Destiny? What a Joke!
Before I really understand what I want to do, I find myself walking down White Bluff Road a few miles west of Vault 95. This time, I feel relieved to be leaving the bunker behind, knowing that whatever tied me to it has been removed. Before, there was always a thread of hope that maybe someone I loved could survive the attack. Now I know that they did live, but to what end I'm still clueless. I have so many doubts about returning to the power plant, but at the very least I need to return my equipment to the armory.
A heavy wind blows in from the south, chilling me to my bones. December 5th. Three weeks before the pre-war holiday of Christmas. 'Tis the season!' I'd hear the adults cheer all the time. Funny that the children would be less interested than the adults. Or maybe it makes sense. I guess once you've lived cramped up in metal walls your entire life, you have to accept some kind of distraction.
I've been thinking a lot about my dad on this walk back to White Bluff. Something about finding his old locker and reading Edson's thoughts on his plans to build a security robot causes memories to surface. Like our last Christmas together. Five years ago, 2240. I'd just turned eleven the week before, so we'd pretty much celebrated the holiday already. Went ahead and got both occasions out of the way—'efficiency' he used to call it.
He gave me a copy of The Big Book of Science and a hand-made 1/20 scale Mister Handy. How he managed to put Lil Swiffer together I never did understand. The robot could actually respond to commands, assuming they weren't too large-scale for him. The fact that the Overseer let him do it to begin with was astounding.
But the book was the best part, I think. I was always smart, and he could see that, so he wanted me to soak in everything I could. Hell, I actually asked him to help me disassemble Lil Swiffer, and he said yes! All the work he did he just took apart, all because I wanted to try it myself. He died on Christmas Eve; cardiac arrest was the official diagnosis. I don't know if I ever believed that. It seemed too simple, too clean. To have my dad taken from me so suddenly was…hard.
Mom and I never celebrated Christmas after that. We tried to be 'jolly' for my brother, but it wasn't very convincing.
And now I'm in this wasteland, no Christmas trees, no snow, just this piercing cold wind and death. I try not to live in the past. In fact, until the attack, I'd never given my past a second thought. I broke down in our little camp yesterday and cried for the first time in years, because I hated my fate. I hated that I was stuck here without my family or friends.
But the more I think about it, I can't help but feel like this was meant to happen. It's so stupid to think this way, to think that this had to happen the way it did. But why would the Imposters have waited until just this year to attack us? How long have they known about us? I want to know the answers to these questions, but I don't think I'm willing to storm their base to get them. I want the puzzle to piece itself together, but life doesn't work that way.
Before I know it, I'm at the small metal gate and guard booth. The soldier greets me with a silent nod and pushes his little switch. As the gate slides open, I hear a familiar voice call out to me.
"Johnny! You decided to come back after all!" Mr. Edson waves his arms violently from underneath the All Soots of Fire front awning. He attracts everyone's attention, much to my embarrassment, before Old Man Miller knocks him in the back of the head with his cane. The old technician falls silent instantly.
I approach him with haste, wanting to avoid the next burning explosion from the broken tower. Once I reach the window, Old Man Miller greets me with a hoot, "Well if it ain't my favorite customer! How ya doin' young'un?" His toothless grin drives away my gloomy thoughts.
"I'm fine, sir." I turn to Edson before remembering the burden in my bag. "I may have some more loot for you, if you wanna trade it."
"What're we talkin' here?"
I drop my bag carefully despite the Water Chip's sturdy chassis and draw out the box of sensor modules. The window opens just enough for him to grab it from the bar and examine its contents. I see him eyeing me cautiously, like I'm trying to trick him or something. He sets the box down on his side of the window and cocks a questioning eyebrow toward me.
"Th-they're sensor modules…" I mutter, not exactly sure what he wants from me. I mean, surely he knows what sensor modules are. "If you want to buy them, they're yours."
"I know what they are, jackass, but where'd ya find 'em?" He tosses one in the air and catches it then runs his other hand down the antenna. He taps the red wire at the top gingerly. "Never seen so many in this good of shape before."
I let out a sigh of relief; he wants to know why they're so pristine. For a second I feared he thought I was trying to sell him faulty parts! "I found them in Vault 95's storage area when I escorted the Brotherhood over there." He looks at me awkwardly, putting the module back in its box.
"Alrighty young'un, since ya sold me Lights Out, I'll take these buggers off your hands!" His grin grows wider at the mention of Lights Out…Redfield's gun. I have to fight a shudder as it grows in my chest at the thought of the way I killed the raider scum. "Thirty caps each, final offer!" he hoots.
"Deal!" I chuckle, reaching a hand through the window. Then I remember that he doesn't shake and quickly draw it back. I'm not sure how much sensor modules would actually be worth, but since he's an arms dealer and not a mechanic, I figure I'm getting a good deal.
He counts the modules and begins to count the caps.
"Johnathan Andrew Neal, by order of Elder Wallace of the Mid-South Brotherhood of Steel, we are to escort you to our debriefing room. You will accompany us peacefully, or you will be taken with force."
Two armored Knights approach, both carrying large glowing miniguns focused right on me—or at least the general area. I look at Old Man Miller expectantly, as if he'd tell them to fuck off until he's done counting caps. Instead, he keeps on counting.
Edson looks at me with more than a little fear in his eyes and he chuckles, "I'll take care of your bottle caps for you, Johnny. Just come see me when you get a break." The Knights take a stern step forward.
I can't help but roll my eyes at the inconvenience. I should've expected something like this. Coming back to White Bluff was like screaming for the Brotherhood to drag me into their discussions. After all, it's my Vault that's been attacked. Of course I'll want to help them!
"We had a deal," I speak bluntly, defiantly. I don't move.
"Yeah? The First Regiment requested you personally. They've been waiting. Far as the deal's concerned, you're still our prisoner." The Knight on the right lifts his gun higher as if taking aim, not like he'll really need it. "Come peacefully, Local."
Not giving me much of a choice. "Whatever…" I sigh, raising my hands in innocence. I kick my bag gently toward Edson as I walk away from the window.
It's a cold, silent walk. The Knights don't even try to talk to me, and I couldn't care less about making idle chit chat. I feel their eyes tearing into me as they make me take point. More than once I feel the barrel of the right Knight's weapon jab into my back. What, am I walking too slowly for you military jerks? Not like I'm going to make much difference in the debriefing anyway.
It takes us a few minutes to enter the facility and wind our way through the halls. We reach an expansive room with a long wooden table in the center, computer terminals scattered about randomly. On the wall hangs a massive red banner, the Brotherhood insignia etched in gold: a long sword in front of three interlocked gears, a pair of wings stretching below them. A nice symbol, if a bit vague.
I'm greeted by Elder Wallace's condescending voice. "I hadn't pegged you for a sentimental boy. You certainly spent a long time in that facility." Something in his tone angers me, mocks me. "No matter; you're here now."
"We had a deal," I echo myself, annoyed by the concept of being a prisoner. "I was going to return the equipment, of course."
"Have a seat, Local," the old man waves at a chair in front of me. All the other important Knights are seated on the opposite end. "Senior Paladin Clayton refused to continue our deliberations unless you were present."
The Paladin in question glances toward me before standing up. He sighs, "This is just as much your concern as it is ours, Local." A small projector wired to the top of the room whirrs to life, faint images appearing on the wall behind Wallace. "The lives of the people you used to know are riding on our decisions today."
"No, those lives are riding on your decisions. I've got nothing to do with this." My voice is even colder than I wanted it to sound, but the words are true. As far as my priorities are concerned, I gave up on the Vault the minute Michael hit me with his baton and told me to calm down. "I've already told you I want freedom, not revenge."
Elder Wallace shifts in his seat so as to rest his elbows on the table. He looks at me and groans, "There have been others before you, Johnathan. Other normal individuals who were dragged into doing great deeds despite their conflicting ideas." His pause is unnecessary and annoying, but he's old and needs a breath. "The story of the Vault Dweller who defeated the Master's Army comes to the forefront of my mind. The Brotherhood Archives speak volumes of his achievements, going so far as to establish an entire community after being banished from the Vault he journeyed to protect." He stares into me, judging me.
Vault Dweller? Master's Army? He was…banished…from his Vault?
"But I'm not like him," I shake my head. "I'm just a kid who was in the wrong place at the right time. If I'd been anywhere else in the Vault, I'd probably be with everyone else right now…"
"Exactly!" Wallace slaps the table, standing from his chair with more energy than I expected. "So why is it that you weren't in any other room? Coincidence? Surely not!" The screen behind him flashes to show an image of a man in a Vault 13 jumpsuit with a dog at his side. Underneath is scribbled the words 'Vault Dweller' and 'Dogmeat.'
The elder continues, "There was another man, just a few years back, out in California. He was descended from the Vault Dweller, born in the very community his ancestor helped establish. They'd long since become a group of intelligent Tribals, but their leader told stories of the Vault Dweller's deeds. And the Vault Dweller's grandson took on a task to help that little community survive." Where is this going? I don't care about heroes out west, I care about living my life!
"They called him the Chosen One, destined to do great things. He did more than save the village of Arroyo; he saved the entire wasteland from the Enclave's experiments with the FEV virus mentioned in your holotape."
The Vault Dweller vanishes from the wall and is replaced by a large man with war paint on his face. A massive disfigured creature stands tall beside him wearing a shoulder pad made out of a pre-war tire. Creepy.
Clayton coughs, "That thing beside the Chosen One is what we call a Super Mutant. This one in particular went by the name of Marcus and helped the Chosen One on his journey. He was one of many remnants of the Master's Army that the Vault Dweller stopped. The Master used the FEV to turn humans into those things. But not all Super Mutants are intelligent or capable of rational thought." The picture shifts again to an image of a group of those monsters standing over mangled corpses and puddles of blood. "Most of them just want to kill."
"The Enclave Imposters," Wallace takes the reigns again, "is using your fellow Vault residents for its FEV experiments. With almost nine-hundred people to work with, they'll eventually get it right. And when they do, when they figure out that it takes however long to avoid making a Centaur, we'll be up to our necks in raging monsters." The image flashes away and is replaced by one of a…
Something! It's hideous, like it's melting! Its head is balding and it has weird tentacles running from its mouth; the thing's chest is covered in lumps and it looks like it's sloshing around on the ground. It takes everything in me not to vomit.
"That's a Centaur…" Senior Scribe Fields mumbles.
Wallace continues, "Edson and yourself are the only survivors of your Vault, but he isn't capable in combat. You don't think that somehow, in some way, you were meant to do this?" His words reek of ignorance for a man so old. How long has he lived that he can honestly say he believes in—what, destiny? "It may sound insane, but I've witnessed it with my own eyes. The Chosen One saved the wasteland, just as his grandfather before him. I don't think that it could ever be coincidence that they were special."
I can't hold back a chuckle as he finally stops talking. He looks me in the eyes as I sigh, "Destiny's a bunch of bullshit and you know it! You think it was destiny that destroyed our world? Was it destiny that sent those raiders to my cave to kill Michael? Destiny that took my life from me?" My humor melts into anger as I consider it more and more. "If it was destiny that ruined my life, then I don't want any part of it! I have a choice, just like those other guys did."
The Brothers in the room share looks of concern. Were they relying on me agreeing to help them? How stupid could you be? I've already told them I don't care!
"I'm not a hero and I'm sure as hell not some pawn for you to play with. We had a deal. Whatever you do with those Imposters now is none of my business." I can feel the anger in me as I consider my words. My head is screaming for me to leave them alone, to be free, but my heart is trying to drag me the other way. After all, my mom and brother are part of that experiment. The least I can do is try to help save them, right?
Elder Wallace sits in his chair as the picture on the wall changes again. This time, it shows a large vat of goop sitting in the center of a ruined building. There's a biohazard symbol on either side of the large 'Forced Evolutionary Virus' label. FEV. Evolution?
He sighs, "If you truly wish to leave your acquaintances to their fates, you may return our equipment to the Armory and be on your way. Just know that, should you find a monster out in the wastes days or weeks from now, that it was most likely someone you lived with in that metal shelter." The way he says it really strikes deep. If it does come down to it, and I meet a Super Mutant from Vault 95, would I be able to pull the trigger?
Of course. Because the wasteland is full of monsters. Including me.
"Am I dismissed?"
Footnote:
Temporary Perk Removed: In Shining Armor