Vault 112, Two days later…

The large door stood before her, a testament of human ingenuity realized. Emblazoned with a large one-one-two, she shivered at the familiarity of recycled air and cold steel as she threw the switch and waited. The familiar klaxon sounded off as the door slid back, exhaling the mechanical perfume of grease and oil. The sounds it made as it slid open, the violent shriek of metal grinding on metal gave way to memories of her departure.

It felt like yesterday, watching Amata be sealed away and the damage that she, her father, and Jonas had created in their wake. Poor, Jonas. She shook her head at the thought of her friend lying cold and lifeless on the floor. A large gash across his scalp exposed the crack beneath. He had probably tried to calm the situation; he was passive about so many things that everything just escalated before he could do anything.

Her hands tightened into fists as she stepped over the threshold and it to entranceway. It was as quiet as a tomb, except for the sporadic beep of panels that dotted the various sections of the room. She walked up the stairs, her boots thudding the slotted steel walkway until she came to a door. Opening it released another sigh from the vault. It was subtle; the creak of metal along its concrete frame, the smells, the sights, all seemed to be reminiscent of her home.

She peeled her sunglasses off and set them on top of her head. Placing her hand on her 10mm, she entered another large room. Her eyes examined the entire area. It was empty. The precautious edge she had gained, forced her to close the door behind her. In the distance, she heard the whirr of gears and tracks upon grating. Her hand tensed and saw the creator of the noise roll in to the room on its thick tracks. A large brain covered in a clear shell approached Quinn and beeped.

"You are 202.3 years late for your reservation," it stated in a fake sing-song voice. Its arms flailed wildly as it drew closer. "Welcome, inhabitant to Vault 112. Please change into your Vault 112 jumpsuit. If you have forgotten yours, another will be provided for you."

"Alright," Quinn replied with a sigh. "I need another one."

The robot rolled closer, opened a small slot in its torso and retrieved a vault suit. Quinn again sighed at the thought of wearing the stiff item. She disrobed; leaving everything folded on top of a console and suited up in the worn Vault 112 suit. The fabric scratched at her skin and the smell was of old oil and some other foreign substance she couldn't figure out.

The robotic greeter beckoned for her to follow. She obliged; taking note of how empty and cold the building was except for the robots that they had past. Each chirped a warm welcome and continued on their way to some clandestine place. Where is everyone? She continued walking in relative silence until they came to a set of stairs.

The greeter turned to Quinn with arms flailing about wildly and said, "Please find a vacant tranquility pod. Thank you. Enjoy your stay."

Quinn walked down the stairs and into a large room. Large pods surrounded a central computer at the center of the room. She walked around them, examining the people in them, and the contraption that had them tightly wound into the fabric of their Vault. They were expressionless as watched a monitor in front of them, the flickering light gave a faint profile of the inhabitants, but when she knocked on the glass, no one responded to her.

One by one she peered into the pods, confounded that she hadn't found her father. I should have found some evidence that he was here by now. She came to an empty pod and began to open it when the flash of one of the pods drew her attention to it. She hurried over and looked up into it and saw her father, motionless and devoid of her presence. Weeks of searching and fighting had been rewarded at last. She was ecstatic to see him. Her eyes glazed over in tears of joy. She didn't care about it then, for not all tears were an evil.

"Dad!" she yelped. She pounded the glass to get his attention. "Dad!" Again, she pounded, this time harder.

The delight in her discovery faded when she recalled that making noise changed nothing. He was so close, yet so far away. It was a small defeat that she wasn't going to take. Not after she'd crawled, basically, on her hands and knees to get to this point. She wasn't going to back down now. He would have never allowed that drive to diminish when he was so close to what he wanted. Her eyes followed the heavy black wires to the central computer and looked at the computer screen directly across from her father. His life signs read across the screen as elevated with an addendum that it was possibly stress related. She looked over her shoulder to the pod and back to the screen, her eyes narrowing on his stats for a few more moments.

She glanced at the vacant pod and smirked. Nothing was going to stop her now, not when she was so close to getting her father back, even if it meant hopping into two hundred year old tech to get him back. There has to be a way. These people should have been up by now. Maybe it can be fixed from the inside. I need to get him out of there. She approached the pod and let out a sigh. This better work. She climbed into it and took her seat in the chair. The upper casing of the pod sealed around her and let out a cold hiss as the pressure shifted. She sat back let the popping in her ears subside and took a deep breath. A large monitor swooped down in front of her. It flashed several times as it whirled to life.

Down the rabbit hole, Alice.