"I don't want to set the world on fire... I just want to start a flame in your heart..." The song echoed through the ruins of old Washington D.C, carried in the radioactive wind, a whisper at the furthest reaches of the Capital Wasteland.

War. War never changes. In the end all it boils down to is survival. Even after the end, war is just the survival of the fittest. After years of fighting over the last remaining resources the world finally erupted into nuclear apocalypse. On the 23rd of October 2077 the bombs fell and the world was plunged into radioactive darkness. But in the darkness there was a light, some people took shelter in massive underground vaults to outlast the radioactive harshness. It is in one of these vaults that he was born and raised but it was in the harsh, radioactive wasteland of the surface that one person became the lone wanderer.

The Capital wasteland, a post-apocalyptic Washington D.C. Just another day in paradise. Bullets flew over his head as he crawled behind cover. "Fucking three dog. Getting this fucking dish just to find my fucking AWOL father. FUCK!" he said grumbling away as he made his way through the battle ridden mall district to the Washington monument. He came to the clearing just before the monument. There were 2 big green fuckers at either side of the clearing with mini guns. He sat there weighing his options for a moment.

"Fuck it!" he said before making a mad dash for the entrance. The guards watched as this tall dark haired Caucasian kid from vault 101 sprinted across this open space dodging, ducking, dipping, diving and dodging bullets, explosions and bricks all while carrying a big circular dish on his back cursing all the way. Somehow the crazy fucker made it to their defences without a scratch. "You lucky bastard." said one of the metal clad guards as he walked passed them up to the elevator. He hated tight, cramped spaces. It reminded him of the vault and the lost love. The wanderer couldn't exit the elevator fast enough and he made his way to the missing chunk in the wall taking in the air watching as the sun rose over the ruins. When he was in the vault he was safe, he was guaranteed three meals a day, he had a loving father and an amazing friend but looking at the sunrise over the capital wasteland he wouldn't give it up for anything. Yeah the wasteland could be a harsh bitch but it was home.

"This wire goes there and done" The voice of Three dog sounded through his pip-boy loud and clear. Grabbing his webbing, backpack and sniper rifle he entered the dreaded elevator down to the ground. He couldn't decide what was worse, the constant repeat of the same songs over and over or that blasted elevator tune. He exited the GNR building in to Chevy Chase. Now he has to go to rivet city. He had just been there before heading to GNR. "This world fucking hates me!" he sighed as he made his way through the dark, stank underground metro. Screeches of feral ghouls echoed through the tunnel getting louder and louder. Taking his 10mm smg out of its holster with lightning speed, he fired a three round burst behind him satisfied crunch and spurting sounds that the ghoul was "dead". The tunnel fell into silence once again leaving the vault dweller to his thoughts. After several hours of walking disposing of ghouls he finally made to Anacostia station.

" I'm no millionaire.. and I'm not the type to care.. cause I've got a pocketful of dreams." The tuned played through his pip-boy as he walked the wastes. River city had pretty much been a bust along with the Jefferson memorial. Only the amount of ammo and weapons he collected barley made being shot by big green bastards.

"Cheers Moira."

" Okie dokie come back soon." Was heard as he walked out the door of Craterside supply. Ah Megaton, what a shit hole literally but it was home. He placed his rifle in the makeshift armoury before collapsing on his bed and drifting off to sleep. He could hear soft crying of in the distance. The vault dweller stalked the black halls of vault 101 searching for the source of the crying. He entered his old quarters and found a wee girl crying in the corner, chin resting on her knees being pulled into her chest. The girl had red hair in a messy pony tail and her eyes were an ice blue like his. She looked up at him and asked?

"WHY DADDY? WHY DID YOU LEAVE?"

"What"

"MUMMY LEFT ME! DON'T LEAVE ME AGAIN DADDY!PLEASE!"

Sweat was dripping all over his body when he awoke. Sitting up and rubbing his face he pondered on the unusual dream. The girl looked a lot like him and AMATA.

"FUCK" was all Wadsworth heard before his master ran out the house getting dressed in the process.

"Such a foul mouth that one has for some his age." the robot said before continuing with his chores. The night air was cool on the wanderer's skin as he made his way to the local pub. The pub was empty'ish thankfully, it just the way he liked it quiet.

"Scotch Gob and a lot of it." He asked the bar tender.

"Sure as long as you have the caps, Moriarty beet me for a week after I gave that freebee." Gobs rough voice had a hint fear in it.

"Yeah here." he said throwing a bag of caps on the counter.

"That's a lot of scotch there, care to share some with me?" said a female to his right. He turned around and was frozen on the spot at the sight in front of him. The girl was in her early 20's standing at about 5'8 with an angelic face framed by long brunette hair, a massive pair of tits and curves in the entire right place to complement them and the leather armour she wore showed the all of.

"Ehh... umm..." Loss of words. She walked up to him, put to fingers under his chin and closed his mouth.

"Before you catch any Bloatflies." She smirked before downing his shot and walking away swaying her hips and showing of her ass to him.

"Umm..." Was all he could say? He turned around and faced his ghoul friend who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Finally meet one bomb shell you couldn't defuse." All the wanderer could do was nod.

"Well that was a fine ass; maybe she'll come work for me." The Irish accent was unmistakable. Moriarty walked down the stairs.

"I wouldn't count on it." Replied the wanderer

"And why not, ya little shit."

"She seems to be doing just fine on her own."

"Well things can happen when on your own." The Irishman walked away. He eyed him cautiously knowing that some dirty little scheme was forming in the Irishman's head. When the third bottle of Scotch was finally empty when the drunken dweller finally retired to his house before passing out on the cold metal stairs.

After leaving Moriarty's the 'bomb shell' made her way to the wooden door of vault 101. She sat on the edge of the cliff looking to east to the D.C ruins. What it must have looked like in its heyday and full of life. No radioactive air or water, green trees and grass, insects smaller than your hand and aren't trying to kill you and to be able to love and not worry about them being ripped apart well shopping for food. Her thoughts drifted to the Scotch guy in the bar and he looked just like her in a sense. Hurt, Lonely, Sick and tired of this fucking way of life and loss. She looked at the .44 magnum in her holster which seemed like a reasonable exit at the moment. Taking the revolver out of hits home she stared at the cold metal pulling back the hammer slowly and placing it in her temple. She closed her eyes waiting for the final bang. It never came. She couldn't do it something was telling her not to do it, it will all be ok in from now on but she wanted to go back to the way things were. Three meals a day, a hot shower, safety and a loving mother. She looked to the old wooden door. She knew what was in there. Home...