I wrote this after a random encounter I witnessed in Fallout 3, it reminded me why I prefer playing as a morally good character. For those who don't know about this, what follows is the result of causing Vault 101 to detonate in the quest: Trouble on the Homefront. I did rush this so I'm not 100% happy with it, but I'm proud of it all the same. Enjoy.
"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." ― Kahlil Gibran
Yao Guai, rad-scorpions, wild dogs. There was nothing in the dead night of the wastes that could shake the confidence of the Lone Wanderer. He'd walked across the wastes with his head held high, fearing no one and nothing.
His leather armor made hardly a sound as he walked through the night, whilst a feint glow radiated from his pip boy. It didn't generate much light, but it could be just spotted if one was looking for it over the rocky landscape of the Capital Wasteland.
Slung over his shoulder was an old sniper rifle, it's as surface scratched and scarred as the wasteland itself, and on his belt in a tanned leather holster, holding a .44 magnum.
Alongside him walked another figure, Jericho, a balding former raider, now companion to the wanderer, the two of them traversing the wastes side by side. Of course we could not forget the third member of the party, Dogmeat, as he trotted alongside his master as well, his tongue hanging from his mouth in a way that made him a sight that even the old raider could smile at.
The three of them had walked in silence, stopping for a smoke and drink every so often as they looked for a place to set up camp. They were far enough in to the middle of no where that no could learn of their actions or have any one like the Regulators on their list of problems.
Before long a voice broke the silence, although it was not one from either of the two renegades, and it certainly wasn't Dogmeat. It came from off in the distance, but it was close enough to gain their attention, loud enough to send the two of them to the ground with their rifles raised.
"What do you reckon boss?" Jericho asked just above a whisper.
"We move in and check it out. It's probably just some caravan." replied the Wanderer "Good timing too, I was just getting hungry and Dogmeat ate our last squirrel." he said with a malicious smirk.
"I'm assuming you're not going to be paying for it then?"
The wanderer let out a chuckle. "You know me too well Jericho." he said, and the two of them shared the wanderer's wolfish grin, and began to creep forward.
The shroud of night covered their approach, their targets were below them in a gulley off the side of the road. It had been a while since the two of them had seen any body out in the wastes, and their supply of ammo was awfully large. Not to mention heavy. So if this action didn't fill their stomachs, it would at least lighten the load a little. Besides, they were doing a favor of feeding the bodies of their victims to the local wildlife.
As they neared the edge of the gulley, they took cover behind a cluster of rocks, the voices were louder now, and sense could be made of their words when before it was but a distant murmur. The two of them looked out from behind their cover, only to find that this wasn't a caravan. Not even a pack of raiders.
Their prey was a squad of Enclave soldiers, three of them donning suits of power armor, lead by a uniformed officer. At least they would have an excuse to use ammo.
"Jesus Christ, what's the fuckin' Enclave doing here? I thought they were taken care of." Jericho cursed.
"It doesn't matter what they're doing here," the Wanderer spoke "because they're gonna be gone pretty soon." the wanderer said as he unslung his sniper rifle, the safety clicking to signify that it was ready to fire.
Jericho did the same, pulling out his assault rifle. "I like the way you-" he stopped and took another glance at the group bellow them. "Hey, who's that piece of ass they got with 'em?" he said, motioning to a fifth party member in the group bellow.
The wanderer took a look through the scope, scanning the small crowd until his sights rested on a young woman. She was surrounded by the soldiers, two on either flak to her, the officer at her front. When her face entered his sights he lowered his rifle to look down on her with his own eyes, his ears picking up the conversation that took place below.
"-please! I'm from Vault 101, you have to help me!"the girl pleaded.
"We will gladly help you madam." the officer answered. "You are very fortunate to have found us before the raiders did. Did I hear you say that you are from Vault 101?"
"Yes, my father was the overseer. But the vault it-"
"Do you happen to remember the location of your vault?" the officer cut in, causing the wanderers brow to raise in suspicion.
"Y-yes, I've got the coordinates here on my pip-boy... Why?"
"Verification purposes mam, May I see it?" he asked, extending an open hand.
"Of course." she said as she began to remove the device from her wrist. Once she pulled the glove off, she slipped the pip-boy off of her arm and placed it in the officers hand. "Here."
The man took the pip-boy gladly, and turned his back to the girl and began to examine the device, twisting nobs and causing numerous beeps and clicks to sound off from the small wrist worn machine. Soon a smile crossed his face. One that made the wanderers blood run cold, even from that distance.
"Thank you very much for your assistance, Miss." he turned to the soldier surrounding them. "Execute her." he ordered and the soldiers positioned around the girl raised their plasma rifles, aiming them right at her.
"Wait, no!" Amata pleaded before the vicinity was lit up in an emerald green glow as the plasma rifles discharged, sending super heated matter at the girls body, her screams echoing across the wastes and into the ears of the wanderer, who sat there. Frozen from the events that had just occurred in front of his eyes.
"Boss?" he heard Jericho ask. But he did not respond. At least not with words. Instead his brow furrowed, and he raised his sights meeting the head of one of the soldiers. His response was a gunshot, one that sent the helmeted head clean off it body.
The pack of soldiers panicked, and quickly scanned the vicinity for the shooter. The wanderer used this confusion to fire again. This time hitting one of the plasma rifles causing it to explode in its owners grasp, who screamed as what was left of the plasma burned through his armor and into his flesh.
Jericho took this as a signal to attack, and began firing wildly at their prey, his bullets however not doing as much damage as some pinged off of the power armor.
Dogmeat barked savagely and charged into the fray, his sights set on the unarmored Officer, who in a panic began to run.
The remaining soldier exchanged fire with his ambushers for but a few seconds before he too fell to the ground screaming, blood seeping out of his armor and into the earth.
The Wanderer and Jericho finally made their way into the gulley, treading through the small field of corpses to the screaming officer, who tried desperately to pull his leg out of the merciless jaws of Dogmeat, who growled viciously as he kept the coward in his grip.
"Dogmeat, that's enough!" his master ordered, and the canine reluctantly let the man go, not before leaving one of the officers legs as savaged as possible.
The man scrambled away, trying to climb out of the gulley, shear terror gripping his heart. However the wanderer was not letting him go that easily, grabbing the man by the ankl, pulling him back down and throwing him the ground.
The two men (and dog) stood over him now, listening to the cries that emitted from the broken man that laid before them.
"No! Please! I beg of you! Have mercy!" he cried as tears rolled down his face.
"Pathetic, let's kill him now." Jericho insisted.
Oh the wanderer would kill him, just not yet. He knelt down beside the man, their eyes meeting.
In officers eyes laid true terror, the eyes of a man who was looking death in the face and feared every part of it.
And then there was the Wanderer, there was no terror in his eyes, for he was fear taken form. The cold, placid cruelty that was spoken of in hushed tones was not there either. Only a deep, silent and merciless rage.
"Mercy?" he asked his voice low at first, his eyes reflecting all the horrors that laid within, all of the cruelty he was capable of inflicting. All of that however was gone in a moment, as within that second he transformed into rage incarnate as he grabbed his quarry by the collar and began to shout with a voice that would cause the devil himself to cringe.
"That woman came to you for help! And you shot her like an animal! You're sick! You're scum! You're-!"
"Like you!" the man shouted back, causing silence to settle on the gulley. None could ever know how much courage it took for that officer to speak back like that.
"I know who you are. I know what you have done. You're just as bad as the whole Wasteland put into a box. How many innocent people have you killed? How many have you committed to slavery? How many men have you tortured? How many women have you ravaged? Countless!"
"Shut up." the wanderer warned, bearing his teeth.
"I may do what I do, but I'm following orders!" he cried out, tears now running down his cheek "You, you just do them because you can! Because you're a monster!"
Having heard enough, the Wanderer shoved the man back to the ground stood up and pulled out his magnum, raising it to meet the officers head.
"Long Live the Encla-!" the man screamed before he was silenced.
The wanderer slowly lowered his pistol. He tried his best, but the officers words had hit him in a soft spot. He had his thoughts about the things that he had done in the past, but he was able to suppress those thoughts. He had been able to push away the memory of his father, and how disappointed he had looked, and yet there they were again, floating in his mind as fresh as the day it occurred. Now that someone had said something... it felt as bad as any wound that he had persevered, and he felt that the aftermath would be worse.
He turned away from the body of the officer, his stride leading him towards the victim of his own actions. Jericho and Dogmeat just watched, as he strode over to the body of the girl, who laid in a pool of blood and cooling plasma.
He knelt down beside her, his voice caught in his throat. His eyes now devoid of everything. There was no unbridled rage, no twisted cruelty, no evil. There was nothing, nothing but two gaping holes that lead to the emptiness that was his soul.
His hand slowly went from his side, and into hers, his calloused fingers interlocking with her smooth ones. He flinched as he felt her squeeze his hand, and he looked up to see her eyes meeting his as well.
He was ready for the curses, ready for the wave of damnation to wash over him. Ready for her to hate him. But it never came. All he received was a small, fragile smile.
"Amata..." He said, his voice strained as he fought off a feeling he had thought left him a long time ago.
"Conner..." she said weakly, "I always knew I'd be seeing you again someday... I just wish I had more time-"
"Don't speak like that," ordered the Wanderer, his voice now layered with grief. "I have a place not far from here, Tenpenny Tower. We'll get you patched up and you'll be living in luxury before long." he said as a hopeful smile crossed his face.
Amata slowly shut her eyes, blinking away tears as she too smiled.
"That sounds nice," she began, "but I think we both know that that's not gonna happen..." she said as she took her other hand from her wound, and slowly placed it on his cheek, causing him to flinch slightly as blood warmed his face.
He closed his eyes, refusing to let tears fall.
"Amata..." he spoke, before his eyes opened to reveal the full extent of his sadness. "I am so, so sorry, I'm so sorry and ashamed of what I did to you. I-"
He was silenced as she used the last of her strength to pull him down, her lips meeting his for one last time. As they parted, an unsteady breath escaped them both, the faces still inches away from each other.
"I was never angry with you," she said, "I was sad... because I thought the boy I fell in love with had died out in the wastes."
The wanderer shifted slightly at the memories of a time long forgotten, a time when he knew kindness and love.
"He did die out here," he replied solemnly as his eyes drew shut, "and I don't know if he can comeback."
"Not even for me?" she asked as her eyes slowly opened to look upon him. "Could he come back? I don't need him long, just so he can be with me now..."
A smile, the kind that bordered upon happiness and grief appeared upon his lips as he looked down on her, his eyes showing for such a rare a moment; compassion, kindness and love. Things that were said to be beyond his capability.
She smiled at this, knowing that within him was the boy she grew up with, the boy who had watched her shyly from a distance, the boy that could only admit his feelings as he was forced from their home. The boy who returned, and the man who sat with her now.
Not another word was said, for their was no need, all that needed to be said had been done. And finally, her eyes began to close, and she felt the embrace of a better world take her into its arms.
As her eyes had closed, her hand fell from his cheek, leaving him stained with the blood of the girl he had grown up with, the girl he had fallen in love from a distance, the girl he had left behind and the woman that now laid dead in his arms.
Slowly he stood from her, his eyes never leaving her lifeless form. As he stood there watching, waiting for her to move once more, he felt Dogmeat push his wet nose into his palm as he tried to get his master's attention.
He heard the soil crunch behind him as Jericho approached.
"Hey, you alright?" his eyes followed his partner to the body of the young woman."Who was she?" he asked finally.
"No one, just..." the Wanderer replied, " somebody that I used to know." he said, before walking off into the night.