Prologue

March 12, 2278

It was another cold, wet day in the murk of the northern ruins that lined what were once the Great Lakes, and one man was out plying his trade somewhere in some ruined city.

The old name of the city had long since been lost in the all-engulfing anonymity of the history-swiping nuclear war that had turned this place into the hellhole it was. Even the scant few settlers that had decided to take up residence within the blasted shells of its ancient buildings hadn't given it a name. Travelers referred to the settlement and surrounding wasteland as "Anonymia" or "No-Name-ia" or just "The Dead Lands", because that was what they were, in essence. There was no wildlife, only the most stubborn of plants could take root in the poisoned soil, and the people there all had a corpse-like pallor and distant, faraway manner due to the lack of both sun and social interaction. The lands were poor, merchants were few and far between, and there was little in the way of trade. Only a few had ever decided to venture into the city.

Scant was one of those few men. His real name was Jacob Scantley, but people referred to him as Scant for two reasons: one, it was easier to remember, and two, it suited him well. Scantley only owned what he could carry, which included his clothes, some food and a gun- one of those old .41 caliber service revolvers officers from the pre-war military got as a gift, more for show than functionality, although it had killed many men before. Other than those few things, he had nothing. Anything he needed, he obtained his way.

Scant was a thief- no better way to explain his preferred trade. Some considered him the best in his business, but if anyone ever asked what he thought of himself, Scant would just reply a guy who "does his job, and just happens to do so better than some other people". People contacted him when they needed to get something done, Scant would do the job and give them what they wanted. He was reliable, savvy and, most importantly, never got caught.

As it turned out, Scant was being commissioned to steal one of the few valuable things up in The Dead Lands. A small group up there had come across what was apparently a very valuable piece of Pre-War technology that someone wanted badly enough to fork over half a million in cold, hard caps for Scant to go and get it.

Half a million would buy Scant's retirement, a thought that he had been nursing more and more over the last few months. He was going on his thirty-fifth birthday, already far beyond the threshold of youth that used to fuel his mad raids on high-security fortresses in the dead of night. Thirty-five meant it was time to slow down, to settle in a nice, quiet village, meet a cute girl, maybe even get a couple younglings and a dog (if he felt like it). And half a million in the universal currency of these United States would definitely see him on his way.

So here he was. Midnight, standing outside a well-lit building bustling with the aforementioned corpse-people, their pale skin, dark hair and skinny bodies moving about as easily as they did in the daytime. Scant crouched inside a pile of rubble from a fallen high-rise apartment complex across the street from the settlement, watching patiently as the people quietly moved about. The thief wondered what it would be like to be one of the corpse-looking people- feeling safe, completely unaware of what was about to befall them. Scant pushed the thought out of his mind as quickly as it had come; he needed to focus on the job ahead, and think about life as a civilian later.

Two of the corpse-people eventually patrolled away from a drum-brazier, heading around the back of the building, and Scant saw his chance to get inside. Shifting a piece of corrugated steel off the top of his hiding place, the thief skittered quickly down the metal and concrete piled in front of him and headed for the front door, his footsteps almost silent against the sounds of shifting metal and moaning wind mingling amongst the ruins. He made it to the door in twelve seconds flat and slipped inside, past a small knot of the pale people standing around another brazier on the ground floor.

Past that group, through the main atrium of the building, over to a red emergency stairwell, the locked door presenting no problem to the accomplished burglar. Once he was past the door, Scant ran straight up to the fourth floor of the building and through another locked emergency door. Looking about, the thief detected none of the settlement's citizens obstructing his path to the triple-locked door he had observed the previous day, looking through a pair of binoculars while perched atop a tall building nearby. Black as a shadow and silent as death, the thief crouched before the massive vault door, looking at his daunting new task.

Carefully listening using a stethoscope he had stolen from a clinic towards the outskirts of the city, Scant entered a combination into the safe and slowly swung it aside, revealing his contact's target.

It was a nondescript black box, several bare wires sticking out of the sides. Taking his backpack, Scant slipped the box into the rough leather sack, slipped it over his shoulder, and disappeared.

A/N: Yes, I know, this was a short chapter, and it was bare of information on anything. It has a lot to do with the plot, though, I promise. And for those who were wondering, Scant's gun is a Smith and Wesson Model 57 .41 Magnum with a six-inch blued barrel and a walnut grip. Normally it would run you up to around $1100 US, but Scant probably pinched it off some guy, so he didn't have to pay full price _

I own all of the Fallout games, but the copyrights belong to Bethesda Softworks and Interplay. Scant's gun belongs to Smith and Wesson.

If you enjoyed this first chapter, have any advice or just want to make a shout-out to yours truly, feel free to write a review and give your opinion. Don't hold back on it.