Chapter 1
Journal Entry: 146 Winters and 17 days
Well, shit. I'm pretty fucked.
This morning, I woke up with what I think are some broken ribs in some dusty-ass cave. Also, all my shit is gone. Well, not everything. I still have my implant, which is strange because they always go for that first.
My implant isn't working, which scares the fuck outta me. I need that shit to survive. It lets me keep track of everything including my health, where I am, and how the rest of what's left of the world is doing. But its not working, so where the hell am I?
With a malfunctioning implant, I walked outside to check where in the hell I am, but all the land in this god forsaken wasteland looks exactly the same. A pretty big dust storm was(and still is) washing through wherever the hell I am, so I couldn't see very far to look for any landmarks. But, that did tell me something: I'm in the Flatlands. So good news or bad news first? I'm an optimist, so good news: I know where I am. Bad news: it's the middle of Bumble-fuck nowhere. The Flatlands itself is huge and empty, so if I'm in the middle it'll take me weeks to find anywhere with civilization. I'll probably die of thirst before I get to wherever I'm going, and if not thirst I'll choke on the dust. Even if I am on the edge of the Flatlands, it'll still be a week tops to reach anything.
So yeah, I'm fucked.
Journal Entry: 146 Winters and 18 days
Alright, so I made a plan. It's pretty rudimentary, but it's a plan nonetheless. First things first: bust open my implant. It's gonna hurt like hell, but it's the only thing I got that can save me. Did I mention that I'm wearing nothing but underwear? Even in the desert, or shall I say especially in the desert, the nights are cold. The bombs warmed the world, but not that much. Damn you, nuclear science.
So, I'll crack open my implant, try to fix whatever is broken(hopefully just a loose wire), and go on from there, if all goes well, my PTS will kick in and I'll be able to plan my trip to god-knows-where. Even he probably doesn't know what the hell to do. Anyways, I'm gonna go find a big enough rock to smash this thing open. Wish me luck.
Journal Entry: 146 Winters and 18 days(II)
Fucking ow.
I busted the side of this thing open and the screen cracked. The glass poked into my forearm and drew blood. A lot of blood. So to control the bleeding, I'm not wearing underwear anymore. Its around my implant until it heals or I have to use it again. Turns out whoever stuck me out here opened my implant much more carefully than I did and switched some wires around. Why? I don't know. I'm just glad its fixed.
There is a silver lining, though, in that I am pretty close to the western edge of this shit-hole. Not right on it, but only about 50 miles out. So, if I head west, I shouldn't have too much trouble finding civilization. So Plan Get The Fuck Out of the Flatlands is a go! Will I live? Will I die? Find out next time on Baron Gets Fucked Repeatedly by Various Forces of Nature and Human Instinct. I'm still working on the title, but it works for now. I think its catchy.
Baron walked out of his dusty would-be tomb at dawn the next day, just as the dust storm finished dying. The curtains of dirt opened up to reveal the brown, barren wasteland Baron came to know and hate. The sun still fought the hopeless battle against the brown atmosphere to illuminate the doomed planet. He walked.
The Flatlands is a star-shaped patch of land about 400 miles in diameter with nothing but dust stretching across its entirety. No civilization or life resides within its borders, at least officially. Rumors circulate the wastelands describing "The Lost Vault 123," an experimental vault where a super-powerful form of the FEV virus was administered to half of the residents. The other half were scientists that were bred from test tubes, clones of Grand Marshal Drake Belfort. Belfort served in Operation Anchorage as a field medic, but was injured halfway through his scheduled deployment. He worked for the US government on the top secret Project Washington. Ironic, because the government at the time stood for everything Washington was against. This project aimed to create a serum of sorts that would physically enhance a soldier's abilities permanently. The project came to a halt when Belfort died due to microscopic pieces of shrapnel that creeped into his heart, ultimately leading to his its' bursting in his chest. Legend has it that he developed a method for cloning humans but never published his work, and that the Vault-Tec company purchased his estate to continue his research.
Nobody has ever been to Vault 123, but everybody knows a guy who knows a guy whose cousin's dad's friend...you get the point. Many rag-tag groups of would-be treasure hunters have gone out looking for the aforementioned vault, but most never return or come back with nothing at all. Yet, as fate would have it, our charismatic protagonist walked out of that dusty cave into the even dustier Flatlands and eventually onto the front doorstep of Vault 123, which opened upon his arrival.
Chapter 2
Journal Entry: 146 Winters and 22 days
Oh. My. God. They weren't lying. It's real. It's fucking real. I can't believe how lucky I am.
For those of you just tuning in, I woke up in a cave with nothing, and now I have stumbled across the biggest urban legend in all the wasteland: Vault 123. The government officially only made 122 vaults, but it says it right on the door: 123. Holy shit, I'm gonna be rich! There's gotta be some good shit in this place, I mean, why would the government keep it such a secret? I hope they developed something that helps me get laid. What can I say? The wasteland gets lonely.
Our destined hero stepped into Vault 123, naked, vulnerable, and naive. His heart pounded deeply as he stepped through the gaping hole that the door revealed. Inside, the air was stale and cold, and no light seemed to be emanating from anywhere that Baron could see. Along the right wall, lockers lined the hallway that led to a set of stairs going downwards. Baron investigated each locker, finding nothing but spiderwebs. The last locker held something else however: a Vault 123 jumpsuit. Without blinking, Baron threw on the jumpsuit to warm his body in the cool atmosphere of the vault. Just as he did, however, a loud alarm sounded, and the vault door shut behind him. Baron was stuck.
When the door shut, Baron was surrounded by a pitch black abyss that seemed to extend infinitely around him. He couldn't see his hand even if it was directly in front of his face. He tried to use the flashlight on his implant, but it wouldn't come on. The backlighting in his implant also wouldn't come on. So, the courageous young man sat down, wrapped his arms around his legs, put his head down and waited. There was no way to tell the passage of time, but to him it felt likes hours that he had sat there on the cool metal floor along the wall of the vault entrance. He listened intently for anybody or anything else that may be locked in there with him. Then, suddenly, the bright fluorescent bulbs that hung above his head blasted light upon him, and for a few minutes he was blinded.
Once he gained his bearings, Baron stood up and looked around the room. across the room stood old, rusty computers that didn't show any signs of life. Some screens were cracked or shattered, and a thick coat of dust layered nearly everything in the chamber. Baron walked down the stairs.
As he reached the bottom step, Baron looked up towards the catwalks on the upper level of the common room. Every vault had the same first two rooms: a small, hallway-like entrance with stairs leading to the cavernous common room. This chamber contained the individual rooms on the sides that every vault resident was assigned to. It also had labeled doors that led to each wing of the vault. As Baron looked around, he saw nothing, until he looked at the small circular window of the Overseer's office. A small piece of paper hung from the window with scribbled writing on it. Baron stared intently to try and read the small writing from a distance. The note read: "He's back. Go home. Oasis awaits us."
"What the fuck?" Baron said to himself quietly. Even at a near whisper, the large room threw his words back at him as they echoed around the room. He walked slowly towards one of the living quarters. To the left of the door, an empty slot that presumably once held a sign sat perched upon the wall. On the opposing side, a yellow box with a green button in the center sat at about equal height. Baron pushed the button, and the blast door(the standard door model for every vault) flung upwards with hissing hydraulic power.
Inside the living quarter was two twin-sized mats, one nightstand, one toilet, and one light. The walls were covered top to bottom with writing. The words "Oasis awaits us" were written hundreds, thousands of times in dark black. Baron quickly turned around and left the room.
To his left, a stairwell led upstairs to the catwalk. Baron took the steps up and the catwalk around to the other side of the common room. The standard-issue vault work-boots clanked against the metal walkway, breaking the deafening silence. Leaving the common room, he found his way to the Overseer's office. Inside a large semi-circular desk took up the majority of the space, with a wall of monitors immediately in front of it. The monitors were on, and every single monitor displayed a video feed of the overseer's office. And every single feed showed Baron staring at the wall of monitors. Baron looked around the room to find the camera, and when he did he looked back towards the monitors. They had about a half second delay, so Baron looked into his own eyes on the monitors. He repeated this process another two or three times.
Baron had two thoughts: Why would the Overseer be watching themselves, and how are the monitors still operational? Baron shook his head of these questions and made his way around the desk. He took a seat on the swivel chair that sat behind the rotund wooden table and began searching for information. He didn't know what to look for, so he just tore the desk apart. The drawers were empty, the desk was cleared off. Nothing.
Leaning back in the chair, Baron let his eyes wander around the room as he tried thinking of a plan. Nothing came to mind immediately. His implant wasn't working again so that was of no use to him. There were no clues around the office. He was stuck. Then, his eyes fell upon the left wall of the room, upon which a terminal hung. Baron jumped up quickly and rushed over to the monitor. He typed ferociously on the keyboard but nothing happened. He stopped, and feeling a little defeated, Baron began retreating to the swivel chair. Just before he turned around, however, a green light illuminated the room. The terminal booted up!
Baron's heart began racing again as he searched through the terminal's files for anything useful. He quickly scanned through old daily reports and current operating statistics. Something caught his eye. Under the occupants file directory, a folder titled "Resident Vitals" sat begging to be opened. So, Baron opened it.
A few seconds passed as the screen was blank, then words and numbers quickly flashed by as the entire directory loaded. Baron couldn't make out what the words said as they flung upwards too quickly, but all the numbers were 0's. Then, the numbers changed. 120. 78. 71. 40. 157. 101. 247. 144. 302. 197. 0. 0. One bundle of letters appeared before every set of two numbers. It was hard to make out at first, but Baron eventually figured it out: Blood Pressure: 120/78. Blood pressure: 71/40. Blood pressure: 157/101. Blood pressure: 247/144. Blood pressure: 302/197. Blood pressure: 0/0.
The display of numbers rushing by eventually came to a halt, and Baron read intently. Resident: Michael Fresion. Service: Laboratory Technician. Age: 32. Heart Rate: 0. Blood pressure: 0/0. Temperature: -12°F. Baron scrolled upwards. Resident: Franklin Egot. Service: Test Subject. Age: 22. Heart Rate: 220. Blood pressure: 296/157. Temperature: 132°F. Just as Baron finished reading the file, the numbers updated. Three thoughts came to his mind: The readings are live, there are others in the vault, and they aren't normal.
Chapter 3
Journal Entry: 146 Winters and 22 days(II)
I'm writing this as quickly as I can just in case somebody finds me. I found Vault 123 and something's wrong here. I'm not alone, and whoever or whatever is in here with me is not natural. There's no sign of anyone here but live vitals are being streamed to the Overseer's terminal. I'm going to look for a way out. The door locked me in and the controls aren't responsive, so I'll have to find tools to fix them. I found a map on the Overseer's terminal of the entire vault. The storage room is on the bottom level. Next to the laboratories. Wish me luck.
Oh, and if you find me dead, give my stuff(what little I may or may not have) to Danny Ponner in Fulton, and my love to Lolita Ressona in Ressona City. He's a good kid and she's a good woman. Take care of them.
Baron took the surprisingly operational elevator to the bottom level of the vault. When the doors opened, a dark void stared back at him, just as it did in the vault entrance. He carefully reached his hand around the open doors to find a switch, and he did. The lights flicked on one at a time lighting up a nearly endless hallway. On both sides, glass walls exhibited small rooms containing something resembling a dentist's chair, a myriad of medical supplies, and an abundance of blood. Dark red stains littered each room and the hallway in front of Baron. He wiped a drop a sweat from his brow and stepped into the hallway.
Keeping his back to a wall at all times, Baron made his way into one of the test chambers and began scavenging for anything that could help him. He found two stimpacks, some buffout, a bone saw, and an unloaded 9mm pistol. Baron placed the gun into the jumpsuit's holster, and placed the medical supplies into a doctor's bag he found in the corner of the room. He kept the bone saw in his right hand.
Baron walked slowly down the corridor, going room to room checking for supplies. Overall, he made away with 7 stimpacks, 2 buffout, 1 psycho, a bottle a water, some surgical tubing, his bone saw and an empty 9mm. Reaching the end of the hallway, a door stood with a partially illuminated sign above it that read: Storage. Baron slammed the green button and the hydraulics hissed as the door whizzed upwards.
He fell to the ground backwards in fear. Standing right in the doorway, staring right into his eyes was a man of similar build to Baron, wearing the same jumpsuit, with the same haircut, the same eyes, the same nose. The same. Baron looked at the person in the doorway. From the ground, Baron looked at himself, standing in the doorway, and saw the skin was ripped from the mouth and cheeks, forming a mangled, bloody smile. The gums and teeth were completely exposed and infected.
Baron looked at the bloody clone of himself and raised his hand to his cheek. When he looked at his fingertips, he saw blood. Baron got up, ran to the elevator, shut the doors, and passed out.