I wrapped my finger around the trigger and pulled it back,

but nothing happened.

I looked at the pistol in surprise and pulled the slide backwards, an empty casing falling to the stone floor.
I began laughing hysterically at the fact that my life was saved by a small bit of brass before throwing the silver gun as hard as I could to the end of the cave in rage. I heard it make contact with something and go off, and light streamed through a break in the brittle wooden door it had hit, the ray falling right on the face and causing me to recoil and scramble away from the light in surprise and pain.
I stood up, slowly, and walked over to the ancient wooden door to feel my foot go through something like weak rock.

I looked down to see my foot had gone through a skeleton's ribcage. Hmm.

Feeling desensitized at the moment I pulled my foot out and kept walking towards the door. I tried to push the splintered and rotted wood door open but it was stuck. I kicked the door repeatedly and only ended up with a sore foot. I then took to trying to bash the door in with my shoulder, putting a large crack in it. Getting frustrated I pulled my pistol and stupidly wasted whatever remained in the magazine of my pistol into the hinges and handle.

Finally managing to kick the door down I limped out the door and held my pistol out, loading another magazine, racking the slide, and putting the safety on before tucking it into the utility belt that hung around my waist, next to the baton I had stolen from Mack. Satisfied they were both securely in place I started walking down the steep hill to find it more of a cliff. About halfway down a previously secure looking foot hold crumbled beneath me and I started sliding down, one knee in my chest and the other dug into the ground to try and slow my self down.

When I reached the bottom my knees were torn up from the rocks and twigs I went over and I was coughing up dust from how many times I flipped over when my knees gave their position out. I sat up and spit out the last of the dust I saw a destroyed town and got up to take a look. Surely I would find something or someone there, right?

I got up and brushed my self off before checking my legs for anything that was major. I was surprised to find that there was a flesh wound in the side of my leg. It must have happened when I shot the two officers.
The moment I noticed it, it started throbbing painfully. I dug through my bag to find a vial of Med-X, peroxide, and a stimpak.

Pulling the plastic cap off of the needle I pushed it into my femoral artery and released half the chemical into my blood stream. I began to feel the effects immediately and sighed in relief before grabbing the peroxide and pouring it on the wound. I clenched my teeth slightly and then grabbed the stimpak. Preparing to push the pressure sensitive needle into the same artery I stopped as I thought of possible bullet fragments left in the wound so I instead wrapped it in a bandage and stood up, testing my weight on it. Satisfied that I could at the very least limp without falling I started off towards the bombed town.

The sun was falling when I reached and I could feel the air tingle on my skin as I watched it fall. I just stood there until I heard overly patriotic music playing behind me. I turned around and saw that there was a small floating orb with radio antenna attached to it's chassis. I looked at it for a few seconds before I heard a guttural yell behind me, whipping around I saw a man with what looked like grease smeared over his eyes and chest who had apparently strapped whatever he could find in a junk yard to himself including, but not limited to, a strainer as a helmet, half a rotted tire as a shoulder piece, chains to hold it together, a leather skirt studded with bits of scrap, and he was using a rusted car door as a shield and something to balance the silver sniper rifle he held on.

"Haha, I's got myself a new victim." He ran up to me, bashed me in the face with his shield before pointing his sniper-rifle at me and time slowed to a crawl.

'Guess I'm going to die here. Well, I was just ready to shoot my self, wasn't I?' I thought before realizing there was fear bubbling up from my stomach. 'But do I want to die? Then again, I don't really have a choice in the matter do I?' That's when he pulled the trigger back but it never clicked. The trigger was stuck.

I nearly laughed out loud when his gun was apparently malfunctioning. He tried to pull the bolt back but it was stuck as well. Without waiting for him to fix his weapon I pulled my pistol from my side, flicked the safety off and pulled the trigger back, the gun jumping back and almost hitting me in the head as I was holding it with one hand and was totally unprepared for the recoil. I recovered from the shot and saw that the man was missing an ear. He had dropped his rifle and, without thinking about it, I pointed it at his head and easily pulled the trigger back, putting a large hole in his head.

I put the rifle down and held my hand to my mouth, trying to force bile back down but failing. I scrambled away and vomited up last nights dinner of two-hundred year old Salisbury steak. Just as good going up as it was going down.

After I wiped the foul liquid from my lips I stood up, stumbled and nearly fell into my own vomit puddle and walked over to the guy and where I dropped his gun and picked it back up, pulling the bolt back smoothly and a shell popped out with a click and I picked it up. I looked it over to see that it was a rather well looked after gun, the stock was weathered smooth and the barrel was mostly free of rust despite it obviously being ancient. I lowered the barrel to the ground and looked at the corpse of the man, turning the sand red with his blood as it leaked from the gaping wound in his forehead.

I walked over to him, gun in hand, and crouched down next to him. Putting the rifle off to the side I started rifling through his pockets. Coming up with a handful of 10mm rounds, a mostly full box of cigarettes, a pre-war lighter, and another handful of magazines for the rifle. I put them in various pockets and then fell onto my back, letting out a heavy breath and I just laid there, thinking over what had just happened.

"I just killed a man, why is this such a shock? I killed Mack not an hour ago. Or was that a decade? I'm not quite sure..." I thought before checking my PIP-Boy's clock. "Just an hour. Guess I was right." My head swam with thoughts as I laid there, practically a corpse.

At some point I must've passed out as I when I opened my eyes there was a small crowd of people around me, smiling with rotted teeth at me. My eyes were flicking from one to another. It felt like I sat there for hours but it must've been for only a few seconds as they snapped into a frenzy as if not a beat was missed. One, a girl not far from my age with dirty brown hair in twin pigtails on the side of her head, swung her legs around my hips and straddled me, grinding down on me slightly. She held a rusty kitchen knife to my throat and lowered her face not two inches from my own.

"What should we ask him first?" She asked in a mock sweet voice, her putrid breath making me force down a gag.
There were multiple answers from the crowd but the most prominent was, "The Vault! Tell us how to get into the Vault!"
"You heard the guys baby. Now, let's know before I have to start playing rough. And if you play nice, I might just reward you. How does 'My Little Pet' seem as your knew name?" She once more pressed down onto me.
"Fuck. You." I spat out through grit teeth.
"Aww, I guess I'll have to get rough then." She frowned slightly before moving the knife from my throat and to my chest, cutting a diagonal line down the front of my jump suit and through my shirt. I stayed still though it broke my skin, causing a light twinge of pain. One started to say something but they were cut off by a lancing red laser blast piercing his skull. They all looked at the source and one said,
"Aw hell, it's one of those damn propaganda spewers. Light it up!" One shouted and they all turned towards it, pulling out either hunting rifles, pistols, or assault rifles, even the one sitting on top of me joined the firefight against the small bot that might've just saved my life.

I pushed myself to my feet and pulled the baton out, flicking it out with the press of a button I swung it into the skull of the nearest raider and picked the assault rifle he was holding. I raised it to my shoulder and pointed the circular sight at the skull of a raider. I put my finger into the trigger guard and prepared to pull the trigger but froze.

"Am I going to kill them? Do I need to?" Despite knowing that it would be needed to survive out here, I hesitated until I thought about what they were prepared to do to me, knowing that they would do it to countless more people. This sent me to that place where nothing matters.

A red haze filled my eyes and I fired one round into the head of one, the recoil jumping the gun up an inch until I tucked it further into my shoulder and pulled the trigger once more, the bullet flying into the skull of another, the sound of the fire fight around me masking my own gunfire. I killed another when one turned around to look at me and screamed out, I fired a round that went into his open mouth and took the top of his spine with it when it exited, pushing him to the ground. He didn't get up again.

I dived behind a nearby crumbling wall as they fired at both me and the strange flying radio. I lay down on my stomach as rounds pierced rounds the wood above me. I started to make my way to a hole in the wall when they stopped firing. I stopped as well.

"Think we got 'im?"
"Yeah, I think so. Go search to see if he's alive." I heard some angered grumbling as one left to my small shack area. I checked the chamber and magazine of my gun to see one bullet left

They walked over to me and I pointed my gun at the doorway and when he poked his head through his eyes saw me pointing the barrel of the assault rifle at his face. I held one finger to my lips and he just shouted,

"He's over he-!" His sentence was cut short by my bullet piercing his forehead. They began to fire at me and I retaliated with occasional shots from my pistol, hoping to take one or two out when I saw that the one I killed had the sniper-rifle I picked up from the raider from before. I crawled over to it and grabbed it by the barrel. Checking to make sure the safety was off I pointed it around the door way, fired and heard a yelp of pain.

I then crawled back over to the hole in the wall and, just to make sure there attention was focused elsewhere, I threw a bit of rubble at the wall and fired a bullet from my pistol, the slide locked back so I grabbed a magazine and drove a new one home, releasing the slide I put it in my belt and started crawling to the hole in the side of the house.

So, so many cliffs. Someone should put up a sign.