"When I was 10 years old I received my

Pip-boy from the vault overseer. It gave me a way to navigate, keep track of my jobs and organise my weapons. It told me the repair conditions of my gear, how much ammunition I had and it's corresponding firearm. When I first received the device all I had to keep track of where my chores around vault 73 such as cleaning, helping out in the kitchen and doing mail routes. When I turned 16 I took the goat exam and discovered that I was going to be a security officer. I was issued with a vault 73 armoured jumpsuit, a helmet with a visor, an extendable police baton and a 10mm pistol. All members of the security staff were given strict instructions to use force only when completely necessary, and the pistol only in life threatening situations. We were taught how to disarm a knife wielder with a tap to the wrist, and were required to spend 1 day a week at the firing range. One day I was on patrol when I saw a rad roach crawl down a hallway. Thinking nothing of it at the time, I followed it. As I rounded the bend I saw it disappear through a doorway. I entered the room and my jaw dropped. I was not prepared for what was on the other side of that door. Rad roaches. Thousands of them. Crawling over each other, crushing each other, fighting for space. Their antennae were probing, searching. They all stopped. They knew I was there. I wanted to run, to save my own life, but I had a duty to the vault. I pulled my pistol, but it was futile. There probably wasn't enough ammunition in the vault. The vault was doomed and I knew it. I rallied the security force and held off the roaches for as long as I could, but we were soon overwhelmed. I locked every door I passed through until I got to the residential areas. I gathered every man, woman and child in the vault and got them to the entrance. We left vault 73 for good and made arrangements with vault 101 to bring in refugees. I intended on joining them, but I realised something at that moment. Like my father before me, I had a long road ahead of me, but the vault was a dead end. It was all I would have had to look forward to. My best friends in maintenance and medicine, Shaun and Samantha saw this my way. Hiding from our friends as they entered the vault was the hardest thing we had to do, but if we didn't, we would still be wasting our time their today. That's my story."

Jackson looked down at his dirty glass, the muddy brown whisky in it looking cleaner than what some of the people in the bar were drinking.

"Tough break."

"Yeah," Jackson agreed. "Look, I have to go, but it's been nice to have a conversation with people other than raiders."

This got a few laughs from around his table. Jackson stood up, dumped a few caps on the table and walked to the door.

"Excuse me, I hear you're a mercenary"

Jackson looked over to the table where the voice had come from to see a blonde lady sitting by herself. She was attractive enough, but Jackson didn't notice. He'd been working with Samantha for 6 years now. She'd raised the bar.

"What can I do for you?"

"I have a letter to my family in Arefu, but it's too dangerous for me to make the journey. If you deliver the message for me my family would be grateful."

"How grateful? Give me a number."

"I don't know, but it'll be worth it. It's only a short journey. Nothing to it."

"Then why don't you go?" He had her there.

"Look, if they don't pay you, I'll give you everything I own."

Jackson thought about this. If he wasn't paid for his services, he would get a bunch of junk from a wastelander who couldn't afford to pay him anyway.

"Ok. But they had better pay."

"Thankyou. My names Lucy."

Lucy handed him the letter. Jackson felt bad for being so hard, so he left some caps on the table.

"Drink's on me."