Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3 or any of it's irradiated and fatal content.
...
Picture, if you will, the Planet. Post-Apocalyptic, in all of it's anarchistic glory. You know how it happened. You know why it happened. None of that matters, as the past is the past, and no reasonable candidate for punishment responsible for the current state of affairs on this ball of rock is alive. Or, at least, within our reach. Now, let's focus ourselves a bit more precise area. Picture North America, no, the U.S.A. Freedom. Baseball. Happiness. Capitalism. And then, with the pushing of a few buttons, Terror. Chaos. Mutants. Rapists. Theives. The 'Greatest Country on Earth' destroyed itself from the inside out. Enough time spent dwelling on the past.
You now see before you the Capital Wasteland. Megaton. Rivet City. Paradise Falls. Three major cities. And of course, you have the Brotherhood of Steel, and their opposite, the Enclave. But, more specifically, Downtown D.C, overrun by the Super Mutant menace. Many of the inhabitants of the Capital Wasteland have never traveled East of the Downtown area. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it is unfortunate. The settlements to the East have just as many problems and resources, if not more, than the Capital Wasteland.
One such settlement, The Park, or in the pre-war times, Thomas Point Park, is where you should place your attention. As the name 'Point' implies, it is the very southern strip of land coming off of the coastline almost directly east of D.C. To give you an image that you can rely on, we'll go through the details. The only overland entrance has been fortified with a barrier of cars, two high, two deep, and five or six long, right where the entrance to the park used to be. Fortified with various hunks of scrap metal made into battlements along the Barrier. Two men are on guard at the Barrier at all times.
The only way into Park is through a guarded man-made bridge of cars, sheet metal, and wood stretching across the water from a spit of land on the Eastern Shore.
Before getting onto the bridge, you must pass a barricade, just scrap metal high enough to cover a man's chest, with a few chairs for the guards to sit in. Travelers passing through town pass the barricade. Merchants, hunters, and the occasional mercenary pass through. The barricade is the bridge's first line of defense. Unless you're a raider, bandit, obvious troublemaker, or someone unwelcome in the Park, getting past the barricade is almost guaranteed.
The bridge spans from East to West. Where the bridge reaches the shore on the town-side of the Barrier, a traveler would find themselves in between the Barrier and the Wall. The Wall is only a car tall, and a car thick, with an obvious gap in the middle. This is where travelers are really stopped. Here, the Checkpoint Official will make sure that the visitor isn't some kind of psychopath, and will either be admitted entrance or denied access. Once inside town, there you will find a varied store selection, decent food, The Subtle Band's headquarters, and most importantly, the thing that makes the Park the most important town in the Eastern Shores.
The Harbor. For a cheap price, and a quick talk with Vicky, one can purchase a ride across the bay to be dropped off an hour away from Rockshore, a ride North, where the drop off is right at the Former U.S Naval Academy, if you're on good enough terms with the men there. Still North, one could get passage to The Settlement, or South to Rose Cove, Ripps, or, if you were willing to pay for it, Finnstown.
...
I walked quickly, but quietly, towards the metro station. This was a one man job, so the others were free to do as they pleased. I looked around instinctively, taking in my surroundings. Flat, dusty plains, a few burnt out buildings, and then the Metro in front of me. I said nothing as I prepared myself for the upcoming attack. I reached for the silenced .10mm at my hip. Holding it firmly, I knew this would be over soon. I started to step into the dark, I turned around. Nobody. Now satisfied that I was alone, I stepped down, and into the shadowed halls of Central.
I stepped into the nearest secluded room, sat down, and as always, began to eat. It was a simple meal of dog, but it tasted good enough. When asked about this strange ritual, I just shook my head. Let them figure it out themselves. I finished the meal in silence, and sat for en extra two minutes for good measure. Now fully able to see, the job could start. Some two weeks back, a company of bandits had shown up in the East. They were more viscous than usual raiders, smarter too, and even more brutal. Sure, whenever they were met they lost men, as did the people who were their victims. But when word reached the Park of what had happened at the Mall, the council agreed that action had to be taken.
The Mall was a Shopping Mall, a settlement North and West of the Park. Nice people, and their fortifications were pretty heavy. The merchant reports said that the place looked just like what it was; a battlefield. Explosions had scorched various surfaces, casings were found everywhere, blood spatters, bent metal, you name it. These guys were packing some serious firepower.
So they sent Silas to take care of it. That was two days ago.
It had been easy to follow their tracks, and eventually, the bandits themselves, back to their hideout. Now they were preparing to move out again. I understood why I'd been sent. The Park didn't want anyone else to die, sure, but the real reason was so that they'd be safe. I didn't begrudge anyone that. This was a harsh world. I sat up, and cocked the pistol. Time to get to work. I walked at a normal pace down the tunnel, checking side rooms, only to find the occasional ghoul corpse. Farther down.
I stopped. Voices. Down the ramp. Now I had to control himself to stop grinning. I looked around for what I needed. I picked up a piece of pipe. I flipped it around in my hand a few times, trying to judge it's weight. It'll work. I began to back into a side room, and then, when I was in the doorway, hurled it with all of my might at the other wall. The voices grew louder. More anxious. "Then go find out what it was you fucking bitch!" A voice bellowed. Laughter. A voice complaining. "...amned sonnova bitch! See! I'm here! Nothing to be afraid of, you goddamn pussy!" The other bandits roared with laughter.
I stepped into the corner, and pulled the hood of my duster up. I'm going to need my knife. It was in the sheath, hanging from my left shoulder. If need be, I could rip it out of it's holster and slash in one fluid movement. Saved my life more than once. So I stood and waited for the inevitable. "Look," The bandit called out. "I'll even check in here. You gonna freak out again Bitch?" Still laughing, the bandit's shadow entered the room before he did. Head still upright, I closed my eyes. The bandit entered the room.
Now that he was there, the bandit decided to actually look around. Footsteps to the other side of the room. To my left. Back to the door...then nothing. He had stopped. The bandit's name was Lynch. He was a reasonably strong guy, bet he was even better known for his eyesight. He frowned. That shadow was wrong. He walked over to the corner near the door. His frown deepened. "The fuck?" He whispered. He stared at my face, searching for a sign. I could feel his breath on my face, hear the now rapidly increasing breaths he took. He was looking into my closed eyes, scouring them for any hint of life.
My eyes shot open.
A split second after that, the bandit began to scream. The noise got out. This was all part of the plan. Things were life or death now. The next split second, a knife had slammed into Lynch's eyesocket. He died instantly.
These guys are no different than run-of-the-mill raiders.
Confused and angry mutterings. I resheathed the knife, and reached for the pistol. I moved out of the room immediately, and into the next one. I took the room's furnishings in immediately, and, finding the best hiding spot, created it. I pushed a locker in the corner enough so that I could hide behind it, and still look in place. I was completely hidden behind the locker, but if a bandit did find me, I wouldn't have a way out. This room's entrance was it's only exit. I berated myself mentally. Don't fuck this up. I could hear the bandit's progress. Coming up the ramp. Entering the room. Stumbling on and discovering the body. Remembering his terrified, girl-like scream. Fear. Going deeper into the room. Going to the door. Coming into my room.
"Jesus Christ!" One of the bandits said, running a hand through his spiked hair.
"I fuckin' know. I know." Another said in agreement.
"You see his face? He was pissing himself!" A third bandit entered the room.
"You guys mind if I stay here?" He said gruffly. The two looked at each other, and shrugged. All the better, having another gun at the ready. "Sure." Three nodded his head, and went to sit on the desk. "We're in trouble." He said slowly. One laughed.
"Right. We'll find this guy, and we'll kill him. No big deal." Two wasn't so sure.
"I dunno. Lynch didn't have any idea that whatever was there that killed him was even there, until it was too late. No random Wastelander could pull that off."
Three nodded. "That's my point." He said, clutching at his rifle. "We've either pissed off or scared the shit out of someone, it doesn't matter. All that does is that they hired someone. And this someone is definitely a pro." The other two bandits shut up at this. "Shit." Two said. One remained skeptical. "Fuck that. He's just one guy. I'm not worried." I rolled my eyes. They were definitely off guard. Now was the time to strike. I began inching my way out of the locker.
And then Three saw me. "Holy shit!" He shouted. He reached for his gun, which, in his terror, fallen to the floor. One and Two were busy looking at him, unaware of me. Taking advantage of this, I placed a bullet in Three's Head. One and Two swore, and searched for me with a fervor known only in the face of death. One succeeded. I rushed up, and punched him in the gut. With one temporarily out of the way, I concentrated on Two. He was bringing a sawn off up to chest level. I reached for my hatchet, on my right hip, firing the whole time. I don't know which shot ended his life, but it was gone.
With Two out of the way, it was a simple matter to take out One. Now safe, I drew the hatchet. It's handle was two and a half hands long, with a simple axehead on the end. It had seen me through a lot, and it would see me through even more. I brought it up above my head, and brought it down on One's neck. The blood hit my face. It was on my clothes. But, now the room was empty. Nothing but corpses. I felt myself become consumed by pity. These men needed to survive, like we all did. All they knew was how to fight. They had chosen a means of survival not so different from mine, and for it, it had cost them their lives.
I shook the thought off. Get over yourself Silas. I snarled internally. They're shit people. You're no better than they are, but at least you aren't an anarchist.
"What the fuck is going on in there!" Someone yelled. That pulled me out of my little stupor. I hurriedly dragged the bodies out of the hallway's line of sight. I thought quickly. My cover was about to be blown. Best to prepare for it. I quickly searched the corpses. "Goddamned loafing bastards!" The voice roared. It was closer this time.
I found what I was looking for. One of the bandits had a knack for explosives. I grabbed a handful of mines, and, still quietly, ran for the hallway. I dropped two there, one, right around the corner from the door, and the rest in the room. Expecting anything and everything, I grabbed Three's assault rifle, and jumped back behind the locker. I stood there, in the darkness, anticipating the arrival of the first explosion.
The first one echoed out through the whole metro. I flinched at the sound. More shouting. I put the rifle down. This would be very close quarters if I was found. I reached for my hatchet, and hefted it in my right hand. My mind wandered as I waited for more explosions. I'd been called monster, animal, and worse throughout my life. Then again, the people who said those things were either trying to kill me or were about to die.
I wonder what someone who did know that wasn't trying to kill me would say about me. I wondered. I thought it over for a few seconds. Damnit. I cursed. I'd be too dead or too busy chasing the person down to get an answer.
...
Hey people. I've been gone, yeah. I've one announcement to make. The Survivors and Incensatus Vereor are on hold for an undetermined amount of time. The Capital Wasteland Idea Well has completely dried up, so I've moved to brighter shores. The Eastern Shore Chronicles are filled with new and promising ideas, and this is where I'm going to focus this fic.
I know that you guys and girls aren't stupid, so I'll come clean right now. This takes place seven years after the events of The Survivors, which has been put on hold. Kylar is employed as the Second in Silas' mercenary company. All I'm going to reveal is that Kylar's past is painful enough that he has no desire to live in or return to the Capital Wasteland.
However, I have been toying with the idea of including the Fallout 3 plot in Hunter, and perhaps getting a confession or admission out of Kylar as to the story of his past. So don't worry. All hope may not be gone.