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About Deviant Craig Gordon AKA FletcherMale/United Kingdom Groups :iconenclave-only: Enclave-Only
One Enclave! One America!
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Tholdrin's Story

“So you ask me when I became sentient? You actually meant when did I become able to converse with you. Typical human arrogance. Believing that themselves are the only meaningful intelligent species in the wastelands. One of the problems still not blasted by fire from the skies. Not being able to speak is not a sign of not being intelligent. I had my own thoughts before being an experiment of the ones in black power armour....oh you have heard of them have you? The Enclave you say? Well then at least I don’t have to explain how much of a bad example they are of your kind. They claim the wasteland is full of mutations, the impure and barbarians? From my perspective they are the ones who are the barbarians.

I  don't remember all of my life before the experiments. In recent years more of it has come back. I do remember my mother. Not that an 8 foot tall mutated lizard is what you humans would call a mother. But she did look after myself and the rest of my brothers and sisters. She ensured that hunters stayed away. Brought what was left of them back on more than one occasion. Of-course that did nothing to alleviate the human fear of my kind. It was that fear that killed my mother. A being in metal who stumbled on our cave. He turned my mother to ash but did not see most of us young ones hiding in the dark while they had fought. It was a rude awakening to the world that we were growing into. But it taught us a lesson. If there is one thing certain in life, it is that the wasteland is a cruel and barbaric place, and the weak perish.

Most of my brothers and sisters left the cave shortly when it became obvious that mother would not be providing her services any more. I however stayed. The cave was home, and it stayed cool in the wasteland temperatures. Out in the wasteland there are also more than a few hazards to a young and growing creature. Shelled monsters with sharp claws for one. They were nice to chew on when mother was able to drag one back...

...I apologise how rude of me for drifting off like that. Where was I? Oh yes. Growing up on ones own is less than ideal. Even for my kind. Food was an important resource and while water pooled into an area of the cave providing drinks, food was harder to come by. At first I survived by eating what was left of the carcasses that mother had brought to us. However they soon ran out. It was this that forced me out the cave for the first time. To sniff that air...feel the bright sun on my scales. It was a moment of revelation. Stepping into this world that you humans had created. One of deserts and charred nature. You certainly created a world perfectly suited to every form of life but yourself.

At first I survived by hunting small things that scuttled. I remember them being more crunchy than satisfying. The shelled creatures eggs were good though if I could sneak into their nesting lairs. Not easy to avoid a pair of sharp claws when I was that small. As I grew I became more bold and more capable of attacking larger prey. I stayed away from the humans of the wastelands though. I had seen what the one in metal had done to my mother. I did not want to become a pile of ash. I did far more wandering as I grew. Spent more time away from the caves until a time when I remember forgetting about them entirely and living out in the wastes, wandering the sands, through the world destroyed by the weapons of your kind. Occasionally I would smell the scents of human habitation. I would avoid them or stay somewhere out of the way.

I guess now this was how I spent much of my youth. Avoiding humans and their weapons. How I came to be in the hands of the Enclave I do not remember. I do remember everything that came next. I awoke in a strange cave. Dark, made of metal. A cell obviously but at the time I had no perception nor knowledge. I was strapped to some sort of structure by my limbs. Restrained and unable to move. My struggles failed to get me free however they did alert the humans clad in white suits that were around me. I could not see their faces. Only orange masks.  And so began the experiments. They were slight at first. The occasional scale pulled off me. The occasional drawing of blood. They fed me and kept me alive as the days dragged on. How many I do not know. But the experiments became rougher. They gave me a number to which they referred to me. Number Six. I heard them use it when they talked to each other about me. One day, while I was restrained, they started to cut me open, injure me. They purposefully harmed me to see how I healed. How I reacted. The pain they would inflict grew as they used more things to harm me. Electricity. Lasers. Sharp blades. As time went on I became used to their treatment. Used to being unable to escape. It seemed this was the clue for them to move onto a new phase.

I was strapped down again but this on my front. I could see the ground, its metal finish. I could hear humans talking again but not understand them. That was when I felt the blades in my skin again. Once more I ignored the pain, the blood running down my head. I'm not sure how long I was there for. I was left for some time once the pain had died away. After a time I begun to notice a change...a difference. I wasn't sure what the humans had done. But something had been done to me. There was something on my head now. Something cold. My memory became dull and difficult to recall after that.

In recent times I've remembered things. Voices in my head. Telling me of things. Orders. I remember being caged up, called on to fight. I fought many things. The human mutants. Normals. People in metal like the one that killed my mother. The ones in black armour that stood with me seemed to take great enjoyment watching me rip these others apart. When I refused to fight I was hurt. Searing pain in my head like someone had stabbed something in my eyes and brain. The more I disobeyed the more I would be hurt. I became just another tool for them. The experiments continued all the while. Every day one of the humans in white would inject something into me. Something that glowed green. Something dangerous. I'm not sure why I thought it was dangerous.

The beings I was being sent to fight changed too. Time and again I was starved and released into one of those slapped together settlements your kind create. There the people in black would watch as I ransacked these villages. Killed the inhabitants. The young and the old. All fell to my claws. I had no mercy for those that I tore apart. But I questioned why. My kind kill for food or protection. These Enclave didn't eat the people they killed or made me kill to defend them. They just liked killing. But I knew the device they had lodged in my head could kill me at a moments notice of they needed to. But they were as arrogant as you were human for wandering in here. They thought they could control me. All the time I could feel myself getting more different. My eyesight changed and grew better. I was able to understand their language. Understand their words. Even start copying it. I started to watch their patterns. Stalk them almost. Watch them use their technology to achieve their ends. Time passed until I found myself in a new place.

The Enclave as you call them, referred to this place as the Capital Wasteland. It really was a wasteland. Nothing but burned houses and collapsed buildings. There was more killing to be done here and so I killed. I obeyed the orders. Safe in the knowledge that soon I would be smart enough and strong enough to escape. But my chance only came when I met someone new. Someone different.

To this day I remember him. Or was it a her. It was dark and difficult to tell. Whoever it was bore the scars of combat. They had the eyes of something who had grown in the wastes. They wore a metal suit like that of the others but it was obviously a trophy of conquest. They had a canine with them. I could tell from the smells. I remember the day I was given my freedom from this lone wanderer and his dog. I was trapped in my metal cave. Metal box. Awaiting release to go and kill more of the giant mutated humans that had laid claim to a large area in-front of a ruined building that was some pre-war government building. I didn't care much for the humans architecture. A cave is as fine as any building of stone and metal. It was dark and cold.

I heard the first shots and struggled to see or hear what was going on after that. Flashes of light and laser. Loud shouts and the sharp cracks of gunfire. Bullets bounced off my cage with alarming  regularity. It started to make my ears hurt. But the sounds of combat. The scent of blood. It made my anger grow. My violence. I wanted out. I wanted to join the fight and harm everyone out there.  But the doors remained shut and soon there was silence. But over the scent of blood and death I could still smell the dog and this other human. The metal headed human figure had walked up to the cage and peered inside. He saw me. I starred back at him through the gap in the wall. I remember wondering whether this human would slip some sort of bomb through the gap or whether they would turn me to ash like my mother.

The figure disappeared however and son after the cage doors opened. Freedom had found me at last. I carefully dragged my bulk out the cage and turned to face the figure. They had a weapon in their hands pointing at me but they stood still and calm. This lone wanderer was not frightened of me in any way. Around him were the dead metal people who had owned me. Used me. The human  watched me as I watched him. Both of us seemed surprised that each other were not attacking. But maybe this human saw the scars of the Enclaves work and had some sympathy for a beast like me. After some time the human figure lowered its weapon and shouldered it. It gave me a last look before whistling at the dog that followed him off into the ruins of the old city once more.
This lone human had freed me...aware that I was what I am. And yet, had shown no fear of me. Only a wish to free me from my servitude as a slave of the black metal men.

It had taken some time to remove the device on my head. Or at-least damage it enough to ensure the Enclave could never use me again. I was still intelligent, able to understand the language of those around me. I saw it best to leave the wasteland of the capital and head for new shores. I pointed my snout in a direction and marched away from those that would use me for their ends. I never saw that lone human or his dog again. Perhaps his kindness got the better of him one day. Who knows. But I owe him my life. And he taught me another lesson of the wastelands. That kindness and compassion are not forgotten. And they can be far stronger than the brutish behaviour of others.

For many cycles of the sun and moon I walked. Through battered coastal villages. Through forgotten swamp lands. Past the ruins of great civilisation. Past the remnants trying to survive. At last after a long time I came across a new land. A new place. A vast desert stretched below me, marked by a place of tall spires and bright lights in the distance. A place of many humans I believed. I could smell others of my kind but I knew they would shun me due to my difference. A life alone is what I assumed would follow and for a while that is what happened. A solitary life of hunting and avoiding the humans of this new land I found myself in. Of-course it didn't stay like that. One day someone happened upon the ruin where I was sleeping. A human, one of different clothing to most though. He knew exactly what I was however from the start. He knew I could understand his words.

He claimed his name was Arcade. He claimed to be working for some group in the wastelands. Do gooders apparently. But he had been a former member of the Enclave from what he said. He recognised the device still stuck on my head. He offered to remove it for me. I was uncertain why I should trust another Enclave again. This new human had been unsure how to convince me of his intentions but regaled me with a story about his own past, and how he had come to help a lone courier in the wasteland. In doing so he had found a new purpose. There was something honest about his face and his words and so I agreed. He, however, stipulated I had to follow him to some place new somewhere he called 'Vegas'. I assumed this had been the arrangement of towers I had seen earlier on my travels.

We wandered together through the wastes while Arcade told me more of the place I found myself in. Apparently some time ago there had been a battle in which he and others had been involved. Personally I found it hard to believe this doctor sort had been in any fights. No scars, no wounds...he hardly looked or sounded intimidating. It took a day to reach the metal walls of the settlement he referred to as Vegas. I suppose Arcade had not thought how it looked as we advanced down the ruined streets getting more than a few odd looks. The people around here seemed like most humans now. Barely contained thugs eager to put a blade in your back if it helped them survive. Or maybe it was just me they wanted to kill.

The surgery was excruciatingly painful. I remember giving Arcade a nasty scratch during it. However, he never stopped working and eventually the device on my head had been removed. Apparently, there was no future way any one could use it to control me. I was, as he put it, free now to explore my new intelligence. I was grateful to Arcade but while he insisted I remain at this fort to heal, I knew my presence was a danger for him and the others that had helped. I left that night and sort refuge elsewhere. And thus, this is where you found me human. In this cave, alone, hiding from your kind. People of your kind who wish to cause me harm, simply because I am a Deathclaw. Now I could let you go. But then you would return with others. What’s that? You promise not to? Please, if I was capable of laughing I would. I'm afraid human, that you attacked me first and  as a result, your life is forfeit. But don't worry. I'll make sure you are dead before I start eating you. I'm not uncivilised after all...

Knowing what the world was like before was difficult in these times. Many of the survivors from those days had died long ago. Their stories were now twisted and very different to the original. Arguably all history is usually subjective, pure facts are difficult to find.  Yet the stories all shared similar features. There was a time before what some people called the Great Flood, others as Doomsday or the End Times. The human race had continued its hungry desire to consume more and more, destroying great swathes of the planet in its everlasting quest for more. When the hunger for more collided with diplomacy and politics, the inevitable occurred. For humanity didn’t just have hunger as a vice, but war and conflict as well.

And the story went that after decades of destroying the planet, mother nature decided that humanity was a plague that could no longer be tolerated. At the time is called climate change...or global warming.  And very little was done about. The politicians continued their games. When the first smog storms whirled around the planet it was ignored. The governments of the planet throwing fake money at aid programs and research. Nothing was ever actually done. As usual the scientist were ignored and the damage swept under the carpet.

Of course things only got worse. The stories talk about the world having great stretches of frozen water at the poles. Ice Caps. The year of the great flood...they ceased to exist. Yet again humanity wasn’t bothered. Their great walls and dams would keep the water back and come winter the ice caps would freeze again. But the walls didn't hold. Not when the rest of the planets ice started to melt. It didn’t take long for every bit of snow...every bit of ice...every glacier on Earth to melt away. Only then did the planet wake up and realise that this was serious. But it was far too late to do anything about it. The land started to sink below the waves. The climate chaos was accelerated by the wild weather and the melting of the ice caps. Storms and hurricanes spread around the globe making the flooding worse. Soon it became clear that humanity was facing extinction.

And so the story went that in the last days on Earth those that could retreated to high land and away from the rising waters to build ships of the sea and land that humanity in some form could survive on. There was a great hope that the human race could live on in this new world. But mother nature would not be so forgiving. With the waters not succeeding in drowning the pestilence she turned their own constructions against them. With evil intent the waters started their mission. The pollution and the radiation that the human race had shown so little care about was turned against them as every power plant and dump, every secret dump and heap was swallowed by the sea, its by products rising with help from the storms. The waters surged around the world flooding worlds volcanic islands causing huge eruptions of steam. Steam that was full of the terrible by product of humanities consumerism.

Those below on the great ships had little warning of the danger as they started their existence on the seas. But those above in the great airships could sea what was happening. A thick murky soup that started to spread round the world covering the surface world below. A pea green layer of death and radiation. Deadly to all life. Those on the great ships of the sea would end their days choking and suffering from radiation sickness. Mother Nature now had to wait patiently for the next stage for the people above in the clouds may have survived but humanity was a race of conflict and war. Sooner or later the would rear their heads again and the human race would be all but dead.

Decades had passed since those days and the human race had survived. Just. The floating airships became homes of the sky, living on whatever they could drag up from the sea's below. The great ships that had succumbed to the radiation clouds were the first things to be pilfered from their supplies; for their weapons and equipment. It soon became common place to look for sunken treasures from the world before. Only these treasures were not gold and gemstone but machinery and weaponry. Food and supplies. Each airship having its own territory it would patrol, eager to keep away outsiders who may try to steal their riches.

The most powerful airships were those that protected the last few stretches of dry land that existed above the low lying cloud layers that killed in minutes. These last remnants of dry land were used to keep the little livestock and grow what little crops could be grown. For the rest, life on dry land gained a mythical status. People were born on the great floating ships. People worked and lived. People would die on them and be dropped into the waters below. That was life for what was left of the human race.

However, on this day, many years after the great events that ruined the world, one person who should have been claimed by mother nature was about to be given a reprieve. For on the day the great predator of the sky claimed another kill the two fighting opponents were not alone. A third vessel was watching, perhaps to observe the outcome...or maybe to help the prey. In either case, as the victim burned in furious fire and crumbled towards the smog layer the newcomer followed, eager to pick over the ruins.

“Pilot, hold our position over the site. Height...1000 metres.”

A stern faced captain, face wrinkled with age and eyes dulled by tiredness observed the remains of another great airship like his falling towards the sea in flames. He had seen this sight many times before. Sometimes he had been the cause of the sight. But this time he was only here for what may be left to serve his ship and the crew aboard. Everyone was a member of his crew. All 300 of them. Around him in their jumpsuits of blue and grey the rest of the control staff monitored their systems inside the control car. A construction of glass and metal that hung jutted out below the great airship. At the front of this two deck area was the pilot, in charge of the ships huge wheel for steering. Besides him were the airships two stations for altitude. A difficult job. Each station had work in perfect harmony to level the ship and achieve its height by the removal of lifting gases, water and ballast of other kinds.

“Holding altitude at 1000 metres Captain.” one of the fresh faced women at the altitude stations reported.

Captain Achilles peered below through the thick glass window in front of him in the floor. Being the Captain of an Airship was not a job for someone with a fear of heights. Below him the churning mass of putrid clouds and killer radiation that created a thick barrier to the sea below. He sighed. With green smog clouds had remained a constant feature of the planet since he was young enough to remember them. Some people had lived in hope they would dissipate. But in 50 years they had not. A shrill crackle through the radio alerted him that the diver crews were ready.

“Teams one and two ready on the lifts.”
“Go ahead. Synchronise your watches. You have 30 minutes of atmosphere.”

The captain waited in his control car, observing his staff, making sure the airship was controlled as the great lifts lowered the crews down. It had taken years to construct the two huge cargo lifts, with their huge stacks of cable. The cable itself a lucky find. Time passed. 10 minutes...15...then another crackle and the metal sound of coiling cables.

“Lift one coming up.”

Achilles peered down through the glass attempting to sea the platform as it rose from the green clouds. He couldn't see anything of worth on it. A crackle of radio.

“Lift one...Captain we have a situation.”
“We found a man in the sea.”
“Probably one from the burn up. So what. Leave him like we do with all the dead.”
“No sir...he's alive...”

Tyrus opened his eyes slightly, the chill of wind on his face, looking up at the dark grey shape that blocked out the sun. It was the most magnificent thing he had seen. He barely registered the voices of the girl and other men on the platform talking as that great shadow loomed closer. The young girl looked down at him and smiled slightly before he passed out again into blackness.

Mature Content

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Prologue -

The predator had been stalking its prey for the last day and a half and it was starting to loose patience. Neither had been willing to risk a conflict at range. Instead a slow game of catch up...a game of movement. The prey had been clever, using all its tricks it knew to evade capture but now it was out of time. The deadly predator readied its teeth and drew closer, its prey knowing what was imminent to occur.

At first the rumble that reverberated through the slung up hammock that Tyrus was sleeping on could have been blamed on the engines or some practical joker. In fact so could the second. However the third shock, the one that threw Tyrus out his bed and across the room, the young guy sprawling, could not be blamed on any engine or practical joke. In a few seconds Tyrus could hear the screams and the shouts. He could hear the whistles of shells outside and the sounds of thudding boots. Then the alarms started. Loud oppressive alarms. Then came the call from command.

“All personal to damage control and battle -stations. Now!”

Tyrus pushed himself up and stumbled to his locker to grab his gear and boots, another hard shock reverberating through the floor. It took him hardly any time to get dressed from his bare form to being in his heavy clothing, most of it dirty with grime and oil. Strapping a helmet to his head and goggles on his face, he charged out the dormitory and headed up the stairwell, taking two of the metal stairs at the time, joining others that were heading upwards. He didn't give the people around him much thought. All that mattered was getting to his station. Atlast the stairs opened out into the large cathedral of engineering above.  A mighty construction of metal and canvas.

He gave it barely a look as he ran down the metal gantry ways that ran along the sides of the huge open construction. All around him, both above and below were gun platforms, some already winched outside the hull, others being readied. A deep boom thundered as one of the positions fired, hurling a shall towards whatever was after them. For a moment all was still then came more thuds and clatters. Objects were hitting the outside, creating a loud clatter like steel rain that filled the inside of the vessel making an already loud environment deafening. Tyrus avoided getting in the gun crews way and headed upwards taking a service ladder that lead up to a narrow door cut into a solid metal bulkhead that formed one of many compartments. Just as he got halfway up there was a shrill whistle and a loud crash as an object punched through the side skin, taking a gun platform with it. The gun and its crew toppled out and off the vessel, their screams impossible to hear over the sound of grinding metal.

Tyrus bolted up the ladder as yet more rounds punched through the outer armour and caused carnage for those inside. Just above a crewman was helping people off the ladder. There was another impact and a flaming object roared overhead. It struck the crewman and in a flash of phosphorus fire he burned to ash and tumbled away. Tyrus ignored the frightful scene and clambered up to the gantry-way, heading to the next compartment, as the carnage behind continued. He flung himself through the doorway and then slammed the heavy square door shut, spinning the round capstan on its rear sealing the door. At least any fire would be contained. The next compartment he found himself is was as chaotic although seemed in better shape. He raced along, his walkway running along the middle of the vessel, about halfway up the open area. He had gotten about halfway when there was a loud explosion. The cathedral of metal heaved violently. This was followed by the sudden and hard rearing up of the ship. Tyrus, who had been flung to his front by the first impact grabbed onto the metal walkway, sliding his fingers through the holes in its metal grating and gripping tight , glad he was wearing his thick gloves. The steep angle of the craft continued to increase, others who were unable to grip[ or hold anything tumbling, along with anything else that wasn’t secured. Shells...crates...people...loose guns all came crashing down around Tyrus who groaned and half screamed out loud as the ships angle passed 70 degrees. His ship was almost vertical now. Any minute it would start slipping back.  

For the shortest of times Tyrus hung there as the ship hung too, seeming to ponder what to do. And then for the briefest of moments it seemed control was back. The angle started to reduce, and the vessel regained a level pitch. Thinking he was safe, the young Tyrus, his face streaked with blood and dirt already jumped up and started running again. The other bulkhead ahead was in reach. And that is when there was a loud thud and an object flew up behind him. He turned just in time to watch the shell bounce of a metal girder. It reached almost centre of the rounded cathedral of engineering before in a flash it burst. It barked like a wounded animal, spraying fragments of boiling hot metal around. Fire and flames licked at those caught too close. Tyrus was knocked back against the bulkhead door and felt his skin upon up on his back, blood pouring from him. He yelled loud but no one heard. The loud explosion soon died away leaving a sight of chaos that was dead and still. Metal walkways lay hanging, ripped apart. Huge tears in the outer skin flapped. Gun positions were silent. That’s when a new sound echoed around. The sound of snapping.

Like gunshots Tyrus watched the heavy, thick metal cables start snapping with whip-cracks. Heavy, arm thick ribbons of metal snapped like elastic and flicked round. He watched a lone survivor be cut in two as one snapped close to him. The brain inside the young man was working slowly, groggy from the impact with the heavy door. But it knew snapping metal bas a bad sign. Tyrus heaved himself up wanting to open the bulkhead door and run but the grinding tearing sounds behind continued. Then to his right he watched the outer hull start tearing around...rising along the wall and then up and around the top before moving under where Tyrus was stood. He looked down, watching the tear continue before it joined back with the hole that caused the first tear. He knew in that instance it was too late.

With a loud crack the ships back snapped and Tyrus watched everything behind him suddenly start moving away, replaced with a blinding glare. Before he could do anything else he felt everything give way and like that he was aware of the wind whistling past his ears. Above he watched his former home continue to tear apart in fire and smoke. Tyrus then lost consciousness. He wouldn’t be awake to watch his ship explode into fire. He wouldn’t be awake to join the pieces of debris falling towards the ground. He wouldn’t be awake as he plunged through the pea green soup that hung in the sky before he hit the murky water beneath with a splash and disappeared under.

The predator watched its prey die before she turned and slinked back into the clouds without any more thought. Yet another victim had fallen to the shark of the sky.
Fallout New Vegas – Full Speed Ahead Facing Backwards

Human nature is a funny thing. As beings we consider ourselves above the rest of the food chain. Above the brahmain...the muties...the ghouls. Yet we are all driven by the same instincts and drives that make us weak and prone to conflict. Greed. Wealth. Power. Lust. The world may have been scarred by radioactive fires but those base desires remained and they thrived in the new world. Arguments were short and bloody. If you had something someone else wanted you either sold it or they took it. The world was one of the desperate...the evil...the deadly. And if someone decided they didn’t like you the chance was a lump of lead would drill home their point. Two years ago power and greed had been on the minds of three great factions. One driven by restoring the old world; the bear. One believing in a flaud idea of unity and purity; the bull. And one believing himself to above all others, driven by his own grand plans and ideas. Two years those three made me offers each thought I couldn’t refuse. Each tempting to those base desires of greed and wealth and power. Two years ago I made my choice for better or worse. What happened next? Thats an entirly new that started where it all ended.


Fire and smoke blasted into the sky, a great bird of war flying overhead with a guttural roar.  The early dawn sun flickered off her silver skin as she raced away. For those below the war had come at last. Red splattered the grey ground, the green uniforms, the silver armour. Bullets whistled through the air and swords ringed out mixing with the screams of those around me. The great wall shock...

I woke with a start and panting, slick with the sweat brought on from the nightmare. Nightmares were common for everyone living in the wasteland. I don't think anyone slept properly. If it wasn’t what you’d seen that kept you awake, it was the threat of slavers...or bandits...or creatures finding you. It wasn't the first time id had that nightmare nor would it be my last. The events were still burned into the memories of everyone in the Mojave. The second battle of hoover dam...the great wall across the Colorado river. Both the NCR and the legion had tried to take the pre-war marvel for themselves. Both had failed. Hundreds died in a futile battle. A battle that was rigged from the start. The bull and the bear had left that day defeated...retreating...their noses bloody. Victory was secured, thanks to me, for the one that played the best game. But as I sipped from the whiskey bottle on the workbench an uneasy pit lay in my stomach. Rumours...whispers...a great atmosphere had descended on the Mojave as if something was coming. Something bigger. Something maybe worse than slavers or the NCR.

And like a hammer striking an anvil there came a knock on my door. I stared at the rusty metal sheeting as if expecting it to burst open yet it did not. For a few seconds I considered returning t9 my uneasy sleep however curiosity got the better of me. Yet another one of those human drives that cause more trouble than good. Walking to the door I pushed it open a few inches and peered out. There was no sign of anyone in the early morning light. I pushed the door open fully, my view settling on the town I now called home. The town where my journey began two years ago. Good-springs hadn't changed much apart from a few new settlers from NCR territory that moved in seeking a more simple life. A thin wind blew specks of dust and grit into the air. Everything was as it was before. But the light revealed something curious. Something that I hadn't seen in a while. A single depression in the dirt...a long line heading towards my door. No creature would create such a track. At its end, sat in front of my door, was a small round object that glittered. A single poker chip with the words 'Lucky 38' written on the front in fancy pre war writing.
Two years ago I had been the first human to set foot into that tall tower in over 200 years. A relic of pre war greed. It was there that I made the choice of what side I would be on. I chose the independent. Now I was being called back to him. His loyal terrier. I picked the chip up twisting it around my fingers. Two years ago the chip that I had in my hands was heavy and made of solid platinum. A rare treasure before the war...even rarer after it.

Of-course the pre-war world was one of many treasures. Sprawling consumerist culture. The human obsession for always more. It drained the earth dry and when there was nothing left to fight over humanity fell back on the only thing it had left. The new world remembers it as the great war. Some people call it the war to end all wars. October 23rd 2077. No one knows exactly what happened that day. Who fired first. Who fired back. In two terrible hours the earth was scorched by radioactive fire and flame. Those lucky...or in many cases...unlucky to survive in the massive pre-war fallout shelters known as vaults survived the apocalypse. Those that found themselves outside the vaults that day became ash...if they were lucky. Decades had passed. The world remained scarred and wounded...slowly healing. Humanity survived did its urges. The wasteland made most of them worse. Only one word described both the wasteland and the humans that inhabited it. Savage.

The rusted metal door shut with a clatter and I sat on what passed for a bed these days staring at the chip. Its presence meant that at-least part of the rumours were true. Otherwise why else would he call. After never really leave anyone’s service do we?


Morning had arrived at last and now that the sleepy town had woken from its slumber I pulled my long jacket close, found in the depths of a hidden valley, and wandered across the hill towards the white house overlooking the town. The Doctor inside had patched me up after an unfortunate with a 9 mil round. Just the first step on an unbelievable road. He lived alone, as did most these days. It did not do well to develop lasting attachments. A sniper friend of mine learnt that the hard way. However today I was not heading over to the docs to recover from being shot in the head but to recover a friend. Two knocks on the door and the sound of rapid barking told me that my companion was again on his feet.

“Out the way you daft mutt” came the gruff response inside. I couldn’t help but smile.

Doc Mitchell poked his head round the door and smiled slightly. Seeing it was me he opened the door fully and I was soon floored by the half metal beast that leapt at me.

“Anyone would think you were covered in brahmain steak...”
“Is it unreasonable to think he missed me?”

The doctor helped me up with hand. He was getting on these days. Having grown up in a vault he had weaker immune responses. He aged worse than most, but to hide his age he retained the shaved head he had two years ago. His eyes flickered up to the small scar on my forehead as they always did.

“Glad to see the work still holding up. Considering how much blood you pissed out onto my floor im still surprised.”
“Not the only one.”

My companion sat next to me wagging and panting softly. Rex had been previously owned but after having found him a new brain the loyal dog had followed me wherever I went. Part canine and part machine. Mans best friend indeed. However like all dogs his curiosity got him into trouble. In this case, the loyal canine picked a fight with a young bighorner and ended up with a broken leg that is. Thankfully the doc had been there to stop the mutt getting anything worse. Rex had finally gotten back on his feet. The Doc knealt down to him.

“Now don’t go picking any more fights that ya cant win you hear?”

The dog ruffed happily and wagged his tail before the doctor looked at me. I was however already flipping him a small cloth bag.

“100 caps alright?”
“That'll about cover it.”

I nodded and was going to head off when the Doctor looked at me with a piercing gaze.

“Heading off then?”
“What gave you that idea?”
“The robot that knocked on your door.”

I was about to ask how he knew but he answered me first.

“You think your the only one that hardly sleeps?”
“Well...i can at-least go see what he wants.”
“Word of advice kid.”
“Men like House like their power. Like all men with power they fear loosing it. A threat like you is safer dead. Especially to him.”
“He's had two years to kill me Doc.”
“House is patient kid. But remember he is only there because of you. Don't let him forget that.”

The Doctor gave Rex one last scratch behind the ears and wandered back into his home. The sun beat its warm rays on my back and I looked down at Rex.

“Come on boy...we have an appointment to keep.”
FNV - Full Speed Ahead Facing Backwards - CAGE
The first part of my new short story series based on the FNV wasteland after the events of the game. So far only two events are predetermined. Firstly siding with Mr House and secondly that the Brotherhood of Steel was not killed off.
So that's university career is finally more essays, reading or more annoying philosophers with stupid more academic work...

Which is sad a is a laugh mostly. I will miss the dudes and girls I studied with. I wish them all luck with their final grades.

However this means that finally I can get back to work on my projects. Because of the large number of short stories I have on the go [Fallout England, Insidious, Star Trek Skyfall and now my new Wolf Runs] I intend to create an online forum that people can join and read my stuff, post their own and read and comment. That will be sorted in the next week or so. As for right now please keep a look out for future parts of my short stories, starting with fallout England tomorrow.  


bismark236's Profile Picture
Craig Gordon AKA Fletcher
United Kingdom
Above is me

Current Residence: Leighton Buzzard, but also brighton
Relationship : best not ask really...
Favourite genre of music: D ont have one, but mostly listen to film and tv themes
Favourite photographer: Dont Have One
Favourite style of art: Dont Have one
Operating System: Prefer xp, but stuck with 7
MP3 player of choice: Any will do
Shell of choice: Any
Wallpaper of choice: ANYTHING WITH SCI FI ON IT
Skin of choice: none
Favourite cartoon character: Stewie, family guy
Personal Quote: Spray and Pray

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captshade Featured By Owner Sep 5, 2014
Ta much, for da watch!
Euderion Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks a million for the Dev-Watch!
Very glad you like my artworks!!
Have a good Day!!! :-)
bellagorilla Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2014  Student General Artist
Welcome to STOPlayers!
bismark236 Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2014
hehe thank you ^^
unusualsuspex Featured By Owner May 15, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks so much for the Added to my devWatch!, hope I can live up to your expectations!! I salute you!
bismark236 Featured By Owner May 24, 2014
oh you defo are. cool stuff...although do you only do canon stuff? your stuff is wicked and been thinking of getting my Star Trek Online ship done ^^
Borebuscus Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2014
Thx for the Fav :P
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Direrain Featured By Owner Feb 14, 2014  Hobbyist Interface Designer
My thanks for the watch!
Gunnut51 Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
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