Hello People! My name is Lexami243 and this is a new story (one of my rare long ones) and it happens to be a crossover. ^_^
Forgive my mathematical errors in the start if there are any as math is not my strong point. Hopefully language is and you are going to tell me. So R&R after this chapter Plz! Like really… please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout 3 or Static Shock, if I did I'd buy Static Shock, get it up and running again, and then I would promptly ride my private jet to Rome to have pizza, as I'd have millions that I made from Fallout 3, 2, and 1.
P.s. Forgive any errors of direction or placement of places in Fallout 3 and be sure to point them out (Politely). Thank you!
Prologue & Chapter 1:
The Life of a Wasteland Demon
Somewhere in between the years 2066 and 2067 America would declare war with China and the beginning of the apocalypse years after would ensue…
The world would soon be plunged into a catastrophic warzone and nuclear warfare would fill the once proud streets of Washington D.C. with shattered oblivion…
The end of the world was only the beginning…
The few lucky humans of the world's population that were aloud safety and shelter from the torrent of bombs and gunfire were taken to deep underground facilities built in case such apocalyptic happenings would occur…
These facilities…were called Vaults…
And through them the rich and influential were almost always granted a place in them…
But not everyone in the world was rich…
Sadly some unfortunate souls were caught in the blast of radiation and fire…
They live their lives as living corpses, slowly decaying over the long periods of time…
Most know these people as Ghouls…
There were thousands of Vaults located throughout the world and every one had an Overseer…
The Vaults were the next part in mankind's history…
One day all the Vaults were opened and the descendants of the first Vault Dweller's stepped out into the world…
Mankind had survived the apocalypse…
But now they were faced with a new challenge…
Surviving the scorched, dead, unforgiving, radiation filled wasteland that was now to be the world they lived in…
It is said all the Vault's opened accept one…
That was Vault 101…
But out of that Vault almost a hundreds of years later there would be two people the world would know forever…
The first the father of the boy to change the world as the Waste landers knew it…
The boy was the second…
Together they would restore the world's Irradiated water supply back to normal…
They both died after they'd installed the G.E.C.K. and for a few years the world was beginning to heal…
But then something tragic occurred…
It is now the year 3797 and the G.E.C.K. that was supposed to fix the world has now malfunctioned after a few years and the water cannot be purified at all now…
The water has been polluted and metamorphosed into a deadly poison...
The world has now been plunged into a waterless hell…
The little purified water left is now almost ten thousand bottle caps per drop…
The military has gone into hiding and most think the Enclave has been wiped out…
We are living on borrowed time…
Most have lost all hope…
But there are rumors all throughout the Wasteland saying that there is another G.E.C.K. that is hundreds of times more powerful and potentially destructive than the last…
No one knows anything other than it might exist…
Now years and years and years ago there was a chemical outbreak on the docks of North Dakota…
And out of that explosive outbreak dubbed by the local's as The Big Bang…
There were born that day a new breed of, what some believed, to be biological demigods…
The local's referred to them as Bang Babies…
They turned the cities of North Dakota into glorified gang wars…
But some of them fought to stop their corrupt brethren…
The Bang Babies had a variety of awesome powers at their disposal. All varying in their power, mutation, and size…
Most of them were former gangster's gone super villains…
Years past and the bang babies soon realized that they had become ageless…
At least some had…
When the bombs would fall…
When the world would end…
When Ghouls and Super mutants would rise…
The Bang Babies would still live…
Some of them were horribly disfigured by the radiation when it had come into contact with their genetically mutated bodies…
Some of them gained ten times more power than they'd ever had before…
And others would die the instant they felt the radiation's sting…
This is a story of one Bang Baby in particular…
He was a gangster and a bully…
He wasn't a genius, but he was street smart…
He lived a horrible and tough life…
His name as a gang leader was F-Stop…
His name as a Bang Baby was Hotstreak…
His name when he was human was Francis Stone…
His life before the bombs would never be remembered as well as what he'd do after the bombs…
He would become the greatest Bang Baby the world had ever known…
His power would surpass all others…
He would awaken in the year 3777 in an underground lab…
He would survive the first dose of radiation and he would be one of the ones to gain new power…
He would witness things that no man of his years should ever see…
He would be immortal…
And he lived to see when the G.E.C.K. was erected and when it destroyed the world…
He would live a long life…
He would live a lonely life…
He would be dead on the inside…
He would indeed earn the name Stone…
His previous life was gone…
And there was nothing he could do, but think about his future…
He would survive…
The year is 3797 and the world is slowly dying…
Francis Stone has been alive for 1786 years, 1767 of them he spent asleep…
He is forever 19 and he has wondered the Wastes aimlessly for years…
He is hardened and ruthless…
He is famous for his new life of crime…
He is still somewhat spirit filled…
The constant battles for his life have kept him fit…
The radiation's only recognizable mutation is the fact that Francis has color changing eyes…
A small if not useless trait…
In fact it's gotten him noticed far too many times in local bars…
They are the only things that give him away…
They tell the world that he is not human…
They change with his emotion…
They usually stay black…
For he is mostly numb.
Francis Stone is one of the last remaining Bang Babies in the world…
Francis Stone has the ability to manipulate fire…
Francis Stone has the heighted senses of a demon…
Francis Stone…
Francis Stone is feared by the world…
He is known as the Fiery Ripper…
He is the Wasteland's most hardened Raider…
He is numb…
And he will change the world.
The wind was howling like a dying wolf over the dusty wretched plains that were the Capital Wasteland. The dust rose up into the air over broken roads, ruined cars, hills of debris, and found its way to the desolate town of Minefield. The sky was a horrible bloody red and the clouds were a sickly shade of smoky grey as the cloud of dust rolled between the ruins of buildings and cars. The town was completely empty…there was only one figure standing on the third floor of an old grey ruin.
The figure was a tall cloaked young man garbed in a hooded, blackened skin of a rare species of wolf like Death Claw known as a Death Ripper. The young man looked out upon the bleak hills that were once human civilization with blank disdain as the dust filled wind made his cloak flow out around his body violently. The young man was pondering his existence solemnly under his hood and the town of Minefield behind him was regarded much like a shadow of the past. The young nameless man sighed dully into the wind with thoughts of his destination, his past, his life, and his purpose biting at him from the back of his mind like a Feral Ghoul.
'This life of violence I lead…Like burning fires across my soul leaving scorched flesh in its wake, just like in reality. What do I have to live for I wonder? I survive through means of corruption and rebellious deceit… That is what I've always lived for I guess. I'm a demon… I am the god of Anarchy, all Raiders are. Every single fucking day I gotta be reminded of this and I revel inside that mindless chaos of when I find someone to jog my memory… I might as well remember my own blackened ideals if I'm to keep my life long and live without a conscience. Megaton is only a short journey away… I'll rest there for the night before I go to Paradise Falls. I'm a demon… Every time someone looks at me with hatred I can't forget that it's my own damned fault… If I do forget then I am weakening my resolve… Can't have that can I? Ha, I really do enjoy this violent existence-cause that's what it is I lead-an existence… mmm… I need to feel the power…I love to lose myself inside the fire… one day I'm gonna lose my mind. Oh well! Might as well block out the truth if all its gonna do is make me feel like shit-wow am I really angst-y today ha, ha.'
The young man's face twisted into a demonic smile underneath his hood as the wind continued to cause his cloak to whip around him. The young man's build was imposing and fierce as his immense shadow loomed over the Wasteland from his perch atop the old building that was at the farthest corner of the old town. The young man wasn't as sane as he'd been when he was younger and it showed.
The young man's right arm jerked up suddenly and an abandoned house that was nearby was suddenly consumed inside a blinding white light and a massive explosion surged through the earth as the house was now an unrecognizable pile of ash and fire danced around the ground. The young man looked at his masterpiece with his same demonic gleeful grin and in one great leap he had rocketed off the ruin about fifty feet ahead of him and began to bound across the Wasteland with incredible speed. This man was not human… he was barely passing as one.
The young man's hood had flown back when he'd soared off the building and hit the ground in a run. The young man looked no older that nineteen, yet his face looked worn and aged and there was a single jagged scar along the right side of his face from an old injury. The man's hair was spiked crookedly in a mess of vivid red and blond as it was blown back by the young man's godlike speed. His eyes were abnormal… one was a toxic orange whilst the other was an abysmal black and they held what seemed to be decades of pain locked deep inside them. The man's body was like a deadly work of art as he flew along the rocky dust covered hills south west towards Megaton.
His hooded cloak stood out like a cheerleader in a Hot Topic with its light onyx furred texture it looked like a warrior's robes. The cloak was made of the skin of the European Death Ripper and most thought them to be nonexistent, but that was only because if you ever had the chance to see one you'd most likely be dead within the same second. The European Death Ripper was what became of a wolf and a Death Claw when they'd merged together from radiation saturation. Most Death Rippers were only native to Europe, but as to why is a mystery. Some think it's because the snowy climate is so eradiated that the only successful means of merging a Death Claw and a wolf together would be to constantly have contact with the snow.
The young man had managed to kill one and now wore the beast's skin proudly though the fur was making him almost unbearably hot. The fur was almost as good as priceless since no one had ever seen a Death Ripper and lived; let alone killed one. The cloak was tougher than diamond and lighter that silk.
It was impressive to say the least.
The cloak stayed close to his body and hid his cloths beneath it as his feet pounded against the ground almost soundlessly like he was a moving shadow. The young man projected such a beastly grace about himself that it was almost terrifying. His arms moved with his legs as he suddenly skidded to a crouch in mid run and jumped up into the air like a bird.
His eyes shut and his whole form arched up beautifully as he had leapt up a good twenty feet into the air. His back arched into a back flip as he landed on one hand he continued to twisted and dance forward across the ground gracefully. He twisted and jumped and flipped energetically towards his destination and he howled loudly into the wind with joy.
The young man had let go and turned to do the one thing that made him forget his reality.
He ran.
He ran like hell.
The young man was filled with an adrenalin rush throughout his whole being as he bounced off rocks and cliffs while he twisted and playfully leaped into the air like a gazelle. The man had an animalistic beauty about him… he was like a wolf in a way, beastly and graceful, violent and poised, viscous and loyal, deadly and beautiful, he was an animal in this way.
The young man was a killer and a dancer it seemed. This was how he lived for all his life… he had always lived like an animal. This was his escape… he ran from his world.
The young man's massive legs never lost their balance and his whole body moved together harmonically in one fluid pattern. Years of physical hardship had given him the reflexes of a panther and the cruelty of a bloodthirsty lion. He was a demon.
He was an animal.
He was a raider!
He was a God!
He was many things both powerful and cruel, but there was one thing that he regrettably was also.
He was alone.
The white hot sun was sinking below the horizon into the rocky cliffs in the west and the blood red sky began to get a sickly black. The young man dived off a cliff that was a good forty-five feet high and stayed in a brief free fall just living in that moment. That was his code. He never thought too much about tomorrow he just lived for the now. He lived for the moment even if he sometimes dwelled on the past.
The young man growled playfully as he began running on all fours like an animal and soon the view of the city of Megaton came into his line of sight. The sun had set about two hours ago when he had reached it, but he had long since stopped putting numbers with hours. He knew when it was morning and he knew when it was night. That was good enough for him. The young man stopped atop a rock formation for a clear view of the city. He was crouched down on his haunches and the wind rustled his hair lightly as his gaze turned into a cold analytical stare.
The man's eyes had gone black and his face looked cold as ice… Unfeeling.
'I hope Moriarty hasn't killed over yet… it's been almost twenty years now.' The young man thought absently as his chapped lips once again twisted up into a devilish grin. "When the devil comes a knocking…" the young man trailed off quietly into the air as he crept down the slope of rocks to the city gate like a benevolent silhouette in the night. He landed a few yards away from the gate with a quiet thump; he rose to his feet swiftly and with an unfeeling gaze, stalked to the gate like he was a king. The young man was the picture of arrogance as his big graceful strides carried him with a dignified and yet cunning swagger.
The crater shaped city of Megaton had but one gate in the front of it and the gate was usually hidden behind an electric garage like door. Thankfully tonight it was open for the traveling caravans and the occasional Waste lander. As the young man stepped beyond the arch way to face the gate, the ground beneath him felt strangely familiar as his body recognized the odd feeling of returning home. He had only stayed here for five months and that was before he had made a name for himself among the straggling remains of humanity.
The young man's cold unfeeling expression wavered into a look of familiar comfort for a split second, but it was hardly even a small glint in his eyes. Megaton was the town he had stayed in the longest and it was the town that had now come to fear him with a burning severity.
The young man pushed the metal gate open and stepped into the city's walls, closing the gate behind him. The young man sneered as he recalled the man he was about to see again after twenty years, "Moriarty was a slimy bastard… greedy too. I'm sure he'll let me spend the night… if not then I'll just threaten to burn down his bar with him in it. It's a win-win." The young man licked his lips that had suddenly become dry and observed the dark barely lit town.
Megaton hadn't changed at all… it was still in a crater and there was still a dormant bomb sitting in the center of town. The collection of elevated shacks made of scrap metal had small cracks of light coming from a few of them. No one was up and about as he looked for signs of people walking the stairs and decks around the town.
The young man looked around him as he walked down into the crater known as Megaton and when he reached the bomb the city was famous for he realized that the town in fact had changed. With a small barely acknowledging frown he noticed that under the decks of metal high in the air there were tunnels lit by lanterns all around the crater. Apparently after twenty years the town had finally decided to expand. The young man looked around once more so as not to attract attention with witnesses and then leapt up an inhuman amount of feet into the air and landed right outside of Moriarty's Bar.
The bar was just like he remembered… an old decrepit collection of scrap metal and grunge ruled by a biased and conniving old man named Moriarty. The young man smiled dryly as his memory of the place hadn't dulled at all in the last twenty years, 'Ah…there's no place like home… now if only home was a better place.' He thought sarcastically as he pushed open the old door with great force.
The bar was unchanged and there were a few new faces staring at him with shock. The young man marched into the bar commandingly as he let the door slam shut in his wake. It only took a short while for the looks of shock to morph into horror as they recognized the man's Death Ripper cloak. The few occupants stared at him like he was Satan himself as he glared ruthlessly back at them all like they were vermin. Truly… the young man was a force to be reckoned with. He stood tall in the entry way and stepped towards the line of barstools in front of him about three feet.
The bar was a shabby rundown place… much like most of the rest of the world he'd seen. The young man slammed both of his large calloused hands down on top of the bar counter with such force it shook the whole room and suddenly with a demanding shout he bellowed over the whispers of the few inhabitants. "Where the hell is Colin Moriarty?" the young man's voice was rough and roguish, tinged with years of fighting for his life. His sudden shout made the people in the bar jump. Suddenly a curtain behind the stairs shot open and a woman in her mid-forties now stood in the room staring at him along with the others.
Only she was looking at him with more disbelief than fear.
"Frankie… Frankie Stone? Is… is that you? Or… or are you his son… No fucking way! You haven't changed a bit!" The attractive woman had faded red hair cut short and rebellious, wore a leather outfit that showed off her assets, and had a seductive undertone in her otherwise awestruck voice.
The young man turned to regard the woman with a shocked expression and found his voice less hostile, but it was still intimidating. "Nova, I thought you'd have left this God forsaken hell hole by now… Is Moriarty still alive?" The young man asked the familiar face casually and the woman dubbed Nova answered him automatically, "Yeah, he is." Before she boldly walked up to him and stood right in front of him with a distant look. She reached a shaking hand up to touch his cheek. "How… How is this possible? It's been over twenty years and yet you don't look a day over 19… how?" Before she could touch him he backed away with a cold look directed toward her.
"I'm gonna crash here tonight. I have some business up at Paradise Falls and don't think I won't drag you up there with me. If you so much as look at me the wrong way I'll collar you and send you off with the slavers." The young man's voice was cruel and unfeeling. Nova glared at him with hatred and jerked her hand away like she'd been burned. Nova sneered up at the taller man and addressed him by his world renowned title.
"I see the tales of The Fiery Ripper are true… I suppose you've changed after all. You're a heartless bastard and if you want a room, talk to Moriarty, because I sure as hell won't give you one." She then walked past him and made for the door. The young man roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her to face his soulless blackened eyes now fill with a reddish tinge of hatred around them. His lips curled up into a beastly snarl as Nova looked upon him with new terror, "Don't act like you know me! You can't judge me, because I don't give a damn about your judgment. What do you know? Get the hell outa my sight, whore." His harsh words hit her like a train as he shoved her roughly to the door.
Nova looked at his back with fear, hatred, and… pity.
"You're right… I don't know you. You used to be a little less of a mother fucker back then… now you're just a glorified dog." Nova walked out the door without another word… leaving the young man…The Fiery Ripper… to seethe.
He growled dangerously at one poor soul that had caught his eye and was suddenly interrupted by the door behind the end of the bar opening abruptly with a thud. From behind the door emerged an old withered man with greasy grey hair and a beard holding a shotgun with a fierce look on his aged face. "What the hell is going on?" The old man didn't notice the young man until said young man lost his patience. The young man leapt over the bar's counter and ripped the gun away from the now startled man. He hissed through clenched teeth at the man he once knew. "Moriarty, I need a room and I'm taking one, so give me a key or I'll make sure that your shitty bar turns into a shitty pile of ashes."
The old man stood immobile as he faced the unchanged face of the boy that he used to know with shock and without asking any questions pulled an old rusty key out of his pocket and handed it to the angry young man.
The young man snatched the key with a tag with the number five on it and once again leapt over the counter and up the stairs.
Colin Moriarty was speechless… But he knew well enough not to address the old face. He could only grasp the back wall to keep from falling and listen to the stomps from the young man up the stairs. Over the years Colin Moriarty had learned a number of things… 1… if accosted by a group of all-female raiders do not try to flirt your way out of it.
2… Do not get involved with Slavers (Not since he got on their bad side five years ago).
…and 3… if you ever meet an ageless man, do not ask questions and you'll keep your knee caps.
This is what he lived by and as Moriarty turned back into his small back room he could only think about one thing. That one thing was to turn around and warn the patrons of the bar grimly, "No one is to breathe a word about that man to Harden and if I get word of someone blabbing I'll hunt you down like the stupid bastards you are!" and then turn back into his room with a sickly feeling in his gut. Moriarty hardly ever got shaken up about anything… ever. So when Colin Moriarty got a bad feeling in his gut it usually meant that whoever was causing him unease was not to be messed with.
'First those Vault Escapees and then Frankie Stone… I always get the fucking crazies. If only Gob were still around… filthy Ghoul… at least then I could ease my fucking nerves! Jesus Christ that boy hasn't aged at all! He's not human… If he doesn't get the hell out of my bar by tomorrow then I'll have to force him out… maybe the Church of Atom has some holy water.' Colin Moriarty fell into a troubled sleep and it was as if he didn't quite think that this was real. He could only ignore the fact that there was an ageless demon above his head and block out his fear.
Meanwhile the young man had escorted himself into his small one bed room and flopped down onto the bed lazily. He hadn't even taken the time to undress as his tired muscles hit the worn filthy mattress with a heavy thud. The young man was tense from all the old faces he'd seen and he could only escape into his thoughts tonight.
Only tonight could he have the leisure of working out his problems, because this was a rare thing for him. He never really had a decent life or sleeping arrangements and now as he stared up at the grimy metal ceiling his thoughts ran on in their own melancholy way. His eyes closed as the day's exhaustion took hold of his mind and he began to fall into a troubled sleep.
'My name is Francis Stone… I was born in the year 1991 in what used to be North Dakota. Yeah… that's who I am. I used to be in a gang… what was it called again… damn, can't remember. Uh, I think I knew a girl name Frieda Goren at one point… oh I had a crush on her at my old High School. God, I don't even know why I bother to jog my own memory. It'll never be the same… I hated the old sterile white hospitals back when the world was alive. Hey, I can recall when I got turned into a Bang Baby! Wow, that's an old one… Static Shock and Gear used to suck all the fun out of it.'
The young man felt that if he could remember who he was and where he came from that he could still hold onto a piece of his old life. With every scattered memory he could grasp he felt a great sense of sentimentality and he could always see his memories in such vivid detail and color. The young man's eyes were tightly shut as he lay on his back with his arms at his sides and his old life flashed behind his closed lids.
'Oh, I knew someone named Ebon… a living shadow. I-I was in the hospital for two years when I was about… how old was I? Oh well, age really doesn't mean a thing anymore… why was I there? I… I was beaten by… that sick bastard! My own father almost killed me! Beat me into a near coma! My mother didn't give a damn about it either, just let him do it… oh I don't wanna think about this. I… I'm a Bang Baby maybe the last and I'm alone forever… that's real depressing.'
The young man groaned out like he was in pain and in a sense he was. He had no one and no one knew him. No human being knew the real Francis Stone… all they saw was the cold blooded killer behind the name The Fiery Ripper. He'd done so many horrible things in his life… cruel things… wrong things… he'd been alone even when he was surrounded by people. He had decades of loneliness to contend with and it had taken its toll on him. He was once just a normal kid… he went to school, he was a bully, he didn't take shit from any one, and he had lost his childhood to abuse, drugs, and crime.
He was a man now… he was more than that, but even the devil gets lonely when even your own demons fear you. He was the leader of the fiercest band of Raiders ever to cross the wasteland and soon when they'd realized just what he was they'd turned their backs on him. Now he was alone with his thoughts and the hated stares of the world. The world had ended and he was still breathing… he couldn't bring up the surrender and kill himself though. He was stronger than that… he was tougher than a Super mutant's hide.
All the years of fighting… his whole life had been one big solitary battle and that was how it was always going to be. He'd been hardened, he'd been wizened, and most of all he'd been deadened. Sometimes he would pray to whatever God there was to die… but he never would.
He lived inside the darkness that was his soul… he dwelled in the numb abyss that was his mindless self-destruction… he was a cold unfeeling shell of the kid he'd used to be.
He wasn't a deep person nor was he complex, but he knew what it was like to feel the bitter sting of self-loathing. He hated himself and so did the rest of the world, but that didn't stop him from lashing out against them. If they wouldn't accept him, if they feared him, if they hated him then he'd treat them ten times crueler than they did him. He didn't need any one to carry him along… he was a living statue and the world knew that.
Just as the young man was about to lose consciousness he sat up right and reached inside his cloak pulling out an old gnarled heavy black journal. He held the book in his hands with a blank expressionless stare and pulled out a small black pen that looked like it matched the book. The young man sighed with regret as he held the book in one large hand and opened it in the middle with the other. He searched the torn and aged pages of the book that looked almost to be centuries old and found the page he was looking for.
The young man hunched over still holding the book in one hand and began to write with the other as his expression appeared to be void of all emotion.
And that is the end for now! I have chapter 2 all set up if you happen to enjoy this so please R&R telling me so. ^_^
A person once said that I needed to stop whoring for reviews… well sorry to say that I'm a whore! :P… for reviews… not in real life… I'm a virgin so that can't be possible… well it could be I guess, but I'm not because I'm… Ok I'm off subject. ^_^
Read & Review = R&R = Me So Happy :D
Lexami243
P.s. Oo, also, for a fun little thing why don't you tell me what come to mind when I say the words Butter, Hotstreak, Rolling Pin, Lawn chair. Here's what comes to mine: Hotstreak tied to a lawn chair covered in butter being wacked by his crazy neighbor Lola who claims that he is a "Big Buttery Sausage". ^_^