The Mechanist
Author: Mccrapper
Chapter 1: Andale
Note: The Mechanist featured in this fic is a different character than the one featured in fallout 3. when I am speaking about that Mechanist I will make an effort to point out that I'm speaking about that one. Also, this story begins just after James has left the vault, however the Lone Wanderer was murdered by the Overseer's thugs before she could escape.
When you see the Bold words in the story it means The Mechanist is thinking and when it's in Italics it's a flashback. (thanks for the idea, Ballott.)
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Something doesn't seem right, though The Mechanist. There is something definitely wrong here. He was walking through the wasteland when he had stumbled across a few buildings that weren't just piles of rubble. As if that wasn't strange enough, they looked lived in. He hadn't heard of any settlement out here, and there wasn't enough resources nearby for it to be a hermit, so whoever lived here must trade with the caravans, but then again, none of the caravans came out this way. He pulled out his gauss rifle and crept silently up to one of the houses, not an easy feat when you're wearing T-51 b power armor, but the Mechanist managed. He looked through a crack in the boards that blocked the windows, and saw a father and son sitting at a dinner table while the mother served them each a huge slab of meat pie. They were all wearing pre-war clothes, and it reminded him of Tenpenny Tower.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he heard someone whisper behind him. He spun around and pointed his rifle at an old man in a sweater vest.
"Don't shoot, I'm only trying to warn you! It isn't safe here, you must go!"
"You had better start talking before I start shooting, old man."
"The people here in Andale are wicked! You need to get out of here before they catch you!"
"What are you talking about? It's just a regular family in there. Besides, I know how to take care of myself, I've dealt with worse."
"Don't say I didn't warn you." said the old man as he walked off towards one of the houses, muttering to himself. Fuckin' psycho. thought The Mechanist as he walked up to the front door and knocked on it. A woman in a business suit opened the door and smiled.
"Oh, a visitor! What can I do you for, mister...?"
"You can call me The Mechanist. I work with the trade caravans from Canterbury Commons, trying to keep the wasteland safe and well supplied. I didn't know there was a settlement here, otherwise we would have came by a long time ago. Do you have any immediate need for medicine or food?"
"Oh, no thank you. We have all the food we could ever want in Andale. In fact, why don't you stay for supper?"
"No, I actually have other matters to attend to tonight. I can tell the traders there's a settlement here, if you'd like."
"Yes, more people around these parts has been something my husband has wanted for a while now,"
That's a weird thing to say. he thought. "In fact, why don't I introduce you to my husband, I'm sure he'd love to... meet you."
Something about the way she paused before she said meet disturbed him. He was beginning to think that Andale was hiding something. Maybe the old man was right.
"No, I really gotta go, it was nice talking to you."
"Goodbye, then." she looked disappointed, even angry as she said it. She closed the door, and he walked up the street. Time to pay that old man a visit.
"Look, I can't tell you, all you need to know is that it isn't safe here."
"My patience is wearing thin, old man."
"I have a name, you know."
"Oh yeah? And what is it?'
"Theodore Harris."
"Whatever. I saw a kid in one of the houses. If it isn't safe here, I need to know if he's in danger."
"No, he's not. At least, not physically."
"What do you mean not physically."
"Morally. He's in danger morally. Terrible things happen in that shed, and down in that basement. Once he comes of age, they'll get him in on it, too.
"Get him in on what? I need to know what I'm up against if I'm going to help him. How many people live here?"
"Six, not including myself. Two of them are children."
"Alright, I guess you aren't going to be much help beyond that, but I'll take what I can get. Thanks, Teddy"
Looks like I'm going to have to take what's her face up on her dinner offer. I need to know what's wrong so I can help. He was sitting at a campfire he had built in one of the destroyed houses on the outskirts of Andale, where the flames couldn't be seen by any of the resident's houses. But I can't suddenly show up after refusing. I suppose I could use the fake injury routine. If it works for raiders, it can work for me. He checked his old messenger bag for a blood pack; he usually carried one for situations just like this. After a few seconds of sifting through assorted junk, he found a half empty blood pack. He took out a rusty old combat knife and removed the left arm segment of his power armor and punched an ugly hole in it with the knife, but he made sure it was small enough to be easily repairable. He slipped the armor back on and dumped the contents of the blood packet onto his arm, making it look like he'd been shot. He kicked dust onto the fire and began to walk towards the house of the woman, moaning loudly so that anyone nearby would know he was hurt. He opened the door and fell in. Just like you would think, 300 pounds of man and armor falling to the ground makes an awful racket. Two men holding guns ran in from the kitchen, and so did the woman he had talked to before.
"Don't shoot him, Bill! He's The Mechanic! The one I told you about!"
The Mechanic?! Is it really that hard to remember Mechanist? He thought with a flash of anger
"I need a place to stay for awhile. I was shot by a mercenary."
"Shucks, you scared us! We almost shot you! Of course you can stay here!" One of the men, wearing a plaid shirt reached out his hand and helped him up, while the other guy reached for his gauss rifle. The Mechanist scrambled up before he could grab the gun, wincing at the fake pain in his arm to add effect. The two men exchanged a short look of anger. They wanted him unarmed.
"Well, you're to late for supper, we were just about to go to bed."said one of the men.
"And I was just about to go home," said the other man, the one with the plaid shirt "Say, why don't you spend the night at my house, the basement is quite comfortable."
I'm sure it is, asshole. I'm sure it is.
"Sorry, mister, we don't allow guns in the house." said the man with the plaid shirt, who's name turned out to be Jack Smith. He had led The Mechanist over to his house and introduced him to his family. They seemed like agreeable people, something that The Mechanist found deeply disturbing.
"What about that pistol on your hip, Jack?" asked The Mechanist in a kind of offhand way.
"Well, I plum forgot about that!" he said with an air of good humour, but not before his eyes betrayed a second of cold anger. He walked outside and placed the pistol on a cinderblock outside the door. Now that he was unarmed, The Mechanist felt no qualms about relinquishing his own gun, and he propped it up outside the door. Using a sleight of hand maneuver, he took his combat knife out of his bag and slipped it into the gap between the right calf plate of his armor and the recon armor underneath.
"Well, I'll show you where you'll be bedding down for tonight, Mechanic," said Jack cheerfully, but he was noticeably anxious. "It's right through here, in the basement." He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked a door that led off from the kitchen. H e motioned for The Mechanist to go first down the dark stairwell. Yeah, I go first so you can stab me in the lung so I can't scream. Fucker. It was too dark to see the bottom, but he went ahead anyway. He listened to the steps of Jack behind him, waiting until they stopped. But it wasn't Jack's feet that stopped, it was his. They had a veritable torture chamber in their basement, and everything smelled of the sickly-sweet scent of blood.
"A man has to feed his family, mister. Why, if you can't do that, you're no kind of a man at all." The Mechanist turned to see Jack blocking the stairs, revving up a Ripper that was rusted from being constantly exposed to blood.
"You're fucking sick. These are... were... people!" shouted The Mechanist as he motioned to the mangled corpses and organs lying on butcher blocks in the middle of the dungeon.
"Quiet down, my boy is trying to sleep." hissed Jack, with none of his usual good humour. He was all business now.
"Well, It's good to see you're looking out for him." said The Mechanist sarcastically as he pulled out his knife.
"You may have your fancy armor, but this puppy'll open you up like a tin can!" spat Jack as he dashed towards The Mechanist. The Mechanist slashed out towards his face, leaving a deep gash from cheekbone to cheekbone, cutting through the cartilage of the man's nose.
"GYAAA!" he screamed as he fell to the ground clutching at his mangled face, the dropped Ripper throwing up sparks as it ground against the concrete floor. He heard footsteps overhead, and muffled shouting. Jack's wife and his neighbor burst through the door and ran down the stairs, both of them weilding sawed-off shotguns. Before they could fire, The Mechanist through the knife right into the man's throat, and dropped to one knee to pick up the Ripper. He was lucky he ducked when he did, because Linda fired at what would have been head height had he not ducked. The buckshot flew above his head and pierced jagged holes into the refrigerator behind him. He didn't hesitate. He jumped up and ran towards her, grinding the Ripper into her stomach. Blood spewed everywhere, and she shrieked in his ear. She fell to the ground, and he let the Ripper fall with her, the chain still tearing at her intestines. He bent over and retrieved his knife from the dead man's neck, and rounded on Jack, who had crawled into a corner and lay sobbing amongst the bloody bones. The Mechanist grabbed him underneath the armpits and roughly picked him up.
"Death isn't so noble when your family is on the receiving end, is it?" he shouted into the man's blood caked face.
"I just wa-wa-wanted my family to be sa-safe..." moaned Jack.
"You are nothing but fucking swine!" shouted The Mechanist. He threw the crying man to the ground and kicked him in the face as hard as he could. He was dead before his face even finished caving in.
The Mechanist calmly walked upstairs, and broke the knob off the door behind him. The kid didn't need to see what was down there. He left the house and retrieved his rifle. A bullet zinged past his head. Shit, the other guy's wife! He slung his rifle off his shoulder and looked around carefully. He spotted her on top of one of the houses. He shot off one round, the 2mm bullet hit her right in the chest and she fell backwards off of the roof.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" screamed Harris as he ran down the road towards The Mechanist. He leveled his gauss rifle, taking aim for the man's head, but he stopped. He warned me about them. Wouldn't say what exactly was wrong, but he did warn me none the less. He shouldered his rifle and opted instead to punch him in the stomach when he came close enough.
"You knew, all along! Why didn't you do anything?!"
Theodore managed to spit out one word between gasping for air. "...Family..."
"You were part of it?!" asked The Mechanist incredulously
"Years ago, yes. Wa-What about the children?"
"They're fine. I suggest you go collect them before they see what happened in that basement."
"Thank you. They were my family, and part of me hates you for killing them. But it needed to be done, for the children's sake. They need a fresh start."
"Take good care of them. I suggest you make your way to one of the larger settlements, because you can't stay here. Raiders will tear your ass apart, and I'll be god damned if I'm going to change the trader routes to make sure some old ex-cannibal gets supplies."
"I suppose I deserved that. So long... er.. I didn't catch your name."
"Call me The Mechanist."
