"Children of the Capital Wasteland, it's your teller of truths, your guru of the what-nows and what to know in the Wasteland, Three Dog here. And, I'm here with a special live broadcast! Well, ain't exactly special, to be perfectly honest. But it is important. Kiddos, it's with a heavy heart that I've gotta be the one to tell you that Megaton is… Well, to put it lightly, wiped clean off the face of the fucking Earth. You heard me right. And I know what you're thinking. 'Three Dog, it was the big ol' bomb that went off, wasn't it?' Well, you'd be right. But it ain't just a coincidence, no-sir-eee. No, that bomb was set off. No way would the thing just decide to detonate after a good two-hundred years. But who's the culprit, you ask? Well, as much as I wish I could tell you and announce 'get the fucker,' I don't. Because there's nobody left alive to say."

The harsh Sun's rays beating at my face were what woke me. At first, I thought the lord had finally swept me up then promptly flung me right down to Hell where I was sure I'd end up. But no. Same Capital Wasteland, same shithole dust. I managed to sit up, observing my surroundings. I was in one of those old pre-war military tents you see pitched up every now and then, plopped onto a medical table. To my left was a radio set on an old grimy table, playing the same shitty pre-war music as always on GNR. I don't know why everybody wanted to write a song about atom bombs, or it being the end of the world, or anything like that, but it was especially irritating to me at this moment. And to the right there were enough rad chems to keep you alive even after an atomic expl-

"Oh shit, I just survived an atomic explosion, didn't I?"

I sure as fuck did. My arm was stitched shut, cleaned, and definitely didn't have a giant piece of wood sticking out of it. Mouth was dry and my head hurt, probably from both a lack of water and Mentats.

Dammit, I could really use a Mentat.

I swung my legs over to one side of the operating table, checked to see if they still worked with a bit of pressure. They were fine, it seemed, so I stood.

"Hey, uh, person who saved me from the blast! Hello?"

No answer. Couldn't have just been a miracle or anything, I specifically remembered being lifted. I continued my way out the tent, and without realizing it, bumped right into the man responsible for rescuing me.

"Oh, whoops, sorry I did-"

I stopped dead in my tracks, recognizing the man almost instantly. The fucker with the shotgun, Mr. Pilot Light. The tower of a man easily stood a head higher than I did. He hardly even moved a muscle, silently even after we collided, silently staring off into the vast emptiness of the wastes. He turned to look at me, his gruff features screaming "I'll kill you if you so much as look as me funny, asshole." His skin was a light brown, and he had a beard bushy enough you could probably suffocate someone in it. His outfit was primarily a sort of combat armor with a ratty old duster coat over it. He looked me over for a moment before breaking into a hearty laugh and enveloping me into a bear hug.

"My good friend, I'm ever so glad to see you're alive and well! You wouldn't believe the amount of RadAway I had to pump into you to get you going strong again! I'm surprised you didn't shrivel up like a raisin from dehydration!"

All I could muster was a "W- what the fuck?"

"What, you do not like doing things for others? For shame, Jumpsuit, for shame!"

Just a short time ago this exact guy was threatening me over pilot lights and now he's hugging me and rescuing my ass from nuclear fire?

"We have not been properly introduced, have we? No, we haven't! Not since the encounter at your camp, Jumpsuit! I am Val, but most of my friends call me 'Mr. Pilot Light.' Funny name, right?"

Holy shit he actually calls himself Mr. Pilot Light?

"Uh, Yeah, I can understand why. You did kind of threaten me violently to hand over all of the pilot lights I had last-"

"Yes, yes, I understand, but you have to understand as well. You see, I am not good with trading. Or anything of that sort. So, I keep some hits of the good stuff with me. Psycho!"

"You mean the stuff that makes you insanely violent?"

"Yes, that."

"Why… Never mind. I'm Gubbs."

"I call you 'Jumpsuit' instead, alright?"

"'Jumpsuit?' Why Ju-"

"Because I am collecting pilot lights and called 'Mr. Pilot Light,' and you wear a jumpsuit! So… 'Jumpsuit!'"

I wasn't about to argue with the guy over a nickname, so I let him have his nickname for me.

"Well, friend, should you be thirsty, I have water in the bag over there."

"You have Mentats?"

"You mean the gross little pills that give you a head rush?"

"Yeah, those."

"In the bag."

As I crouched over and ruffled through Pilot Light's belongings, I sure enough found a bottle of water and a tin of smarty goodness underneath a stack of preserved, you guessed it, pilot lights. I pulled up a chair, took it, and started popping.

"So, Pilot Light," I said, the throbbing in my head starting to fade, increasing my focus. "How did you find me, and why did you bother dragging me out of that wreck?"

"Well…" He mumbled, brow furrowing and face changing to an almost constipated expression as he tried to remember. "I was heading down to Megaton to resupply. Buy medicine from the Doctor Church. Get noodles from the Brass Lantern. And most importantly, trade salvage for pilot lights with Moira. But, as I was on the approach, BOOM," he gestured his arms alongside the exclamation for added dramatic effect, "Big mushroom cloud where the town is. So, I do what any scavver with half a brain would do. Take some Rad-X and check out what survived the blast. First come, first serve as they say!"

He sipped from his bottle of water, which looked a little cloudy and grey from where I was sitting. Mr. Pilot Light cleared his throat, and continued. "So, as I make my approach I see you on the side of the road. Of course I was going to loot your body at first, but then I recognized you as the nice jumpsuit man who gave me about four pilot lights for free, so I decide I'd repay you by doing everything I can to keep you from dying my good friend. And it seems I succeeded!"

"Well, I appreciate it, Pilot Light." It was still all a crazy scenario to me. But, when he wasn't pumped up on Psycho, Mr. Pilot Light wasn't all that bad a guy. Hell, he was the best company I'd had since before I joined up with Horse's gang.

"And what were you doing when bomb blasted, friend?" Pilot Light asked.

"Well," I shifted uncomfortably, thinking of how I could word my speech without sounding like a raider, "I was out looking for some folks. And a robot. Well, more importantly the robot. It's got some sort of error with its sympathy diagnostic and went out to try and find some… Friends of mine that I'm pretty sure are just dead."

"Hm. Sounds like quite the pickle."

"Yeah. A working Gutsy that's not immediately hostile to you isn't exactly a commodity."

"And you get it working yourself, did you?"

"Sure did. I take pride in my experience with robotics."

"You look the type. No reason to just let a good robot go to waste. Here, let me make you an offer. Is that okay?"

"Shoot."

"You want your robot. And I want secret thing. Thing that I don't wanna tell you just yet, but just know that I need someone who's good with robots for. You are good with robots. So, I help you find your robot, and in return you travel with me to West to destination."

"How far west?"

"Outside of Capital Wasteland west."

"That's a long distance to walk, pal."

"Well, I'm sure you know how dangerous the wastes are. After all, you were caught in the middle of a nuclear blast…"

I shook my head. "Alright, alright, I get it. Not like there's much of anything I've really got around here anyways. I just don't appreciate the secrecy is all. Sure we'll be able to make it?"

"I am positive. Plus, in the end, we will both benefit. You will have your robot, and, well, something extra."

I thought for a moment, wondering if this was what I really wanted. "Eh, sure. Fuck it."

Mr. Pilot Light jolted up and out of his chair, bearing a big smile and outstretched arms. "Then it's settled," he exclaimed, "tomorrow, we go out, and start looking for robot! And then afterwards, west!"

"Yeah… West."

I knew I had just agreed to a giant, probably pointless trip, but having Mr. Pilot Light as a companion was oddly comforting. Probably because he wasn't an asshole raider. Nonetheless, we had an agreement.

(Author's Note: There's really no excuse for me to not have been continuing the story. I just got lazy, and didn't bother writing anything for a while. But, I'm back, and this time for SURE I'm going to upload chapters at much more regular intervals. Again, I apologize for those who are reading this. And thank you for sticking around this long if you have. Those of you who are new, I hope you're enjoying it thus far. Thank you, and have a good rest of your day.)