a jaundiced sky over what looked to be a barren desert, small hardy shrubs and tufts of grass the only plant life that endured. His hands and face were covered in dried blood, as was the security baton in his hand. The blood of Vault 101’s former Overseer, who’d died not ten minutes ago, by his hands.
I was trying … I was trying to keep Amata safe, he thought. And now … and now she’ll never … never.
Never love me. I killed her father.
“Enough self-pity,” he muttered to himself. “I gotta find … some kind of civilisation out here. I gotta find my dad … I gotta give him a piece of my mind for the way he messed up everything.”
But even as he stumbled out of the Vault and out of the small valley in which its blast door was set, he was unbeknownst to him being watched.
--*--
Ainsley was not a sophisticated man. But he had a certain sort of cunning to him, one that had served him well in his chosen profession. The armour he wore was crude – rough sheets of metal and leather patched together patched together. But it did its job well enough for its purpose. Right now, Ainsley was preparing to hit their latest target, looking through the scope on his modded assault rifle.
Guy who sold it to me called it an R-91 or somethin’ like that, he mused. Doesn’t matter what it’s called, after I turned it on him and took all the rest of his stash. Fuckin’ moron got what he had comin’ to him.
The new meat looked fresh – he’d just wandered out of the Vault. And he has a mother-fuckin’ Pip-boy on him too. We take him alive, Paradise Falls is gonna pay me a sweet fortune for him. And if he dies, we can sell his stuff … or even use it for ourselves. I sure could use one of ‘em Pip-boys if the gang gets any larger.
--*--
The first hail of shots missed Walker completely, before he turned round to see the gang of thugs attacking him. They leered like savages as they advanced, firing their N99 pistols, 10mm caliber bullets whizzing past him. They weren’t able to hit the broad side of a barn, but even one shot could disable him … or even kill if it hit the right place. He drew his own pistol and fired off measured, aimed shots, drawing on the old memories of firing a BB gun at radroaches as a kid. First one raider dropped, then another. But their eyes were crazed and their mouths foaming, and they didn’t seem to care about casualties. Finally only their leader was left, his assault rifle dry of ammo.
Walker tried to shoot on him as he approached, only to hear hollow clicks. He reached into one of the pockets of his vault-suit, hastily managing to reload the gun just as-
Barking like a feral dog, the raider leapt up onto Walker and knocked him to the ground, trying to beat him into unconsciousness with the butt of his rifle. Walker struggled to try and get a shot on him with his free hand, knowing that even one good hit would lead to him being knocked unconscious and his fate, whatever it would be. Whether they sold him as a slave or cannibalised him, he didn’t want to find out.
In desperation Walker knocked the criminal backwards with a headbutt, then while he was stunned opened up with his pistol. Three merciless shots rang out into the raider’s head, blood fountaining from the exit wounds. He dropped like a stone, his eyes glazed over in death.
Looking over the dead raiders, Walker spat on them and took the ammo they’d had on them, along with the bottle-caps (17 in total) they’d collected for some reason. He took the R91 assault rifle as well, guessing he might need it in future to sell when he got to Megaton.
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