AN; I might make some changes in the in-game dialogue if I see it fit, because it might seem more jerky and less situation-appropriate if I stick to the letter.


Chapter two; Strange new world


The first thing to enter your mind is the uncomfortable prickle that traces up your right arm and that it is stuck under something heavy. Your body, you soon discover, as you slowly begin to feel your knuckles gnawing into your stomach, groans rasping from your throat as you drag your arm from under your torso and let it rest at your side. The ground is jagged and cold against your weight and face, emanating a damp and raw odor.

Still with closed eyes, you press your palms into the ground and push against it, halting in mid-air to pause as a sudden dizziness swaddle your senses, then continue until you sit upright, body resting heavily on your calves.

Whoah. What a ride. You were in the egg, and it blinded you and apparently gave you quite an impressive shower of x-rays as you were able to see the bones. Ulna and radius in your arms, and in your hands carpals, metacarpals and… uhm…

The last one escapes you. Dad would have remembered.

Slowly, you force your eyes open, lids still sticky with mucus, and blink once, twice, three times. The area you're in is nothing but a gray haze of blurred pixels and the outline of your hands is only barely discernable against the dirty green fabric of your pants.

"Whah…?"

Oh God, no. No, no, no, no. The Lounger must have damaged your eyes, and pretty badly – but you kept them close the entire time. It should not be, correction, is not possible for visible light, no matter how bright, to pass through skin but apparently it had happened somehow. Bloody hell if you didn't have enough issues before.

A gravelly cough cracks through the silent air, grasping your attention. You totter to your feet, catching your forehead in a perspiring palm as your brain suddenly starts throbbing against it, and move towards the sound while tracing your hand along the uneven surface of the wall. It only takes a few steps before it bumps against the cold metal bars of a door, and the door clanks against its lock as you rattle it. A prison cell?

"Yes, it's locked."

You jump at the unfamiliar voice coming from somewhere in front of you. It is male – muffled and low perhaps, but still unmistakably male, and the distorted figure of a human stands some yards to the front, observing you through metal bars. You squint at it. Could it be…?

"… Dad?"

The response comes in form of a jarring laughter. Definitely not dad.

"Awww, do you miss your daddy, little one?" the man sneers menacingly. "He is not here, I'm afraid. Nor has he ever come to visit you. How sad."

Your left eye narrows into a skeptical slit. Who the hell is this guy?

"He must be terribly ashamed," he continues. "How embarrassing it is for him to have a criminal low-life scum of a daughter. So he forgets he ever had one and leaves you here to rot in your dingy little hole while he leads a merry life as if you were never born. I have seen it many times before. Usually with the so-called noble families."

A blurred white line draws out on his face as he flashes you a sardonic grin. "But don't you worry about that, my pretty. I will take care of you. I will take good care of you… before the end comes. Oh, dear, they didn't tell you?" he pauses dramatically. "There is probably a good reason why your father made sure you ended up here. No one ever -" the last word is accompanied by an emphasizing flail of his hand "- leaves the Imperial Prison alive. You know what that means, don't you, lass?"

The man hisses through his teeth. "You're going to die in here, little one. Die and serve as food for the rats."

Suddenly, hushed voices and the fumbling of a lock sounds from upstairs. You eject a skewed glance towards the noise.

"Ah, the guards have arrived," your fellow inmate says, "and they're coming for you. Daddy must be eager to get rid of you, huh?"

"You're just one big, happy bag of sunshine and good attitude, aren't you?" you growl irately. What an insufferable douche.

You hear a door emit a sore complaint as it is briskly opened, muffled voices turning clear, and you start as an especially crisp one snaps from above. "Baurus, lock that door behind us!"

It's female and laced with grimness and authority. Heavy boots clouts against the stairwell leading down to the prison cells, clattering in armor ricocheting in the walls. You recoil from the bars in sudden apprehension. It sounds as if they are many and heavily armed, and you, what do you have? You can barely even see. If they're here to get you, you're screwed.

"My sons… they're dead, aren't they?"

A new voice, male this time. It shakes slightly, permeated by sorrow and hopelessness, stirring the memory of the message dad left for you on the holodisk you found in his lab. He had sounded so desperate… and genuine when he said he was sorry for disappearing. And convinced that leaving you in the Vault would keep you safe, though, smart as he is, forgetting to add to the equation that the Vault's overseer is a freaking raving psychopath and reacted like freaking raving psychopaths do when someone shakes their safe worlds – in this case, a Vault isolated from the rest of the planet where he ruled as king.

For a fleeting moment, you wonder what has happened there since you escaped, but you're snapped back into reality as the female voice sounds again, eerily close. "We don't know that, Sire – the messenger only said they were attacked!"

"No… they're dead. I know it…"

The man's voice suddenly seems so terribly old and defeated. Human figures emerge into vision, three people dressed in steel armor and the last one is wearing a purple… gown? It's difficult to tell.

"Right now I have to get you to safety," says the steel-clad woman with the authoritarian voice, before turning to you. "What's this prisoner doing here?" she questions in annoyance. "This cell was supposed to be off limits!"

"Uh," stutters the man next to her, "j-just a usual mix-up with the Watch, I…"

"Never mind," the woman sighs, "just get that gate open." She takes a step towards your cell and aims a gloved index finger to a point on the wall behind you. "Prisoner! Get over by the window and stay out of our way. We won't hesitate to kill you should it be necessary."

Straight to the point at least. You do as she orders, and as you lean against the wall the group enters, you cringe at the feeling of four pair of eyes fixing on you even through you can't discern their faces. One of the armored people stretches his arm protectively in front of the man in purple whilst they approach you. Maybe they're his bodyguards.

Brows furrow closer to your eyes as you narrow them, straining to make out the man's facial features. With his white hair, he is probably elderly, or maybe it lost its color at early age. It's impossible to determine what he looks like, and you're not quite sure that this person is even a "he".

This sucks.

Suddenly, one of the men steps up to you, growling threateningly. "You would dare staring at the Emperor in such a manner?" he spits furiously. "Maybe you are one of the assassins!"

His abrupt hostility towards you makes you wince in horror. "I'm sorry," you reply sheepishly, "I didn't mean any offense. I… I was just trying to see his face. My eyes are damaged, and my vision is bad." You point at your eyeballs for emphasis.

"Leave her be, Glenroy," the man in purple orders, and you recognize his voice from the stairwell. This Glenroy had called him an Emperor – an extinct title which only a loony despot in one of the many settlements scattered across the Wasteland would proclaim, but you're not in the Wasteland, you're in a Vault… or are you? What is this place anyway? Some kind of computer simulation?

Glenroy obediently steps aside and the Emperor walks towards you. "Close your eyes," he murmurs, his hand hovering close to your face. You hesitate – being touched by peculiar strangers isn't something you're very comfortable with, and you have no idea what he is going to do. But he has been nice to you so far, so you do as he says.

Fingertips brush lightly against your eyelids, and a strange cool sensation drifts through the cornea of your eyes, permeating their vitreous humor before it clumps into two tiny cold orbs at the optic discs, flitting into your head. You shudder as the chilliness spreads behind your forehead. The fingertips vanish.

"Better?"

Your eyes flicker open, and you gasp in delighted surprise you discover that your sight is no longer blurred. The Emperor smiles. Deep creases line his skin, experience and maturity swathing strong features in an aging face. Below almost horizontal brows lie two pale blue eyes, unusually clear and sharp as they bore deeply into yours. You return his smile, somewhat nervously. It feels as if he's looking into you rather than at you and you're not sure if you like it.

"A lot better," you reply gratefully, "thank you. But… what did you do?"

The Emperor chuckles. "I may not be a Breton, but I still do have some restoration spells up my sleeves."

Your smile stiffens, brows rising on your forehead. What?

A cough behind you interrupts your conversation and the woman from before walks up to the wall to your left. "Sire, we really must get moving," she says, roughly pushing in a loose stone. The wall in the alcove next to the stone suddenly emits a loud crack as a fissure shoots down in the middle, the wall opening slowly before the group. You blink. That was unexpected.

They disappear into the opening, and the last one who enters gives you a reassuring grin as he says; "Looks like this is your lucky day. Just stay out of our way."

And then he is gone like the others. You wait for the footsteps to fade away before you walk up to the alcove, peering into what seems to be an underground tunnel, and your lips tense slightly as a waft that carries the scent of decay and dampness brushes against your skin. If the Emperor is being hounded by assassins, this must lead to some sort of a fortress or a way out.

You sigh. There better not be any Mirelurks down there.