"As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape."

- John Lancaster Spalding

Leon jerked awake, his head ringing with the sound of alarms. He glanced across at the clock next to his bed; 3am. What in the hell was going on?

He swung his legs out with a groan, sat up and sighed, fighting back the urge to roll back into bed and stuff his head beneath his pillow. That seemed like the smart thing to do, anyway. It was obvious that something had just malfunctioned, probably another Radroach crawling around the water purifiers. Leon's father, James, a scientist located on the lower levels, had mentioned the maintenance guys grumbling about not being able to get the bugs for weeks. So, while they wouldn't have normally set off the alarms, who knew how deep they may have gotten.

Leon coughed suddenly as the thought of Radroaches swimming around in his drinking water trickled its way down his throat.

There was a sharp banging on the door. Leon's head snapped around, before his hand darted out to grab some clothes cast lazily on the floor. As quickly as he could he stuffed himself into his Vault overalls, the closest thing at hand, still dirty from his chores the day before.

"Leon!" It was Amata, his friend since they were both little. His best friend. He had always been careful around her though, as her father was the Overseer of the entire Vault.

Vault 101, his home. The shining walls that surrounded him every day, that met his eye even now, in his room, just radiated security, safety, a promise of a good life, a happy life.

"Yeah," he grumbled, "give me a second!"

"Leon, Leon hurry!" she said. Her voice was high, her words rushed. Even if Leon hadn't know her all his life, hadn't had her personality ingrained in his brain, he would have recognized she was scared.

With his overalls on he rushed to the door, part worried, part curious. Surely the alarms and her fear were connected, he thought.

He pressed the button next to the door and it hissed open, the large metal plate sliding upwards and disappearing into the roof. Amata stood on the other side, her gentled bronzed skin slightly reflecting the lights in the corridor, her hair dark as night. Her lips were pursed, her eyes staring down the hall, darting to and fro.

"What's up?" Leon asked, frowning in worry.

"Leon, oh my god, your dad...your dad's gone," she said hurriedly.

"What? Gone where?"

"He just...left. Left the Vault Leon! And my father thought...thought Jonas was involved. My god Leon...he's dead!" she was talking so fast now Leon had to struggle to keep up. Jonas, his father's dark skinned lab assistant, had always been like a second father to him.

"Amata," he said, as confidently as he could, reaching out to grab her with both arms and pull her around so their eyes were locked. "Slow down...and tell me what happened."

She let out an anxious sigh, the air coming out in stutters. "Ok...ok," she started. "Your dad left and my dad thought Jonas was involved, so he had some of the security officers interrogate him and...and..." tears began welling in the corners of her eyes. Leon pulled her into a tight embrace.

"And?" he asked, as gently as he could.

"And he's dead and..." she snapped back, her eyes wide, like she had just remembered something she shouldn't have. "They're coming for you!"

"What?"

"They think you're involved...Leon, you've got to get out of here!"

"All right," he said, taking a step back, nodding. "Where are we going?"

"No, Leon, you've got to leave the Vault!" she exclaimed.

He knew it was physically impossible but he still swore he felt his jaw hit the ground.

"Leave...the Vault? Are you crazy?"

"You're dead if you stay here. Look, I got you this," she said, giving the corridor a quick look over before producing a pistol from under her shirt.

"Jesus Amata! What are you doing with a gun?"

"Please Leon, just take it. I don't want to see you get hurt..."

He gulped and reached out, hesitantly. His fingers curled around the grip slowly and Amata let it go, the full weight of the pistol dropping into Leon's hand. It felt lighter than he thought. In fact, he barely felt it at all. He found he was staring at it, adoring it.

"Leon, did you hear me?"

"What?" he asked, shaking his head as her voice snapped him back to reality.

"I said," Amata started, slowly, "you need to get up to the Atrium. From there you can get up to my father's office and out to the Vault door. You get all that?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Atrium, office, door. Easy."

"I wish I had your confidence," she muttered. "Just try not to get yourself killed, ok? I'll try and distract my father."

She turned and started walking away.

"Amata!" Leon called. She turned to look at him. "Be careful."

"You too," she said with her dazzling smile. He couldn't help but smile back.

She gave one last nod then disappeared around a corner. Leon flexed his fingers around the pistol, took a few deep breaths and stepped out of his room.

Leon shook his head, trying to shake away the memories unsuccessfully. He didn't know why he even bothered anymore; he had been trying to get rid of them for years. How he thought shaking his head would make a difference, he didn't know.

He flexed his fingers around the pair of binoculars in his hands and held them up to his eyes. The bleak landscape of the Capitol Wasteland stretched out in front of him; radiated dirt, skeletal trees, wreck and ruin of the world that had been long ago. And out in the distance squatted his target; Paradise Falls, the so-called 'slaver's stop'.

It wasn't much to look at from the mile or so Leon was away from it and, he knew from experience, was even less to look at up close. The decaying ruins of a few Pre-War houses dominated the small settlement with a few ramshackle shacks built around them for good measure. A wall crept around the entire town, built from anything and everything; scrap metal, large planks of wood, even the burnt out, rusted remains of Pre-War cars. The only distinguishing feature was the large statue of a smiling man with strange hair, red pants, a blue shirt and an ice cream cone in his one remaining hand.

He sighed and let his arms drop, the binoculars falling away from his face. Say what you want about its looks, it was still a veritable fortress. There was no way he was going to be able to shoot his way in, which meant he would have to play it the other way, the diplomatic way. Something he hadn't particularly liked before he was a drunk that hated the world.

This is going to go well, he thought sourly and, after a moment of anger, he sighed again, remembering who he was doing it for. If it saved Sarah, he would do whatever he had to.

Paradise Falls was nothing like its name, not being a paradise in any sense of the world. It was a haven for the slavers that plagued the region. All slavers and their slaves heading through the Capitol passed through there in some capacity; whether stopping for the night, getting information about potential areas to avoid, or just paying tribute to the local 'lords'. At any time there could be people from the Pitt to the northwest, from Rich End to the south, even as far out as Sin City to the west or the Commonwealth to the northeast.

Many in the Brotherhood had called for its destruction, back when Leon was still a part of that group. Leon had been careful never to offer his opinion, however hard the others might have pressed. He knew what they wanted, expected, him to say, but he never could. Destroying this one town, while perhaps bringing some small peace to this chaotic world, wouldn't impact the big picture. Slavers were always going to be around; at least this way everyone knew where they were.

He got up with a grunt, stretching his legs, trying to get the blood flowing again. He stuffed the binoculars back into his well-worn pack, threw it over his shoulder and began trudging slowly towards the town in the distance.

He started thinking, trying to devise some kind of plan. He let his mind wander, as he used to do in times like this, attempting to float above his thoughts, trying to see the big picture and how to change it.

But he found he couldn't do it anymore. Instead, as his mind drifted off, it floated ever so gently into the memories he had been drowning for so many months. Times he had almost forgotten were dug up like corpses from a fresh grave. He heard a scream, knew it was only in his mind, knew what was coming next...

Leon stepped out of his room, pistol in hand. The alarms were blaring, louder than they had been in his room. Half of the overhead lights were dimmed, replaced with the dull, rotating red ones that indicated something was wrong. They swivelled, over and over, red light being replaced by white light on the shining walls and vice versa, over and over, like some kind of titanic battle.

He was consciously aware of the pistol in his hand, of his fingers draped around the rough grip, of the weight, focused at the back. He held it by his side, unsure exactly what he was meant to do with it. He did have a BB gun, a birthday present from his father, but he guessed firing a real gun would be much different.

He was moving slowly, each step seeming harder than the last.

"You! Stop!" someone shouted from behind him.

Leon turned, saw a security officer standing a few metres away. Officer Kendall, if he could see the face underneath the plastic face guard of his helmet right. Leon raised the pistol half heartedly, Kendall smiled and raised his baton in response. He was, after all, wearing the standard bulletproof armour that all security officers were issued.

The ceiling above them rattled and both men looked up for a split second. One of the tiles jiggled slightly, then fell in, a dozen Radroaches pouring through the hole.

"Jesus!" Leon exclaimed. He began firing wildly, bug guts spraying wildly across the ground. Kendall roared as the Radroaches launched themselves at him, overwhelming him with sheer force of numbers. His scream was bone chilling and, at first, Leon took a step forward to help him.

Then he remembered what Amata had said about Jonas. Kendall might not have been as vicious as Mack but he was a damn close second. If Jonas had died during 'interrogation', there was a fair chance Kendall had been involved.

So Leon turned and headed away as fast as he could, running when he turned the first corner.

He became dimly aware of muffled shouts and screams, of the random staccato of gunfire echoing through the formerly peaceful halls. Leon's breath was coming shorter as he ran but he couldn't stop, every noise around him driving him on. He stumbled as he made it to a corner, slumped against the wall, breathing hard.

"Hey, are you alright...oh..."

Leon looked up. Officer Gomez was staring at him, one hand gripping a baton, Radroach guts covering his uniform. Leon swallowed, felt his hand tighten around the pistol grip. Gomez had always been nice to him, but then so had Kendall, and Leon doubted any Radroaches would come along to save him this time.

Gomez swallowed, eyes flicking down to the gun in Leon's hand, then down the corridor they were in.

"You've got to go," he said, offering his hand to help Leon up. Leon took it, hesitantly.

"Were you involved with Jonas?" he asked coldly as he got to his feet.

Gomez looked away, clearly saddened. "No," he answered with a weary sigh. "I'm no killer. That's why I'm helping you. Take the stairs further down on the right, that should get you up to the Atrium. I'm sure you know where to go after that."

"Why-"

"-am I helping you?" Gomez finished. "I don't know...I guess our conscience catches up to all of us one day. Go Leon...go, and I'll forget I saw you."

He pushed Leon gently in the direction of the stairs he had talked about and disappeared around a corner without another word.

Leon stood in stunned silence for a moment before heading slowly to the stairs. He looked back one last time, half expecting Gomez to reappear with several other security officers, all heavily armed. But he didn't. Nobody came. It was just Leon, alone, amongst the halls of his childhood.

Leon nodded at the guardsmen leaning against the gate leading to Paradise Falls.

His name was Grouse, and he more than lived up to his name. His dark skin matched his dark leather armour that covered his body and he lazily stamped out a cigarette as Leon approached.

"What do you want?" he grumbled, picking up a rifle he had leaning next to his leg, holding it loosely.

"I'm here to see Eulogy," Leon grunted, seeing the man's eyes widen a little at the name.

Leon had heard that Grouse had a problem with Eulogy, that Eulogy had killed Grouse's father to take over Paradise Falls years ago. But, as hard as he tried, he could never quite work that angle.

Grouse's eyes narrowed. "For?"

Leon groaned, loudly. "To buy a slave. Why the hell else would I be in this shit hole?"

Grouse didn't seem convinced. "What do you need with a slave?"

Leon knew what he was implying. As the Lone Wanderer he had gained a reputation as a hero, a saviour to the wastes and all around good guy, not exactly the kind of person that trafficked in slaves. What most failed to mention, however, was the jobs he had done for Paradise Falls, the trail of good people he had left as corpses over the years. He was no hero, and he wished everyone else would just hurry up and figure it out already.

"I'm retired," he answered, letting irritation creep into his voice at the thought of digging up even more memories. "I need a slave to clean my house. Preferably female. Preferably good looking."

"Fine," Grouse grumbled, laying his rifle back down against the wall and pulling out another cigarette. "Go in, but pull a weapon, you die."

"Yeah, yeah," Leon said, waving his hand dismissively. "I know the rules."

He strode past the guard, down through the small corridor and then through the gates into the main courtyard of Paradise Falls.

It had changed since he had last been here, years ago. There were more lights, for one, hanging from wires that criss-crossed between the buildings, hung loosely over the courtyard. Slavers nodded to him as he passed, or told him to move along, or told him even more colourful things, but he ignored them all. He did notice that there were more young faces than he remembered, and more faces in general. Had Eulogy been recruiting?

He stopped when he was just in front of Eulogy's house, a huge building that had formerly been a cinema before the war. A large sign with the word 'CINEMA' on it rose over the door, heading straight up the building and reaching towards the sky. Further up, much to Leon's disgust, he could see a cage hanging from a winch, a rotting corpse contained inside, the whole contraption creaking slightly as the wind brushed over it.

Resisting the shiver that ran down his spine, he took a deep breath and strode through the double doors.

The inside had lost much of its appeal over the some 200 years since it was built. The paint, once probably a vibrant white, was now more of a puke cream colour, even peeling in some spots. The ground had a few remains of the red, velvet carpet, but the rest was gone; either pulled up or rotted away.

Eulogy was smiling as Leon entered, wearing his usual faded red suit, a purple shirt underneath. His dark skin stretched tightly over a lithe body. He moved with grace and elegance, a man completely out of his time; he could have stepped into the Old World and nobody would so much as bat an eye.

"Leon! It's been too long," he said happily, a glass of alcohol sloshing gently in his hand. "Care for a drink?"

"It's not that wasteland piss, is it?"

"No, no. I save the best for my special guests," Eulogy answered, producing a bottle of Pre-War rum from behind his back. Leon nodded casually and Eulogy moved over to a small counter, pulling out another glass for Leon, before moving into the next room.

Leon followed, walking into what was clearly Eulogy's bedroom. An over-the-top heart shaped bed dominated the room, its red silk sheets surprisingly clean. There were a few seats scattered around, all bolted to the floor, the remains of the cinema. A few tattered remnants of canvas hung from the far wall. There was also several waist-high book cases filled with various knick-knacks; trinkets, books, lamps, photos and the like.

"Here," Eulogy said, passing the half full glass to Leon. Leon reached for it and realised his hand was shaking. He hadn't had a drink since he had left Megaton 2 days ago and felt mildly ashamed at the desperation he felt staring at the glass of alcohol. It took all of his will power not to down it in one go.

"So, what brings you to Paradise Falls?" Eulogy asked.

"I'm here to buy a slave," Leon answered, taking another sip of his drink.

Eulogy coughed out a small laugh, a smile across his face, but it disappeared when he saw Leon was serious.

"You? Buy a slave? I don't believe it," he scoffed.

"I'm a different man than I used to be," answered Leon absently.

"You made that much clear when you left us last time," Eulogy muttered. "Tell me, what are you looking for?"

"Someone to clean my house."

"A butler?"

"A maid"

"Ah," Eulogy hummed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "an attractive one, I assume?"

"Yes," Leon answered, taking another sip of the whiskey. He frowned and looked down at it. There was still half of it left, but it was already starting to sway in his hand.

"A blonde?" Eulogy continued. Leon looked up at him, the frown still on his face. He saw the dark skinned man's alcohol was untouched. "Thought so..." he added, the smile fully formed now.

"What the hell is this?" Leon asked, straining not to slur his words.

"A week ago a few scabs come and sell me an attractive young blonde. I swindle them easily, but they're still grinning like idiots when they leave. A couple of days after that they wind up dead...and in possession of an untouched suit of Power Armour," Eulogy said. He moved across to one of the bookcases, pulled out another glass and bottle, poured himself a new drink and took a mouthful of the dark liquid with a satisfied sigh. "So now you're here, asking for an attractive blonde. You, the Lone Wanderer, trying to buy a sex slave? It doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together."

"You're a business man," Leon started, shaking his head to try and get rid of the growing fuzz around his brain, "and I brought caps. Lots of caps..."

Eulogy laughed, genuinely. "You are right, I am a business man. But I make sure to never let business get in front of being a man," he said. He stepped forward, the smile gone, replaced with a hard scowl. "The way you left last time...I ought to cut you down right now."

"Do it," Leon spat, as defiantly as he could. "Fawkes and Charon are just waiting for an excuse..."

"The super mutant and ghoul? I think not, Leon. I happen to know your little freak show is in DC, along with the rest of their kind. No, you're all alone here, aren't you?"

Leon hawked and spat, his whiskey coloured phlegm landing with a satisfying splat on Eulogy's pristine shoes.

"Then what are you waiting for?" he asked coldly.

Eulogy looked down at his shoes, clucked his tongue disapprovingly, and lashed out with a backhand that sent Leon sprawling to the ground. At the sound of his body hitting the floor, Leon saw a man rush into the room.

He was heavily tanned, with a dull brown moustache that stretched across his upper lip before falling down the sides of his mouth, eventually disappearing under his chin. His head was roughly shaved, stubble having already started growing back, except for the small Mohawk that ran down the middle of his scalp. He gave a menacing look to Leon, still trying to pick himself off the floor, then over to Eulogy, who was shaking his head at the spit still on his shoe.

"Everything alright?" the man grunted.

"Yes, Forty," answered Eulogy dismissively. "Everything is fine."

Forty stood there for a moment. He was holding an assault rifle, a filthy, half rusted but still menacing one, in both hands, and his fingers flexed, tightening his grip. He didn't look like he knew whether Eulogy was being serious or sarcastic. After another moment of thinking he shrugged, turned and strode from the room.

Eulogy sighed. "So hard to find good help..." he mused.

"Why?" Leon managed to ask, after finally propping himself up on one arm.

"Why?" Eulogy turned to look at him, a confused look on his face. "Because, Leon, I just don't fucking like you. And besides, I already have a buyer for the blonde."

Leon narrowed his eyes, looking as menacing as he could propped up on one arm and lying on the ground.

"You hurt her..." he started.

"What? The Brotherhood will send another washed up drunk after her? Ha!" Eulogy snorted. "No, nothing's going to happen to me Leon. Nothing but a big pay day."

"Then you should kill me now," Leon grunted. "If you're smart."

"I am smart, Leon, I truly am. See, the Brotherhood is one thing; nobody outside of their own cares what happens to one of them. But you? The precious Lone Wanderer? Even in your pathetic state, I imagine your corpse would bring everything with a fucking pulse out looking for my head. No, you'll live. You'll have one hell of a hangover...but I'm guessing you're used to that," Eulogy added with a malicious grin. "Forty!" he called, and the man from before entered again. "Dump this piece of shit in a ditch somewhere," he said, waving his hand dismissively at Leon.

Forty was smiling. "You want me to deal with him?"

"Deal with him? No, I do not want you to fucking deal with him," Eulogy snapped. Forty didn't stop smiling. "I mean it Forty. You better not come back here as Forty-One or you'll remain at forty-one. Got that?"

"Yeah," Forty grunted, the disappointment clearly in his voice.

"I'm coming back," Leon said defiantly.

Eulogy smiled, picked up his glass of whiskey, downed the rest of it in one go and grabbed the bottle to wave in Leon's face. "Bring your own next time then, huh?"

Something hit Leon in the back of the head with a loud crack. Everything went black before he hit the floor.

Leon vaulted up the stairs, taking them two, three and sometimes even four at a time, using his arms to pull himself up the railings that ran along the walls. The walls, several marked with bullet marks, flashed by him in a blur and he quickly ascended the three levels to the Atrium. The sound of gunfire had lessened in frequency, but the higher he got the louder the remaining noise become.

He reached the closed door leading to the Atrium. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving in and out as he sucked in deep breath after deep breath. He took a few moments to try and calm himself, to slow his breathing and his rapidly beating heart, and then reached over to push the button next to the door and it hissed open.

Right in front of him was a body, lying in a pool of already drying blood. Leon didn't recognize who it was, but they were wearing the traditional Vault 101 full body maintenance uniform, so probably one of the mechanics from the lower level. Leon could see their skin was already pale and a baseball bat lay in the pool of blood, covered with the thick, crimson liquid almost completely on the underside. Leon flexed his fingers around the pistol grip again, half to make sure he wouldn't drop it, half to just make sure it was still there. It had started to feel like it wasn't there at all, as if it were an extension of his body.

Someone started talking from across the Atrium and Leon ducked back in through the door, crouched down and peered around the edge to see what was happening.

The Atrium looked like it always had; a large hall, with two balconies above that connected several rooms on the second floor looking down. There weren't any noticeable signs of battle, no bullet marks, no blood stains, except, of course, for the body lying less than a metre in front of Leon.

Across the hall from him he saw two others Vault dwellers, Tom and Mary Holden, two middle aged Vault residents that lived a few compartments down from Leon and his father. They were hunched over just on the other side of a door across the Atrium from Leon, both wearing Vault overalls, Mary's dark hair brushed to the side, one lock framing the right side of her face.

Tom was animated and, while he couldn't hear what the man was saying, Leon could see Mary didn't agree with him. Tom waved angrily at his wife, stood and strode out into the Atrium. Mary hissed at him to come back, but he ignored here.

He was heading to the far wall of the Atrium, where an entrance was being guarded by two security guards, one slightly rounded at the waist, the other tall and wiry. Leon didn't know either of them by name. Both were wearing the standard Vault security armour and each had a pistol in hand.

"My name is Tom Holden and I demand to be allowed to leave!" Tom shouted loudly at the guards. Neither moved. "I said-"

Tom was cut off as the wiry guard fired, the bullet taking him high in the chest. The rounder man fired next, twice, both bullets thudding into Tom's sternum and knocking the man on his back. He gurgled for a moment, air bubbling from the blood pouring out of his mouth, before he stopped. Mary shrieked, a haunting sound that Leon had never since forgotten, and rushed out to be with her husband. She barely made it half way to him before the two guards gunned her down as well.

She landed heavily, sliding slightly across the floor, and with her last energy reached out her hand towards her husband. She died before reaching him.

The wiry man suddenly chuckled. "And here I thought we weren't going to have any fun," he said to his companion, who nodded his agreement, adding a slight smile to his face.

Leon's grip tightened on the pistol, so tight he momentarily thought it would break. His teeth ground, so loud he wondered whether the guards could hear it. His heart was beating rhythmically, slowly, mechanically, a tightness beginning to constrict it. His vision wavered slightly, then it all happened.

The guards turned around at a noise behind them, a Radroach having crawled out of a vent in the wall to their right.

"Damn these things," the round one snapped, stepping forward to squash it underneath his foot.

Leon was on his feet before he realised what was happening. He seemed to fly across the Atrium, above it, detached from his body and the world. He heard himself roar and both guards turned at once. The baseball bat that he must have unconsciously picked up, still covered in blood, flew out of his hand. It wasn't a good throw but, at this distance, it didn't have to be.

It hit the wiry guard in the face, breaking the plastic visor attached to his helmet and breaking his nose with a crunch, as well as sending shards of plastic into his eyes. He howled and clutched his face, falling to his knees.

Before he had even hit the ground, Leon's hand shot up, pointing at the round man and he pulled the trigger on his pistol. It bucked once, twice. The first bullet struck the round man in the chest, the armour absorbing most of the damage. The second was higher, the recoil from the first having pushed the barrel upwards, and it sliced through his neck, sending out a spray of blood across the wall behind him. He collapsed against that wall with a surprised gurgle, clutching at his throat in a useless attempt to stop the blood gushing from his wound as he slid to the floor.

"My eyes!" the wiry one howled, his hands clutching his face. Leon stepped in front of him, his hand lowering until the barrel was in line with the man's skull. His hand bucked once, the bullet entering the man's head and bouncing around the bulletproof helmet, turning his face into a red pulp. He keeled over, dead.

Leon lowered the pistol slowly, looked around at the bodies, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His heart was still pounding, rhythmically, mechanically. He took another breath, felt the tightness lessen and then he opened his eyes.

"My god," he whispered. His eyes ran over the two security guards, the round one still gurgling as he died slowly, then down to the pistol in his hands and the blood covering his clothes. "What have I done?"

That was the first time Leon ever killed a man. It would not be the last.