Edit: Okay, REposting this chapter because I went back and rewrote some of the story and changed some things and added stuff. The Weapon Information Profiles are something I just wanted to put in here because I think it'd be so cool to have a spec of the weapon appear if you imagine this as a movie.

Alright, it's been a long while since I uploaded anything, and I know I didn't finish my last story, but looking back, I don't think I want to. I realized when I read it that it sucked, and I much prefer this story. I was so busy with everything going on since I last wrote a story that I've had little time to work on another, but here it is anyways: The Rad Race. Chronicles of Isaac Croisso (pronounced like "croissant" but visibly different). Everything in this story takes place roughly 8 years after the (supposed) ending of Fallout 3. And if you're wondering why I make Isaac out as a sort of Super-Special-Awesome Human, just consider it for a moment. By the end of Fallout 3, you're basically the most powerful person in the world, if you played the game right (which I bloody well did). There's absolutely no reason this stuff WOULDN'T happen in real life in the several years afterwards.

In this chapter and the next there are several allusions to stuff that happened between the end of the real game and this story. I plan to start with this story as a base, and go backwards building upon the allusions, or forward doing other stuff. Or somewhere in between. Eh.

Isaac ascended the stairs feeling rather good about himself. Trudging along close behind him was his companion and bodyguard, Fawkes, an "intelligent" Super Mutant that Isaac had saved from a life of everlasting hell in a virtually abandoned vault.

Isaac emerged from the metro tunnel and climbed the stairs into the sunshine. It shined brilliantly off of his bright purple-dyed hair. The Capitol Wasteland may have been hot and desolate, but it was still better than being stuck in the stinking, slinking subway tunnels. Especially when they were infested with Feral Ghouls.

But the prize had been obtained. Isaac ran his hand over his new weapon. It had been a bitch to get, but he finally had it now, and that's what counted. The Burnmaster. The most powerful and unique Flamer weapon in existence. Fiery, decimating, beautiful. It was a work of art. But sadly, its destiny was to be forever in his trophy case. Flamers just weren't his style.

*Weapon Information Profile: Burnmaster*

A unique version of the generic Flamer weapon, the Burnmaster delivers more heat and therefore higher damage per burst than a regular Flamer. However, this is the only redeeming quality, opposing the Burnmaster's twin setbacks of cumbersome weight and slow rate of fire, which all Flamers share. However, emitting fire instead of firing bullets also has its own independent advantages.

As he ran his hand over the Burnmaster, Fawkes tapped Isaac on the shoulder with a huge, yellow-green finger. "There is something strange about this place now," he pointed towards the river that ran parallel to them. A large cart was parked in the middle of the decrepit roadway that lay between them and the river. It was covered, with a large canvas sheet pulled up around it, hanging from a roof, obscuring the inside from view. Two Brahmin were tied to the cart, obviously used to pull it along. Two-headed, irradiated cows, Brahmin were descended from the areas old pre-war cows. Docile beings, they did little but eat unless they were being controlled. The cows seemed to laze about, staying close to the cart.

"Do you think it is trouble?" Fawkes asked Isaac inquiringly.

"No. Even if it is bait for a merc ambush, it's not like we can't handle it. Brahmin are too useful to leave out in the open alone anyway. My guess is they're in the cart, and probably dead."

"I shall explore it then," volunteered Fawkes, and taking out his Gatling Laser, he trudged towards the cart.

*Weapon Information Profile: Gatling Laser*

Similar to your everyday Minigun, the Gatling Laser is a pinnacle of Pre-War science, emitting high-intensity laser bursts at twenty shots per second. Its combination of high damage, large magazine, good durability, and high rate of fire make it one of the most formidable forces on the battlefield. These infinitely useful perks are opposed only by its great weight.

The Brahmin looked over at the approaching giant momentarily, but lost interest quickly, and went back to eating what little grass there was around them.

Fawkes approached the back opening to the canvas and thrust in the barrel of his Laser. Nothing happened, so he moved in closer and pulled away some of the canvas. With a jerk, he turned around to Isaac and called to him. "I should think you would want to see this!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Isaac strapped the Burnmaster to his back and walked over. The Super Mutant pulled open the canvas and let Isaac see inside. "Dear Atom! This is amazing!" Isaac's eyes widened. Inside the cart were piles upon piles of guns. Chinese Assault Rifles, American-made ones too, Pistols, the 10mm and Laser varieties, Grenades of all types. Even ammo for all of them. The inventory seemed almost limitless. It was a junk pile of guns bigger than any merchants' Isaac had ever seen. Lucky Harith would not be pleased.

"What should we do, my friend? The owner does not seem to be around."

"We shall wait," said Isaac. "Someone with this amount of firepower to expend should surely be powerful, or at least have powerful connections. It should be worth meeting them."

"But what if they do not come?"

"You ever hear the saying, Fawkes, 'Finders keepers?'"

…

The pair waited around for several hours, looking through the various guns. Fawkes, being a polite and (at least slightly) cultured Super Mutant, had taken it upon himself to organize the guns by size around the cabin. It was a bit difficult for him, considering he could not climb inside the cart to do so. His bulk would've probably broken it.

Isaac sat upon the roof of the cart, polishing his new prize. He was a sucker for rare weapons. He had taken it upon himself after saving D.C. from the Enclave (among other threats) several years ago to collect every special weapon the Wasteland had to offer. He even traveled outside it at times to find some. These excursions were a sort of hobby/safari that Isaac regularly undertook, breaking from his new job.

After many of his heroic exploits Isaac had taken it upon himself to become the new Ambassador (and substitute Sherriff) of Megaton. Using his incredible fortune and influences he opened large-scale trading circuits with Rivet City, Arefu, Big Town, Canterbury Commons, The Republic of Dave, Underworld, Tenpenny Tower, Little Lamplight, The Brotherhood of Steel, and even their Outcasts. He had even opened negotiations (reluctantly) with the slavers of Paradise Falls. The circuit, called Wasteland Allies Enterprises, was a huge network of fortified trade routes between every city, with regular checkpoints and guards. The circuits, safe from most contingent ambushes, allowed quick and easy travel for caravans and individual traders across the Wasteland.

With the circuit as protected as it was, it became a simple matter for caravans to transport large cargo throughout the wastes. With this amount of freedom, towns could easily obtain huge supplies of metal, rock, and other such things. With these shipments, many of the less fortified towns were built up and expanded. Megaton itself was expanded to around seven times its original size, annexing the nearby Springdale. The remodeling of the cities became known as the Capitol Renovations.

With the new additions to the city, Isaac had set apart an old section of Megaton, namely, his old home and the area surrounding it, to build into a sort of fortified bunker. He used the bunker to store his supply of rare weaponry, to be used to outfit Megaton in case of invasion. Now all he needed to do was fill it.

As Isaac sat atop the cart polishing the new Flamer he sensed someone approaching. He looked down the road and saw a figure approaching him and Fawkes at a good pace. He squinted and noticed the figure was actually running. And at a good speed too.

As the figure approached Isaac could make out its features. It was lanky, definitely human, Caucasian, with white hair. An albino? No way. They couldn't survive out here. It was probably bleached. But nevertheless, it was human, and that was something. It was dressed in merc clothing as well. Not surprising. If it was a Raider it wouldn't be alone. As it got closer Isaac jumped down to meet the figure.

He began walking towards the figure when a shot rang past him. Instinctively Isaac drew his pistol. The Novasurge. Most powerful Plasma Pistol in existence. Mostly owing to the fact that it was an early prototype. Efficient in damage, but ate up ammo like it was fresh water. For every rose a thorn, of course.

*Weapon Information Profile: MPLX Novasurge*

Probably the oldest prototype for what was to become the standard Plasma Pistol, the Novasurge was a promising first experiment, but unfortunately had its understandable share of defects. While its power is truly formidable and deadly, compared not only to its future counterpart but also most other weapons, it owes this quirk to the fact that it eats up ammo twice as fast as the perfected Plasma Pistol. In addition, its built-in energy transmuter is a significant part of this weapon's prototype status, and subsequently makes the weapon weigh twice as much as the regular. Weighing pros and cons, it is a worthwhile weapon, especially when push comes to shove.

He trained it on the figure and waited for it to get closer. Another shot rang out. It once again missed Isaac by a close distance. "Stop!" Isaac yelled, and took a stand in front of the figure.

Surprisingly, the figure stopped. Isaac could make out more features now. It was almost definitely a man, and was indeed very skinny. His white hair stood straight up on his head, spiked up in columns, like tiny stalagmites. His features were very sharp and almost bony. He wore a heavy-looking overcoat but no shirt and several ammo belts were slung across his torso. His pants were dark and looked leathery, and he wore combat boots. But the most prominent feature out of everything was that he was wearing a pair of large, red-lens goggles.

"Why are you shooting at me?" yelled Isaac, pistol still trained on the man. As he yelled he noticed that Fawkes had come running up behind him, Gatling Laser at the ready. "Standby," he ordered Fawkes quietly, still not taking his eyes off the man.

The man answered promptly and with a shrieking yell. "Get away from my caravan!" he screamed. And took another shot. This one hit Fawkes straight in the shoulder. Fawkes let out a yell and tried to take aim. "No, Fawkes! It's a warning shot!" yelled Isaac, abandoning his stance and going over to his friend. "He's got a Sniper. That was a warning shot," he stated again.

*Weapon Information Profile: .308 DKS-501*

A powerful weapon in anyone's hands, the .308 caliber version of the DKS-501 Sniper Rifle was much easier to manufacture than its larger caliber counterparts, and so more exist than other types. A significant caliber rifle with a five-ammo cartridge, the .308 is a little weighty, but makes up for it with a built in scope and a powerful firing mechanism. A dead-on shot with this weapon has a considerable chance of at the very least knocking a buffalo-sized target over, if it does not kill them outright. Its only real downside is its kickback and slow rate of fire, although using a sniper rifle for its intended purpose would leave little chance for these to significantly affect combat with this weapon.

"The next one will hit a more lucrative target for sure. I need to reason with him," he reassured his bodyguard.

Isaac let go of Fawkes, who lowered the weapon, and threw his hands up, pistol still in one of them, just in case. "This is your caravan, is it? We meant no harm, we found it and was waiting for the owner. I would like to speak with you."

The man stood with his rifle trained on them for several seconds, then, slowly, he lowered it a bit. "Drop your weapons. Now," he said and followed up by lowering his weapon even more.

Isaac nodded to Fawkes and they both holstered their weapons. "We will not drop our weapons, but we won't shoot. Now, we mean no harm, we simply want to know what you are doing here. This is Wasteland Allies Enterprises controlled space. You are not a registered trade caravan. Where do you come from and what are you doing here?" Nothing about this explanation was really true, except for the justification of peace, but it wasn't good to show any patience or that you were inherently friendly to strangers in the Wastes.

"Hmph," grunted the man, holstering his weapon as well. He proceeded to walk towards Isaac at a brisk pace. Isaac stood stone still, in an overbearing stance, to discourage any sudden bursts of bravado by his opponent. But to his surprise the man proceeded to walk straight past him, and over to his caravan. When he reached it, he proceeded to hammer one of the foreheads of one of his Brahmin.

"You ridiculous, useless, oversized excuse for a barbecued dinner!" he yelled at it. "I knew you'd pull some shit like this! If you weren't so strong I'd slaughter you and trade you in for a new cart puller! I leave you hidden real well in a nice little clearing, and what do you do? You fucking move straight out into the road where everyone and everything can see you! Do you realize how fucked I'd be if all of my inventory were to just go missing! Raided by some insipid… Raider! The thought of it! Gah!" he continued to yell and abuse his Brahmin by hammering his fist on its forehead. The Brahmin seemed to recognize the blows, but stood and took the abuse without raising so much as a hoof. "Do you want me to suffer, is that it? Do you want me to have to use you as rations because I have no more caps for food? Huh? Do you!"

There proceeded to be a pause between the two. Then the Brahmin let out a low "Moo!" and went back to eating grass below it. The man threw his hands up in surrender and stormed over angrily to the back of his caravan. "Now who the hell messed up my guns!"

Isaac had been mildly amused by this little show, but now he wanted some answers, and he was going to fucking get them. He walked back to the caravan and stood at the back watching the man, who was busy rustling around inside and undoing Fawkes' tidying up. "Excuse me. I believe I had asked you some questions? What are you doing here and where do you come from?"

"Eh?" said the man, turning around. "Why do you care? It's none of your business."

"That's where you're wrong, Wastelander," stated Isaac. "I am Isaac Croisso, Ambassador of Megaton Town. I am one of the most powerful people in the entire Capitol Wasteland, and I have full jurisdiction over everything that happens on this Trade Circuit." Another lie, this time only partially, but useful in negotiations.

The man blinked and stared at Isaac for a moment, then smiled. Isaac knew the look well. It was the kind of smile a merchant got when he saw potential for a big cash-in. "Well then, Ambassador," said the man with a salute, "The name's Fozzy, experienced weapons merchant from the American Northeast. I've traveled clear across the Atlantic Seaboard and back again. This is my third visit to the Capitol Wasteland," continued Fozzy, jumping out of the cart to shake Isaac's hand. "And this time I've come to cash in big."

"On what, may I ask?" inquired Isaac.

"Why, on weapons dealings. You all are going to need all you can get soon."

"Oh really? And why would that be?"

"Jeez, didn't ya hear?"

"Hear what?" asked Isaac, suddenly feeling that familiar pit in the bottom of his stomach.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard anything, with your big Trade Circuit and everything. I mean, come on, this is our old nation's grand capitol. And you can't even get intel from 500 miles away? No scouts or anything? I mean come on, the Commonwealth-"

"What happened, Fozzy!" yelled Isaac, losing his patience and grabbing Fozzy by the lapels.

"Dude, chill. It's just a surprise you didn't hear about it. I figured this entire place would've been up in arms about it."

"Up in arms about WHAT?" Isaac was about to blow a gasket.

Fozzy smiled again. But this wasn't the old merchant smile, no. This was one of those cruel smiles that struck a cold vein on the back of your neck. "Why haven't you heard?" he asked again. "The Chinese are coming."