Note: Reviews will be much appreciated. It is nice to know my story is appreciated, and it is even nicer when someone leaves a longer review with criticism. I can use such criticism to grow as an author, and hopefully make my story better.
This story evolved from me wondering about the early days of Fallout. There is very little information on the subject, mainly due to the lack of survivors. Upon seeing this, I just decided that I would create my own lore about what happened. I know that it does violate some pieces of the Fallout Bible, but I going to try to explain my reasoning.
This story is set in a city that we know next to nothing about, Baltimore, partially to allow for me to create my own world, and partially because it's my home town.
I apologize for the brevity of the story so far, it is still very much a rough draft.
Note: I do not own Fallout, or Baltimore.
Chapter 1: A Requiem for the Past
It was spring. The sweet songs of birds drifted in the cool, late morning breeze. The leaves rustled in the wind, the grass swayed gracefully, dancing under a blue, cloudless sky almost hidden from view by the forest canopy.
Emerging from the dense forest, Francis smiled as he felt the sun on his face, and then leaned on a tree to rest for a while. He stared at a passing butterfly, marveling at its beautiful wings.
Before him was a wide meadow, stretching on into the distance. The scent of flowers filled his nose as he inhaled deeply.
Francis held out his hand, and the butterfly landed on it, tickling his fingers.
Relaxed and happy, Francis closed his eyes, soaking in the beauty of the world around him.
The world was happy.
In the distance, a massive fireball erupted. It was fast. In only a few seconds, the fire engulfed the meadow, leaving nothing but a scorched plain, and one lonely shadow, burnt into the ground.
Francis woke up.
Trying desperately to hold on to the warm memory of the sun, Francis closed his eyes again and cried. It had been a long thirty years since he had felt the sun on his face.
He shivered, and wrapped up tighter in his blankets, and tried to fall back asleep. In the distance, the call of an unseen predator drifted in the cold.
Sighing, he grabbed his rifle, and got up to scout out his path for the day.
The wind was unforgiving, and whipped snow in his face as he left the alley, and merged onto Charles Street North. On both sides of the street, rubble filled the spaces between the skeletal buildings. Abandoned cars, half buried in the snow littered the desolate street, made it hard to see beyond a few yards.
He closed his eyes and listened to the wind, and heard nothing but distant calls. Finally, Francis decided that the way was clear, so he pulled out his ancient tourist map, and planned the day's trek. He had to get to the Inner Harbor Mall, nearly twelve miles away.
He would be lucky to make it by nightfall. Sighing, he grabbed his pack, and began his journey. Snow began to blow around him as the wind picked up. Visibility was becoming more and more of a problem as the wind storm became a blizzard.
Francis slipped on a ski mask and flipped up his hood to protect himself from the biting cold.
His morning routine was ruined, however, when he heard the call of a monster from above. He ran into the nearest building, and prepared himself for a fight.
He checked the ammo in his gun, and cursed.
He was down to his last five rounds.
The monster landed just outside. It had huge, tattered, bat-like wings, and deadly looking fangs. It bared its teeth when it saw Francis.
"Just another day in paradise."
Francis screamed, and fired his rifle.
The bullets ripped through the mutant, killing it instantly. Francis sighed in relief, when he began to hear mutant calls from all across the street.
His gunfire had woken up a nest!
He slid his gun onto his back, and pulled out his combat knife. He slowly crept backwards into the building he had just run into, blending into the darkness.
Frantically, he tried to escape further into the building, but as he sprinted, he tripped in the inky black and landed on his face. What was worse, his geiger counter started to go off.
He cursed, and turned off his counter, as he tried to hide in the darkness.
Francis heard snarls in the darkness, and he held his breath. The snarls grew closer, and he could feel the warm breath on his legs.
He gripped his knife as hard as he could, and he lunged at the snarls, getting a wet thud and a whimper as he made contact. He twisted the knife and the monster made no sound.
Francis flicked on his head mounted flashlight, and looked at his attacker.
It almost looked human, its face was melted, and its arms and legs wasted away, but there was still some eerie semblance of humanity in those bloodshot eyes.
A shudder ran down his spine after thinking that that could easily be his fate too. Radiation didn't just go away after the blast, it hung on the air. A silent killer, if you were lucky. If you weren't, well, then you turned out like this poor soul, mutated until your mind just gave out.
Francis looked at his surroundings, and smirked.
He was in the Baltimore Vault-Tec HQ by the look of things.
The massive fake vault door just gave it away.
This would be as good of a place as any to hold out against the mutants outside. He had hurt them, and thus they would stay at bay for a while. Enough time to prepare, if he was smart.
First of all, he put on his gas mask. This place was radioactive, and he sure as hell wasn't going to turn into one of those things outside! Then, he walked through the vault door, knowing it to be a good choke-point.
Just inside, he found several frozen corpses still clutching their rifles. They had obviously been dead for over a year, as a thick layer of frost coated them.
It was the first time he had found any sign of survivors in the wastes.
"What? Look, I'm sorry friends, but this is no time for respect."
He swiftly rummaged through their clothing, and found enough ammunition to fill a clip of his assault rifle, a rather fancy looking magnum, but the thing that touched him more than anything else, was a picture of a little girl clutched in one of the men's hands.
He stared at that picture for a long while, and he began to cry. An old memory playing in the street surfaced in his mind. For the first time in years, Francis was human again. It had been a rainy day, but the clouds had broken, so he had run out in the street along with several of his friends. They shot hoops and kicked the can. He couldn't have been more than eight at the time. Everything was coming back to him. He could almost remember his parent's faces.
The scream of a mutant interrupted his thoughts however, and the moment was lost. Francis was back in the present.
He loaded his clip, and prepared for a hopeless battle.
He knew this was the end. There had to be more than twenty of those ghouls outside, and they knew where he was. He checked his new magnum, and found a single shot. That was all he needed. He was not going to be a feast for hungry abominations.
The first of the mutants turned the corner, and came into view.
"Die, you monster."
Francis was about to shot, when he heard a child's laughter behind him. He whimpered, as he realized his mistake. He should never have gone inside, this building was alive.
The ghoul stared at him for a second, and then ran back around the corner, as if its life was in jeopardy. He had only seen one of those demons act like that once before. The twisted calls of the mutants faded away into the roaring blizzard outside.
Francis looked behind him, but no one was there.
There was something very wrong about this place. When he had entered, he didn't stop to think about the building's atmosphere, but now he felt dread. It seemed to seep into the very depths of his soul.
The building was silent, but somehow ominous. There was not even the sound of rats or radroaches, everything was dead. The very mood of the structure changed, the darkness that had felt so inviting before now was oppressive. His flashlight barely could penetrate the gloom. He began to feel that going outside and being eaten may be the better of his two choices.
A woman's scream echoed through the ruined halls, and multiplied, as if terrible torture was being done in every room. Soon, more voices came, and became a ghostly cacophony.
Shadows cast by nothing began to play in the light of Francis' torch. He was beginning to see what had happened to those men near the door. They had fallen into the same trap as him. This building was alive somehow.
He decided to risk more light, and he lit a flare from his pack. The added light did not reassure him though. He saw that he was surrounded by what looked like blast shadows, only they moved. They seemed to be alive. They moved with purpose, almost like they were people at work.
This was not the first time he had had such an encounter. These, things, were just a new phenomenon in this strange new world. He didn't like to use the term ghost, but, really, that was the best word for them.
Apparently, when the people of the world were atomized, they did not have time to realize what had happened, and did not move on. They were doomed to relive their final hours forever.
"What are you?"
He got no response. The shadows ignored him, continuing on with their strange dance. He felt sorry for them, but he also feared them. He wasn't sure, but that could easily be his fate too. Perhaps the afterlife was destroyed as well, and everyone who died had to remain on the scorched earth as a testament to man's sins. It certainly would not be an undeserved fate for humanity.
He had to get out of here. Francis had never seen what these places did to people, and he didn't want to know.
Francis suddenly got a massive headache that brought to his knees. A blue light drifted down out of the ceiling, combining with the red flare to make the room an eerie purple color.
There was a bright flash, and Francis lost conciousness.