All seemed quiet on this particular night.
Usually, the winds would carry the sound of gunfire, followed by the screams of death from some poor soul meeting their fate. Instead, there was a gentle breeze in the air, carrying the dust up into the sky and horizon beyond.
The ruins of the old Washington D.C could be seen in the distance, once a golden paradise, now reduced to a warzone. Though not on this night, where the streets regularly filled with corpses of the dead, now bare to those long gone.
Outside the city grounds, the rough earth covered the land, burnt tree trunks and vast boulders dispersed about. A couple of rusted out antenna towers remained though rendered inadequate, its components discarded for. Some buildings stood nearby but have long been abandoned, deemed no longer inhabitable, having outlived their usefulness.
Despite this empty picture, hollow in every shape and form, life still thrived.
Close by, a town made up of scrap metal appeared, dug deep within a crater. The city, known as Megaton, flourished with people in their sleep. It was still pretty dark out but a few of its occupants began to wake for the adventures which awaited them.
One stood out by the gates of the metallic city, clad in a duster and cowboy hat, smoking a cigar. He had dark skin and eyes, wore a thick and bushy beard, and appeared to be in his early forties. Strapped to his back, a Chinese assault rifle hung, ready to strike out against anything and anyone who threated the safety of his people.
Though it seemed he had nothing to worry about as peace appeared to have spread across the land, welcoming the tranquillity it so rarely got to experience.
At the Cliffside of a mountain, a canine stirred in its sleep before awakening to the Scenic Overlook. Yawning, it stood on all four paws and stretched out, shaking any weariness of sleep off.
It strolled towards the edge of the overlook and sat there, glued to the spot. For several minutes, it did not move from its position, simply watching as the night sky became to fade away.
Then, as if appearing out of thin air, a figure crouched down beside the canine and began to gaze out towards the fast approaching break of dawn. Holding it by the barrel, the figure rested the butt of his peculiar looking rifle to the ground, his focus set towards the ascending sun.
As the first few beams of light began to creep towards the horizon, the canine let its mouth fall open, panting happily. The figure, with his gaze still fixated to the beacon of light in the horizon, rested his hand on top of the animal's head which was clasped with a Pip-Boy.
With the night sky fading away, so too did the tranquillity that tried to cling to the land a little bit longer.
But this was The Capital Wasteland.
Nothing lasted forever.
Raiders began to awake after a crazed night filled with booze and chems, shouting like mindless animals as they fired bullets into the air. Super Mutants snuck out of their lairs, on the hunt for more human blood, eager to rip their victims apart if need be. Even the wildlife crawled out of their holes, looking for their next meal.
Upon hearing the gunshots ringing out across the wasteland, breaking the serenity in the air, the sheriff snapped his eyes to attention. Disposing of the used cigar, pressing it into the dirt with his boot, he swung the rifle into his hands and stood ready.
The growling canine, showing its teeth, now eyed the direction where the gunfire could be heard. The figure, however, remained unmoving and unaffected both from the gunshots and the fuming animal.
With his hand still atop the creature, he scratched behind the canine's ears, instantly silencing it. He slowly stood up, the canine following suit, held his rifle in both hands as a look of determination past over the man's face in the glow of the morning light.
"Let's go, Dogmeat"
With an approved bark in reply, the two set off and walked in silence, side by side, together. They were heading into the direction of the city, where gunshots and battle cries could be heard in the distance.
As they walked further and further away from Scenic Overlook, they appeared as mere silhouettes in the distance until they were gone completely. Many would have cut and run in the opposite direction by now but not for this man.
For he was known as The Lone Wanderer and may god have mercy on those he came across...
As hell was coming to their doorstep.