Start at the start

17th August, 2255

The Capital Wasteland was never an ideal place for a child to grow up in with all the pain, the death and the starvation. What kind of father would wish that upon his son? Lionel Harsham certainly did not. A post-apocalyptic world filled with murderers and monsters was not his ideal context for the development of his own flesh and blood, but here they were, man and babe, crossing a radioactive nightmare with a shared purpose.

"We'll be fine, John, don't you worry," Lionel declared with more certainty than he was feeling.

"Birdie!" declared John confidently, pointing to the vultures circling overhead.

Well, at least he had a purpose: get his son away from that god-forsaken village. Some ramshackle sheets of metal hammered together to form a large square, with small sheds erected within the square. Was that really a village? It didn't matter anymore, for the giant radscorpions had destroyed it all; killing his wife Susan, decimating his home and leaving the corpses of his friends strewn everywhere. He hadn't even had time to say goodbye or grab any possessions. He'd simply grabbed his wailing son and fled, his .44 magnum revolver at his hip and sorrow filling his heart over the loss of the life he had known with his soulmate. The tears of both father and son had fallen onto the dusty ground for the first hour of travel before Lionel had managed to stem the flow and gently shush John, who had fallen asleep soon after.

Predictably, John had woken up with a start a few hours later when Lionel forgot himself and fired his magnum at a passing Enclave eyebot, reducing it to mere scrap; they just infuriated him. Where was the mighty Enclave now? Why weren't they here helping him and his son? Where was that pompous bastard Eden? He sure as fuck wasn't back at the ruined village with a plasma rifle! And the Enclave had the nerve to preach to him?

Oddly, John didn't even cry. He just awoke with a start and stared accusingly at his father. "Sorry, kiddo, go back to sleep, everything's fine," murmured Lionel. John duly obliged after some mild rocking along with a gentle hand rubbing his back. Everything was far from fine. Lionel didn't even know where he was going; he'd just picked a random direction and fled, careful to stay as far away as possible from where the radscorpions had attacked.

Judging by the sun he was travelling west, which was as good a direction as any, even if Megaton was a great distance south. He couldn't walk until he collapsed, and so far he'd been lucky enough to avoid the various horrors of the waste. God knew he couldn't survive without food and water, and neither could John. The kid had been quiet and calm for long enough already, but soon he'd want sustenance, which Lionel was markedly incapable of providing.

Then, as if by a miracle, civilization! He could see some sort of structure on the horizon, and as he got closer and closer, he realized it was a giant, fat man holding an ice cream cone. Plastic of course, but this bizarre sight was salvation to the eyes of Lionel. As he got even nearer to the colossus, he realized that it must have previously been a mascot for the ruined supermarket.

Even more noteworthy was the presence of armed men around the facility: protectors! Lionel's heart swelled at the thought. He could live here! He and his son would be safe. All he had to do was introduce himself to the community and make it known he was willing to do anything to integrate and help out. They were sure to accept a healthy, fit man with a lethal aim; he would be part of a neighbourhood again and be, if not happy, then at least content. He approached the heavy set, scowling man at the entrance which was populated with sandbags and cruel looking barbed wire.

"Better to be safe than sorry." Lionel thought as he surveyed the heavy defenses before opening his mouth and (praying silently that he'd be accepted) said, "Hello? My name is Lionel and I was wondering..."

The man scowled at him even deeper than before and interrupted, "I don't care. If you're not buying or selling..." his gaze flickered over John, "then fuck off."

Lionel started at the bluntness and blatant vulgarity, but pressed on regardless. "I'm afraid I'm not here to trade. I was wondering if it would be possible for me and my son to live here. I'm pretty handy with firearms, and I'd be willing to help out in return..." The muscled guard looked taken aback by this request and Lionel began to feel suspicious as to the nature and purpose of the town, but again took the route of politeness and waited for a response.

"Are you fucking crazy, buddy? Why would you want to live at Paradise Falls? You got a death wish or something? I mean, we could arrange something, but you do know what goes on here, right?"

When Lionel responded in the negative, the guard sighed and run a hand across his buzzcut hair before continuing, "We buy and sell slaves here, pal. Either you live here as a slaver or a slave. I reckon you ain't got enough nerve to be the former and you've got too much to be the latter."

Lionel was horrified and was about to spin on his heel and flee, when the soft burbling of his son made him pause. They could be safer here than out there. Morals couldn't keep his only link to Susan alive. Food, water and a safe place to sleep... he could pretend to tolerate the values held here and teach his son the total opposite and hopefully put some good back into the world after being so apathetic towards the evil. He clenched his jaw and set his mouth in a firm line. His mother had been a doctor of no small talent; therein lay his trump card.

"I'm medically trained, sir. If you let me live here, I could examine the wounds and ailments of slavers and slaves." The emphasis on the last two words made the guard roll his eyes, but he stroked his stubbled chin in serious consideration.

"How do I know you're not lying? Lots of people are just looking for shelter."

"I could shoot you in the leg then heal you..." The acerbic words escaped Lionel's mouth before he could clamp his mouth shut, and his eyes widened at the potential destruction of a life-saving arrangement. To his immense relief, the guard chuckled and slapped him on the back.

"Looks like we're gonna have to watch you, Doc." The brief jocularity evaporated and was replaced with a businesslike demeanor. "Report to our boss, Eulogy. He took over from Harmon recently." At this point, he leaned in theatrically, "Bloke was fucking insane. Used to eat the slaves he couldn't sell. Eulogy may be young, but he's got one hell of a silver tongue and knows exactly what he's doing. Sure, he's too eager to get his end away at times, but there are things in the wasteland worse than womanizing, Doc."

Lionel was caught between elation at making it in, and horror at the company he'd soon be keeping. He shook it aside and focused on his son, and reassured himself he was doing the right thing. "Thanks very much. Could I ask you your name?" Lionel stretched out his arm, and the guard, clearly unused to such pleasantries, hesitated for a second before firmly grasping the hand and shaking it once.

"Dennis. The name's Dennis. Go in to see Eulogy and tell him you're our new doctor, and he'll assign you to where you need to be."

Lionel nodded politely to Dennis and stepped through the foreboding gate with John clutched tightly to his chest.

"Please let this be the right decision..."