Let It Be

This is a simple collection of Fallout stories I just created to introduce my friends to the world of Fallout and what it had to offer. I don't own Fallout or Black Isle, or a gun, or even brown hair for that matter. But hell, they are all in the story. Except Black Isle. That's not in the story.

The man woke up with a start and honed reactions that seemed as if they had been purpose built into his muscles immediately grabbed for his thigh where his weapon should have been. His hand met cotton and underneath he felt the firm flesh of his leg. He let out a sigh.

"No gun. Shit."

The room he was in was dank and grey. The corridors were smeared with grease and grime. The walls themselves looked decrepit; it looked like something out of a bad horror film. There was a single light on the ceiling giving out a small, weak layer of gloom to his surroundings. The man got to his feet and checked himself over.

"Hmm. Everything seems fine."

The man ran his hands around his body until he reached the back of his head. The he stopped. Short brown hair covered most of his scalp except for a large mangle of flesh and dried blood which seemed to permeate from the top of his head. That must have been what accounted for his lack of memory at this current point in time.

"What the fuck?"

The man began to drag his God-forsaken carcass along the length of the corridor until he came to a door. Next to the door on the wall was a small keypad. On top of the keypad was a small LCD display. Currently the display was blank, showing only 2 red dots.

"Screw this shit."

The man drew bag his fist and rammed it into the keypad with all the force he could muster. The keypad buckled under the extreme pressure and the door slid open with a hiss. The man let out a small chuckle and glanced back along the corridor. He had simply got up and walked one way. At the other end of the corridor was a locker. The man found bounding the corridor very simple. His body reacted well and was starting to become more fluid and responsive to his thought. It was like waking up from a groggy, semi-sleepy state and then your body slowly coming to the realisation it actually had to do work. He reached the locker in seconds. It swung open easily as he had thought he may have had to break another lock and so had put a lot of force into pulling the door open. Inside was a large leather breastplate combined with some stretchy material that was obviously supposed to be the under-armour that went with it. There was also a small shelf that contained a sticky note and some form of ritualistic, curved blade. He could tell by the look of it that it would be less than useless in combat. Its dimensions being probably deadlier to the user than to the person they were facing. He mused on this for a few moments. He surmised that someone trained in the use of the blade could turn it into a quite effective weapon, the curves becoming advantageous instead of a potentially deadly hindrance. He slid the blade into the rear of his trousers to inspect further later. The man withdrew the sticky note and had a closer look. He had to move towards the light because at this range, it was only small degrees off being pitch black. If the knife hadn't glinted slightly he would have never have seen the note. The note was very simple and precise.

Subject: Chris Avellone

Number: 783-666

Status: Condemned

Chris grunted at the note, and then threw it on the floor. He turned and walked towards the door. The door had only slightly opened, his punch clearly breaking some sort of mechanism within it. He uttered another grunt, and then forced the door the rest of the way. He was faced with harsh, bright light that hurt his eyes. It took him a few moments to adjust before he could take in his surroundings. All he could see for miles around was thick yellow sand. It looked like a sea of incandescent flame. Chris poked his head out of the little confine that he had been in. The corridor must have been air-conditioned because the atmosphere outside was roasting. He took his first step outside and started to walk up the hill that greeted him in front. As he walked he noticed that there were various other corridors that lined the base of the hill. What he failed to notice was that thesmall LCD display had gone down to only one dot. It took him several minutes to reach the top of the hill. By the time he had got to the top, he was sweating all over his body. The heat really was tremendous. A loud wail forced him to look back. The corridor doors opened and half a dozen people limped out into the sunlight. A number of other corridors also came open. The creatures that exited these, however, were not people. A monstrosity, standing nearly 8 foot tall came out of the nearest corridor. It was covered in fur and had claws that came almost half a metre away from its hands. Its reactions were lightening fast as it set upon the nearest human. The human didn't even put up a fight. Within a second his body had been cut to ribbons and all that was left was a thin red mist that settled onto the floor. 2 other monstrosities had also been released from separate corridors. The other humans died very quickly until only one last man remained. He took the curved blade from out of his pants and waved it in front of the creatures. His waving was random and sporadic. Chris mused that he clearly wasn't trained in the use of the blade. He quickly managed to disembowel himself and fell onto his knees onto the floor. One of the things took the opportunity and raced towards the man. He too, was quickly ripped apart. As the 3 creatures started to band together and chatter in some alien language, a last corridor opened. Out of the corridor spilled a dozen men in heavy combat armour and a short man with spectacles carrying some sort of scientific instrument. The man seemed to fiddle with it somehow and then the creatures began to howl and ran back into their cages.

"Holy Shit."

By this time Chris had already got onto his stomach so that he was a harder target to spot. The men scanned the surroundings, and then apparently content with what they saw, walked back into the corridor. Chris guessed that there corridor was evidently differently to the one that he had woken up in.

When he was sure that the coast was clear, he rose to his feet and ascended to the crest of the hill. At the top, he surveyed the environment around him. For miles all that he could see was harsh desert wasteland.

"So this is what the world really looks like. Full of what looks like the Devils, the Dead and the Damned. Excellent, just the sort of place I might be able to make a living."

As is on cue, a pack of strange birds descended onto the bodies at the base of the hill and started to pick at the slices of meat. Chris spun around in a circle, picked a direction and then set off to whatever fate had in store for him.