Captain Winters

A Fallout Series

Chapter 1:

Welcome to Paradise Falls

It was colder than usual; a nice brisk wind chilled my face and moved my short hair around as I stood upon a pile of sandbags, gazing over the next hill. I held a cigarette to my mouth and inhaled deeply, the warm smoke running down my lungs and warming my body from the inside-out. I stood and stared for a long time, smoking away, before flicking the bud into the morning air, and stomping it with my boot. Not like putting it out was necessary, I just enjoyed doing as I had seen in old prewar films. There were no trees to catch fire out here, just sand, dirt, and stone.

After I crushed the bud beneath my heel, I returned my hat to my head, and begun walking toward the distant city I had heard so much about: Paradise Falls. It seemed to be the only topic of conversation among traders and wastelander's for the past 50 miles, and I had nothing better to do, so I decided I would make my way over. I hadn't the slightest clue what to expect. Hell, for all I knew, Paradise Falls could be an untouched prewar city, like we had heard rumors of, over in Nevada, but I doubted it, and once I laid eyes upon the worn out "Big-boy" statue, my doubts did not disappoint.

Sand blew in whirling circles, like small tornado's, around the small, worn out city. I stood maybe 100 yards away from the walls, which were constructed of tin, metal, and just about any other scrap or debris you could imagine. I stood at about 5'8, in a Military Officers Uniform. I was many times mistaken for a member of the Enclave, but have no doubt, I would die before I sided with those sacks of shit. They who claim to be hero's, after entering territory's of innocent civilians and slaughtering hundreds, to eradicate "Savage" lifestyles and restore America to it's classic Glory. I would put 5 bullets in "President Eden's" head before he could tell another radio story about Baseball, and how he would bring it back once the country was under his command. As if that would make the Brotherhood of Steel bend to his will; Baseball. Fucker.

I stood there for a moment, attempting to spot a point of entry from my current location. I would hate to get close, just to find out the area was surrounded with Land-mines and the city was un-enterable. I dropped to one knee and reached around my back for my rifle, swinging it around to my front-side, and looking down the scope. For a moment, the city appeared to be deserted. There was no movement at all, and the sand was beginning to pick up, blocking most of my distant view. I looked above the walls and spotted a guard tower. It looked like it had been moved from a correctional facility, and the guard on top of it certainly fed to that illusion.

He was a shorter man, maybe around 5'5, wearing metal armor, and holding a quite large Sniper Rifle. At first, he was oblivious to my appearance outside his gates, but he noticed soon enough and quickly pointed his large rifle at me from his elevated position. This was no big deal for me; I had guns drawn on me before, and I was quite sure I would have them drawn on me again. I simply stood in place, looking up at him, not moving an inch. The only thing I did was let my rifle sink to my side, and I held it with one hand, pointing the barrel at the ground.

After a brief 30 seconds of him yelling something down to people in the city, another man climbed atop the guard tower, holding a Megaphone in his right hand, and a 9mm pistol in the other. He called out "State your Business Stranger!"

I stood silent for a moment, giving off a mysteriously intimidating factor, for all they saw was a military-man, with a concealed face, standing in what appeared to be the start of a sandstorm. If I were them, I would be highly concerned about this stranger.

"I'm just a Wasteland Wanderer, looking for a place to spend my evening!" I called back over the sound of the whirring sand.

The storm was beginning to pick up; tin walls were rattling and empty Nuka Cola bottles were starting to fall off the city walls.

The man with the megaphone said something to the sniper, then shouted back at me "The Enclave is not welcome here!"

I clenched my fists at that statement; I hated when people mistook me for one of those bastards.

"Well, it's a good thing i'm not Enclave!" I called back.

The two men exchanged words for a moment, then called down to someone "Open the Gates!"

Just then, one of the tin walls made a horrible sound; the sound of metal scraping against metal. I peered through the whirring sand that had now evolved into a full-on sandstorm, trying to see the source of the god-awful sound, and when I saw it, I didn't believe my eyes. These clever people had put an old metro bus on a pulley-system, using it as both a city wall, and a gate.

Someone came walking out towards me once the gate had been fully lifted, and called out, "Get your ass in here before the storm blows you away!"

I didn't hesitate to move quickly, approaching the opening at what could have been a light jog. Once I was in arms reach of the man, he confiscated my rifle.

"You can have this back once we know you can play nice" he said with a hint of disgust in his voice.

I took it they didn't get very many friendly visitors; and I could see why. The city was a shit-hole. It looked like an old shopping plaza, that had been through a Nuclear War and now had a makeshift wall around it, because that's exactly what it was.

"Why the hell is this place the buzz of wasteland conversation?" I asked myself quietly.

The man led me into a retired "Super Duper Mart" where a group of rusty-looking fellows, all armed to the bone, waited for me.

Once we entered the room, the sniper from the guard tower pointed his rifle at me, and held me in his sights. I don't think he was trying to be an asshole; he was just letting me know what was going to happen if I tried anything stupid.

"Take off your mask" said the man who was now in possession of my gun.

I waited about 10 seconds, getting a good look at all of them, letting the suspense linger, then I slowly began to unwrap the cloth that I had swirled around my head. I did so slowly, starting at the top and making my way down, then wrapping the cloth around my right fist. This was a trick I had learned in the army; put your face-wrap on your fighting hand, just in case things get hairy. Once my face was clearly visible to them, I could tell they each began to judge me. I was a good-looking man; short, jet-black hair, deep brown eyes, and a rough beard. I kept myself in shape and got a haircut whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"Whats your name?" asked one of the more burly men. He was holding an 8-inch combat knife in his left hand, and he looked like the type of guy who knew how to use it.

"Captain Michael Winters of the Washington Army" I responded. I never grew tired of repeating that sentence, something about it gave off a position of authority that I certainly enjoyed possessing.

Some of the men laughed, and it wasn't the first time I had gotten that sort of response to my title.

"The Washington Army was disbanded years ago. I haven't seen one of you boys since the war." Said the man who had asked me the question.

This moment was always very important; figuring out which side they were on. There were maybe 4 sides to the war, each who would kill a member of the others, without a doubt.

There was the Enclave; the classic America who had come to reclaim their country from the new and corrupt version.

There were the Raiders; Savages who wanted everyone but themselves dead, just so they could loot, pillage, and murder all they wanted. Nobody really expected them to win, they were a joke. Completely unorganized, fighting for all the wrong reasons, and had zero authority. Although they were Maniac's with guns, the bastards caused a serious amount of chaos throughout the war, and were probably the reason for the demise of The Brotherhood of Steel.

The Brotherhood of Steel appeared just before the war, probably because they knew war was coming. They were a military-type group with their own system of government. When they came out of the dark, they were big, armed, and dirty. Nobody knows how they had such great numbers, and how they had achieved that under the radar, but when they came forward, nobody had time to care. War was pending and we didn't have time to worry about them.

Then there was us, The Washington Army. Congress disbanded all branches of the United States Military, and converted them into one major force. With a new title, new uniforms, and brand new kick-ass weapons, we were sure victory was in our hands, but we were wrong.

"Some of us didn't surrender when the bombs started falling." I replied coldly. I was beginning to assume the men were ex-Raiders. All six of them.

"Well Captain," said one of the men in the back, as he began making his way through the small group. "You are more than welcome to stay the night." He now stood before me, a tall brute of a man with what was called a "Super Sledge" slung over his shoulder. "But in the morning, you pack your shit and leave."

"And you are...?" I asked with a hint of disrespect in my voice. I already knew who he was; he was a Raider. The only part of the conversation that confused me so far, is why none of the men had shot me once I stated my occupation, but he cleared that up for me.

"My name is none of your business or concern. You're staying here because we wouldn't feel right tossing you out in that storm, but we are not your friends. You got that?"

It appeared the old Raiders had gone soft, but I didn't mind. Whereas I could use a good gunfight to get my adrenaline pumping, I would be fine waiting out the storm with them. I believed the real reason they didn't kill me, is because they thought some of my boys would show up at their door the next day. However, the truth was, I hadn't seen another member of the Washington Army in months. We were scattered, and none of us could manage to stick together. Too many bad memories.

"Fine with me." I said as I began to unwrap the cloth from my fist. "Just tell me where to stay, and when I can get my gun back."

"You'l stay in the town hall. There should be some spare bedrolls in case the floor isn't good enough for you." He glared at me "And you get your gun back when you leave."

I had to act like I was disappointed, otherwise they would have searched me for a spare, and found my 44' Magnum. I always kept it in a specially made holster, which was located in the right side of my Jacket.

I began to wrap the cloth around my face once again as I stated to the man with my gun, "Lead the way."

He shot a look of suspicion at the leader, before kicking the door open, and walking out into the storm. I followed him without another word, simply leaving the group of Raiders to watch as I walked through the door, disappearing into the blizzard of dirt and sand.

I did my best to follow the man in front of me; you couldn't see more than 5 feet ahead of you in the sandstorm, so I followed his dark outline across what felt like a road, and onto a sidewalk.

It took a minute or two to spot the building, the town hall, as we approached it. It was a large building, and from what I could tell, had a nice prewar look to it. I seemed to enjoy prewar artifacts and buildings, something about them just reminded me of a better time. A peaceful time, unbothered by war and the crumble of civilization. It reminded me of home.

Once we reached the doors to the Town Hall, my guide kicked the door open, and led me inside. I walked through the doors and once again, removed my face-wrap and wrapped it around my knuckles.

"This is the Town Hall" he said loudly, like he was showing a tourist around. "You can sleep upstairs, and I don't want you talking to any of the girls. Jonas would probably kill you, regardless of who you are."

I nodded as I removed my cap, tucking it under my left arm as any officer should. "Any fun activities to keep me occupied until bedtime?" I asked with strong sarcasm in my voice. I intended to be as disrespectful as possible, now that I had come to the conclusion these me were Raiders. I hated them almost as much as I hated the Enclave.

"If you have the caps, I bet Jonas would sell you one of his whores.." He replied flatly. He then gave me a final look of disgust, and walked back outside, into the storm.

I stood thinking to myself for a moment. One particular word in his statement stood out to me. "Sell?" I thought to myself. "What did he mean by sell?" I questioned. Now, I was an adult and I knew what a prostitute was. I had come across at least one in each saloon across the wasteland, but the word Sell meant ownership, and ownership usually pointed to slavery. I had seen some brutal things in my life; Death, war, murder, but slavery was one that sank my heart. The very idea of humanity returning to the animalistic nature of slavery, that had once consumed a majority of the world, made me sick to my stomach.

I walked into the next room cautiously; a room with a very high ceiling, from which a glass chandelier dangled from a 10 foot chain, lighting the entire foyer. I gazed upon the giant marble staircase in the center, coming to the conclusion, that this must have been one of the wealthier sectors of the country before the war, do to the fact, this room alone would cost more caps than I would probably see in a lifetime.

"Welcome to Paradise Falls, Captain." Said a voice that came from behind the stairs.

I quickly turned my head to locate the gentlemen who had spoke to me from nowhere, as he opened a door that had been built into the side of the staircase, and walked out to greet me. He was my size, a young African-American gentleman, who wore a light red nightgown and slippers.

"We were told you would be joining us for the evening. Please make yourself at home." He said with a smile.

I was slightly disturbed by his kindness, for it had been a sharp turn from the attitudes that had been expressed to me since my arrival. It must have shown for he noticed rather quickly and said, "Do not worry Captain, I am not associated with those savages outside. I have no objection to your occupation as a man from the Washington Army."

I stood silent for a moment, before extending my right hand to him "Michael." I said quietly, attempting to figure out whether his generosity was sincere or not. It was hard to tell these days; one minute you have a new best friend, then you wake up to him standing over you, trying to slit your throat.

He took my hand and shook it firmly. "Call me Jonas." He replied.

This agitated me ever so slightly. I was going to have to determine his position with the Raiders over the next 24 hours that I would be staying here, so I would be able to decide whether or not a gunfight was going to be in order.

"I heard some about you from the Raiders." I said as I returned my hand to my side. "They didn't tell me much; they aren't very happy with me staying here."

Jonas looked surprised, but we both knew it was just an attempt to be polite. No shit the Raiders would be pissed off I was staying here. "Please, follow me to your room." He said as he gestured toward the staircase.

I followed him cautiously, observing my surroundings with extreme detail, looking for tripwire, pressure plates, and anything that could lead to my demise. As we walked, Jonas rambled on about the building, but I wasn't listening. I was too busy looking for traps and other Raiders.

We reached the end of the hallway and approached an old wooden door, with what seemed like duct tape covering where the windows used to be. "You will be staying in here, with the girls." He said as he pushed the door open.

The next 10 seconds punched me in the chest harder than I had felt in a very long time. Jonas opened the door with pride, showing me his most prized possessions, shackled to the wall. Where he saw 3 beautiful women, I saw three neglected, used, pain-stuck women, who would take a bullet to the head without a second thought; and it would be the best thing to happen to them in years.

"They really are something aren't they?" He asked with pride as he looked at me. He must have mistook my silence for astonishment, for he began explaining how he had captured one of them from their home. "Cheyenne, the first one on the right," he began, "I snatched her when she was about 9 years old. Some Raiders killed her parents, so I took her and put her in chains. She's my best girl, and her asking price is 1,000 caps."

I stared at this girl, who sat on an old worn-out bed. She was beautiful, and it drew a flame in my heart to see her, a slave, taken from her home at the age of 9, knowing nothing but abuse her whole life.

Jonas noticed my staring "Tell you what, stranger;" he said. "Since you seem to like Cheyenne so much, i'l let you have her for the night. My treat."

"Has anybody tried to buy her yet?" I asked with a chilling tone.

"Nobody can afford her." Replied Jonas. "People can only afford the nightly fee of 25 caps. Some even get the deluxe for 50."

"Whats the deluxe?" I asked, still not looking at him.

"The deluxe is anything you want." He replied. "You aren't allowed to hit any of my girls with the 25 cap experience, but with the deluxe..." he paused as a grin spread across his face. "Anything goes."

Finally I turned and looked him in the eye, an expression on my face that should have given him a clear enough warning to shut the hell up and not say another word. I said to him slowly and with grit in my voice, "You allow people to hit these women for caps?" I asked.

Jonas lost his smile. "Yes I do." He said as he put his hand on his sidearm, which dangled from a belt around his robe. "Do you have a problem with that, Captain?"

I stared into his eyes for what seemed like a very long time, allowing the silence to linger throughout the room, causing the girls to take notice to the conversation, as I decided my next move. I was judging Jonas intensely, attempting to determine his prewar occupation, whether it be a soldier or civilian. I was trying to determine his side; Brotherhood or Raider, and I was trying to decide how quickly he could pull that sidearm out of its holster.

Jonas began to say something, but what it was, we will never know. In a matter of seconds, just as his lips began to move, I had pulled my 44' Magnum from my jacket, pushing the hammer down as I shoved the barrel against his stomach, and let a single bullet fly from the chamber, into his gut, and out his lower back; leaving a nicely sized hole in the door behind him. Jonas stared at me for a moment, with his Jaw dropping lower and lower with each passing second, as he looked down at the bloody mess that used to be his front-side. He lifted a hand to his gut as he stumbled back, knocking the half-open door closed, and falling to a sitting position, where he leaned against the wall, and bled to death.

I didn't even hear the screams of the women in the background. This was a crippling weakness of mine, from which I had discovered in the war. Death fazed me, and once I had shot Jonas, I was oblivious to my surroundings until he bled out, and was no longer staring at me with a fear that knocked the arrogance right out of him. He knew he was dying, and I'm sure his life was flashing before his eyes as I stood over him, watching him go.

It wasn't until I heard the voice of a child that I snapped out of it. I heard the voice of a young girl in the background, over the sound of the panicked women, asking very quietly, "Is he gone now?"

I turned around, to a sight that built rage and sorrow in my heart. When Jonas had opened the door, he did so only half way, blocking my view of most of the room. He is lucky he did, otherwise his death would have been much more painful; for in the corner, was a cage, with 5 young children inside, all shackled to the wall as well.

After a moment of silence, I crossed the room, loosing more and more faith in the human race with each step, as I crouched before the cage, staring the young girl in the eye. "He's gone." I replied quietly. "and it's time for you to go home."

This is the first of many chapters, as the first fan-fiction I have ever written. This story goes on and on for ages. Hopefully I see some positive reviews, if so, we will see much more of Captain Winters in the future, from what is an incredibly complex and awesome journy I have planned ahead!