A/N: I probably should have done this right away, but I added some technical specifications (SPECIAL and looks and Karma) for this story's LW in the bottom-notes of the first chapter, and a basic summary for FO and APH at the top. I don't know why this didn't occur to me when I first uploaded.
This is my first time writing a Fallout story, so I guess it slipped my mind.
Also, on AO3, this story is part of a series called 'Pre-War Myths', but since Fanfiction net has no such system for series, I'm thinking about just bundling everything together here, and change the story's title to the series. 'Heritage' just Part 1. But I'm not sure I'll do that just yet.
It's a series right away because I have solid plans that go all the way to Nuka-World (including New Vegas too), following up with some more nebulous ideas through FO76 (that'd require some hardcore worldbuilding on my part, since Bethesda couldn't be bothered), but that last one is not certain.
I intend to use this Part 1 as setup and base for all the others, and I'll only cover the first half of FO3 in Part 1. I'll be covering the second half, New Vegas, and FO4 in following Parts for the 'Pre-War Myths' series, and I think most of them will be around 10 chapters each, although, I guess each will end up being a little longer than my usual if I want to maintain this setting.
I think this whole thing is a weird crossover to make, so I'm not very surprised that it doesn't get a lot of attention. But I believe the way to go with this sort of fic is to build an audience slowly, and try to maintain quality with a regular update schedule.
So, I'll do my best to update on Wednesdays.
03
Some Harsh News
IX
.
.
.
…Sounds…
It's the first thing he's aware of…
It's all muffled… He can hear himself, too loudly…
A heartbeat– breathing– the awareness of these natural functions brings forth the next sensation.
Warmth…
He's warm and weightless everywhere…
His mind is so muddled… it doesn't do anything with this information… It just sits there… until…
Something solid touches him– he's… on the floor…? Not on a bed, where he usually wakes up…
Again, his mind is still, he doesn't know for how long– he doesn't feel time moving…
Then…
The warmth is gone.
Sounds sharpen around him– it sounded like… metal… air pressure released… like rising above water after a dive, sounds exploding with clarity suddenly. Water is dripping around him…
…What…?
His mind staggers drunkenly, no memory comes forth, nothing happens, he's just… lying still… But where…
He breathes in, feeling a pressure around his face, and on his head, and his shoulder and side–
This wasn't a bed…
His brows crease, and his eyes blink open before he could think properly.
The world around… sounded wet, and metallic… big and empty…
He blinks a few more times, trying to decipher what he was looking at. His vision is too blurry. Finally, his mind and senses sharpen enough for him to realize.
He's on the floor…?
That discomfort was from lying on a hard surface, and from a mask on his face, and he blinks again, breathing in and moving–
His body is so heavy… moving is so hard… he doesn't feel like he wants to wake up…
But this is not his bed, he's… not where he should be… Where should he be, again…?
He blinks once more, the damp heaviness in his eyelids diminishes slightly, and he places a hand on the ground, pushing himself up on his elbows with some effort, noting the tubes– needles in his arms and chest and neck–?
All through a jumpsuit that covers his body from neck to toes, and feels uncomfortable, tight and rough– harsh and inflexible against the skin–
And his face…? Something strapped– what?
His frustration mounts at the thought, and he rips it all off one by one, breathing in cold, metallic air, the pain of the needles dull and burning.
The world clears further, and he lifts a heavy hand to rub his eyes under the hair. His skin is wet and warm– he feels so cold now…
So, so cold… and empty… and alone…?
A few more seconds of breathing– he pulls his knees a little closer, inhaling and exhaling so the world would sharpen further–
With that, he puts his weight onto his knees and sits upon them, hugging himself against the cold shivers, and looking around– his vision is blurred for a few seconds, partially obstructed by hair…
Hair…? So long…?
He brushes it aside, a few more seconds of blinking… It's dark above, and the wet floor glowed slightly…
Where…
What is this place…?
He doesn't remember how he got here…
But he's… he's still at home… He can sense that… That's comforting…
Despite that comfort, he feels… small…
He stretches his arms and back, the jumpsuit doesn't yield much, but he's immediately feeling the blood rushing forth to the tips of his fingers, so suddenly, as if it had been still until he made some effort, and his heart picks up the pace, forcing him to breathe harder to compensate.
He notices all feeling coming back, his senses are frazzled but are getting back to normal again.
Slowly… Good enough…
He's at home… but he feels the border so close to him…
Yawning, he makes an effort to stand; his vision swims momentarily, and he waits for his balance to adjust. He couldn't quite stand solidly still, though, and he swings lightly…
This is a platform… It's circular, some four or five feet in radius. Once he's stable enough, he walks off of it–
Vertigo hits him like a truck–
His feet hit the ground, and he stumbles onto his knees with a gasp, his calves burning the most– shock, he feels– why did it hurt…? He barely fell three feet…!
With an annoyed groan, he stands again, looking around him. Now a little more alert thanks to the pain and on the ground. He sees…
Eyes narrow at the scene. A fight happened here…?
He sniffs, there's a slight hint of copper in the air– drying blood?
And there's a wrecked robot not too far from him; its charred remains indicate an exploding core caused most of that… and the damage around it. It's very close to where he woke up…
How did that happen…? That'll cost so much money…
He sighs and looks further around for a source, but it's all silent around him, only the water and the metal…
And the flashing alarm lights…
What in the world…
Something glints in the watery ground, a knife…?
Grumbling, he picks it up– he feels too naked without a weapon– and turns it in his hand to exam it, also expanding his senses to situate himself better too– it flows forth like a sonar–
Wait… Something's off… He narrows his eyes at the thought.
Something's wrong…?
His senses aren't picking up much, it hits walls everywhere he aims it at– it also moves too far vertically, way above him…
Humans, he senses that.
His humans, citizens. He can tell there's a small batch of them, all around this place… A thousand and a half or so? Maybe nearly two? It's all too hazy yet. Is he–
Underground…?
He frowns, rubbing his eyes and walking, his balance not quite cooperating as he moves at an unsteady pace, looking for an exit.
He finds it, up the stairs, so he follows the path… Slowly, he pieces the puzzle together, despite his traitorous mind being so muddled and supremely uncooperative– he's underground, he was unconscious, under water…? He doesn't remember how he got there…
But why? He's…
He's at war, isn't he…? He shouldn't be in such a place…!
…He'd assume he was somehow kidnapped by Wang Yao and his filthy Commie goons… but this place feels like home… He's still in the US, surrounded by citizens… so…
He follows a long hallway, then finds an elevator, which he calls– it's right next to a broad set of stairs circling it, and he considers taking it instead…
Fear– the emotion strikes him, but not from his own mind– it's from his people… He ruffles his wet hair as the shiver runs through his body– the doors open and he walks in.
His hair is so long…? Blinking in dazed confusion, he shakes his head and focuses on the fear– clicking the top floor button.
The doors close and he stares blankly, mind starting to rush.
There's something off, something wrong in his home–
Feels like an invasion. But… Anchorage was liberated months ago, wasn't it? Just… what the hell is going on now?
He straightens his posture despite the wooziness– a few seconds are spent mulling over the chilly feeling. The doors open and he stumbles out into a dark, narrow corridor, focusing on the fear from his people.
…He has to find the threat now…
His senses are still rather faint, he can't quite tell with precision what's happening much further from him… but he can tell there are foreign bodies present, and that his people are scared…
That's all he focuses on as he walks up the short flight of stairs and out into an… office? No, no, not now. Threat.
Eliminate the threat.
He blindly follows his gut-feeling in finding a path.
He feels like he knows the way… somehow… He's never been here…? But he feels like he has– he has been here, then?
When?
On auto-pilot, with shaky balance, he navigates without thinking much– just needed to find the threat, neutralize it before it could hurt his people–
Find threat now– rest and ask questions later…
His steps quickened, letting instinct lead him to the threat– there, at the end of a corridor, close to a door– by a room where he senses scared humans hidden inside–
He's not sure where he even is. But that's not important; what mattered was this thing… Not really taller than him– animal–?– claws– seems pretty hurt… he doesn't think, his fist clenched as it turns to him– there's blood splattered on the wall close to it, a trail leading up to the door, and he scowls– it backs away and he takes longer steps to reach it–
A lizard–? Doesn't matter now– one of its claws is bloody– it's hurt one of his humans– it doesn't react fast enough to avoid the punch– his hand and arm hurt right after– and it staggers away, his reflex kicks in and he goes for its neck without thinking–
Knife digging through hard flesh and ripping it open, letting it slowly die without further intervention–
No, no time– another threat–
He doesn't stop to think or look at it– he walks past it– only registering a dropped weapon closer to the door, the room where citizens were hiding in.
He picks it up, not very weighty, it still had a shot left, and he keeps walking at a speedy, slightly wobbly pace– singleminded and focused on it– his path is a blur–
And he finds the second and final source of fear–
It's a big place he's reached – no sign of the sky behind any windows– nevermind windows at all…
He sees the thing, though, just like the last one, if not a little bigger, and it's hard to process what he's looking at, there, on the other side of this lobby– all metallic walls– he can smell blood and there's anger and fear in the air–
It's climbing up a set of stairs–
He can sense something mildly familiar in it– no, nevermind for now–
But he follows after it, feeling the weight of his weapons. Then it looks at him.
Slight curiosity makes him stop. It does seem curious too. It sniffs and approaches– he's waiting, unsure of how to react for a few seconds. It's a bit taller, and he leans back as it gets dangerously close…
It looks familiar, but he can't bring up the memory that would help him remember what it was…
It's on the tip of his tongue, but… It couldn't be… No, it wasn't supposed to be this big, was it…?
It snarls, huffing on his face–
An automatic door opens– followed by rattling gunshots that make him freeze for a second– the thing turns to the source with an angry snarl–
Citizen in danger– do something–
He clicks his tongue, following after– he kicks it away– it hurts his leg, and the thing doesn't go far or even lose its damn footing– he ignores its angry response and lifts the shotgun to give its face what seems to be the last shot in the chamber, recoil mostly dismissible–
Except the kickback makes him step back, he's shocked and unbalanced, and the thing shuffles away like a beaten dog, face bleeding– but not dead–
He feels no pity as he uses the weapon like a bat– it shatters to pieces as swings it across the lizard's face– hopefully breaking some bones.
It snarls like a rabid thing, backing away as he keeps approaching– and it swipes at him, as if trying to make him to go away– his eyes widen. He acts on reflex, ducking under the sharp-clawed swipe and then using the knife– straight into its neck just like with the other, before he drags it and tears its flesh open with some effort, stepping back from the blood.
Worked once, worked twice. He sighs as it staggers and crawls, and he stands still, waiting for it to die.
…This should be the last one…
The fear has turned into something… warmer… and frizzy. He sighs and drops the knife as the thing stops moving, then takes another step back.
He senses no more invaders… Just citizens… He can rest a little…
He feels… so exhausted already… even though he barely did anything…
Another step back and he drops to the floor leaning against something– a counter– behind, resting his eyes and almost dozing off.
So… so tired… A nap would be nice… a nap on a bed…
The high of a reflexive battle starts to dip down and down, and exhaustion settles like a heavy blanket. In the back of his muddled mind, he faintly senses his citizens moving about.
"H-Hey…"
Someone's voice whispers close, and he lifts a hand to cover a yawn, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. "Hmm…?" He squints at who spoke– citizen, parent, adult, male, hurt but recovering– then relaxes.
"Are you… are you okay…?"
He blinks, then nods. "Just tired… Thanks…"
He hears a little breathy laugh– bittersweet, if not a little acidic– "No, no… Thank YOU…! Uh, for getting rid of that thing…"
Acid is gone, it just leaves a gentle warmth… He hums. "…Gotta… keep citizens safe… It's fine…" He mutters without thinking.
Nice warmth turns hot and frizzy – it's so sudden it startles him away from sleep, immediately giving him a headache. He pulls his knees closer, rubbing his eye.
"Uhm…" The citizen's voice sounds a little clearer. "Who are– ah, where did you come from…?"
He raises an eyebrow and takes a few deep breaths. He senses more citizens around, a little closer, their emotions tickling his senses, their connection to him sharpening his world further and dragging him further away from exhaustion.
Finally able to focus a little better, he looks around, a feeling of dread sprouts from his mind as he takes note of the structure, and then the familiar blue jumpsuits.
He, himself, is also wearing something similar.
Familiar… Oh, what was it…? He feels like he should remember– why can't he find the name, the word– "From somewhere below…? Not sure where…" He ruffles his damp hair.
This citizen is staring at him so intently and wide-eyed… with that jittery buzz of a feeling– nervousness, anxiety?
"I'm… not sure where here is, though…" He finally admits to the man.
He is home… He's sure of that. But something feels… so off… He feels so… so small… Empty, a little cold– not as bad as before, but still definitely cold…
"…This is Vault 101…" The citizen says softly–
Vault.
And just like that, the memory hits him so harshly he freezes with a wisp of a gasp, eyes widening.
He's startled, the world as sharp as it should be, his mind forcefully freed from its scrambled shackles by that single damned word–
He looks around frantically before stopping. "…I-I'm… in a Vault…?" His voice trembles.
He's…
His cold dread made the citizen uncomfortable, clearly– he bites his lip, not looking at him in the eyes. "Y-Yes… You– Are you–?"
He's–
"I'm… Alfred F. Jones." He enunciates firmly and stands, clutching the counter for support before pushing to stand straight with a deep breath. "And I don't think I should be here." He hisses. "I gotta have a word with your Overseer…" He mutters through gritted teeth. He ambles past this citizen, ignoring the rather tumultuous emotions from his people, eyes on the nearest hallway instead, stepping over the blood and flesh of the thing he just killed.
Giant lizards? Wasn't his government trying to create some big, deadly chameleons to throw at Wang's Commies? There was a hint of something that's his in there, so was this it?
Why was it here?
His genetic essence is in there, even if it's just a fraction. His people made this thing with his help, once– it looks so different, though…?
How long ago was it?
His hair covers his back too… How long was he down there…?
Later, later… He'd think about that later…
For now, he ignores all the hectic feelings and emotions all around him in favor of finding his way to that office. He's sure it's where he came from, and he'd find the right person there eventually.
Alfred wanted some damn answers now.
X
That security-batch arrives, barely a minute later, worse for wear, wild-looking and terrified – they deflate in sheer relief as they find the thing dead already.
It's difficult to deny the visible shame in their postures…
They tried to fight, and then hid, because they couldn't fight the thing they encountered long enough to end it.
One swipe and one injured officer was enough to make them cower and hide in a room like everyone else, despite being armed.
Daniel didn't want to think too harshly…
It's not like they had the numbers to fight literal monsters when so few Vault-citizens joined their ranks… but fighting threats to the people of the Vault was still their job.
The fact that they had such a well-stocked armory and they still chickened out was just… a painful thing to wrangle out of them when they couldn't explain where the hell were they!
People were in danger and they just cowered?!
But no one could really focus on these shameful actions, as they reported their side of the story throughout all the berating and shaming, as a meager attempt to defend themselves from the social onslaught.
Everyone who had seen the event unfold here had proceeded to look for others hidden in the atrium below and tell everyone what had happened upstairs and with the officers.
The reaction was… generally, disbelief. Mostly focused on one thing.
The man Daniel had tended to with the supplies he brought, he had woken up with the stranger's arrival, and the first to approach said stranger, too.
He was the first to sort of mutter his theory under his breath, almost like he didn't quite want it to be heard, while at the same time having forced himself to even utter the words to share the thought.
The theory was that they had witnessed the Soul.
Shaped like a man, with a name, and who seemed unaware of his own location in Vault 101?
Wild and insane idea…
But everyone felt it, in the air, the coldness. It felt like chilling dread as this stranger was told about his current location.
That expression of summating dismay and horror–
How could this man be the Soul while unaware of it, not even recognizing them, and when he so clearly didn't like to hear about being in Vault 101? They'd always thought–
They always thought the Soul loved them all deeply.
That man did save them.
Rather brutally, and crudely, but–
Then that coldness turned to something hot – angry and determined. It made them uncomfortable with the idea.
It fed their own dread– they didn't know what was happening. Some didn't want to believe this theory because of it. The stranger just couldn't be it, but…
No one's ever seen that man in the Vault before, and anyone would remember if they had… He was… ethereal-looking… Quite chiseled physically, features so typically Anglican, and the hair was long and bright, wheat-gold, skin flawless, and eyes an impossible crystal blue–
And the power to beat two of these monsters without a scratch.
Even those who wanted to deny it, still hesitated because they couldn't deny this.
If the Soul were a man, he'd definitely look like a Greek god, right…?
And this 'stranger,' who gave them a name, who defeated two giant lizards with barely any effort, definitely fit the bill. But it was just…
Jarring…
Daniel couldn't think of a better word…
As far as people generally agreed on, the Soul was an ancient, sentient artifact of America, but no one could agree on what it looked like. To say that it was a man, with a name, who could defend himself, was certainly agreeable to the Free perspective…
And honestly, Daniel had a hard time thinking otherwise now… He couldn't unsee it, not after the idea entered his head…
As he thought of it, watching the mythical stranger leave after those chilling words, he saw Shirley helping him stand. She only berates him half-heartedly for running out, more focused on the more pressing matter like everyone else.
Shirley didn't doubt the theory one bit. She seemed to agree wholeheartedly… Daniel would go as far as to say she fell in love right away with it…
There were tears in some eyes here and there… Everyone was talking about it, only interrupting it to discuss on whether they could go to their home-floors, but that never went on for long before the whispers and mutters about 'the stranger and the theory' continued.
They had a name there. Alfred F. Jones…?
The Soul had a name…? A unique one, no one in the Vault ever heard of it.
The order of events seemed to have the right timing, as the coms' automated voice had warned of a system failure in the Chamber, where the monsters came from, and they broke something down there, injuring some officers in the process.
So… the Soul woke up as the system that kept him asleep failed, and he made his way to the threat. Did he know they were in danger…? Or did he just sense the threat and came for it?
He certainly didn't act like he had a clue as to who they even where, but Daniel couldn't help but remember how quick he was to save him, someone who's not even native to the Vault.
And he did say he was just… 'keeping citizens safe…'
And now he went off, to talk to the Overseer… About what? About why he was here? What was happening? Did the Soul even know about the state of the world outside…?
…Was it okay to still call him the Soul? Did he even recognize himself as such, by the way…?
Daniel is sure he's not the only one wondering deeply about all of these questions and many more.
The guns were taken off the hands of the shamed officers, and those newly armed citizens were separated into groups to escort everyone to their floors through the stairs right away.
Soon enough, Daniel found himself on his floor once more, closing his residence's door and peeking outside like everyone else. It's only when Daniel is alone in his apartment, looking at his abandoned dinner, that he remembers…
Dad left the Vault.
Oh…
He had somehow forgotten with all the chaos from before… He sighs and sits on the couch, mulling over what to do, and suddenly–
…Daniel had a crazy idea.
.
.
.
XI
Empty…
He felt… like there was a void so big in him, that he felt practically empty… Sickeningly so…
He had taken that wholeness he's always had for granted… because he didn't know how complete he was until he was emptied of his spirit…
…Ripped away from his home…
Now he just longs to feel it around him again – the familiar comfort of the earth, his land beneath his feet; the structures his people built; their routines, emotions, lives… all working in tandem, every hour of every day, like a continually beating heart making the blood flow – anchoring him to this world, all together through their diligent hard work, fixing and maintaining and building–
That was his home– its culture, its history, its strength– and he was its representative, in spirit, living and growing with the energy they always created through their work and lives…
So why…
…Why was he still here… if he couldn't sense any of it left in him…?
All he felt was a pittance of humans, in this small, suffocating metal-box, instead of the pulsing flow of life from the earth and its harvests and the vast networks of 500 million citizens…
…Now it's just…
So little life, compared to before. Just metal, unfeeling, static, dead–
Alfred blinks, shaking his head harshly and pulling away from the fog in his head, resuming his walk through the hallway leading to his destination.
It closed in when he got distracted with his thoughts…
…He had to be more careful…
He needed answers.
He needed to know what was going on– something was seriously off, but his body's sixth sense wasn't always so right– there had to be something he was missing…
His home had to be out there, somewhere… There had to be a reason why he couldn't reach to it– something could be blocking his range… that's all.
Alfred closes his eyes and sighs.
He was in a Vault…
Oblivious to the world outside…
…Isolated… Cutaway from home–
Argh…! Alfred slaps himself. Stop it. Control yourself, soldier! He thinks, straightening his back and clenching his teeth and fists.
He stops in front of the door to that office he came from, it's closed now, and he hears faint voices behind. He hesitates, mindlessly picking at his worn clothing material from his cuff. It seems to have prolonged acid exposure, but it only tore slightly at the seams because of it…
It was woven in thin strands, it all hugged his form, but it was still a stiff, resistant, uncomfortable fabric– especially around the neck…
Okay… he had to focus, though.
He hears the voice getting louder, and he stops to listen for a bit– "So it was Dr. Cross. It just had to be…! He's the only one who would do such a thing– no citizen of this Vault would have dared to enter the Chamber…! William's administration is in for a social lynching for this…!"
More murmurs of agreement…
The words are harsh, angry– he senses the scalding hatred and sour resentment as well, from all of the people in the room…
They're his people–
?
Alfred pursed his lips, pushing the fog away, before smoothing his expression to neutral, despite their seething outrage, then presses the button for the door to slide open.
"What's happening down there– I just can't believe this happened, the b–!" They see him, stopping dead-still.
Alfred tilts his head, eyes narrowing in judgment – which the man no doubt felt, judging by that flinch.
The hatch that led to the chamber below was now closed again.
He sighs, pushing back the fog and the emotions threatening to make him spiral as he rubs his temple, walking in. He hears steps backward and hears clattering guns onto the metallic floor–
The sound and vibration make him cringe visibly, and it reflects on the knee-jerk needling of fear hitting him.
He shouldn't have dropped that blade…
"Alright, man…" Alfred starts, giving the man a dull stare and crossing his arms again as he stands still. "Maybe you can answer some of my questions…"
The air was naturally tense.
The Vault's Overseer breathed in, not wavering too badly under his stare. "Officers. Please leave us to talk."
Said wide-eyed officers seemed to take a few seconds to process the request, and Alfred didn't look at them, ignoring the sharp pangs of fear and– awe?
Was that awe?
They picked up their dropped weapons– and Alfred watched that closely, not feeling safe while so surrounded and unarmed, nevermind their trembling hands and gulps and fear–and awe.
Once alone with the door shut, Alfred relaxes slightly. He turns sharply to the human, face stern. "Why am I in a Vault?" He skips straight to the issue. "Explain that?"
That seems to startle the man; he looks at him quizzically. "Y-You… You don't know?"
Alfred raises an eyebrow, unamused. "I wouldn't be asking if I did."
The man takes a step back. "Right…! I'm so, so sorry! The, uh– Y-You, you were put in the Vault for your own safety, d-don't you remember?"
"My safety." Alfred parroted, tapping his foot for a few seconds before stopping. "Safety from what? Nuclear war?" He knows there are whispers of it; he knows his government is getting antsy…
But…
There's no way Wang Yao will throw away his ancient-ass life just to kill him… He's losing the war, and will soon be under his authority even in mainland China, but…
Wang is not suicidal. He's sure of it.
"Not gonna happen. I don't need to be locked up!" Alfred spat, and then his tone simmers with quieter, seething anger. "Who gave Vault-Tec permission to do this?" He began to pace. "It's borderline treason, don't you think?" He couldn't help but add.
"T-Treason?!" There's a bristling shock that hits him then. "…Y-You don't know…"
"Know what." Alfred hisses. "Out with it." He knows he's causing some terrible discomfort to this citizen– but he needs to hear what's so uncomfortable to share– had to know–
"Okay, listen…" The man raises his hands to appease him, taking a cautious step back, head bowing slightly, trying so hard to not look at him in the eye– "The Vault was sealed, w-when the bombs fell– It's been 200 years." He spoke, slowly, as if trying not to spook him–
Except Alfred froze, face blank. "No, no…" Then he shook his head lightly– glancing away. "…I'd have felt that…"
"I-I'm sorry…" The sorrow is painfully genuine, but–
"No." Alfred ignores it– takes a step back– holding all emotions at bay. "I wouldn't have slept through it. So you're lying." He points accusingly with a hard stare.
He had to be.
Had to…
Playing some kind of trick on him? Unforgivable…
"I'm out." Alfred had to get out of here– he turns towards the door–
"N-No, no! I'm not– please listen– just listen…!" The man approaches too much–
Alfred pulls away, eyes wide, not wanting to be touched– the sorrow, the guilt, the honesty– it was all too real, and there was only so much he could do to ignore that– he couldn't be touched– he couldn't hold it away if it got too close–
"I-I can show you, the records! It's all recorded here, we have the data, y-you can read it– I'm not lying to you…! You're–" He stops.
It's difficult to struggle with the rising panic– the connection he feels is so closely tight, in a way it never truly was with his citizens.
Not with the veil of secrecy in between them…
It's different… when they know what he is… The connection, the link, it's deeper, stronger.
Alfred couldn't turn away the emotions that reached him, but… nothing made sense–
He hesitates and turns fully to face him, waiting. Alright… show proof then…
The Overseer breathes in relief and backs towards the desk by the window where the atrium could be seen through, to the terminal there– the Overseer kept eyeing him, as if expecting him to do something.
Alfred was very close to leaving, in fact. His hands shook; there was nothing to grasp, not even what he wore– fabric was too unyielding and close to his skin… so his arms were stiff around him, fists clenching and loosening, foot tapping because he couldn't stand completely still–
A drawer on the wall was unlocked, and the Overseer turned off the terminal, opening its side and pulling off its internal memory unit, then he goes to the drawer– glancing nervously at Alfred on the way–
"Okay…" Mr. Overseer pulls another memory unit from the drawer. "Each Overseer in this Vault used a unit in their years in office, and all of them are stored here, marked by year…" He breathes. "Y-You can check the first one, the date is there– it's all there."
It's inserted in the terminal, and Alfred narrows his eyes at him, approaching– and that makes the man step away immediately, head down in what seemed to be submission, afflicted by anxiety.
Alfred eyes him with suspicion one more time before focusing on the entries.
First one, from April 2077… What was he doing back then…? He can't quite remember…
He remembers Anchorage, in January, he's certain of that. That was months before…
Everything in those few months was blurry, and then goes blank in… August…?
It mentions the Vault's completion that month. All ready to be used… Commissioned by specific US generals, senators, and congressmen… Top of the line project, above and beyond the usual for Vault-Tec… even sapping resources that should have gone to other Vaults.
It sounded familiar… Did he help out with this project? He couldn't remember…
It mentions him, in a strangely impersonal manner, as if the Overseer didn't quite know who he was, but knew what he was… The information was given by Vault-Tec…? They referred to him as a 'soul' of sorts… The Vault was to keep him safe, in case the bombs fell…
He's… never heard of this part…
And Vault-Tec, Alfred figured they knew damn well who he was, he's dealt with them in the past, no…? What's with the euphemisms…?
September 2077… His eyes widened. AFJ admitted into the vault and put in stasis? He shook his head lightly. "…I don't remember being put here…?" He mutters.
Unease and concern and pity all needle him warmly, and he ignores it.
October 2077… Citizens start to arrive and settle inside. Not a lot of information is divulged, but the Overseer and his staff are instructed to foster American culture and patriotism inside– citizens are told they're 'guarding the nation's spirit.'
It is meant to be understood metaphorically…
Alfred needed to know– needed something– some sign– he wasn't as close to a walking corpse as his shaky hands and numbness indicated.
Despite the cold, the smallness, the emptiness– there had to be something more.
On the 23th…
His heart quickens– he can't even blink–
The last citizens are admitted inside– door is sealed shut right after–
An emergency alert…
All radio contact with the outside is lost…
…Radiation levels outside skyrocket to lethal levels…
Things are stable inside the Vault.
More entries in months after–
November 2077– silence from his government, silence from Vault-Tec.
December 2077– silence.
2078– silence.
2079– silence.
2080– silence.
Nothing is heard from the outside again. Entry after entry talking about it, reluctantly accepting it–
They were attacked, there's nothing left out there, they're on their own…
Years went by…
But still nothing from the outside…
The world is dead-silent out there…
But somehow, he's not dead.
Like the rest of the world…
…For 200 years…
Alfred stared wide-eyed– he felt so cold suddenly– not able to face the direction his thoughts were leading him to–
8 generations–
All spent asleep in a cold box underground while–
Everyone else– his whole family– his entire country– he feels panic growing– breathing erratic–
A hesitant hand on his shoulder startles him, grief and rage overtake him– he slaps it away as he stands, stepping back with a fierce scowl that makes the human back away– in fright and awe– "You expect me to just accept this and fall in line?!"
Hurt–confusion–guilt– he senses it all from the man, and Alfred hated that.
The Overseer's shoulders squared as he straightened. "We don't expect anything like this from you–"
Alfred shakes his head; teeth gritted as he backs away, wide-eyed. "I don't know you…! I don't know anything about you people! I-I don't know why I'm here–"
"We kept you alive…!" Such desperate, grasping compassion and awe– all which he ignored and pushed aside harshly.
"For WHAT?!" He shouts back– everyone's gone–
Nothing but hatred for Vault-Tec was left in his eyes– and he grasps his own collar, wishing to rid himself of these clothes and colors marking him as their propriety–
"What am I supposed to do now, huh?! If you think for a second that I'll just bend over and obey–!"
He pulls the collar harder, feeling like it was choking the life out of him–
And the shock that burns his neck and spine painfully wasn't emotional– it was literal– and he chokes on his words and backs away, clutching his neck until it stops– "What the…" Breathing ragged, his hands shaking even more– everything burns.
It's– "This suit…?!"
He pulls at the collar where the shock originated and gasps as he feels its heat.
Alfred scowls darkly and turns to the human. "What the fuck is this?!"
The human, in turn, feels shock–surprise–horror–worry– all at once and it's a gut-punch. "I-I-I don't know– I don't know…!"
"It's–" Alfred gulps and touches the collar– the confusing pieces of information start to click– he's filled with dread– "…I don't remember how Vault-Tec put me here, but they did this–" He stops and it dawns on him like bricks on his head. "A-Am I just supposed to be your slave now…?! I–"
He has no power here– he's stuck– cold–empty–small–weak– his only source of life is Vault-Tec now. Dread turns to terror, and he backs away– how's that even possible?! How–?!
The human still approaches, hands trying to appease– "I-I'm sorry– I'm so sorry– I don't want to hurt you…!" The human attempts to approach further– it's soothing– but– "I'll find a way to get this off of you…!"
Alfred backs against the wall with a frightened gasp he couldn't control– "Don't touch me!" He snarls on reflex– "I don't trust you…!"
This can't be happening–
How could this be–
It had to be some kind of nightmare–
He clutches his head, pulling his hair– a nightmare…! It had to be…!
It had to!
He feels himself slide down the wall until he's on the floor– an involuntary sob and tears blurry his vision.
…Everything he's ever done– everything he's gone through– every sacrifice– all the pain– all the battles– the wars– all that blood on his hands–
…All for nothing!
The emptiness left is so all-consuming, gnawing his mind, unearthing memories–
" …There you go, lad… You'll be living with me now."
He didn't want to remember that– he didn't want this to be real– he didn't want to live like this– with so many regrets he couldn't rectify anymore– so many mistakes he could no longer fix– so much he wished had been said and done–
It couldn't be over!
He wasn't done trying to fix things! He was so close! He could have done it–!
Alfred doesn't pay attention to the tiny world around him– he shuts it out– wanting to cut it all off so this pain could stop–!
He barely hears the shuffling, the walking around– hardly feels the emotions trying to dig themselves into his mind, demanding his attention– he ignored it.
Then, something solid touches his neck– a 'click' sound– it startles him and he backs away with scorn, grasping his collar on reflex– the shock–
Alfred blinks. There's no shock… He gingerly pulls the collar, and it doesn't retaliate with pain like before… Blinking again, he turns slowly to the human kneeling in front of him, eyeing him warily. "What…"
The suit's key…? The Overseer looks cautious, but… it feels warm… "Sorry, it… it took me a little while to find and unlock this thing…" He gestures to the key– "You were so distressed, I could barely think straight…" He relaxes.
Alfred relaxes in return, but he remains mostly wary… "What… What are you doing…?" He asks, bewildered. "You can't control me without this thing…"
Vault-Tec put him here… He'd assumed– Alfred frowns, suspicious.
The Overseer shakes his head. "We're not Vault-Tec. We got rid of them almost right at the start… It, uh… It wasn't very American to not have elections in here, so…" He shrugged awkwardly, tossing the key to Alfred.
Alfred, in turn, grasped it, and he looks down at it. Looking back up, eyebrow raising, some tentative hope fluttering– and then he's suddenly hugged.
His eyes widen, momentarily paralyzed by an awkward surprise– warm, warm sympathy and compassion, and he didn't know how to even react to it.
The man continues, hugging him close. "After we elected our first Overseer, he found what Vault-Tec was hiding and… he shared it with everyone… We found out about the… the Soul, that sleeps deep under our Vault, and that our job was… to keep it safe and alive, so we did…" He hesitates. "I-I know we're not the same as… actual citizens, born up there under the sun and the flag, but… the people of this Vault care deeply about you– everyone here just wants you to be happy and safe… I swear."
He feels his brows and shoulders relaxing instinctively. "Really…" He sighs, voice croaked, with tears in his eyes. "For 200 years…" He rested onto the man's shoulder.
The warmth, now that he let himself soak it in, felt very comforting…
His outburst of emotion left him rather exhausted…
"I'm sorry, we… we really thought this was the best course of action… We didn't know what you looked like… We didn't know you were so blind down there…"
A pat on his back and Alfred relaxes further… Asleep and blind sounds better than waking up with everything he's ever built and loved turned to dust… "I'm tired…" He must have sounded more emotionally wounded and exhausted than he even intended, because concern prickles him from the man.
"A-Are you okay? I mean– something medical or…"
"I'm fine…" He rolls his eyes. "Just tired from the fighting and shouting…" Alfred yawns, then pulls his collar, still half-expecting the shock, and then sighing in relief when it doesn't happen. "Wanna get this thing off… A shower and bed would be nice too…"
Funny… He's had enough water and sleep, and now he wants more of that…
The Overseer gasps and moves away cautiously. "Right…! I'll let you rest in the bedroom!" He stands and holds his arm.
Alfred accepts the help– too tired to let pride speak up– and allows himself be guided further into the Overseer's Office, into an adjacent living quarter behind a door in it… Oh. "…What's your name, by the way…?"
"Huh? Uhm…" The question seems to catch the man by surprise– did he expect Alfred to know that already…? "It's Michael… Snyder, 31st Elected Overseer of Vault 101."
Alfred frowns, but relents, too exhausted to feel much further after the storm of emotions before. "…Nice to meet you, boss…"
It's a nice room, not very decorated… Bedroom with a bathroom, all decently sized for such a cramped metal box…
…This metal box is his home now… He sighs in desolation, walking in.
"Wha– I-I'm not your 'boss', you know…?" Snyder, his new boss, mutters awkwardly as he shuffles in a drawer– feeling flattered–a little embarrassment–
Alfred scoffs lightly.
He's given some of the bigger sleepwear stashed in the drawers, and a towel, and with that, Alfred slouches to the bathroom.
"…The elected leader is always my boss…" He mutters before closing the door, ignoring the surprise that needles his senses in response.
Small bathroom… but everything needed was there…
Taking off this slave outfit from Vault-Tec felt… like he could breathe again. A one-piece jumpsuit that he had to practically rip from his body. The material was stiff, rough, and thick, made to withstand damage… Like they didn't want him to ever take it off.
But it was so suffocating… He hadn't even noticed how much so…
The curiosity is faint, and he turns it over, looking for… aha. The source of energy that powered it, a small disk slotted into the back of the collar.
Clever bastards… He pulls it off, ignoring the wires and holds up the glowing-blue container, sized like a poker chip. Using energy cells made from his own natural energy to power the suit's punishing shock.
No wonder it was so effective… Common electricity never hurt or paralyzed him that badly before. But Alfred doesn't have the energy to feel any more outrage over it, so he leaves it aside with a light scowl.
Maybe after some sleep, he'd have more rage to spare for their memory.
Then, the water under the shower is lukewarm… But still so, so relaxing…
And his hair is annoyingly long… It covered his back…
He'd have to cut it soon…
Drying up felt comforting, while trying to dry his longer hair was frustrating…
Putting on such soft fabric over his skin made him want to sleep right away, though…
Out in the bedroom, left alone, thankfully, he collapses on the bed, drawing the covers over himself and curling up for warmth beneath them.
…Much more comfortable… He feels himself melting on the soft surface, the last vestiges of tension leaving his body with a sigh.
But… there's still grief lingering so strongly…
…Honestly…
What is he supposed to do now…?
.
.
.
A/N: Whenever there's the need to control and manage someone with some kind of power, a shock-collar always seems to solve the issue. Funny that, I did the same in My Hero Aca fic. But there was no release from that one.
I'm not very good with fight scenes, but I try.
Here, I made the security here a bit lax and small in numbers, and I didn't think security officers who never dealt with anything besides other humans, who've been at peace for so long, would have the courage or the experience to face anything bigger than them, generally. So that's a problem for the future.
My version of 'America', Alfred F. Jones, I'll try to keep as similar to the Fallout Version of the US. It's what I think its spirit would have been like. Although, he has yet to recover before he starts acting 'normal', he won't exactly be the same he was in the past. That part of him is still in there, somewhere. It'll just take a while to see it again...
And the LW... I think we ALL do this when we're playing, no? Just kinda forget that we're supposed to be following the main quest, getting distracted by other things? Yeah. I wanted to capture that feeling of just forgetting about dad for a while.
