Title: Fallout: Vaulted - Jump 133

Rating: Currently PG, but to be safe, I'm posting M on

Summary:

A self-insert multi-part snippet/story of a woman who is much more than she seems. Of course she is. This is her one hundred and thirty-third jump. It's not her first broke-down world, and it's not going to be her last. But it is Fallout, so there's a bit of mayhem.

Words: This Work is BETA and while it is story-like, it is UNFINISHED

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which pretty well guarantees that " ownership, " of some of the characters belongs to others, for example: J.K. Rowling and Universal, Bethesda, DC, Marvel, Disney, and so on. This work is entirely based on affection, is not-for-profit, but for praise or at least enjoyment. This work draws inspiration from Fallout (all of them), Harry Potter, and 133 successful jumps in a long jumpchain, of which this is the most recent one. That puts this squarely in self-insert-landia and its resulting possibility of either being finished very quickly or not finished, depending on how this rolls.

The jump this is based on can be found by searching quicksilver's jumpchain google drive. It is in the completed folder, under Fallout.

Beta Readers: It's embarrassing enough that this is out and out an SI, but it is literally my attempt to stir my writing back up into something less of a spiral of doom. I couldn't bring myself to drop this in front of my usual beta readers.

A/N - This is a Self-Insert (a fiction where an author inserts themselves into the story) based on a long jumpchain (essentially a single-player multi-universal RPG that offers perks, and loot for participating) that is technically still in progress. The jumpchain is now at 143 jumps, with the Fallout jump being 133. This SI has visited many different worlds to arrive where she currently is at, including Marvel-verses, Disney-verses, DC-verses, Starcraft, Minecraft, Terraria, SAO, RWYB, Kill La Kill, Harry Potter, and so many others that it's really too much to list. I will attempt to remember to put a notation somewhere if recognizable people are seen, but honestly, the perks of the jumps are more important to the story at this point and they come from all over the place. So, adding to the disclaimer above, I'll just say if you recognize something, look at it as an homage of respect, and recognize that I know I don't own the monetary rights to anything here, except myself and any original characters that might show up.

A/N - This fiction likely draws from several sources for inspiration - and each has been researched to some small degree, but canon is likely to float right out and get eaten by a Deathclaw. Just saying.

A/N - I hereby label this story AU. While it starts from movie core, game core, book core, fan fiction and even youtube fanvid and walkthrough inspirations, it is set in a reality that is both magical and dangerous and altered by events within the story. Also because Diresquirrel crossovers (on ) are worth reading whether they are complete or not, I am saying the story is inspired by it, but not so that it is vastly recognizably so... Also, game engineers will limit encounter creatures and world visuals for gameplay reasons, but a real world is often vibrant and full of life, even after catastrophe. Think of this as being a heavily modded version of Fallout if it helps. *stamp* AU *endstamp*

A/N - This snippet uses mystical and magical happenings, along with what you might expect of a technologically advanced, if a bit different from my starting point, world that went boom. So that makes this the dangerous kind setting, which means that some events are darker and more dangerous and possibly unfriendly with a lot of blood and gruesome. Because it is Fallout and apocalyptic that way. *stamp* MAYHEM! *endstamp*

A/N - I generally don't like writing first person for fiction, at all, but it doesn't make sense to write an SI as third person, because I tend to identify third person as distinctly different than myself. Recognizing that a 4000+ year old is far, far more mature, wise, and different than myself, I still find that if I'm going to write an SI it will make much more sense to write it as an aspect of "I". Although, I will point out, that in jumpchain-verse, it is customary that the side effect of taking on a new life which isn't just a drop in, is that it affects a person, even if that person has skills for remembering who they are. That said, any lack of wisdom, failure to plan, or other "stupid," behavior is likely my failing, rather than my SI's. Also, I may engage in authorial handwavium if I know something likely worked, but I don't know how to explain it.

A/N - Story mechanics. Usually in my stories, if I want something to happen, it happens, but because this is more of an action role play, there will be times I throw the dice to make the determination. I won't say when I do it, but if it's really inconvenient to my SI or amazingly awesome, there is an even possibility I went for the chance roll and ran with it. On the other hand, I am the author, so final call is my hammer to the story's anvil.

A/N - Just in case, though for the current number of chapters, really, there's not a lot - the SI has been around a long time and has adult relationships. I don't currently anticipate a lot of hanky-panky, but who knows. The perks for love and more are aplenty, even without visiting the really naughty Universes. *stamp* It's M for More, right?*endstamp* *stamp* Polyamory *endstamp*

A/N - I'm just going to use a fake name for my SI because using my own name feels a bit ridiculous and privacy and sundry other reasons. And I recognize the special snow-flakiness of the name, but what the heck, might as well have fun somewhere. I shall otherwise play it a little serious. After all, this is a Fallout world. Okay, maybe not that serious….

Part 1:

The Exit

My name is July Sky and today was my graduation day. I was of average height for a girl and a regular size for pretty much everything else. I thought my face was okay. I had hazel eyes and had short, curly dark hair on the top of my head. I wore a vault jumpsuit with the number 133 imprinted boldly and goldly on it. I wore vault approved socks and sturdy boots on my feet.

I stood nervously waiting, along with three of my peers, for the real event to get started. We were all at the end of this summer quarter, sixteen. Sixteen was both a terrifying and a magical age, in that it meant really big changes. To this point our lives had been warm, loving and slightly regimented, but always safe. We were parented by our vault village, educated by them, and coddled a bit. But the easy times were over. We each carried a small bundle, our worldly goods in a pack, the clothes on our backs, a flask of purified water and sundry food and medical items (enough for a few days and applications, but no more) and two weapons; a knife and a 10mm pistol, with a little ammo.

We also each had some version of the pip boy, full of the sum of the vast electronic library held by the vault and featuring various doodads, such as a radiation detector, that would help us, in theory, navigate the brave new world. Mine happened to be a slimmer model in a glove, but my friends had hefty looking armbands.

We had a little knowledge of the outside. After the vault door first opened there had been visitors, though not consistently. There had been talk of trade, but nothing had come of it. And even with the information they had shared, it was still hard to know what the future held. Thus we four did not know the true extent of changes to expect in the world, except that it was sometimes hazardous. We heard stories of scorpions the size of small rooms, long-lived beings that were either feral or wise from living all that time, and incredible mutations of flora and fauna. We also knew that we were lucky, as the placement of our vault set us deep into the mountains, where we were protected from the effects of radiation and the water and food remained pure, with the help of technology.

Our young adult education were based on the idea of useful skills. I was part of the girl scouts, and so had some small amount of survival training, though it wasn't wilderness survival. It was more how to shoot the rifles and pistols in the armory, how to recognize radroach infestations and what to do if the elevator stopped working, training. I was also part of the young business people group, where I learned some skills in barter and trade, usually involving cookies and juice. When I got older, my parents saw to it that I had a three year apprenticeship with Uncle Mike and Uncle Steve, who taught me many life skills, including how to repair, improve and cobble together pretty much anything I could get my hands on. The sturdy pip boy on my hand was a good example of their influence. Which meant, yes,my uncles had squirreled away some tools into my pack.

I was going to miss them fiercely.

Still, the point is, my peers and I were as prepared as our vault family could make us before being let loose into the world like fledglings falling from a nest.

In theory, we had been chosen. In practicality, there was no choice. Vault life was good, but it was also prone to crowding. While some might be able to stay, others, the most of us… were sent on into the wilderness; to survive or not. Usually these were the children of the body rather than of the lab, which had ways to keep the genetics of the vault clean. I had a mother and father, but my friend Tom was born from a breeding station. For that reason, it actually surprised me that he was here, as technically he was part of a new bloodline, but some people just have the urge for adventure and Tom was always a curious guy, if sometimes a little bitter for his age.

At the Overseer's command we lined up. He said a few words, that were mostly ceremonial in nature, about leavings and returns and farewells. Then the alarm began to blare and the lights began to flash and the vault's seal began to rotate. He wished us luck and the blessings of the divine and then it was time to go.

==Vaulted==

The vault does not lack light, nor does it lack air movement. In fact, it's a bright, well lit space and the air purifiers, along with the indoor plants, keep the air sweet and at perfect temperatures. But there was a tangible difference to the experience of breathing and seeing as we stepped through the shadows of the cavernous pathway remained cool, but as we neared the exit, the heat rose. We turned a corner and light was reflected against the wall at another corner. I could tell it was very bright compared to what we were used to. I flipped the lighting on my goggles so they darkened and encouraged Tom, who was walking by me, to do the same.

I'd love to say that those I was journeying with were great friends, but we ran in different circles. We had classes, and community events, but that had no guarantee of camaraderie. Still we were friendly enough and we'd all made a basic agreement to stay with each other, at least until we reached the closest settlement. At last word, it was about three-fourth of a day's walk. That didn't seem too bad. While we might not all be athletes, we were in fairly good condition. All of us did our morning exercises in the commons.

By the time we arrived at the next turn, the light seemed very bright and the humidity in the air had dropped quite a bit. I was suddenly grateful we had water, which if we stuck to the plan, should carry us well on our journey.

We were walking two in front, two in back. Tom and I were last. This turned out to be a fateful choice, several sharp noises cracked and our walking companions, Cherise and Nick jerked and shook. Blood splashed everywhere. I felt copper in my mouth and my ears rang. By the time they were falling, I had crouched to the ground and managed to grab my pistol. Tom grabbed our two companions, yanking and dragging them back. I got as near to a wall as I could get, trying to make myself one with the shadows. My heart was beating thunderously, but I wasn't feeling shaky. I was too angry.

I could hear shouts of, "Did you get 'em? Did you get 'em!" Followed by affirmations. And a shout of, "Slim pickin's this time, but you can't have everything…"

Tom and I were now situated behind the corner. We were trapped, but I only heard two or three voices, and unless there were more, we were not necessarily outnumbered, simply outflanked. If we went into the light we would be seen, but if we waited, we might have a chance to split them up.

I peeked around the side, one of the one's accosting us had started running forward. I raised my pistol, intending to shoot when Tom grabbed my arm and shook his head. He lifted his knife. We argued silently, mostly with eyebrows and grimaces, but Tom took my place and I rotated back. I took a chance and checked on our friends. Cherise was gone, but Nick was still breathing and that was about it. But there was no time to do anything about it. Then I thought to look at my pip boy and counted four red dots, including one very nearby. Great.

By the time I looked back up, the first raider or whatever he was, turned the corner, not even trying to be stealthy. Tom rose up behind him, grabbed him by the face and slit his throat in one smooth motion. I might have gaped a little; just a smidge.

That was one raider down and about 20 seconds later we heard, "Well?!"

Tom called out, only barely trying to disguise his voice. "They're dead! Come on in!"

Oh, this was going to go well. I silently shouted at him with with my facial expressions again, but lifted my pistol to readiness anyhow. He rolled his eyes at me, but otherwise kept his attention on that corner.

Then, two other raiders strode in, weapons pointed to the ground, laughing. The world seemed to slow down with my breathing and I found myself making life and death choices for these people. Two shots to the head on one, one shot to the head on the other and those laughs were gone. Tom was on the move too, as a third raider crossed in behind the other two.

My pip boy pinged and I looked at it and sighed in relief. And then there were none.

I went to check on Nick, but he was gone too.

"We can't let anything go to waste," Tom said as he patted my shoulder. "Not anything."

He was right. We did not know what was ahead. I nodded my head, and began silently gathering Nick and Cherise's belongings. Then we began taking stock of the people who attacked us. The guilt I was starting to feel regarding looting the bodies shifted to zero when I found a familiar necklace around the neck of one of the raiders. The raider looked nothing like my cousin Denise and was recognizably different from anyone I ever knew.

I realized then that these people had been waiting specifically for us. And it made me sick to think how many of us had never even made it past the entrance, because these people had been lying in wait, every quarter of the year, for who knew how long. Given the necklace there had been at least a half year's worth of candidates, something like seven of us. Gone. And who knew how long these people had been at this, so possibly even more than that.

By the time we left the cave, we had armor, new weapons and various other supplies of questionable origins. Outside the cave and not too far away, there was a two-headed cow, fully loaded with objects and ready to go. Beside it were the embers of a campfire. Not only had they been waiting for us, they were ready go with whatever they gained from us. Vultures.

It took me a moment to quit shaking from rage, and oddly, it was the friendly snuffle of the surprisingly sweet-eyed tri-horned, or would that be six-horned, beast with two heads that calmed me down. I should have been appalled, I suppose, but I felt numb and I rested my hand on its head and pet it anyway. Both heads mooed, just like on the shows, and then the second head nuzzled me, also seeking comfort from a stranger. Or giving it. I couldn't be sure.

I looked at the world around us. The sky was a brilliant light azure blue, with no clouds. There were some grasses of varying colors ranging from green to brown, but not a lot and who knew where the water was. We couldn't just leave it here, could we? That would be cruel.

"We should take the cow," I said. I was fully prepared to argue my reasons, which I was quickly formulating to sound at least a little logical.

Tom nodded at me as he kicked dirt into the fire. "It'll make things easier to carry, though we should probably go through its packs anyhow."

Right, there was that too.

It was also Tom's opinion that it might be hazardous to our health to look like we had just come from the vault. So, a half an hour later, we were dressed in the cleaner versions of the clothes we found in its pack and some of the armor. I knew Tom was right, but I missed the blue and gold uniform instantly. After all, I'd been wearing some version of the uniform for years. After that we unpacked the goods and examined what was to be had and there was quite a bit. I spotted several more items that came from our vault, including a water and a food purifier. They'd never been unpacked, but rode in storage on the beast's back. Tom and I divvied up the supplies and goods into things to keep, sell, or divide between us when we found a town.

We put Cherise, Nick and the Raiders in three cairns, some distance away from the cavern. Then, because the vault door wouldn't reopen until the next ceremony, we wrote a message on the cave wall, where it could be seen easily, detailing what had happened and urging caution as there was no way to know if these were the only ones who took advantage of the Vault's Exit ceremony. We would not be hanging around, as our charge was to go out and explore.

Then we were on our way. We still had more than a half-day's journey ahead of us, if what we had been told was still correct. Despite everything, I felt surprisingly good. We had survived.

== Vault==

We trekked down the mountain slope, toward the valley below. It was hardly a silent trip, as the two-headed cow lowed and the gear it had on rattled with each swaying step. Tom took point, holding a rifle. I held the reins, leading the brahmin.

We'd learned a few new words, reading through some of the notes from the previous owners; who had not been the people who had tried to murder us. I was beginning to think we should have left those raider folk to the buzzards. I did spot a few of those hardy birds.

Despite my grimmer bouts of imagination, the world we entered had a good amount of flora and fauna. Hundreds of years is a long time and usually life will find a way, as had been proven in pre-war nuclear catastrophes. There had been a few terrible accidents, when people were just starting to put the nuclear power options together. It took humanity awhile to perfect fusion containers, among other things. I knew of at least one state that had a huge forest grow over their nuclear fallout site after their first reactor blew, so there was no reason to expect a complete dead forest effect from mere radiation.

That said, this did not mean the world and that which populated it went without being affected and a lot of bombs would not just spit out radiation, but would change the actual face of the planet. They would have created new lakes, new mountains. The weather and sea would be changed, and forests might grow, but also had to start over from obliteration and contamination.

A pre-war state conservation ranger would explain that sometimes a good burn would have to happen in a forest or meadow to allow the earth to renew itself. Some plants only grew after experiencing certain temperatures and it was nature's way of handling deadwood. But the kind of burn that full on nuclear war brought was not that good kind. The point being, yes, there was life and a surprising amount was likely and it might even appear as it would pre-war, but much would also twisted, and altered, like the sweet-tempered brahmin following us. And the giant scorpion that attacked us about a half a mile into the valley.

Fortunately, between the two of us and after a heart pounding battle that involved a lot retreat and fire, Tom and I were able to kill it. The fight made me really grateful that Tom had survived. The brahmin, likely the scorpion's real target, was completely unaffected and so we were able to carry on after we caught our breaths.

It seemed like we encountered aggressive giant scorpions every half an hour or so. By the time we saw the settlement, Tom and I had pretty much established a process for killing the things quickly and efficiently, even when they came at us in multiples.

I thought radroaches were bad.

I was still very glad to see the first glimpse of real human habitation though. Two towers rose above a large metal gate. The towers were part of a very tall wall. I could think of nothing natural that could just leap over them, but that might explain the swivel-headed turrets that were spaced evenly across them. I could see buildings that were two, maybe three stories tall behind them. From one perspective, the small town might seem as if it were washed out, but from the other, it was well cared for. The wall had no obvious holes and not just in its defenses. I had to applaud our neighbor's ingenuity, if not their potential honesty.

Still, I realized then that lack of paint did not mean lack of care. Though, a part of me wondered if anyone even knew how to make paint. After all, someone had been killing off those who did know.

Okay, that was a little bitter. But there was a mental point there. I don't know about other vaults, but my people prized ancient know-how; not the just the technical stuff, but the art of being more than mere survivalists. Then again, what my people knew may or may not apply. Some of what pre-war folk thought of as "natural order," had more to do with supply lines and access. If you don't have access to limestone, you can't even make whitewash, the most basic of non-toxic paints.

False judgement, get thee behind me. The world is hard enough without negative mental chatter.

Tom and I made our way to the gate without haste. We were close enough that if we were attacked we would likely receive help.

Maybe.

It depended. Were the people of the town of the sort that supported what the raiders had done, or the sort that supported the merchants the raiders had slain? Had they been wondering what was happening to their caravans and why they never saw vault dweller young adults any more? I wasn't entirely sure I really wanted to know the answer, because I worried what Tom's reaction might be. He was pretty scary with weapons in his hands.

We came to a halt at the call from the guard-bot. "State the nature of your visit."

Tom spoke, "Rest, recuperation, information retrieval and trade."

"There is a 10 cap charge for a single day trade pass, a 20 cap charge for a week of trade, a 40 cap charge for a month and a 150 cap charge for a permanent trade pass. The weekly pass comes with stable and housing for the merchants. The monthly pass includes the stable, housing and stall for the duration. The permanent pass includes the stable, housing, stall and access to the guild trade halls in several settlements. If you already have such a pass, please display it now."

Tom and I had discussed this when we found the trader's folder. It had several items in it, including a stamped trade pass. In theory, all we had to do was flash it, but I worried that anyone who knew the traders would question how we acquired the pass or why our names did not match. I much rather start with my own.

10 caps wasn't bad and 150 was probably a low-end deal, considering. In theory, it should cost far more.

"Why so cheap?" I blurted.

"The town of Spring Haven is aware of the dangers that merchants face and the importance of trade in the longevity of a community. The local guild officers agreed. Also, the guild itself is fairly new."

"Where do we pay?" I inquired.

"You may leave the caps with me and I will give you a receipt. This will give you passage into the town and you may take the receipt to the guild offices for your new pass."

I looked at Tom and he shrugged. "Up to you."

"Right." At this point it was obvious that this was a more than fair deal. We were taking it while we could. I went to the brahmin, which I'd named Betsy, and carefully retrieved the caps, making an effort not to disclose where I'd pulled them from, though I also took a little extra and pocketed them for just in case. Then I counted out 150 caps to the robot, who scooped it into its chest and locked it away. In a few seconds, and with a few whirs and dings, the receipt was discharged from its mouth. It then handed the receipt to me. "To find the guild offices, take the main road. You will see their sign on the left, after you pass Beaker's Bar. The stables and trade housing will be immediately to your right as you enter the gate. I recommend that one of you remain with the brahmin there, while the other secures your pass with the guild. You may proceed."

We started walking. "I wonder how much they would have charged if we hadn't had the brahmin and been obvious traders."

The robot, who apparently had excellent sensors said, "50 caps for an overnight stay at Holly's, at minimum."

I didn't know how much caps were worth, really, but I suspected that was pretty steep. I paused and then turned around, "So the high fees are a test for non-merchants?"

"Those who are willing to pay, are less likely to cause trouble."

"And it's a nice little tax in case they do."

"Correct," offered the robot, "Also, if they don't cause trouble, they can gain up to 40 caps back depending on when they leave."

I couldn't help the chuckle. Well, that was one way to keep the riff-raff out. Maybe not super hospitable, but likely if you were traveling you had to have some cash of some sort. I could see how the system might work. "Okay, then I think we likely got the better deal."

"That you did, young lady. Welcome to Sweet Haven."