***Hey people, I'm a newbie to this site and to doing this sort of thing, so bear with me! I've been reading some really great stuff on here over the past few days, although most seems to be about the Lone Wanderer in some sort of incarnation or other . . . also, there seems to be an unhealthy fixation with Charon O_o Anyway, I was fairly surprised to find that there is little written about James and his adventures (or any that I could find, at least), so I've decided to dip my toe be writing an opening chapter about what the beginning of his journey might have been like, please read and enjoy!***
BOOK OF JAMES
Chapter One: 'a great and terrible thing'
Looking out into the dark, picturing the harsh and blasted waste that stretched for miles and miles, now draped in the murky shadows of night, James took a deep breath and reluctantly turned to regard the battered wooden door behind him. With a pang of guilt, he questioned, yet again, the righteousness of his actions. He thought of Jonas, who'd been a valuable assistant and loyal friend for almost a decade, left behind to try and explain what had happened to that foolish and arrogant Overseer, Almodovar.
"James, stop worrying. I can handle it, just stick to the plan."
"Right. You're sure? You remember what to tell them?"
"Yes! That I knew nothing of your plans and was held at gunpoint to let you through."
"You know how Alphonse feels about me, and interaction with the outside. He will not suffer this, he'll take it out on you . . . and on my daughter."
"Look, I said I'd take care of her and I mean it. She's tough, and she's got friends here."
"You've got my message for her?"
"Right here in my coat pocket, now will you get out of here! You're wasting time!"
"Right. Thank you, Jonas. For everything."
"Goodbye, James."
They had shook hands before, after another brief hesitation, James turned his back on his friend, his daughter, and Vault 101. He walked briskly down the metal gangway towards the now open Vault entrance and the pitch black cave beyond. He didn't look back until he was outside.
He thought of his other friends, Stanley Armstrong and Herman Gomez, and how they had helped both him and his daughter over the years to fit in with the Vault community, only now to be betrayed through his abandonment, by someone they had come to trust as their doctor and friend. But most of all he thought of his beautiful daughter, Evelyn. He thought how she was clever and strong like her mother, yet fragile and vulnerable down there without him. His sudden absence will leave her lost, confused and hurt. He had lied to her, all this time, and now he was running away without telling her the truth. Like a coward- No! His mind fell into conflict again as he finally tried to combat the guilt.
I must remain focused on my mission. I have a duty, a responsibility to do all in my power to help the people and to fix this land. Hiding away from it inside a hole to live comfortably and safely – THAT is the cowardly thing to do. Project Purity is too important, it's my, no, our life's work. Oh Catherine, my love, please watch over our dear child and give me the strength to go on and finish what we started.
James forced himself to turn away, back towards the endless cold and dark of the Capital Wasteland. Part of him was relieved to be out again, free of the oppression and isolation inside 101, whilst another part longed to retreat back there, away from the cruel and unforgiving world he now had to face. What a great and terrible thing this new freedom was. Pulling his lab coat tighter around his body and shifting the weight of his small supply pack slightly, he started making his way down the steep, sloping trail that wound between jagged outcroppings of rock. He reached the remains of a highway at the bottom, and looking back, even in the dark he could tell how easily the sloping trail into the rough hillside was camouflaged against all but those how were really looking. His eyes, now accustomed to the early morning dark, scanned the dim horizon that stretched out ahead of him. He could head east along the road and into Springvale, before turning south. It would be quicker and less rocky, but he knew better than that. No, he still had a few hours before sunrise to reach Megaton. Instead he would head in a straighter direction on an unused trail, south-east through the surrounding hills. James wasn't a fighter by nature, he was a humanist through and through, born to save lives and help people. He knew with his lack of expertise – and not to mention supplies, he wasn't even armed – he would need to be extra careful. However, neither was he completely ignorant to survival in such hazardous situations, and he had good instincts. For example, he knew that roads and settlements (no matter their level of decay) are always far, far more likely to be watched than less obvious routs, daylight or not. Therefore he turned right and headed along the cracked and broken road for only a short distance. Checking his Pip-Boy, he began to recite, quietly but clearly, over and over as he went;
"I am Alpha and Omega", he began, "the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely". A short pause, then again, "I am Alpha and Omega . . ."
Before long there was a break in the twisted, rusting partition that ran along the roadside. It coincided with a large impact crater of some sort in the concrete road itself, where foul looking (and smelling) moisture had gathered at its bottom. James left the road and headed into the unknown dark of the rocky hills beyond. Suddenly there was a crash somewhere to the right, further along the highway, in a second James slammed into a large boulder and crouched. His heart hammering, he very slowly raised his head to reveal a fairly steep incline, where he could just about make out the outline of a wrecked car at its top. He tried to force his eyes to focus more on the dark shapes ahead, but he couldn't locate to source of the noise. There was definitely something moving his way, however. He was just about to stand further when he caught movement as something moved out from behind the car. He braced. Then exhaled in relief. A small tin can came rolling down the hill towards the crater nearby, followed by a second.
"Shit." James said, almost laughing, "Just the wind." A pile of rubble or half eroded shopping cart had obviously fallen over. The wind. He hadn't even thought about it until now. He wished his attention hadn't been brought to it, either. If there's only a few things James can remember about life outside the Vault, the cold and constant winds were one of them. He now realised, that after nearly twenty years, he had begun to take more things inside the Vault for granted than he first thought. Between the inherent coolness of being underground and encased in almost completely metallic surroundings, and the heat generated from the engineering, power reactor and incinerator levels, it was easy for the Vault-Tech ventilation systems to maintain a comfortable living temperature throughout the entire residential and work facilities. There was no such comfort out here against nature, or, whatever warped form of nature that had emerged from Man's destruction.
Pulling his coat tighter still about him, James set off once more. Looking up to his right, he could make out towering remains of a freeway. Their silhouette was even darker than the black night sky behind them, making them imposing and ominous. James shivered and tore his gaze away to the east. He knew that, in lighter hours and low dust levels, he would be able to make out the Washington Monument. A great obelisk, dedicated to some man, now long lost, along with the land that he built. It was a relic of an ancient world, one that only few remembered, and those only through the diligent study of dusty old books and failing pre-war technologies. Still, it seemed to hold some power, and gave hope to those that still believed in rebuilding America. James carefully clambered down the few rock faces that would take too long to go around, but mostly he was able to move between them, making fairly good time. The ground was relatively stable and was beginning to even out the further he got from the Vault's hillside entrance. Still, the ups and downs and the irregular climbs were tiring. During his Vault life, James had looked after his body as any decent physician would, but the home comforts has meant that he perhaps isn't in the best possible shape, and is not the most athletic of sorts.
Breathing fairly heavily after another small hill, James came to rest against a snarled and blackened tree, the first of quite a few which opened into a kind of glade area. He knelt on one knee with his back to the bark to catch his breath for a moment. Running his hand over his face to remove some odd specks of perspiration, he suddenly froze and looked up. Another sound had penetrated the muffling wind; howling. Wolves, or dogs, or some mutated half breed of some sort. Either way, vicious and likely to attack on sight. It came again, but where? With all the rocks and rolling hills it was almost impossible to determine how far away, and from which direction the origin was. James had been making his way downwards and south-eastwards for over an hour now, it was likely to be at least as long again until he reached Megaton. No longer concerned for his level of personal fitness, James quickened his pace and resumed his trek through the trees. His best option was to keep moving. He couldn't wait for daylight to catch him, but the pre-dawn darkness offered no protection against a dogs hearing or sense of smell, either. He dashed from tree to tree, from boulder to boulder, stopping to scan ahead before traversing each bit of open ground. Every few minutes or so there would be another howl, James was convinced from at least two separate sources, but it could be from anywhere up to a mile away. This continued for the next forty-five minutes, until James was happy that the fading sounds meant that he was moving away from the animals and was not being hunted. He was breathing hard again and had developed a slight stitch under his left ribs. Bent with his hands on his knees, he caught his breath again.
Walking at a more manageable pace again, James made his way through another patch of trees when he suddenly noticed that the distant eastern sky was beginning to lighten slightly, and, crowning a final slight incline, he saw a vast and sprawled silhouette before him. A series of jagged and irregular shadows jutting out of the basin that ultimately lay at the foot of the hillside from which he had crawled. Megaton. James couldn't contain his sense of joy. I've done it! He checked his Pip-Boy, Hmm, it's been two hours and eleven minutes since I left the caves. He'd have saved between thirty minutes and an hour, tops, by using the road through Springvale. Between the tin cans and distance canines, James was content with his choice. Another five or ten minutes and he would be at the town's gates. I'll walk down closer to the perimeter and then follow it north to the entrance. He thought.
James arrived to see that the outer-entrance was unsealed, but between him and the cover of the inter-entrance stood a pre-war RobCo Industries robot. He took another step when suddenly it activated and, raising its arms, stated,
"H-a-l-t. / S-c-a-n-n-i-n-g. / U-n-k-n-o-w-n / c-i-t-i-z-e-n."
James wasn't a whiz with robotics, he stood and observed its rusted and battered frame. It was obviously the recipient of many, many repair jobs, and the odd piece of chipped, olive green paint told James enough, however. "Hmm." He mused, "Army issued Protectron. Probably a 'T-Series', programmed for security."
"C-o-r-r-e-c-t." Replied the machine almost immediately. "P-l-e-a-s-e / s-t-a-n-d / c-l-e-a-r / a-n-d / a-w-a-i-t / c-o-n-f-o-r-m-a-t-i-o-n."
It was then that a floodlight from above ignited, bathing James in cold light and dazzling his twilight-adjusted eyes. Metallic thuds as someone moved quickly along the gantry somewhere above. Then a voice, "Step away from the robot. Out into the open where I can see you. Quickly!" James did as he was ordered. "Hands where I can see them!" The voice barked. Raising his hands, James tried to shield against the light to get a look at them, but all he could make out was a faint outline of someone holding something long, pointed downwards. Probably a rifle. "It's okay" James called out, not quite as calmly as he'd wanted, "I'm unarmed. Just a traveller." An uncomfortable pause. The man above seemed to be talking to someone else, out of James' earshot. Then he heard more footfalls on the gantry. Slow, confident strides. Finally another voice from behind the floodlight, a deep and commanding tone that James recognised quite well . . .
"Well, I'll be," it said, "Just look what the Wastes dragged in."
***There we have it! Hope it wasn't too grueling for anyone who read it . . . It seems quite slow, but, you gotta start somewhere, right? Obviously there's an untold story to be told with our good man James here, after all, we only manage to catch up to him at Vault 112, where, armed only with a much soiled jumpsuit and a measly .32 pistol - he now finds himself an imprisoned pooch in a twisted scientists' virtual reality! God only knows what he's been through . . . well now we might find out :P If I get around to continuing, more action is to come, I promise!***