A/N:

I want to extend my thanks to zGreece, rmctagg09, Argente, Mr Wang 330, and Fire Kunai for reviewing!

In response to rmctagg09's question about the Institute, Yes, it will be in the story. The Railroad will also be making their way into the chapters as well.

Standard disclaimer: All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course for mine and other fan created characters that are featured in this story. I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review.

"If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you're a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind." – Kurt Vonnegut

Chapter 7: The Mutated and the Senile

I woke in the middle of the night again. What the hell did I do to deserve this? I don't remember having this nagging insomnia whenever I was in the vault. This was killing me. Was it because of the recent events and the added stress lately? All I know was that it couldn't be good, waking up in the middle in the night for admittedly random things on my part. Random; that described this abnormally sudden insomnia. I wasn't prepared for it and definitely had no ideas on how to fix it. If there was a god of the wastes, he must love torturing me with the lack of sleep.

I rubbed my forehead and my eyes a bit. Turning my head a bit, I saw Megan sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling with every breath. I'd wish I could be as peaceful as her right now. She looked so cute and innocent basking in the moonlight. It seemed to remind me of our days back in the Vault, where we were so innocent and pure compared to the outside world that changed all around us. Wait, where the hell are these thoughts coming from? Do I really have feelings for the person I put my trust into? What would be her reaction if she found out? What about the consequences?

I have definitely got to get these random thoughts out of my head. No, I don't see her as a girlfriend nor having innate erotic fantasies with her, but we're sharing a bed in the middle of a hellhole. I must be insane, stupid, or both. Damn, how in hell did it get to this?

FLASHBACK

"Todd, what do you really think of me?"

Crap. Why now? I'd really hate to be asked this question right about now. I decided to choose the first answer that came up in my head. I tried waiting for that perfect answer, that one miracle answer that could instantly get me out of a tight situation. That answer was,

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, 'I don't know'?" she repeated my answer.

Oh jeez. Here we go again. "Megan, I'm doin' you a favor and being honest here," I said. "I don't know. I honestly don't know."

It was true; I was more concerned about our challenges up ahead than our personal relationships. That was definitely my job not to worry about it. I really didn't want to slow down and possibly stay here an extra night because of this. Being bogged down in the interpersonal details was not one of the things I wanted to sort out at the moment.

"I hate the uncertainty," she said.

I could only hopelessly admit, "Yeah, me too."

"Todd, can you do me a favor?" she asked a little timidly.

She wasn't known to ask for many favors within the vault if can remember correctly. I probably needed to make up for my little brush with death anyway; I must have scared her that badly according to her. The least I could do was to humor her and make her feel selfish without feeling bad about it. "Shoot," I said. "What is it?"

"Umm... Can you sleep with me tonight?"

"Megan," I said. "I've been sleeping close to you ever since we left the vault-"

"No. No," she shook her head. "I meant in the same bed."

I definitely wasn't ready for that question. That thought never crossed my mind. Seriously, sleeping together in the middle of a hellhole inhabited by at least one son of a bitch I didn't care to see alive? What was she thinking? Most importantly, we weren't even in an intimate relationship, we shouldn't be in one. "Wait, why?" I wondered in confusion.

"I'm just afraid of losing more people close to me. Is that OK Todd? Just tonight?" she pleaded.

Well, it wouldn't hurt anyone to begin with, especially with no perverted overseer catching this on camera in the vault and making some false rumors off of it. I guess I could at least humor this admittedly naïve request. "Fine with me," I said. I trusted her not do anything stupid.

"Thanks, Todd," She smiled. "Good night."

"Yeah," I mumbled off. "G'night"

I wondered what kind of situation I got myself into.

END FLASHBACK

I still did by the faint glow of the stars against the dimly lit moon.

Megan was muttering something in her sleep. I scooted over to her side a bit, not knowing exactly what to do, subconsciously running my hand over her hair and forehead once again. God, I was stupid, why was this the only way to keep me sane? Why was this the only way to keep my priorities in perspective? Why was this beginning to feel strangely, very comforting?

"Mmm…" she hummed in her sleep, blissfully unaware of what my hand was doing. I was exactly the opposite. I thought that killed all chances of me going back to sleep perfectly.

I got the Weatherby rifle I laid down earlier, rested it on the table, and began working on it with the light of my PIP BOY illuminating it with the ever familiar soft green light. I tried to work on it as best as I could without making too much of a sound. Not knowing why, but trying to clean my rifle seemed to put me at ease a bit, at least for the moment. Maybe it was confidence in my weapon? I don't know. I wish I could explore and clean through every nook and cranny this rifle had to offer but this ironically comforting tiredness was soon setting in again. I lost all sense of time but it probably has been about half an hour or so before I slipped back into the bed. Morning would come by soon enough, hopefully not more insane freak out moments.

The sun was up too early for my tastes, but I think the both of us were eager to get out of this obnoxious place and move on. We checked out of our dingy room, didn't say goodbye to the Smiling Buddha, and trekked onwards, crossing the vast, dusty wasteland in front of us. I'll admit, I'd rather not think too much about my dad or even Megan.

"I'm glad to get away from Ian," I said, slinging my rifle over my shoulder.

"Yeah, you got that right," Megan commented. "What an asshole."

We both walked in relative silence for a while afterward, only stopping for some short breaks to catch our breaths and to reorient my PIP-BOY a couple times. I didn't look forward to wandering around the wastes like this, but it was the best we had. If there was anything good to it, at least I thought we were heading in the right direction. The PIP-BOY compass was accurate enough.

I came across a shallow hill when I heard a commotion. I motioned for Megan to stay back as sneaked forward on my belly. I took off my PIP-BOY that was attached to my wrist and sent out a locator pulse. I forget what kind of wave it was but it was supposed to locate people if we were ever separated if we actually got the chance to wander outside for exploration parties. Not that we ever got the chance of course.

Scanning… it said. It'd probably only give us a few blips at best, like good vault technology would.

It flashed excitedly, PIP-BOY LOCATED: PROCESSING INFORMATION…

My internal anticipation lit up, who the hell could it be? Could it be friendly? Could it have food or water? Could it let us join them on an exciting journey across the wasteland? It could be,

JORDAN K. THURMAN: OVERSEER, VAULT 111: GREATER BOSTON AREA VAULT. LOCATION: ARLINGTON, MASSACHUSETTS...

My initial hope died right there. It figures, I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. Who else with a PIP-BOY would be smart enough to wander out here, so far away from any known vault out here? I motioned for Megan to join me up on the hill; apparently no one down there seemed to notice us. I noticed that one of them had a particularly interesting weapon on his hands, like my rifle except with a larger magazine. Was it an SKS? It sure as hell looked like one clutched with those hardy fingers. It could particularly come in handy though. A semi-automatic versus a beat up bolt-action rifle? The difference was clear; it was at least ten times better than what I had right now.

But right now though, I wasn't too sure if my ability to deal with VATS had recovered. Damn that Ian, just haphazardly injecting random fluids into my body, only thing good about him was that he did it for cheap, nearly free. Though the SKS was tempting, I'd be still satisfied if we had just sneaked around the camp unnoticed instead. Too many decisions.

"What are we going to do, Todd?" Megan whispered into my ear. I could only shrug, I didn't know. I waited for a few moments, carefully observing their movements when suddenly…

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

You have got to be shitting me. Why muties? Now of all times?! The two of us were sitting ducks at that moment, prime super mutant rib food. The people down below must have noticed it too, scurrying to pack up their belongings, no doubt terrified of the giant green, and anything but jolly giant. I couldn't get a positive identification if it was our former overseer I was looking at down there but it didn't matter. They were in our way, they looked hostile enough and I didn't care that I had to shoot to kill.

"I'm not too sure," I whispered back. "We're probably gonna have to charge into the camp." I didn't see any other way.

I took the rifle off my back, loaded four rounds into the magazine, and cycled the first round in the chamber as quietly as I could. I slid the rifle deftly through the weeds on the top of hill, making sure the barrel couldn't be seen if it happened to reflect the blazing sunlight. If they noticed my rifle barrel poking out like an unnatural stick in the wastes, I would be finished. I took a shallow breath before entering into VATS, with the familiar green boxes indicating target percentages appeared. I took aim at the guy closest to me, the one holding the rifle in front of him, then the pair behind him, and lastly the one in the rear. VATS better make these shots count; I don't know where to find more ammo for this rifle.

The first shot went in perfectly through the head, although VATS switched over to the next one too fast for me to see it clearly enough. The next two went in around I wanted to be, they'd both be dead within a few moments. I was disappointed with the last one. I noticed that the round only got him in the shoulder. What a pity. At least with a round like that, he should be down somewhere.

After my little encounter with VATS, the two of us sprinted down from the hill and into the camp. I made sure to get the rifle off its former owner. It looked like an SKS from where I was seeing it from, but it didn't look like it, I think it was a SVT-40 used by the fucking commies in the Second World War. I don't know, it looked useful. I also found a few good magazines of ammo on him, which he never used on us thankfully. We both took our hand at clearing out the camp made up of old and degenerate car trailers with our pistols. I didn't think I'd have to resort to shooting a radroach that would love to take a bite out of my face, but I could never be too sure.

"Is it safe?" Megan asked. I couldn't blame her. "Eww... it's too icky," she squirmed in disgust. I rolled my eyes.

"Eheeeww-, Its-a too icky-poo…" I tried mocking her under my breath.

*slap*

Dammit, that hurt. "Ouch! okay, sorry," I muttered.

"Hold on," I observed. "There's only three bodies here, could have sworn I tagged four."

"Todd, what are you talking about?" Megan asked, curiously looking at me with her green eyes.

The ground shook underneath us once more. Either it was an earthquake or a super mutant close by; I'm guessing it was the latter. When in hell does this place have earthquakes anyway?

"You don' wanna get digged by a mutie?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Megan eyed me suspiciously.

I sighed in extraordinary defeat. "Let's just get outta here." I holstered my pistol.

"You're terrible at vocabulary," Megan commented, following me out of the camp.

"It's called slang, homeeyy," I joked, making a silly face.

"You still suck at it."

"Shut up," I pouted. I heard a "SMEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL FFFFOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!" mutant call in the distance shortly after I said that. It nearly scared the shit out of me.

"Now start running," I said.

We quickly ran across the dusty wasteland with Megan trailing a bit behind. I for one was not eager to be mutant food. The red sun and the dry grass made it harder; it was almost like a tinderbox waiting to be set on fire. It didn't help that we were dressed like poorly maintained teddy bears some poor little girl long ago forgot for 200 years. My clothing was nearly driving me crazy at some point, but I guess it was better than our Vault suits. I'm nearly suffocating in them but I guess it was better than in an obnoxiously blue Vault suit. I slowed down to a walking pace so Megan could catch up to me. It's not like she's not fat or anything but I know she can't run for long.

"Todd, you know I don't like running," she complained.

"Neither do I," I admitted, taking a sip of the radioactive water I had. I have got to get used to that god-horrible taste. "But I'm sure you'd rather run than be dead."

"I guess," she shrugged kind of aimlessly.

I was getting a bit hungry, so I reached into one of my pockets and pulled out a can of Underwood Deviled Ham and looked at it a bit, its label almost withered with the passage of time. Still making out the faded red devil on the cylindrical can, I looked at it suspiciously, wondering what it actually stood for . It must have been there to warn me of the devilish taste of what kind of crap was left inside. It could be rotten, it could be radioactive. I've never found food without any of those properties.

"You don't mind eating this do you?"

"Hold on, Todd," Megan said, running ahead of me a bit. "I think I see something ahead."

I followed her a bit to come across a monolith of concrete jutting out of the landscape. Some parts of it were partially collapsed, the mass of concrete and rebar strewn all over the place. As the both of us approached closer, I could see the glass was blown out. I saw a rusted, giant "T" in a circle imposing itself like a rusted pimple what the hell did it stand for?

"What is that?" I looked toward the massive structure. How did even stand up after all this? Was it the metro Ian was talking about? Those were just some of the many questions in my mind.

I approached cautiously toward it when…

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed when a bullet grazed my head. I immediately went prone on the ground, trying desperately to resist coughing on the dust and weeds that flew into my face. Just great, mutants nearly eating us for dinner and now a sniper?! I must have some messed up luck.

"Are you serious, another damn firefight?" Megan hissed, inching her way behind me.

I didn't reply, I just kept inching forward, hopefully trusting our beaten-up-teddy-bear-like outfit didn't make us stand out while crawling on our bellies.

I peeked up my head a bit. From what I could tell, there was a rotund guy on the left holding a rifle with a scope on it on an unusually brown apron. He was arguing with the dude on his right who was skinnier than him, with an unusually shaped mahogany hat; I think it was a bowler. The sensation of another bullet whizzing past my head immediately put my head back down on the chocking ground.

"Trespessers veell be-a shut. Soorfeefurs veell be-a shut egeeen!! I cun see-a yuooo!!!"

What the hell is he talking about!? It was like a foreign language monstrosity that rose from the dead. I heard another voice, this time in a language I could understand. "We can see you. Come out with your hands up or you will be shot at again!"

I don't know why I did it, but I swallowed my pride a bit and slowly raised my hands up with the rest of my body following shortly afterward. Megan must've thought I was crazy; well, I am a bit crazy aren't I? Charging into a camp a moment ago and now this? They seemed rational enough, giving us a warning before shooting the both of us in the head. They couldn't be that bad to reason, right? If they had a soul, they'd let us in. If they had a brain, they could negotiate something for our information.

I must have gotten my hopes up again, dammit. Here we were in a concrete mess that looked like it was going to collapse every time the fat bastard opened his damn lips. I couldn't tell a word of what he was saying; thankfully, that skinny dude must be the interpreter. At least he can actually understand what the fat bastard is saying and translate it in freaking understandable English for us.

"I em Ooleefer zee svedeesh cheff ... Boot vhee yuoo're-a un ooferveeeght cheeld, in a suceeety thet demunds perffecshun, yuoor sense-a ooff reeght und vrung, feur und unffeur veell elveys be-a tregeecelly skooed..."

That made the whole structure shiver, I must be so damned amazed at that speech. I didn't care what he was talking about, something about overweight children and perfection? I only stood there and pretended to listen; I probably would have been shot if I had said anything otherwise.

Then he actually farted while I was trying to negotiate a few things with him and trying to figure out where the hell we were. Apparently, this place was called "Alewife Station", there were a couple traders that would come by every so often, and his farts could easily kill a few birds. Correction, it could KO a few bears, easily. Nothing too hard to memorize right? He could've just told us instead of us wanting to shoot ourselves over his obnoxiously long and terrible speech.

I'd wish I could snipe his fat head off but he could probably snipe us just by aiming from his fat hips. It's a great thing he isn't too smart, as we both managed to pass ourselves off as traders; that was too easy.

So here we were, in a bummed out station, with a fat bastard that has a fat pole up his fat ass, and well… the sun was going down again. I felt it was a good enough progress toward Castle Bravo or wherever the hell that place was. Megan was off hopelessly trying to find a shower while I was deciding what irradiated crap to eat.

"HEADS DOWN!!" I heard someone scream. Man, did we ever pick the wrong time to get into a firefight. Did firefights find us or was it the other way around? I saw a bunch of ghouls approaching, they couldn't be that bad. Ghouls couldn't figure out how to reload a gun if they were ever given one.

I didn't think much of it until a bullet went past my shoulder into the concrete. Apparently they at least knew which buttons to press on a gun. Even then I thought I was safe with all that concrete surrounding me, I guess not. I decided to test out the new toy I ripped off that dead guy. This was going to be fun, ghoul hunting.

I pulled back on the charging handle and let it lock into place, that satisfying sharp clicking sound seemed to make any day better. I raised it up and aimed it down the sights, picking out a ghoul that was fumbling with its weapon, and fired. It hit dead on, knocking it on the dust instantly. I took a few more shots at ghouls before the magazine emptied. Oh well, I wasn't wasting the rest of my ammo on a bunch of ghouls. I had better things to waste my ammo on.

I was so engrossed in my own thoughts that a metallic pinging sound caught me by surprise. It was unmistakable, that of an M1 Garand after its last round was fired, and its 30 aught-six clip automatically ejected. I saw enough pre-war films to recognize that sound. The shooter had her hair tied back; hold on, it was…

Megan? Where the hell did she get an M1 Garand from?

I could see her lips moving in frustration, possibly because she didn't hit anything before the clip ejected. I waited until the gunfire died down.

"Megan, where the hell did you get a Garand from?" I asked curiously.

"Todd, please don't hate me for this," she pleaded.

"Why? What happened?" I anxiously asked.

"I traded off your old rifle-"

"Why the hell did you do that for?" I was increasingly getting more irritated. Even though I wasn't particularly attached to that rifle like it was my first born child and that it was probably going to break down sooner rather than later, she better have a good reason for trading it off behind my back. "I was going to trade that off later you know."

She looked all around before bringing her face close to mine. "I don't know if anyone's listening," she whispered. "But whose idea was it to masquerade as traders?"

"That was mine, what the hell does it-" I hissed, I was definitely losing my patience.

I was cut off by Megan. "Because the fatass is becoming suspicious. I traded it off to keep our image as traders."

"So what?"

"I feel like he's spreading batshit insane rumors about us…" she nervously answered.

"I think you're seriously freaking out, Megan."

"Think about it for a second, Todd," she said, becoming more frustrated. "His word is like a god's. He could easily turn anybody who comes into this place against us."

"True or not Megan," I said. "I'm not worried about it, we're good-"

"Seriously Todd," Megan tried to cut me off once more. However, our stomachs' grumbling interrupted the both of our arguing. I have got to admit, I don't think the both of us were expecting that.

I shrugged sheepishly, "End of discussion," I said normally, without trying to hiss in her face. "Let's eat."

"Yeah," she smiled, with a hint of bitterness. I'm guessing she thought the lost the argument. "What's for chow?"

"This," I pulled out the slightly dented deviled ham can. I tried twisting the can open to no avail.

"Hold on, I got it," I said with slight frustration. Megan raised an eyebrow. Deep down inside, she must be having fun watching me struggle with a can, even though I had successfully raided a camp earlier in the day. Oh, the irony. Almost resorting to giving up, I pulled out my pistol and aimed at the can.

"Todd! Don't shoot it, stupid ass!" she said, walking over to the can. She seemed to give a can a good looking over before apparently taking something, stabbed it into the can, and turned it so that it cut the lid right off.

I was amazed. "How did you-"

"Fucking magic, Todd," she sarcastically muttered. "Fucking magic." Yeah, I deserved my ass being saved by fucking magic.

And so, our little meal of the entire day was a bunch of irradiated, cold, deviled ham as the winds howled through the structure we were in, all under the thumb of an irrational fatass that had Megan freaking out. Yep, I was starting to love the wasteland, where I would have to deal with lunatics while trying to find another lunatic, my father.

We both finished our meal and sat in a relaxed silence for a while. Three firefights for the day, I'm tired and I think I've had it. Hopefully there's not another one while I sleep.

I rested my body against a concrete pillar that seemed to be stable. "I still don't like what you did," I said begrudgingly, but honestly. I really had to get that off my chest.

Megan must have caught onto what I was talking about. "I know, Todd. I didn't like it either."

Anger was not something I should easily let out at the moment. "You act like you didn't have much of a choice."

"That's because I didn't."

"That excuse might've worked earlier; like back in the Vault," I said.

"Todd," Megan retorted. "Must you be so… dense?"

"What the hell?" I objected. Me? Dense?

"Todd," she unfastened her PIP-BOY, pressed some buttons, and gave it to me, obviously to read something. "If this can't make you think for a moment, I don't know what will."

I looked at her PIP-BOY, those ever familiar green letters appearing on the screen…

Language: Unknown. Not Recognized.

Performing transliteration method Alpha…

Vhet zee treder zeereffure-a prudooces, ebofe-a ell, ere-a its oovn grefe-a-deeggers. Its fell und zee feectury ooff zee vestelunder ere-a iqooelly inefeeteble-a. Zeereffure-a, keell zee treders thet ruust leeke-a a pereseete-a in yuoor nest, fur zeey cume-a tu rub yuoo ooff yuoor herd fuooght veelt… Zeey hefe-a bruooght zee deeseese-a oon yuoo, zeey moost deee-a

"So what you're trying to tell me," I looked at her skeptically. "Is that this jumbled mess of letters is supposed to be a death threat?"

She nodded. "Can't you see it?"

"I can barely read it," I retorted, giving the PIP-BOY back to her. It looked like a kindergartner was trying to re-interpret The Gettysburg Address as a freaking teenage love story. "I'll take your word for it, but I'm not going to get apeshit crazy over one little note."

"Besides," I noticed her trying to make one final argument. "We got two badass rifles. What could possibly go wrong?"

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: That jibberish of strangely reworded text was filtered through Bork Bork Bork!, an add-on for firefox designed to turn boring ordinary text into wildly hilarious "chef-speak."