Most stories start with a hook.
This story starts with two bullets to the head and a live burial.
A blurry recording. A man, old, wakes from an unnatural slumber. Another man, bearing a black shirt and brown pants, with a gray mustache, sits in a nearby chair, and starts talking to the stranger "You're awake. How about that." The stranger tries to get up, struggling. "Whoa, easy there. You've been out a couple of days now. Why don't you just relax a second, get your bearings." The man sits up, stares at the doctor for a second. The doc just keeps talking. "How about your name. Can you tell me your name?" The man is still for a second, thinks about who he is. Opens his mouth, and says "Gregory." Doc looks to the side, before he tells, "Well, I can't say it's what I'd have picked for you. But, if that's your name, that's your name. I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings."
The Doc expects a reaction, but gets none, so he starts up again. "Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rooting around in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out. I take pride in my needlework, but you better tell me if I left anything out of place." Mitchell pulls a RobCo Reflectron from under his seat, hands it to Gregory, and waits for a reaction. The picture starts to get clearer, mainly around Gregory. What was just a blur is now a defined face. His skin is tanned, and his build is light. Wrinkles are obvious, but a thick black beard and hair remain.
Gregory remains silent, but hands the Reflectron back to Mitchell. The Doc sets the Reflectron back down, and stands up. "Okay, no sense keeping you in bed anymore. Let's see if we can get you on your feet." The Doc helps Gregory up from the bed, luckily without trouble. The Doc decides on something in a second, and tells Gregory. "Good. Why don't you try and walk to that Vigor-Testor Machine over there. Take it slow now, it ain't a race." The surroundings become clearer, and it is obvious that they are in an old pre-war home, repaired to be livable once more. Gregory and Mitchell walk over to the other side of the room, past various medical equipment and supplies.
Gregory speaks up for once."How is this supposed to help anything?" The Doc looks at him strangely for a moment, before he replies. "It should tell us how well you've recovered." Gregory shrugs, and grabs the handle on the odd machine. After a moment, the machine beeps, and numbers appear in what were previously blank spaces.
5 Strength. 6 Perception. 5 Endurance. 6 Charisma. 7 Intelligence. 5 Agility. 6 Luck.
The Doc sees the numbers, and tells Gregory, "Yeah, that's a pretty standard score right there, but after you went through, I'd say that's great. Well, we know your vitals are good. But that don't mean those bullets didn't leave you nuttier than a Bighorner dropping. What do you say you take a seat on my couch and we go through a few questions? Just to see if you dogs are still barking."
They walk into the nearby room, adorned with empty bookshelves along with a couch and a separate chair. Gregory looks at the ramshackle couch, before he turns and sits down on it, while the Doc takes a seat on the chair. The Doc looks at Gregory and starts. "All right. I'm going to say and word, and I want you to tell me the first word that comes to mind. Dog."
"Cat"
"House."
"Shelter."
"Night."
"Shroud."
"Bandit."
Gregory pauses for a second."Swiss Cheese."
"Light."
"Dark."
"Mother"
"Caretaker."
The Doc writes the last of his results before looking back at Gregory. "Okay, now I got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you'd say. First one: Conflict just ain't in my nature."
Gergory thinks for a moment. "No opinion."
"I ain't given to relying on others for support."
This one comes easy. "That sounds right."
"I'm always fixing to be the center of attention."
This one does as well. "No way."
"I'm slow to embrace new ideas."
"Are you sure these are real? Who wouldn't embrace things?"
"I charge into my problems head on."
"Nope."
"Okay. Almost done here. What do you say you have a look at this? Tell me what you see."
"I see...a chemical reaction."
"Okay how about this one?"
"A ship, at sea."
"Last one."
"A light...surrounded by darkness."
"Well, that's all she wrote. I don't have nothing to compare it to, so maybe you should just have a look at the results. See if it seems alright.
The Doc hands Gergory the clipboard he's been writing on. The notes are defined mainly by three statements. Aptitude for Energy-based Weaponry. Proficiency with basic Repair and Technology. Shows compassion for others. Gregory reads the rest of the notes, and hands it back to Mitchell.
The Doc puts the clipboard down, and stands up. "All right. I guess that about does it. I'll see you out." Gregory and the Doc make their way to the door, passing a hallway nearby. Mitchell stops at the door, and pulls a box of supplies up from the floor. "Here. These are yours. Was all you had on you when you was brought in. I hope you don't mind, but I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me find the next of kin. But it was just something about a platinum chip. Well, if you're heading back out there, you ought to have this." The Doc takes a strange watch-like machine, and attaches it to Gregory's hand. "They call it a 'Pip-Boy'. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one. Ain't much use to me now, but you might want such a thing, after what you've been through. I know what it's like, having something taken from you." The Doc grabs a blue jumpsuit, adorned with yellow stripes a large, white 21 on the back. "And put this on too, so the locals don't pick on you for lacking modesty. Never was much my style anyway."
Gregory takes the box, and tells his farewell to the Doctor. "Thanks for patching me up, Doc. Don't think I would've survived without you." The Doc, replies modestly. "Don't mention it, it's what I'm here for. Farewell." The Doc opens the door, and the light of sunlight blinds Gregory for a second, before he adjusts, and sets the box down to look through it. Inside, he finds a AEP7 Military-grade Laser Pistol, along with 49 Small Energy Cells. At the bottom, he finds the note Mitchell mentioned, and pulls it out, along with 13 Stimpacks, and a selection of spare food.
Finished gathering everything in the box, Gregory takes a look at the town. A road in front of him turns and heads to the nearby General Store and the Prospector Saloon. A robot, large, box-like, and blue, rolls on its one wheel down the road. Gregory pauses for a second, before heading towards the 'Goodsprings General Store'.