Author Note: This fic is a weird combination of my idleness, a half thought out plot, and sicking amounts of free time at my new job. We'll see what come from it, maybe writing this one chapter will get it out of my system. Who knows haha.
April 2052, that's when the war started, a lack of petroleum sparks the world's nations into conflict. China invades Alaska in the winter of 2066, The US fights back, using Canada's resources depleteling their economy. February 2076 the US annexs Canada and eleven months later reclaims Alaska, it seemed like the war would finally be over, people began to hope that peace would soon follow.
October 23, 2077 the day the world ended. A global nuclear strike occurs, history has forgotten who fired the first missle, but with-in two hours most, if not all, major cities have been destroyed. Effectively ending the Resource War, and human civilization. The world falls apart, people flee underground to escape the radiation, animals and plants die or mutate, hell begins.
100 Years Later
Life isn't easy for anyone out in wasteland, the Ohio wasteland is no different. Whoever thought Columbus was worthy of nuclear strike? Cincinatti hadn't faired much better, along with a handful of seemly random towns that got atomized over a century ago. No life wasn't easy anywhere, but there was still life.
Kurt Hummel groaned, weary from working all night on the water filtration system. He caught sight of himself in a dingy puddle that formed around his boots, it was not one of his better looks. Sweat and grime plastered his hair to his face, in the most unflattering way possible, his normally vivid blue eyes were dull, rimmed with red aggitation that came from pulling long hours, worst of all his skin was covered in 'god knows what', which he knew was not going to be good for his complexion.
"Of all the days for this rust bucket of a town to spring a leak..." Kurt grumbled, wipeing from dirt from his cheek with his equally dirty sleave. "Same day Dad has to go out scouting with Finn... no it's fine... a seventeen year old can easily keep a city from dehydrating." Kurt snarked to himself, giving the wrench he was using one final tug to tighten the last bolt. Wasting no time he jogged over to the pump system and pressed a few buttons with faded labels, crossing his fingers as he hoped.
Silence, then a great roar from the machines around him, followed by the gushing sound of water filling the pipes surronding the dark matience tunnels. Kurt slumped down on the filthy ground and let out a ragged sigh of relief, "Thank Atom..." He indulged in a quiet moment to himself, just listening to the now, albeit temporarily, working water system. Standing, somehow finding his tired feet under him, Kurt walked down the long creeky path ways that ran under the settlement before getting to the service entrance he used to get in.
Fresh air, well toxic radioactive air, filled his lungs as he was greeted by the newly rising sun. The sleepy settlement of McKinley laid bare before him in the first wee hours of the day. The town was nothing more than a collective of barely held together scrap metal huts and dilapidated houses, surrounded by a 25 foot wall of metal that was savanged from cars, fallen planes, you name it. Everthing, from the ironic welcome sign by the gates to the always lacking general suply store, was covered in a fine layer of dust, even the town cat was dusty.
Kurt took it all in, wishing he could name one thing about the place he liked. It was small, dark, and dirty, lacking in any charm concieved by man. Still it was home, there aren't many safe places in the wasteland so you can't be picky. He had read books, pre-war books, that told of large sprawling cities, flashing lights, and dreams of tomorrow. That's where his heart was, he could feel it, in those shining cities of the past.
Kurt took a deep breath and scanned the town once more before heading home, "Dreams are for sleeping... which sounds good right about now." He smiled to himself. Well needed rest was soon to come, right after a shower...or three.
Rachel Berry was a star, someone meant to be adored by millions, or so she thought. Being the only daughter of two loving fathers, or commited friends as society viewed them, gave her a skewed view of life. So while she sang on the lonely and bare stage of McKinley's only tavern, she pictured in her head she was in a recital hall filled with cheering crowds instead of the few drunks slouched on the bar.
She was singing with every once of her soul, trying to find the beauty in herself despite the bleek setting of her life. She was singing for every person who could hear her, trying to save what little humanity was left in the wastelanders. She was singing because what else can you do to remain sane in a world filled with death.
Rachel Berry IS a star damnit, and one day people are going to know it.
Hunting for mole rats, and running from Raiders. Finn Hudson peered over the formation of rocks he was crouched behind, watching for any sign of movement. He was out scouting for supplies with Burt once again, and it was going as smoothly as ever. So very badly.
A shot rang out through the still air and a bit of rock an inch away from Finn's head shattered. He ducked again and let out a shaky breath. Being pinned down by a nasty group of Raiders was seriously a lame way to start the day. He adjusted his rifle and popped his head back up over the rock feature and took aim.
"I'm going to kill Puck for switching shifts..." he squeezed the trigger and watched as the distant figure fell to the ground, "If we make it back that is..."
Mercede just finished sweeping up her family's clinic when she heard the singing. "Damn white girl always showing off." She grumbled and looked out the broken window at the tavern next door. Rachel Berry was seranading the degenerates in the drowsey hours of the morning, like she was every waking minute of the day.
"Can't a girl get any peace... you'd think a nuclear apocolypes would keep things quiet." The brassy girl huffed as she set her broom in a corner. If she was being honest with herself she'd realize she was jealous. She'd love nothing more than to be up on stage, booting Berry off of course, and belt out some of her favorite songs.
Today is not an honest day though, today is a working day, like every day before. "Don't get you're head in the clouds..." People need caring for in the Wasteland, and that's what he family did, who had time for singing anyway?
Artie was up before the crack of dawn, being handicapable in the dog eat dog world of the wasteland meant you had to prove you were useful. He floated about the sleepy town of McKinley in a chair he fashioned from an out of commission , it afforded him the most mobility he could manage. He was deputy of McKinley, a bit young and clearly not the most expected candidate, a job he held with pride.
"Watch out criminals! You can run but you can't hide!" He slapped the side of his chair and sped forward down the makeshift street. There was no real crime to be stopped but the town seemed to inspire a need for a dramatic flair. Dumpsters and empty alley ways turned into Super Mutants and Slaver Camp Sights. A bullet shot from one of the many appendages of the robot that carried him, scareing away a stray dog, causing it to yip and yelp as it ran.
"Woah... maybe taking that much Jet wasn't a good idea..." He laughed and shook his head to clear the pounding in his mind, "Sorry..." he called out the retreating animal before returning to his 'patrol'. Yeah, McKinley was just full of excitment.
Tina cursed as she heard a gun shot close to her window, "Damn it Artie..." she mumbled, still half asleep. The shop wasn't open for at least another three hours and she'd be damned if she was getting up before then.
"Who thought giving him a gun was a good idea..." She yawned and settled back into a cozy slumber. She'd give him a piece of her mind later, putting on a bright and smiling face to the few customers the general store had was tough enough on a full nights sleep.
"Zzzzz welcome to CC-Supplies...how can I help you..." She snored and was lost to the world.
Will Schuster sat by his window and watched the sun rise. The faint static of the radio on the table beside him was the only sound filling the room; save for the tapping of his pencil. He looked out at town, his home, and sighed heavily. Decreped, falling apart, dieing. He pictured McKinley when he was a boy, still ugly at the best of times, but at least then it was filled with hope.
Time pasted however, Raiders attacked more frequently, the N.O.R. took control of the area to the north and fewer trader visited the settlement. The town was just dieing.
He looked past the wall that surrounded the settlement and out onto the horrizon of the Ohio Wasteland. Scattered power lines, broken cars, endless roads to nowhere. He stared, for what felt like eternity, he stared and stared, searching for answers in the nothingness.
His hand moved to the radio, ready to turn it off, then stopped. "Oh..." it was so simple...
It was so simple, "UP AND ATOM LADIES!" a loud commanding voice called out over a crackling P.A. System.
The simple elegance of perfectly formed rows of loyal well trained soldiers lining up for morning training. Sue Slyvester commanded the largest, most efficient, and well armed mercenary forces in the area. It was her job to keep order, and she did it well. Sometimes the work was thankless, but then she would just forget to patrol a ceretain area, maybe let a few Raiders slip her notice to less generous settlements. They'd be begging for her help in no time.
Her main head quarters was a mile away from McKinley, and she served as the main protector of the city in exchange for supplies and monitary tribute. She liked the town the way it was, quiet and docile. Quiet settlements were the easiest to keep in control.
"Getting sloppy, fifty more laps!" She yelled into her megaphone, sending her troops around the long abandoned high school they used as a base. She sat back and watched her monkeys dance for her, being in control was so good.
Blaine Anderson lived his whole life in a bubble. Well it wasn't so much a bubble as it was a vault. A deep underground refuge for the wealthy and lucky. Hundreds of Vaults lay hidden under the wasteland, pre-war fallout shelters that housed dozens or hundreds of people. For decades the residents lived safely from the harsh reality of the wastes.
He was greatful, really he was, for being given the chance to safely grow up, always having clean water and food to eat. He knew that thousands of unlucky souls fought everyday for what came so easily to him. Others didn't have the luxery of a full length mirror, or hair care products, or even running water.
So why, as he looked over his reflection, did he feel so restless. His hair neatly styled and gelled back, his blazer and tie tight, fitted. He was getting ready to sing in the lounge area of the Vault, like he did everyday. At seventeen Blaine was the #1 crooner of Vault 237, a profession not easily accepted by his father, but he was happy to be able to do what he loved.
"Why do I feel like I'm suffocating?" He sighed, adjusting his already perfect tie for the sixth time.
"Because you make that tie tigher every five seconds..." A taller boy, Wes, said entering the room. "Come on Anderson... no time to waste. Your public awaits."
Blaine turned and smiled at his friend, and unoffical manager, "They can wait a while longer then. You can't rush art." he gave him a playful wink before going over his appearance one last time in the mirror.
"David and the others are stalling but the Vault knows what it wants." Wes chided, "Day dreaming is for people without obligations." he tapped his watch in an exaggerated way to boast the effect of his message.
"Yes mother... wouldn't want a bunch of engeneers angry at me... " Blaine strolled past him, confident. "They might shut off my water...or fill my room with toxic gas"
"You joke now, but just wait for the day they really do it. How would you do your hair...or breath?" Wes followed in stride.
"My dear Wesley, I long for the day something happens here." Blaine let his eyes wander the too familiar hallways of Vault 237. Drab, lifeless, and frankly boring, maybe he was a fool, maybe this is where his happiness is meant to be found.
Stepping out from behind the curtains of the lounge, standing in front of 'The Warblers', his back up band, Blaine did feel happy. He got to sing for a living, he was allowed to be safe in the vault, he was indebted to the faceless gods of luck which gave him this ideal life among a dead world.
Maybe that's was the problem. Blaine wanted to make something for himself, something that was his, something that proved he was worth more than 10 cap winks and a million dollar voice.
He grabbed the microphone before him, staring at the crowd smiling, eagerly waiting for him to start. Something clicked, something small but still profound
in his mind. Blaine looked out and saw past the people, past the steel walls of the vault, past everything he knew about the world. He decided, tomorrow he would leave the vault.
Author Note: Prologue finished. Really I just used it as a place to dump character descriptions and some useless back story. I have no idea how this will be recieved, not even sure how I feel about it. We'll see what happens. Also please note that I am usually typing these at 3 a.m. at the motel where I work, and I have no beta (hint) so errors WILL occur... I am deeply shamed by them haha.
Anyway please comment. Comments = Chapters lol
