Mutatis Mutandis 28
Word of warning, this chapter is where this story earns its M-rating. Torture, implied rape, child abuse, and other wonderfully cheerful things to follow. If you're faint of heart, well… then… What are you doing
here? This far? Into this series? Go find another series to follow! Fallout Equestria, for example. I pull very few punches. You should know this by now.
Jason grunted, straining against the leather cords which held him in place. His side was awash with pain of all sorts, sometimes minor and sometimes paralyzing. He could feel the alarming amounts of blood soaking his clothing. He did not know how much time had passed since Brutus had left, but the pool of water at his feet had long since turned a cloudy red, glinting in the meager light provided by the glowing barrels. He didn't want to touch it. He did not want to become a mutant. The two masters were hard at work, pouring more and more of the FEV II virus into the water pipe. He had to stop them. Stop them, free himself, find a way to heal from this damned bullet wound, then find Brutus and gut the bastard for all he had done, including Jason's current predicament.
That was the plan. So… first things first.
"Hey!" he shouted. "Uglies!"
One of the Masters took notice and marched over, stopping at the edge of the pool, only a few meters away. The other followed shortly. "What you want?"
He had to get away from the water, and somewhere near a less dangerous radiation source. How was that for irony? There were plenty in Vault 87, but none of them would help if he couldn't get free. Hopefully his new friends would help. Jason said, "Don't you want to come over here and… beat me up or something?"
"Stoopid Human! We not dat dumb! Brutus say no touch you. We no touch you."
"Yeah." The second mutant added, "You Wanderer. You very dangerous. We touch you, you break free. Kill us. Kill whole vault. Stop Brutus' plan. We not goin' near you!"
Jason groaned. They had picked one hell of a terrible moment to finally learn that lesson. "Well what if I promised not to?" he asked, partially out of desperation, and partially to sate his own curiosity. They couldn't be that stupid…
"We not trust you human! But is ok." The mutant reassured him, "Will eat your heart when you dead!" His companion laughed and they both turned towards the barrels.
"You stupid muties really need to come over here and untie me or there'll be hell to pay!" Jason threatened, just trying to keep them interested. As they turned back towards him, his mind worked quickly, trying to find a way to goad them into getting him away from the tainted water. He needed to heal. He could feel himself growing weaker by the minute. God, since when did bullet wounds hurt so much? Actually, it didn't hurt so much. In fact it was going numb; probably a bad sign.
…But he might be able to use the injury to his advantage…
"You need to untie me!" Jason said, keeping their attention. "Or else when I do break free, I'll…" he let his voice trail off and hung his head, going limp in the chair.
"You what, human?" one of the mutants asked. There was silence. Jason listened as the other mutant moved to the edge of the pool to watch him.
"Wanderer?"
"He dead?"
"Dunno? How we tell?"
"Hey, human! Wake up!"
There was another thoughtful pause. Then, "Hey! Little dumb Wanderer, wakey wakey! I'm gonna rip little humans to shreds!" Suddenly distracted, the mutant began laughing uproariously at the idea. His friend joined in a moment later. "Yeah! We eat all dem little humans! Ha ha ha ha ha!"
They paused to see if their taunting had any effect.
"…He dead?" one asked.
Jason kept still and silent, his head bowed.
"Maybe. He Wanderer. We say we kill humans… he alive, he get mad. He shout at us. Break free and kill us. He dead… he act like dis."
"Wow. Makes sense. You so smart… why you on barrel duty?"
"Don't know. Casey Jones say so."
"Well what we do with him?"
"Hrrmm" one of them rumbled thoughtfully. Jason heard a gentle splash, and the tainted water lapped against the soles of his combat boots. That horrid mutant stench filled his nostrils, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose, sensing the proximity of the abomination.
"Wanderer! Wakey wakey!" the mutant said. God… it sounded inches away. Jason could actually feel its foul breath on his face.
Then an enormous thumb pressed into his bullet wound. Agony blossomed outwards, surging through him and he went rigid, screaming in pain.
"Ha!" the mutant said, pressing even harder until its thumb had worked its way past the abdominal muscle wall. It's dirty, cracked and broken fingernails scratched and crushed his intestines. The mutant was laughing, though Jason could barely hear him. The world seemed to be swimming, fading in and out between this conscious hell and blessed darkness. All at once, the invasive digit slid out with a wet pop. The mutant was staring down at him triumphantly, though he hardly noticed through the pain.
"Stupid Wanderer. We know you lie!"
The mutant's enormous green fist slammed into Jason's nose, crushing the back of his neck as his head snapped backwards. The blow sending him toppling over into the tainted waters, but by that point he had long since succumbed to the pain.
Water lapped at his jawline, pooling in his open mouth. His hair was damp, and he could feel a throbbing in his side. His neck was aching, and his skin itched. Hot and cold flashes raced across his body, and he could immediately feel that something was off. His muscles and joints were tighter than they should have been, and his senses felt both dulled and somehow sharpened. Jason slowly opened his eyes to reveal the wall of the chamber, and an open door. Panic swept through him as he pieced together the moments before his blackout. He was lying in the tainted water… What had it done to him? Had he drank any of it? Would that make a difference, or was just skin contact necessary?
He began to struggle wildly, kicking with both feet and straining against the bonds which fixed his wrists to the arms of the chair. At first, his struggles were only rewarded with the sound of the straps straining to hold him in place. He only began to fight harder, the panic adding a boost of much-needed adrenaline.
One the far side of the room, he could hear the jeers and laughter of the two supermutant masters. Their amusement at his helplessness only enraged him further, and he could hear them stomping over to watch him struggle. Wood began to creak and splinter, and he could feel the entire frame of the chair loosening slowly.
"Human! You awake again! Need more pain?" one of the mutants laughed, calling to him from the edge of the pool.
The chair exploded, and Jason floundered in the pond, suddenly finding his limbs freed. Lengths of wood hung from his wrists and ankles, held in place by the lengths of binding material. He kneeled in the pool, on his hands and knees trying to stop his head from spinning. Sounds of alarm and consternation echoed through the chamber. Enormous feet slapped damp concrete, and then he could hear splashing. A mutant foot impacted his side, winding him and sending waves of pain through him. He landed a short distance away, gripping one of the chair's arms. There were nails in the end of it. A weapon! And even better, he was on a dry surface, out of the tainted water.
His hand closed around the weapon and he pushed himself up as the mutant rushed him for a second attack. He dodged the clumsy, flailing fists and swung his makeshift weapon into the side of the mutant's head. It yelped and leapt backwards, clutching its temple, a small amount of blood dribbled between its fingers. Jason moved quickly, taking careful notice of the other mutant, who had picked up the remains of the chair and was rushing forward, holding the wreckage over its head like a club. It heavy footfalls echoed around the room.
Changing his grip on his tiny weapon, Jason took two swift steps forward and jammed the nail into the eyes of the closer mutant, causing it to howl in surprise and pain. Its partner was coming for him at high speed, swinging the chair in a brutal arc. Jason leapt to the side, dodging the mutant, and it brought the chair down on its partner's back, dropping the smaller mutant to the ground. Jason took advantage of the mutant's surprised pause, and used the hooked, rusted nailboard to tear out the mutant's throat. As the creature staggered backwards, gurgling, he leapt onto its partner's back. He wrapped the loose leather strap around the mutant's neck and began to tighten it, choking his prey. Its partner grasped at him feebly, but both mutants were already slipping on the blood-drenched floor, and it died before it could tear him off of its ally.
The remaining mutant stumbled around the chamber, rasping as it fought for breath. Jason tightened the binds further, and clung to it for dear life. The pain from his bullet wound had faded with the adrenaline, but it came back in full force as he was swung to and fro. Then the mutant's elbow connected with the wound itself. The pain was too much, and Jason let go, flying off to the side and landing flat on his stomach.
The mutant roared in anguish, tearing the binding from its throat. It picked Jason up by his shredded duster and flung him towards the glowing green barrels of the FEV II virus. With a loud crash, Jason hit two of them, sending them rocking dangerously from side to side. A few droplets of pure FEV II formula landed on the ground next to his face and he rolled backwards. A moment later the damaged barrel came crashing down, the green liquid flooding towards him as he scrambled away. The mutant bellowed hysterically, once again charging towards him. The Wanderer looked around quickly, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. Yet aside from the barrels, the chamber was empty, and mutant was coming far too quickly for him to move out of the way, and his side hurt too much regardless.
The mutant charged into him, picking him up by the throat and slamming him into the nearest wall. The broken waterline was nearby, and the mutant began to shuffle towards it, gripping the struggling Wanderer tightly. Jason kicked out as hard as he could, his heel opening long gashes across the mutant's face and shoulders. Eventually it struck back with its free hand, thrusting a few fingers into his gunshot wound to stifle his efforts and overwhelm him with waves of crippling agony.
Then they were at the waterpipe. The mutant slammed him down against it, the rough metal edges cutting into his chest and shoulders as his head was thrust beneath the rushing water. Jason gripped the edges of the pipe as best he could and pushed backwards, but that was of no use. The mutant had superior strength, and the leverage to use it effectively. Every time the Wanderer seemed to be getting too uppity, that fist would pound into the gunshot wound, disabling him again and again and again.
Trapped beneath the rushing water, Jason struggled for breath. He could feel his heart pounding, and panic overwhelmed him as his lungs cried for oxygen. Pressure built up in his throat, and Jason let out a stream of bubbles, trying to keep himself distracted. He kicked out and felt his foot connect with the Mutant's thigh. In response, its fist slammed into his side again, and he cried out in silent pain, reflexively drawing a breath. Water flowed freely into his lungs. Time seemed to slow, every agonized second drawing itself out to an infinity.
All at once, it stopped. The pressure holding him down was released. Jason slid to the floor coughing madly. He could hear the mutant crying out in pain, just a few feet away. The heel of his boot slipped in something wet, and he shuffled backwards a meter or two, still trying to cough up any water left in his lungs. Behind him, the mutant was thrashing and screaming in agony. He lay there for a moment, listening to its dying sounds. There were several ugly cracks, and a strange organic noise. Silence dropped, save for the sound of the rushing water.
Finally gaining some measure of control over his lungs, Jason rolled onto his side and managed to prop himself up, wincing as he did so. The mutant was gone, and in its place was a jittering pile of flesh, almost two meters in height, and twice as wide. It sat there, shuddering and twitching. Cracked bones were visible, shards and shattered ends sticking out of the blood-spattered morass. Scraps of green skin could be seen, torn and ragged. Jason took a moment to understand what had happened, and the results were shocking. A small trickle of the raw FEV II formula from the spilled barrel had flowed through the shallow cracks in the vault's concrete floor. The stream had come into contact with the mutant's uncovered foot as it was drowning the Wanderer. Brutus had said that it only took a very small amount to turn someone into a supermutant. The results of an overdose on someone already transformed were spectacularly ugly. Contact with the raw, undiluted formula had caused every cell in the mutant's body to multiply into an uncontrollable, utterly randomized neoplastic mess. On the pile of flesh, a rapidly expanding pustule burst, sending another small trickle of blood to flow through the valleys of the bubbling morass.
The wanderer's eyes traveled downwards to the sole of his own boot, which was dripping with the stuff, though none had seeped through. Taking care to move as slowly as possible without touching the formula, he removed the footwear and tossed it away.
The Wanderer checked himself carefully for any more droplets of the FEV II virus, and upon finding none, he got to his feet and dusted himself off. The entire lower half of his body was soaked in blood, mostly his own. His duster was in shreds, and now one of his boots was missing. His skin itched, and his joints ached, not just because of the fighting; hit body felt rough and strange, and he wondered how long he had been exposed to the tainted water. He was rad resistant. Perhaps he had some resistance to the FEV II strain as well. It wasn't something he wished to put to the test, but he was himself for now. On top of everything else, the gunshot wound was aching as madly as ever. He wasn't sure what damage the mutant thumb had done to his innards, but his entire side was on fire. For a moment he thought of perhaps using the irradiated water in the open pipe to give himself a rad boost, but the FEV II formula had soaked the floor around it, making it inaccessible to him. He sighed; this was turning out to be a long, long day.
The vault tunnels were pitch black, forcing him to turn on his Pip-boy light. He stumbled through the cramped passages, moving gingerly and using the walls for support as he worked his way through the labyrinth. The floor was covered in debris and broken glass, which did not help; he had rarely gone any distance without wearing his combat boots, and the sock on his uncovered foot was shredded within a few minutes. As he moved, he left a bloody footprint trail behind. It was still better than risking exposure to the raw formula.
God… how could he solve that problem? He needed to incinerate the stockpile and he needed to do it soon, before Brutus could use it to do any more damage to the Capital Wasteland. How could one safely dispose of something that potent? Where the hell had it come from in the first place? Whenever Narg next showed his ugly old mug, the two of them were going to have a long conversation!
The pain in his side reminded Jason of his more immediate problems, and he collapsed for a moment, dropping to his knees and waiting for it to subside. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and slow his heart rate down. He was feeling weaker than before; probably the blood loss. The effort it took to get back on his feet was worrisome, and no sooner had he risen than he heard the familiar rough movement of a mutant patrol, somewhere in the darkness ahead of him. He moved backward; he had passed the doorway to a vault washroom a little ways back. There hadn't been anything of use in there, just old bones and foul smells. The solitary medkit had been emptied a long time ago. Yet he rushed backwards as fast as he could, listening carefully for signs of pursuit. As he moved, the foot he was dragging behind him hit a tin can, making it skitter a few feet ahead.
"What was that?" a mutant voice echoed though the hall. Jason switched off his Pipboy light, and moved by feel and his hazy memory. It was better to be stuck blind than present any patrols with an obvious target. The Wanderer's questing hands soon found the washroom doorway, and he moved inside, feeling his way over a prone skeleton and into the nearest stall. He shut the door behind him and waited. After about a minute of silence, the heavy thud of mutant feet entered the washroom, along with the flickering light of a torch. Jason watched through the crack between the stall door and its frame, the slim bar of light playing across his face. outside the stall door, the mutant paced across the washroom and back, less than two meters away. He could see the top of its head over the door of the stall as it paused, listening for him. Its toes crunched on the dry bones of the skeleton, and it kicked a few ribs under the stall door. A warm feeling in his pant leg made him look down. Blood was pooling at Jason's feet, and he grimaced as a trickle ran slowly across the floor and beyond the stall's confines. He lifted his leg and took a silent step backwards, cutting off the flow for a moment. Outside the stall, the mutant shifted its stance, coming within inches of stepping in the fresh pool of blood. Jason tensed, preparing himself for another fight.
"Ah, well. I was hoping for a fight…" the mutant said somewhat mournfully. It stomped out, the light fading with it. Jason let out a long breath and gripped the bullet wound in his side. Even a day ago, the idea of him being forced to hide from a mutant was laughable. But between his injuries and the mysterious aches and pains he was feeling, he was in no shape to fight. That had been used up just trying to take down the first two mutants. If he wanted to take down the mutants, he needed a weapon. Fast. But the only way to get them was to take down the mutant sentries. Stuck between and rock and a hard place, his only real option was to hide. Thankfully, he was still more than capable of being stealthy. He paused for a moment to check the toilets and sinks for irradiated water, but they were all dry as a bone. None of the taps worked. Brutus had probably routed the entire vault's water supply into that single pipe, trying to give the FEV II virus as much exposure as possible.
The Wanderer left the stall and moved forward, following the faint light of the mutant's torch. No matter where it was going, it would lead him away from here. he still had no idea how he was going to rid the wasteland of Brutus' FEV II supply. All he knew was that if he didn't, it would mean the end of everything he held dear.
The mutant lead him down twisting vault hallways which he did not recognize. His Pip-boy was slowly adding the new areas to his existing Vault 87 map, and he could see that they were growing closer to areas he had already mapped out. he was under the impression he had seen the whole vault, but there were plenty of locked doors, and plenty of dark corners he knew he hadn't explored yet. As they traveled through the labyrinth, he slowly became aware of other noises. Sobbing and agonized screaming. they passed through a foyer area where several hallways connected together. A large room was on one side, light shining through its windows. The mutant opened the nearest entrance and strode through, laughing as it did so. "You puny humans! All so weak! Ha ha ha! You all serve Master now! Will bring food. Need you alive! Need you healthy for Alpha! Make more muties! Unity!" it turned and strode off into the darkness.
Holding his side, and keeping one hand on the walls for support , Jason crept closer and peeked through the windows into the large room. It was full of prisoners, young and old. All chained to the outer walls and several heavy concrete blocks in the center of the room. He recognized a few residents from various towns across the wasteland. Raiders were there as well. To Jason's surprise, a few enclave officers. It was a fairly accurate cross-section of the wasteland's human population, with people from every settlement, and every background. They all had one thing in common: they were all female. Their clothes were dirty, ragged and torn. Gaunt faces told him that some had been there for a very long time. Their fingernails and toenails were cracked, grimy, and untrimmed, their hair frazzled and knotted. The looked half dead. He recognized among them Sierra Petrovita, and a woman from Arefu. Vance's wife Holly was there as well, her head lolling against a length of twisted rebar.
He stepped inside, picking his way over wire-thin, skeletal legs. Flied buzzed around him and he gagged on the foul stench of human refuse. Hope sparked in the eyes of a few of the more alert prisoners, but most of them regarded him with expressions of indifference, or solemn resignation. Most were too weak for anything more. To his utter horror and disgust, Jason spotted bumble in the corner. The young girl's pyjamas were missing a sleeve, though it didn't matter; she had long since died, her skin green and bloated, eyes faded and glazed over.
"Hey!" a voice rasped. "Hey, Wanderer!"
An accompanying foot poked him weakly in the ankle. Jason turned at looked down. Sydney was lying against the wall by the door, he arms shackled above her head. Of all the wastelanders in the room, she seemed to at least be to communicate. He knelt down beside her, wincing as theb wound made its presence known again.
"Well, well, well…" the woman coughed, "If it ain't The Great American hero…"
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Stupid question."
"Why are they keeping all of you here?" Jason already suspected the horrific answer, but he needed to know for sure.
"I hope I never find out." Sydney said weakly.
"If I free you, could you walk?"
Sydney shook her head slowly. Eyes shut, she leaned back and rested her head against the wall. "This is the most I've moved in… how long has it been? I can't remember…"
"You were in underworld, selling ammo. What happened?"
"Muties came. I didn't make it out. Others did though. Ghouls are hiding in the ruins." Sydney reported. Her breaths shallow and dry. "Do you have water?"
"No." Jason reported grimly. "Where can I find a weapon?"
Sydney managed to keep her eyes open long enough to register the gunshot wound in his side. "Looks like you need a stimpack first."
"You're getting it before me." He said.
"Yeah? And then what? I walk and everyone else here stays to die?" she looked blearily around the room, her eyes lingering on Bumble's corpse. "No. We all go, or we all stay. No amount of booze is going to dull that guilt."
The Lone Wanderer looked around the room, examining the captives. She was right. It was an easy fact to admit. They were in no shape to fight. Most could barely move at all. He himself was in a sorry state. There was no way he could look after both himself and the two-dozen ailing prisoners. Not in the middle of the mutant stronghold. Even if through some miracle he got them all out, he'd have to escort them to Jackrum's campsite, wherever the old mercenary had set up base – Evergreen Mills, probably. Defensible position with plenty of fallback points. The prisoners would be a burden on the Talon Company's supplies. Food and medicine required by able-bodied fighters would be set aside for the prisoners' recoveries, at the cost of the war and the wasteland as a whole.
An easy choice to make. As a matter of fact, there was really no choice at all…
Sydney looked up at his blank expression. "Son of a bitch…" she murmured, "You can actually walk away from us… leave us like this. God…what's it like, being able to do that?"
"Easy."
"You're fucked, you know that?"
"Irrelevant. What are they doing, collecting you like this?"
The relic hunter shook her head and tried to shrug, though her quick gasp and cessation of movment informed him of how painful movement was for her. She said, "They take us away and they never bring us back. I don't know what they're doing to us here. I don't want to find out. Especially not if I'm the only one who gets out…" her eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, Jason thought she had passed out. But she still spoke softly: "Fine. Just make it burn, Wanderer. Make it all burn."
"Jason nodded slowly. "Down which hallway do they take the prisoners?"
With costly effort, she lifted her hand and pointed in the right direction. Jason took one last apologetic look at the decrepit collection of captives, and moved on.
There were ghoul survivors. That was important. His horror at what the mutants had done was secondary to his running tally of Wastelanders. How many ghouls had survived? Were they well-armed? How could he get word out to them? Were they still alive, or had they been killed off? Or had they fled, perhaps?
There were plenty of settlements Jason had not yet heard from. While he suspected that Arefu was gone, Meresti was a well-hidden, easily defended outpost. Perhaps some survivors yet lived in the metro station. Tenpenny Tower was no doubt rubble. Despite his distaste for the tower's residents, Jason couldn't help but feel sorry about that. For the wasteland in its current state, that was a devastating loss. The tower housed several hundred people, not to mention Tenpenny's private security forces, most of whom were seasoned combatants. Around fifty experienced soldiers, and one hundred able-bodied men? A loss. Canterbury Commons was alarmingly vulnerable as well, but the same could not be said of the ANTagonizer's underground maze, nor of the Mechanist's well-defended factory. If the bulk of the mutant forces were spent on the Brotherhood and Rivet City, perhaps some of the outlying communities had survived. Overall the numbers couldn't add more than two hundred people to Jackrum's army. However the ANTagonizer had another whole army at her disposal, and the Mechanist's bots could add some much-needed heavy firepower. Recruiting them was something to be considered, after he was done here, of course.
When he made it out…
…if he made it out…
He heard noises echoing down the hallway, and slid up against one wall for what good it would do. It was also something to lean against. Limping was becoming troublesome as he felt his body weakening.
The hallway continued until he reached a single vault door. He could hear the moaning on the other side. The door was locked, and he had no picks.
But that wasn't going to stop him. Not for one second. There was a light above the door, so it also had electrical power. The locking mechanisms on regular vault doors functioned on plungers driven by normally closed spring solenoids. The doors themselves were driven by springs beneath the frame, attempting to lift the door sections both up and down. They were prevented from doing so by thick steel plungers which were removed magnetically when an electrical current ran through the solenoids. When there was no current, a separate set of springs held the plungers in place, locking the door shut.
Normally the circuits were completed with the insertion of a key, or by inputting a code into a nearby keyboard. To a regular vault dweller with little mechanical or electrical understanding, getting through was an impossibility. Thankfully, Jason was not a regular vault dweller. Even from birth, James had nurtured his son's mechanical and electrical knowledge. He had even been slated to be the next vault mechanic… until that fateful morning…
Jason had never been much good at hacking, but he could repair and operate damned near anything with damned near anything else.
Gritting his teeth against the agony it caused him, he put all his might into tearing the protective plate off of a nearby maintenance access panel. Whenever doors in vault 101 malfunctioned, those panels were what Stanley tested first. Sometimes the mechanic had needed to bring in heavy equipment to access the plunger assemblies hidden in the floor and ceiling, but first usually he could find the problem using an electrical meter and applying it to the contacts, testing for shorted and broken circuits.
Jason gave the circuit board within a thorough examination. Twenty-six electrical contacts, only ten of which mattered to him at that moment: the four hot lines and the four neutrals controlling the solenoids. Those, and the hot and neutral power lines. Yet the whole circuit was controlled by the lock. That was the switch. The break. The part which needed to be bypassed.
This was dangerous; he couldn't afford an electric shock. He wouldn't survive it. Not with the state he was in right at that moment.
But he also needed to get to the bottom of Brutus' plan, escape, and destroy the vault. Somehow…
On the floor a short distance away, he found a small, sharp piece of scrap metal. It was too small to be useful as a weapon, but he utilized it to remove the electrical insulation from the tips of one length of wire, allowing him to apply one end to the neutral contact of the lock circuit- which would provide a path for outgoing electrical power to reach the solenoids- and the other end to the hot contact, which allowed power to flow into the lock.
There was a flowering of sparks, a puff of smoke, and a quiet, bang, along with a blinding flash of light. Jason leapt backwards, the fine hairs on his hands scorched. A second later, The door slid open and he hurried through, though it didn't close behind him.
The room beyond was barren, and his attentions were drawn to the a single, solitary cot with a single, solitary figure lying on it, murmuring occasionally. He moved forward, his eye falling on the medical tray beside the bed. Med-X syringes were laid across it alongside a single stimpack. There were several medical tools there as well.
Jason grabbed the med-x first and plunged it into his arm, feeling intense relief as the pain dulled slightly. The figure beside him didn't seem to take much notice. The stimpack came next, and he felt refreshed. Not nearly recovered, but a little bit of his strength returned to him, and he was able to focus on the patient. It was a Little Lamplighter. One of the teenagers. A quick look informed him that she was female. A young girl of barely thirteen, whom he vaguely recognized. Except that her skin was rough and dark, and her veins were glowing with that tell-tale green light. Her bulging eyes bright green and flecked with gold specks. She was nude, and her musculature had overgrown nearly every other aspect of her physiology.
He noted the chains holding her to the gurney.
"Knock knock." She murmured, shaking violently. Her gaze was still blurred, eyes locked open in shock, horror and fear. "Knock Knock… Who's there…?"
Jason reached out to the medical trolley, picked up a scalpel and gave her what help he could. After the deed was done, he stared down blankly at her corpse, trying not to feel.
That's when he spotted the bassinet, and the tiny sleeping figure curled up within. He stared at it, then at the dead FEV II mutant, then back at the bassinet. Another empty bassinet had been placed beside it.
Jason Howlett felt anger erupt within him. White-hot blazing fury which made his fists clench, and all the pain dull to a background annoyance. So this was their plan? Building a nation? Nations were not just lines on a map. Not just boarders. They were people. Lots and lots of people. And the Supermutants were building one. Literally. Like the Chryslus Car company's assembly lines. One damned abomination begetting another. How many more rooms like this were there? How many more brave, proud wastelanders had been reduced to the scared, twitching mutant now lying dead on the cot?
…How many more occupied bassinets were there?
He approached carefully, listening to the birthed mutant's feather-light breaths. Each step was harder than the last, yet his curiosity and anger drove him onwards until at last he was standing beside the cot, staring down at the sleeping abomination. He reached in and flicked aside a blanket to reveal the thing's miniscule, ugly face.
Way of the wasteland. Kill or be killed. Not just for people, but for nations as well. That was war. That was what Brutus wanted. The Lone Wanderer looked down at the bloody scalpel in his hand. He carefully readjusted his grip, and brought it up and around, plunging it towards the infant's body.
Jason hesitated, the tip of the blade halting an inch from the mutant's sleeping form. It squirmed a little, but remained asleep, completely unaware of the silent argument going on above.
The scalpel clattered to the floor. He couldn't do it. Despite it all. The injustice, the anger… the entire war going on in the wasteland above them both, the child wasn't to blame. If there was one lesson Jason had learned from his adventures, it was that the sins of the father should never ever be laid upon the son. He knew firsthand what that did.
There was a teddybear sitting at the bottom of the cot, its doleful button eyes observing the whole event. Jason gently took hold of it and placed it within the infant's open arms. The child stirred for a moment, tiny green hands gripping the stuffed animal and pulling it close.
The Lone Wanderer moved on.
Six minutes later, Jason came to a halt halfway down the next set of corridors. A lit sign on the ceiling flickered, drawing his attention to a single word: Reactor
That was it! That was how he could destroy the vault; blow the reactor and burn the entire complex in nuclear fire! He took two excited steps forward and nearly tripped over the body of a dead overlord. It was riddled with bullet holes. Flummoxed, but too worn out to give it much thought, he followed the sign's directions down a set of stairs…
Only to find dozens more mutant bodies strewn across the floor in various different poses. Some were riddled with bullet wounds, others had been battered to death via sledge hammer. It appeared that their killer had used any means at his disposal. As he waded further through the battlefield, Jason began to recognize some of the signs. They were pointed to places he had been before on his previous subterranean adventures through Vault 87. He could find his way out now! Relief overwhelmed him as the dwindling embers of his hope were rekindled.
Yet he wasn't done. Not until the reactor was on its way to overloading.
He continued to follow the signs, stumbling across body after body. Dozens of mutants were scattered along his path, the bodies growing more numerous the closer he got to his destination. The entire vault must have been involved in the battle. And it was recent, perhaps the killing had been happening even during his escape. The bodies were very fresh.
Jason found the reactor room lying at the end of a narrow, blood spattered hallway. He was forced to crawl and clamour over the heap of lifeless mutant corpses in order to access the door. The room beyond was a relatively small space, housing two giant electrodes and a cosole through which the vault's reactor was monitored. The two enormous electrodes of the reactor crackled with energy, filling the room with beautiful blue dancing light. A single mutant was standing at the console between them, blocking Jason's access. Its back was to him, and it was speaking in a clear, determined voice. "How calmly does the olive branch observe the sky begin to blanch. Without a cry, without a prayer. With no betrayal of despair…"
The mutant was wizened and wrinkly. Jason was forced to wonder how old it was. It was stooped and weary, yet he knew without any doubt that if it wished to, in his current state, it could still snap him in half. He circled, looking for a way to kill it. Then it turned, looking straight at him, though it didn't move.
"Who are you?" Jason asked.
"Casey Jones." The old mutant responded. "I was among the first. Even before the Great War."
They stared at each other, the light of the reactor dancing across both of their faces.
The mutant spoke first. "I knew you'd break free. I told Brutus that if he wanted this to stop, he should kill you. But he wanted to punish you first…"
"And you're here to stop me now?" Jason asked. The Wanderer was bleeding, aching, and burning with some inner pain he had yet to identify the source of. His skin was itching madly and he could barely stand. He knew he no longer possessed the strength for another fight.
"No. Exactly the opposite, as a matter of fact." The mutant moved aside, allowing him access to the console. "I suppose great minds really do think alike, hmm?"
Jason's confused gaze oscillated between the console and the mutant, who beckoned him forward, towards the shimmering light. "Some time while light obscures the tree, the zenith of its life will be gone past forever and from thence, a second history will commence…"
"What's the poem?"
"Nonno's poem. Tennessee Williams. Night of the Iguana. Not one of mine…"
Jason nodded, still confused. "Why are you helping me?"
The mutant smiled grimly. Its voice was measured, quiet, and thoughtful. "Of all the things my mind clung to during the transformation… that was it… a poem. Nonno's poem. I don't even know my real name, but I remember that poem. You can't imagine the pain, Wanderer. Of losing who you were. You have to justify it to yourself somehow, after you learn how to think again. You have to believe you're better than human, else it was all for nothing. You lost everything for nothing."
It paused for a moment, murmuring the next line of the poem, as if the poetry itself provided him strength for the following admission. "A chronicle no longer gold. A bargaining with mist and mold. And finally the broken stem. The plummeting to earth and then... The fact is that we're not better. Not in the way which counts. The important way. We've done terrible things, Wanderer. Both of us. All of us. Those that aren't human anymore. Those that think they're better. You've seen but a glimpse of it in this war, this… little fight over the ruins of Washington. Just a glimpse of what we all have done to get here. To bring things to this point."
"You killed the other mutants…" Jason said slowly.
"They wanted to stop me."
"There were a lot of them." Jason told him.
Casey Jones nodded. "I may be old, Wanderer, but I am also stubborn. And Intercourse not well designed for beings of a golden kind, whose native green must arch above the earth's obscene corrupting love…"
"And Brutus?"
"Brutus thinks he can build a nation. They have been built on blood before, but they always crumble the same way. Noone dares to question him anymore, not even me. But he is wrong. We will not stand. Our allies will betray us, as surely as night follows day. Everything is set for you, Wanderer. The console has been hacked, safeties overridden. All you need do is press but one key, and you can bring Brutus' master plan to an end."
"Wait a moment, what allies? The people who gave you the FEV II virus. What do you know about them?"
"Not as much as I wish I did." Casey Jones admitted. "They are evil, Wanderer. Far beyond what you've seen here. They are evil, and power-hungry.I met their leader once. A man named Calhoun. And his assistant. A young woman."
"Where can I find them?"
"West…" the mutant waved vaguely. "Far west. And still the ripe fruit and the branch observe the sky begin to blanch. Without a sigh, without a prayer. With no betrayal of despair." It reached down towards the keyboard.
"Wait!" Jason said. "What about the kid! There's a baby up-"
"In the birthing chamber." Casey Jones told him. "I know. My conscience will not let this stand!" The mutant's finger came down on the 'enter' key. Somewhere in the myriad rooms behind them, there was an explosion. The mutant spoke quickly. "Make your choice, Wanderer. You have around ten minutes to escape this vault. If you go back for the child, you will both die along with the rest of us. Or you can follow the signs back to the vault entrance. I'm sure you can find your own way out from there."
Once again, as with the human survivors he had found, there wasn't really a choice. The Wanderer gave him one last glare, then turned and limped out as fast as the human could manage.
Casey Jones smiled slightly as he listened to the sparks and the slow inexorable buildup of power. He said, "Oh courage! Could you not as well select a second place to dwell. Not only in that golden tree, but in the frightened heart of me…"
The Wanderer raced through the vault, adrenaline and his own determination pushing him faster than his wound would normally allow. He knew he would pay for it, but it would all come to nothing if he didn't make it out. He moved silently, his feet retracing old steps. As he passed by the room where the Enclave had first kidnapped him and stolen the G.E.C.K.. he flashed by the prison quarters where he had freed Fawkes. His feet lead him up stairs, around corners, and through the darkened, derelict, ancient, hallways until at last he reached the backdoor to Murder Pass. He hesitated for a moment, remembering the insect-like abominations. He was in no shape to fight them again.
An explosion rocked his feet, and he could hear the distant thunder of a cave-in. there was a sudden gust of wind, then a second explosion. Jason hurried forwards, sprinting through the pain and the dust and the horrendous noise. As he ran, the explosions grew in both volume and number. The entire ground began to shake. He activated his Pipboy light, only to reveal two of the creatures, scuttling down the hallway ahead of him as fast as they could go. The ground trembled, dust fell from the ceiling, and a boulder collapsed, crushing one of them. Jason ran forwards as the ceiling began to cave in. a few seconds before he passed into Little Lamplight, he spotted the other creature, impaled by a fallen stalactite.
Jason ran onwards, leaping over the cracks appearing on the floor of the cavern. He dodged through the falling debris, crossing through the main chamber of the Lamplighter's former city. He scrambled past the wreckage of Knick-Knack's store, towards the front entrance. The entire cave was moving and shifting with the explosions.
As he reached the final tunnel to the surface, there was a deafening wall of noise which burst his eardrums. The cave behind him disintegrated into a swirling morass of stone, wood, and dirt. Like a bellows tube, A rush of unyielding wind picked him up, grown more powerful within the confined space of the tunnel. Like rapid white waters, it carried him the last few meters, crushing him and pushing him through Little Lamplight's door. It spat the tumbling, wounded Wanderer out into the wasteland dawn in a giant cloud of dust and debris. Far behind him, an entire area of the wasteland rose and fell, as if the surface of the world had just taken a breath.
There was silence, except for a faint ringing noise. And pain. Pain too. Pain Jason knew he would never really forget.
His fingers closed slowly, feeling the dirt between them. He opened his eyes, but the world was a blurry mess. He could make out light and dark. He was lying on a slope… the slope into Little lamplight. Somewhere higher up the slope, mere meters away, sunlight was hitting the surface of the world.
Sunlight… healing. Safety!
Once again, Jason tried to move. He tried to pull himself up, but he couldn't. He had expended the very last of his energy in the frantic escape, and now…? his battered body was cashing in. He couldn't move any further. What was left of his clothing was caked and soaked in his blood. His bones were broken, his skin burnt, his muscles torn. He felt the darkness closing in again.
A paw blocked his fading vision, and he blinked. A wet tongue rasped across his cheek, providing a soothing coolness to the burn. Dogmeat's inquisitive face lowered into view, sniffing at him.
"Dogmeat…" Jason hissed through parched lips, though he couldn't hear his own voice. The explosion, and compressive force of the air had ruptured his eardrums. The dog licked him again. He mustered a little strength and moved an arm to stroke his companion's paw.
"Help…" he rasped. "I need sunlight…" he tried to point towards the brightness.
His canine companion gave him one last lick, then reached down and gripped the shoulder of Jason's torn leather duster. It began to pull him slowly up the slope. Jason held as best he could, digging his hands in to the dirt and providing what little extra force he could muster. Together, with him half-crawling, and Dogmeat dragging, they managed to inch their way up the slope until at last, Jason was able to rest one hand in the sunlight. He moved his fingers, feeling the warmth dance across the cracked red skin.
"Thank…" he whispered, blacking out before he could finish the phrase
The dog nuzzled his neck, then padded down the slope and curled up protectively next to him, and they slept.
How he unlocks the vault door to the birthing chamber is based on my own mechanical and electrical knowledge. It always bothered me that there was a lock to pick. That makes no sense to me, so I changed it up a little bit. Let me know if the new version makes more sense.
BTW, nearly killed Dogmeat off this chapter. Nearly did it. I have the scene all written up, but I didn't include it. I might at the end of the book. Post a 'deleted scenes' bit or something.
at over 8000 words, this is the longest single chapter I have ever written.