Fuck.

At that moment, I'm not sure what came over me. I practically flew out of my chair, rummaging through the various loot piles we had around the base. I had sunk days upon weeks of my time fixing up that robot, I wasn't about to let some wasteland asshole strip it for parts.

I sprinted between each wall of sheet metal, looking through piles of weapons and shitty little trinkets. Nothing we had was good. Rusted-up machetes, a .32 pistol that had its cylinder filled with dirt, a sawed-off shotgun with one of its barrels cut way too close to the base so the kick would send the gun flying right, all garbage. Then, there it was. The safe at the bottom of the irradiated mineshaft. A laser pistol snugly fit between a plethora of broken weapons. I grabbed it, and checked the E-cell slot. Looked fully charged, so I had roughly twenty-five to thirty pulls of the trigger before I have to start running for dear life. I holstered the pistol to a clip on my waist, and was about to go charging into the wasteland after my robot.

Then, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

I'm just some lone asshole in a RobCo jumpsuit with a shitty little pew-pew gun, in a world where basically everything wants you dead. When was the last time I even fired a gun? I honestly can't remember...

All I could do was just stand there, at the entrance of the raider camp I had grown so accustomed to living in. The trigger-happy maniacs I bunked with did all the fighting without me. I almost considered turning back. Going back to my chair and saying "Fuck it" and just wait for something else to kill me. But, there was one thing that made me take that first step, one thing I knew I had to strive for, and leave that place of safety to venture out into the wastes and keep Buzzo from getting itself destroyed.

I sunk a lot of caps into buying that fucker's thruster module, I'm not about to let all that money go to waste.

And with that thought in mind, I overcame the urge to wimp out, and hit the trail.

The wasteland was about as lifeless and dry as it almost always was. Dirt, bones, bullet casings from a fight long since ended, and more dirt. I kept my wits about me, checking my surrounding regularly. Off in the distance, I could make out Tenpenny Towers, standing tall and proud like always. Last I heard from that kook Three Dog on the radio there was a dispute between some ghouls and the folks living there, some jargon about how the ghouls are being refused entry or something. I really could've care less.

After a considerably long walk, I made it to the ruins of Springvale, just downwind of Megaton. As far as I could tell, there were no signs of either Buzzo or anybody's corpses I knew. It was still quiet. Not even one of those Eyebots you see floating around, playing patriotic Old World tunes were buzzing about.

Then, it hit. A roar of an explosion boomed around me, deafening all other noise in the immediate area. Dust flew, and I was knocked clean off my feet by a massive shockwave. I was thrown into the carcass of a ruined building, propped against the last standing wall of wood and concrete. The world was nothing but a massive dust storm, I couldn't see past my nose and my eyes began to tear, making their futile attempt to remove the dust from them. I blinked several times, trying to focus. There was a bright light to the north, somehow managing to cut itss way through the wall of airborne sand. It was scarily close.

Then, as quickly as the dust storm had come, it had settled. Streets, mailboxes, cars, everything was now covered in displaced earth and sand. And, within my disbelief, I found myself looking directly at a mushroom cloud. At first, I was confused. Scared, even. My mind raced and my heartbeat quickened. Then I understood. It was blatantly obvious. That bomb those nutcases were living around. Something or someone finally got that thing to tick of

All I could do was just sit and watch. Watch the plume of atomic dust slowly roll off. Eventually, I managed to break my trance and take a good look at myself. I had a giant wooden stake gouged in my left arm. Probably was flying debris. I have no idea how I didn't realize that was there before. I'm guessing my mind was just completely focused on other matters. And as soon as I realized its existence, the pain it caused hit me. I let out a weak yelp at the sudden shock, and just stared at it. I was too weak to move. I felt like I was paralyzed from the neck down.

I risked my ass going after a stupid robot, and this was where it got me. Near death from an atomic explosion.

"God, please… Please let me die from either blood loss or the radiation poisoning… And not turn me into a fuckin' zombie…"

I started blacking out. I felt blood trickle down my arm and the warmth of radiation envelop me. I knew I was about to die. I fell over, lying on my back, mouth dry and filled with dust. Right as I was about to pass out, I felt something lift me. Grabbed me and started carrying me away.

Last I remember I was staring at the ground passing below me as I was carried, and a voice spoke out. I wasn't sure from where, but I guessed it was from the guy who grabbed me.

"Damn, friend… You managed to get yourself fucked up right and proper."

Then, I blacked out.

(Author's Note: Apologies for Chapter Three being on such a long delay from the other two. I don't have any other excuse for not writing it other than I stopped caring for a while. But, I'm back now, and I'll try and do my best to keep a regular update schedule from here on out. Thank you for reading, have a nice day.)