The next morning, mom and dad leave for town. They have business to attend to, and plan on coming home later this evening with supplies for mine and Dizzy's excursion into the Wasteland. Tonight, will be the last night we eat as a family, and when it's done both of us will head out into the never-ending vastness that our parents stalked so many years before. Last night, when I told Dizzy that I was going to go with her, she didn't react like I initially thought.

At first, I was expecting some sort of tantrum. Expected her to continue to argue with our parents about it, even though it was very late by the time dad and I returned home. But she didn't. She sat on my bed with me, silent as ever, and thought about it. When she was done thinking, she looked at me and smiled. She said, that with all she'd heard in a single night, she was happy I was being forced to tag along. Because then at least she'd have someone to talk to, and confide in. I didn't tell her I wasn't being forced, and instead let her believe I was. I'm not sure, what's really worse in this situation. Me being happy about spending more time with my sister, or knowing that time will ultimately be my downfall in the long run. I don't know how it will be, but I can just simply feel it.

As for right now, I'm smoking a morning cigarette I flinched off of dad before he and mom left for the day. It's a warm morning, as most mornings are in this desert-like climate. I don't want to leave my house, and I don't want to really do anything. It'll be the last time I see home for a while. Not sure really, how long that while is, but it'll be more than a month I know that. Dizzy, on the other hand, is still sleeping. She can't sleep like this in the Wasteland, but, I figure I'll let it slide today. Tonight she won't have a bed to call her own.

I should be pretty excited right now. Should be happy, to be going out into the Wasteland with my sister, with no supervision, no parents, and the world at our fingertips. Dad says it's an experience that can't be compared to anything. That…whatever happens out there will ultimately bring Dizzy and I closer together. Yet…here I am, lump in chest, wondering why I'm not leaping for joy. Maybe it was last night, and the talk I had with my father. His tone was monotone when we started to walk back. As if he was disappointed in me. As if I had done something horrible. It could be the onset of homesickness, knowing soon I won't have my mother, father, bed or roof over my head.

"Cain?"

I turn my head to my left, where the stairs are. Dizzy stands in her Raider armor, a tired and worried expression on her face. I thought she was going to sleep in, soak up the essence of a warm bed for the last time. Looks like I was wrong about that.

"Hey. What's up?"

She comes and sits by me, putting a pack of cigarettes on the table just as I poke my own one out. Dizzy lights hers, and puts her head down in the crooks of her elbows.

"…I'm scared."

Dizzy says it so openly, so plainly, I nearly have to close my jaw with my hand. Hiding her face, she smokes her cigarette with her mouth close to the table. I lean forward on my elbows, curious.

"Of what?"

"Leaving home."

"What? Diz, you should be excited."

"I know, I know but…I'm just scared that…things will go bad. And I'm scared of how big it is. And of the dangers. And the Raiders…"

"You went out fine before."

"Yeah well, that was before we got attacked. Cain, it was never like that for us. Out there we literally have no one. Here we have mom and dad, and they protect us. But out there…people can be missing for miles and miles and even more and more miles. What if we run out of radiation? Or really, really hurt? Or bullets, even?"

Her worrying makes me worry. She has every rhyme and reason to be scared, but it's just not like her. Maybe because the Dizzy I'm so use to is closed-off, brazen, bratty and impulsive. Getting to re-know the Dizzy with insecurities and fears is a little hard, and moving fast.

"I'll be with you, and you won't have to worry about any of that."

Picking her head up, Dizzy takes a drag of her cigarette and raises a perfectly-formed eyebrow at me.

"You sure are sure of yourself."

"Well…it's my job. To keep you safe."

"Why?"

"What?"

What exactly is she asking me, again?

"Why is it your job to keep me safe? You've always said it's your job, but why?"

I never thought of it that way before. Mom and dad always told me, since the day Dizzy was born that it was my duty to keep her from harm's way. After hearing it for so long, so many times, I just took it as the norm. I'm older, and she's younger, there's really not much else to it. But, the way Dizzy asks me, makes me think there is. That somehow mom and dad have this secret hidden agenda for her, or for me even, both of us, and I was never to know about it. Thinking of it that way makes me realize how stupid and silly it sounds. I shake my head at my thoughts, and feel my hair against my brow.

"Because I'm your brother, I guess. I don't know. Mom and dad always just…sort of told me to keep you safe. Probably because I'm older."

"And a lot like dad."

"What do you mean?"

Dizzy leans back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eye. Since forever she's gotten that look whenever she knew something anyone else didn't. I used to think it was funny, especially when her and I would team up against our parents. Now, though, it worries me.

"Well…you're a lot like dad. You're the same height, build, eyes, face I'd even go far to say. So…where does mom fit in?"

I shrug, and try to play this one off coolly.

"I don't know. You look just like mom, you know."

"No I don't. I look like both of them. I can't see any of mom in you."
"How do you know that? How do you know what dad looks like aside from a ghoul anyways?"

Dizzy shrugs, and sticks her tongue out at me.

"I have no idea what he would look like, but I'm guessing you. I look at mom a lot, and you have nothing of her at all. Not even like, your ears."

"Mom changed a lot over the years. You have her mother's hair."

"Yeah well, that's a genetic thing. What? Are you saying you look like mom's dad?"

"I could. You never know."

"Yeah well I'm just saying. It's fishy that you're just like dad."

"It's fishy that I look like our shared parental unit and took on some of his genetic personality traits?"

I think Dizzy realizes her stupidity in asking me questions. Granted, knowing the truth, she was right. But I can't let her know that, and the only way to end the argument is to be one-step up from her. Which trust me, isn't easy most of the time. Usually it's…a pain and I end up losing. When it comes to protecting a deep secret, though, I can be pretty good.

"Yeah, you're right. I think this whole finding out about mom and dad's renegade past thing has my head all fried up. Can you believe mom and dad fought the Brotherhood? I mean, I only ever heard of them, but still."

I've had a lot more time to digest the story of my parent's escapades. Dizzy, however, hasn't. Her amazement isn't misplaced, because I was just as shocked when they told me for the first time, too.

"You've only ever heard of them because mom and dad got rid of them."

"And the Talons?"

"Gone."

"Outcasts?"

"Gone."

"Enclave?"

"Gone."

"They really fought all of them? And took down all of them? Big, organized military people?"

"Sure did."

She has a look of shock, appreciation, and admiration on her face. One time, forever ago, I asked my father how all of it was possible. How two people, with only one having formal training, take down the largest organizations in the Capital Wasteland and escape with their lives? They didn't tell Dizzy about the facility below the Citadel Ruins, and for good measure, but it's another military clan break-up to add to their list. Anyways. When I asked dad, he smiled at me. Said that when two people love each other a whole lot, even the impossible is possible.

I was really young when I asked that question. Now I understand what he meant by it. A lot of people didn't agree with them, because they were symbols of sorts. You know, symbols of freedom in the Wasteland. Without any restraints on the land or themselves. The bases and people they abolished all wanted to create organization in laws, where anarchy had prevailed and proven good, for once. In the end, they went after mom and dad in their own personal ways. Both my parents, not wanting to lose the other, fought until they were broken and weary. I can see how they did it. Two people are a lot harder to find and catch, than a large base of operations. They had stealth and surprise on their side. Can you picture my mother doing any of this with a plan? No, I didn't think so.

"Then…maybe we shouldn't be so scared."

Dizzy says, staring at the ceiling and still leaning back in her chair.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs again, stubbing out her cigarette after a last drag.

"With all the baddies gone, me and you really have nothing to worry about out there. Except the natural dangers. And the Raiders."

"Yeah, you really shouldn't have gotten mixed with them."

Suddenly serious, Dizzy looks at me. Even though she has my mother's oval-shaped face, it's the jaw muscles that scare me. When she's serious, she clenches them exactly the same way my father does when he's mad. Exactly the same way I do.

"…It wasn't me they were after that night, you know."

"What?"

Leaning forward, she gets closer to me.

"It wasn't me they were after, they told me. It was you."

"Me?"

"Yup. They didn't tell me why, only that 'pretty boy Cain' can tell me the truth. But…I don't get it. You never ran with Raiders, and I did. Why…would they want you?"

Dizzy was really out of it during the confrontation I had with them. Hearing her question these things puts at ease my fears of her hearing too much. So I play stupid.

"Probably since you hung out with them, they know that a way to hurt you is to get to me. Or they have a grudge against dad. I don't know."

Accepting my answer, Dizzy stands up. She stretches, yawns, and runs her fingers through her hair.

"Well, alright I guess. I have things to do and people to berate one last time before hauling ass out of this dead end town. I'll see you tonight at dinner."

She heads towards the door, but I call out to her.

"Wait, Diz."

Dizzy turns, facing me with her hand on the doorknob.

"Do you have your gun? Just in case, I mean."

Pointing to her hip, I see the .44 Scoped Magnum there. My fears diminish slightly, and she smiles at me.

"I got my own back, hot-shot. Don't always need your rescuing, remember that one."

"I will. I'll hold it against you when we run into trouble."

Sticking her tongue out once more at me, Dizzy is off to the land of people and Megaton. God knows what going-away trouble she's going to cause, and I'm hoping it's not too severe. Shaking my head as I hear her excited footsteps turn down the hill, my eye catches something on the table. Dizzy left her smokes. Usually they're attached to the palm of her hand like an extra limb. I smile, knowing why she probably left them. It wouldn't be hard for me to go out and trade for some, or spend some caps and get my own, I just haven't left yet. I think this is her way of saying thanks, for whatever it is I've done.

Getting up to find my boots and put them on, I light a cigarette from Dizzy's pack. It tastes exactly like mine, but when she smokes them, they smell so different. Maybe it's just my own mind playing tricks. Finding my boots in the living room near the couch, I sit down to put them on. My hair brushes against my eyebrows, and gets in the way of my vision. Before I go maybe I should get it cut. Dad always said his hair was the same length, like someone forgot to cut his hair back to military style, and it just grew.

As I'm finishing lacing my boot, someone knocks on the front door. Getting up, I don't think twice. With mom and dad back in town, anyone wanting to come here and start trouble is too scared to. I open it without checking who's there, and I'm surprised.

"Erica?"

The shock almost makes me drop my cigarette. She looks up at me, her green eyes wanting sympathy. I look, but there's not much left in me.

"Can we talk?"

It's the words I'm sure every guy fears, and every girl eventually says. I didn't think there was room for talking. Her flipping out and leaving abruptly didn't really give me any reason to go and try to 'talk' with her. Why she's here now I can't figure.

"Uh…what?"

"Cain, I have to talk to you."

I lean against the doorway, letting her know that I'm not about to let her come in my house. It's my house, and I don't have to let her in. Besides. She…actually hurt me.

"I'm listening."

"It's about how I acted the other night. Look. I heard your mom saying she was buying things for you and Dizzy."

"She is. Both my parents are."

"To go out into the Capital Wasteland?"

I nod as I smoke my cigarette. Erica sighs, and shakes her head at me.

"…Do you know…how dangerous it is out there?"

Turning away from her, I walk into the kitchen. Leaving the door open for her is a basic invite for her to walk in. She waits till I'm at the sink before she invites herself in, closing the door behind her.

"I was made for danger. Literally, if you remember."

"…That…may be true, but you've never left before."

"I did, once a few days ago, with Dizzy. Didn't turn out well."

I turn to face Erica. She has a worried and confused look on her face. Putting out my first cigarette, I light another one. The women in my life cause me to smoke far more than I usually do. Erica remains silent, and for some reason this makes me angry. Just looking at her makes me angry. I can't pinpoint why, but…all the things I've ever resented come to the surface when I see her face.

"What the hell did you come here for? To look stupid?"

I snap when the silence gets too much to bear.

"Cain? What? No I came here to talk to you."

"Than fucking talk already!"

"I don't want you leaving!"

It gets silent. It kills me, and I look around. There's no one here to help me, and even if there was, it wouldn't turn out good.

"It's none of your business. And you shouldn't care. You left me, remember?"

"…I didn't want to leave. I just…didn't know what else to do…"

"And how do you think that made me feel? Not even Dizzy knows what I am! You expect me to be open and close to people, to you, when this is the reaction I get?"

"Cain…don't…"

I hit my fist against the table. It shakes, as my anger takes hold of me. I'm not like my father. I can't control the slew of emotions that come at me. I can't control my anger.

"Get out. Get…out…"

Erica backs away slowly. She made me feel as if I wasn't a person. As if I truly was the nothing, the freak, that they created. But with her leaving, my anger stays. I stare at my hands, my father's hands. A cheap copy, of an imitation. My father was the same as every other boy in that place. He was only special because of the skills he honed and learned. How many times can you copy something, before it loses worth? How many times can you…can you want to give life, before having life becomes meaningless?

Storming out of my house, I walk down the crater in search of my father. There's things I have to take up with him. Things…I can't figure out on my own. With each step, the anger in me rises, and I shake. My mother…my father…they're not my parents. I'm a freak. The adopted freak. They took me in out of what, pity? I remember the look on my mother's face when she saw me. When she found out who I was. She looked at me like I was…was some sort of divine creation. And I'm not. I'm not anything. For all I know, I could have a cellular breakdown and dissolve into nothingness before their eyes at any moment. I'm not made of sperm and egg, I'm made of cells, plasma, and blood.

Noise passes by my ears, and all I hear is the impending silence of the outside world. From the corner of my eye, I see Dizzy's silhouette heading over the cliff to the right of Megaton. Someone bumps my shoulder and breaks my concentration.

"Watch where you're going!"

The resident says to me, and I lose all control. I attack him, in the middle of the crater, where the puddle and bomb once were. He's smaller than me, as most people are out here. It's not hard, to bring him down to the ground. Not hard to raise my fist, and even easier to ignore his own attacks on my body. A small crowd gathers as we scuffle, and I find I want to hurt him. Really, really hurt him. Before I can, I feel strong and familiar hands wrapping around my wrists.

It's my father. Charon. The one I was meant to surpass. Urges I've never felt before bubble and toil inside, and I'm not strong enough to fight them off. So I try to do, what I was made to do, and be better than the man who raised me. As he pulls one of my arms behind my back, using his weight to push me off of the citizen, I use my own, equal weight against him. Pulling free with my left hand, I hit him in the jaw. The crowd gasps. My father's eyes meet my angry ones.

"…This is how it's going to be, Cain?"

He says in his gravelly, rough, and accented voice. I narrow my eyes and nod at him. Without anymore hesitation, my father skillfully knocks me off of my feet. Pinning me to the ground, I kick and squirm. I'm not like his other opponents. We're perfectly matched in height and weight. He forgets that, and I'm able to toss him off of me. People in the small crowd start jeering, start throwing things at me. They don't like me, attacking their protector. It makes me feel like an animal. Like I'm truly nothing to them.

"Stop it…stop it…stop it…"

Memories of the home I came from, the place I was created in, come back to me. I remember the older kids, and how they'd torment me. How us younger ones would have to band together, to avoid the abuse we'd receive by those who we were supposed to look up to. I cover my ears with my hands.

"Cain!"

My father shakes my shoulders, and fearfully I look at him.

"Cain! Tell me, what's wrong? Cain! Are you in there?"

For the first time, my father is worried about me. I can see it in his eyes, those eyes of his. I can see it. Worry, for me, for only me and not for my sister. Not for my mother. But for me. If he's worried about me in the past, I was never able to see it. But I see it now, and the jeering from the crowd falls on my deaf ears. The silence doesn't kill me. I need his help.

"Cain!"

He shakes my shoulders again, and I start to tremble. I want to make my own choices. I want to forget these urges, this anger, the reason I was created. I want to be normal, that's all. I want to forget, the Raiders came after me, and got to me through Dizzy.

"…Dad…"

"Come on, talk to me, come with me…come on!"

He pulls me through the crowd, and I tear away from him. Tears well in my eyes, and I stare at him. He looks back, confused, and hurt. Did I hurt him?

"You made me! You made me! Do something! Do something about this!"

"About what?"

Charon…acts like he doesn't know. I punch the nearest thing, a filled trash barrel, and it leaves a dent.

"This! This! Do something about this! I was made because of you! Tell me what to do! Tell me!"

Staring at me, as my fist throbs, and feeling like I'm nothing, realization washes over my father. Looking past me and at the crowd I've attracted, he walks back over to my side, and whispers in my ear.

"Calmly come with me."

Still shaking and trembling, I feel his arms wrap around me. In a way, that would make almost anyone feel safe, secure, protected. Gently, his feet begin to move, and I'm led back up to the house. Step by step, inch by inch, we walk up the crater's side. With each step, my anger slowly vanishes. Why? Because somewhere in my mind, I know for the first time someone is going to listen to me. My father, is going to hear what I have to say, and instead not be concerned with the people of Megaton, my mother, or my sister. He's going to take the time, for me, and I've never gotten such attention. I've only ever received training, and last night's advice. I want to remember everything he ever said to me. I want to remind myself, maybe, he does care for me.

Getting inside the house, my father releases his grip. It's only then I realize he was keeping me from flipping out. Standing in front of me, I see the ghoul I would be.

"…Help me…"

I say to him, hoping he hears the desperation in my voice. Hoping, that all these urges, feelings, wants and desires…won't stay cooped up for long.

"You're changing."

"…How? How, dad, tell me!"

He backs away, and lights a cigarette. Handing it to me, he motions for me to sit. I take the cigarette, and shaking, I sit.

"…You were created to fight. To listen, obey, and follow out commands. That is in your genetic makeup. That is the difference between us. You are not a product of human nature, but of science."

"How do I fix it? I need attention! I need someone to drill out all these unknown urges! Dad I hit you! Dad!"

I'm a small child, crying for my father. Crying, for someone to fix and bandage whatever it is that's wrong with me. I need my father, to give me the attention, I was never given as a child. Attention, I never would ever think I needed.

"Calm down! Listen to me! I'm trying. I'm trying…to quickly figure out what it is you need…"

"I need…I need…I don't know! I'm a mess!"

"How did this happen? Calm yourself. Tell me."

"Erica…Erica came over she…she said she wanted to talk…"

"Talk?"

I shake my head, stressing, I take a drag of my cigarette.

"We…we were dating. She left me, because I told her what I was. And she came…she came here to talk, and it made me so angry. I couldn't…stop it I just…lost it."

"And then, after that, what happened?"

"I left. I left and I went looking for you. I couldn't find you right away, but I saw Dizzy…"

"You saw Dizzy?"

"Yeah, on the cliff, over there…and…I was looking at her, and then someone bumped into me, and I lost control."

I lift my head to see his eyes. He takes a deep breath in, and folds his arms. Shaking his head, he seems to…know something.

"...I want you to know, that I do love you as my own son. That I have never thought…this would happen, and I am sorry. Had I been aware, rather than in denial, perhaps I could have taken the steps to prevent it."

"Dad?"

"You…expressed your concerns to me last night, and I brushed them off. For that, I am sorry. I learned a long time ago, from your mother, that you need to take responsibility for the harm you cause others. No matter, if it's indirect."

"…What are you talking about, dad? What's wrong with me?"

"…Nothing is wrong with you. Your mother was right. It's simply time for you to go."

"Go?"

He sits down across from me. I'm not making heads or tails of any of this.

"Out into the Capital Wasteland. Out, to find your purpose. Your outburst today, will be one of many if you do not find your outlet."

"Outlet?"

Nodding his head, my father lights his own cigarette.

"Without direction, without purpose…a creation like you will only react violently. As was wanted, by those who created you. I had thought this, and given you the task of watching over Dizzy. I'm sorry I was mistaken, in thinking that was enough."

I understand now, what he means. I was created to obey, and to fight without any question or objection. Now that I'm older, now that emotions are triggering it, I'm starting to act out without that direction.

"…You weren't wrong, dad. Maybe…I just need to go out there, and get…get this aggression out. You're right, that I need to leave. But I don't want to leave Dizzy behind. I still want to protect her, dad."

"Then perhaps I wasn't fully mistaken. Maybe under the right circumstances, you will find an outlet, and be able to release this anger appropriately."

"Did you…did you ever feel this way?"

"Yes. Many times. Yet each time I did, was because someone had harmed my employer."

"Mom?"

"Precisely."

Leaning back in my chair, I feel calmer now. At ease, that my father is caring, and I can see that. I can see he's taking the time, and that he's genuinely worried about my well-being. I hope one day, he won't have to worry.

"…So…so your purpose? Your outlet?"

"Was your mother. I felt peace, in knowing she was safe. It calmed me, despite the newfound emotions I was feeling at the time. Yours, perhaps, will be similar."

"I just…I just don't want to feel like I'm not a person, because of how I was created."

"Like I said last night, despite how it was given, it is still a life, Cain."