CHAPTER II

Janus took a step back, puzzled. His curiosity was getting the best of him, he realized. Or was it? The promises it made...Vault 89...technology...power. It couldn't hurt, could it? To find the Vault? He could make the Stans the most powerful tribe in The Van. They would venerate him. They would love him. They would follow him.

user_janus_1.23.2277 Fair enough.

He did as he was told, taking the USB coil and attaching it into the terminal. He looked at his Pip-Boy screen, which was shimmering with the influx of data. The massive terminal in the center of the room was literally shaking as it copied it's information onto his device, and sparks were flying from the generators. Janus feared for his own safety as the place seemed to destroy itself. But in a minute it was all over. He looked down at his Pip-Boy, which had switched colors from green to the same shade of light blue that had been on the computer screen. Interesting, he thought.

"Hey, Janus, everything okay?" A voice came from outside. It was Strabo, definitely. "Seems you shook some shit up in there."

"Na, it's fine," he said. He considered telling Strabo about the computer, about the Vault, but decided against it. Instead, he did something he wasn't accustomed to. He lied. "The Blazers had some sort of recharge station in here, for their weapons," he said, "But I tried to use it and it pretty much self-destructed."

Strabo walked in to the tent, and whistled. "Holy shit, Janus. Remind me never to let you touch my stuff."

He laughed, and turned to face his friend, walking out of the tent. Outside his men had assembled a pile of weapons and other valuables that they were going to take back to Stanley. A group of a dozen prisoners lay hog tied nearby, under guard by a quartet of heavily-armed Stans. His men were still looking for anything of use that they could bring back to Stanley. Janus considered destroying the stadium, but he doubted they had enough explosives, and those they did "Load up all the loot on that truck," he ordered, and his men immediately followed his command. "What did we get?"

"Twenty-three laser rifles," the self-proclaimed Quartermaster told him, "Ten plasma rifles, five Flamers, and almost fifty plasma and laser pistols. We also found a plasma caster and a box of grenades, as well as thousands of microfusion and energy cells, three full sets of combat armor...We haven't had a loot like this in ages, Janus. It's good. Very good."

"Imagine the look on the Provost's face when he sees this," Strabo said, shaking his head. The Provost was the official leader of Stanley. He had formed the community, led the community, and the sole executive of the community. He was nearly two-hundred years old, and had been around since before the Great War. The radiation that had killed so many others had actually saved him - though his skin and hair was peeling, and his voice coarse, the radiation had kept him alive for all this time. He had a name, Janus was sure, but he went by the Provost. "We'll be on his good side for sure."

The drive through back to Stanley was a long one, having to drive slow as so their escorts (on foot) could stay close. They weren't going to risk loosing all this gear that they had fought so hard to obtain to some opportunistic raiders waiting along the roads. When they did arrive at the causeway leading to Stanley, the two gatekeepers looked on in awe. Even Janus had to admit, hauling with them a truck full of captured weapons, surrounded by rifle-bearing troopers, they were an impressive sight. Stanley's main gate was built from scavenged metal, which was attached to a horizontal pulley system that could open and close the gate with ease. Around the entire length of the city's limits, cars had been piled up to from walls, and behind them wooden ramparts and scaffolds allowed for guards to walk it's length. The town itself was rather beautiful as compared to many wasteland towns. Stanley had originally been a wooded area just outside of downtown Vancouver, and they had used the trees to build log houses, which were fortified with scavenged metal. At the center of the city lay the Municipal House, a large three-story building that served as the head of Stanley's government, and in front of it the city square, were merchants commonly set up tents to barter.

As the truck rolled down the main road, and into the square, citizens of Stanley came out of their huts and cheered. Janus pulled the vehicle to a stop in front of the main square and opened the door, only to be surrounded by children as they rushed to greet him. He smiled and let them do their thing, looking into the forming crowd for the one person he wanted to see more than anyone. His eyes scanned the populace, before laying rest on a black-haired woman with a slightly freckled face. "Katrina!" He yelled over the noise. "Katrina, over here!"

He dispersed the children and ran to her, despite the pain in his ankle, just as she noticed his arrival. His wife sprinted to meet him, and she crashed into Janus' open arms, pressing herself against his chest. He embraced her and held her close, kissing her head before simply pressing his against hers. "I was so worried about you," she said, fighting back tears. "I thought...I thought you lost forever."

"I'm here, I'm here, he assured her, rocking Katrina in his arms. Only then did it occur to him that the computer had been correct. How did it know? he thought, still holding his wife close. How...is it possible?

"Now, now," a rough but compassionate voice said, from the direction of Municipal House. He turned to see the Provost walking towards him and his men. The Provost wore a faded, patchwork jumpsuit, with an assault rifle slung across his back and a decorative sword at his hip. An officer's cap from a country no longer in existence covered his balding head. "Janus. Strabo. I trust you were successful in you exploits?"

"Yes, sir." Janus replied. "We have attacked and destroyed the Blazer's base of operations. Any that were not killed are scattered, and will not present any more threats to Stanley. In addition we recovered hundreds of weapons and valuables from the Stadium to add to our arsenal."

"Our heroes, then, indeed," The Provost said. "Tonight," he said, his voice roaring across the square. "We will celebrate the victory. I believe a feast is in order!" Unanimous cheering rang through the city. It was to be a fantastic night indeed.

==Later kinda==

Janus' home was one he had built with his own hands. It was a two room home, with just a bedroom and a kitchen/dining area, but he was proud of it. The wood and metal structure kept them warm, comfortable, and secure. He couldn't have asked for anything more. "Promise me you will never go out like that again," Katrina told him, as she brought a bowl of warm stew. Janus was just in the process of taking his boot off his foot, and sighed in pain when it came off, revealing a nasty wound that had swollen considerably. "You know I can't promise that, babe. It's my job. I have to go out, to protect Stanley. To protect you," he said. Janus retrieved his knife from his pack, and brought his foot closer, cutting out a few black blisters that had formed after wearing his boots for a week straight.

"Yes, but...there has to be another way. Look what happened to you,"" she said, "You've probably contracted Chag's or something!"

He shivered at the thought. Chag's Disease was a virus that attacked the host's mind, slowly eating away at their brains and muscles until they were so weak, frail, and in some cases insane that they usually succumbed to other diseases. It had evolved from an autoimmune disease that was present in society even before the Great War, but had mutated, according to most, because to the omnipresent radiation. It could be passed from host to victim in almost any way possible - sexually, from insect bites, coughing, and even from dirty water.

"Well, I haven't gone crazy. Your probably safe."

"That's not my point," she corrected him.

Janus sighed. "I guess I see where your coming from."

Her expression changed into one of sympathy as she walked over to the bed and sat down next to Janus, leaning up against him. "I know it's your life. But in marrying me, you made your life my life. I...I don't know what I'd do without you, Janus, and...I mean, it's just..." Janus interrupted her by planting a deep kiss on her lips, which she readily accepted, and adjusted her position to sit on his lap. Janus leaned back, and turned her over, kissing her neck as she fumbled with his belt and pants. Their hands fought eachother as they fumbled around bodies neither of them had felt in weeks but were so desperate to rediscover...

...two hours later, Janus awoke, naked, next to his wife. She had curled up around him, either for warmth, or for intimacy, or maybe both. Either way, when Janus looked at his Pip-Boy, which laid on the bedstand, the clock read 20:22. He had less than half an hour before he was supposed to be at the feast. He would have been perfectly content with staying home, with Katrina, but with the importance of the event, not to mention that it was being thrown in honor of him and Strabo's exploits, he felt like attendance was mandatory.

"Hey, honey." His wife said, stirred awake by her husband's movements. "Is it that time?"

"Yep," he said, cracking his back and moaning because of the relief it brought. He picked his reinforced leather clothes off the floor and smelled them. No, he couldn't go to the feast in that. Instead he put on a thermal shirt (his only spare), some black denim jeans, and because of the weather threw on a thick black longcoat over it all. He then affixed his beret (given to all members of Stanley's militia) and affixed his a leg holster for his .45 Auto. He wouldn't need it, but members of the militia were required to be armed at all times, just in case.

Katrina picked one of her dresses, one that pre-war would have been semi-formal, but now it was, like all their clothes, patchwork. Nonetheless, Janus complimented her on their way out the door. "You look great, honey. Now c'mon, before they start a witch hunt for us or something."

She smiled and took his arm, and the two walked out into the torchlit streets, as music pervaded through the night. Already in the main square the town's populace was gathered, dancing, drinking, and eating as the stores were opened up and food spilled forth. He privately hoped the feast wouldn't be too taxing on their grain and food reserves - winter was bad enough, and the harvest hadn't been great in any sense of the word. But tonight, he reminded himself, wasn't about worrying for the future. It was about celebrating the past.

"Janus! My man," Strabo said, clearly already a bit woozy. "Come over here! Have a drink!"

"In a minute, Strabo, in a minute." Quickly his friend lost interest, and instead focused on one of the two beautiful ladies at his side, who were clearly even more tipsy than him. Knowing Strabo, Janus guessed he would take one - or both - home tonight. Katrina ran off to see her own friends, and Janus found himself awkwardly alone. He shifted around, enjoying the music, downing a beer, and was eating what had to be the greatest steak in his life when he was interrupted. "Mind if I sit?" The Provost said, and Janus nearly choked. "I...of course, sir."

"No need for formalities here, Janus," he replied, taking a seat and sighing at the relief. "I just wanted to say how thankful we all are. Stanley is safe once again, thanks to you."

"It's my duty, sir."

"No, no," he said. "It wasn't. You know damn well that an offensive against the Blazers was risky. Your job was to defend our borders, and instead you went above and beyond, taking out the threat at it's source. Not to mention that brilliant stunt you pulled, splitting your forces. That diversion...nothing short of genius. A Hannibal, I tell you!"

"Excuse me...a Hannibal?" Janus asked, confused.

"Oh, that's right," the Provost said. "Reminds me sometimes just how old I am, remembering history like that. Anyway, Hannibal was an ancient military commander. He almost conquered the most powerful nation in history...they couldn't match him on the battlefield. He destroyed every single army they sent against him. He was a tactical genius, but unfortunately also a strategic flounder."

"How so?"

"He never marched on the enemy capital. While he could defeat any army, he couldn't exploit his victories. In the end, war is a game of strategy, not tactics. And when he tried his hand in politics, he got the same result - unfortunately being betrayed by those closest to him. A tragic end to a great story. I've learned a lot in these years, Janus, and built Stanley from the ground up..."

"What are you getting at?" he said, intrigued and fairly sure were the conversation was headed.

"Janus, I've been in this game a long while. But it's time I pass the stick to someone else."

Janus' heart raced as the Provost continued. "Your a fantastic leader, Janus. And an even better commander. Your faithful to your cause, to the death, and as a military tactician second to none. I wanted to thank you for all these years, Janus, and wish you the best. I'm sure you will serve my successor with the same vigor and loyalty as you did me."

Janus heart skipped a beat. Wait...what?

"Tonight I will announce the new leader of Stanley," he said. "My son, Mason, will take my place at the head of the town. He is a capable leader, but with much to learn. I have no doubt he will do a wonderful job as Stanley's administrator."

The Provost put his hand on Janus' back and stood up. "It has been an honor, Janus, truly. Semper fi,"

"Do or die," he reiterated, from the militia's oath of allegiance. "I...don't know what to say, sir. Thanks for all these years." His head was spinning, out of control. Everything was suddenly a blur. He had honestly thought that the Provost would pass the torch to him...and now...emotions span. Anger. Frustration. Confusion...everything he could feel at once. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at his plate. The steak he had thought was the best one ever now didn't appeal to him. He was simply too lost in his own mind to have an appetite.

"Attention, attention, please," The Provost said, through a microphone, some time later. A small wooden stage and podium in front of the Municipal House had been set up for him, so that everyone in the square could see. "Today, we celebrate the defeat of our mortal enemies, the Blazers."

The crowd went wild for a short minute, before the Provost held us his hand and all became silent once more. "But we also celebrate the men who made this happen. Without the efforts of our two fantastic military leaders, Strabo and Janus, none of this would have been possible. They have liberated this town of a great burden, and ended a great conflict, and I cannot express my thanks enough. To the Stanley Militia!" he said, holding up a glass of wine. He wouldn't drink it (it was impossible, with the deterioration of his organs), but the effect was all the same.

The crowd exploded into cheers once more, and once again the Provost was forced to silence them. Janus looked on, expressionless and dispassionate about the whole ordeal.

"However I have another announcement to make," he said. "I've been alive for two hundred years, and built this town fifty years ago. But it is time, I believe, as every leader must do, to pass the torch, to let a younger generation and it's ideas take ahold of our city. My son, Mason, will be taking over control of Stanley. The transition will be slow, and it will take a few weeks before I let go fully, but as of tonight, I am stepping down from my position."

Silence.

"I realize this is a big change. I promise you, I will see to it that it goes as smooth as possible. You shouldn't notice any change in your daily lives; Mason is a good man, and he will be a fantastic leader, I'm sure."

Mason came up onto the stage, and hugged his father. The crowd cheered, slowly, as they mimicked one another. Janus frowned, thinking. About the Pip-Boy. About the Computer. And most of all, about it's promise.

I WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE OREGON TERRITORY.