An Old Legend
I have no idea what I am doing, and I suspect that I'm losing my marbles a bit XD I mean, look at this! I'm writing for a game that officially isn't considered part of the Fallout timeline. I'm probably gonna stuff this up and get the characters wrong, given my lack of knowledge with this particular game, but I do hope you guys and gals enjoy it!
I do not own Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel, that belongs to Interplay Entertainment.
As the sun rose above the Wastelands, washing the irradiated Texan deserts in a warm glow. In the town of Carbon, a trio of friends were making themselves comfortable in the newly furnished bar. A great blow had been dealt to the town, after raiders had laid siege and destroyed everything in their path, with the bar having been dealt the worst blow. The old wooden building had been burnt to the ground and the owner, the jovial Armpit, had passed away with his bar. The people of Carbon had rebuilt the building, or at least tried to rebuild it with what materials were available. And while they had managed to do a somewhat decent job at this, the smell of charred wood was still evident, as if it the stench had been soaked into the very air itself.
One of the trio, a man, was currently leaning against a nearby wall, a bottle of beer clenched tightly in his hand. The man was a hulking individual, encased within a set of weathered and scratched power armour. His head was shaved bald with an extended goatee, and he had darkened skin that was covered in tattoos and scars, highlighting the amount of abuse and pain the man had put himself through. The man looked at the rest of the patrons of the bar, a scowl etched onto his face.
"Look at them, staring." Cyrus muttered, shaking his head. "Like we're freaks."
The female of the trio turned around to face Cyrus, an unimpressed look on her face. The woman had short brown hair and pale skin, with green eyes that were tinged with an iciness that could force any enemy to freeze in their tracks. Dressed in dirty combat armour, the woman had a smirk on her face as she faced Cyrus.
"Just enjoy the day, my friend." Nadia muttered as she shook her head in amusement. "We defeated Attis and his army, and we saved the day. Why can't you be like Cain and enjoy things?"
The final member of this trio lifted his irradiated head, his groggy eyes focused straight ahead. The Ghoul mercenary's skin was tinged a sickly green and peeling away at certain places, exposing the weak muscles underneath. His lips had rotted away many years ago, leaving his face to be contorted into a permanent grin. The Ghoul's armour was a mishmash of rusted metal and worn leather, seemingly a perfect fit for the broken down man that wore it.
"Gotta say, the bitch is right." Cain grunted. "We whooped those muties and showed them who's boss."
"Bitch?" Nadia inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"Seen ya gut a man, and not give a shit." Cain explained. "Takes one cold-hearted lady ta do that, and I'm a fuckin' mercenary."
"Hate to admit, but Ghoul is right." Cyrus grunted, as he sat down on a nearby stool. "You are cold, uncaring. You don't just kill, you slice and slash and want to hurt."
"I don't understand the problem here, you two." Nadia answered, an unimpressed tone to her voice. "I prefer to use melee weapons and I just want to make sure that my enemies are dead, that's all."
"Ah dove, yar just a violent bitch." Cain grunted. "Ain't exactly a problem; after all, big boy and me enjoy a bit of rough n' tumble."
"And yet you still are an uncivilized mercenary." Nadia muttered, taking a sip from her bottle of whiskey. "And there goes any hope that the Brotherhood could have taught you some manners."
"I've been 'round since the bombs dropped, little dove." Cain responded. "Too much of an old dog, ta learn some new tricks."
"Old dog, eh?" Cyrus inquired.
"Hoy big boy, take a step back." Cain growled. "I might be an old fuck, but ain't time ta put me out ta pasture."
Nadia and Cyrus looked at the Ghoul mercenary before they soon broke into peals of laughter, causing Cain to offer the two a foul look. The laughing duo soon became a trio, as a new figure made his presence known. It was an old man, dressed in a dirty robe covered in stains and stitches. The old man had wrinkled skin covered in faded scars and a snowy white beard and hair, but had pale blue eyes that twinkled with intelligence. Nadia, Cyrus and Cain turned to face this old man, interested looks etched on all three of their faces.
"Well lookie here, it's the old coot." Cain muttered. "Whaddya doin' here, eh? Thought you turned tail and fucked off."
"I was planning on leaving here, once the dust had settled, at least until the Raiders came back." The old man answered. "It seems cruel now to leave, given that Carbon is reeling and is in need of assistance."
"And you think that you will be helpful?" Nadia inquired.
"Well, I do have some experience with leading people." The old man chuckled. "And the people of Carbon seem to accept me, as being their new leader, at least until a more permanent solution is found."
"You, leader?" Cyrus stated. "Doubt it would work."
"I think you'll find I'm full of surprises." The old man retorted. "Oh, but where are my manners? You can call me Christopher, or Chris if you wish."
"Thank you for the kindness, but I doubt we will be staying here long." Nadia answered. "We're expected to return to the Brotherhood base by tomorrow, and we only stopped off here as a way to celebrate."
"Ah, well then enjoy the beer." Christopher retorted. "It is on the house."
With that, the old man turned and exited the bar, leaving the three Brotherhood members to enjoy their alcohol. Silence soon reigned, before Nadia began to chuckle in amusement. Cain and Cyrus turned to face their comrade, interested looks on both of their faces.
"What's funny?" Cyrus asked.
"I finally figured out who that old man is." Nadia explained. "The name is a dead giveaway."
"Whaddya talking about, dove?" Cain inquired. "He's just some old codger, with a few loose screws."
"If that helps you sleep at night Cain, believe that." Nadia responded, smiling. "But I doubt most people would appreciate you referring to the Vault Dweller like that."
"Vault Dweller?" Cyrus asked. "That's the old man?"
"I believe he is, yes." Nadia stated. "I guess heroes don't die after all; they just fade into the history books."
And my Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel story is done and dusted. Was it any good? Because honestly, I liked writing this a lot but I'm unsure if anyone else will share my opinion. But anyway, I hope you guys and gals did enjoy this somewhat short piece!
Love,
The Desert Dancer