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Fallout: Vault X

An original novel set in the Fallout universe, written to be accessible to all, featuring unique people and places Fallout: Vault X tells the story of John. A vault dweller, who spent every day of his twenty five years underground. Like his father, and his father before him. Proud to live in the last remaining bastion of humanity, all that survived The Great War of the atomic age. Hidden deep below the surface of the earth, toiling under brutal conditions. Year after year, decade upon decade. All to expand into the natural cave system the Vault occupied, building for the future. However, John knew what his forefathers did not, that everything he’d been taught was a lie. After finishing school at the age of ten, John received his standard issue pipboy. An arm mounted personal computer, worn by everyone in the Vault. Used to coordinate the relentless pace of expansion, needed to work as an apprentice. To learn the craft that would be his life’s work. A noble calling to ensure a future for all that remained of the human race. A quirk of fate saw John equipped not with the crude, clunky, pipboy model his father wore. That almost everyone around him wore. His looked smaller, sleeker, finished in a jet black sheen. And capable of doing far more than its drab counterparts. The world above had been ravaged by atomic flames, yet life clung to its bones. The Red Valley fared better than most in the century since the bombs fell. The clean water and rich soil protected by rolling hills. All spared from direct strikes, for the most part. Life survived here. Trees spawned from charred ground, misshapen, green leaves turned red. Along with simple crops, grown wild at first, then cultivated by the survivors. The scavengers of the old world were inventive, hardy people. All determined to rebuild in the ruins of a world they never knew. In the decades that passed settlements emerged. They grew, spreading along the valley floor. Reclaiming the pre-war remnants of the once industrialised heartland. Salvaging the robotic wonders of a bygone age to build their walls and work their fields. To protect them in the dark of the wasteland. But such things are uncommon in this world, and the rarer something is, the greater its value. And the worth of pre-war technology had not gone unnoticed. The last, real, power in this world rested in the mechanised hands of The Brotherhood of Steel. Forged from the mortally wounded old world military. The Brotherhood used its access to the weapons made for a conflict no one won to strike out into the wastes. Men and women were equipped with advanced armour, aerial transportation, high grade weaponry. Accompanied by the training, strength, and will, to put them to use. They established chapters and set up outputs far and wide. All dedicated to a single purpose. To ensure the technology left abandoned by its long dead creators didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Namely, any hands that were not their own. This is the world John escaped into. A place of horrors brought forth from atomic fire. A place where survival meant battling against the darkness. Fighting a war each day to get to the next. And war...war never changes

FourPin · Video Games

Not enough ratings

223 Chs

Vol. III Chapter 15 “You’ll wake the whole damn block!”

Chapter 15 "You'll wake the whole damn block!"

Burton practically ran up the last flight of stairs, bursting out into the cool night. He checked his weapon instinctively, and set off.

"These people need our help." A rasping voice from the shadows made him spin and aim, finger on the trigger. Lit by a small flame he saw Suzette, lighting a cigarette. Except the flame didn't flicker, it seemed to freeze like an oil painting. Then the darkened ruins lit up, and a targeting lattice appeared on Suzette.

Burton felt his muscles burn, pushing against the system his adrenaline kick started. Off! He screamed in his mind, and thankfully the night darkened again.

"Don't fucking do that!" He yelled, the sound echoing in the ruins.

"Keep your voice down." She forced a quiet response, her tone angry. And with good cause.

Debris clattered from an alley across the street. Something crept from the shadow, low and snarling. Fangs set in ragged flesh let out a growling bark as an emaciated hound lurched into a run. Three more at its sinewy heels.

Burton lost his grip on the system and felt it move him. Strafing to cover Suzette while letting rip precise bursts of fire that cut the hounds to shreds. Before he knew it, the magazine clattered to the ground. Replaced and reloaded, the bolt snapped forward. His hands operating with unearned knowledge.

As he watched for any movement, Suzette stepped closer, reaching for the carbine. He spun back, finding the space to aim right at her. "Don't fucking do that!" He yelled again, his adrenaline surging.

"Quiet!" She glared at him, furious, but knowing better than to make even more noise. "Stay fucking quiet! You'll wake the whole damn block!" Burton looked back confused, like he'd been asked to turn the music down. Then he understood.

Shuffling and guttural rasps began to spread through the ruined apartment buildings that surrounded them.

The noise seemed to pass like the wind. Until the sound of knocking began to echo from behind them. "We need to deal with that." Suzette drew a blade, fashioned from a single arm of tailor's scissors. "Quietly. They're no threat to us."

The knocking drew them to a run down corner bar. Windows etched to opaque by the dust on the wind. Suzette crept to the door, easing it open. He followed, sweeping the room.

Skeletons in the booths, smashed glass strewn across the floor. A single feral ghoul, trapped behind the bar. "Call him over." Suzette whispered.

Burton stood at the end of the bar, knocking on the rotting wood. The wretched creature shuffled toward him. Suzette ducked under the bar hatch and smoothly pierced the base of the twice dead creature's skull. She half caught the limp corpse as it fell, laying it down gently and kneeling by its head. Burton wondered why she lingered. Something glinted, wrapped around her hand.

"Do you want to say something?" She asked.

"I don't believe in God." Burton tried to convince himself, wishing he could've said something less callous. Somehow the idea of a vengeful, ruinous, God handing down cruel punishments and smiting cities began to feel sickeningly real.

"I was outside, you know, when the lake got hit." She stared at him, like she'd stared that day. "I saw it Burton. Me and my husband. By the time we walked here, I'd watched him die. Slowly, in agony. Him and others. So many others." Her voice broke as she became lost in the horror. She'd fought for her life while Burton drank expensive booze in five star comfort.

"He made me promise to get to the shelter, and when I did it was closed. So I laid down and waited to die. They brought me inside. Kept me alive. When the food ran low we went out. That's why we were chosen." Suzette had a look of certainty. The look his mother had. "Doesn't matter if you don't believe in him. He believes in you. Of all the people that he could have saved, he chose us. The engineer that built this place and the man who designed it. And here you are, running away." She sounded heartbroken, hurt and betrayed.

"I'm not running away. I'm going to do something." He wanted so desperately to stay, but knew what he had to do.

"What?" She asked, hope in her voice.

"Penance." He let out a heavy sigh. "We can do something to help these people right now, but it means putting you in danger. It might be a year from now, it might be a century, but they'll come." Burton knew that enough information about Vault X survived out there. Sooner or later, powers would rise and seek more power. Then they'd come for him, the Vault, and anyone who knew about it. Never again. Never.

"Are you coming or what?" Suzette called back as she set off. Not knowing where to go, but ready to do whatever she could.

Burton seized every second of the clarity in his mind to think, to plan. He plotted routes and set up drop points with Suzette. Secluded, out of the way spots, with good cover and sight lines. They walked all night, reaching the tunnel to the Vault door just before dawn.

"You should watch the sun come up." Suzette tried to get him to stay a little longer. You don't deserve it. The voice in his head answered, and he headed down below.

The next few hours passed in a flurry of activity. Crate after crate of freeze dried food. Medical supplies. Heat exchangers to generate clean water. All of it hauled up by bots and stacked in the tunnel outside the door. It barely made a dent in the Vault supplies. The time had come to close the door and for Suzette to leave. Doing so with a pair of Assaultrons in tow. A stretcher gripped between them, laden with supplies.

"Are you absolutely certain about this?" She asked for the fifth time in the past hour.

"Yes." He wondered if this was how insanity felt. To be utterly convinced by an idea others thought crazy. "The bots will make drops over the next month, keep these two for security. They've got bodyguard and combat protocols." He ran through a checklist in his mind, there was nothing else. "You should go." He turned to walk away, trying to make it a quick goodbye.

Burton kept his back to the Vault door as it screeched and rumbled back into place. He waited for things to fall silent. Then he got to work.

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