Prologue: Beginnings
Man, those things are loud, John thought as the claxons blared overhead.
John pulled off his helmet and tossed it to the floor, ignoring the loud clank as it hit the metal floor. Despite the protection of the power suit, he knew that there was just too much radiation in the chamber to make a difference. If he was going out, then he wanted to do it facing the world with his own eyes, and not behind some enhanced visor.
The door behind him hissed shut, sealing him off from the rest of the Jefferson Memorial. He saw Sarah Lyons through the window, looking back at him sadly but with pride.
"Like father, like son," John muttered, recalling that this was where his father had also met his end. This damn purifier better be worth it, for all the trouble it's caused his family.
John Black, also known throughout the Capital Wasteland as the Lone Wanderer, took a deep breath before marching into the center of the chamber. He ignored the heavy cricket ticks coming from his Pip-Boy's Geiger counter, which was sounding its warning loudly. John could already feel himself getting sick as the lethal amounts of radiation in the chamber were slowly turning his cells into paste.
He walked up to the central console, and brought his hand up to the numeric pad. "I am Alpha and Omega," he quoted, "the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely." John smiled, then punched in the code. Two. One. Six.
"This is for you, mom and dad…"
The blast of radiation erupted from the console, knocking the power-suited figure back a few steps. Pain seared throughout his entire body, and he staggered for a bit as the machinery around him thrummed to life. His heart beat madly in his chest, stubbornly refusing to give up. But John knew that he had just taken a hit from a lethal dose of rads, and these were most likely the last few moments of his life. He dropped to his knees and looked up into the glass, seeing the cloudy, mucky water suddenly turn clear, revealing the face of Thomas Jefferson's statue to his eyes.
"Guess I did it," he gasped, laughing, before dropping to his back with a loud clang. "Good night, Mr. President…"
The lights faded, and all was black.
A sting of pain shooting through her skull, the blackness receding as sounds entered her eardrums. The tangy taste of blood was on her lips, and the skin on her face felt dry and covered in dirt.
"You got what you were after, so pay up!"
The loud, gruff voice sent more thrills of pain shooting through her brain. Eyes flicked open, vision woozy; she was kneeling, looking down at her bound hands.
"You're crying in the rain, pally," a new voice spoke, this one less gruff but still dangerous.
Eyes were still blurry, though they were getting better. Her entire existence felt sore, like her body had been beaten with logs. For all she knew, this was the case. A soft shake of her head to clear her fuzzy mind, and her vision returned fully. A lock of dark brown hair fell in her face, landing upon her right cheek and causing dry skin to itch.
Memories from before came to her, of being ambushed, of men in black leather chasing her and tackling her to the ground. She fought, punching and screaming at them, until one of the brutes clubbed her in the face with something hard. It really hurt.
Realization of her peril caused her to struggle slightly against the bindings on her wrists, twisting them to and fro in an attempt to free her hands. Unfortunately, her movements caught the attention of one of her captors.
"Guess who's wakin' up over here?"
She glanced up and saw three men in front of her: two wore the familiar black leather gear worn by the tribal gang known as the Great Khans, while the third man was dressed in a strange checkered suit. He seemed to be the leader of the outfit, as his appearance and demeanor was much more slick than the other two.
"Time to cash out," the man said as he tossed a cigarette but to the ground.
"Would you get it over with?" asked one of the Khans impatiently. He seemed extremely eager to go.
The leader lifted up a finger, cutting off the man's protests. "Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink. Dig?"
The girl's face turned pale upon hearing this, her eyes going large with fright as she saw the man reach into his jacket. "W-wait! You don't have to do this," she stuttered out. "What do you want? I don't have much money, but you can have whatever I got, mister!"
The man pulled something out from within his check coat, and for a moment the girl thought it was a weapon. With both relief and dread, she saw that it was a small platinum poker chip, the item she had been hired to deliver. "You've made your last delivery, kid." He then brought the chip back into his coat before pulling out a large silver handgun. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene."
"W-what?" The girl cowered back from the sight of the gun, trying in vain to back away from the three men. "B-but you already have what you want, there's no reason for you to k-kill me!"
The man shook his head sadly, looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. "Sorry. But I can't afford to have any loose ends, and sadly… that's all you are, hon. A loose end."
"I-I won't tell anyone, I swear! Please!" The girl looked up at him, staring into his eyes and hoping that her pleas could reach his heart and earn her his mercy. "I just wanna go home, mister! Please don't do this!"
The man sighed, letting out a long, deep breath. "Can't take the chance, kiddo." He quickly raised the gun, aiming its sights directly at her. The girl shrieked, tears leaking from her large hazel eyes as her slight form trembled in utter terror. "From where you're sitting, this might seem like an 18 karat run of bad luck. Truth is…"
The night sky erupted in both light and sound, as the gunshot burned both her eyes and ears.
"… the game was rigged from the start."