A/N: My first Fallout story, takes place in Fallout 3 and New Vegas times. It is pretty long but hopefully a good read.
He walked through the hot wastes of New York City, eating a can of Pork 'N Beans with a spoon he had found in some old half gone house. His gun was strapped over his shoulder with an old leather belt. A scoped Chinese assault rifle with three full clips of ammo specially tied for easy reloading, he had relied on the old gun since he finally got out of the slave camp in lower Canada.
"He" was Robert Rod. He had no clue of his actual last name, since his security card from the old Vault 153 was cut off after Rod, so he went by that. He had been trapped as a sexual slave for two years, since age 14, but finally busted out when a lesser woman tried to do it rough, with a combat knife. Robert had killed her, looted her 40 caps, and ran.
Now he wandered through this city before moving on. Robert tossed his can into a nearby car and washed the spoon with a cloth. He then walked into an old hotel to find a bed for the night.
As he walked in, he heard a small beep. He drew his gun and made sure it was loaded before walking in more. He saw a terminal and clicked it on, seeing only one file: "Watch out, Dumbass"
Robert heard a click and jumped over the counter as a sniper's bullet collided with the monitor where his head was a second ago. "Damn!" He heard the apparent sniper yell. Robert crawled to a nearby door and into a nearby hall, with a staircase and one room. Robert opened the room, finding the beep was actually a destroyed Mr. Handy.
He walked into the room and searched all the desks. He found a switchblade and a few hunting rifle bullets, as well as a note, "Congrats, but you're still going to die." Robert heard another click, and turned, firing three shots through the door. He heard someone yell out, not the first voice.
Robert opened the door to find a dead teenager, male, with a small beard. He was holding a Desert Eagle, which was dirty and a bit messed up. Robert heard steps on the stairs and hid in the room with the robot.
This man was obviously older, "Hey son, nice job getting him. I'm almost down, hold- WHAT THE FUCK? Jackson!" The older man was now in the hall, as Robert watched through one of the door's new peepholes. Robert turned and quickly picked up Mr. Handy. The door opened and a man with a gray beard fired a rather rusty Chinese pistol into the room, only hitting Robert's trap. The Flamer fuel was ignited and sent a blast right into the old man, tossing him into the wall with his son.
Robert picked up the man's pistol and walked up to the barely harmed man, who wore steel armor. "What's your name, old man." He demanded. "I'm Peter Parker, got the name from a ripped up comic page I found. Who the hell are you?" Peter looked reasonably out of breath from the sudden flying into a wall. Robert unloaded the pistol and tossed it into the old man's lap. "You try to kill me, I will kill you. I am Robert, ex- slave and currently looking for trade or work." Robert sat against the wall apposite to Peter.
"Well, now that you mention it, I need a good repair and mod man for my gun stuff, and I saw your fire trap. Pretty high tech." Robert nodded, smiling. He had always prided himself on his knowledge of technology, guns, and being a handyman. Plus he felt he owed this guy since his son had bled out before they could say goodbye.
"Tell you what, let me have your son's pistol, armor, and 150 caps and I'll fix one gun up. The other guns are extra." Peter only nodded as he tried to regain breath and was a bit dizzy from the blow to the head he received.
Three days later, Rob walked through the wasteland in his new armor, apparently referred to as a "Riot Control Suit." He was now good friends with Peter. He had even been invited to the funeral of young Benny, whom had actually died from the first shot, pretty much painlessly.
Robert finally was paid, earning a full 450 caps for his troubles. He had to find a merchant now, he was so thirsty he felt faint. Even Peter was reduced to drinking dog blood. Rob had found a half empty Nuka-Cola, but it was molded.
Robert finally pulled open an armored car and shut the door, deciding to just eat some of the dog steaks he got from Peter. He raised German Sheppards to eat and protect him. Robert pulled it out and started digging in as he counted his caps and anything else just to keep his mind alert.
Finally he fell asleep from over thinking and stress.