Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, my characters and storyline, and other trademarks and references that may be featured in this story.

"Opinions have caused more ills than the plague or earthquakes on this little globe of ours." –Voltaire

Chapter 5: La Terre Sera Malade

"Oh, no." I sighed, quickly closing the door as fast as I could without making a sound or the overseer detecting my sudden panic. We were screwed beyond belief! That and a lot of things went through my mind, the least of which was my hand still over Megan's mouth.

"Mmph… mmph!" I heard her struggling against my hand. I don't think he was in a too particular rush to capture us, waiting for when the time was right and hopefully us making a mistake. I'm sure he would be staying in this screwed up town for a little while longer. I didn't like the feeling that he was going to be stalking around this merry little craphole full of foreign-hating pigs, eager to drag the two of us back in.

I opened the door slightly ajar again, wondering if he was going to storm our room and kidnap us all. Thankfully the overseer wasn't keen on noticing us and walked out of Antimony's with his little search party. That gave me a huge sigh of relief, I seriously needed it. When I was absolutely sure he was out the door, I slowly lowered my grasp on Megan's mouth. She was breathing pretty hard after that, I could at least understand that.

"Todd!" she angrily hissed at me. I'd be too if someone was nearly trying to strangle me.

"Sorry about that, don't want to go back to the vault again," I shrugged. I must have applied too much pressure in panic. Whoops.

"You could have at least warned me about it before trying to suffocate me," she fussed.

"Yeah, I'll try," I muttered with a hint of sarcasm. Like I had any influence over what time the overseer decided to show up with thugs hell bent on recapturing the both of us.

The best course of action I thought was to probably sleep on it. I plopped down as best as I could on the mattress. Yep, sleep on it, but I wasn't in the mood to close my eyes at the moment. I don't think another outsider like him would find too much space here. I hope as hell he's restricted to the area around the vault. It's an epic sea of wasteland to cross. That was a scary thought; it was just a sea of wastes and fucked up people.

I tried to recalibrate both of our PIP-BOYs to what was left of the setting sun. I was too lazy to even look at the corrected time; that was not my biggest concern. All I knew it that this was going to be only our second night in the wastes, we were obnoxiously vulnerable, and that we were probably going to be forced home. Those things crossed through my mind as I lay sidewards across the bed trying to collect my thoughts. My mind liked to wander. I don't know why, but it liked to wander.

"Will I ever find him?" I stared at the ceiling wondering to myself. God, I was so hopeless.

"You're thinking too much about it, Todd," Megan looked at me. Yeah, thinking of it too much. I don't think I was, but still, I'd still be irritated at anyone trying to tell me otherwise.

"You're not helping Megan," I grumbled.

"Look, I'm trying to-"

"I know that," I interrupted. "I think it's easier if you have closure. Me? I don't know whether he's alive or dead, good or evil, wants to embrace me, or wants to fucking kill me-"

The rest of my words were mostly incoherent mumbling. I couldn't talk or think. My eyes rolled around, trying to focus on something.

"Let's get some rest, Todd," Megan suggested. "We've been wandering around this place so long."

"Yeah, you're right," I agreed with Megan and decided to get some sleep. I had a long day behind me. It's probably the farthest distance I had walked in one day. I yawned and closed my eyes on the dirty pillow-less and sheet-less mattress, with sleep coming a short while later. Dealing with the overseer could come later, I didn't want to think about it too much before it would needlessly consume me.

I woke up to the sound of my PIP-BOY alarm reading 8:00, normally the time I needed to wake up to begin my job. I suddenly remembered that had I been in the vault, I was usually off on the weekends. Wait, where is this coming from? I'm not in the vault anymore. I sat up and stretched, what the hell am I thinking? However, there was one thing I'd thought I'd never see; Megan was actually awake before me, resting casually against the room's corrugated metal wall.

"Never thought I'd see you up this damn early," I smirked a bit. My smirked quickly vanished as I came to a stunning realization; we still have a '111' plastered on our backs like a huge freaking target. We were begging to be kidnapped or shot. "You're probably gonna have to change your looks," I muttered, albiety somewhat hopelessly.

Megan sighed. "Not even a damn 'Good Morning'!?" she complained, half joking, half serious.

"Sorry about that 'miss," I retorted, sarcasm drooling from those words.

"Cut the crap, Todd. Anyway, why are you telling me to change my looks? What about you?" she asked, settling down into a chair.

"One, I'm armed with more than just a pistol- "

"Yeah, and an unloaded rifle," she said dubiously. She looked at me astonishingly. "Are you fucking crazy?"

I shrugged, "Well it has 'WEATHERBY' on the rifle, it can still fire, and I don't think it would splinter if I smash somebody's head open." I sighed in frustration as I headed toward the door, "I can't think; I need to go for a walk."

"Whatever," Megan jumped onto the mattress. "Just try not to get into anything stupid."

"I hope you're good at sewing, teaches good skills you know, like patience," was my best retort. I could hear Megan snort and mutter something inconsistent. I chuckled a bit to myself and went to take an early morning stroll.

Christ, even at this time of day, the sun is merciless. I don't know how people that wander around here get used to it. I meandered aimlessly around the town, with not a friendly face in sight. Trying to attempt a smile, much less a "Good Morning. Weather's great, isn't it?" was only an invitation to get me shot. The people would look at me like I was making fun of them or I was an idiot stranger in this town. I still see that guy up there on the mast looking over the town and the wasteland. I don't think I could I do that job, boredom would soon consume me. Either that or I'd die of dehydration.

The haphazard, dusty paths seemed to remind me I was still foreign here, despite spending a night here. Something was circling above my head, although with glare, I couldn't quite tell what. It seemed to remind me of a mutated pigeon. That thought didn't help much. Crap, I need a drink.

I silently wandered around a while longer being careful not to bump into anyone too badly. It would probably turn into a major firefight if I wasn't careful. I soon found a decrepit looking bar in this god-forsaken town and walked in, not knowing who would be behind the counter. Hopefully the barman would be kind enough to at least lend a kind ear to my troubles.

I found the bar to be deserted, except for semi-muscular man with, if I remembered correctly from overseer's notes, raider painspike armor bottom with a tank top draping his shoulders. He was busy shining a shot glass under his heavily rust-colored cowboy hat. He looked about 21 or so. I don't think he noticed me coming in.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as his hand slipped and he chipped the shot glass' edge on the counter. It took a while but he finally noticed me. "What are you looking at, you fat fuck!? If ya' ain't orderin' anything, get the hell outta here!" he yelled. Whoa, what an asshole. How many people did he fuck with today?

"You got a glass of water?" I asked honestly. Any bar worth its salt serves something non-alcoholic right?

He rolled his eyes, "I haven't seen your baby-ass mug around here, so I'll so damn kind enough to explain my policy," he smirked manically. Jesus Christ, if he was a former raider, then running a bar was a piece of cake. "You ain't getting any free non-alcohol bullshit while I'm here."

I was looking for a glass of water to help me feel better. But what the hell, screw it. A drink is a fucking drink. "Alright, calm the hell down," I backed down. "What do you have?"

He scratched into his long, held back, chestnut hair. "You want Jack Daniels or some of the Chinese bail-fucking-jaiu crap?"

"I'll take the Jack, quarter-shot." It didn't make sense for me to drink what the barman, or even I, couldn't pronounce correctly.

"Alright," he seemed to have mellowed a bit when I gave him some of my stashers. I was surprised he didn't try to kill me when I ordered that. "I donno how much of the alcohol it's lost though."

"Fine with me," I shrugged.

He poured me a quarter shot of the whiskey, which I quickly gulped it down in one shot. Its alcohol must have worn off, it tasted pretty stale. It seemed to taste better than the Chinese crap he was talking about. I felt the brown liquid pulse throughout my body, not knowing if it was from the whisky or the radiation that seemed to get its way into anything. It was probably the radiation.

Not having an urge to talking with Megan again, I did something completely against my instincts, to try to start a conversation with this imbecilic asshole. "So what's your story?" I asked.

"Me?" he pulled out a stained and rusted steak knife and started polishing it with a cloth. "Nothin' much about me. Name's Ian Marcos, been running this shithole as long as I can remember."

"There must have been someone before you; this bar wasn't built in a day," I commented, leaning my elbows onto the bar.

Ian's knife dropped and stabbed into the wooden deck, "Well no shit, Sherlock," he grumbled, tugging the knife out of the floor. "It used to be run by this womanizer named Edward Burkeholder, tried to seduce any woman trying to come in to kill herself."

"What happened to him?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grabbed the knife and flung it near my direction, a little too close for comfort, lodging itself into the wall behind me. I could only imagine if someone was standing behind that, freaking out at the sight of a blade sticking out. "Dammit," he seemed to be apologizing. Was he? I don't know. "The same day this guy named Tenpenny comes in, Edward leaves without a fucking trace. Guess he got a good deal brown-nosing that old fucking geezer around."

"Sorry," I tried to empathize with him.

"Ah, Fuck him. I'd shoot him if he dares to show his face around here again," he shrugged off, going to work on another shot glass. "Bastard thinks he can run to the south and be a flaker. Hah! I can beat his ass anyday!"

"Cheers then," I offered.

"You've got to be shitting me if you expect me to toast with an uncharged glass," he observed, giving me a look that told me I didn't have a sliver of class. I'm just a goddamn fresh-outta-the-vault Vaultie, I don't know these things.

"What's an uncharged- "

Suddenly the door flew open. A short, blonde haired woman seemed to crash through the door I came into a while ago. She limped forward as her tattered pre-war hoodie and track pants dragged across the floor. Those monstrous size bruises on her body and the lashings all across her back didn't look like it came from a human. It looked like it came a monster. Blood trickled down from her forehead and stained her blouse, if it could be called that.

"You're the one right? The one who everyone goes to," she mouthed weakly. Pleading, for something.

"Yes, that's me," Ian answered almost sympathetically, but stoically. "You've got to be really damn sure or fucking desperate about this. I don't like givin' it to people that turn into a pussy so easily."

She weakly and wordlessly nodded. Ian and I helped her to the end of the bar. She couldn't walk too far without looking like she was going to collapse head over heels. It was a miracle. I don't know how she made it up here, much less alive. She tried holding her clothes up, as if concerned they were going to melt into her skin.

Ian recited a blessing:

"May the raindrops fall lightly on your brow
May the soft winds freshen your spirit
May the sunshine brighten your heart
May the burdens of the day rest lightly upon you
And may God enfold you in the mantle of His love."

He pulled out a silenced 10mm pistol from his side, pointed it at the woman, and took aim. "I ask again, dear woman, do you commit yourself?"

"Yes, I do."

"Requiescat in pace," Ian said as he shot her. A clean shot right into the forehead. Short, quiet, eerily blissful. What more could be said. She dropped peacefully, bliss from the savageness inflicted on her earlier. She asked for it, and frankly, I don't blame her. I'm just lucky I haven't been shot or beaten up yet.

"Why do you do it?" I asked naively.

Ian lit up a cigarette. "Cause the doctor's fees are enormous, the mortician charges by the hour, an' I do all this bullcrap for free," he casually puffed. "Guess who people are going to pick."

I shrugged my shoulders, "Yeah, seems reasonable." Megan would have thought otherwise, she'd be mortified if she saw all this. Introducing her to this guy was a terrible idea.

"Used to be worse, it used to be after services were provided under Edward," he sighed. It's still strange he'd do it for free nonetheless. "What a callous bastard. He knows I have a pretty good memory an' I did all the shootin'."

If he has a good memory, maybe he could help find my dad. "Ever seen anybody come in that-"

"ALL HANDS TO MUSTER, THIS IS NOT A DRILL," the announcement blared loudly over the town's loudspeakers; loud enough that the both of us could hear it through the bar's walls. "I SAY AGAIN, ALL HANDS TO MUSTER, THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

"What's muster?" I vacantly ask. I don't know what the hell he's talking about.

"Shop's closed!" Ian yelled. "Move your ass outta' here! We've got raiders!"

I instantly followed him out, checking myself for my pistol and my Weatherby rifle. Finally some action! I've been waiting to shoot something. It's probably not going to be the overseer, but it's something. Yes! Something, finally something to shoot at! I thought my itchy trigger finger would never be used after the Vault. It was the perfect opportunity to try it out and press my luck. I was feeling lucky today. Lucky enough to send any goddamn super mutant face straight into the ground.

I stood up on the rafters of the town, looking down the sights of my Weatherby rifle, having a raider in my sights. After someone was stupid enough to try to negotiate with them and he got shot and killed, we got the order to open fire. It just lit up with the number of tracers heading down there and coming back at us. My little firefight in the vault was absolutely nothing compared to this. Bullets flying past my head, the noise of the guns, and the screams of other people; it was intense. What in hell did I get myself into? I was eager about some action but my attitude changed when the bullets started flying.

I concentrated on the female raider in front of me and pulled the trigger. I could still see the burning fierceness in her red eyes with the dirt and grime patches around her face. A sharp bang from my rifle and just like that, she just dropped. Remorse or sympathy for human life was little to nonexistent compared to the Vault. I was bound to know somebody in the vault. Here, nothing mattered anymore; you could die and no one would give a damn in the world. It's too costly to have a funeral here, especially how useless they were. Your body would be rendered to dust in days, forgotten, just scratched off the face of the Earth without a trace.

I rotated the bolt back and pulled on it, cycling another round into the chamber. I used the VATS system hooked up on my PIP-BOY. It broadcasted an infrared pulse and highlighted a targeting beam, giving me a rough chance to hit whatever I was targeting. It was not perfect, but it would do nicely. I zoomed in on the next raider taking the shot before the bullet went through one side of his head and out the other. I was too focused in my own space to worry too much about the screams and gunshots all around me. All of the vital sounds were being re-rendered into an unintelligible mush. I liked VATS for that.

When the entire town finished the last of them, we thought that was it. The entire town celebrated, the guys on both sides of me sure did. Yeah, we were dead sure that was it. I had two confirmed kills and we were discussing about going to Ian's place for a stiff drink. That grumpy fucking asshole need some business anyway.

"ALL HANDS REMAIN AT BATTLE STATIONS," the announcement blared over the loudspeakers. "I SAY AGAIN, ALL HANDS REMAIN AT BATTLE STATIONS."

"So much for that," I grumbled. This can't be right, as if another wave could attack us.

Sure enough though, another group of raiders showed up. As if I didn't waste my ammo on the last one already.

"Son of a bitch, another WAVE? I don't have much left," I heard the murmurs spreading across the deck.

I couldn't think too much about it as I found myself once again locked in the middle of combat. I tried to lay down a stream of fire as best I could, cycling rounds out of this bolt action piece as fast as I can. It's amazing this rifle could take the abuse of working the bolt after all this time. Those raiders were smarter than the last group, taking cover whenever possible. Some of them fleeing and taking shots at us while they ran off to regroup. We didn't manage to kill all of them, but enough to scare them away for now. I didn't have much luck this time; not a single kill.

Though we did not celebrate after that wave, we were beat and ready to call it a day. I know I was, I didn't have too much of the ammo they gave me before this all started. I panted heavily, that must be it. I was ready to sling my rifle over my shoulder when we heard an unmistakable roar of something big. I've read about it the Overseer's notes. It couldn't be them, couldn't possibly be them. They should be concentrated more toward the East, near the city. They shouldn't be coming here. I could feel the ground tremble beneath my feet, my eyes widened, I stood in shock and horror.

They were coming, super mutants.

"NO THINK…HEAD HUUUUUUUUURT!! I REMEMBER HOOOOME!! WHA'PPENED!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" one of them roared.

I guess they just happened to stumble upon this merry little craphole out in the middle of nowhere. They looked hideous with their lime and gray tinted skin, their rags and metal seemed fused to their body. I was instantly repulsed by them. I did what anyone would do when encountering something as ugly as them. Checking VATS one more time, I looked at my PIP-BOY to verify hit percentage, aimed for a shot to the head, and pulled the trigger. I hoped they bit on a fucking bullet, piss off, and died quietly.

Despite VATS saying I only had a 25% chance of hitting it, I could see the bullet impacting the skull. How about that? A perfect headshot! I was so sure that was a clean kill! My first mutant kill! Imagine my shock when it didn't drop and it was still moving, ready to fire, even though it was shot clean in the head. What the hell!? If it could down normal people, why wasn't it working on mutants?

"Auugh! Head HUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRTT!!!" I heard it roar in pain. I think my ears were in pain. "ARUUUGAAAH!!!!!!!"

It sounded like a scratched foghorn record was playing at full volume. It was worse than the ghoul encounter. I ducked and covered my ears at the sound of it. I hated it! Hated it with every pulsing vein in my body!

I popped up from my position and took aim at the super mutant one more time. Checking my Action Point level on the PIP-BOY and I noticed it was kind of low. I decided to aim it without VATS to not waste my AP until it recharged. It was going to take a while, like the most reliable technologies. My aim was a bit slightly off, still recovering from the experience of going into VATS. I was focused on that one shot to down the bastard to make sure it died. Anywhere didn't matter because if I hit it, they would almost certainly be dead.

I barely noticed a bright flash of light coming toward me. By then though, it was too late as felt something impact my shoulder. I knew I was hit, there wasn't anybody throwing dodgeballs at me, that's for sure. I yelled out in instinct. Look at the wound wouldn't make a difference, it'd still be there. I just hope it wouldn't be too bad. If it was supposed to be a hard hitting bullet that came from the super mutant, I wouldn't have noticed.

The wastes were fading around me, the deck was getting darker, and the sun turned a bloodthirsty tinge of red. The sharp pangs of gunshots were now dull thuds, as were the dull voices I thought were screams. My legs gave out from under me as I sank onto the deck, my arm failing to support me up. My breathing turned incredibly raspier and heavier as I struggled from the growing weakness. If this is what being shot in the shoulder felt like, I'd imaging being shot in the torso would feel much worse.

"TODD!" I could somehow make out a voice. It must be her. I smiled to myself a little bit. I have faith in her, which seemed to dissolve my apprehension of someone robbing my body and stripping me of my rifle. Staying conscious for a little while longer was a difficult task to accomplish. At least I tried to not make her worry too much. Damn her, she worries too much about me sometimes but she'd probably chew me out when I regain consciousness. Very typical as after I've been a bullet sponge for the whole day.

I blacked out shortly after that. I don't remember too much, only the feeling of my body being dragged across the deck, anything else was inconsistent.

I guess I'm relying on luck to keep me alive, I hope.

TO BE CONTINUED...?

I want to thank to Argente and Fire Kunai for the reviews and the alert.

This story features zGreece's character in collaboration with myself. I want to thank zGreece for putting up with my PM's, critique on revising it, approving it, and dealing with the anxiety of waiting. Yes, its in, it's done. Hope you like it. As always please read and review!