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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
222 Chs

Vol. III Epilogue Part 5 Intellectual Property

Epilogue Part 5 Intellectual Property

Rosie and her new companion set off. Both eager to leave the Institute behind. "This way." She took point, heading into the next room. Rosie planned on uploading Janey into a blank Gen 2. Her new friend meant she had another option.

"My friend got taken, brought down here." She didn't lie.

"Bastards. You get me in front of a judge and I'll have two dozen of Boston's Finest in here." Valentine answered. Rosie didn't understand.

A row of five copper cylinders sat at the end of the room. Two open, three filled with amniotic fluid and warm to the touch. Rosie stretched to peer through the round windows in turn. She wheeled over the terminal and stool, connected Janey's black box and got to work.

Rosie had spent years constructing a virtual bridge between Janey and the synth operating system. Although she'd never thought about uploading her to a Gen 3. The code scrolled to its conclusion and nothing happened.

A thunk from inside the cylinder made her step back. Suddenly it hinged open, dumping the body out on the grated floor in a wave of slime. She vomited fluid and breathed deep.

"Error." She knelt, looking at her arm like she didn't understand it.

"Janey?" Rosie said softly. She looked right at her, elfin features and hazel eyes.

"Rosie...what..." Janey looked terrified. Rose grabbed a towel and knelt by her.

"We're in the shit Janey, deep. I can't get your body out of here, I'm sorry." Rosie hated to see her distressed.

"This is unacceptable!" Janey pounded the floor, denting the metal grating.

"Hey." Rosie looked in her the eye. "You're just visiting. I'll find you a replacement, I promise."

"Just visiting." She let out a deep breath. "Fenris?" Janey looked at the dog with new eyes. He sat by her, Janey stroking him the way she used to.

"She seems...swell." Valentine let slip as Rosie ducked out.

"It's a long story." Rosie didn't want to push him. She looked around, finding one of the ubiquitous laundry carts. She wheeled it back to her rapidly growing team. "Put these on." Rosie gave Valentine an extra set of scrubs. She took her own off and gave them to Janey.

Rosie pulled up the hood and mask on her Shadow suit. She drew her pistol and gripped her dagger. Whatever happened from here on, she wouldn't go quietly.

"Get in." Rosie tapped the inside of the laundry cart. Fenris jumped right in. Janey staggered over, still bemused. "Alright Nick, slow, steady and a tall glass of shut the fuck up. Take the lift to the top level. Laundry and waste disposal."

"You got it." He smiled, the servos manipulating his rubbery skin. "Walk in the park."

Rosie sat cross legged and cut a slit in the plastic fabric so she could see. She split her focus between the corridor, and Janey. Currently blinking and poking her own face. "Hey." Rosie whispered. "Want to see your diagnostics?" Rosie held out her arm. Janey snatched at the pipboy, desperate for data and rocking the cart.

"Watch it." Valentine half yelled. "Damn cart's got a mind of its own." He said to someone Rosie couldn't see.

"Shut up!" Rosie whispered harshly.

She felt a moment of relief as she heard the lift doors start to close. Then two scientists walked in.

"Wash day right, nothing clean." Valentine said, unable to stand the awkward silence. Rosie readied her pistol.

"Must be one of Baxter's." One said to the other.

"Some poor Slocum Joe got a few bucks for a brain scan. Now he's pushing laundry." They seemed to think it funny. Rosie wanted to kill them on general principle. The lift stopped and they left.

"This is it. Where we going Red?" Valentine asked, reminding her of a very old friend.

"Waste disposal." Rosie answered. Her escape made possible by arrogance once again.

She laughed when first seeing the schematics. A near enough straight shot to the surface, left unguarded. It didn't occur to them that anyone would even attempt what she had in mind.

Rosie hopped from the cart, getting Fen and Janey out. Tubes from every floor dumped waste into a huge pile. Dozens of Gen 1's worked filling containers with scrap. Broken synth parts, drums of toxic sludge, damaged steel and excavated bedrock.

"We're in business, get this one cleared out." Rosie left Valentine and Janey to clear out a container. She headed for the nearest terminal.

Rosie smashed at the plastic housing. Revealing the reorganised but still basic terminal underneath. She connected to the four pin socket and got to work. Rosie had been kept at bay from the Institute network. Actively monitored and fiercely defended, any incursion would have brought unwanted attention.

Now she no longer cared about getting caught, Rosie went full scorched earth. She brazenly overwrote key research data with fiction. She crashed systems, set hardware to run at excessive speed. All her actions big and loud.

Her misdirection raging, Rosie slipped a tiny fragment string into the backup servers. The weaponised code wouldn't even activate for six months. When it woke, the code would worm its way through every byte of data. Replacing every single number with a random piece of pi. It would set them back decades.

"You must be terminated." The crude Gen 1's turned on her. They tracked her location faster than she thought. Rosie triggered the stealth field. "I was in error. No enemy detected." The Gen 1's looked lost, Rosie slipped by them with ease.

"Time to go." Rosie hurried them into the container, getting them to sit in the corners. She yanked back the lever, setting the machinery in motion. Belts in the floor clanked the container along, headed to the shaft. "Pretend it's a rollercoaster." She tried to settle the worried looks.

The container snapped into place. Her ears popped as the pressure dropped. Suddenly the container shot upwards. Propelled by a falling counterweight and reduced air resistance. The force pinned her down, Fenris whimpering. "Not...long...now." She managed to say, the G force pulling at her face. Rosie's vision began to darken. Her suit countered by compressing her legs tight.

She felt the container slowing. "Get ready." The container began to tilt, one side hinging open. Fenris bounded out gracefully, the others less so. Rosie shook off the jarring drop, rushing to pull down her mask.

She felt the sun on her face for the first time in nearly four years. The wind blew her hair. Rosie opened her eyes to find herself on a literal trash heap. It looked wonderful to her. The container retracted, leaving just another mound of rubbish. Janey shielded her eyes, walking in a near daze.

"Don't that just beat all." Valentine took in the view. "Station must be…" He looked around the unfamiliar world. "I'm a little turned around, just give me a minute." Rosie could see him growing unsettled. She glanced around the discarded junk, seeing something she thought might help.

She sank her clawed fingers into the cover of the old world cigarette machine then yanked it away. "Here." She handed Valentine the packs.

"Alright Red. Now all we need is a book of matches. You take the left, I'll take the right." Valentine joked, making her smile.

"I got you covered." She held out her four pin connector. Valentine took a cigarette, tapping it on the pack out of habit. A spark from the connector clicked. Valentine breathed in smoke, visibly calmed.

Rosie sat next to him, knowing staying together put them both at risk. "So how's the private sector treating you?" He asked, making conversation.

"Long hours, low pay. What's not to like." She thought about her time before getting trapped. "I get to pick my own cases, maybe make a difference."

"Don't sound half bad." Valentine looked out over the trash heap. "It's this way." He flicked the cigarette and stood. Fenris barked, Rosie pushed into the dreamlike state.

Rosie shoved Valentine, a searing bolt of white energy hit him in through the neck. She saw the glow fade from his eyes. Rosie knew the best thing she could do was lead them away. She yanked at a piece of scrap, pulling it over her latest friend, then returned fire.

Clean headshots dropped the Gen 1's and slowed the advance of the Gen 2's. "Get us out of here boy." She sent Fen running through the trash piles. "We're leaving." She grabbed Janey, pulling her along.

She followed Fen through the maze of trash, popping off rounds as she went. The sensation of firing in anger long missed. She saved the last few rounds. Fen got them out of the trash and into the red brick ruins. He lay flat, indicating something Rosie found oddly pleasing.

Rosie let the synths catch up to her, drawing them into narrow streets and tight alleys. Their clanking and inane chatter did the rest. Ferals swarmed from the ruins. Smashing through rotten doors. Hurling themselves through grimy windows. They tore the synths apart while Rosie slipped away.

"We need to get downtown. Can you make it?" Rosie didn't have time to coax Janey along.

"Yes." She looked to be walking better but still seemed unsteady.

They made it to the river. Even the polluted stench made Rosie smile. As they walked across the crumbling road bridge, a flash of light blinded her. As if lightning had struck from the cloudless afternoon sky.

Rosie turned back to see a solitary figure on the bridge. Long black coat and sunglasses. She recognised the Gen 3. The same supposed raider leader that led her to the Institute in the first place. She knew they'd send him. And Rosie knew the weakness in their design.

The synth walked towards them. "I will handle this." Janey sounded like her old self and stepped forward. She glared menacingly for a moment. "Shit."

"You know how to fight. Follow my lead." Rosie had faith in her friend. The synth stopped, its mouth open as if shocked.

"Come come Ms. Blake. You cannot imagine we would let you take our intellectual property." The voice came from the synth, but Rosie knew who was speaking.

"Fuck you, Director. You sound like a slaver. No better than the wastrels you hate." Rosie stalled for time. "Besides, I thought you'd be too busy trying to save your precious data." She goaded him.

"I assure you Ms. Blake, we have secure backups." He responded, certain in his answer.

"Bullshit." She acted rattled, further reinforcing his overconfidence. "Are going to let us pass or do I have to break your favourite toy...again." Rosie drew her pistol.

"Very well Ms. Blake. Your death will provide useful data." The synth took control, advancing on her.

Rosie lured her attacker in, making herself the threat. She dodged a fast cross, spun round an elbow strike. Rosie knew she would tire long before her attacker. Still she kept dodging, and watching.

She felt herself being pushed against the low wall. Punches smashing the concrete where she'd been fractions of a second earlier. Rosie's frustration spurred her to fight back. Yet she had learned patience the hard way.

The system in her eyes finally responded, its scan complete. "Now!" She yelled, sharing the data with Janey.

She hopped off the wall, bringing down a heel kick. The synth staggered back, removing his cracked glasses. Rosie slipped closer and fired. Not at the dull, lab grown eyes but in front of them. Muzzle flash scorched the retinas. A bullet past each ear popped the ear drums.

If the Institute had made the best machine they could, she'd be dead. In their arrogance they'd sought to recreate the most complex machine in the world. Now their creation staggered, deaf and blind, clawing at its own eyes.

It ripped the weak flesh away. Revealing the metal skull and glowing eyes beneath. It went for Rosie. She stood her ground. He swung, the fist caught mid punch. "You will not hurt her." Janey sounded angry. Rosie almost felt pity for her attacker.

Janey held the arm tight, punching the metal face. Rosie drew her daggers, stabbing at the weak points behind the knee and at the neck. The synth staggered back, blows putting him against the wall. Janey unleashed a powerful kick. Driving the synth through the concrete and into the river.

"Thanks for the help." Rosie pulled Janey away, Fenris at her heels. She sheathed her daggers on her wrist. Janey grabbed her arm gently. She pulled the dagger out, seeing it with new eyes.

"This was Brandon's. We used to play chess." Janey started to cry. Rosie hugged her, making her cry more. "I would very much like to keep this body."

They made it across the river before taking fire. Flashes in the windows around her preceded smashing and energy blasts. Out of ammo, Rosie had no option but to run. Fenris found routes through the old apartment buildings. Gen 2's seemed to be behind every door.

"To the roof, go." Rosie hurried them past and up, hoping to find a way across. Suddenly glass smashed behind her. Before she could move, synth arms locked around her. Another ran from the hallway, diving at them both.

Without regard for themselves the synths took her out the window. Rosie fell, hitting the ground hard. Error after error blinked into her view. The system cranked her adrenaline, keeping her awake. Long enough to see the synths surround her.

Rosie dragged herself up, her vision shaky. Then she heard it. A sound she knew. The whirring stomp of power armour. She blacked out watching an armoured knight tear synths apart.