Hello all! One day I decided: I'm bored, let's write something. So I did. Due to my spontaneity, this story is more word barf than edited work, so please don't expect much! I haven't written in ages - I'm sure my ability to write has rusted to the point of incomprehensible ramblings. To clarify the story - this will be the adventures of the Lone Wanderer, although I haven't decided whether to simply retell the main storyline or go on another track. I'd also prefer to keep her nameless, simply because it feels weird to give the Lone Wanderer a name.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout 3, the good people of Bethesda do.

Once Upon a Time In the Post-Apocalypse

When I took my first look out to the wastelands, I thought: "beautiful".

Well, it was actually "oh my god, I'm blind!" But the experience was more or less the same. It was my first time seeing the outside. It was this great big thing I had read about in books, like a fairy tale come to life - and I was the heroine. I was a kid who dreamt about swashbuckling adventures. With no roof, no overseer, nothing to contain my excitement, I reverted into that kid.

I expected, under the complete hysteria of having been run out of the only home I knew for the past 19 years of my life, that things would start looking up. Sure the outside was a post-apocalyptic wasteland that had my Geiger counter singing worse than I did in the shower, my dad had pulled a disappearing act more magical than Andy could ever hope to mimic, and I no longer had a home, but for once in my short life, I felt completely free. It was no surprise that I eagerly came across Megaton (a town with enough common sense to build around a bomb) and found my first adventure in deactivating a pesky nuclear warhead. Let me tell you, it was a mite trickier than fixing a broken toaster and I can only say thank god for mentats.

I won a house out of that deal, fully equipped with a robot butler. Needless to say, I was feeling more than a little full of myself. The world had tossed an atomic bomb at me and I had batted a home run- more than I ever accomplished on the Vault 101 baseball team. I was ready to take on the world. I was going to hunt down my father and yell at him for leaving me behind when I was clearly a capable young adult.

Being the amazing heroine I expected to be, the rest, I should say, was history.

...

Except I'd be lying. My first impressions of the Capital Wasteland were sadly misconstrued. I found that the waste could become a metaphorical hell on earth. And it gets really hot too. I swear, on some days I could slap a cut of brahmin on the road and have it well done. I'd eat it too - irradiation is a terrific germ-killer...

Sorry, I'm getting off track. Now let's see... where's a good place to begin? You probably don't want to hear my life story, no matter how much free time you have.

I was sucker punched into reality during Project Purity. Let me say I had one hell of a wild ride falling off my high pedestal.

Wait. Do over. I'm getting ahead of myself. But this is a story of a heroine, so why not begin somewhere exciting?

I guess the first time I killed a man is a good place to start. What's with that look? Don't think I could do it? You've been out here longer than I have. First rule of survival is to trust no one; hell, you can't even trust yourself. Pain in the ass I was, since the day I popped of my mother's womb.

Digressing again. Sorry. Anyways, the time I first killed someone, less than a week had slipped by since my dad left. I was fresh out of the vault and utterly clueless.

I stared up at the grimy building proclaiming to be the Super Duper Mart. I wondered why it was so super, since I was dubious on its having any cheap, nutritious deals inside. Not anymore. But I had to see if there were any "salvageable goodies", as Moira said, and I needed the money. 100 caps to find out where my father had wandered off to. Moriarty did offer me a job to get the caps, but I trusted the snake as far as I could throw him - and believe me when I say I couldn't lift the guy.

I pushed one of the mart doors open and peeked inside. The place was just as decrepit as it looked - except for some eerie hints of life. There were the hastily constructed walkways atop of the aisles, for one, and then there were the headless, limbless bodies being used for home decorating. I gagged and forced myself to keep going. It had taken me a few frustrating hours to find this place and I really needed the money (famous last words if any were ever said).

I ducked low behind a counter and crawled down an aisle, feeling more than a little sneaking suspicion that I wasn't alone. A minute later I tripped over a grocery cart and landed on my rear. More important than the pain to my poor backside was the confirmation of my suspicions. A wild looking man wielding a knife popped out of nowhere and hummed "found you" like we were playing a game of hide and seek. I nearly screamed, but self-preservation kicked in and I shut myself up by biting the inside of my cheek - harder than I should have. I tasted blood and wondered if it was the last thing I would ever taste, but somehow the 10mm pistol that Amata gave me made its way to my hands.

"Now mister, I have a gun and you have a kitchen knife. Let's step back and assess the situation diplomatically." I reasoned earnestly, as best I could with swelling inner cheek. I was still in the "vault mode" of mind and assumed law and order and plain human reason still existed. It was the first and last time I attempted diplomatic negotiations with raiders.

The man apparently doubted my aim because he gave a nasty, yellow-toothed grin that said "I'm not listening" before lunging at me. Now, if there's anything you don't want to do, it's call me names (I'm looking at you, Butch), and doubt my aim. I was short and weak and could barely run a mile without feeling asphyxiated, but I spent years shooting my old BB gun when I wasn't pitching for Vault 101's baseball team.

I pulled the trigger and the raider fell dead at my feet. I let out a shaky laugh, felt glad I was alive, and promptly threw up on my shoes. I made it out of the Super Duper Mart without another hitch and returned to Megaton to collect my caps and dad's whereabouts.

I was admittedly frightened yet reassured – I could survive out here; I killed a man who had wanted to kill me and earned a few caps. I was a hero who disarmed Megaton's bomb and saved countless lives. I lived to fight another day, I was at the top of the food chain, etcetera. I felt damn near invincible.

I was tired and nauseous nonetheless. I dragged myself into bed and was out like a light.