Treat

By: Zephyr Chandni

I've never known sun on my skin… only the fluorescent bright bulbs down in the cold, tyrannical Vault. Everything there was metal, or plastic, the few bits of life hidden away from curious eyes. No real food: Pastes and cakes, spam and non perishables. After a few hundred years, I suppose people got used to no hope. "We are born in the Vault, we live in the Vault, and we die in the Vault." what a contradiction that was….

I leaned to the right, stretching my aching body, events of the past gathering like a swarm of angry (And unwanted) locusts, clouding out the reality of the situation I truly was in. I was outside… I could die. But…

Dad was gone.

Jonas was dead.

And the overseer?

One very pissed off man.

I couldn't go back home… the door was sealed shut. Not that I had wanted to, my father was the one thing that meant the most to me in my life… and he was gone. Gone where? I won't know until I find him again…

Angry tears cascaded down her cheeks as she sat, hard, on the packed dirt overlooking the cliff. "Daddy…. Why did you go? Why did you leave me? What did I do?" The sobs echoed around her, bouncing off the rock, seemingly mocking her own state of post- trauma of the events that led her to the predicament she was in now. "Daddy!..." For minutes at a time, the vaultie sat, sobbing, slightly rocking her body back and forth, before realization hit.

She had to fight to stay alive, she had to SURVIVE. Hadn't she brought some things with her, when she was fleeing from the security? Wasn't she smarter than that? It was no secret that the outer world was torn apart, a hell to be reckoned with. Of course, it was one of the statements the overseer used to instigate fear within the youth. No one knew what was out there, but they sure as hell understood it wasn't the homeland taught in history class.

She drew in a shaky breath, trying to steel her nerves, and dug around in her pockets.

A few stimpacks, a blood pack, one grognak the barbarian graphic novel and a few magazines of bullets were all that she found. Strapped to her back and holstered to her sides were her BB gun, a 10 mm pistol, and a police baton (two of which she pilfered from the bodies of security guards) . The slightly torn security uniform was the only clothing she had.

'Well, shit.'

Getting up was hard, the burden of her heavy heart and over used muscles wearing her down. Whimpering slightly before taking in a deep breath, she held back all emotion, which she determined as 'useless', considering the state she was now in, the look of impassiveness etched on her pale face. Deep red hair swayed in the acrid sulfur smelling wind, obscuring her view of the landscape as she surveyed the area with glistening emerald and violet eyes.

Rocks, dead trees, cracked pavement and dilapidated homes scattered the horizon, unsurprising seeing as the nuclear holocaust ravaged the land she once knew as America. She shivered, an unexpected wave of emotion slowly spreading through her veins like poison. The vaultie choked on a sob, the desolate scene a heavy reminder of loved ones lost…

But she couldn't let these thoughts cloud her judgment; she would grieve later, yes, but not now. It was a cruel world, and she was young and naïve. She needed to be alive to find her father, of course, and nothing was going to stop her now, not after coming so far.

It wasn't as if she could turn back, anyways.

She clambered down the Cliff-side, clumsily, her boots more used to the smoothness of the metal floors of Vault 101, her previous home. Occasionally, she slipped and fell on her ass, the BB gun digging into her back, followed by a loud and unnecessary curse. She was going to be well bruised and beaten up before she could find shelter, this, she knew.

"Ha, if I ever live to FIND shelter…" She mocked herself, a sarcastic smile hiding the pain and fear buried beneath bone and tissue in her chest. 'I miss him so much, already…' she thought, but refused to let the tears drop from her long lashes. Continuing her walk, she stumbled upon a small abandoned residence, but to her far left, a large, twisted heap of metal stood, the last rays of sun glinting off sheets welded together. Out of shape, and out of time, this, she knew. Wandering the landscape of the old town, shuffling weakly towards the heap of metal, the redheaded young adult shuddered again from the hollow feeling creeping up her spine, imagining the few minutes it took to vaporize these houses, along with the residents inside. She kicked a rusted can along, labeled 'Pork 'n Beans' in faded lettering, trying to keep her mind off of the re-occurring thoughts plaguing her mind. The can only bounced off the burnt ash fault a few times before ending with a "Clink" on the familiar metal on metal sound. Frowning, and dragging her sorrow filled face from the ground, green and purple eyes met the large object that stopped her make-shift soccer ball from continuing its journey. Closer inspection revealed it to be a Nuka cola machine. 'Way-hey-hey-hait…. Nuka... COLA?'

Suddenly remembering that, Of course, humans need water to survive, she smacked her dry lips thirstily and dashed towards the vendor, before realizing that one needed, indeed, pre-war money to activate the machine.

"shit." She muttered quietly, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "How the fuck am I going to open you, my red-painted fiend?"

After a minute of silence, she narrowed her eyes, a small, sadistic smile forming on her pale-dry lips. She reached for the police baton that hanged uselessly at her side, grasping it, and took a few steps back… aiming her hit towards the lifeless vending machine.

She swung as hard and fast as she could! Although the baton was short, it at least was a little heavy. She swung again, and again, large dents covering the sheet metal, but no soda popped out. Sighing in defeat, with the last of her strength used, she leaned against the machine, spent.

"You've won this round…. " She mumbled angrily, but too tired to really care. In one last act of defiance, she elbowed the machine softly, a gentle thud emanating from the surrounding buildings and making the sound louder then what it really was. The machine whirred, the last remnants of electric power buzzing through its system, and a cola bounced out, before the lights illuminating the Nuka Cola sign slowly faded again. 101 stared, dumbfounded, and laughed, half crying, picking up the flat cola. She unscrewed the bottle cap, putting it in her pocket (A souvenir of her triumph!) and took a long swig of the slightly warm, and flat, concoction.

Grinning ear to ear, she savored the taste, before exclaiming in a cracking, tired voice, "OH MY GOD! It's like an orgy in my mouth!" It was the sweetest tasting beverage she ever had the pleasure of drinking, in all her life. Even though she had Nuka Cola's back in the vault, the wonders of stress and dehydration did something to your mind. Finishing the rest of the drink, she lamely got up, the sky washed with bright colors in the setting sun. Judging by the amount of light left, she assumed she had 15 minutes before lights out, and all warmth she felt would be gone… not to mention lord-knows-what crawls out of the cracks of the earth and swallows her whole. Admittedly, she knew she wasted her time by beating up the Nuka Cola machine, but she wasn't in a very great state of mind in the first place… it seems like the better part of her rationality left her.

Her feet crunched on the gravel, salvaging a few houses, finding bobby pins, letters, cherry bombs, and a Salisbury steak (Which she wrinkled her nose in disgust at… 200 year old steak, yum.) before heading in the direction of the tangled mass of iron, passing by a small floating robot head. It was spewing, by the sounds of it, propaganda, so she paid not much mind at it. It wasn't bothering her and she didn't have much skill to bother with it. At least that was a sign of some form of humanity had survived… she had hoped.

She headed further down the road, the little robot lazily following her. Getting a bit weirded out, she started to quicken her pace, before stopping... and listening to a distant buzzing sound get louder and louder. "Oh… sick… is that a fly?" a large, mutated horse fly hummed in the air, its abdomen swollen. It looked to be flying towards her, but not before stopping a distance, and started to shoot what appeared to be stingers directly at her. "THE SHIT!" she exclaimed, pulling her pistol from her side and aiming at it, steadily. She narrowly dodged the stingers, sidestepping. A look of utter repulsion was on her beautiful features, her small nose crinkled up with her brow in thin lines. Her lips turned into a large, comical frown, and pulled the trigger….

Missing.

Before she had time to react by shooting the hell fly again, a laser zapped the thing right out of mid air. It was the floating robot, which had promptly turned around and kept talking about the "enclave" and "presidents" and "returning the land to which it once was" while puttering down one of the town lanes, disappearing from sight. The Vault princess barely had time to thank the little guy, but called after it anyway.

The red head's face did not change back into its more relaxed state, still highly disturbed from earlier (That, and the amounting stress), and she began jogging towards the heap again, (not wanting to visit the Desolate Waist lands' inhuman habitants) passing a town sign named "Megaton". 'I gotta hurry and find shelter, I'm definitely not gonna survive the night and I need to figure out my stuff first…'

Moaning, she put the gun away, walking up to the large metal doors. So, she figured luck was by her side as they began to groan and grind open, a large jet engine helping to open the mechanical door. Realizing that it was probably a settlement, her expression went to vaguely annoyed and disgusted to one of wonder. A protectron waved her threw, its robotic voice giving her a warm welcome with a hint of a western accent. She stared oddly at the robot before heading inside.

She stopped, staring at the belly of the civilization. Awed, and definitely and dumbstruck.

Inside the community was… a large, undetonated bomb.

Under her breath, gaze still locked with the dangerous threat, she muttered, "Are these people stupid?"

"Yes, well, not all of them. And these are my people."

Startled out of her stupor, she glanced to the side of her, where a tall, African American man with a cowboy hat and a long dusty coat stood, slightly bemused at her expression.

Holding out his weathered hand, he watched her carefully. "Welcome to Megaton, I'm Lucas Simms; you must be new here…" He glanced down from her embarrassed and blushing face, looking at the uniform she was wearing. It definitely wasn't from around here on the surface, and it seemed to be from one of the local vaults. He didn't even know there were still people living down there.

101 only nodded, grasping his hand in a weak grip, waves of fatigue taking her mind and body as one of her goals was complete, a small amount of relief releasing her clenched muscles. She needed to sleep, she needed to relax…

"The names Gale." She locked eyes with his, a look of passive innocents upon her. "So, Mr. Simms… I was wondering where I could take a rest." Gail decided she would ask questions later, on the where-about's of her father. The Lone wanderer sighed sadly, the heavy heart beating inside gained a few more pounds…

Seeing her now downcast eyes, Simms let go of Gale's slender hand and took a step backwards, lost in thought. He didn't bother to tell her his usual warning of "These are my people. This is my town. You so much as breathe wrong and I'm gonna fuckin' end ya." Speech, he knew she wouldn't be of any trouble. She looked so lost and out of place, he felt sorry for her. The oddly mismatched eyes seemed wet with grief and intelligence, a deep understanding pooling in their irises. 'Poor little vault princess…'

"The common house, over there," He lifted up a hand and pointed at a fairly large metal house, on the edge of the crater, "should have a few extra beds. You can sleep there, free of charge. Food and drink are rationed. The toilets are over there" he pointed slightly to the left, where a small shack sat on top of more large sheets of rusting… what appeared to be, Air craft carrier, in the midst of even more buildings. "Stay away from Moriarty's, the man has one foot in his ass and one ear in everyone's business." Gale easily found the saloon, drunkards hanging outside, having a smoke. She growled in slight disgust, she hated drunks. Or maybe that was the Vault side of her…

After a few more minutes of explaining the town, Gale nodded, and departed with a quiet and thoughtful thank you. She entered the common house, passing by people who stared at her, and a cow with two heads. Thankfully, the cow didn't stare, she already felt on the spot enough. She paused, slowly turning the knob, half expecting someone to come out flailing with a knife in hand, trying to stab her… but as she pushed on the door, the hinges creaked.. And she found the house vacant of people. ||AN: Just kidding, there was actually a homicidal maniac inside. They got married. The end… or not… rather short story that would be. And no sex scene? Gay.|| Flopping on an old, stained mattress, she carefully put her boots and side-arms under the bed. The police baton she had at her side, she put under her pillow, just in case anyone tried to steal anything. A tear dropped from her emerald eye, staying on the dirty pillow before disappearing into the weathered fabric. Gale pulled up the thin sheets, falling into a fitful sleep. Tomorrow was going to be just a little harder, as would the next day. She could deal, she had to. And in some fucked up way, this…

This was a treat.

AN: So, how was the first chapter? Pretty slow, right? It has to be, it needs to gain momentum :P Just like a train. A TRAIN DAMMIT. THINK OF THE MOTHER FUCKING TRAINS! THEY NEED LOVING TOO! *ahem* Uh. Mm.. So.. yeah.

First story I've done in, what, about 3 years? At least my writings skills have improved on their own..

Sort of.

R&R. Bring on the flames. They will probably be ignored but argued over. This story will be updated every: WEEK! So every Monday. But for the first few chapters (Up to chapter 5) it will be a little faster then that. So don't get overly excited.

Question: When will Charon meet Gale?

Answer: Have you done your homework? (lol jk, probably in the next few chapts. Hold your panties.)

The homicidal maniac, was, in-fact, a reference to J:THM. I love the blade happy bastard too.

Gale, it turns out, was listed as one of the highest ranking girl names in the 1950's. I did the research before even STARTING this story. Just a little tidbit if you're wondering why I named her after wind.

Megaton's common house cannot actually house you. All the beds are owned, but you can pick up anything in there without a karma loss or gain. It's the only one that won't, but this is made up for the house you get for fixing the bomb (or, you know, detonating it, but you still get a place to live in the end.)

R&R.