Prologue

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Walter

***

"Yes, Jenny, I'm sure. Don't you think I know the difference between a plant and a god damned piece of trash?" Walter snapped, hurt. "I'm an old fool, but I'm no stupid old fool." He ran his hand over the wrinkled skin of his forehead. It felt leathery and dirty beneath his fingers, and when he pulled the hand away, it was covered with sweat. He grunted, pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket, and swiped it across his brow. "I mean... this here was the real deal, Jenny. I'm talking about a green-as-God plant, growing right out in the wastes!"

Jenny flicked an ash off her cigarette into the tray on the table between them. She leaned back, crossed her legs, and blew smoke up into the air. Walter watched it swirl there a moment before dissipating into the dim light of the saloon. "I don't know Walt," she began. "Your age isn't doing you any favors anymore. Your eyes could have played a trick on you. Remember last week when you saw the 'flying saucer' over the Super-Duper Mart? I mean, Christ Walter! A plant in the wastelands... it's just not possible. The radiation don't let nothing live out there for long."

Her voice was soft and her eyes sweet, but her words cut. "Jenny, I will take you there! What are you going to say when this old fool lets you see his 'imaginary' plant in with your own two eyes?" Walter looked around Moriarty's Saloon, suddenly aware that his voice had grown a few decibels. Him and Jenny had a private booth off to the side, but he still had to watch his tongue. A living plant in the wastes was nothing to take lightly, and he figured it best if only he knew. And Jenny: after all, he had to tell someone, and the woman had always been kind to him... she even slept with him once, a lifetime ago, after a particularly long--and whiskey-filled--night at Moriarty's.

Jenny smirked at him and began rolling the cigarette around in her fingers. "Walter... this better not be some sort of trick. If it is, it's not very nice."

Walter put one hand over his heart and raised the other. "I'm too damn old to play tricks. I promise you Jenny. I'll take you tomorrow, first thing in the morning. It's not far from here. Meet up at the gates around... say nine o'clock?" He suddenly felt his old heart beating quicker. The thought of taking Jenny out into the wastes to see his plant was... exciting. It would be quite an adventure in his otherwise mundane little existence in Megaton.

Jenny studied him, playing with her cigarette. Walter swallowed and remembered the night she had slept with him. She's giving you the same eyes, Walter. She remembers to. "OK Walt," she said, breaking into his thoughts, "we'll go see your plant." She stood and stubbed her cigarette. "But it better be there! ...It's getting late, and I'm getting tired. I'll see you tomorrow." As she passed by him, he turned to watch her butt as she walked.

"Jenny," He called out to stop her, not really knowing why. She turned and Walter felt his throat tightened. Ask her back to your place you old fool! She's always been good to you, and maybe she even likes you. No, no that's stupid to think. But maybe she'd take pity on an old man and give you a screw to keep your mind at ease. He became aware that she was waiting for him to speak; watching him with a puzzled frown. He tripped over some words before finally saying, "I really did see that flying saucer."

She smiled at him and nodded her head. "I know you did Walt. I know you did."

She left, and the saloon seemed to grow colder and lonelier when she did. Walter sighed and looked around. Gob was manned at his usual position behind the bar; the ghouls grotesque face grimacing as he cleaned out some slop from a bowl. Colin Moriarty was sitting at the bar sipping on his patented nuka-whiskey drink and reading over some paperwork. The whore, Nova, was flirting with a young blond guy at a table near the staircase, and judging by the mans glazed-over look and goofy grin, she was going to get paid tonight. Walter had paid for her 'services' many times, but she was no Jenny. She was... used.

Walter sipped on some of his vodka and felt the booze starting to hit him. He glanced down at the near-empty glass and realized what a lightweight he'd become in his old age. He swirled it around a bit and downed the rest as Lucy West walked through the front doors to the saloon and sat in-

That was when Walter spied him--the sneaky devil--sitting at the opposite side of the bar, practically hidden amongst the shadows and the thin layer of cigarette smoke that hung about his table like a poisonous gas. His face was darkened, but Walter could make out the thin, long nose and chiseled jaw line beneath the brim of his black fedora. It was the guy who called himself: 'Mister Burke'.

Who does he think he is parading around the wastes in that fancy hat and suit? He think his shit don't stink like the rest of ours? Walter thought as he stalked up to the bar and ordered another vodka from Gob, tossed a few caps down, and took a seat to enjoy his drink. Probably up to no good. Guys like him never are.

Burke was speaking with another man, and if Walter didn't know any better, the other one looked like a ghoul beneath his heavy black trench coat and grey fedora. He wondered if it was one of Gob's friends, because no ghoul besides him was permitted inside Megaton's walls. Walter took a sip of his vodka and glared at Burke over the rim of the glass. The suited man cocked his head sideways for a moment, as if he were listening for something, then turned it mid-sentence towards Walter; his sunglass-tinted eyes fixing on Walter's own. Walter quickly pulled his gaze away and looked down at his Vodka: something about that man's look always gave him the creeps.

"Something on your mind tonight Walter?" Gob's coarse ghoul-voice came from behind the bar. Walter looked up at him, said nothing, and finished his drink. When the glass was empty, he gave Gob a friendly smile and nod, turned, and walked outside.

"Steady Walter," he commanded himself as his hands fell on the railing of the walkway outside. The cool night air hit him and his head had began to spin. "Lightweight," he muttered to himself and--using the railing--began slowly making his way to the Water Processing Plant where his tiny room and tiny bed awaited.

When he got there, he yanked the door open, slipped inside, and pulled it shut behind him. Water pipes and rusted metals and the thick stench of old, damp cloth greeted him; he'd had to wrap some of his old clothing around a broken water main that ran beneath the grated floor of the plant to help control a slow leak. He shuffled his way around a cardboard box full of tools and scrap metal and pushed the door open to his little bedroom in the back. The lonely twin-sized cot hung beside the wall waiting for him. He sighed.

As he laid back and let the gentle warmth of the booze settle his old bones down, he thought about the plant. It was a simple, small, green thing, but sitting out amongst the vast wastelands, it was transformed into a creature of beauty. Its thick, dewy green leaves had been calmly swaying in the breeze, and Walter could have sworn the earth around it looked different: like a patch over an old wound. Maybe it is a patch, and maybe it's finally time for this old earth to start healing itself. The thought was peaceful, and it led him into a deep sleep.

***

He woke up to the not-so-peaceful sound of someone damn-near banging his door in. "Son of a god damned bitch," Walter muttered as he struggled to get off the bed. As the years went on, so did the length of time it took him to get up in the morning. He slipped his feet into his work boots and went to the front door, cursing under his breath the whole way. "This better either be the girl of my dreams or God himself to tell me the world's ended," He shouted as he opened the front door.

Mister Burke stood in the mornings light with his hands folded in front of him and a wide grin plastered onto his chiseled jaw. Walter opened his mouth, but then another man--the ghoul who Burke was talking to at the bar the night before--shot around the corner of the building and shoved him inside. Walter tumbled backwards, tripped over a heap of scrap metal, and landed hard on his elbows and back. He groaned and winced in pain as Burke and his companion walked inside, closing the door behind them.

"On your feet old timer," Burke commanded, his voice as cool and collected as his suit was neat.

Walter looked from him to the ghoul and back to Burke. He felt a little angry and a lot confused; although the anger was being slowly replaced by fear. "What's going on here!?" He demanded and propped himself up sideways on his elbow. His bad knee sent an audible CRACK booming through the large room of the water plant as it bent.

"Please, sir," Burke began calmly as he removed his sunglasses, "to your feet. We can't speak like civilized men when your laying on the floor like a child, can we? I think not. Stand."

Walter swallowed and glanced over at the ghoul. A big, black 9mm was resting against his hip with the mother of all silencers wrapped around its nozzle. The ghoul's scarred and radiated face gave nothing of his emotions away. "Alright, OK. Give an old man a minute," Walter asked as he began the long, difficult climb to his feet.

"Winston, are you a ghoul or a monster? Help the old man up," Burke told the ghoul, apparently Winston the ghoul, who quickly obeyed, slipping his arms beneath Walter's own so gently, you would have never known he was the one who'd just tossed him to the ground. When Walter's feet were beneath him, he gave the ghoul a nervous nod of thanks and dusted his jumpsuit off. "So sorry about the rude entrance," Burke continued, putting his arms behind his back as he strolled around the plant looking at pipes. "This is a swell place Walter-oh, do you mind if I call you Walter?"

"People been calling me that for the last sixty-one years, don't see any reason why it won't do now."

Burke's face almost look insulted, but then the shit-eating grin wiped out any trace of it. "You maintain this place all by yourself?" Walter nodded. "Impressive. A man of your... advanced years can still be so useful... it's inspiring in a way, really. You know, where I come from-"

"And where would that be Mister Burke, if you don't mind me calling you Mister Burke."

Burke measured him with thoughtful eyes. "Just Burke is fine," He said and sat down on a water pipe near the back of the building. He folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath as he looked around the ceiling. "I come from so many places, sometimes I'm not even sure where the first one was. Tenpenny Tower is my home now though, that's the only place worth remembering. You've heard of Mr. Tenpenny, haven't you Walter? He's an awfully old man, like yourself, but he does find his uses. Also like you."

"Mister Burke... Burke," Walter corrected himself as he walked towards the suited man, "I know all bout Allistair Tenpenny, and I believe I know all about you, and to be honest: I don't truthfully think I like or trust either one of you." Burke's grin widened at that. "Now, going by what I do know, I'd say you're here on business, so I'd ask you politely to get the business part of this conversation on the road so I can get about the rest of my morning."

Burke sighed, stood, and walked up to Walter. His eyes were two hidden black marbles behind his sunglasses. His face had grown somber. "The conversations are the most pleasant and interesting parts of my job, Walter. The back-n-forth, the feeling each out, the witty remarks, the sarcastic retorts... it's what I live for. It saddens me that you want to get to the part after this one so quickly, because, honestly, it's my least favorite part." Burke put a hand on his shoulder as the grin reappeared on his face, this time more sympathetic than mischievous. He moved Walter to the side and looked back over his shoulder. He nodded at the ghoul.

Walter never heard a gunshot, only the quiet whisper of the silencer as the bullet blasted through it and into his leg. Pain ran in waves up his entire body like a domino-effect, and when it reached his throat, he let out a yell and collapsed sideways to the floor. His hands found the wounded leg, which felt damp with blood and strange to him beneath his fingers. It felt like someone was sticking him with a thousand needles in the same spot.

"Now, you see what you rushed into Walter?" Burke asked as he knelt down and put his hand on Walter's chest to steady his movement. "Walter? Walter! Look at me!" Walter forced his eyes over to Burke's. The pain in his leg was screaming at him; his vision felt blurry and heavy. "I really don't like this part," Burke told him as he removed his sunglasses. Walter swallowed as he finally saw the monsters real eyes for the first time. They truly were little black marbles, and they looked soulless. "Walter, I'm going to need to know were that plant of yours is that you were speaking so... exuberantly about last night. Mr. Tenpenny has a great interest in things like that, you see, and it would please him so much to get his hands on it."

"Fuck you," Walter said; the pain had taken away any fears he had.

Burke looked disappointed. "Walter. My ghoul partner over there shot you in the calf. The next bullet goes into the top of your kneecap. Have you ever been shot there? Do you know what it feels like to have a bullet shatter a chunk of bone in less than a second?"

"Mister Burke... Burke," Walter corrected himself as he turned his body towards the suited devil, his hands clutched around his bloody leg, "I was born in the wastelands. I grew up there, working my entire adolescence away fixing things. Always been my special talent, you know. I came to Megaton some forty years gone now, and I've been working here at this plant for almost all of them. I don't get paid vacations. I don't take weekends. Never had a sick day. I'm sixty-one years old. If you think pain is what scares me, pardon the language, but your more fucking senile than I am."

Burke grinned. "The conversation Walter. You learn so much from it." He looked up at the ghoul. "Winston, go find old Walter's lady friend from last night. Put a bullet in her belly, and while she's bleeding to death, tell her Walter sent you."

The ghoul nodded and turned towards the front door. "Now you just wait there a god-damned minute! She ain't got shit to do with any of this!" Walter demanded.

"No, she doesn't," Burke said, voice ice cool. "Neither does your ten year old niece in Rivet city. Or your old engineering buddy Thompson in Big Town. Walter, do you think I come into a man's home without knowing anything about him? I'm going to hunt down and hurt everyone you ever spoke to."

Walter's old heart felt ready to break. He could picture his poor niece's face of terror as Burke came into her room. A shrill whine escaped his throat at the very thought. Thompson, that old dog partner of his, was a few years older than himself; he didn't need no trouble. And Jenny... sweet Jenny who had give an old man the night of his life once... she certainly didn't deserve no grief. But then there was Tenpenny, and Walter couldn't stop himself from thinking what sort of power a man could wield if he knew the secrets to starting life in the wastes. Men like Tenpenny and Burke... they were wicked, black beasts, and Walter didn't want to think of the wastelands--his wastelands--at their mercy.

"What's it going to be Walter?" Burke asked gently. "Either way we're going to reach the same conclusion in this story: you're going to tell us where this plant is. The road we take to get there is entirely up to you. It could be filled with pain... or it could be filled with severe pain. What are you so worried about? You worried about me? You don't want your teensy-tiny little plant to come into my hands? Walter! Come now! I'm not such a bad guy! We're in the wastelands! There is no more 'good' and 'bad', there's 'bad' and 'worse', and, honestly, I don't think I'm any worse than the rest of the scum out there."

"You're going to keep going after all my friends and family because you think I'll eventually tell you were this plant is? That about right? That our business?" Walter asked, realizing what he had to do.

"That's our business," Burke agreed, nodding his head.

"Then I'll tell you what you want to know; hell, I'll even mark it down for you on a map. Help an old man to his feet though, after all, we can't speak like civilized men while I'm laying on the floor like a child."

Burke's grin finally seemed genuine. He gave the ghoul a nod, who proceeded to get beside Walter and grab him under the arm. Burke stood and hooked his other arm, and then they were slowly lifting him to his feet.

I'm an old fool... but I'm no stupid old fool. Goodbye Jenny, Walter thought. He reached over, pulled the ghoul's pistol from its holster, and blew his brains out the top of his skull.

***