A/N: After realizing that I forgot to break up the paragraphs in the first version, I decided to redo the story.
On the western edge of the Capital Wasteland, a nameless stranger sat on the edge of a small cliff, eating the irradiated meat of a Yao Guai. He was a strong, tall man, often wearing a stitched ghoul mask to conceal his identity. He had an assortment of knives, and an old, pre-war hunting rifle, which Crazy Wolfgang said had belonged to Abraham Lincoln.
"Yeah right," the stranger thought, "I wonder how much money Wolfgang makes off of poor saps like me."
The rifle had never failed him, though. He kept it in excellent condition in case he was caught in the middle of a firefight and couldn't afford a jammed weapon. It was indeed fitting that this particular rifle belonged to the stranger, for he himself was a former slave.
He remembered it perfectly. He was much younger, much livelier back then. Even at 14 years old, the stranger was a near-perfect shot with his trusty hunting rifle. The stranger had a name back then, Orion. He and his father were traveling hunters, tracking packs of Yao Guai, ants, and whatever else was deemed edible by his father. One day, a lone wastelander, bearing nothing but some travel-stained clothes, a pre-war Chinese pistol, and a grimace on his face, approached Orion and his father.
"What can I do for you, sir?"Orion's father cheerfully greeted.
"I… I'd like to buy some food, if you have any…" the strange wastelander stammered. It was obvious that he was either very hungry, or very nervous.
"Well you, sir, are in luck because my son and I were just about to set up our campfire and have supper. You can join us if you'd like, my treat."
Several moments passed as the wastelander stared with a sorrowful look on his face.
"I'm so sorry" the wastelander whispered.
Before Orion or his father had any time to question him further, a circular beam or light hit both of them and they were knocked unconscious. When Orion awoke, his clothes, rifle, and his father were all gone. Instead, he wore dilapidated pants and no shirt. He found himself in a pen with a barbed wire fence, which looked to have fresh blood on it from an unfortunate slave. He murmured groggily
"Where the hell am I?"
The guard near his gate responded: "You're in Paradise Falls, kid. The one and only hub in the Capital Wasteland for slaves like you. Now I suggest you shut the fuck up and don't try anything, unless you want your head in a bunch of tiny pieces."
"Wait," Orion said in a much louder voice "Where's my father?"
"Fuck if I know, kid. I'm just here to protect the merchandise, like you. Your father's halfway to The Pitt for all I know."
This made Orion's blood turn cold. He had heard tales of The Pitt from Crazy Wolfgang. Talked about some crazy shit going on up there, ten times worse than anything in the Wasteland, for sure. Orion hoped, for his father's sake, the guard was lying. He later found out that his father had not been killed, but had been bought by another caravan. Orion hoped that, wherever he was, his father was still alive.
The next few years were quite a blur to Orion, who suffered many a beating at the hands of his captors. There was one who was particularly nasty, Ymir was his name. Ymir often made a point to punch Orion in the gut with his prized steel knuckles. Orion grew to hate him, along with most other slavers in Paradise Falls. He did, however grow to become friendly with the doctor at Paradise Falls, Cutter. Though Orion thought she had a rather ironic name for a doctor, he became quite familiar with her dark, dank office, and thus became somewhat friendly with her.
"I know Ymir hates some people," she told him one day, "but judging by your broken ribs, I'd say he loves torturing your ass."
Orion didn't need anyone to tell him this, but it helped that someone sympathized with his situation. Even with someone like Cutter, days felt like an eternity for Orion as he labored in the sewers or for Eulogy Jones when he was chosen. Eulogy was even worse than Ymir, even going so far as shooting Orion in the leg when he was late with his beer. Sometimes, Orion wanted to end it all, it seemed like the easiest way out of the torture and pain of slavery. The only thing that kept him going was the dream of being rescued and the hope that his dream will be realized.
One day while performing one of the more menial tasks of transporting some supplies to Cutter, Orion heard a large 'boom.' As he spun around, still clutching the 30 pounds of supplies, Orion saw something he hadn't seen since he was a boy: Regulators. Somehow, the bands of vigilantes had blown open the main gate and were firing on the front guard.
"Make sure Eulogy is safe, and get those lazy fuckers in the barracks over here!" yelled Duo, the guard captain.
Orion dropped the supplies and quickly decided to hide behind the counter at the café. He began to sprint towards the location when another large explosion rang out, this time in the south wall near Eulogy's pad. Several regulators poured out of the gaping hole in the wall, firing off many rounds at the small resistance they met. After the action died down, Orion stood up from behind the counter. One of the regulators spotted him, and called out to one of his comrades:
"Hey Jackson, get the collars off those slaves." Orion was still in shock as the tall, scruffy-looking man walked over to Orion and greeted him.
"Looks like this is your lucky day, huh?"
"I…I guess so." Orion responded.
Jackson pulled out a screwdriver and some kind of grease. He then began to pour the grease on the hinges of Orion's collar and proceeded to unscrew it. Within about two minutes, Orion was free of the horrid contraption which had kept him in line for so long.
"Alright, you're free to go." the regulator said. "Oh, and no thanks necessary, we got what we came for." Orion looked puzzled but nodded his head in appreciation. He assumed the regulator meant Eulogy, who had a sizable bounty on his head amongst the regulators. Jackson was about to walk away when
Orion called out to him: "Do you have any spare weapons, food, anything?"
Can't say we do," Jackson replied, "But you're welcome to take anything out of those buildings."
Orion thanked him and parted. He spent the next hour gathering supplies from Lock and Load, Cutter's office, and the food court. Cutter's body was just outside of her office, several bullet holes piercing her chest. Orion remembered the kindness Cutter had shown to him, and asked one of the regulators to give her a proper burial. He exited through the hole in the front gate and turned back, taking one last look at the place that crushed his spirit for so many years. He paused for a few seconds and then departed, never looking back.