Disclaimer: Fallout is owned by Bethesda. All characters that have not appeared before in any Fallout works belong to me.

Blood was a lot more pungent than most people initially thought. Sure, people get small cuts and scrapes, and you can smell the tang of iron, but it's not enough to prepare anyone for the scent that comes from a near-fully exsanguinated human corpse.

"David," was the general whisper of the crowd surrounding him. There was an undercurrent, almost a riptide of horror hidden beneath the shocked whisper. "What did you do?"

Looking around, taking in the steel walls and vibrant paints that encased them for what he knew would likely be one of the last times he would do so, David replied, "What I had to. For everyone." He couldn't imagine what he looked like to them. The warm, slippery feeling of someone else's life coating nearly his entire body wasn't quite as strange as it probably should have been. Right now, it felt like it was on someone else. He was just borrowing their senses for now. They weren't his.

The residents of Vault 64 merely stared at him, incomprehension in their gaze. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. Couldn't they see why it needed to happen? Oh well, it was done.

No surprise registered when he was staring down the barrels of a multitude of guns. David recognized some of them, he had made them himself. They didn't see a lot of use. Funny that they were to be used on him now. "Come with us," said one of the men holding the guns. He almost recognized the voice. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"Okay," was all he said. Better than he was expecting, really. Silently, David got to his feet, not providing any resistance to the woman locking his hands behind his back. It was fine. What needed to be done was already finished. Why couldn't he think?

He blinked. They had stopped in front of the dreary rooms that had been repurposed for use as cells before his lifetime. Funny, he was sure that they were further away. Almost gently, he was nudged into the room. He went and sat down on the cot, staring at the wall, wondering why they bothered. There wasn't a reason for criminals anymore; they had broken through the door. That was all a criminal was good for, was breaking through the door.

Shock. That was what Alder would have called it. Numbly, he tried to remember how to break out of it, but he couldn't really think.

When two people walked in the room, his gaze didn't even turn to them. David was still busy staring at the walls, grey instead of red, wondering if they had always been so dull.

"David," the girl said, putting her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her, into her eyes, so bright and alive, familiar but for some reason completely unrecognizable. That was probably part of the shock, he thought somewhere in the back of his mind.

Then she slapped him. Hard.

"What the hell?!" he shouted, covering his cheek and curling away, his mind immediately rebooting. "What-"

"No, what the fuck, David?!" she shouted back at him. He looked back up at her, recognizing her instantly. Morgan stood over him, looking equal parts livid and terrified. "You fucking killed her!"

"What?" he asked, rubbing his cheek. The sting was starting to leave, but there would be a red handprint there for a day, at least. "What are you talking about?"

"The Overseer! You killed her, David! Took a knife and slit her throat! There was blood everywhere; you're still covered in it!"

David froze. He pulled his hand away from his cheek, the wet feeling finally registering. Staring down at his hand, stained a dark red, what he had finally done clicked in his head. "Oh, shit," he said. "I killed her. I really did it."

Alder, the boy who had come in with Morgan, smacked a hand to his face. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. I mean, I get why, a lot of us do, but you realize that there's no way you're getting out of this, right? Even if it was justified."

"I knew the consequences when I made the decision, Alder," David muttered, mind whirling now that it could. "I'll be executed, probably. No need to keep around the rulebreakers with the door finally open."

Morgan sat down heavily next to him on the cot, leaning into him. She was much smaller than him, able to curl entirely into him. "Maybe they'll use you to build. They can't just kill you. You're only seventeen."

"Not gonna matter anymore," Alder said. He was leaning on the wall across from them. "The door's open. Nothing keeping criminals in anymore, so they're just a flight risk."

David felt something hot against the side of his shirt. Looking down, he saw that it was Morgan, her tears dripping onto his shirt as the side of her face and vault suit were stained red by the blood still coating him. Off-handedly, he thought about how angry she would be later about having to wash the stickiness out of her hair, lamenting that she really should get around to cutting her hair short again. When he heard a sniffle, he flicked his gaze back over to Alder, catching him angry wiping his eyes and nose.

He closed his eyes and thought. This was a problem. There was a solution, there always was. And there was something about Alder's analysis that resonated with him.

Then it hit him.

"Nothing keeping criminals in anymore…" he muttered. He opened his eyes, a new conviction showing through them.

Alder stared back at him, raising an eyebrow. Morgan pulled slightly away from him, staring up at him with a questioning gaze. "Get rid of me," he said as an explanation. "Throw me out of the vault, use me as a, what's the word, scout. Pathfinder. I can pave the way for the vault. I mean, who knows what's out there? It'd be good to use someone expendable to get rid of obstacles."

Both of their eyes lit up. Alder flicked his long hair back, putting a hand to his chin. "That could work," he said. "You won't be among the population of the vault anymore, and you're still working towards the goal that we were all given."

"We might get to see you again," Morgan said, slowly. "When tensions have cooled, you could come see us again. Or maybe, we could come find you."

David nodded, his mind still on the fact that he would be leaving the vault. It was what they all dreamed of. They had always been secure in the idea that they would be able to come back if anything went wrong, though. His greatest dream turned bittersweet. "I'll have to survive long enough," he said, trying to figure out what he would need. If they would let him take anything.

"Oh please," Alder scoffed. "If anyone can do it, it's you. The only person with better marksman scores than you is Morgan, and no-one has anything on you in general knowledge and jury-rigging. I taught you how to make stimpaks, right?"

"You sure did," David said, a grin slowly overtaking his face. "Yeah, I can do this. I can survive. We have a radio, right?"

"We do now," Morgan muttered. "I'm still wondering who the fuck designed this vault so that the radio was on the outside. I wonder if all the other vaults have already recolonized the world?"

David grinned, standing up. There was a purpose now. Things that needed to be done. "Trailblazer David, at your service. Here to rediscover the world for you."

"Hold on, wait," Alder said, snapping his fingers. "That could work. If we convince whoever gets appointed as Overseer that you could be an expendable pathfinder – oh don't give me that look, you know what I'm saying – they might actually send you out."

Clapping his hands together, David was forcefully reminded that he was still covered in blood. He grimaced, saying, "Alright, we have our course of action. Can you also convince them to let me take a shower or something? This really isn't sanitary. Or pleasant."

They did end up letting him shower, with two guards in the room. David didn't really care; he wasn't all too shy. They both stared forwards anyways.

After his shower, they sent him back to his room with a clean vaultsuit, but still didn't give back his pip-boy. He wasn't really sure what they thought he would do with it. Play some games, maybe? That would be nice. His mind was far too restless at normal times, allowing him to jump from subject to subject at near baffling speeds, and this situation was far from normal, leaving his mind much more restless than normal.

It was at the point that David thought his head would explode if he stared at the walls any longer that someone new walked in. His gaze flicked over to the newcomer, and he groaned mentally. Out of all the candidates, did they really have to pick him?

"David," said the Overseer. "It's time to talk."

"So it is, Joseph," David said, turning over to him. "But first, I have to ask, didn't anyone talk about this?"

Joseph glared back when David motioned to him. "Unlike your savagery, yes, a consensus was reached, and that consensus resulted in me becoming Overseer. I didn't stage a coup, if that was what you're asking. If that's what you had intended on."

"I had my reasons and you know them," growled David, standing up to tower over him. "You'd probably agree with them if you weren't just a fucking sheep."

"Oh, don't turn this on me, you bastard," Joseph snarled back, sticking a finger in his face. "I'm not the one who just committed matricide."

"No, of course not. Matricide is for people who actual have original thoughts bouncing around in their skulls." The glared David leveled at the smaller man could have re-frozen the legendary glaciers. "You don't actually know my reasons, do you?"

"Of course not!" Joseph exploded, spittle flying into David's face. "What in the name of God could possibly justify the death of the Overseer?!"

David stared down at the man, breathing hard from his outburst. While Joseph attempted to compose himself, David sat back down and said, "If you have to ask that question, then the answer wouldn't make sense to you."

Closing his eyes, Joseph grit his teeth. "Arguing with you was not the reason that I came in here."

"No? Then why, to gloat?"

"An Overseer should make sure that justice is carried out. I am glad to say that once your sentence has begun, this vault will no longer have to suffer your barbarism," Joseph said, looking down his nose at David.

"Oh?" asked the larger boy, trying to cover the sudden trepidation in his voice. This was what they had planned on, but he still wanted to stay with everyone. He had been hoping for a miracle, that enough people agreed with him to keep him around, but it sounded like that wasn't the case. "And what's my sentence, exile?"

"It's what we spent the last seventeen hours debating. Not an easy decision, but no one wanted more death, so you will not be executed." Joseph paused briefly, allowing him to let go of the breath he was holding and close his eyes.

"Instead, your sentence is to be banishment."

David's eyes opened again, and he suddenly didn't feel as light as he did a second ago. "You'll be using me outside the vault?"

"And allow you to remain in contact, where you could infect the vault with your criminality? I think not." Fear crept into David's heart, and he felt a bead of sweat trail through his hair. With a malicious smile, Joseph continued, saying, "Allow me to explain. Your friends were pushing for a form of exile that would have you in near constant communication with this vault, fulfilling tasks that we would set for you. A foolish notion that could potentially have the people view you as a hero, which would be a truly disastrous situation. Instead, you are to be banished. In ten hours, you will be forcibly removed from this vault, and your return is prohibited. You will not be allowed to have communication with any residents, current or future, and when the settlement is established, you will be prohibited from entering. Any vault residents who come into contact with you, inadvertently or intentionally, will have the authorization to fire on you. All records of you will be removed from the database, and no one will speak of you again. Do you understand the terms of your banishment?"

David's head spun, and he had to take a couple seconds to process the word vomit. "Damnatio memoriae. That's – You can't do that."

"I can. In fact, I already have. You will be allowed to keep your pip-boy and a single 10mm pistol with one ammo magazine, but that is the extent of my kindness."

A moment of silence, then, in a hollow voice, all David could say was, "Get out."

Narrowing his eyes, Joseph said, "This is my vault now. I will do as I please."

"You're just a puppet. You do what whoever has their hand shoved up your ass wants." David lifted his gaze to deliver a dead-eyed look directly into Joseph's puce-colored face. "And yeah, you are the Overseer now. What happened to the last one, again?"

Normally, David would have taken a special amusement in watching Joseph run away with his tail between his legs. Right now, though, he was too busy reeling from the punch to his own gut. He had to keep himself in his own body, he couldn't afford to go back to where he was after his murder. So, he had to think.

From now on, he essentially wouldn't exist. Not in any way that would matter. Everyone he had known was now allowed and encouraged to shoot him on sight. He didn't expect them to actually take the liberties that were now given to them, but then again, he didn't expect banishment.

Did no one else understand why she had to die?

Didn't matter now. David had to look forward. He had to think, to plan. Figure out how to keep himself going.

Before that though, he had to sleep. Apparently, he had spent at least seventeen hours awake, and that was without factoring in how long he had waited for Alder and Morgan to help him get his head out of wherever he had gone, and the space between that and the start of the meeting.

Despite the lack of sleep, it still took hours of tossing and turning before David could find something close to rest.

"Get up." The statement was followed by what was possibly the rudest awakening that David had ever received; the cold steel of a rifle barrel shoved into his chest. Groaning, he forced himself to comply, forcing his eyes open, then blinking several more times as he tried to shake off the exhaustion.

As he sat up, he took note of the two guards in the room. One of them was looking away, not entirely enthusiastic. The other was looking down on him with a searing glare, poorly hiding his disgust. "Morning, Jim," David called out to the less enthusiastic one.

Sighing, Jim answered, "Morning. Not particularly a good one, though."

David stood up, stretching slightly. "Well, depends on how you look at it, I think. I mean, I'm the first person stepping foot out of the vault, right? That's pretty cool."

"An honor you don't deserve," the other guard snarled, shoving the barrel of the rifle into his chest again. David looked at her coolly, starting to understand that less people grasped the purpose of his actions than he had originally though.

"C'mon, Rachel, lay off him," Jim sighed. "He's just trying to brighten a bleak situation up a little. You can get behind that, right?"

Rachel grunted. "Not likely."

"So, when does my walk of shame begin?" David asked, holding out his hands for the cuffs Jim was holding.

As the guard snapped the cuffs around his wrists, he said, "Got an alarm on my pip-boy, it'll go off when it's time."

Just as the latch closed around his wrist, the man's pip-boy went off. "And that would be it. Sorry, David. If it's any consolation, I got what you did. Might not agree with it, but I figure I didn't know the whole story."

"Shut the hell up, Jim," Rachel growled at him. "I'll be reporting you later for sympathizing with criminals."

Jim rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't respond. Together, they all made their way to the elevator.

This level had originally been a residential level of the vault, but as their population had dwindled, other purposes were found. Now, it was a sort of penitentiary, used to hold prisoners when they hadn't been laboring for the good of the vault.

All this went through David's mind as he walked through the steel hallways of the vault, eventually coming to a stop at the elevator. He knew all the rich history of this vault, his home. The place he would never return to.

The elevator rumbled ominously as it carried the trio upwards, making Jim look around nervously. "Gotta say, I'm damn glad that we're getting out of here. Place is starting to fall apart."

Shrugging, David responded, "Well, we were supposed to be leaving it a century and a half ago. It's a minor miracle it lasted this long."

Rachel poked him with her pistol. "Shut up."

After another few seconds, the elevator let out a ding and opened. There weren't very many people, just the Overseer flanked by two people in power armor, the other three members of the vault's council, and his trio. "Hey, Morgan," said David, knowing she was one of the people in the power armor. Six people were trained each generation to use the old suits. Usually, the person in the other suit was him. "Who's the other guy?"

"It's me," came a voice over the suit's speakers as the person inside shifted. David nodded, recognizing the voice as his friend, Isabella. "Y'know, I always wanted to be in the saddle, but not like this. Sorry."

"Who knows? Maybe I can find one on the outside," David said, sending a small grin in their direction. He nodded over at the three council members. Linda, her hands and face dirty from the plants that she had probably been pulled away from, frowned back at him. Diego, the head of the medical division, sent an encouraging smile to him. Kendra, the chief engineer, nodded back. "Anyone got any advice for me."

"I'm afraid not," Joseph said, stepping forward and cutting everyone else off. "Let it be recorded that the criminal David King was exiled at 1347 hours. He was given a 10mm pistol and allowed to keep his pip-boy and vault suit."

The Overseer made a dismissive hand gesture at the guards. "Proceed."

David turned to face the vault door. A rough hole about the size of a man had been excavated from it, which would be how he was leaving, and eventually, the rest of the vault. They had had to dig through the door since the controls on the inside of the vault had failed, locking them in for a hundred and fifty years past their planned leaving date.

And he would be the first on the other side of it.

He felt Jim take hold of his wrists, unlocking the handcuffs. Morgan ambled up to him in her T51 power armor, silently opening her hand to reveal a 10mm pistol. Though her suit's speakers projected nothing, he could hear her faint sniffling. Giving her the most genuine smile he could, he took the gun, pulling the clip out to make sure it was full, nodding to himself before putting it back in.

Finally, he turned to face the door. He walked up to the hole, took a deep breath, and put his hands on the bottom of the hole to hoist himself up.

Then he looked back. To get one last glimpse of everything he had ever known. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sear the image in his mind as he turned back around.

David walked out the hole.

A/N: This is a story I am writing mainly to practice writing in general. As such, don't be afraid to leave constructive criticism, but please make sure that it is heavier on constructive than criticism; I'm not fragile but hearing other's opinions on things I normally don't share always hits somewhere vulnerable. Thanks for reading.