War. War never changes. That's what I've always heard out in the wastes. I don't know how things used to run in the days before the Great War but one thing is clear. Based on what's been told to me and everyone else in this hellhole called the Wasteland, from the battle of Anchorage to the war sport of primitive baseball, we haven't ever been a docile species. We've always been cruel and socially inept to our fellow humans. I know that better than anyone now. In my dream, I can see a bright and shining city out in the distance as I sit with my parents on our porch. Mom is smiling and petting Rust's head softly and I watch as Dad rolls up a cigar and begins to strike a match. The world from my view is gray and bleak, no different from how the world really is. But whenever my head lifts to the skies and mountains far out beyond our town, the city is sparkling. I can feel a smile crawl across my face. And then, the familiar smell of bodily fluids and worn wood crackles through my senses. I feel a hard object hit the side of my head and my eyes flick open. And suddenly, I'm back in the real world.

"Wake up, shithead." the prisoner to my left tells me after smacking my head again.

I glare at him, raising my hands to grab his throat, the sharp clank of my metal restraints ringing throughout the car. He laughs at me and spits at my feet while shaking his head. I ignore the gross remark and stare up, seeing the moonlight shining through the space between the train car door and the wooden floor beneath us. I'm in a small boxcar with eight other convicts, all locked up by the NCR for various crimes. The NCR are the scourge of New California; a crazy group of soldiers trying to carry on democracy in a world where I've witnessed a Brahmin herder kill two children for stealing her box of chewing gum. The New California Republic. What a joke.

"You smell that? Campfires." a quieter prisoner says from the dark corner.

I squint in the darkness and cannot spot the speaker, only hearing his wheezing. Apparently, a raider ripped out part of his neck ten years ago and gave him a breathing problem. Lucky, I suppose. I forget his name though. No one else remembers either. I guess we just don't care enough to bother him for a question. The prisoner beside me, a shitbag named Warner, sniffs the air and nods in agreement.

"Yeah. We must be passing a town. Probably Nordon. Seems about right, considering the distance." a female prisoner in the right corner states.

I swallow hard. I was born in the dirt-town of Nordon. My family is actually part of the reason the NCR put me away and sent me to Tibbets. Although, I can't say I blame them. I'm not a good man. But I didn't do this. Not what the NCR put me in for. I ponder my innocence for a moment, bowing my head and feeling the long scar down my left forearm before sighing in hopelessness. I don't really remember getting on the train with Warner and the rest of the inmates in my cell block and the pounding sensation on the side of my head is probably the cause of all that. I want to rub it and feel the huge knot I know is forming. I can feel dried blood that has traced down my short hair and behind my left ear. One of the guards probably knocked me out. I don't remember anything. Maybe I wasn't being compliant. Who really knows.

The rickety tracks continue to race past us, a small bump with every bolt the wheels hit. I've have never ridden inside a train before despite seeing the Old One run across the Core Region. It was known to carry illegal slaves to operation posts in the Mojave and even as far as the Capital Wasteland alongside its other cargo. I wonder if any of the cars behind or in front of us is carrying any slaves. I look over at Warner and he stares at me, bucking up and crafting a grin across his pocked face. I roll my eyes at his failed intimidation and wait for him to ask me a question like he always does.

"What do you want, Dirt?"

During our times together at Tibbets Prison, he had taken to calling me Dirt ever since I referred to Nordon as a dirt-town. Everyone had a nickname in prison so I suppose Dirt is a lot more tame than some of the poor souls locked away. I could've been Cocksucker. Or maybe The Bitch. Yeah... Dirt is the best name I could've asked for. Tibbets was a horrible place. I suppose I'm being transferred to another prison. Either that or being tossed off a cliff. What's the difference, really?

"Nothing, Warner. Do you have any clue what's going on? I got hit on the head and I can't remember what the fuck's going on."

"Transfer. That's what the guard said anyway. I saw him clock you out. He got you good." Warner laughs.

"Nah, man. We're being taken out. Taking us to the Mojave and leave us to the beasts of the desert." another prisoner says.

"Whatever, John. They wouldn't waste a train and manpower just to kill us. They'd do it in the Tibbets halls and hang us by the ceiling. You gotta think a little bit, dude." Warner replies.

I just shake my head. I don't care if I live or die. I don't have a damn thing to live for anymore. I have no life to give up or fight for. New bed or a new hole for my body to rot in. No difference to a man with nothing to lose.

"We are going west. Maybe we are headed to the Mojave. They have a jail out there." someone else says.

"A jail. Not a prison. A jail's too small. It won't have the space to hold all of us." John says.

"What does it matter?" I ask after the bickering and debates continue for a few minutes.

The car becomes silent and I can see Warner's angry face through the rays of moonlight. I look around at the few inmates I can see and shrug my arms.

"Really, though. What does it matter? We're obviously going somewhere. You don't get a fucking prize for being right. Who cares?"

"Someone seems to be upset. What? You miss your mom now that you're in town?" Warner laughed.

Once again, the urge to choke him washed over me and I had to keep myself at a distance against the bench I sat on. John eyeballed me through the ray that sliced through the roof of the boxcar. He saw the anger inside my eyes and backed up. I huffed a deep breath and turned my head to one of the cracks in the wall. I'll admit it; even though I hated my parents and my home, I was started to miss it. Things were better. More innocent. Now, it's just like I've molested my own future, ruining it for the rest of time. Warner waits for an answer and I open my mouth to start another fight to pass the time. But when I do, the brakes squeal loudly and we all get shifted by gravity to the front of the boxcar. I watch as the chains attached to the wall behind Warner break off from the wood paneling and he falls to the floor. He grunts and stands up, staring at me when he realizes that he's a free man. He wears the Cell 19 jumpsuit with pride and rolls up his sleeves, laughing as he kicks the long chain away from him. I back up against the bench and watch as he laughs with malice in his soul.

"Oh shit!" another inmate snaps from the dark corner.

"Warner! What the hell are you doing?"

"Taking care of something." the crazed Warner states.

"Come on, man. What do you have against him?" John asks.

Warner stops his intimidating stomps and turns to John. I roll my eyes and watch as he walks over to John, cracking his knuckles. The rest of the car become deathly quiet and I hear Warner's laugh start up from deep inside of his belly. I look at the inmate from the dark as he raises his hands and clears his throat.

"Excuse me, Warner. But what do you plan on doing when we finally arrive at our new residence? Are you going to kill them and plan an escape... most likely being shot more times than you have cells in your body? Or are you just going to kill these two men and sit back down?"

"What are you? Some pacifist?" Warner asks.

"No." the man says quietly.

"Just a man of logic. This isn't a wise decision."

"Who the hell are you?" a female prisoner asks.

"Inmate 43-FT-31997."

After that quip, Warner walks over to the man and growls like a rabid animal.

"You want me to rip another hole in your throat, old man?"

I hear the man giggle. He has no fear. I gulp and stare at John. He gives me a worried look and returns his attention to the confrontation in the corner. Warner slams his hand against the wall close to the man's face and the only sound remaining is the wheels rolling over the ancient tracks. Suddenly, I hear a faint fluttering noise, like that of a Vertibird. The Vertibirds are rare aerial crafts like they used before the Great War. Rumors float that the Brotherhood of Steel uses them and stole technology from their mortal enemy, the Enclave. But it's been five or six or seven years since the Enclave's been heard from. I look out from the crack in the wall and see the same scene. Desert and the moon shining down from above. No change. When I revert my attention to the two in the corner, Warner has knocked the man in the chest twice with his giant hands.

I try to stand up and struggle to fight the cuffs. I let out another sigh of disappointment and scream at Warner.

"Leave him alone! What's a bunch of words to you, anyway? Come on!"

"Dirt! Shut up!" John spits out.

"You're brave, Dirt. I'll give you that. But... with the way things look right now... it seems that you're the one with no way out."

He smiles at me and I back up in my seat on the bench, trying to look for a solution inside the room.

"There's no need for this!" John yells.

"You know what? I don't think I wasn't speaking to you."

"Shit." a prisoner whispers.

I meet Warner's eyes and he breathes in my face.

"What were you saying?" he says, his hands coming close.

I swallow a lump of fear and wince as his leathery hands reach out for me, nearing my temples. But suddenly, the train shifts again, pulling Warner to his feet and making him tumble into the front of the boxcar. We are all silent inside the train and wait as the screeching continues and a loud explosion goes off, completely throwing our balance and the boxcar literally off the track.

"What was tha-?" John asked before the chains connected to the opposite side of me rip his arms off and blood sprays all over the boxcar.

The inmate beside him screams and I leap up as fire and heat blasts through the right rear side of the boxcar. Mixed pieces of body parts, wood panels, and metal fly across our faces and my stomach drops when the boxcar flips over, scraping the track and creating sparks. I hang on to the bench and watch as Warner's unconscious body flies out of the car as it is crushed and flattened. My chains become unhinged from their metal plate and I fly through the air, hitting the ceiling of the boxcar before it suddenly becomes the bottom. I watch as the rest of the multiple-car train is obliterated in a spectacular display of fireworks and destruction. I close my eyes and brace for impact as the boxcar flips three more time, crushing trees and disturbing the sand and dust all around. We finally come to a painful stop and I flick my eyes open, seeing the ripped siding of the boxcar. My chains have become unhinged from the wall and I'm left with bound hands and a two foot chain attached. I flip over the open side and groan, feeling the muscles in my arms begging for me to stop moving.

I roll out of the boxcar and land in the mix of sand and grime, a long grassplant brushing my bloody face. I crawl to my knees and stare at the moon above. It's large and white, highlighting the train wreck and leaving nothing to imagination combined with the high fires that dance across the desert floor. I stand up and look beyond the damaged boxcar, seeing a Vertibird hovering a few feet from the ground and a spotlight scanning the scene. Gunshots suddenly erupt and between the screams of NCR troopers and the unknown enemy in the distance, energy beams fly across the wreck. I duck as I hear the familiar sound of a grenade being tossed from a launcher and hear it bounce off of my boxcar. I jump into the sands and bury myself the best I can as the explosion cracks through the dry air and the boxcar is hit by another blow. I hear the sounds of grumbles from behind me and find John on the ground, screaming weakly with twisted legs. He can't move anymore and without his arms, he'll bleed out in seconds. He screams for me to help him but I shake my head, moving on. I need to find a key. I search around a few more cars for any guards and as I pass by an overturned mess of a car, I find an injured NCR trooper. He reaches for his pistol on his hip but I swipe it quickly, aiming it at his heart. He holds up his hands and spits up blood, a large metal shard now showing itself to be embedded in his chest.

"Please. Help me. You can have the key, okay?" he pleads.

I sigh and shoot him in the head, blowing off his goggles and most of his cranium. I search his satchel and find the handcuffs key, can't helping but give a smile at my find. As my finger shoots through the keyring, I'm knocked in the head and almost fall into the pile of brain matter. I turn around and face forward, seeing Warner with his front teeth missing and a NCR baton in his hand. I look at the pistol as it tumbles across the trooper's body and just out of my reach.

"Warner!" I groan.

"Shut up!" he replies, hitting me in the ribs.

I shoot out a sharp exclamation of pain and roll to my side as he tries to hit me again. The baton hit the dirt and it flies in my face. I see the pistol's handle gleaming in the moonlight and grab it as he tries to stomp my hand. I push myself back against the NCR troopers' boxcar and fire twice at Warner. I hit him in the chest and shoulder but he keeps coming at me. He's 6'4 and has to be over a few hairs over 250 pounds. But a bullet is a bullet. I don't understand some of these people in the Wasteland. I close my bad eye and aim for his neck, the bullet slicing through the side and out the back. The fluid flies out and he trips backwards, rolling across the sand and spraying blood all over the ground before whipping his body erect. I jump up as he clasps his neck and run around him, quickly jumping on his back and wrapping my cuffs around his neck. Blood pushes out at an unnatural rate from the pressure and I scream in desperation as he tries to grab me from behind. I put my knees against his back and pull to the point where the edges of the metal cuffs begin to cut into my wrists. Blood showers the side of the boxcar and gunshots continue to fire close to us as I finally hear a sickening snap and I feel his neck become strangely loose.

He falls to the ground head-first and I am thrown into the boxcar, the breath knocked out of me.

"Fuck!" I yell as I take a moment to rest.

I scoot the cuffs out from under his neck and find the key on the ground at his feet. I swipe the keyring and quickly unlock myself, seeing the older man breathing softly against the car. His neck patch has become loose and his eyes are sunken in. I toss him the key and pick up the pistol, stuffing it inside the trooper's satchel. I begin to jog around the wreckage, finding more prisoners screaming for help and a small group of NCR fighting off the figures in the distance.

"They want Markus! Where the hell is he?" one of the troopers yelled.

"Six cars back! I'll go! What about the rest of them?"

I hide behind a car door stuck in the ground at an odd angle, feeling the intense vibrations of energy rounds hitting the thick metal. I close my mouth to keep my teeth inside as the trooper takes a breath before responding to the other trooper.

"We don't need anyone else. Take them out if they try anything!"

The trooper slides to his feet and runs in the opposite direction as I stay hidden. The trooper fires a few rounds, screaming in anger as I hear bullets bounce off of a heavy metal. I peek my head over the door and watch as two soldier wielding Power Armor stomp around the battlefield and completely decimate the remaining NCR forces. Their Power Armor differs from the kind worn by the Brotherhood of Steel. They have a devilish face mask and the darker appearance makes trust almost impossible in the Wasteland. The NCR trooper grabs a grenade from his satchel and pulls the pin with his teeth as energy rounds hit him in the chest. The grenade soars through the air and lands in the sand before exploding at the feet of the Enclave soldier on the right. The Power Armor does its job and there is no visible damage to the soldier. The trooper fires his assault rifle at their heads and I turn away as the left soldier blows the trooper away with a high-powered grenade launcher. I jump into the grasspit as the grenade blows the door apart and I turn around, scraping sand off my face as the two Enclave walk over to my prison door.

I want to jump up and help, but no it wouldn't be any use. I watch, paralyzed as the two soldiers fire into the car and blow it apart. I see blood splatter on their armor and watch a few prisoners hop out of the back. The girl from the corner limps out of the other side, a long trail of blood going down her leg. She leaps over a small fire and falls to the ground. I begin to run, hopping over the train track and grabbing an assault rifle as I try to pull her to her feet. I look behind us and she screams as the soldier punches through the wooden panels and makes them fly across the scorched Earth.

"What is going on?" she asks me.

"I don't know. But they aren't wasting any time with survivors!" I reply.

We begin to sprint, which turns into a jo, which turns into a panicked run for our lives. The sand gets deeper and more difficult to travel through and her gasps also become more deeper and difficult. The gunshots continue and I begin to hear one of the less-dressed Enclave soldiers yell out to us. Bullets whiz all around us and the sand shoots up in our faces as the projectiles hit the ground. I can almost feel the heat of a massive explosion from the Vertibird as it explodes violently, throwing two train cars high into the air, debris showering across the desert along with bodies and weapon pieces. One of the train cars hits the ground with a thunderous crash and I push the girl out of the way as wood panels dot the dunes of the Wasteland.

"Look out!" I yell, falling back with her as the second car crashes a few meters up.

The Enclave soldiers run at us and fire rounds with near-death accuracy. I turn around and fire a few bullets at the group of Enclave. I hit one of the men in the legs and they hit the ground. The lead soldier flicks on a flashlight on his head and point at us.

"Take them down!" he yells.

Me and the girl continue to jog across the sand and avoid more gunfire as we run up the side of a steep hill, seeing a small bright light in the distance. The light gets bigger and more grand as we creep closer to the other side of the dune. The girl starts to pant like a dog and suddenly falls to her knees, climbing through the sand as we inch closer. The Enclave continues to fire and I take a pause, bending down to one knee to get a better aim at the soldiers. I take a deep breath and close my bad eye again, looking down the sights. I can see the leader's chest armor glinting in the moonlight and fire six shots quickly, all either hitting him or the other men. One of the soldiers tumbles down the dunes, sand kicking up from beneath him as his partners leave him behind. The rest of the Enclave give all they have, firing every round they have at their disposal. The girl must've spotted the pistol in my satchel because she begins to fire at them as well. She hits the leader in the legs and the groin, stopping him in his tracks and leaving the rest of the Enclave to back off.

The girl falls down the hill first and I spot her too late to stop myself. The two of us slide down the side of the dunes and are completely helpless against gravity as we are tossed across the sandy hills and stop nearly a minute later. The girl coughs loudly and I grab the pistol, sticking out of the sand a few inches away from her hand. I dump sand out of the barrel and stick it back inside my satchel while checking the assault rifle's magazine as well. I only have four rounds left. I sigh and put the strap on my shoulder. The girl smiles and gives a small chuckle as she sees the city a few miles ahead of us. I look to my north and I have a brief flashback to my dream before Warner slapped me back into existence. It is almost an exact copy of the shining city I saw. I look at the girl and she falls, face first into the ground. I try to help her up and when I grab her left side, my hand becomes sticky with blood. I look at the side of the hill and I can spot some splotches as we made our tumble.

"Uh... did I get shot?" she asks.

"I think so. Here, use this." I say, ripping off my torn sleeve and tying it across her waist.

It does nothing to stop the heavy flow of blood pouring out from her side and I shake my head. The girl grabs for the city and swallows hard before slamming her head into the grains of the wastes. I pick her head up and her eyes are fluttering.

"What are you doing? We need to get up!" I yell at her.

"I can't go any farther. I'm sorry."

"We have to. They are going to kill us without any question if they come over that hill. We can make it to the city!"

"Sway." she says softly.

"What?"

"Sway. That's the city of Sway. My family is from there. They live right beside Harley's Shop."

"Then let's go meet them! You can make it."

"My name is Jones. Mincie Jones. Find Rick and Marta. They'll help you if they know you knew me. I want them to know what happened to me, Dirt."

"Why are you trusting me? How do you know I won't just head to the city and live my life?" I ask her.

"Because you seem to be a good person."

"I was on a prison train. With you. How good could I possibly be?"

"Hm. Good point." Mincie laughs.

I shake my head and watch the life inside of her body begin to leave her.

"Please. I want them to know. I don't think you would've tried to save me if you didn't care about life. Please. I want them to have closure. You can make it." she tells me.

"Oh... okay. I promise." I reply.

Her head loses all posture and falls back in my hand. Her hand becomes limp and falls back into the sand. I softly leave her body in the ground and stand up, staring at the city ahead. The city of Sway. Another explosion erupts in the far distance and I begin my trek forward. I don't know what Mincie's parents will do or what I will even do. But I have to move ahead. The Enclave have no idea what they are looking for on that train. And now, they never will. I open my hand and smile, seeing the glorious and expensive Maker's chip in my palm. The Wasteland doesn't know what's about to hit it. But they'll find out. Soon.

FALLOUT:

FORGOTTEN SON