A/N: WOW. I've been meaning to finish this first chapter up and get it posted for a LONG while. Basically, this will turn into a F!LW/Charon fic eventually. Slow burn. Basically what you'd expect from me. That being said, I have various other things coming up, including my TESIV fic (first chapter will be posted very soon, if not today at some point). Anyhow, enjoy! Reviews and critiques are always appreciated.
"Ellie? Ellie! Wake up! Eleanore! Please, you have to get up right now!"
Elenore groaned and pulled her blankets over her head in an attempt to ignore the girl.
"No!" Amata shouted, pulling them off and onto the floor.
"The fuck d'ya want?! It's too early for this: get the fuck outta here," she ordered, sitting up.
"Your dad is gone! He left the vault!"
"Ha-ha. Fuckin' funny."
"I'm serious, Ellie. Your dad left, Jonas is dead! And now my dad wants you."
"The fuck'd I do?" Eleanore snorted as she slowly clamored out of bed. What a great way to be woken up. She'd grab a jumpsuit from her dresser and pull it to her hips, tying the sleeves together, forming makeshift pants before slipping her boots on, not bothering to tie the laces. She completely ignored what Amata had said. Jonas? Killed? Hell, perhaps this was some sick joke. She knew other's in the vault were prone to making up stories, concocted by the drive to sate one's own mental illnesses. Really, Ellie had come to this conclusion. Amata was going crazy. Maybe her father was too, but it'd be like any other morning: woken up rudely and dragged to breakfast—or lunch if she so happened to wake up late.
"I don't know, but you have to get out. I'll help you."
"Yeah, okay. Ya do that." More unclear answers. Fantastic. This had to be a disgusting joke. She'd go to the mess hall. Both her dad and Jonas would be chatting over eggs and toast, yolks soaking into the bread, making it a sick yellow color and mostly unedible. She'd leave and find Butch, maybe punch him in the arm a bit harder than intended, and call him an insufferable asshole—lovingly, of course. Then she'd slowly waltz into her shitty job at the diner, late as per usual. Get splashed with hot oil, steal her weight in fries, make snotty remarks to anyone who tried to argue with her over the counter. She'd eventually return to her room, break out an unmarked bottle of some kind of alcohol, and down the contents before staying up for most of the night writing and drawing and making a mess with paint. Pass out. Begin the cycle again.
"What's for breakfast?" she asked, examining herself in a mirror. She tied up her hair with one of Susie Mack's ribbons: stolen, of course.
"This is serious, Ellie!" the other yelled. "Jonas is dead! Your dad left you here. My dad wants you dead too! He's sent his men to find and kill you!"
It was then, Eleanor noticed the blaring siren echoing throughout the metal tomb, red lights flashing and reflecting off the walls. Turning slowly to her friend, her face twisted. She was more alert.
"You're not jokin', are you? Is this a joke? Are you jus' bein' an asshole?"
Amata's eyes grew wide. She looked infuriated, scowling and shaking. "No! Why would I make this up? This is serious. I'm serious, and my father is too. He's not gonna rest until you're dead! You need to leave!"
Well, damn. Ellie was perplexed. No one ever left the vault. Hell, no one came in either. Everyone who she knew of was born there, and would die there—just like the rest before them, sent to a firy tomb in the crematory that no one ever spoke of.
"And what's he gonna do when he finds out you're helpin' me?" she asked, pacing around, gears turning within the confines of her mind.
"That doesn't matter. He can't do anything to me," Amata reassured her. Maybe she was right. Then again, Ellie knew that leaders could snap and kill their young. "There's a secret tunnel in his office that'll take you to the entrance. That's your best bet. But, you'll either need the password or you'll have to hack the terminal."
"Anythin' else? Like maybe the fuckin' password? I'd like to hurry up and get outta here before your maniac father kills me."
A small part of her still tried to say this was all a cruel prank, probably instigated by Butch. But, sirens? The PA system on loop? She couldn't help but feel the small lump of anger growing in her throat, leaking into her stomach.
"I don't know the password. But, I—I stole this from him," Amata stuttered, pulling a small pistol from her jumpsuit. She handed it to Eleanor, who, in turn, examined it thoroughly. It fit quite naturally in her hand. She'd no idea how to use it. The BB gun she had laying around was nothing compared to this. "I have extra ammo too. Please, don't use it unless you absolutely have to."
"I'm fuckin' up anyone who gets in my way, Amata. With or without th' gun."
"Fine, just—don't hurt my dad. I might be able to try to talk some sense into him."
"Sure. Don't kill the guy who's tryin'a kill me. Whatever," Ellie said, rolling watery eyes as she tucked the gun into the waistband created by the arms of her jumpsuit. She gathered the rest of her things: a small bag, baseball bat, BB gun, a few Stims; and pushed passed Amata.
The vault's security system had shut almost every door, leaving the halls lit only by flashing, red lights. Radroaches scurried back and forth across the halls: open targets for Ellie to nail with her bat. Time spent in the vault's baseball team seemed to finally pay off. She was more of a pitcher, but it was a lie when she said she wasn't much of a batter. With each swing, the insects' gusts few down the corridor, like a ketchup packet being crushed by a boot. What a pathetic attempt at covering up his real motive. An infestation?
No. It was most definitely under control.
"Hey! You there!"
An officer ran toward her, baton drawn and ready to strike. With little force, Ellie sent her bat colliding with his head, knocking off his helmet. The officer staggered backward a bit before falling against the wall.
She stammered and stood in one place, shocked. Nudging the officer with her foot, he slumped over and onto the floor. Ellie brought her hand to her mouth, a stifled gasp resonating throughout the hall. Was he—dead? She killed him. One hit to his temple downed the man, brainwashed and manipulated by a madman.
There wasn't much time to gawk, or apologize for that matter. Perhaps the girl who cared so little had finally met her downfall. Unable to do much more than slowly walk, she pressed on, trying to forget what she'd done.
For a brief second, she ran into Butch, fussing and screaming about how his mom was being attacked by the roaches—and how he was afraid of them. She thought quickly, deciding to sock him in the jaw before throwing her BB gun at him. It seemed to make up for everything he'd done to her, and what she'd done to him. Pained, but grateful, he shucked his jacket off in an attempt to make a trade. Though it smelled like vodka and pomade, Ellie threw it on herself. The thin layer of protection was better than none. She told him to take care of his mother, and himself. It was the best she could do, given the situation. For all the residents knew, her father escaped the vault, letting the roaches in. Lies—constructed to hide whatever motives this fuck had. She'd always heard people talking about her dad: how he was the one who brought on all of the vault's troubles. How? They'd always lived there, right?
No one enters, and no one leaves.
Heading closer and closer to the Overseer's office, she found herself being gunned down by officers she once trusted. In return, she was forced to shoot back, killing most. Blood speckled the walls, pooled on the floor. Ellie stepped carelessly through it, leaving crimson footprints behind her. She smelled like copper, red adorning her skin and clothing like freckles. She heard more of the Overseer's goons running in her general direction, and she couldn't stay to be remorseful for what she'd done. She was a murderer now, at least in the eyes of everyone she once trusted. It was all far too insane. The vault was insane, and her escape wasn't all she thought it would be. It was like she was a rat, cornered and cowering in a desperate attempt to break free.
"Turn yourself in, and everything will be fine."
More lies. Now with tears threatening to pour out of her eyes, she spat in the Overseer's face before killing his "bodyguard," beating him to death with her bat. Brains splattering. Bone flying out in chunks. Gore sticking to her hair.
"I'm leavin', you—you fuckin' psychopath," she sneered, choking on her words. Fuck, she didn't sound as tough as she thought she was.
She bolted from the room toward his office. Frantically, she searched lockers for anything that'd give her entry to this "secret tunnel." Papers littered the floor, along with clip boards, hidden rations, photos of each and every vault resident. A password.
"Fuck, open up!"
With shaking hands, she punched in the combination of letters.
A. M. A. T. A.
How fucking stupid. How simple. Anyone could have broken in and found the tunnel and all of the vault's plans.
With a hiss and screech, the desk in the center of the office rose from its position, and the floor spread to reveal a set of stairs. That was—odd. Something unexpected, though within the past half-hour, Ellie had come to expect the unexpected. Quickly, she near jumped the full length of the staircase, running for the iron door it concealed. This was it: the last mad dash to freedom. She took it, pulling open the heavy door as fast as she possibly could. And there before her, at the end of a long tunnel, laid the entrance: a large, gear shaped door inscribed with the number '101'. She heard guards shouting, trying to find her—and she smashed the blinking, red button with the palm of her hand. Another siren blared. More red lights. Metal screeching. Wailing. In her shock and awe, she hadn't even realized Amata standing behind her.
"Holy shit. You opened the door," she said, eyes wide as ever.
"Yeah," Ellie replied with a whisper. "Get the fuck outta here while ya can."
With that, she strode toward the now opened door just as the guards were pouring in and overpowering the other girl. Behind her, a few gunshots were fired, and the door was sealed once again. Amata wasn't escaping with her. She wasn't even sure if she'd survived.
"Oh my God. I—I ain't in the vault," she thought out loud, noticing the skeletons littering the small cave she'd entered. "The fuck'd happen?"
The skeletal remains held signs, or at least used to. The deceased had begged to be let inside. It was worse than she thought. Ellie had no clue what it would be like on the outside, and so far, she was left with a bad taste in her mouth. She continued walking, a pit forming in her stomach as a slatted door grew closer and closer to her. Her steps echoed within the small cave—more of a tunnel, if anything. Did she really want to go outside? See the sun? Grass? Trees? What if there was nothing out there at all—just vast expanses of white?
With little effort, she cracked the barrier, and quickly closed it.
"I can't fuckin' do this," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes, though she was only trying to prevent tears from dripping onto her face. Pissed and alone, she drove the toe of her boot into a skull, sending it flying toward the vault door. The dirtied thing splintered upon contact. How long had these bodies been laying here? They must've been Pre-War. Ellie hadn't originally thought of how many people were once in the vault. She'd read somewhere that it was once overpopulated, and not everyone made it inside when the first bombs fell.
But now? Now there were so few people, quiet debates passed between residents, arguing about whether or not the door should be opened. Deep within the confines of her mind, Eleanor knew the door would have to be opened at some point. They'd all starve or become a pack of rabid inbreds if it wasn't. Cannibals, maybe.
For a long while, she sat with her back to the wall, rocking back and forth, or dozing in and out of sleep. She'd even fallen to her side, knees brought to her chest, and sobbed into the dirt. She'd never smelled earth before. There must've been life beyond that door, but she still couldn't bring herself to venture past it. In fact, she had to force herself to even stand and touch the damned thing again. All she'd know was the feeling of cold metal and concrete. Sheets stale with the scent of old soap and linen spray—coarse and riddled with holes. Outside of the vault was, of course, so foreign to her. Dirt. Unfiltered air. She could even hear the wind whistling.
It was the light though, casting through cracks in the brittle wood, that prompted her to finally step outside. It gave her a headache, but she was nonetheless intrigued. There was something about it not being fluorescent. Strange, but not unpleasant. Slowly, egged on by curiosity, the barrier was opened. Ellie tried to shield her eyes, but to no avail. It was like bombs were raining down, creating a continuous onslaught of explosions and light.
She was blinded.