"Open up baby boy!"

"Open the door!"

"Come on out little baby boy! We'll get you no matter what, best make it easy!"

I can't stop shaking, despite being soaked in sweat. Frantically, my frigid and clammy hands rifle through the medical container, desperately hunting for a stimpack. I feel a needle poke at my fingers, but the pain doesn't even register. I grab the needle and yank it from the box, slamming it roughly down beside me.

All the while, my eyes stay glued to the terminal in front of me. Walls of meaningless green characters scroll away, at an infuriatingly slow pace. With both hands free, I begin to type away at the terminal.

I remember seeing these in the vault. Amata showed me how to hack into a Vault Tech computer before, although the one she'd shown me had been more complex than this one. Surely this couldn't be too difficult?

"OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR BABY BOY!" the scream is followed by a shotgun blast, sending splinters of the door flying all around me, pinging off the metal shelves I had formed into a makeshift barricade.

The shot is followed by more screaming, threats of what the raiders will do to me once I'm their 'baby boy' and curses. Yet no more gunshots sound off. The raiders must be running low on ammo.

Good for me, until backup arrives.

Finally, I hack in. It was a simple, four digit code I had to pull from one of the mind numbing walls of text. Like Amata said, just find the back door. Every terminal has one. Yet I have no time to relax and enjoy my brief moment of triumph. I hear the raider hurl herself at the door, over and over. And I swear I can hear more footsteps in the background.

But my eyes are locked onto three words. The only three words that I hope and pray will save my life, save me from becoming another corpse hanging by meat hooks from the ceiling of this godforsaken place. I ignore all the other options, and my adrenaline is racing so much I don't even know what they say. Instead, I highlight the three words I've been hoping for.

Activate Security Protocol.

I hit the enter key, and hold my breath.

Nothing happens.

Fuck.

The raider desperately hurls herself against the barricade, I can hear it begin to shake and rattle as the two hundred year old rusty shelves begin to fall apart.

I have no time to stop. I wrench myself from the terminal monitor and lift the stimpack up. It seems I bent the needle slightly, but everything looks like it's still all there. Now I just have to find the right vein to inject it into.

The brachial artery, that's what dad had said. Always inject the stim into the brachial. The femoral, in the thigh, is the ideal. But in a pinch, the arm will do just fine. This I remember clearly, but I find myself shaking so much it's difficult to locate the artery in my left arm.

Why cant' I do anything right? Why can't I just find the artery? How many times had I worked with dad, helping him and Jonas around the clinic. Why couldn't I have paid more attention to his work, instead of daydreaming about playing ball and flirting with Amata?

Wait.

I remember dad saying that if you can't find a vein, apply a tourniquet. Something makeshift like a belt will suffice in a pinch, so long as it isn't applied too long. Doing that will make the veins bulge. Dad had to use one on Gomez before, I think. Yes, I remember now!

"You kidding me, you can't bust through this?" this time I hear a make voice snarl, "I'll get the little shit myself. How did he kill so many of you anyways? Soft."

"Boss, we-"

"Soft. Too soft. This whole gang is. Once we kill the skin, we'll toss his skinned corpse out to those self righteous bomb worshipping mongrels living in that scrap heap up north. Teach them a lesson."

The pounding on the door grows more fierce. I can tell my barricade is about to collapse. The thudding and rattling of the shelves grows so loud, it drones out the pounding in my head.

No time for a tourniquet. But I think I see where to inject the needle of my stim. I just go for it and plunge the stim into the artery, in the middle of my upper left bicep, then press the plunger down, injecting myself.

I feel no different.

A bullet rips through the door, shooting the handle clean off. I panic and turn around to face the monitor one last time. But it says something different from before.

BOOTING SECURITY PROTOCOL. 99%.

Against all odds, the protectron in the corner of the room was coming online. I had a shot at salvation. But I still can't waste any time.

I toss the spent stim to the side, sending it clattering against a crate of empty Nuka Cola bottles that litter this back room. The shakes have begun to die down, I notice, and my heart is thumping quite so badly. I feel a little warm inside now, and my pain begins to dull just slightly. Looks like the stim is working.

I breath in, then out slowly, combing the sweaty hair out of my eyes as I pick my pistol up and aim it towards the door. I don't know how long the protectron is going to take to turn on, but I know I have to at least try and hold out as long as I can.

"Got it!" the male raider shouts, as he bursts through the door.

He's one of the men I had shot before. I'd only hit him in the arm, it seems. He wields a revolver, and his eyes scan the room in a frenzy, until they lock on me. I can tell just by looking into those dilated eyes that he's on some kind of drug. His lips curl back into a rancid smile, until the eyes drift to something just over my left shoulder.

"Kill him already!" the woman barges into the room, shoving past her comrade before coming to a dead halt, drug addled eyes widening in shock, "No, no way-"

"Engaging hostiles," a metallic voice rings out behind me.

Red blasts of energy, the likes of which I've never seen, strike the raiders, gunning them both down within less than a second. The stench of burned flesh and ozone fills the room. I turn to stare at the hulking, metallic shell of my savior, which lurches forwards in an awkward, unnatural gate.

"Stand aside citizen," the disjointed words come from some speaker within the protecton, "shoplifters have been dealt with. Resuming patrol."

The protectron lumbers past me, each footstep falling heavy upon the concrete floors, until it leaves the back storage room. By some stroke of incredible luck, it seems I've been saved.

I stand up straight, wrinkling my nose at that horrible, burned smell that lingers in the air. I had no idea what would happen when I activated security protocols. And I had no idea weapons such as this existed.

Thank God it's on my side. And that I'm safe, at least for now.

My head feels more clear now, and my vision feels sharper than before. This must be another effect of the stim, which means it's actually working. I no longer feel any pain either.

Now that I have some breathing room, I can talk a moment to check out my surroundings. There's plenty here I couldn't possibly have noticed. Especially medical supplies I hadn't seen before. It seems there are two medical boxes, and as I pry open each one, my eyes are met with half a dozen more stims, and plenty of chems like Med-X and Buffout as well. I wonder if the raiders had stored all of this here, or if they simply hadn't realized they had a treasure trove of painkillers laying in wait just beneath their noses. Either way, I fasten box boxes shut, tucking them under my left arm as I keep a tight grip on the pistol with my right.

Using the heel on my right hand and my pistol grip, in push back the sweaty locks of heir that once again fall into my eyes. Then, I see something very strange. Amidst the crates of empty bottles, I spot a few bottles that seem to be glowing a bright purple. Cocking an eyebrow, I set the pistol down to my side and pick up one of the glowing bottles.

It's covered in dust, especially now, due to the door being practically blown into nothing but splinters now, so I clean it off. Out of some morbid curiously, I open the bottle and take a sniff. I'd seen bottles like this before, and I'd had Nuka-Cola. But this is something very different. I shrug to myself, quieting the voice of reason telling my not to ingest random foreign substances, and take a long swig from the bottle of glowing liquid.

It's warm, but it bites at the back of my throat, in the same way Nuka does, but far stronger. It's so sweet, to the point it almost hurts my tongue, but it's still refreshing, considering the amount of water I've no doubt lost from exertion. I down the bottle in practically one gulp, before tossing it back into the crate, where it strikes the rest of the bottles. Only now do I notice how quite it is, to the point that the sound of glass striking glass seems almost deafening, breaking the tranquility of this place after the bloodbath.

Despite the fact that I downed the whole bottle of soda, I don't think I'll ever try it again. It leaves an almost acid like aftertaste looming on my tongue, and the burn lingers in the back of my throat. I wonder who even made this poison in the first place?

And I really hope it doesn't kill me.

I spy another crate, this one full of more glowing bottles. I meander over to it, lifting another purple bottle up, using the light of the liquid to read the label itself.

'Nuka Cola Quantum,' the label boasts proudly, in a font far larger and more obnoxious than on a regular Nuka, 'twice the calories, twice the carbohydrates, twice the caffeine and twice the taste!'

Well, frankly it tasted about as good as the time we had to purify our own piss in science class using a Vault Tech filter, so I find this hard to believe. But there must be some market for this, so I gather as many as I can and stuff them into the boxes with the medicine.

I also grab another bottle of regular Nuka Cola, using it to rinse the aftertaste out of my mouth. The pop the cap makes when taking it off is such a satisfying sound. And the less sweet but fizzy liquid feels much better in my mouth and throat.

I set the bottle down gently this time, before picking up my pistol and leaving the room. I take care to step over the two fallen raiders, ignoring the massive burn marks now seared across their torso's, their faces twisted undoubtedly in agony from the scorching heat of the laser blasts.

Yet, I strangely feel nothing for them. I know I should feel something. And I know dad would be ashamed. But ultimately, it was down to them or me. I feel no pity for what I've done.

I want to leave this place, but I know I have to find one more thing. In fact, it's the main thing I came here for. Food and water. Aside from some Nuka Cola and Quatums, I still hadn't found any. Not that I'd had much chance to look. Giving one last glance at the storage room, filled with ruined shelves, smashed crates, shattered glass and an empty shell that once held a 200 year old protectron. And with a last sigh of relief, I know I'm never coming back to this place. I need to find food and water, and then I can go back to Megaton.