FALLOUT: TALES FROM THE COMMONWEALTH
By: Shinsou808 (or 'Shin,' whatever works)
Formerly known as: Fallout: Red Sun
A/N: This is going to take up a bit so please stay with me here. I have played Fallout 3 three times: once normally, once to just bust through the main quest, and one which is just for the pure love of exploring, sidequests, killing things, plugging in mods, experimenting, and other fun mindless things which I don't plan to complete. I have completed all of the DLC and have nearly exhausted my hard drive with all the mods out there. While I have done my best to familiarize myself with the Fallout 1 and Fallout 2 universe, I have not played the games.
This story is inspired by, but will not strictly follow the main quest and/or sidequests of Fallout 3. It uses a similar starting formula, but it will diverge from that. If you haven't read the summary, this place in a Fallout-ridden Massachusetts, or as known in the Fallout 3 universe, the Commonwealth. If you are looking for a ghoul slash, Butch slash, or Amata slash fiction, I will save you the trouble, this does not contain any of that sort.
Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, my characters and storyline, and other trademarks, references and characters that may be featured in this story.
"Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both" -Benjamin Franklin
Chapter 1: Vault 111
Kenmore Square, Boston, The Commonwealth
It was a dark and chilly night where I was at, perched overlooking the streets of Boston. The streets were eerily quiet without the noise of cars and people mulling around doing their business; I'm guessing those cars haven't moved in decades. The grungy CITGO sign with its reddish triangle imposed over the lifeless square, a forgotten beacon of a golden age gone by, like much of the city. I have been through so much to get here but now, I don't know what to do. It was so goddamn clear back then, when my objectives were so concrete and simple. The dirty nautical colored walls hardly calmed me down, more like reminding me of how lost I was. There was nothing to light up the sky.
I nearly jumped at the twangs of banjos and guitars that suddenly played over the record player. Scared the shit out of me.
Let me tell you the story
Of a man named Charlie
On a tragic and fateful day
He put ten cents in his pocket,
Kissed his wife and family
Went to ride on the MTA
Did he ever return,
No he never returned
And his fate is still unlearn'd
He may ride forever
'neath the streets of Boston
He's the man who never returned.
It shorted out thankfully, cutting the rest of the song out. More importantly, it didn't wake up the person that was resting in my arms. Like me, she had a terrible day to say the least. I rested my chin on her head and gently stroked her back, ignoring the small stain of sweat and tears she left on my clothes. A mix of emotions flooded throughout me but the most resonating one was that someone had to pay. I didn't know who or how, but it would have to be done. Would it have to be the Overseer and his son for making my life miserable? Would it be my dad who made my life infinitely more complicated? Or would it be myself for being so stupid enough to drag myself and her out of the Vaults whose sole job was to keep us safe?
I tried reflecting in a simpler time. Where the only concern was the daily grind...
Three years ago, Vault 111
"Beautiful music, dangerous rhythm…" came from the mangled, but functional radio in my home, Vault 111, which from my understanding, has been sealed since anyone can remember, in a place no one knows, or cares to remember. Ours was supposed to be the "control" vault where the "control" aspect of it seemed to be a recurring theme. Sorry for not introducing myself there, name's Todd. I'm not the strongest nor the smartest, but I think I've survived Vault life alright. I haven't gotten to the point of "cabin fever" as the adults and old-hags love to call it, they say I must be one of the lucky ones. Some of the other people who lived here before lost their minds or some shit like that.
"Dad! Turn that crap off!" I yelled from my room. All we have are records from the 1950's as music. Astonishingly, after 200+ years in a sealed and controlled environment, they still play! How about that! Sure they're scratched as hell, but at least they still play. Maybe Frank Sinatra's voice sounded better than a ragged harmonica, but I wouldn't know the difference.
I let my eyes wander over the last few pages of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, my present for my 10th birthday. Sometimes I'd wish I had a pistol or something like that, but that overseer's got a stick high up his ass. Nope, not even a BB gun. That's what the Overseer got his son for his damn 10th birthday, out from the middle of nowhere, heaven maybe. That spoiled bastard. I never got any special boys toys for any of my birthdays. My stupid, once in a goddamn lifetime G.O.A.T is in about a half-hour. I feel a bit nervous, but nonetheless irritated that we have to take that stupid test. It does not help that stupid song is still playing.
I marched into the living room, walked over where my optometrist-turned-medic father sat on the worn out couch, and promptly turned off the radio.
"You don't like music, sport?" he asked.
"Not when it's the same crap every day." I quickly replied, ruffling my black hair back. "Isn't there something different?"
"You know you got a GOAT to in a while right?" he asked, quickly straightening up.
"I know!" I took my jacket and walked out the door. As always, he changes the subject.
"Good luck!" he said. Though I think it didn't matter anyway. It just determined the field for the rest of the monotony inside here right?
The classroom was only maybe a two minute walk from my room. Snaking across the sterile, metal floor could get me to that stupid place on time. When I got there, Evan's gang, the Sewer Rats were there. Dorky name if you ask me, they keep saying they got the inspiration from some group from Washington DC. A sorry excuse for a bunch of punks with a damn sense of entitlement running around this place. Evan is the overseer's son. he could get away with whatever crap the gang pulls out. Just complain to his dad and it's like it never even happened, evidence and all. As usual, they're up to their bullcrap, again. They give us enough grief already, like we need to kiss ass for them to gain "protection" from their cockiness.
"C'mon guys, let me through!" I hear a voice. Knowing them, they like to pick on the vice-overseer's daughter, Megan. I've never interacted with vice-overseer at all during my life here but I've known her since we were little, like everyone else has unfortunately. She's a good friend nonetheless.
"Nope, Meggie, you owe us caps," Evan smirked. God, he's a jerk. Thinks he's so badass with his spiky blond hair, blue eyes, and being the overseer's damn son. Too bad he's stupid as a pole and as vain as his dad.
"Since when do I owe you caps??" Megan demanded, her green eyes staring at Evan. Since all the pre-war money has been ground to dust by our fingers for 200 years, we're so ghetto we have to resort to Nuka-Cola bottle caps! What a novel idea.
"Since today, I'm afraid," he frowned a bit. "Chargin' a toll; and besides, that test is a load of bull anyway."
"I don't have any caps on me right now. Can't this crap wait?" Megan pleaded. Enough observing for me, this is stupid.
"C'mon Evan," I tried to reason with him. "She's got none and she can probably pay you back later. Just let her through."
"Oh, look who it is," he turned around and sneered at me. "This your boyfriend, Meggie?" he grinned maniacally. "I thought you'd always want to go out with me, make things much easier than complainin' to your dad."
"Who'd want to go out with a person who's got a 10 foot pole stuck up their ass?" I came up with best comeback I could, at least that got his attention. "Candy-ass punk," I told to his face.
"What did you call me, bitch?" he demanded.
"You heard me, asswipe," I yawned, turned and walked the other way. Evan was always terrible at hiding his emotions. His knuckles sharply crackled through the hallway, his heavy panting echoed in my ears. Even if I had my back turned on him, there was no doubt in my mind that I had won an easy argument.
I heard footsteps stomping the metal floor; starting slow then quickly gaining in speed. The stomping of the feet was getting closer, closer. At the right moment, I turned around and sent my curled left hand straight into his jaw. Okay, it was weaker than I normally would; I could say that. If I was ever arrested, I could pull the "self-defense" reasoning out of my buttocks for a defense. Not that it would matter anyway. This place is a seriously screwed up dictatorship.
Evan stumbled back, nearly falling over his right foot. Pathetic, utterly pathetic. I was certain I'd have to fight in a 3 on 1 slugfest today. Apparently not. As the two cronies beside him were scrambling to his aid, Megan stood there dazed. She couldn't have been that shocked. Stupid teenage fights happen everywhere, right? I cracked my knuckles, noticing a bit of red spots on them, probably a bit of blood. It was not too bad, I could get away with it with a little ice on it and say I cut myself on the floor's metal edges.
"I'll get you for that, bitch!" Evan managed to croak out.
"You'll what?" I couldn't believe it. What the hell is he thinking? "Patrick, Miles," they immediately looked up. "Drag his ass to the clinic; tell Doc I'll foot the bill. Now get out of my sight."
Patrick and Miles immediately complied to my surprise, I could hear Evan's ass being bumped on the numerous bulkheads on the way with him yelling challenges and threats. I couldn't believe they'd actually obey me. I was expecting a "Fuck you!" and three guys charging me. Oh well, at least its resolved, peacefully or otherwise.
"Thanks for getting rid of them," Megan said. "Assholes."
"No problem," I shrugged my shoulders. "Didn't you take the vault self defense class?"
"I did," Megan looked away. "But-"
"But what?" I raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't know what to do," she confessed.
"That's alright. That's why you fall back on your training. Don't worry about it." I reassured her.
"I know that, Todd."
"Then, is that the only thing you remember from training?" I cracked a small smile.
"Oh, shut up." Megan pouted. "Anyway, we have a GOAT to take, did you study?"
"Of course not," I put my hands in my pockets. "It's very short, like most of the stupid tests they crap out their asses. Maybe I should get a Nuka-cola afterward," I said as I turned toward the classroom.
"Typical," Megan commented. I could see her brown hair shaking with her head. It's kind of fun getting on her nerves. The two of us went into the classroom, not concerned about what kind of future the vault provides.
The classroom was nothing much to remark about. It had 20 chairs arranged in a Five by Four grid. It was definitely not well lit; I always found the cheapo lighting too dim for my liking. It was like studying in a bleeding theater with its lights turned down. The seats were not much better. It was like they were bolted into the floor, expecting not to move in a million years. They weren't made to be comfortable, being made by the lowest bidder chosen by whoever made this oversized nuclear bunker. We'd use this classroom for what little education material they could teach us in pre-war material. Not that I ever listened very much to what kind of crap they were teaching us anyways.
I took my usual seat at the back of the classroom while Megan tried to take a different approach and went a little closer to the projection screen that had "GOAT, Generalized Occupation Aptitude Test" and a little kid riding an abnormally sized goat. I don't know how it'd affect the scores to begin with. Looking down, I found an equally worthless mechanical pencil and a booklet that said "GOAT. DO NOT OPEN UNLESS INSTRUCTED"
Hmph, maybe they should write "JACKASS" on the cover for good measure. I could only with our proctor was not a robot; they were the worst. The only robots we got were antiquated, stupid, bumbling, pieces of trash only designed to spit words out and simple household tasks around the vault. They would be infinitely more useful if they were melted down and converted into guns we could shoot each other with! I wouldn't mind that.
A chime snapped me out of my thoughts as our proctor, 1WMMD, a Protectron robot from the glory days of pre-post-apocalyptic ass-fucking, clumsily walked in and to the front of the classroom, creaking along with every step it took. Yeah, I knew it. This was going to be a long test. I rested my head on the equally dull and metallic desk. This was not going to be fun at all, like babysitting a screaming baby at a bingo game in the Vault. It's yellow light flashed on its head as the door closed behind me. It was going to start soon and I had to look like I was alive and enthusiastic.
"On your desk," he recited in his overly dull monotone drawl. "Is Vault Tech form 4628, General Occupational Aptitude Test. It should specify that in the top right hand corner. If it does not say that, please notify your proctor immediately."
I didn't need to check. I had enough of a short term memory to process that.
"If you have taken the General Occupational Aptitude Test before, please be aware that this score overrides your previous one and it must be submitted to the overseer by close-of-business today."
Uh-huh. Really? If I remember correctly, they were closed for training for a good chunk of today.
"You may now open your booklets. The test begins after I finish reading the first question."
"Question 1," It began. Sneaking a peek back, I noticed that the Overseer's son was fashionably missing, in no small part to the punch I threw a while ago. That dumbass missed probably the most important test of his shitty life! This was perfect! "You work for a vault scientist who refutes your results with the phrase 'I reject your reality and substitute my own!' How do you respond?"
Squinting at the test booklet, I circled A. "Am I missing... an eyebrow?"
"Question 2," Christ, I don't know how a robot got the job of monitoring us like kids. "While working as an intern for the R&R department, you happen to stumble upon two rabbits producing offspring at an alarming rate. You cannot find your immediate supervisor, what do you do?"
D. Sit and stare, while chanting "Mine are eating their own poo." They'll die from eating their feces anyway.
"Question 3," sigh..., "You happen to find a Vault user overextending their computer privileges. You know it is a detriment to the cooperative and hard working socialist environment of the vault. What do you do?"
B. Scream "LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEROY JENKIIIIIIIIIIINS!!!!" at the top of your lungs the Vault user's ears.
"Question 4. You have been ordered to restructure the entire bureaucracy of the Vault via the orders that delegate social democracy. What is your first task?"
C. Harden the fucking vault up
"Question 5. Oh no, an abrupt power failure has disabled the hydraulic holding mechanism on the vault doors! You are stuck in a bathroom, and can't get out. What do you do?"
A. Say, "I splashed my tights," while banging on the door.
"Question 6. Congratulations, you have been accepted in the ranks of the vault security team, the best defenders of Vault socialist democracy! What role would suit you best?"
D. The guy who does nothing, and is proud of it.
"Question 7. An unknown creature somehow burrows its way into the vault compounds and triggers a Code: Victor Charlie. What do you do?"
C. A little "pew-pew", "bang-bang", and "boom-boom" never hurt anyone.
"Question 8," I can't stand it, when is this over!? "Pull my finger."
B. You have 11110100001001000000/1 - 1 Fingers, you fail hard.
"Question 9," Wow, did a virus infect the poor bastard? "Your neighbor has your copy of 'Possum!' which he hasn't returned in some time. You want it back, What is the best way to repossess it?"
D. Light a bunch of firecrackers near the computer. That will definitely get his attention.
"Question 10, Who is undeniably our Lord, Master and most Dear Leader, infallible and all knowing, great and meek, revered and loved by the glorious people of the vault. The one who provides great freedom against the imperialist fascists of the outside, the scourge that would dare oppose the Dear Leader and self-reliance, and who will be with in the vestiges of time, space, and the boundless pure land of the righteous and free?"
I couldn't believe he could spit that out all at once. Oh wait, he is a robot. He could spit that out a million times if he had to.
Actually choosing an answer was irrelevant, they all have "The Overseer" mixed in with random words everywhere to make it look unique.
"Pencils down everyone," the lifeless voice reverberated throughout the metal classroom. "GOAT Testing, completed. Please close your testbooks and leave them on the desk. The results will be mailed out to you later though inter-vault communications channels. You are free to leave."
I was more than happy to leave, I didn't care what I was going to be doing anyway. I was born and raised in this vault, and I'm sure as hell I was going to die in it. It would be the same from the the day I started my first job until I "retire" from my job some 40 or 50 odd years later, no happier than I first started. That sadistic test was probably going to assign me to something moronic, dull, or a job that I hated.
Those thoughts didn't leave me as I went down the mess kitchen to get my daily ration of food and take it back to my quarters. I'd actually eat more of it if it didn't taste like overly processed chicken nuggets. I certainly hated the fact that they called it "Victory Food"! Victory food my fat victory ass! That was definitely the biggest lie in the entire Vault, making us believe that the food we ate actually made a difference. The worst part about it that there were no condiments except a whole lot of processed water to make taste better. Mmm, I love processed water.
I lazily pressed my thumb in the Vault's primitive fingerprint recognition device, letting me back into my gray metal cubbyhole I called home. It certainly wasn't much, but it was better than sleeping out in the hallways. I'd wish we had our own bathrooms. I hated the shower schedules sometimes, both the time and the duration. One time it assigned me late at night, when all the hot water was gone and the water pressure was low. It was just stupid.
"Back already?" I heard my dad call from his desk. "What did you get? Did you pass?"
"No!" I yelled a bit, loud enough so that my dad could hear. "I'm sure I didn't! They said they'd send it out later."
"Why not?"
"How the hell should I know?" I sarcastically responded. "They never tell us!"
I plopped down on the lime green couch, one of the few non-metal vault furniture we could personally own when its previous owner died of mysterious circumstances. It must have been re-upholstered a couple times and it lost its firmness over the years. But I never knew what a firm couch felt like, so it was fine by me. I was keen on relishing my two days off. Two days of just... nothing! No more classes, no more of dealing with the crap of pre-war books, Hah! I was eager to savor the pleasure of relaxation, free from commitment, at least for now. Then I'd probably be stuck in a job I hate, but would be proclaimed by the overseer as "vitally important to the freedom and security" of the Vault. Up his.
My mind began to wander as I looked aimlessly out the the glass window. What was it like out of this place? Was there anything better? I had a feeling that I wasn't really connected to this stale place, like it was too limiting. Comfortably limiting, like this couch I was laying on. Like how I couldn't comfortably lie down without resting my feet up on the side.
My daydreaming was rudely interrupted by the buzzer telling me someone was waiting outside the door.
"Coming!" I irritatingly groaned. I hoped it wasn't one of those Vault security guards knocking on our door every so often to make sure nothing was wrong. Seriously, what's the possibility of something that could go wrong in the vault? It's nearly impossible to start a fire here!
I activated the Vault's hydraulic door to see who was actually there.
"Oh, hey Megan. 'The hell you doing here?" I said casually, feinting my surprise. Wait..." I think I had the answer. "Lemme guess. Your dad's busy again fixing all the crap the overseer screws up, am I right?"
"Yes, Todd," Megan scowled, crossing her arms. "Including the GOAT results."
"What do you mean?" I implored.
"The results are going to be posted in the ADMIN section-"
"I don't get it," I scratched my head. "Why are you telling me this? It hasn't even been announced yet-"
"It's just because you saved my ass earlier," she shrugged. She didn't have to, but I guess she had a point.
"Whatever you say," I replied, knowing where to go since that stupid ass wouldn't give us our results to our residences. Besides, I was at least eager enough to find out what kind of hell I was going to work to. I turned my head back a bit, "You can chill here if you want..."
I didn't know it then, but my life was about to change. This place would turn upside down...
And the two of us would be in the middle of it in a struggle for accessing the outside world...
TO BE CONTINUED...