I wanted nothing more than to follow Blake, off the ship and out into the wastes. He's the first person I met, the first person to cause me pain. Then again… was it really painful or did it just seem that way because I was scared? Was the fear irrational? I took a breath and found myself on the flight deck where I ran from Blake. The same spot overlooking the city. Was it really that bad? Sure I was left alone for some time, mocked and tormented. Could that mean I like being hurt? I didn't seem to mind when Butch and I would tussle. But it was play and nothing else.

But he let me live. He blew into the Vault like a demon, killed the others but he let me live. Blake brought me out of that hole, introduced me to life above ground and he let me live.

Perhaps I would. Perhaps, I would just spend the next few days gathering supplies for an extended journey and hit the road. Leave everything behind unless I need it. I knew if I stayed I'd eventually crack and hurt myself. I found myself too close to the highest ledge of the ship on a few occasions, something or someone pulling me back from my mindless long walks. So this was it. I stormed to my room, packed what I could and went to the market. I used what I saved to buy ammo and stims, oddly enough I got a rather hefty discount. The items were free but I still left my caps on the stall counters anyway.

I didn't even say goodbye to Butch, I just walked out the door. Surprisingly, no one stopped me. I figured if Blake went through all this trouble to make me comfortable he'd have people to keep me from leaving. But no, I just walked out and off the ship to shore. After four months of waiting, I was glad to finally be leaving. I wondered, if Blake came back and found him missing, would he sink the ship. I laughed at the thought, and could almost imagine it too.

After walking for a few days I realized I didn't really know where to start. I laughed at the irony, staying on the boat and being safe, or wandering around God's earth that man destroyed. No training, no abilities to protect myself, just a bag of random stuff. I brought up my pip-boy. Only a few Gary's had them, I was lucky enough to get one. A few broadcasts were on the radio, four of real interest. The closest was at the coast, some boatman promising adventure in a place called Point Lookout.

It was a helpful lead, although it was no man who captained the ferry but a young woman with a shitty attitude. A woman, I presumed to be the girl's mother, stood close by and apologized profusely for her daughter's behavior. I chalked it up as a loss and moved on. By the third day I noticed how tired my feet were. I walked all the time on the ship's metal floors, that should be worse than this, right? Wrong , having to out-run and out maneuver shit that crawled all over the place was worse.

Anytime I came close to water, a giant fucking crab would charge out at me. Near some rubble, it was a toss up of radscorpions, molerats, or radroaches. Any small structures, low and behold, raiders. It was a wandering nightmare. The second signal I traveled to left me disturbed and disgusted at the amount of decaying dead. Men in large suits of armor and even larger greenish-yellow hulk of men lay scattered about. The smell lurched the contents of my stomach back out from whence they came and bye-bye Salisbury steak. The rooms were empty, save the body and then one caught his eye. I saw the large white '108' print on the back of blue and almost cried. His body in decay with the rest of his left arm missing.

I vaguely remembered when Gary left, not very many of them did. I didn't know why I stayed for a moment, just to stare at him, regret maybe. I sighed and closed the door he lay in and left. There was nothing for me but to get out without puking anymore. All these messages were on a loop and I wondered if any of them held any real information. I would keep searching, ignore the two and go to the third.

After the grueling and long journey I finally reached the third. There was nothing there, save a small crater with a round metal object in it. Whatever it was crashed here leaving a large and long scar in the earth. The signal began to break up, falter and disappear while I surveyed the apparent crash. I bit my lip, looked at my pip-boy, and looked into the direction of the last signal.

More bodies, more death, no Wherner. I had to wonder if one of those bodies happened to be Wherner but I'd never know for sure. And that was it, the last of the radio signals. I sat in, literal, quiet contemplation. The spot under the tall metal tower was a good spot to look out over the wasteland. It was quiet up here, the wind blew, the metal creaked from the sway, something exploding in the distance. 'Something exploding in the distance!' I shouldered my bag, keeping my eyes on the spot I saw, the red ball of flame and smoke appeared and I ran like a man possessed.

I almost tripped about fifteen times before reaching the bottom of the hill but damned if I was going to let an opportunity pass by. For all I knew it could be Blake. I figured Blake was prone to making everything he touched explode, so it was hope. I ignored my aching muscles, the painful ache in my spine and ran. Ran right into a fight between Super Mutants and some men in black armor. One of them turned their attention to me and ran at me with a large split piece of wood.

I stumbled back, falling onto my ass, using my hands and feet to claw my way backwards. One of the men in armor walked steadily towards the mutant firing a large and loud pistol at the beastly used-to-be man drawing it's attention away. The men yelled, the mutants yelled, bullets and lazers flew back and forth, the humans winning the fight. The man that gained the attention of the mutant, began backing away steadily the confidence in himself was hard to miss and right before the mutant got to him, his gun jammed. He yelled out a string of curses tossing the weapon to the side. Reaching to his back he pulls out a short metal rod, giving it a sturdy swing, forcing the rest of it to extend.

I sat stunned at first, then I jumped. I didn't know what possessed me to do what I did but I grabbed a pistol from my bag and began to fire it. My aim was shit at first, missing and also jumping from the noise and the recoil but I tired. Turns out I was a quick learner, it seemed and my aim improved after the first three shots. Each next shot hitting the brute in the back between the shoulder blades.

The monster got a lucky hit on the man catching him in the thigh, the result of the hit was a yell in pain and the man dropped to one knee. The hit caused his muscle to tighten, then go numb and his free hand was on it instantly. I kept firing and just before the mutant could bring that slab of wood back down it froze and fell. I let go of the breath I had been holding and stayed where I was sitting. The group of men picked up their discarded gear and looted what they deemed useful from the mutants.

The man that was hit recovered quickly, the group laughing about how lucky that was and like a neon sign was held over my head, they all looked at me. The first one to speak to me was the man I helped. "Thanks, kid." He was definitely older than me. Older than Blake, older than Harkness, but not old enough to have graying hair. He had dark brown hair and silver eyes, scars a plenty and a kind smile. He scratched his chin through his thick beard before stepping over and offering a hand to me.

Without hesitation I took the outstretched hand, being pulled to my feet. I nodded, unable to say you're welcome, I didn't want to try and wind up looking dumb as shit. "Some decent skill, have you ever shot a gun before?" I shook my head, "Don't say much, do ya'?" again I shook my head. The man turned to the others, seeming he was in charge because the others lined up waiting for orders, "What ya think boys? Think we can turn him into a real Talon?" The others smirked, they hooted and hollered in confirmation. "So Vaultie, ready to change? It aint gonna be easy but I think you got what it takes." He nodded at his own words, liking what he said.

I stood there stunned. 'What is a Talon?' swallowed dryly, and looked concerned but in the end nodded "Yes" I said earning even more hoots and hollers. I reached down for my bag tossing the gun back into it and zipping it closed.

"Got a name kid?" The man asked me as they turned and began to walk, the others and myself in tow.

"Gary"

~-,-~

Over the course of the next six months I find myself with a group of mercenaries. Black armor, a different array of weaponry,and a lot of bad attitudes. They gave me hell, constantly found some kind of humor in the fact that I didn't speak. After joining, myself and a few others travel around and harass wastelanders. Even killing some for no reason other than they looked at our leader wrong. After a month or so I stop letting it bother me. The only thing that bothered me is the fact that we have orders from someone, somewhere, to find and kill Blake.

I had no idea what I would do if we came against him. Would I be able to shoot them in the back given the chance? Probably. Would I be able to say fuck it all and open fire at Blake for the sake of a few caps? The jury is still out on that. But for the most part, we scoured the ruins of the city. Took out hordes of Super Mutants and anything else that got in our way of hunting down bounties.

I found a liking to the combat shotgun, I didn't have to have particularly good aim with it. Plus it held a lot of rounds at one time. The more I used it the better I got, the others began calling me "The Surgeon." I had no idea what that even referred to but it was a nifty nickname.

Then I started to think I wasn't the age I originally thought I was, because I was growing more everyday. I stopped looking like a boy and even began growing a beard at one point. That was a royal pain in the ass, I had to learn to shave by watching some of the others without letting on.

Last thing I needed was for them to find that to harass me about too.

The scar on my cheek faded and became faint and hard to notice, But I look more like the other clones now. I became taller, my lanky arms and legs filled out into more defined muscle, even my face seemed to change a bit. My jaw was more squared, and the lines on my face deepened. That was due to the constant hell I got, and it became so much a habit, I would frown in my sleep.

~-,-~

After two years of this I seemed to forget who I was. Where I was from, I even forgot what Blake looked like. I couldn't remember his face. Although I would know it if he appeared. I just couldn't recall his features anymore. And after these long hard years. I didn't even know who Blake was to me anymore.

As long as I have survived, a miracle no less, I did earn some respect and a few new scars. No one expected me to outlive half of the groups they put me on. The only hell I received became playful banter. But I became comfortable with them and dished it right back in whatever ways I could. The problem with my lack of talking soon became old news and they just came to accept it. I got to the point I didn't care about trying anymore.

The new words, the sentences, even the words I have learned to say. I just gave up trying. They were one less thing to worry about.

It was rather funny. I didn't think I looked that bad but apparently the wasteland is rough on the body. Anyone new that joined us seemed to stay away from me as if I would eat them alive. I guess no one wants to get next to the silent as the grave scared up man.

I did my job and that was it. I don't want friends, I just want something to do all the time. I became addicted to my work, and ran my small groups ragged as they tried to keep up.

I don't even know how many I got killed because of exhaustion, them, not me. I felt fine going without breaks and sleep. But soon found they seem too terrified to join my squad, because I always come back alone. With a bounty filled… but alone.