Author's Notes On An Evil JPEG Artefact: I hadn't intended release to take this long. I had finished this chapter by my original date (December 3rd) but then I decided to hold onto it for editing.

If you want to consider this the moment in which I leap over a great shark, consider it done.

---

MY SWIFT RISE from data input guy to lead investigator for entities I never really liked in the first place was met with no small amount of admiration or, in some cases, confusion and paranoia. How does one rise up the ranks that quickly? The truth is I have no idea. Perhaps defeating a quasi-deity - if leaving five people to die and bombing the place counts as defeating - and potentially saving the world had something to do with it. Regardless, I was thrust into a world I hated, and no amount of pleading for a transfer was going to help. Out of curiosity, I requested an official promotion report, unaware of the actual name. When the bureaucracy told me I didn't have clearance, I just broke into the database and read the report for myself. Apparently, the only reason was my results in the last operation. I could've picked out the obvious reasons; my lack of combat skills, poor deduction, a fear of the parahuman (even if I didn't show it, it was there). Today, I still have no idea why I was chosen.

All of that in the past. Now it was time to live in the present. I was moved into a bigger office right next to Colonel Autumn's office on Level 2. I couldn't help but feel proud of myself when I saw the plate nailed to the door: 'Colonel Malcolm Weiss - Head of the Department of Parahuman Affairs'. From Private to Colonel in less than a week. I wondered what position I'd be in two weeks. Meanwhile, the rest of the world seemed to be getting better. The Enclave was posting further soldiers on the Project Purity line, which seemed to be constantly attacked by hilariously pathetic Brotherhood of Steel squads in tin-can armour. Other than that our spies reporting a giant robot was being maintained and prepared for combat, they seemed to be little more than pests. Their outposts were being absolutely crushed by surprise Vertibird attacks. Despite the lack of popular opinion among the Wasteland's denizens, we were slowly getting there. A sweeping wave of patriotism formed among the civilians living in an Enclave underground city west of Raven Rock, Leesburg, causing a surge in the amount of new blood in the ranks. Out of the fifty that applied, fourty passed basic testing and none of them made it to the DPHA. I had about twenty men working under me, most of them resentful. Good for them, I thought, I don't deserve this spot either.

---

COLONEL AUTUMN CALLED me into the War Room about a month after the Dunwich Building Investigation, beginning my first official meeting. Around the circular war table in clockwise, from four o'clock, myself (sedated), unlucky bastard; Colonel Augustus Autumn (perpetually bemused), aide to President Eden; Colonel Henry Fogg (pleasant), head of the Department of Human Affairs; Colonel Sandra Kendricks (sleepy), head of the Department of Special Operations; Colonel-Commander Patrick Ulysses (half-drunk), leader of the Enclave Sigma Squadron in charge of Raven Rock security; and Wanda Tottenheim (impatient), head Scientist. Rumour had it that Eden had become somewhat of a recluse, drawing into his improbably-large office in the Control Room, only allowing clearance by Autumn. He was patching in via intercom, preferring to watch through the security cameras. I was kind of creeped out by it.

Autumn called the meeting to order by shooting in the air. All the chatter stopped.

'Now that we are all present,' he began, pressing a button which illuminated the table and brought it to life, 'let us begin the meeting.' Autumn tapped another button, bringing up the location of three Enclave outposts on the north-eastern part of the Capital Wasteland. 'A week ago, we lost contact with these three field bases. The officers are either refusing to communicate, or they have been sabotaged.'

'Clearly, it's sabotage,' Fogg chimed in, his voice grating into my ears very painfully. 'I know a guy from this place,' he pointed out the southern-most base, 'who just stopped talkin'. Gotta be one of them.'

'Or they fell out of our ideals,' Ulysses drawled, 'y'know, what with all the heretics nowadays.' He must've learnt English from Autumn.

'Absurd,' Kendricks said, straightening her overcoat. 'I find it preposterous to believe a stalwart member of the United States would even think of betraying us.'

'It's not impossible,' I helpfully pointed out. 'After all, there have been cases of deserters-'

'And they are certainly not the Enclave of our time.'

'Regardless,' Autumn cut in, 'that is not the concern. We believe that these are attacks committed by the Brotherhood of Steel. Or rather,' he hit another button, revealing a very familiar face, 'a third party.'

Deathclaws are some of the fiercest creatures I have ever heard of. I've no idea what they came from, nor do I care. Ferocious things, they're about the size of one and a half men, bear sharp claws, sharp teeth and (in some cases) a sharp intellect. They can effortlessly tear out someone's unarmoured throat, and it's fairly easy with their parahuman strength to tear off an arm or two in goddamn Power Armour. MK II if I may add. I seized up, garnering the attention of Autumn.

'In the meantime, we will be investigating this.' I felt like I had just been stabbed in the face. 'Colonel Weiss,' I noted his reluctance to use the title, 'we will assign your subordinate, Lieutenant Morgan, to this investigation. In the meantime, I'd like to brief you on your second operation. Have you recuperated from your last mission?'

If by recuperated, he meant still having frequent nightmares, then I was on the road to recovery. I nodded in confirmation, not exactly knowing what I was getting myself into.

'Just a few minor scrapes. Nothing serious.' I'd learn to regret that later, building up some fucked-up reputation of a man of action, who fears no parahuman who dares halt the Enclave's progress.

'In which case, we have a 122 that we'd like you to investigate.' He tapped a few more buttons, highlighting a small blue dot in the western regions. 122 meant something about super mutants, which was more than I wanted to know. Why couldn't I just be hunting Raiders and mercenaries instead? President forbid I shouldn't be hunting things I fear and loathe. 'We've detected numerous sightings of FEV-afflicted surrounding this area. We suspect that this is a breeding ground for the mutants.' He brought up a small datadocument up on the war table. 'Captives under the Super Mutants are being transported into here. From our scout reports, they have not been seen again.' Another datadocument was brought up, a salvaged extract from a Vault-Tec computer. 'Research indicates that the area is a vault, 87 to be precise. It was designed as a precursor for FEV testing. The project was ultimately abandoned, and the only working strain was moved to the Mariposa Military Facility in California. Oddly, Vault-Tec still kept the FEV despite this being a control vault. Vault-Tec decided to improvise and use the FEV in their social experiments.'

'Am I going alone?'

Autumn shook his head. 'Not today. You may have been lucky the first time, but certainly not now. We'll be assigning you to a Shocktrooper squadron to accompany you.' Oh thank Eden. 'Report to the armory for your load out. Dismissed.' It was a short meeting for me, and had I not been so thick-headed, I would've recognised what was going on.

---

THE QUARTERMASTER WAS a lively fellow, ever eager to help me out. She took one look at me, scoffed and handed me a requisition form while she fetched me some armour. Lovely. I scanned the piece of paper, marking down the weaponry I wanted. Sadly, the Enclave did not have any pistols that fired acid-filled rockets, so I settled with a Plasma Pistol, Gauss Rifle and Sedation Baton. My reasoning is that nothing melts a mutie like plasma weaponry and a 2mm projectile to the face. And, by chance, if we found somebody who could contribute to the investigation, 500 volts of electricity does wonders for subduing anything. I also put in the bid for three plasma grenades and two frag mines, just in case I need to lay traps. The quartermaster came back with a similar trench coat like last time, but thankfully with lightweight armour inside rather than useless padding.

'This is new,' she said, highlighting the interior material. 'The composition is classified, but it's highly durable to physical trauma.' She took out a small piece of cardboard, folded it slightly, wrapped it in the armour and began pounding on it. Nothing seemed to be happening to the cardboard. 'The material absorbs most of the attack, leaving only a fraction of the actual damage.' This may sound good, but when power armour can absorb the entire attack leaving no damage, it seems really pathetic. And this was all well and good, but something was nagging me in the back of my mind.

'Does this prevent bullets?' Quartermaster stopped banging and looked at me as if I'd asked her which end the bullets come out of.

'If you are going up against super mutants of this caliber, then the chances of these types being able to fire guns is slim.' She frowned at me. 'I thought you were an expert.'

I picked up the tan coloured Officer's Overcoat.

'Only with deities.' And with that remark, no matter how stupid it sounded, I left the requisition form with the grumpy Quartermaster went into the changing rooms adjacent the armory to change into my new overcoat and inner armour. The armour was actually quite comfortable. It didn't clip annoyingly on my skin, and when I hit it with my fist, I felt absolutely nothing. I only hoped I was right. I got out and picked up my equipment. I clipped the new ear-piece onto me, getting used to using a free-hand microphone rather than the kidney-sized transmitter. Autumn told me to report to the Vertibird Hanger #12 once I was finished.

Right there, I couldn't help but feel proud again when I saw a plate with writing etched into the titanium: 'Vertibird #12 - Personal Vertibird of Colonel Malcolm Weiss'. The company Vertibird was a sleek black airship, with enough seating for an entire squadron. Five men in Advanced Power Armour Mk. II were waiting for me outside. I never liked looking at Power Armour; wearing was fine, but there was something discomforting about the bug-shaped metal that wanted me to avert my gaze. The soldier closest to me wasn't wearing a helmet, so I took this as a sign of him being the leader of a squadron (some tradition that states that officers should be less protected then the men they are leading). He stretched out a bulging black-painted arm.

'Colonel Weiss, nice to meet you.' I extended my hand, and found that the leader had enough sense to have a loose grip rather than crush my hand. 'Sergeant Maxwell Liebermann of the Leesburg 12th, Squadron Omega. Squad leader and close-quarters specialist.' The fists etched into his armour was proof of this; it is an unwritten law that you must discern what role you are in the Enclave Armed Forces by etching a crude image relating to your specialty into the right breastplate. His was two fists, the right one on top. He motioned to the rest of his squadron. 'From left to right, Corporal Jason Ledoux, second in command, sniper; Corporal Craig Noble, heavy weaponry; Corporal Dean Paradise, demolitions and pilot; and Private Keira Ringwood, computer expert, mechanic and scout.' All of them seemed to like me on the spot, except the sniper, who was content to look at me through angry yellow eyes. 'Guess we're going to hunt some muties, right?'

I nodded. 'I'm going to assume you've never been in a vault before, right?'

'You kidding me? Ol' Dean grew up in one. It was, aww, which one... which one was it Dean?' Paradise, a giant who seemed to be more at home with a bent back and a plasma rifle in hands than forced to stand up straight and a combat shotgun, lurched forward.

'I grew up in Vault 13, born right around the time the Enclave liberated us and moved us into the Oil Rig outpost, and then Leesburg following its destruction.' He stepped back into the line.

'Guess that's enough jawin' here for now,' Liebermann said, and directed his squad into the Vertibird. 'Into the skybird, double time!' Skybird was a civvie term for a Vertibird, especially some of the older versions. The name stuck to most of the regular soldiers. We all piled into the transport as Paradise climbed into the cockpit and began the initial preparations for take-off. Noble was manning a turret at the rear end of the Vertibird incase we ran into any opposition. Ringwood began to rub her gauntlets together, forgetting friction doesn't work well with metal to metal.

'So, tell me about you,' she said to Liebermann. He seemed delighted to answer, and I knew people like him; if he didn't talk all the way through the flight I'll shoot myself in the arm with a laser pistol.

'Ain't much to talk about,' he began, ready to talk quite a bit, 'I grew up in a place called New Reno. I was the son of two Enclave scientists that dumped me off as payment for a trade with some big shot crime family.' He spat on the ground. 'Bastards.'

'Sorry to hear that,' I said.

'It's alright. All in the past. Anyway, I was raised by the Salvatores for about a decade. I was under the care of his bodyguard, a big bastard named Mason. When I turned, oh, I think I was fifteen, I ran out on a whim. By then, most of the Salvatores had been fucked up by this bigshot tribal bitch, so I fled down south to a place called the New Californian Republic. So I enlisted in their army for about three years, protectin' caravans and the like, 'till this guy from the Enclave shows up and tells me where I came from. I join them or I die.' He stretched his arms above his head. 'And so I flew all the way down to Raven Rock.'

'New Reno,' Ringwood echoed, 'isn't that the place where they made Jet?'

Liebermann's once thought never-ending smirk was quickly dashed away. 'Among other things.' He stared out the side window wistfully. 'Like body bags. The families were always in some fucking war. War for drugs, war for cash, war for war's sake. The four families'd be at each other's throats in an instant.' He shook his head. 'I don't know what's going down there, and I don't care.'

'Must've been a far cry from Leesburg, huh?'

'Got that right.'

'When you're done,' I said, 'I think we can head off now.' I was surprised how little time it took to get here. Of course, we were in a Vertibird, so it would be quick, but I was surprised when I saw we were in front of a cavern. 'Is this the vault?'

Noble hefted the large Flamer in his hands. 'Nope, we have to make a detour.' Ledoux was covering us, Ringwood was already making her way inside with Paradise, and Liebermann was still arming himself. 'The entrance to Vault 87 is heavily irradiated; not even our suits can bypass it. Didn't you read the report?' In truth, I was rushed into it, as is the standard that Autumn seems to have me on. I didn't know there even was an official report. 'Welcome to Little Lamplight, Colonel Weiss.'

---

I'D HEARD STORIES of a small settlement being run exclusively by children ever since the Great War, but I never thought it would be organised. Of course, one look at the gate and three missed bullets from the guard proved that they lived in constant fear of attack.

'What the fuck, mungo?' was the first words I heard from an irritatingly high-pitched voice. The kid in question looked no younger than fifteen, bearing bravado bigger than the gun he had (a R91 Assault Rifle, if I am not mistaken) and a quixotic trigger finger. He was wearing a child-sized pre-war American Infantry outfit, with motorcycle goggles strapped around the helmet. If it were any other chump in the Wasteland, he'd be dead in fifteen minutes, perhaps less. 'Oh, it's you mungos. Look, for the last time, we're not helping. Don't you get that?'

'We're not here for some diplomatic pursuit,' Ledoux said, 'we're here to get into Vault 87. If our intelligence is correct, there is an entrance around this point. Are we correct?'

The kid raised his oversized assault rifle, planted firmly on the only unarmoured guy in the party. My hands instinctively began to feel the plasma pistol in my holster. 'MacCready says nobody gets in, especially stupid mungos in trash cans.' Trash cans being a derogatory term for the power armour the Enclave foot soldiers bore. 'One mungo is bad enough.'

'I'm sure MacCready is very wise about survival, but-'

'Damn right I am,' the kid cut in, lurching slightly forward, 'and if I know anything about mungos, it's that they can't be trusted. Least of all bugmen.' Another reference to our power armour. People must have been working overtime to come up with such clever nicknames. 'So how about you go away before I blow your fuckin' brains out?' I came pretty close to decorating the gate with offal, and I could've sworn I heard Paradise cocking his shotgun before MacCready began talking again. 'Seriously, do you mungos fucking get it? We don't want you here now, we didn't want you before, we don't want mungos ever, and we don't want to work with them.'

'Kid,' I said, 'we're not here to talk relations over some Nuka-Cola-'

'Oh, now I get it. You wanna kill us, huh? That's why you brang all that heavy firepower?' MacCready hit a button near the gate, which I assumed signalled off some sort of silent alarm for reinforcements. 'You better start runnin', 'cause they're coming for ya now.'

'Oh, what are you going to do with your little BBs and peashooters?' Ringwood was getting far too close to shooting somebody, her hand trembling with the 10mm pistol equipped. 'Poke us to death?'

'Ringwood!' Liebermann snapped as he slapped her pistol down. 'The last thing we need is unnecessary collateral.' He turned to MacCready. 'What do you want?'

'For you to leave us the fuck alone, that's what!'

'Do you know where Vault 87 is?' I asked. Another kid, a girl about the same age as MacCready wearing a pink dress and a sawed-off shotgun, ran up the stairs on their side of the gate and took aim where MacCready was pointing.

'The Vault? Why the fuck do you wanna know? All that's left is big monsters.' Well, at least this wasn't such a fruitless endeavour. Provided that the kid wasn't talking about Yao Guai, Deathclaws, Giant Ants, Radscorpions, Mirelurks, Ghouls, Mole Rats, Radroaches, Centaurs, Raiders in big armour or Mad Brahmin, then he was talking about Super Mutants, confirming some sort of parahuman activity. That would've been good enough for me, but people have to go further.

'We're tasked to investigate and eradicate any Super Mutant threat inside the Vault.' Two more kids showed up with ChiCom pistols, the literal peashooters of the Wasteland. 'All we want is to enter there.'

MacCready scoffed. 'There's a fucking front door, stupid mungos. Go through that.'

'You first, kid.' Ledoux said. 'I wonder how long it will take for the radiation to kill you. I'm betting half a minute.'

'Oh no,' Noble said, playing along, 'less than that.'

The alleged leader was still looking and aiming firmly at us, and by us I mean me. I shrugged. 'If you want, you can cover us with your guns. We promise we won't do anything even remotely homicidal to your settlement.' Just to assert my rank over some of the more twitchy members, I turned my gaze to Ringwood and Paradise. 'This means you two. We are honoured guests in Little Lamplight, at least we will be if the leader's smart enough.' MacCready and his cohorts still had their guns on me, and I still had my ever-piercing gaze on them. For the briefest moment, I saw a small twinge of defeat on the soldier wannabe, which he quickly covered up by cocking his assault rifle.

'And what if we say no, mungo?'

I took a quick glance at Noble's Flamer, making sure I spent long enough so MacCready would notice. 'Then we have other methods of persuasion at our disposal. Our authority gives us the right to... misplace those who don't obey our commands.' I liked the little pause; terribly cliché, from what I have read in pre-war fiction during my time as a desk jockey, but it seemed effective. MacCready's eyes widened when I turned to look at him again, and with a heavy heart he hit another switch that opened the gate. His group ran down the stairs, weapons firmly placed on me. 'It's great when we can work out a compromise.'

'Eyes forward, you dumb mungo,' the girl with the shotgun said.

'Keep your guns on them,' MacCready said, circling around and leading us by the back. He herded us inside to the atrium, which seemed far from impressive. There was a building supported by stilts with a sign saying 'Souvenir Store', a building to the right that said 'Restrooms', and a sign to the furthest down that said 'Murder Pass'. MacCready turned me around to face him and the rifle dangerously close to my heart. 'There are two options you got, through Murder Pass or the other door.' I didn't like the sound of the first option, and I was all too eager to choose the second until-

'Can we get more information?' Noble said, annoyed that he was forced to turn off the Flamer during our temporary captivity. MacCready sighed, as if we were asking the most obvious question in the world.

'You got Murder Pass. There are big, scary monsters there,' (at this point I could not help but notice that there wasn't even a shred of sarcasm in that statement), 'and there's a door that goes into the Vault. We used to do that when we were scavving before...' MacCready trailed off, scarcely containing a sob which transformed into an angry cough. 'Then there's another door in the Great Chamber, but that's broken. Not even Joseph can fix it.'

'Who's Joseph?' Ringwood asked.

'None of your business, mungo.' MacCready spat, far too hostile for his own good. 'Now, what'll it fucking be?'

It was my turn to sigh. 'You've got real anger management problem-'

MacCready fired. The bullets whizzed dangerously past my head as Paradise tackled the de facto leader in a late attempt to save me. My squad formed a small circle around me (sans Paradise, who was holding down the squirming MacCready) to protect the leader. The power armour would absorb a majority of the bullets, so any attempts of resistance would be a frugal invitation to die. Despite the fact that we were outnumbered by the kids, we had the superior technology and training. If we chose to - and believe me, the Enclave isn't above mass slaughter of heretical towns - we would have obliterated Little Lamplight with no casualties. MacCready was trying to spout obscenities directed at me; the Little Lamplight citizens had whatever weapons on hand pointed at the circle of protection and my squad members aiming their weapons all around.

'Fucking shoot them already!' MacCready was asking for trouble. Everyone prepared their guns to be fired-

'Hold your fire, squad.' My voice was calm and clear over the angry murmurings of the Lamplighters. 'The last thing we need are dead kids on our hands. Even if they're trying to bring it upon themselves.' Paradise had one gauntlet over the mouth of MacCready, and would have gladly covered the kid's nostrils at a moment's notice. 'We'll take the safe road and go through the Great Chamber.' And give me a reason to avoid as many Super Mutants as possible. I nodded to Paradise, who let go of his grip on MacCready's mouth. He was trying to pierce my very soul with a weak stare, to which I was internally laughing at. He loosened up. 'Lead the way.'

---

JOSEPH WAS SURPRISINGLY helpful; being what I thought was the only person not afraid of adults. 'I don't believe in what you guys do,' he explained, 'but maybe this can help with our scav teams.' The Great Chamber was merely multitudes of freestanding rock platforms connected by weak wooden walkways. I was afraid that it'd collapse under the weight of the power armour, but it seemed to support it. Barely.

The young boy led us into a fusion reactor room, where Joseph tapped a few buttons to get the place up and running again. The door was locked via computer terminal, with no visibly possible way of opening it by brute force. 'That's as far as I can go,' he said, 'you'll have to do the rest.' I nodded in approval.

'Thank you. You've been helpful.' The comment didn't seem to make him any happier; he just shrugged off the comment and walked away. 'Ringwood, get it open.'

'Roger,' she said, drifting towards the terminal and inputting various commands that made no sense to me. I know as much computer skills as the next person, but I knew fuck all when it came to the more advanced hacking concepts. Ringwood danced through the data and, in less than two minutes, opened the door. 'Fixed.' She smiled at her satisfaction as I nodded approvingly.

'Beautifully played. Now, if we can get inside, we'll begin the official exploration.' I took out the pistol, started warming it up and walked inside. The squad was following behind me, evident that they wouldn't care if a Super Mutant ambushed me from further forwards. We entered through a maintenance entrance leading us into a larger power generator, which seemed to power the entire Vault. The walls were covered in rust and blood, both blending into the scheme of primary colours that composed the Vault. We walked down a flight of stairs, turned right into the main atrium of the Vault. Inside, the scattered remains of human corpses littered the floor. Ringwood was wearing a helmet yet you could tell that she was sickened. She began to wretch silently.

'Part of the job, kid,' Ledoux said, 'live with it.' His inspiring words did nothing to help the poor girl, who nearly threw up at the sight. 'Kind of a far cry from your Vaults, eh Dean?'

'I don't remember this Vault layout.' Paradise shrugged. 'Must have been a Vault-Tec thing.' I crept over to investigate a relatively intact corpse, to se-

'Die!'

Oh shit. I raised my Plasma Pistol and turned around to see a Super Mutant with a sledgehammer raised above its head, and then I saw a flash of light and the head was no longer attached to the body.

'Contact, three-o-clock.' Noble was unnervingly calm, considering the circumstances. He was slowly walking towards an incoming horde, dousing them with flames. Ledoux and Paradise were keeping me covered while Ringwood tried to get me into a safe place. I was keeping her safe by blasting off the heads of muties with my plasma pistol. You might be asking, 'hey, Weiss, why the fuck are you using a pistol when you've got a damn M72 on hand?' Well, the Gauss Rifle is certainly extraordinarily helpful in situations like this, but it eats 2mm bullets pretty quickly. I wanted to preserve as much as possible in the event we ran across something more dangerous, and a well-aimed shot to the head always killed something for me. A suicidal mutant charged towards Ringwood with a live frag grenade in hand. In a swift motion, she took out her pistol and took two shots to the grenade. The first one hit the grenade. Shards of metal and a mutated hand flew all around the atrium as the mutant was writhing in pain. Ledoux finished him off with a well placed headshot. Ringwood and I ran towards an upturned desk near the Vault medical room and took cover.

'Contact, eleven-o-shit, on your three, Ringwood!' We both turned to see two Super Mutants with a hunting rifle in each hand aiming for us. Instinct kicked in as I dived out of the way of the shot, taking my own chances and letting someone deal with it. Both of them came toppling down as Paradise took them both out with a well-placed shotgun burst to the backs. I scrambled up to find myself walking directly into another trap. Another incoming squad of muties was charging in through the second floor, armed with nothing but blunt axes.

'Oh, fuck this!' I screamed as I rammed the closest Super Mutant near me with my shoulder, sending us both toppling over. The mutant let go of his axe, which by way of nothing short of luck, was driven into the face of the strongest. He started to writhe in pain, dislodging it and sending a fountain of blood all over his partner's eyes, blinding him. Noble did the rest of the work by torching them. Ringwood stepped on the mutant I tackled right in the neck, breaking the windpipe.

'Shit, there's too many!' Paradise was panicking under the pressure. 'Fuck, fuck, we gotta move!'

'Through here!' Ledoux ran up a flight of stairs behind him. 'I-no, no, no-' I heard a sickening crack! through the radio, and then there was silence on his end. Another Super Mutant charged through carrying Ledoux's corpse by the now-exposed hair, flinging it towards Paradise. The corpse collided, tossing him over the makeshift barricades he was hiding against. Noble was caught off guard for a brief moment, and that was all that the mutant who charged through a side door to throw a grenade. Noble saw it, and then he saw nothing more as the grenade went off in his face. The helmet should have taken most of the damage, but it didn't. His head exploded just as easily as the kamikaze's hand did. Paradise was struggling to get up as the Mutant jumped on his chest feet first, crushing his lungs under the weight of the power armour. Ringwood was going crazy, spraying her pistol in all the entrances. I caught a glimpse of a Mutant taking aim with an assault rifle as I took aim and fired first, melting his chest into viscous green goo. Ringwood took out the last two mutants with surprisingly well-placed shots, and that was it. The battle was over. I tapped on the earpiece, patching me into Enclave Raven Rock Command Channel #4.

'Colonel?' From here on out, I was addressing directly to Autumn. I'll miss that non-caring radio support.

'We've come into contact with definite super mutants. Casualties are three: Paradise, Noble and Ledoux.' I looked over the battlefield, and then muttered something reminiscent of 'oh fuck'. 'Liebermann is MIA, possible desertion.' In retrospect, I never noticed him on the battlefield at all. In fact, I didn't think he even entered the Vault.

'Excuse me?' Autumn was, as you'd think, less than impressed. 'I leave an entire squadron under your command, and four soldiers are already dead?'

'Well, there's always the missing guy-'

'Who is dead the instant we find him. You have two hours to complete this investigation, or the penalty of a court martial for your actions, Colonel Weiss.'

'Well,' I said, attempting to get out as fast as I could, 'I did. I've confirmed Super Mutants are inside this vault. We don't have enough firepower to eradicate every mutant here.'

'Then don't,' Autumn replied, 'find another way to kill them all.'

'Sir, with all due respect, the first thing I need is more troops.'

'So you can find a way to kill them? Weiss, you blew your chance the instant you told me about this. Good luck getting someone to give you more men.'

'Vaults weren't built with self-destruct sequences. We'd never-'

'Stop your whining and do your job!' I was taken aback; Autumn was usually cranky, but never outraged. 'The very last thing I need right now is complainers like you! Do you want to have your rank revoked? Do your damn job, and get back the G.E-' He stopped himself, but I knew what he was talking about.

'You mean the Garden of Eden Creation Kit?' I'd heard of it before; a few Vault Requisition Dataforms get handed into my office every once in a while when I was still pushing buttons on a keyboard. It was almost fantasy in a way; a terraforming module created by Future-Tec that seemingly made life out of nothing. It was built with a basic replicator unit, holodisc reader with selections from the Library of Congress, and a little pen flashlight, as well as a kit for tending to the newly-developed land.

'Irrelevant. We already have six modules anyway. Continue with the mission.'

'Sir, I-' Autumn cut off transmissions, and blocked me from any further communication. Was he trying to kill me?

'So,' Ringwood interrupted my thoughts, 'we're screwed.' I gulped.

'For lack of a better term, pretty screwed.'

---

RINGWOOD AND I wandered through the Vault, looting rooms for any possible way to finish off all the Super Mutants. After the skirmish in the atrium, most of the muties thought fresh meat was where the battle occurred, so we encountered little resistance wandering around. Occasionally, there was the group of three with firearms, but we stuck to running like hell in that situation.

After ten minutes of pacing around in circles, we finally came across the Overseer's Office. Sadly, most of it was trashed, and the only things we saw intact happened to be a backup terminal. At least, I thought it was a backup terminal. The computer wasn't even highly protected, taking Ringwood all of three seconds to crack it. The terminal was just a backup of the Overseer's files, none of which actually helped. We were both angry. The Enclave led us on a suicide mission for no purpose other than to investigate, and now they were changing the rules. Do they do this to all their new officers? I thought as Ringwood motioned towards the window. From there, I saw a lone Super Mutant dressed in the tattered remnants of a Vault jumpsuit. Scarier was the big Super Sledge it was holding in its right hand, and the briefcase in its left. I fought down an impulse to send my partner flying through the window to distract it.

'Oh no,' I heard myself say, 'this is not good.' I wasn't entirely aware if I was speaking what I'm sure Iwas thinking, but what scared me more about the mutie was its friend. A young woman in mercenary's attire.

The Lone Wanderer.I prepped my Gauss Rifle, which would have easily pierced through the reinforced glass window, and took aim. She was peering around the ground floor, surveying the area with a rifle. I'd seen those before, on photos of a place called Point Lookout a year ago. I heard it's a nice place for an adventurer.

I fired, blasting the mutie's head wide open, and turned around, taking cover behind a wall. Ringwood followed suit, and we both waited.

Waited.

Grenade.

We both took cover as the plasma grenade tore out a good chunk of the opposite wall. Ringwood began to blindly sweep the atrium with bullets, which she was sure would send her target to death. The 10mm rounds weren't going to help, so I chucked two of my plasma grenades into the atrium to help her. They exploded in a satisfying crackle and explosion as I turned around, dropped my Gauss Rifle and dropped down onto the floor, landing hands and feet first on some glass. I was glad for the gloves. I drew my plasma pistol and turned around to see the Lone Wanderer with a rifle in my face. I knocked the rifle's barrel away from me as she fired into an overturned table. I was about to fire a clear shot into the head before she knocked my gun away, kneed me in the face and kicked me onto the ground. Ringwood took another shot with her pistol, barely missing the Lone Wanderer's head. The Lone Wanderer looked up to see the power armoured soldier and tossed another grenade. A blue sphere erupted, blasting Ringwood to the end of the office. The power armour would have been damaged from the pulse grenade. I drew the baton out while she was distracted, hoping to get a good hit in, but as usual she was too quick, punching me in the ribs. The baton slid across the room as she ran to take cover behind a desk. I struggled to get up, feeling around my overcoat for a weapon before realising I had none. I was completely naked, weapon-wise.

'Private Weiss, wasn't it?' She was mocking me, the bitch.

'It's Colonel, now.'

'Oh, you got a promotion?' I didn't notice that she could use the shadows to her advantage, slipping in and out of the darkness as if it were clothing. 'So quick, too.' She could've been anywhere, or everywhere. 'And so... prestigious.'

I saw her out of the corner of my eye, sneaking around me with a knife. I ran towards the entrance, hoping I'd be faster. Instead, she became impatient and charged at me, knife pressed up against her side. I rolled out of the way and tackled her to the ground, knocking her off balance and sending her knife down to the ground. I decided to make it fair as I kicked it away from her, letting the Lone Wanderer get up. She began to smile.

'I suppose you and I have unfinished business?'

'I suppose so.' Then I tried to punch her, but she grabbed my hand and pushed me into a desk. My knee blocked the travel, nearly dislocating it in the process. Every punch I threw would either miss or be parried, but it was reciprocated. She couldn't land a punch either, missing or me countering it. I didn't care for being on the offensive, I just wanted her to tire out until Ringwood woke up (if she ever did) and take a clear shot or if I could kill her first. We spent three minutes fighting like that. Fighting with the same skill, the same moves, the same strength, the same agility. It was like watching a clone of yourself. Knowing that I wanted her to make a mistake, I began to taunt her four minutes into the fight.

'I thought the wasteland's most dangerous inhabitant would be a better fighter,' I said as I was protecting myself from a volley of punches. I was getting to her; the last punch was a bit sloppy. 'I wasn't expecting such weakness!' That got her angry for some reason. She tried to kick me in the ribs, telegraphing it so loudly that I dodged it and punched her in the side of the neck. It was potentially lethal, and it nearly had an effect. I saw her beginning to fade, but her perseverance prevented her from passing out. Taking my opportunity to escape, I ran towards where my baton was, but I felt a searing pain in my right ankle halfway in my pursuit, She'd taken out a second knife and thrown it. My right leg was immobilised, hurting every time I tried to move it. The Lone Wanderer was clutching her bleeding rib. I tried to get a Stimpak from my coat, but then she approachedand twisted the knife. Imagine the worst pain you can think of that would happen to your ankle. This was worse. By sheer luck, she'd managed to get in between my joints.

'Ah, so much better.' The Lone Wanderer winced as she said the words, taking my Stimpak and injecting it into her neck. Her wound was near boo-boo levels in comparison to mine. 'Now, where was I?' She took out her knife, which only added to the pain I was feeling. Blood was rushing out pretty fast, and I started to lose my vision. She slid another knife in my stomach. I let out a massive cry of pain, which only served to encourage her. 'Feeling better?'

I tried to fight back, but my muscles were permanently frozen. They had just stopped functioning. I had enough willpower to speak and move my head. 'W-w-'

'Why?' At first I thought she was going to be merciful, but then she jammed the knife in my stomach back in. 'Because I can.' And she took the knife out and left me to bleed.

---

TIME SIMPLY STOPPED as I saw her face melt into the brown rust of the Vault. I heard a scream, and then nothing. The world went black as my five senses were silenced. Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

A voice.

abdul

And another one.

he comes to feast

And another one.

weiss

And another one.

g'yeth

And another one.

weiss weiss weiss weiss weiss weiss weiss weiss weiss weiss weiss weiss

And I saw an abomination. It was not the abomination that I deterred two weeks ago. It was a city of them. A city constructed on death. Bone and flesh bound together formed the buildings, blood and marrow oozing out of them. The seas were black, a viscous oil that was splashed on many of the macabre structures. There were very few living denizens; corpses littered the streets. I saw what can only be described as a daemon, an entire inch of its back torn off by unknown forces, drag itself with its purple claws, leaving a trail of the black blood.

I must've been going crazy. One final hallucination to end my pathetic life. I was on the ground, looking down. There was an antiquated gun, rusted and blood soaked, but I took it. My ankle seemed to be fine, but it hurt to walk. My entire body tried to stop me. I walked regardless. I checked the gun. There was a clip inside. Nine bullets. I looked over at the creature, struggling to survive. I took aim and fired once. Its eyes bulged in fury, and then sunk down. It had no distinguishable features other than purple rimmed eyes, but I am sure that it was in peace. I kept walking. Behind me, a tidal wave of the black substance washed over a statue of a skeleton horse. I could hear the creaks as the bones snapped off. I assumed it was a tidal wave. For all I know, it could have been a substance cannon, a massive water gun. I didn't care. I moved on.

I walked. I walked and saw the carnage. Other residents, walking wistfully like I did. Other residents, being torn to shreds. I walked until my legs could take no longer and I collapsed. I looked forward, and I saw myself, being ripped open by a creature I could not even think of in my worst nightmares. Instinctively, I took a shot at the creature.

My clone's head exploded as he let go of the abomination he was killing.

And then I looked at the gun again. It still had a few bullets left.

I put it up to my temple.

Fuck it.

---

I SNAPPED BACK into the realm of the living.

I crawled my way towards the pistol Ringwood had dropped in the explosion. I prayed that it connected. It did, right in the left arm. The Lone Wanderer looked at me in confusion and anger, not until I heard another sound.

'Contact!' I heard as an Enclave trooper rushed in, firing a tranquiliser dart that knocked out the Lone Wanderer. A squadron of what I thought was Sigma troops rushed in as Autumn and Ulysses casually strolled into the atrium. Autumn was tending to the Lone Wanderer while Ulysses tried to help me up.

'Holy shit, buddy, you're hurt. Medic, get him patched up.' The soldier next to him nodded, and began to bandage my wounds with a kit he'd had strapped to his chest. It hurt, but not as much as the stabbings did.

'Christ,' the medic commented on my body, 'a normal person shouldn't be living after this.' He tapped on his helmet. 'Get an emergency evac team over here, stat. One critical, in need of instant medical attention.'

Despite everything, a smile forced itself on my face.

---

I LIVED. AFTER some surgery, I was on the road to recovery. I would be in a wheelchair for a week, and then after a daily injection of a Stimpak into my injuries for three weeks it would be fully healed. In pre-war times, I'd be in the wheelchair forever. The doctors were amazed at my recovery, and somewhat confused and suspicious as to why I was still alive. They didn't bother check for my mental wellbeing. If I told them I didn't dream anymore, I'd be a textbook example of PTSD. In the meantime, a lot of things happened in my inactive status.

Ringwood died. The pulse grenade had shattered the mainframe of the power armour, and caused an internal combustion in major sections. The suit lost the cooling functions, causing the armour to overheat. She'd been cooked to death.

I was up on charges of reckless behaivour, neglect of a squadron under my care and a failure to report critical mission information. Enclave High Command, the council that oversaw all military court charges, dismissed the case. Between the prosecution's lack of evidence and half of the jury having heard the stories of Malcolm Weiss, Expert Deity Slayer, He Who Fears Naught But Fear Itself, the defense coasted through the courtroom. I caught a look at Autumn after leaving the courtroom. He wasn't impressed.

The attacks on Enclave outposts began to increase. It was determined from eyewitness accounts that it wasn't a simple BoS clean-up squad. All the attacks were done in large numbers, antiquated technology, some claiming that those who attacked were in tribal garb.

And, perhaps the most important, the Lone Wanderer was captured. Despite the fact that, by the books, I had failed the operation, I gave the Enclave their biggest pest. Detained in a holding cell until transport could arrive and paperwork could be filed to take her to a more secure holding facility, she'd been frozen until suitable evidence could be obtained. Which was easy, considering the impressive body count of raiders, slavers, traders and miscellaneous good and bad guys alike she'd accumulated in her short time span out in the wastes. A file was being compiled on her, yet only the basest of information could be found. We didn't even know her name, only her father's.

Speaking of her father, the work on Project Purity was going well. The installation of the G.E.C.K. was a harmless operation, and all that was needed was the code. It seemed odd we needed to wait so long, but I am not one to question our technical team.

'You need to take a holiday, Weiss,' said an old friend of mine from Leesburg, Daniel Smith, while he came around to Raven Rock to play a round of poker with his antiquated 52-card deck. It was a popular game when we were growing up as students, and we'd never given up on it since. I took a sip of the whiskey he'd brew every Friday, as he always did with an obsessive air. 'Seriously, there's no point on you being collateral-' He looked at his newly-acquired card, and couldn't resist not smiling. 'Shot down, my friend. I raise.' He slid some of the tokens into the pool.

'You never were a good poker face, eh? I call.' I slid the same amount in. I was still beating him with a record of 15-1 in this match. 'I guess a holiday would be good once I get out of this damn wheelchair. 'Show of hands.' I laid down my cards. 'Four aces.'

Dan shook his head. 'Straight...' He laid down a 2, 3, 4 and 5 of Diamonds. '...fucking flush.' He took the entire pool of tokens. 'Not your best day, huh? Oh yeah,' he fumbled inside his pockets and handed in a holotape to me. 'I got this in the mail, though I don't have much use for it. Can't afford the goddamn trip anyhow.'

We played for another hour before visiting hours closed down. We bid our farewells, and I put the holotape into my personal terminal in my living quarters.

'Looking for adventure? Looking for treasure? Looking for a good place to sit down and relax? Come no further than Point Lookout!' It was a chirpy little thing, and as annoying as one would expect. But it made sense.

Point Lookout.

Sounds like a nice place.