Over the next weeks, the Overseer ordered everyone in the Vault to undergo a very important test that was supposed to identify all the synths in Vault 121. As expected, the entire Vault was on the edge, and people even started accusing their neighbors for being synths for the dumbest things. The test was mandatory; everyone had to take it, regardless of rank or current assignment.
"So... What are these?" Mr. Becker asks to make small talk.
He couldn't take it anymore! He was waiting in that chair for almost an hour.
"Magnets," the technician answered, avoiding his eyes.
"I see... Are they some kid of special magnets?"
"No. Just regular magnets."
"But they're connected to your equipment, right?" the man inquires.
"Nope," the technician replies, with a grin on his face.
"Well, how the fuck is this going to tell you whether I'm a synth or not? This is so stupid! You know what? I don't have time for this shit. I demands to speak with your supervisor!"
The technician approaches the man and removes his headphones.
"Thank you, Mr. Becker. That would be all, you're free to go."
"Uhm... Well, okay. But, for the record, this is still stupid," Mr. Becker protests, walking away.
After three hours of not saying a word, Mr. Grove finally asks, with an amused look on his face:
"So, I'm a synth yet?"
"Yep," the technician nodded.
"Oh... How'd you figure that out?" the synth frowned.
"It's quite simple. These magnets don't really do anything. It's how subjects react to them what separates synths from humans. The test doesn't have 100% accuracy, of course, but it will do. You see, normal people can't keep quiet for long, and they will get annoyed as soon as they learn these are *normal* magnets. You, on the other hand, sat in your chair quietly for the past three hours, and counting. Now, would you please stand still while I cal security? Yes, this EMP grenade is real, and it will most likely kill you. Don't you fucking move!"
Operation Tin Man was finally over... Everyone was tested and the so-called synths were held prisoners into a large, now decommissioned, reactor room. In the middle of the room, there was a strange device with blinking blue lights. Everyone was quit, the synths were not talking to each other; what was the point of pretending anymore?
"Is this everyone?" the Overseer inquired.
"Yes. 57 units," the technician replied.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive," the technician nodded.
"Alright then. Fire it up."
The lights on the strange device in the room started blinking faster, and then, they stopped. A barely visible shockwave was moving away from the device, filling the entire room. It took one second for the bodies to hit the ground and remain forever still. The Overseer was feeling uneasy about 'terminating' the synths. It was as if she was killing her own. But she had no choice. Her responsibility was for the humans she chose to protect. Her allegiance was to Vault 121.
Strangely enough, three *units* were still standing, waving their hands into the air.
"Do it again," the synth ordered.
The technician presses the button to discharge the EMP again. The three men stood their ground, unaffected.
"Well, they're definitely not synths," the technician spoke. "Just psychopaths. I'll have them sent to a psychiatrist for a complete psychological evaluation, ma'am."
Walking away from the 'death room', the Overseer was lost in her thoughts, when she passed by the medbay. Inside, she saw a little girl, eight, maybe ten years old, sitting in a chair, while a young, female doctor was talking to her.
"My mommy always said there were no monsters, no real ones. But there are," the girl said.
The synth stopped... What did she say? The Overseer signaled the doctor to come out.
"What's going on?"
"Her parents brought her in this morning," the woman says. "She was crying. It's the fifth time this happens. She can't sleep. Wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming. Her mother said she's seeing monsters in her sleep. It all started after a couple of kids played hide and seek in the lower levels of the vault."
"Has anyone bothered to check that?" the synth looked into the woman's eyes.
"Of course. They went down there, but found nothing. She's just a kid with a wild imagination."
"They're in the walls..." whispered the little girl, who was secretly listening in the doorway.
"Sweetheart, did you see any of those monsters?" the Overseer asks.
"No... But I could hear them roar. I also saw a green, bright light."
"A glowing deathclaw?" Jim looks at the synth.
"I don't know. But we'd better check it out. *Again*."
"But, ma'am..."
"I don't wanna hear it! Gear up, we leave in ten."
"Hey man, that's a really nice gun," one of the guard says, admiring the minigun Ivan was holding. It looked different from other miniguns he saw before.
"I like keep this handy for close encounters. Don't worry, miss," the Russian addresses the Overseer. "Me and my nadezhnyy oruzhiye will protect you! Prover'te eto!" *pointing to his minigun* "Five millimetr pulyas, five hundred round, incendiary - sets target on fire. Fry half a bunkernyy with this puppy. I call it... the Ashmaker. Dasvidaniya, yobany urod!"
"Thank you, Ivan. But I don't need your protection. I emancipated myself the moment I was born a synth."
The Russian mumbled something... Not the response he was waiting for. What will it take to impress this zhenschina? He approaches Jim for some advice.
"Hey man, can you tell me anything about her cult?"
"What cult?" Jim looks at him confused.
"The synth cult. What's that like?" the Russian scratches the back of his neck.
Jim booms with laughter...
"You misunderstood, amigo. She's a toaster."
"Knock it off, Henricks!" Chief Frosst intervenes.
"I'm not familiar with *toaster*. What you mean?" Ivan asks.
"You know... a machine? A robot?" Jim shrugs.
"Come on, don't bullshit me." Ivan frowns.
"Fine, don't believe me," Jim says and puts some distance between him and the Russian.
Everyone remained quiet for the rest of the trip to the lower levels. You can only hear the sound of their boots on the cold concrete and the clicks of their weapons.
"We're here," the synth finally spoke. "Spread out, delta formation."
"Alright sweethearts," Chief Frosst raises his voice. "You heard the lady and you know the drill. Stay sharp, keep your weapons ready and watch your backs. Move it!"
"Yhaa! It's time to kill some imaginary friends." Jim says, clearly amused.
"Knock it off, Henricks!"
Chief Frosst raises his fist, signaling the team to stop. Everyone was quiet, waiting... One of the security guards was reading his motion detector.
"I got readings, twenty meters to my right. There!" he points with his finger.
Jim heads to the back of the room to investigate.
"Where, man? I don't see anything. There's nothin' back here," Jim shrugs.
"Look, I'm reading it right! There's somethin' movin' in this room," the guard insists.
"They're in the goddamn walls!" the chief suddenly realizes.
"WATCH OUT!" Ivan yells.
The Overseer pushes Jim away just in time. The wall comes crashing down and three deathclaws emerge from the dust. Two regulars and a big, glowing one.
"Get hot! We've got contact," chief Frosst announces.
"DAVAY!" Ivan yells and spins up his minigun. Everyone starts firing...
With bullets flying everyone, the walls became covered in holes fast. The loud sound of the minigun was covering the roars of the deathclaws. The smaller deathclaws knocked out two of the guards and decapitated a third one, just before Ivan puts them to eternal sleep. Their thick skin finally gave in to the rain of bullets spit by the minigun.
The glowing one however was incredibly fast, dodging bullets and smashing everything in its path. The Russian kept tracking it, but it looked like he was always a fraction of a second behind it. The Overseer signals him to stop. He only managed to destroy the equipment in there. The room had too many columns; the minigun was useless in this tight space. Ivan draws his katana and takes cover behind one of the columns.
The Overseer charges the big deathclaw with her trusty 10 mm, but the pistol wasn't doing much damage, despite all its upgrades. What was I thinking, coming down here with this cracker? Damn it! the synth cursed, taking cover.
Crouched behind a column, she checked the magazine of her pistol. It was empty. Great! the Overseer thought to herself just before the deathclaw grabbed her face, lifting her up into the air. The synth raises its right hand and starts spraying fire from her wrist flamer. The deathclaw backed away in pain, but not before ripping off the skin from the synth's face. The glowing one couldn't see anything anymore - the fire hurt its eyes - and thus it started smashing violently into the walls and columns in the room.
"Chill out, dickwad!" the Russian yells, and then slashes the deathclaw's head with a swift move of his katana. It was over... He looked at the Overseer; he has definitely impressed her this time!
"Not bad for a human," the synth smiled.
"Who- What are you?!" inquires the Russian, jaw dropped at the sight of the synth's face.
"Told you, man. She's a synthetic." Jim grins.
"Knock it off, Henricks!" the chief glares.
"I prefer the term 'artificial person' myself," the Overseer says, walking away.
The Russian just stood there, his eyes wide open, his mind trying to comprehend what he just saw. He couldn't believe it...