Fallout 0

The year 2077 could have been the final curtain call for humanity, world war 3 and the unleashing of nuclear fire scorching the world's surface the same way the great flood had in the old times, restarting the world and allowing it to begin anew. Any form of government is locked away from the survivor of the great war, whether it's out in the Pacific ocean, Locked away in the Lost Hills bunker or deep in one of the vaults that dotted America. The world a scant 2 years later of 2079 has no knightly order to preserve technology, no power of the NCR bringing law and taxes to a wild land, no slave driven Caesar's legion absorbing all tribes it comes across, and no Enclave claiming to be the government of the people. This is the world of Fallout the time were humanity starts over from the ground up, things familiar to those in who lived long enough to see this stories publications will notice absences that they might be familiar with. The super mutants will not be making an appearance in this book, as they are locked away in there vault on the east coast and in the west the terror of "The Master" hasn't come to be yet, while ghouls do exist they are few in number and tended to stay away from the paranoid groups of humans who would have met there charming feral brothers and sisters, and the giant insects any citizen of the waist has become familiar with will only just be coming into being and will be a rare sight. Even the cities and landmarks we have all become so familiar with on the west coast had yet to be born. Shady Sands and the population that would rise to become the NCR is locked up tight in Vault 15, the Hub and it's clean water hasn't been discovered this is a world of movement as Caravans roam the wasteland trading with each other and the small settlements that have sprung up. This is a world without hope and it's at times like this when a hero will rise, because it's what the world needs.

Ch.1

It didn't burn anymore, the sand and dirt that covered everything. Most regions had finally cooled off; the city's most of them hit by heavy bombs and missiles were still quite hot meaning those dam vaults would still be shut. For Mark Sone it had been 2 years since he climbed out of his colleges basement his promising job as a Junior Professor in humanities gone and all of society along with it, all the college work, the tests, papers, reports, the interviews all worthless now his time in the boy scouts and camping with his father was more valuable and daily it seemed Mark would rack his brain trying to remember what lessons he learned to stay alive another day. Well for the first few months at least now he picked things up as he went, and stuck to his routine. At least the sand wasn't constantly cooking his insides anymore, he dodged the big C on that one, or maybe he didn't could be in his stomach or lungs slowly eating away at his insides. Could be worse though he had seen a few people looked like walking talking zombies, they ran whenever they saw any human approach probably afraid to be shot cant blame them so many people shot anything they didn't understand these days. Mark laughed to himself; people did that back before the great war too. another step brought pain to marks foot his boots were falling apart hence why he was heading the way he was. One of the large caravans that moved around the wasteland was set up over the next hill temporarily set up to attract traders like him they would be gone within 2 days to avoid any raider attacks and if mark didn't catch them and trade something for a new pair of boots it would be back to walking bare foot till he came across someone who was the same size as him and had shoes and the caravan would be easier then finding that! The professor in Mark seemed to wake back up as he walked trying to get his mind off the pain in his foot. How far we have fallen from houses with our own robot butlers fridges containing more food then we could eat in a day, and most importantly plumbing and toilet paper. Those 2 mark missed the most, a man who had one of the surviving rolls of toilet paper could by his own city it was the only thing Mark knew of that was more valuable then clean water at least that one could make his or her self with a water purifier.

Mark's musing about society where interrupted when the soft crunch of sand on cement changed to the pang of stepping on metal "Crap!" Mark yelled tossing his bag in one direction and jumping the other unslinging his M-101 assault rifle as he flew landing and repositioning himself as fast as possible aiming at the top of the metal covering the new Mark Sone replaced the professor in his mind this Mark was born and bred in the wastelands hell and knew only one thing how to stay alive at any cost. The shuffling from inside what was known as a spider hole got louder and the door flew open a massive thing that had once been a man burst from inside the spider hole, it looked at Mark's pack first giving Mark time to aim as the thing turned looking at Mark with a burned face shielded behind a hockey mask and wild eyes that sought only to kill it scrambled out of the spider hole bounding towards Mark wielding a machete ready to cut up and intruder and probably something it saw as dinner. Mark didn't react to the thing just squeezed the trigger and let his rifle spew metal death stitching the thing across the chest taking it down into a bloody mess on the edge of the road, mark didn't move waited a few seconds then crawled forward pressing the end of his rifle against the things deformed hairless skull and let a few more shots go spraying the ground and himself with brain matter and blood, but the blood shower was better than getting tricked by one of these things. When Mark was sure it was dead he took the machete from his hand, then dug through the Thing's pockets finding some old world drugs powder that could be heroine or cocaine, some black pills but most importantly he found some Rad X one of the last great advancements by pre war society the simple pill that helped prevent radiation poisoning. The drugs Mark could sell the Rad X were his and the machete, well mark did like the feel of it he would think about it. He stood up walking to the spider whole and pulled his maglite from his pocket holding his rifle with the other hand he dropped the maglite down into the darkness and waited to hear any sound satisfied he heard nothing from the spider whole her jumped in after it keeping his rifle ready, a cold sweat covered Marks skin when he saw what lay on the wooden boards that served as the spider hole's floor a dog tied up and drugged for easy handling and carving he took out his multi tool and cut the poor dogs legs free of the tight binds letting her stretch out, and undid her muzzle the drugged dog in a haze licked Mark's hand as a thank you before stretching blood back into its legs and letting the drugs take back over rolled over to fall asleep. Satisfied the dog was fine mark climbed back out and got his back giving the body of the Thing a good kick for hurting the poor dog, leaving him for the roaches and whatever else was hungry in the wasteland tonight, before sliding into the spider hole again the sun was well on its way down and kissing the edge of the horizon Mark decided to make camp here for the night hopefully the caravan would still be there. He shined the light on the dog making sure she was still asleep and the light caught her collar and tag, curious mark rand his fingers along the letters as he read off.

Dogmeat

If found call Max at

1-041-219-7993

So his new friends name was Dogmeat she was a mutt but mostly a wolf mixed with something, interesting name at least. Mark settled in cooking up some cram and instamash giving some to Dogmeat with some of his water who woke up as soon as the smell of food hit her nose. He drank his one bottle of clean water and used his purifier to make up another for tomorrow. Before covering the spider hole back up and turning in and falling asleep Dogmeat cuddling up resting her head on his stomach claiming him as hers.

Ting ting ting ting ting was what woke mark up the next morning and a low growl from Dogmeat, whatever was up there it was big and it wasn't human. It moved off the metal covering towards the body of the Thing, he eased up gently opening the covering and peering out, what he saw was without a doubt the most terrifying thing since horror movies were a thing, a giant scorpion about the size of a cow looked back at him it didn't move towards him as it already had a nice big meal in the body of the thing but it eyed Mark curiously wondering if he was a threat. Mark slid back down into the spider hole and took out a grenade from his pack he hated bugs but that giant things claw and tail would be worth a dam good pair of boots and probably more and he wanted those boots. Mark pulled the pin and brought his rifle up with him, sliding out a bit more this time and rolled the grenade across the ground satisfied when it landed right behind the big scorpion, and slid back down into the hole checking his rifle he reloaded slamming an extra clip into the assault rifle. And after the explosion counted to 3 before jumping out ready to fire the scorpion slammed it's claws in the dirt still alive but it's tail blown off mark pointed the rifle at the things face not wanting it to get any closer and fired filling it with lead and didn't let go of the trigger until the gun went click. He reloaded and waited for the thing to move again, but it didn't cautiously he got out of the hole looking around for more and finding none he poked the scorpion with his rifle, no movement taking the machete from his belt he swung and cut off the scorpions largest claw then the other and smiled to himself, "Just like crab" he said aloud as he set to dissecting the monster he let out a few legs the claws and what was left of the tail letting the blood slide out of them as he jumped back into the spider hole, Dogmeat looked at him curiously and he winked at her telling her she was a good dog and giving her ears a scratch. Mark took stock of what the thing had stored down here, a few bottles of some kind of cheap wine, some more bags of random drugs, he took what was worth taking some salt, 2 prewar magazines, and just before he left something caught his eye taking out his flashlight he shined it on words scratched into a piece of wood. "the Order of the Burned" Shaking his head mark helped Dogmeat out of the hole and taking a look around started off. He whistled and Dogmeat came to join him walking obediently by his side she liked this human so far after all he fed her, he wasn't as fun as Max but at least he was nice, and most importantly he would scratch her ears she liked that so much. Mark and Dogmeat heard the caravan before they came upon them terrible music filled the wasteland, and when mark saw the caravan realized this wasn't going to be the ideal group to trade with not that he had much choice.

As far as he knew 5 major caravan groups traveled the wasteland, The Triple Ring Circus and trade who were probably the best to trade and travel with made up of solders, and entertainers they put on their show with a large enough group and had some of the most interesting traders with them and prided themselves on giving the best price and the best show they would have loved the scorpion parts he brought them.

Then there was the USMC United States Military Caravan lead by Colonel Jackson Tomas Lee who lashed together any military man or woman who he could find Army, Air Force, Marines, Navy, even Coast Guard and forged them into a moving army they were probably the safest to travel with but You had to sign up and take a loyalty oath to do it. trade with them was challenging they always tried to under sell you but at least they were honest about the quality of what they gave you still they had dam good boots.

Third best was "Drifters market" they would have been the best for Mark today, made up of tradesmen craftsmen and specialists. from cobbler, blacksmiths, seamstresses, riflemen, they weren't the largest group but they put out the best quality products and were seen by many as the best even if they weren't as heavily armed as the top 2 they also had scientists traveling with them studying the wasteland, Mark could have sold the scorpion parts to them and got himself the best pair of boots in the caravan.

Then there was the group before Mark and Dogmeat, they called them self Coexist trade and travel named from one o those bumper stickers that was so popular before the war, after the war the major religions had taken a big hit while many priests of all religions tried to keep their church open they found themselves constantly being raided by those with nothing. That lead to this caravan it was well armed and full of all religions Muslims, Christians, Jews, Monks of all kind. He could see them screaming their sermons already over the religious bands that played It would be hard for mark to sell what he had he couldn't see them having much need for the scorpion bits and who know what quality they had in boots and shoes. They were ruled by a religious counsel the eldest of all the religious who argued about everything and only agreed to move when danger was spotted. This entire caravan's job was to heal your spirit not a major emphasis on trading only what they needed to get by for most of the traders anyway he was going to have to talk up whoever he met.

The only caravan worse than this one would have been the Folsom Trade group named from the prison most of the members came from it was said the rest were crooked businessmen and car salesmen. it was only one step above the gangs most wanderers tried to avoid the toughest and biggest rip off in all the waists they went to the most hard to get to and out of the way regions in the waists to take advantage of the people who were cut off but needed to trade to stay alive they were also the only major caravan known to sell women buy and sell women. They claimed all the Women were volunteers but most were just drugged up and had no real idea what was happening just knowing this was going to get them more drugs.

Mark sighed stepping closer to Coexist Dogmeat following, her nose sniffing the air smelling the food being cooked, he checked in with the gate guard at the entrance to the caravans circle paid his toll in old prewar script still worth something for now but only for official things like this. Mark looked around at all the different stands and preachers and finally found what he was looking for Holy Bible sales and trade run by the fattest man Mark had seen post great war, the poor stool he was "sitting" on seemed to be engulfed by his ass he was drooling over the can of cram he was trying to get open, but most importantly he had a few pairs of boots on his display. Mark walked up and sweet talked the fat idiot by calming the scorpion meat was a mutated crab so sweet and delicious it would not only feed him but make him rich selling bits just be careful as it was a poison land crab hence the stinger he promised to throw in the drugs he picked up off the thing as well to sweeten the deal. The fat idiot bought it hook line and sinker and Mark walked away with a fine pair of boots, some good quality ammo clips, 2 grenades to replace the one used to kill the scorpion, some dog food for Dogmeat, and some cram, instamash, and even a bottle of nuka cola he went to the blacksmith and got the machete sharpened he would keep it after all and looked at the other shops. The moron had never even asked mark if he was going to become rich selling scorpion meat why hadn't Mark done it, just been so eager to have seafood again. Mark made his way to the caravan bar called Holy Water; he ordered a glass of the local brew and listened to the religious music, he motioned for the bartender to come over the man was a Hasidic Jew and although he had given up the black thick black clothes had settled on a black t-shirt with black pants and kept his cornrows and black hat. The old man leaned in close to hear Mark over the religious music.

"Ever hear of The Order Of The Burned?"

The bartender looked at him with concern through his old eyes "Why?"

"Found it on a carving in a spider hole"

The bartender shook his head "Yea I've heard of them, lead by Foley Dismas a blond haired mad man who claim god spoke to him when the bombs fell, that he blessed all those who were scorched by atomic fire, they were the chosen people who would give birth to the master race. All they have to do is kill everyone not burned and rape every woman they come across, unless they are particularly beautiful then they go to him as part of his harem."

Mark nodded at that information making a mental note to stay away from the Order of the Burned and settled into his drink starting to enjoy the messages about god, and life and having a pretty good day when a shot rang out. Mark spun around grabbing his rifle but hardly anyone else moved, everything just got quiet as they all looked at the young man who just a moment ago had been sitting my a fire watching his meal cook and as the smoking gun in his hand showed had put a bullet in his brain the moment after. Mark spun back around looking at the bartender for an answer, but he just shook his head.

"We call it reaching your limit, even in the holy caravan god punishes us, most can't take it and it's just a matter of time before we all reach our limit and wind up putting a gun to our own head."

Mark looked at him with shock on his face; the old man just went on

"Don't look so surprised traveler, the world has gone to hell even in these big caravans we feel it, it's all over and the radiation is slowly killing us all it's impossible to find clean water anymore unless you're lucky enough to have bottles from the pre war other than that your living off one bottle a day from whatever purifier you got what are you going to do when that breaks down traveler?"

Mark didn't have an answer for the old timer he turned around and watched the friends of the suicide carry him off for a burial, suddenly the day had gotten worse and Mark needed to get away from this caravan before he caught whatever was going through these people. Paying the bartender he whistled for Dogmeat to follow and headed out of the caravan's camp into the hills letting his mind wonder again it settled on one of his favorite stories growing up Pandora's box. When it was opened the box, a jar actually released all the evils on the world plague, disease, death, murder, pain only hope was left in the box for humanity he had long wondered why hope was in a jar of evils as had most of those who read this poem. Now Mark found himself wondering what if, there was just no hope at all just the evil this jar had been opened by nuclear fire and mans foolishness. Hope now meant a chance to see a future and for so many there was none at least not for him and the others on the surface. Below them the vaults were shut tight keeping humanity safe, the cities once the centers of culture were now in kayos burning and what people stayed acted like animals. Rumors were all that was left of the once powerful American government he had heard from, somewhere they were in a secret base in the pacific. And a few people claimed to see solders in power armor walking west from Mariposa headed god knows were. The old world was gone and that's it, we are all starting over Mark Sone is a caveman now; a caveman with an assault rifle.

In another place

The part of his brain that was still sane screamed for him to turn around and go back inside he hadn't committed any crime it hadn't been living after all, but it was harder for him to hear that part of his mind any more as he stepped out into the wasteland a smile crossed his face as the sunlight touched him again and in his hand the vault boy puppet seamed to smile wider as the Puppet Man took his first steps.