Author's Opening:

Imagine that time is little more than a clock. Now turn that clock back to the 1950's; the world is recovering from the Second World War, communism is flourishing in eastern Europe, and the days of Apple Pie and Happiness are upon us, and you'll see the starting point of the setting of this world. This is the time period in which the current time-line deviates from our setting. In this time, Technology makes great strides in terms of power and intelligence, and biological warfare is harnessed greatly. Cars running off of Hydrogen Fusion, hovering combat robots equipped with plasma guns and flamethrowers, and most importantly, Armors that could stand up to a tank with ease, titled Power Armor; have become commonplace. The government is working on a way to survive nuclear warfare and disease. These are only a few of the advancements this world has made over ours. But, these great things come and a terrible price, turn the clock on this new reality forward to October 23, 2077. The world has fallen apart; Communism in Asia is still remaining steadfast, world resources of oil and Uranium have all but run out, The United Nations has been disbanded, The United States has been reformed into 13 commonwealths, Canada has been violently annexed, and Europe has reverted to a New Dark Age, having little to survive on anymore, and to top it all off, the world is about to, in a few short hours, be devastated by nuclear warfare. Thousands are saved in huge underground fallout shelters, Vaults as they are called, but most end up dead or worse due to incredibly terrible things done to sabotage the vaults. Almost all of the vaults were insane social experiments; gender ratios, neurotoxins, biological super-viruses, combat training, and these are just scratching the surface. The dweller's sanity broke down, most within ten years, twenty tops. A few vaults that were set as control vaults, such as 101 and 13, managed to beat the average by about 180 years, but only because they broke the rules in some way, shape, or form. Outside the vaults though, that was a different story, in the early weeks after the bombs fell, the world fell under a great atmospheric event, known forever in those few souls who survived as the Black Rain. Highly radioactive rain, created from the ash and soot that had risen from the devastation, plagued the entire earth for many days; afterward it wouldn't rain for close to 250 years. Afterwards, the world became a dead wasteland, clean water was a dream, and every time you turned around the world was trying to put a bullet in the back of your skull, doesn't sound quite as pleasant as at first, huh? Many who survived the actual bombs and the radiation afterwards became horribly mutated, resembling corpses, they would become known as ghouls, both feral and sane. Ghouls would be discriminated against as a new race which humans, commonly nicknamed by ghouls 'smoothskins', frequently believed to be nothing more than brainless zombies, often not regarding them any different than their feral brethren. But humans were not the only ones to survive the bombs, while most of the earth's species had been exterminated, some in a sense, evolved into incredibly deadly predators. The remaining government had become so corrupt it was basically a new spin on the Nazi regime. Things had changed drastically in such a short amount of time. And I'm here to record the aftermath of these events as one of many survivors.

Prologue

War. War never changes. Since the dawn of human kind when our ancestors discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been shed for anything from god, to justice, to simple psychotic rage. In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer, and the world was plunged into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation. But it was not as most had pictured the end of the world, but simply the prologue to another gruesome chapter in human history. But war, war never changes. In the early days, thousand were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters, known as vaults. But when they emerged they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them. Humanity's last supposed hope, and this way of saving the human race had been in vain, though, the creators of these shelters systematically designed each of the vaults to fail, and few ever were able to respond to an all clear signal. But humanity's great desire to survive gave humans not sealed in vaults the ability to somehow survive throughout the greatest trials any human had ever experienced. They were granted the ability and psychological strength to survive in quite literally, a hell on earth. The creatures of the world had been changed from peaceful, nomadic creatures to dangerous and vile hunters able to kill a human in one swift strike. Our hero was born into this hell, and was by the grace of god, capable of saving it. He changed this hell into a livable place again. But there were many who attempted to shatter our hopes of peace and happiness. Infamous factions that plagued the earth since the bombs fell and ever since…Now for the most part eradicated, but small pockets of the stronger ones stand firm against decades of force. Some, in response, have sealed their doors forever, never allowing anyone entrance…These strongholds are a nuisance if little else, except one fortress off the coast of the NCR. The Enclave oil rig, destroyed twice, rebuilt on dead brotherhood corpses each time, the legend is…the Enclave and their hostilities towards the mutated peoples of the world has led them down a road of chaos and isolation. About 60 years ago, a small division of the brotherhood went rogue, and eventually sold the eastern brotherhood down the river, in a manner of speaking. We branded them Outcasts, and most either were killed in the wasteland, or joined the Enclave's upper ranks. Few returned to the Brotherhood of Steel, but those who did, such as our hero's father would grow to become legends. Our hero had a strained relationship with his father, as he knew his father for 13 years as a vile, cynical man who believed that the only way to save the world was to burn it to the ground and start from scratch. They didn't acknowledge the other as father or son, even now, they simply identify one another more as comrades fighting for the same goal in different ways. Our hero's father was a hero just the same as his son would become, but merely hit a few, very bloody, bumps in the road. In recent years, a band of Neo-Outcasts as the call themselves, became the closest things we had to a real threat anymore. They had destroyed areas of mass importance, recovered technology for the Enclave from Adam's Air force base that was of legend, and most of all, for three weeks, they compromised the power grid in the Mojave Wasteland, giving a chance for the Mariposa super mutants to strike back, one last time. Combat ended with minimal losses on either side, but massive damage done to power producing areas of the NCR. Above the despicable scum that was the remnants of the Enclave and Outcasts there were three beyond infamous Brothers in Arms who ran the Enclave, the Neo-Outcasts, and the remnants of the Mariposa Super Mutants from the sidelines. Protector Henry Isaac Casdin, last of the Original Outcasts, Casdin over the years had suffered massive radiation damage and was believed to have been exposed to large amounts of FEV, and it's an old urban legend he never takes off his helmet for fear of being shot down by his own men. Colonel Augustus Martin Autumn, current head of the Enclave, and a real old bastard. After the Oil rig collapsed the first time, thanks to the chosen one, his father was killed in the fight. Autumn would become an emotionless man bent on revenge against a harsh wasteland; the Colonel would raise Raven Rock in capital wasteland, and eventually rebuild the Enclave oil rig. And lastly, Director Robert Christian Lee, former head of the now abandoned Bethesda Biological Research Facility. This psycho is a real piece of work, while the other two have been around for a few decades wreaking havoc, this crazy son-of-a-bitch has been around since before the bombs fell, used a vile poison used to kill FEV infected cells and he modified it, to use a chemical reaction that would retain normal human body cells replication rate and not slow at all, so that he could live forever. He is our hero's archenemy even above the Colonel and the Protector, because he's the one in the very end who calls the shots and runs the show. Mariposa was his creation, he also designed the schematics for the oil rig that would become the Enclave base, and sent a anonymous message to The Brotherhood of Steel 80 years ago suggesting they head east and scourge the Pitt. So, in a way, he created the Super Mutants, the Enclave, and the Outcasts. This Sick man's infamy is known above all others, a larger threat than the Master himself and more despicable than the lowly raiders who kill anything they see.

Chapter 1: First encounters

Screams were heard down the hall. The power surged, and the screams stopped. I was a young man at that point, and had had a very strained relationship with my father, but it still wasn't a pleasant thing to hear my father being violently electrocuted for a crime I thought I knew. I was so happy I didn't have to witness it, or at least I thought I would be. I have lived in this base for as long as I can remember, and all of my memories are of the ice cold iron walls that surrounded the base. The only thing warm about this place was the flamethrowers blast when suppressing riots, and the sun beating down on your neck. The people weren't friendly, the slop they called food was ice cold, and no matter how hot it felt from the sun, the iron walls of the fortress never rose a degree.

My name is Jack E. Brown and my father was the legendary lone wanderer. He was the infamous bastard who burned the capital wasteland to the ground and rebuilt it from the ground up, only to be taken away from his work and locked away here for 13 years. But regardless he was my father, and regardless had just been violently killed. The soldier who approached me after the execution asked me to retrieve my father's personal belongings and take them with me when I exited.

I knew the only thing he had was a journal of his past, things that could be used to destroy the wasteland many times over, and judging by the look on the man's face, they were quite interested in that prospect. I took the journal, and as I was leaving decided to use a few of my tricks I had been taught as a bit of self insurance. By the time I left, there was an electronics disabler in place, along with enough C-4 to blow the place higher than a strung out drug addict. I walked out the main gates proudly with Tesla Soldiers each giving one another signals and arming themselves to prepare for the next few minutes behind me. They knew I wasn't going to go down without a fight, I would fight them to the grave. The years outside the cell of a father who hated the Enclave allowed my animosity towards them to grow and flourish. Now that these men had killed my father for something I never knew, the animosity had grown up into full hatred and desire for blood. I was determined to escape, and destroy these people forever.

When I hit the last main gate to the civilian barracks an Enclave Officer I knew well stopped me and asked, "Would you kindly show me your identification sir?" When I told him that it was me and that he knew me, all he said was,

"Sorry Jack, orders are orders. If I don't stop you here, they kill me. I'd let you go if I could, but I have orders, now would you kindly show me your I.D.?" The officer was a polite gentleman, strictly business for most, but he and I had grown up together. He was 10 when I arrived so we grew up as the only two children on the base.

My only response was "Sorry Andrew, but I have to keep my father's secrets safe from those who need them." I flipped the trigger for the E.M.P. and seconds later I heard Andrew's radio go nuts.

"WE NEED HELP! THE LOCKS HAVE DISENGAGED! NO! STAY BACK! HHHHHEEEEEEEEE_" The radio went static at first and then dead silent. The voice of an old man broke the silence.

"Officer Andrew Ryan, your orders stand. Complete the objective."

We both sighed and shook hands; he handed me his old 10mm submachine-gun, and I proceeded to leave. Our last words to each other were,

"Andrew, if you ever get tired of these old coots and old man Autumn upstairs, there will always be a place for you in my shack."

"…Take care of yourself Jack. If I live to see the day when we're both old men, would you kindly get touch with me?"

I never understood why he said 'would you kindly' in every request of his, but nonetheless he was a good man. I ran up to the military truck I drove around base and tossed the submachine gun in the back, and picked up my Thompson and my dad's old mask, put on the mask and opened fire randomly to deter being followed. All they would see is a madman in a Turkish mask with a Tommy gun blowing crap to pieces. I felt in that minute, a bond between father and son that I had always heard about, but never truly felt. As my father before me I had bitten off more than I could chew, taking on the entire Adam's Air Force Base by myself, except rather than breaching in order to complete a mission, I was a prisoner, desperate for escape. As I ran lower on ammo I tossed it in the back and picked up my father's M1014, fired off two shots, reloaded, and drove off. At that point everyone was either dead, occupied, or too scared to contend with me. I rolled up to the access gate to civilian quarters to stock up, and because that's the only way out.

I had an Enclave officer's uniform and hat on, so the guard just thought I was your standard officer until he was pumped full of a twenty gauge shotgun shell. I saw the guys I had grown up with approach me, but not to ask for a ride out, but rather to give me a hand with the stocked up weapons cache I had hidden in a pre-war cellar. After the gear was loaded, I hopped onto the bed of the truck and handed them several assault rifle and a couple of RPG-7s.

One of the wastelanders asked me "What's this all about?"

I smiled at him and said while climbing through a window, "There ain't no rest for the wicked. Now go in there and give em hell."

I drove right into the barricades with the truck, they didn't stand a chance. I had soldiers chasing me down with flaming artillery, so I jammed the shotgun on the gas and took out the Fat Man and 8 Mini-Nukes I had stolen from the armory, and climbed onto the roof armed it and stuffed them all in there so I wasn't constantly reloading. I launched the one, and all 8 fired off perfectly, and I realized they had gotten the Experimental MIRV my father had found in the National Guard Depot. Those who weren't killed in the initial explosion were delayed long enough by the wall of nuclear explosions, that I had gotten enough ground between me and the soldiers that they wouldn't be able to find me. After I escaped the headquarters of the, at the time, extremely dominant Enclave, I parked the truck and opened my dad's old notebook.

This old thing had seen years, maybe even decades of use and abuse. The thing was old, weathered, scorched; but that was what gave it it's charm to a degree. The thing was surprisingly organized and well kept on the inside, other than the rings left from my old man's shot glass of whiskey. I flipped through it and found a few clear pictures of the military base I had just escaped among dozens of blurry ones where my old man was being shot at by Tesla Soldiers. I discovered to my surprise that the base had grown significantly since it destroyed the citadel. My dad had all the old routes mapped out to the inch, every patrol and every weak point mapped out and even had a few play-by-plays for either one person, or a large squadron of people.

This was another one of my father's infamous achievements. In his early years before his capture, he had gone on a destructive tirade directed towards the brotherhood of steel after they overtook his father's laboratory and threw his dead body into the river in the madness. My father slaughtered hundreds of Enclave and Brotherhood alike. If you wore power armor that wasn't black and red, you were best to steer clear of him, however, he never laid a hand on Elder Lyons. Elder Lyons was his closest friend other than Charon, and the Elder was his mentor. He worked for Elder Lyons and took orders from him, but out of the sight of Lyons, he slaughtered the old man's troops like they were livestock. One of his last official brotherhood operations was to infiltrate Adam's Air Force Base and destroy it. In the end, he betrayed the brotherhood, sending down the intended airstrike on the citadel, rather than the Air Force Base. In the last minutes before the airstrike on the Citadel came down, he gave a radio signal to the old man, begging him to head to GNR. He did, and sure enough, it saved his life. But ever since that fateful evening when he violently destroyed the Citadel, Adam's Air Force Base grew to incredible strengths. It would become known as the East Coast Oil Rig much later, but it was a massive complex even by this point in time.

From here, I was planning a tactical invasion of Raven Rock, using that as the foundation to take on A.A.F.B and further unite the east coast. I flipped through the book looking for notes on raven rock, when I heard a voice behind me.

"I've gotta say kid, you've got guts; to take on all of Adam's Air Force base singlehandedly and actually scare them into submission, you have skill, but it's in the blood I suppose." I pointed a .44 magnum at the man behind me, tossing the journal to the side and he chuckled, "Is that any way to treat your makeshift uncle? Threatening me with a revolver that isn't cocked or loaded for that matter? You're a decent deceiver, but I can spot an unloaded gun a mile away." I spun around to see an aged ghoul I had never even seen before, let alone was related to. He smiled and said "You would probably remember me better if I still had skin, but the radiation I've been exposed to kills that hope. And even so, you still haven't seen me in anything other than photos since you were a very young kid."

"Who are you, what's your name?" I prepared to verify in the journal but it was gone. The old ghoul was quite tall and clearly faster than I had anticipated. A few moments later he opened the book and flashed it like a badge. An entire 2 pages was devoted to him, including several pictures, and a lot of small writing.

"My name is Charon; I'm your father's closest friend. And, against everything I stand for, have been assigned to retrieve you for your father, deliver you safely to the capital wasteland, and get you trained in basic combat. However, judging by the show I saw back at the prison sector of the base, something tells me we can start with more advanced techniques." I was simply stunned at first. He had tailed me for twenty miles without a vehicle, keeping himself under the radar the whole time, and even knew my revolver wasn't loaded, I was outright floored. Then something clicked in the back of my mind and threw it on the front burner.

"Wait. You said deliver me to my father. My father was just given the chair this morning. If you are who you say you are, you should know that…" By this point I had the revolver loaded with 3 shots. I armed the revolver and pointed it at the ghoul. In a flash, he grabbed the revolver chamber aimed it at his head and knelt down like a prisoner, his eyes glaring down at the ground.

He spoke in a tone like he was bargaining for his life, "Go ahead and shoot me in the head like I'm a brain-eating zombie. But your father is alive. All you heard were screams and a witnessed a power surge. For all you know, it could have been anyone in that chair. And this measly journal isn't the reason your old man should be 6 feet under right now. In fact..." was all he said as he struck a match with his spare hand and ignited the book. I watched, tears in my eyes as the piece of infamy and plethora of information burned. I had known it for years as the reason my life had been hell, just burn. Just like any old book, it burned to a black charcoal, completely and utterly destroyed.

Or so I would think for a long time.