To note: Those of you who assume I am basing the Umpire off of Mr. House from New Vegas, you are very wrong. I began this fanfiction before New Vegas was even announced. Still, it's nice to know that great minds think alike.
Now, as always, enjoy the new chapter! Read and review and critique!
PS: I'm looking for a beta. Anyone interested, send me a PM and we can get to know each other.
"…and finally, there seem to be issues with the local power-station. Raw Border has been getting more brownouts this month than before, and we can't raise the crew who keeps the node running. Anyone willing to investigate come to me for an advance payment of 200 caps. Returning with the status of the crew nets a payment of 300 more caps. Anyone who can fix whatever the hell is wrong with the station itself will net 600 more beyond that."
Derek cleared his throat and prepared for the next portion of his speech. "Well, now we come to the bounties of the week. This week we feature a clever little group of ghouls who fancy themselves creature tamers. They've been using ferals to raid caravans to keep us off their trail. But an anonymous source has tipped us off to the truth. Clear out the feral ghoul pack that they run with and you get 120 caps. Apparently there are 6 of them: mostly glowing ones and reavers. The three who are running them are worth 200 apiece. That's all for now. Don't die on me Sin'Nati,"
Derek set the microphone down and stepped away from the console. Turning, he noticed Charlotte leaning against the wall next to the elevator. She was smiling at him. He returned the expression, though he was concerned about how she had made it up to the radio booth. Not just anyone was allowed up here, and she was a prisoner beyond that. Still, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Gripping his crowbar a little tighter, he approached he approached her in an otherwise calm and collected manner. "Adventurous are we?" he inquired, depressing the down button on the access panel and leaning against the elevator doors next to her.
Her smile didn't disappear as she eyed the lower half of his body. He assumed she was watching the crowbar in his hand, but one never knew. "I was just curious," she explained in a completely innocent voice.
"Curious?" he asked, wondering in spite of himself.
"How does a… boy such as yourself come to be in charge of such a formidable organization?" she pressed.
The elevator dinged, and they both stepped in. Derek chose the floor where Charlotte was supposed to be held, and the mechanical apparatus groaned as it began to lower them. He turned and regarded his companion critically. "A prisoner doesn't endear herself to her captors by asking for sensitive information," he informed her.
"Oh, so it is sensitive!" she gloated, pleased to know that bit of information. "Now I'm even more interested!"
Derek rolled his eyes. "Clever girl. Now stop talking before I decide to punish you for being out of your cell."
Charlotte pouted. "But it's so lonesome in there!" she complained in a pleading voice, purposefully leaning towards him suggestively. "I could certainly use some… company." One of her hands reached forward to brush his chest.
He sighed and caught her hand at the wrist, pushing her back against the opposite wall. She looked at him, eyes wide with some emotion. Pain? Surprise? He wasn't sure, and it didn't much matter. "Don't," he warned her in a tone that brooked no argument. The tension lasted another moment, then the doors slid open. Derek stepped out without turning to see if Charlotte would follow. She did anyways.
"You still haven't answered my question," she murmured as they walked down the hall.
He sighed and turned to face her. His expression was solemn, and his tone admonishing. "Even my closest allies have no idea where I come from, where my father comes from. Why on this forsaken earth should I tell you?"
"I'll tell you a secret in return," she promised in a quiet voice. He was surprised to find that there were tears swimming in her eyes.
Derek stepped forward and took her hand. "Look," he said, staring into her eyes. "I can't tell you much. Not without betraying some very important people and putting a lot of well laid plans in jeopardy." Still holding her hand, he led her back to the room she was using as her cell. It had a bed and a radio, a chair, a window that was far too high to jump out of, and little else. He sat in the chair, and she sat on the bed facing him.
He heaved a very deep, emotional sigh. "I'll start at the beginning."
Long ago, before the earth was bathed in fire, thousands of Americans retreated into a network of vast underground vaults in order to escape what was to come. What wasn't known to the public, however, was that the Vaults also served as field testing sites for various projects undertaken by the government. Deep within Vault 706, for instance, a very dangerous experiment was taking place. Four children of the same age were chosen as the subjects for a host of chemical injections, all to create what was called the "perfect man." Different from the FEV virus, which was supposed to be mass produced for the armed forces, these experiments were meant for a select few to "overcome limitations set upon them by mere evolution," as the head scientist put it.
One the bombs hit, the vault doors were sealed, and the experiments could proceed without the distractions of outside interference. Four serums were developed, based on the slightly abnormal genetic material the children themselves already possessed. Speed, perception, strength, and regeneration, all were harnessed deep beneath the burning sky above. Each child was given one prototype, and gene projections showed miraculous success. Then the next step came.
A single distillation of the four serums was created. Within it contained the raw material to bring a perfect man into being. But there wasn't enough for all of the occupants of the vault to become a god. To make more would require time and resources no one could spare. Everyone decided they wanted to become perfection, and no one wished to sacrifice their claim for the sake of peace. And so the war continued into Vault 706 decades after it had ended in the world above. The last surviving occupants of the Vault were the four children, unaware of the fighting that had gone on around them. They remained in stasis, perfectly preserved for the next 200 years.
An enterprising tribal had somehow procured the password to Vault 706 and had entered alone. Inside, he had discovered not only the signs of carnage that had taken place, but also the research notes of the scientists there. Realizing what he had discovered, the tribal searched madly for the serum, desperate to claim perfection as his own. And finally, decades after it had been created, the serum fell into the hands of a single, determined tribal. He administered it with the help of the research notes he had discovered, and a god was born, far beneath the earth.
However, his most valuable prize had been the four children, perfectly preserved by the vault's computer. He brought them back into the world and took them out of the vault with him. He traveled far to the north, his newfound abilities proving highly useful in the wastes as he fended for all five of them. As they grew, he was happy to see that the gene projections had not been wrong. Each child had shown remarkable skill. He suspected, based on what he could observe, that they even surpassed him. Whether it was because the combination of all four concoctions had made them less potent, or the fact that their bodies were 200 years more used to the serum than his was, or any number of other reasons, he wasn't entirely sure.
Eventually, they made it to a burgeoning settlement set in an old baseball stadium. The ruler of this place quickly noticed the remarkable man and his children, by now young men. Eventually, he asked to see them. They went willingly, and at his inquiry had, in the privacy of his chambers, displayed their amazing abilities before him.
"Work with me," he implored them. "Let me put your powers to use for the good of whatever humanity has left in these wastes." The man agreed, and he and his children moved north, into the decaying ruins of Cincinnati with a host of guards behind them. With the group's remarkable strength, they cleared roads with ease. With their perception, they spotted snipers and ambushes well in advance, saving valuable men. With their speed, they could lure the wildlife into traps, avoiding more needless death. And with their regeneration, they were unafraid of radiation, and could cross through subways, sewers, and other toxic areas to find other ways across for their followers.
Their army stood in awe of these abilities, and fought all the harder to clear what was left of the city of its filth. They chose to live in Carew Tower for its remarkably intact structure, vantage point over the rest of the city, and its radio tower. They put out the message from this tower as far away as Maryland, Tenessee, Illinois, Pennsylvania, and Canada. "Come to Sin'Nati," they called. "Help us defend the Raw Border against its enemies. Help us prop humanity up before it destroys itself utterly."
They came. Hundreds of them, came across the nuclear desert to the north, the raider gangs to the east and west, and the sick, bleeding Ohio to the south. "We will help you," they said. "We do not wish to see humanity fall." And under the powerful man and his four powerful children, a new bastion of civilization was formed. Sadly, even civilized man has his flaws.
A woman, remarkable as the five who stood atop the Raw Border for her beauty, insinuated himself with them. For a time, all was well. The man's children adored their new mother. And she adored them as well, and raised them as her own, as their father did. But one day, she asked him how all of this had come about. So he told her, believing his secret would be well guarded and kept safe by the woman he loved dearly. Sadly, the serum still held its power over men, used as it was. The woman grew jealous of her lover's abilities and desired them for her own. The man she could not have, he was certain of his mission. She watched the children then, waiting for a weakness to exploit. She was certain, as their father was, that they would surpass him. And one day, her opportunity came.
A day came, as such days often do in parenthood, when the father had to discipline one of his children. The offense committed is long forgotten, the punishment given fair and justified. But stubborn children will be stubborn. This child clung to the belief that he had been wronged for a bit longer than normal, and this was when the mother pounced, like a deathclaw matron on her unsuspecting prey. She showed her exemplary powers in another fashion: the words she used were toxic, poisonous, intended to corrupt the child's soul and turn him away from his father and siblings.
Slowly, little by little, the young man changed. He saw every gift his father gave to one of his siblings as showing whom he favored, he saw every service they performed as subverting his own standing, and he saw his mother as the only one besides him who knew the truth. His father tried to reach him, but to no avail. The poison had claimed him. Finally, the day came when the mother fled the Raw Border with her prize in tow. His siblings were devastated, and the group was fractured beyond repair. Two of the siblings found a friend in an old man who knew their father well. He trusted this man as much as he trusted his left hand, and told them they were safe with him. The old man took his children away from the Raw Border, determined to have them continue doing good without the risk of betrayal.
Only one child stayed with his father. One, of the four he had loved more dearly than his own self, still remained. He wanted to stay and help his father through the loss of his other children, wanted to continue to hold the line against extinction. His father was grateful, and never forgot the determination of his last-remaining son.
Finished telling his story, Derek leaned back against the wall. It had been a long time since he had recanted the facts for anyone, even himself. It felt odd to think of himself as over 200 years old, but it wasn't like he could change his circumstances. On the bed, Charlotte was silent as she processed his story. "Well?" he asked. "Glad you know where I came from?"
She didn't acknowledge him for several moments. Finally she asked "What can you do?" in a small voice.
Derek clenched his fist tightly. He didn't like showcasing his powers: too much room for speculation, accusations, and jealous ignorance. Still, the fact that she knew what he was, and that they were in private, meant there wasn't much risk to revealing himself. Instead of just telling her, he stood and walked to the door. Opening it slowly, he slipped his hand into the threshold. Taking a moment to steady himself, he slammed the door onto his hand, shattering the bone and pulverizing the muscle. Charlotte cried out behind him, and rushed to pull him back from the door before he could hurt himself further.
"Calm down," Derek said calmly, though the pain was evident in his voice. She took his hand and and began examining the damage. But before her eyes, it was repairing itself. The crushed muscle seemed to be expanding back into its original shape. Beneath her hands, she felt the bone knitting back together, and soon Derek's smashed hand was completely healed. "I've been smashed up more times than I care to remember," he explained matter-of-factly. "Just like using a muscle more often makes it stronger, my body can heal these kinds of things easily."
"So the reason your arms healed more slowly is…" she said, trying to puzzle it out for herself.
"I'm not very well acquainted with puncture wounds, like getting shot. So yes, the next time I get shot I'll probably heal even faster," he explained for her. After the fighting at the theater in Mt. Adams, his arms had been fine in about two days.
"What about radiation?" she asked.
"Well I take showers every morning. I guess you could say radiation doesn't really affect me at all."
Charlotte nodded. That made sense. Since his cells regenerated rapidly anyways, there was no risk of cancer. "So… how are you stronger than your father? I mean, with regeneration?" She broached the subject carefully, wondering if he was sensitive about the man who had rescued them.
Derek sat back down in the chair and didn't look at her. "Neither of us can die," he confessed, in a subdued tone. It was obvious he had thought about this a long time. "Age, that is, wrinkles, brittle bones, bad eyesight, etc. is caused by a breakdown of the DNA in your cells. Before the war, scientists theorized that this had to do with the loss of your neurons, or brain cells. So, either my DNA is repairing itself, or my brain cells can replicate where most people's simply die off. Whatever the reason, I stopped aging five years ago."
Charlotte was simply speechless. This… boy, creation, monstrous- no, he wasn't a monster. But whatever he was, he had certainly broken the very laws of nature his creators had set out to dismantle. In an awestruck voice she pressed on. "And your father?"
He shrugged. "He's stopped at thirty or so. Time can't move backwards, but he stopped getting older the moment he injected himself with the serum."
"You haven't answered my question though," she continued. "How are you stronger? I can see how your brothers could be faster, more perceptive, and stronger, but how does your ability give you the edge?"
The 'young' man stood up again and regarded her carefully. "You're much too curious for your own good," he stated bluntly. "Why should I tell you this?"
"Why not?" she retorted, a little defensive. "You've told me everything else. Why stop?"
Derek nodded slowly. This was very true. "All right, I'll tell you." He sat back into the chair and looked up at her, resolution in his eyes. "Remember what I said about using a muscle and it getting stronger?" When she nodded, he continued, "well the same is true for bones, skin, and other tissue. Even parts of the brain increase in size or density when they're used more frequently." Charlotte continued nodding, following so far. "When my father heals, his tissue repairs itself to the exact standard it was before. But when I regenerate…" here he hesitated, but only for a moment, "I get stronger every time."
Charlotte gulped, unsure of the exact implications of what she had just heard. "What do you mean, exactly?"
Derek suddenly became very excited. He wanted to tell her what he could do, if only to be understood, and not judged. He began speaking rapidly, his sentences flowing un-beckoned from deep within. "It's more than just being able to heal faster from a gunshot. Next time, the bullet won't penetrate nearly as far, because the muscle and skin will thicken. My lungs have repaired so much damage from radioactive air, I can run a six mile sprint and still be breathing evenly. And every time I walk, or move, thousands of skin and muscle cells are replaced by stronger, more resilient ones. Even my showers in the morning have given me an immunity to cancer, or the tumor cells are now part of the healing process because they replicate so fast."
Charlotte listened to his explanations silently. "And… is there a limit to this?" she murmured, breaking him off in the middle of his excited rambling.
"Oh yes, of course," Derek responded, his tone suddenly more controlled, more calm. "My body knows what works and what doesn't. I can only have skin and bones become so dense before it does more harm than good to simply move. And my muscles don't want to break my bones with every contraction. It's always a balance of forces, just like a regular body."
Charlotte nodded for what felt like the thousandth time, accepting this information, along with everything else he had revealed. "Thank you… for telling me," she said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.
"So what happens now?" he asked her. His gaze became piercing, as he waited to see if her response would be truthful.
"I… won't tell anyone," she promised. "Of that you have my word."
Derek saw no untruth in her, and he smiled to show his appreciation. "And where will you go?"
"Do I have to go anywhere?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "Are you making me leave?"
He held up his hands to console her. "Of course not. Stay as long as you wish."
The relief was plain on her face. Odd, she had seemed to independent and strong earlier. Now, it seemed that he could break her in two with a snap of his fingers. "Thank you…" she breathed.
"Well, what's your secret?" he asked. He was suddenly eager to hear more about the woman he had just revealed more to than anyone else.
"O-oh… my secret?" she asked, sounding like she had just been awoken from a dream.
"Ye-es…" he replied, a hint of sarcasm sneaking into his voice. "The one you said you'd tell me."
Charlotte gulped, then looked at the door. Her expression said she wished dearly to be somewhere else, anywhere else, but where she was. This went on for several long, awkward moments. "Okay…" she said finally, sounding like she had resolved herself to some fate. "The truth is…" she muttered, not looking at him. "The truth is, I'm a spy."