Prologue

Hello.

I am a monster. No, I don't mean the kind of monster children are afraid to find under their beds, but nevertheless, a monster. I am a different kind of monster. The kind that breaks bones, takes lives, mostly from those who deserve it, but, at times, from those who don't. I walk the dusts of the Wasteland, fists clenched and insanity clawing at the outer reaches of my mind, hoping to atone for those lives that were lost due to my actions, and inaction. I am getting ahead of myself, though.

Perhaps I should start with my name. It's Paul. I was born in a vault, and was told I would die in that very vault, though it seems the chances of that are rather slim from the angle I'm sitting at. I grew up there, I was a member of that vault, but it was never my home. I did not belong there, and I never would, no matter how hard I tried. I remember the clothes I wore: a baggy, blue jumpsuit with a large, yellow "101" emblazoned on the back, which was just a banner that all others could fall under, minus me.

"A model citizen", they called me after I strapped the green screened computer on my wrist at my tenth birthday party.

"You are just like your father!" they said when the G.O.A.T. foretold that I would be following the same career path.

I am neither of those things.

Maybe, though, I am like my mother, whom I never met.

My father always told me about her. She was passionate, and had a heart big enough for two people. He said that when she died right after my birth, part of her heart was left in me, too. I don't know much of it, though. I can be a very chilling individual when the need arises, so it couldn't have been more than a fraction.

I am very passionate about what I do, however. What do I do? Well, you'll learn much about that later.

She was the first of the blood on my hands. The second was later in my life. The third would follow soon after, due to cowardice, and the rest would become innumerable.

Chapter One

A Steel Honeycomb

Despite what you may have discovered out in the Wasteland, not all of the Vaults were death-traps. Some were nice places to live, that is, until something goes wrong. They are a few things, though. They are cold, metallic, and almost lonely when you learn that there is indeed a world that isn't more than a handful of people all huddling in a bunker. Nevertheless, some are safe. I emphasize some. Vault 101 was one of those shelters that was not entirely meant for experimentation, and I was fortunate enough to live my childhood inside of one.

My earliest memory of Vault 101 was of my time as a toddler. Everything else before that was just a blur, almost blank, save for the hushed whispers of distant conversations that were only the fragmented memories of a baby.

"Hey, hey, Paulie!" my father sweetly beckoned me as my gaze went from the assorted toys and other children around me to him. He sighed and smiled as my eyes focused. "Look at daddy, over here!" He stood at the other side of the room, seemingly as tall as a giant to my young self, clad in a white lab coat. If I remember one thing about my dad, it was that he always wore that lab coat. It suited him.

I tried to form an actual word (don't ask me what it was, it's hard enough to remember this as it is) and failed. Instead, I opted to spout babble, with, "Dada," placed somewhere I believe. Fun fact that was my favorite thing to say at the time.

It was also the only thing I knew how to say.

Instinctively, I began to push myself off the ground and onto my feet as my father continued.

"Come on, right over here. Show everyone how well you can walk." He continued to instruct.

I looked around at the wide open room. Many other adults, none of which I knew at the time, were all eyeing me, faces solid with either doubt or anticipation. Like monoliths they stood, muttering to each other as to not distract my small mind from my father.

The ground was cold under my bare feet. It always was. In all honesty, the whole vault was pretty damn cold. I have no idea why they kept it that way, but I'm pretty sure I had never felt a temperature above sixty degrees for nineteen years. You can imagine that it was like diving headlong into a furnace when I finally did see the outside world, but I digress.

"You're almost there!" my father said as he crouched down and motioned for me to walk. "Just a few more steps." he clapped a little and continued to motion for me.

I carefully placed one foot in front of the other. Slowly and steadily, I repeated the process, never taking my eyes off the dark-haired doctor until I was halfway across the room.

"I bet he falls, watch him." A woman spoke sourly, her words slightly slurred.

"Oh hush, DeLoria, your son hasn't even managed to go two steps yet." The elderly woman next to her chastised.

DeLoria huffed, then glared intensely at the older woman.

She sighed. "Just let someone else have the spotlight for just a while, okay?" She suggested lightly.

A mere few steps separated me from my goal when I began to stumble. I tried to maintain my balance, but my legs buckled beneath me, and I collided with the ground in spectacular failure.

You can guess that my next action was to wail for all that I was worth.

My father, being as he was, immediately jerked, desperate to help me up. He hesitated, though, which gave me all the time I needed.

Again, with tears still streaming down my cheeks, I pushed myself off the ground to chase after that lab coated giant before me. I wasn't about to stop when I was so close, not when my father was almost within my grasp.

My father recoiled as his arms were already reaching out to me to help me when I rose to my feet once again. He smiled proudly as I shakily wandered towards him again, with renewed intensity.

I reached out for his hands as I began to stumble, and he caught me.

"Great job, pal!" he chuckled as I bounced with glee. "You're a little fighter aren't you? Won't let a stumbling block get in your way, huh? Not even a little fall could put a stop to you!" he congratulated me as I proceeded to put my own hand in my mouth. He stood up and exhaled, still smiling. "Catherine, you should see your son." He whispered under his breath.

In the next few moments I found myself being lifted into the air and cradled close to his chest. "Your mom would be so happy right now, seeing you walk in front of everyone like that. Now, she wouldn't have let you fall," he explained, no doubt forgetting I had no idea what he was saying. "Not like I did," he mumbled but still retaining humor, "She would've been there before you could even think about falling."

A series of coordinated dings sounded in the room, breaking my attention from my father. The other giants all turned their gaze to the rotund transparency just above us as a voice began to fill the air.

"James Carver, would you please report to my office, please?"

The giants looked at each other, confused and worried.

"Yes, you can bring your son. Please do, in fact. You don't have to leave him down below this time." He advised, then concluded his directive with a crackle of static.

"Oh boy." my father groaned. "Guess the man upstairs wants to talk." he explained as he walked over to the large, metal door leading to the adjacent room. "Say bye-bye to all the others okay?" The door slid upwards with a hiss and a clank. He turned with me in his arms, and only grinned when I looked at him blankly.

Then, the door closed and locked itself, and we were alone in the stairwell.

"Alphonse, what is it this time?" My dad muttered, somewhat irritably. We frequented the Overseer's office, although I had no idea what for. All I cared about was being able to play with Amata, my best friend. She was the same age as I, as were all the other children in the vault, curiously enough. Amata, though, was the only one I was interested in associating with. I didn't want bother with the others, and they didn't care much for me either.

My father trudged up the stairs, and despite being only a year old, I could send his distaste for the situation. His face read out his emotions aloud, and they were at a reading level even someone without a knowledge of how to read could understand.

His face was written in a language everyone understands, I suppose.

When he reached the top of the stairs, we rounded the corner and continued across a walkway, and into another hallway. Windowed rooms lined the corridor, though I made no effort to see what was in them at the time. My father passed them quite quickly as well, much faster than my young mind could comprehend.

The door to the Overseer's office slid upwards into the ceiling above, and my father took a deep breath. "You wanted to see me, sir?" He asked, knowing full well that Alphonse had summoned him.

"Yes, I believe I spoke with you yesterday about..." He began, not intending to finish his sentence.

"Hmm? Oh, of course." He remembered, bouncing me in his arms.

Alphonse, as stern as ever, looked directly at me, eyes conveying his indifference towards me. "Well, if we are to get started, then I suggest you set your son down over there, in the pen." He instructed, then pointed to the corner of the room.

My father complied without a single protest, and hurriedly set me down. I wasn't a very big fan of the sudden separation of us, but I was able to forgive it as Amata was also in the pen with me.

She was reading a colorful book, one that I had a copy of as well. The cover read, "You're S.P.E.C.I.A.L.!", and displayed the Vault-Tec mascot, thumb extended and grinning as always. Throughout the thick, cardboard-like pages, he would be displayed in different poses and fashions, all relating back to the acronym for which the book was named.

I enjoyed looking at the colorful illustrations, and Amata did as well. Every page had an indention where you could rotate an unseen circle until it read a number form one to ten. I was never one for the numbers, as they didn't seem very important to me.

It's not as if some numbers or arbitrary stat points determine your life anyway.

The rest of the day was just a blur as Amata and I played for an unknown amount of time. The time from then to my tenth birthday was rather dull. Though, this may also be rather dull, but I'll try to explain it in a way that keeps you interested.

The morning of my tenth birthday, my father woke me up, saying that we had to get ready because something was happening in the diner. I wasn't sure what it was, so I hurried and got my ready.

"Brush your teeth, tie your shoes, make your bed, put on a jumpsuit that isn't wrinkled, and comb your hair for God's sake!" he said as he looked out of the room and down the hallway. "You weren't raised in a barn, you were raised in a vault."

Once I was ready, we left our small vault room and headed up to the cafeteria. I could see from down the hall that the lights were off, which was only slightly worrying after all the stories I had heard rumors about the Overseer actually being a cannibal and eating kids in the cafeteria when no one was around.

Fun fact, I started that rumor, but I'll continue without delving into that too much.

As we approached, I saw something move inside the room and smiled. I knew what was going on. I didn't expect what happened next, though. The light of a thousand suns vomited into my eyes all at once and I couldn't see a thing for at least five seconds. Along with the disorienting light, many familiar voices shouted, "Surprise", all at once.

Another voice, belonging to Officer Gomez complained about the dangers of such sudden lights to everyone eyesight. Stanley, who was standing next to the light switch, laughed it off without a second thought.

"Happy birthday, Paul!" my dad said while he patted me on the back and handed me a party hat. I strapped to my head as he continued. "I hope I didn't ruin the surprise last week when I..."

"Hello there." a tired, almost irritated sounding voice said to me from behind. It belonged to the gray-haired Overseer of Vault 101, Alphonse Almodovar, the father of my best friend, Amata. "I guess I don't need to tell you how important today is, young man." he said condescendingly.

"Good guess." I replied in a snarky voice.

My father flicked me on the back of my head. "Behave."

Alphonse chuckled, feigning entertainment, or possibly approval at my moxie. "Down here in Vault 101, when you turn ten years old, you're ready for a few responsibilities." he spoke as if he were reading a card. The only reason he wasn't was because he had said it several times already, I'm sure. "I present to you, your very own Pip-Boy 3000." He said in a very unenthused tone.

In the old Overseer's hand was a metal, almost tube-like device. It had a screen, which was dark at the time, a wheel at the top right with labeled categories next to it, a Geiger counter, a speaker as well as a radio, and some sort of tape holder on top. I took it from his hand and fastened it around my arm, the back of it snapping together with a satisfying "click." I pressed the power button just below the screen, and the wrist computer blinked to life. The screen was instantly filled with green text scrolling upwards, a boot sequence. Once it was done, the Vault-Tec mascot appeared and animated into his signature thumb up and eerily smiling pose.

"Go wild. It's a big deal." The Overseer spoke up again after a few moments. He turned on his heel and walked away saying that I, "would receive my first job assignment tomorrow." He sat down in one of the booths, across from Old Lady Palmer.

My father shook me, as my eyes had been glued to the screen of my new device for a little too long. "Hey, you can mess with it later. Enjoy the party!"

"Happy birthday!" said Amata cheerily, who was running from the other side of the room where her father was. She had one of her hands behind her back and swiped one strand of her hair out of her face with the other, only for it to fall back down again. "We sure surprised you, didn't we? It was all my idea! The party!" she said triumphantly.

"I wasn't surprised." I said turning my nose up into the air. "Nice try though." I snorted in the most obnoxious manner I could muster.

"Yeah, whatever!" Amata said with a fake pouting look on her face. "Don't you want to know what I got you?" she rocked from side to side with a grin on her face. She had a rather distinctive object behind her back and was doing a poor job of hiding it.

"It wouldn't be comic book, would it?" I asked, feigning surprise.

"Wrong! It's a..." Amata made a face, and I could almost hear the machinations in her head firing on all pistons. "Yeah...it's a...how did you know?" She asked, genuinely surprised.

I raised an eyebrow and opened my mouth.

The "You cheated." She said, faking a frown. "Hmph! Well, I don't know if Grognak the Barbarian would approve of cheaters. In fact, I think he wouldn't like them very much!" She teased. "Guess I oughta keep it for myself..."

"Yeah, well I bet he isn't happy about you being so ditzy, either." I reached out and grabbed it. I opened it to page one immediately, seeing the axe-wielding hero in all his brutish glory. Even to this day, I still have that same comic, as well as a wealth of others. "Thanks a lot, Amata!" I said "Where did you find it though? Does the vault have a hidden comic factory that I don't know about?" I gasped, thinking I had already solved the mystery.

"No, I found that in a box of my dad's old things." she said scratching her head. "Who would've thought that my dad had things like that? He's so..." she searched for a word.

"Old?" I interjected.

"Yeah." she laughed. "Y'now, that hidden comic factory gives me an idea though. There could be one!"

I looked at her, puzzled. "What?"

"I mean, he had to get it from somewhere, right? The vault's been closed for 200 years!" she explained. "We should go look for it!"

I really had no say in the matter. Once she had an idea in her head, there was no talking her out of it and it led to a disaster more often than not. Amata always had a strange way of getting me in trouble, and I usually tried to help get us out but it ended up making things worse. Ah, how naive we were.

At the counter, Andy, the resident Mr. Handy (a property of General Atomics International) was preparing to cut the birthday cake, with his buzz-saw no less. I don't know who had the bright idea of giving a butler robot a cutting tool like that, but I would absolutely love to meet them. Andy lowered his spindly, metal arm with the buzz-saw, well, buzzing, and onto the cake.

"Andy!" Amata shouted out only a second too late. The cake was mutilated and thrown about. The wreckage brought about by the 'bot had set about a rather awkward silence in the room. I was a little upset, but I didn't (and still don't) see how the cake was ruined. It was just as good, only a fair bit less pretty on the outside.

I strolled over to the remains of the fluffy dessert, scooped up a bite, and tasted it. I gave it a thumbs up and everyone just looked at my father.

"He's your son alright." Old Lady Palmer said as she burst into laughter. It was contagious, as everyone else started laughing as I took another bite, my father joining in. The tone had instantly changed in the room as a few more came up to take a bit to their plate. It was a sight to see. Everyone was laughing and having a good time, with mushed dessert and disproportionate amounts of cake and icing.

I wandered and mingled, receiving a few more gifts, like a baseball cap from and a lengthy explanation about the process of repairing a Pip-Boy from Stanley, a sweet-roll from Old Lady Palmer, which almost immediately drew attention from Butch DeLoria, the local vault bully. I usually referred to him as "Bitch" though, which was juvenile, but it got under his skin all the same.

"Hey!" Butch called out to me from a booth where he sat with his two lackeys, Wally Mack and Paul Hannon. "Gimme that sweet-roll!" he said pointing to it in my hand. "I want some cake!"

I wasn't going to just hand it over, obviously. Even at only ten years old, I had already begun to have a sarcastic streak, and Butch of course was a common victim.

Not a chance, Butch. You're already staring the zipper on your jumpsuit anyway." I said taking a bite of the sweet-roll and then grinning at him.

The next thing I knew, Butch had punched me square in the face, right in the nose. He pushed me onto the ground and was on top of me in the next second. I blocked his fists, and took a shot at him. My hand connected to his chest and pushed him back a little, throwing him off-balance.

I took another swing at him, hitting him right in the jaw. His face was red with fury, as were his eyes because he had started crying after the first hit. He rushed at me and I braced myself for the impact, but he was cut short by an arm.

"Butch DeLoria, what on earth has gotten into you?!" Officer Gomez bellowed as he held Butch in front of him. He pushed him away and pointed to a booth in the corner of the room. "Go!" said Gomez as he pointed again. Butch sniffled and walked away, rubbing his jaw. He sat down and pouted, with the look of utter defeat on his face.

"Are you alright, Paul? He didn't...Shi-...um...Shoot." Gomez turned around quickly and grabbed a few napkins and handed them to me. "Here, your nose is bleeding." I looked down and there was blood dripping onto the ground, so I covered my nose and tilted my head back.

"Come on, let's sit down." Amata came over and led me to where she was sitting before. "Your dad will be back in a minute, he said he had to go see Jonas about something."

He must have slipped out when I wasn't looking.

Soon after, my dad re-entered the room, with a smile on his face that disappeared when he saw me; nose in the air with a napkin held over it.

"Can't leave for five minutes, can I?" he said as he used the PA system to call Jonas.

The speaker on the wall popped and crackled as Jonas answered. "What's going on, Doc?"

"We'll...uh...be a few minutes. Paul has a nosebleed." he sighed. "No doubt from a fight." he mumbled under his breath.

"Did he win?" Jonas asked, genuinely interested.

"Probably not."

Once my nose had stopped bleeding, my Dad told me to head downstairs to Jonas and that he had a surprise for me. I waved to the guests and ran down the hall, turning the corner and heading down two flights of stairs. I opened the door to the small reactor room, where Jonas was standing around. He tried his best to look completely serious as he confronted me.

"What are you doing down here, Paul?" he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at me, pretending as if I hadn't heard him talking with my father about me coming downstairs a little while before. "You know kids aren't allowed down here, especially not ones who's names happen to be Paul.

"Um, my name's not Paul?" I said with a childlike voice. "I'm new around here?" I crossed my arms, mimicking his stance.

"Well, I guess someone better let your dad know, then! He'll have to run all kinds of scary tests on you! Standard procedure, you know the drill. Or maybe you don't since you're new around here." he said, the fake seriousness breaking. "I guess you'll get to watch the birthday boy try out his new...well I'll let his dad tell you." he pointed behind me to my father who was descending the stairs at that time.

"What is it, dad?!" I asked as my excitement got the better of me.

"What do you mean, father? I thought you were new around here." My dad asked with all the seriousness of Jonas, which wasn't much.

"C'mon, what is it?" I asked, peering round him to catch a glimpse of what he was hiding.

He pulled out a small gun from behind him, a BB gun, and held it out to me. I grabbed it and rotated it around, examining the mostly wooden weapon.

"For real?" I asked incredulously. "Can I shoot Butch with it?"

"Easy, it may be a BB gun, but it's not something to play with! You can still hurt someone with it, so I don't want to hear about my son shooting other ill-mannered children in the rear, okay?" my dad commanded as he made a motion to Jonas. "Even though they may deserve it. Ah well, come on, over here."

We proceeded to the next room over, where three targets were set up on the far side. My dad explained that those targets were there for shooting, and that I could come down there and practice anytime I wanted. I wasn't a very good shot, and it took me a few tries to hit all of the targets, but I got the hang of it. There was even a radroach (which is basically just a giant version of your standard cockroach) that came out. I smashed it with a piece metal tubing after taking several missed shots at it.

That day, despite the trouble I had encountered, was pretty great. It was probably my favorite childhood memory, much more so than my first crush, or that time when I got in a fight with Butch's gang, the Tunnel Snakes right outside Mr. Brotch's classroom when we were supposed to be taking the G.O.A.T.

I may not have won that fight, but it was three against one. I was fine, though, and returned home later that day with only a black eye and a sore abdomen, with an incredible score on the G.O.A.T.

It wasn't until years later, when I was nineteen years old, that everything came crashing down. I remember the morning clearly. I woke up to the sound of sirens, and the Overseer ranting over the PA about being confined to our quarters. I looked around, and my dad was nowhere to be seen. I assumed he was just down at his office, so I just sat down on the couch and started watching television. The channels we got were shit. Always re-runs. I really wondered why there were no new shows being made, it was as if the world had ended or something.

About three minutes later, a knock came at my door. I opened the door and a very distraught Amata was there to greet me. She looked terrified as she brushed past me without a word. Her hair was a mess, and her clothes were equally as ragged. I closed the door behind me and sat down.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Stay up late studying? Want some cereal or something? I ate the last of the Sugar Bombs, but we still have..."

"Are you serious?" she screamed out suddenly.

I was taken aback by her apparent love for the sugary cereal. It was no secret that she prized them highly, but not to such an extent. "Yes. I really did eat the Sugar Bombs." I said, actually confused by her sudden outburst. "Look, I know you like them too, but..."

"Don't you know what's going on?" she asked, looking around as if she were checking to make sure she wasn't followed. "Have you not been listening to my dad?"

"No. I never do. Did someone piss in his coffee this morning? Again? It wasn't me this time." I raised my hand, "I swear. Not crossing my fingers, either."

"It's your dad! He...he's gone! He left the vault, I don't know how, but he did!" she stammered, as she paced back and forth, and sounded like she was fighting back tears. "And they...they killed Jonas! They just beat him when he wouldn't talk! Now they're looking for you!" she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

I dropped the remote, and felt fear wash over me. No doubt my face was pale as I sat in disbelief. "What?!" I finally said. "Look at me, okay? Look at me, Amata." I asked, furious over the death of Jonas. "Who killed Jonas? Huh?! Who. Killed. Jonas?!"

"Who?!"