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 · 游戏衍生

分數不夠

223 Chs

Vol. III Chapter 22 “A true company man.”

Chapter 22 "A true company man."

Two days later, he headed south. Suzette told him not to go. She'd outright refused to tell Bill, having already turned him down. Most of the scavenging had taken place close to the tower. Along with the rejuvenated low cost housing to the south.

Even now as he walked by the deserted buildings, he saw so much potential. Bricks, piping, wiring. Floor tiles, roof slates, sinks, bathtubs. All of it perfectly salvageable.

The breeze picked up into a wind outside of the ruins. Rolling across the empty space and mounds of rubble. He'd been following the twisted and cracked roads most of the day. He knew he had to be close, but couldn't see anything but trees and rubble.

"Not much of an outdoorsman are we." Mr. House appeared walking beside him.

"Says the shut in." He shot back.

"The difference is I have everything I need, because I think ahead." Mr. House grinned and he almost swung for him.

"The difference is I actually give a shit about other people." He tried to focus on what mattered most.

"Since when?" Mr. House yelled behind him as he walked in the opposite direction.

The trees gave way to a vaguely straight line. A strip of concrete not yet fully claimed by the encroaching forest. Soon husks of cars dotted the road. It grew wider, and before long he saw it. A drab, long, rectangular building. A folding steel door painted with Robco Industries sign.

"You know there was a time I'd have paid a small fortune to watch this place burn." Virgil felt excitement at seeing the building still standing. This had been a most grating irritation to him in the world that was. An immovable reminder of the old man. It seemed positively benign now.

"I would have rebuilt it twice as big." Mr. House responded, grinning at the barely profitable factory.

Virgil made his way round the back. He heaved a dumpster under the fire escape and climbed to the roof. "So it's common thievery is it." Mr. House chimed in as Virgil worked a crowbar into the door jamb.

"I'm just getting started." The door creaked, and a forceful shoulder charge burst it open. "Besides, it's not like you need any of this stuff." He clicked on his torch, and headed down the stairs.

"How do you know?" Mr. House questioned him as he walked the darkened hallway.

"What?!" Virgil snapped, startled in the dark.

"How do you know that I no longer require what is mine?" Mr. House continued. "How do you know that this very facility is not an integral part of my plans?" Virgil ignored the egomaniacal ranting.

He found the head office and kicked the door open. Behind a wooden desk, a skeleton glared at him. The top of the skull had a jagged edged hole. A nickel plated ten mil pistol on the stained carpet. "He died at work." Skeletons weren't uncommon, but this one drew a pang of empathy. Especially when he saw the well stocked bar trolley.

"A true company man, working till the end." Mr. House sounded proud of his long dead employee. "Unlike some." Mr. House sneered as Virgil drank from a bottle. He offered Mr. House the bottle, just to see the look of disgust.

Virgil pulled the chair round and extended the wire from his prosthetic. The fusion cell within his arm powered the terminal. The encryption brought a smile to his ravaged face as it crumbled in seconds.

He had access to everything. Inventory, shipping, customer address. Even backups of the core operating systems for each model of bot. He dumped the data on to the memory drive in his arm, gathered the bottles and pistol, then headed downstairs.

The instant he stepped on the factory floor, he became transported to the world that was. Workers attached limbs to bots on the assembly line. Arc welders sparked. Presses thumped up and down. Then his mind drifted and everything vanished. Life and noise replaced with stillness and deathly quiet.

The layout looked identical to a hundred other Robco Industries factories he'd been in. Although this had been retrofitted for the war effort. He realised what the last act of the skeleton had been. Locking down the secure section of the factory. Anything that even looked mean locked away behind foot thick blast doors. With real encryption this time.

Still, there were enough civilian model bots to be useful, most of them still in parts. He made one final stop, finding Bill's locker and taking the photographs from inside the door.

By now the sun had risen and the way back became a good deal easier. The sun set by the time he reached the tower. Most of the work had stopped for the day. The handful of bars were busy. Lights shining from the residential windows.

Virgil paused outside the door, still feeling he should knock. He went in, seeing Suzette working at her desk, as expected. He slumped into the battered armchair by the window and waited. "You made it back then." She didn't look up from her papers.

"It was worth it." He saw that was a poor answer as she glared at him.

"It was worth risking your life for junk?! If half of the shit I've heard is true…" She looked away, staring out across the wastes. "It's not like it was, there's people out there now. Lunatics who'd kill you for fun. Ignorant bigots that'd shoot you on sight. Not to mention whoever's out there looking for the great Burt…" She stopped herself before saying his old name.

"I'm sorry." He could see she'd been worried. The overflowing ashtray and crossed out mistakes gave it away. "I have a plan, it'll mean going back out there, with more people."

"Were you not listening?!" Suzette slammed her palms on the desk as she stood. "I have to keep them safe!" She yelled, then fell back into her chair. Her wrought nerves had loosened her tongue. Virgil poured her an extra large brandy from the bottles he'd brought back. He'd have made the journey just to see her smile in that moment. "They survived the end of the world. I'm not getting them killed because they trusted me."

His own conscience weighed heavy with the lives he'd destroyed. With his part in fuelling the ruinous war machine that burnt the world. He'd spare her even a fraction of that if he could.

"Tell her Burton." Mr. House stood at the window. "Tell her what I taught you."

"When I was working for the old man he taught me one thing above all. Empires require sacrifice." He saw a sneering grin in the reflection. "He's an egomaniac and a weapons grade prick. But he's not wrong. If we want to build something that lasts, we need to be prepared for risk."

"He sounds like a monster." Suzette reached out and took his hand.

"He is." Virgil answered, as Mr. House turned from the window.

"To whom are you referring, Burton Blake?" His fractured psyche lashed out.

"Is?" Suzette asked with a smile. "You really think he's still around?"

"He is. People like him, like me, we'll do whatever it takes to get what we want." He waited for the cutting remark, none came.

"That doesn't sound like the man I know." Suzette's faith in him, in who he could be, made him believe it too.

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