"Damn that's bright."

Albert covers his eyes with his hands walk into sunlight for the first time. His first impression of the outside world isn't a visual one, but rather a sensory one. He knew his first steps out of the Vault were going to be blinding, that much was a certainty.

He takes a few blind steps into the sunlight, his feet telling him that he is walking on an upward incline. The heat of the sun beats down on him relentlessly. The skin on his face and the back on his hand begins to itch intensely from the sudden assault of solar radiation. The elevated heat suddenly brings about a massive, unforeseen thirst that has Albert is panting like a dying dog. He stumbles forward, stripping off his pack and pull his sleeves up, and falls to the ground. Dirt stains his skin for the first time.

"Fuck..." he breathes, his mouth dry. "Can't even...holy shit..." The words are barely able to leave his throat.

"You look like you could use some help, son."

There is a man standing over him.

"You look pretty parched," the man says casually. Albert vision is blurry, but he can make out a rough beard and a pair of gentle eyes framed by a dark skin. The man brings a canteen of water in his line of sight. "You thirsty, boy?"

Albert nods weakly. The man unscrews the canteen's lid and hands it to Albert, who grasps it with a single-minded purpose. He pours the water into his mouth, not stopping for a moment. The water is warm and taste slightly metallic, but it's the best water he has ever had. Albert suddenly throws up a mouthful, but then proceeds to drain the rest of the canteen regardless. The man laughs quietly. "Take it easy, son. Baby steps. You are not going to die out there." Another chuckle. "Well, not right now, at any rate."

Albert finishes the last of the water and wipes his mouth off on his arm before handing the canteen back. "Thanks," he says weakly. "I appreciate."

He holds out a hand to Albert, who takes it gladly. The man yanks him to his feet, and Albert gets a better look at him. A big brown beard, calm brown eyes, and possibly the most dire cowboy hat in existence frame a large, warm smile. He sports a dusty green jacket over a black shirt. A pair of old military combat boots cover him from toes up and lead up to a pair khaki colored military style pants. On his back is a weathered Chinese model assault rifle with a collapsible wire stock. A small gold ring hangs off his neck by a slightly rusted chain. The thing that catches Albert eyes the most is a well-polished metal sheriff's star. "Never thought I'd see another Vaultie in my lifetime, but here you are." The man's voice is deep, but friendly, "Rest easy son, I am not going to hurt you."

Albert nods and leans up against a nearby rock-face as he tries to control his breathing. The man looks at Albert from top to bottom. "What's your name, son?"

"Albert. Stop calling me 'son'."

The man holds up his hands. "Well, so much for grateful. Didn't think you Vaulties were sunshine and butterflies, but the least you could do is be polite." A small smile appears on his face. "This would fall more into that 'tube you were talking about." Albert and the man look at each other for a moment before the man bursts out laughing. The man holds out his hand. "Name's Lucas Simms. I'm the Sheriff of Megaton. Pleased to make connections and all that."

Albert shakes Lucas hand. "Albert Arlington. Recent pariah of Vault 101." His quiet voice is laced with humorous sarcasm. "I'll assume that this Megaton you're referring to is some kind of settlement?"

Lucas nods. "Not more than a ten minute walk from here. I'll take you there; I was just finishing my patrol of the area. Lucky I came around here when I did."

Albert smiles quietly and gathers his belongings. "In my experience there's no such thing as luck, Sheriff."

Simms sighs. "That's going to change real fast, Mr. Arlington. This isn't no Vault. The Wasteland isn't the kind of place that breeds philosophers, if you catch my meaning. You either take what you can get out here or you die. Hard."

Albert nods. "Still learning, Sheriff. We never stop learning."

Albert draws the pistol, grimly recalling the men he's killed. Husbands,fathers,sons.

Albert gestures with the pistol. "This relic has killed five men within the last hour. Probably doing something right."

Simms shakes his head. "Boy, those numbers don't mean shit out here." He yanks the rifle from his back. "Three days ago I killed eight raiders with this rifle. That was in a time span of about six minutes. Five in an hour isn't going to do you much good out here."

Albert rolls his eyes. "Like I said, Sheriff; I'm still learning."

Simms chuckles warmly. "I'm starting to like you, boy. Don't get too friendly now, might have to sic my son on you." He winks at Albert. "And he's a better shot than me, bar-none."

Albert laughs; the first honest laugh in recent memory. "I'd almost pay to see that. Almost." He takes a handful of pistol clips and attaches them to the belt before donning the Kevlar. "Let's get going."

Simms nods. "Best keep an eye out. We've had reports of raiders nearby in the ruins of Springvale. I'd clear them out, but I don't have the manpower." He begins walking down an incline and away from the Vault. Albert follow, but suddenly stops, looking out over the horizon.

Simms sighs. "It's pretty depressing, isn't it?"

Albert turns to the Sheriff, tears in his eyes. "Sheriff, you don't understand." He wipes the tears from his face and look back at the bright horizon.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Simms turn back to Albert. "Well then Albert... Welcome to Megaton."