(AN: Whoee this story was initially published back in August 2017. Been a long time init? My spin and alternative take on the Fallout 4 story. All characters, names etc. belong to our savior himself Todd Howard. Can't believe I decided to revisit it and republish it with a couple of twists and turns, though I doubt any of my 20+ original followers I had are still active or will even recognize this winged fic lmao. Also obvious reference to an incredibly underrated game in the title. You will have surely noticed.)
Homo Faber is the concept, that we're able to able to control our fate and the environment as a result of the use of tools, engineering and science. Perhaps one can only unlearn such concept by being thrusted into a world where it doesn't rationally apply anymore.
Tuesday, October 26th 2077
7:00 pm - Drinks with Fox Company Go 108th!
(Probability of us getting drunk and singing "The Snows of Anchorage" 5 times - 110%)
Nora said she was always proud of me for participating in the Anchorage and China campaigns. Was the cost really worth it? No. It wasn't.
Today was the day that Nathaniel Howard, a retired combat engineer was supposed to deliver his speech, the one he spent so much time meticulously crafting in a war time America, which desperately needed good news on the Homefront.
This wasn't how he imagined his life going. Firstly he didn't expect his house to get nuked, which was in retrospect an overly optimistic assumption considering the fragile state of the world back then. He also expected Vault - Tec to offer quality Fallout shelters. Not freeze everybody and kill them in a sick experiment.
"... You see, Vault - Tec is the foremost builder of the state-of-art underground Fallout shelters!"
My ass
Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, he didn't expect to be a broken widower. Nora and Shaun. They were his life. His purpose. The first time he held his child, it made all the death and suffering found in the terrible war he fought worth. But that was short lived…
"This is the one"
"At least we still have the backup"
Those words echoed in his head over and over again. The image of the man who had murdered his wife and abducted his baby son burned into his tearful eyes. The bullet had severed her brachial artery, dying of blood loss shortly after. His beautiful fucking wife was murdered in front of his very own eyes and he couldn't do anything.
He could've just dropped there and expired, but that wasn't how a man was supposed to act. Now, he was a man on a mission, the image of the man who ruined his life imprinted in his eyes forever.
Bald, with a scar and soon with a bullet between his eyes.
The crackling of the makeshift campfire Nate had hastefully erected under a bridge interrupted his thoughts. Nights were dark in the Commonwealth, it was best to make a fire and get some rest before night set. Avoiding any 'unwanted' attention was key in moving through this alien and hostile new world he found himself in.
The weary man scratched his stubble and checked his pip boy. An interesting contraption, it represented the pinnacle in personal computing, and packed an incredible punch for its size and weight. Nate was fascinated by how quickly computing power advanced in the decades leading up to the great war. After graduating from CIT however, his country had other plans for him and commissioned him as a second lieutenant.
War is a bloody affair where old men who know each other very well send young men who don't know each other at all to die.
He could thank his winterized combat armor for keeping him alive. Keeping the set of armor thanks to Nora, her family connections to the BADTFL facilitated the task of keeping such a commodity. Owning such equipment meant a massive leg up in any firefight. But perhaps what was even more important, was the black bodysuit he wore underneath.
Thermal and heat regulating, the Commonwealth was cold as it was October and it would only keep getting colder, it protected Nate from what no armor could ever shield:
The freezing cold temperature that Nate was so accustomed to after fighting in the rocky mountains of Anchorage at a life threatening negative degrees Celsius.
Alongside that, he also kept the medals he earned, the medals which at one point meant pride to Nathan, the medals his country bestowed upon him for his heroic service, his sacrifice and the medals which turned him into a decorated war hero. Now it only reinforced the catastrophically changed man he was after returning from the war, shattered by what he had to see, endure and do.
Taking the last sip from his canteen, he eyed the marked location on his pip boy. According to descriptions given to him, 'DIAMOND CITY' was nothing more than Fenway park.
That was his next goal, and he had to reach it before nightfall or risk getting caught in the dark of the Commonwealth, a prospect he certainly wasn't too open to.
Nate turned to his left.
Next to him lay man's best friend. Nate's only companion up until now, a German shepherd he encountered almost immediately after exiting the Vault, if he disregarded Codsworth, the mutated animals he had to kill and the sorry group he found near the museum of freedom…
...
"Sir I suggest you go to Concord, perhaps the locals can help you?" The mister handy robot, which surprisingly managed to withstand a nuclear fucking fallout suggested.
A solemn reunion of two broken individuals. Codsworth featured advanced and rich programming in the form of incredibly sophisticated subroutines. Yet none of that prepares you for attempting to get wiped off the surface of the earth.
The holotape Codsworth gave him was the only real piece of Nora and Shaun left.
Locals?
"What kind of Locals are you talking about?" Nate quizzically asked. There must've been more survivors, humanity somehow always finds a way to prevail.
"Oh the few times I've been there, they only pummeled me with sticks and tried to shoot me" In a fucked up world like this, Nate could easily put two and two together, meaning that there would always be someone willing to kill someone else over a can of meat.
Of course, with surviving a nuclear fallout, comes a mental breakdown. That was included in Nate's care package after waking up. Utter denial was the only pathetic thing he could muster after his butler robot delivered the crippling news: the biggest shock was figuring out he was 210+ years in the future, where the new currency was bottle caps. He might as well have used paper cash to wipe his ass from how valueless it was.
The newly minted sole survivor of (the ill fated) Vault one - eleven!
With Codsworth's suggestion being the only lead Nate had, he decided to make his way to Concord. Along the way he passed along the Red Rocket he and Nora had visited so many times when late night snacks weren't available.
"Awww… what're you doing out here all alone?" Nate petted the German shepherd who approached him. Initially weary, Nate figured he wasn't feral and as his combat experience had proven, man's best friend was an incredibly valuable addition, both in and out of combat. "Well, you can tag along with Lieutenant Nate Howard if you feel like it!" Nate enthusiastically said as the dog jumped in circles, waving his tail in excitement.
With his new canine friend, he hiked a bit more until the sound of gunfire caught him entering the town.
"Shit, we got company…" Nate mumbled as he slid a fresh 20 round magazine into his rifle. Not the rifle he had used in the war, rather one passed from generation to generation; the M16A1 was legendary amongst the rank and file for its iconic design.
Apparently there was a group of raiders laying siege to the former Museum of Freedom. With their backs turned, they were easy target practice for a hardened veteran like Nathan. The feeling of holding a heavy rifle, the recoil and force produced when controlling a fully automatic weapon felt weird, strangely unfamiliar.
Without much hesitation, Dogmeat immediately pinned one of the raiders making him easy picking for Nate. After realizing that they were being shot in the back, several raiders charged him.
"You gon' pay for what ye did!" A female Raider shouted while charging him with what looked like a pipe. The swing missed, her brains being splattered over the road leading up to the museum. The last of the group quickly fell when a man wearing a colonial uniform evaporated them with a laser musket.
"Hey up here! Get into the museum and lend us a hand, please!" He pleaded from the balcony. It was more of a plea, the desperation evident in his voice.
Storming the museum, there was more gunfire as several stragglers had made it inside. They were nice and distracted, allowing Nate to take down a couple of them without them realizing. To his surprise, the museum was still intact, featuring historical uniforms, weaponry and anti communist propaganda.
Reaching the top floor where the survivors were trapped, Nate quickly dispatched the last raider by blasting him through the chest, causing him to lose balance and fall three stories down into the basement, just as Dogmeat caught up.
"Ho-ly shit!" The man he had just saved impressively said as he flinged his laser musket back on his shoulder. It looked like he was wearing a colonial duster alongside a Minuteman hat. "Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen" He proudly stated while extending his right hand out for a handshake.
"Uh, Nate Howard. Pleasure to meet you?" Nate replied, walking into the room. "So you're a soldier of some sorts?" He questioned, genuinely curious if there was any semblance of a military force remaining.
"I guess you could say so, I'm with the Minutemen. We were a militia, until a massacre left us all dead… except me. I lead this group - " He gestured to the people in the room. " - of settlers out of Quincy". He declared while taking a seat on a patty couch and resting his rifle on his lap.
Nate took a look around the room. Poor fucking souls.
"We got no time to waste, for all we know more raiders could've heard the shots and be on their way here. Sturges, hook him up!"
A man wearing a technician outfit turned around from his terminal and briefed their newly met savior on retrieving a fusion core from the basement in order to power up some abandoned power armor on the roof, that and a minigun only usable when you had the strength of a power armor wearing brute.
"We're currently trying to make our way to Sanctuary, figuring it is up north, safe and well isolated. First we ran into the ghouls in lexington, and now this, please you need to help us" A young man wearing a white shirt spoke up, while the rest of the group hopefully looked into Nathan's brown eyes.
What even was a ghoul? Probably some sort of irradiated creature, no doubt about it, a nuclear war must've created zombie like creatures.
Nate retrieved the fusion core and headed up the roof to power up the power armor. The make and model was a rusty old T - 45. The earliest version, primitive in design, but it got the initial job done. Personally, he never was a fan of them. Maintaining them was time consuming, but being in one was even worse. The fusion core in the back meant you were a giant slow moving target for snipers. As Nate popped the fusion core in and entered the armor, it's system booted up.
'INITIALIZING SYSTEM DIAGNOSTICS.
HYDRAULICS. CHECK.
ELECTRONICS CHECK.
ASSESSING DAMAGE,
DAMAGE ASSESSED:
RIGHT HAND AND LEFT LEG.
FUEL LEVEL:
LOW'
The suit's lid closed automatically as Nate ripped the Minigun from the downed vertibird. Jumping from the roof to the street was child's play as power armor shielded you from nearly any type of fall damage.
"More of them are on their way!" Preston shouted while emerging from the balcony, cranking two shots into his musket.
Out of the blue, raiders started appearing. They weren't very wise in trying to charge down a power armor, minigun-wielding pre - war soldier fueled by rage and anger, as Nate easily filled them with a hail of bullets.
Just as he thought he was done, a mutated lizard looking creature jumped out of the sewers. It'd be the type of shit one would expect to see in a typical 70's horror movie. Big, ugly, huge legs, claws on his fucking arms and enourmous horns portruding from his head.
"SHIT!" The Vault Dweller screeched as the deathclaw picked up an old corvega model car, throwing it in his direction. The ferocious beast tried grabbing another vehicle before Nate turned from a ruined house, firing at the car causing a massive explosion which sent its guts flying in all directions. Part of it even smeared his visors.
"Ho-ho! That was one hell of a show!" Preston satisfyingly shouted from the balcony as Nate walked back.
"What the fuck was that!" Nate shouted once he entered the museum and exited the armor, where the group had gathered on the lower floor.
"That was a deathclaw. Mutated abominations found within the wasteland. You run into one of these, and your journey is over. Although you did get creative taking that thing down. Their skin is nearly impenetrable to any sort of small arms fire." The Minuteman complimented.
"So" Preston said while pulling off his dirty, combat worn gloves. "What is your story?".
Nate was reluctant to tell the life changing events he faced in the last 24 hours to a complete stranger. But he seemed trustworthy, genuine and legitimate. A trait that was probably too rare at all to find in the Wasteland. Paired with the good ideals of a revolutionary man, Nate figured he could open. Maybe he was naive, maybe he was desperate, but this was the first human being, who didn't want to shoot him at least, he had met outside the wasteland.
"I… I-I was frozen in the local Vault, in the year 2077. Some guy came into the Vault, shot my wife and abducted my child."
The group of survivors stayed silent. "That is… messed up." Garvey managed to reply, visibly showing concern and empathy as he removed his hat and pressed it against his chest. "We should head to Sanctuary then" he turned to his group of ragtag survivors.
Suddenly, the eldest member of the group stood up and, like a prophecy declared "Kid… I saw you in the Vision. Dogmeat, " She gestured to the mutt. "I knew he would bring us the savior of the 'Wealth'
Woah there, getting ahead of us a bit aren't we?
"I sense your son, " she continued. "He's alive".
"What?! Please, I need anything, any lead, a glimmer of hope…" Nate desperately said as his voice started to break.
"Diamond City has your answers kid. But they're locked up tight. The Vision can only last that long, until you bring me more chems, I'm afraid I wont-"
"Enough! Mama Murphy, I told you to lay off those Chems!" Preston distraughtly replied. Scolding the elderly woman for her use of what Nate believed to be drugs.
Turning back to the Vault Dweller, Preston gave a couple of directions to what he called the 'Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth'.
"It's a hike to the south, I believe it is inside some sort of stadium, fortified with big green walls."
Fenway park
The sight of Nate and Nora's first date. Boston Red Socks would take victory after victory. And now? His baseball stadium had apparently been turned into some sort of improvised shantytown of a city.
"Alright... Thanks Preston. I wish you and your group luck. You're a good man, I can tell that." As Preston and his group of survivors left the museum, Nate opted for leaving the power armor behind; the suit's modular parts were damaged beyond repair and the fusion core nearly drained, making it useless to walk around in that, he'd just paint himself a huge target.
Nate reflected on the Minuteman, he met. There were more of them before the massacre Garvey briefly spoke about. He was certain, once shit hit the fan like a nuclear war, people would form their own groups and adhere to heroes of the past, seeking to imitate them as close as possible, which is probably how the Minutemen or their ideals were reborn.
Preston would've asked if Nate was interested in heading up to Sanctuary with him, an offer to rebuild the Minutemen. His pride. Evidently if the poor parent wasn't in such a rush, he would've. There were a lot of things he didn't know about this mysterious man who has such a tragic backstory. But one thing was certain, he was the deadliest motherfucker he had ever met.
"Alright buddy, I think it's about time we get going" Nate extinguished the campfire, got up, gathered his equipment and patted an excited Dogmeat on the head. According to his pip boy, the city was still a good two hour or so walk away, and with the night setting in, keeping his head in the game and reaching the city beforehand was critical.
(AN: Alright, that's all for the first chapter. No more PG13 fallout be warned, the game was far too lenient on a series of topics, which is understandable for a game. But not for the immersion I'm looking for in writing. I've tried to be as 'realistic' as possible with the time it takes to walk to X place. The sole survivor is named after his default names, his appearance and age are ambiguous but in my interpretation, he is a younger version of default Nate, somewhere around 25 years old if that makes sense. Updates sporadic because of university and life.)