For What It's Worth
Two years. It's been two damn years since I stepped out of The Vault. Two years since my father died. Two years since I became the supposed 'hero' of this place. And two years... since I lost everything.
My name's Kyle, Kyle Silva. I'm twenty-one years old. Now you're probably sitting there wondering: what the hell does this guy look like? Well, I'll tell you. I'm Caucasian for one thing; my eyes are blue, my hair is bed wrangled, and I have a bit of a beard on my chin that resembles Machiavelli's. Often I wear a Mercenary Veteran outfit, accompanied by my lucky pair of sunglasses. They help quite a bit when you live in this sun scorched desert that is the wasteland.
On my back, I've got my personal favorite weapon, a gun known a "Lincoln's Repeating Rifle". I found this nice piece of work in the National History Museum sometime back, but it was not at all easy to get. On my side, I've got a very special weapon: it's human made but I know no one else in the world has one. It's a 500 magnum, a very powerful handgun. You're probably wondering where I got this beast, and I'll tell you right now that I didn't find it already made. I found the blueprints on an old computer. I'm guessing it belonged to more than one person, because I could just barely read the names "Smith & Wesson" on the side of the computer. When I got a good look at the prints, I nearly started drooling. I had to have it.
I downloaded the blueprints to my Pip-Boy and head straight for the only place that I knew where I could make it, The Pitt. It took me a good three weeks to make the damn monster, but it was well worth it in the end. The only pain about it is, the ammo is specially made. So I have to go back to The Pitt every so often to make the ammo myself. This gun can take a Death Claws head clean off, and yes, I know from personal experience.
But you don't wanna hear that. You probably think that I'm going to go on some mindless prattle about how I fought against everything the wastes threw against me, made the water clean, and saved the day like the classic good guy stories you hear about. I'm not going to though. I have something that you need to know about me. I won't bore you with too many details, but... there are a few things I need to get out to you.
I've tried to do my very best for these people, and a lot of them are grateful for it. But it just seems that no matter how hard I try, nothing ever changes. The Raiders are still killing, and the Enclave are still out there, no matter how small they are.
When I left The Vault, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I knew that I had to leave, but there was something holding me back. There was a part of me that wanted to go, mainly because I always wanted to see the outside world. But there was another part of me that didn't want to go. I knew these people, and their safety mattered to me. Still, I couldn't stay. Not after my dad left and everything went totally nuts. Not after I killed all those security guards just to make an easy path for myself.
Now I have a lot of things out here that most people don't, namely a place to stay, security, food, clean water, and enough caps to buy all of Megaton. But I'm not in the least bit happy. Many people would call me ungrateful, but they don't get it. Yeah, I've got everything that I could want... but I don't have what I need. When I stepped out of the Vault, my old home, I lost a lot. I lost my father, I lost my home, but most importantly... I lost the love of my life. Amata.
