*I DO NOT own any rights or properties of Fallout Game Series All Characters are owned by the respected company of Bethesda Software. This IS A FANFIC and I ONLY OWN my OC's (Original Characters)!

Chapter 1: Oh Pain, Pain, Just Let It Go One Way

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"Alright, alright asshole. Move it." A man said. Dressed in a crude fashion that looks like poorly handmade armor equipment. Even though it's all iron and leather. The same goes for his colleague with him. Both holding a person in handcuffs, a young man in his mid-late twenties, twenty-seven. Blonde short hair and blue sky eyes with a white peach-skin complexion, although his face was dirty. Not too much but just noticeable given the current world state and society. The guards had to keep him up from falling due to a leg wound that looked severe, though the young man showed no discomfort nor in pain. Nonetheless, in his mind, it hurts like hell. Limping until the guards threw him to a cell. Didn't even bother to just at least sit him down with a wound on his right leg.

"So now what?" The guard asked. They both stood in front of the jail cell.

"Keep him there until further instructions. I don't know, but he just gave up after cappin' Tony like that." The guard commented on what they saw earlier before bringing the blond young man in.

"I know, right? Brains blown the hell out like that…" They both turned to the young man who sat there with a stoic stone face yet gave them his attention. Or a sign he was listening to them, "...Look here, pretty boy. On this side of town, you belong to us now! You fuck up, you get fucked!"

"Damn straight. What are ya? A merc? Why am I asking? It's typical in this wasteland. Even a punk like yourself would join. Scum." The guard remarked. The young man still kept his composure, despite his leg bleeding a bit too much yet not as harmful…for now. Then a buzzing sound came in from a small orange radio. The guard turned to the other, "I think that's the boss. Give me his shit and I'll place them on the table. He won't be needing them."

"Alright, man. I'll be back in an hour after cleaning that fucker's mess." The guard finished then left out the door. The remaining other guard sat on a bench to the cell on the outside while the Young man was inside the cell. He picked up the radio. "This Thomas here. Number 8-19-GB-21."

"Thomas? Alright. What the hell happened in the main plaza area here? Did Tony…?"

"Yes sir. Some young punk ass Merc boy blew his brains out. Then Tony's guards fired back. Just like Tony, they got shot the hell up. Luckily, one of Tony's men got a good hit on the punk's right leg or one of his legs, I think. Meaning his limping now and bleeding. He ain't screaming or nothing but he's losing blood. Should I give him a few bandages or bring in a Doc or a Stimpak?"

"Hell fucking no! Let him bleed and die. He blew Tony's head off and capped his men, let him bleed to death. We'll just say he cut himself and ended his life. But before all of that, what was he carrying'?"

"Uh, well, let's see…" The guard then placed the items. A leather belt mollie piece with about 5 pouches, one being large with carrying a few junk parts, even some Mentas to one Psycho. Then a few food items from cooked Yaoi meat steaks to even pre-war food like Cram. The one or a second large pouch had about 460 ammo rounds for a 10mm weapon. That's when the guard unholstered a 10mm Pistol off its holster that was made to be held in for a leg. With a suppressor mod attached to an extended clip. Housing about 24 rounds in the extended clip. Even a 3000 model Pipboy.

"Alright. So this punk had a 10mm Pistol with about some mods to it. Fitting. Hell, even got like that one to make the gun go quiet. Maybe some gun nut? I don't know or even care. Then some junk. Even a few chems. Hehe, he gets off high, huh? Hell…even a Pipboy! Either he's a vault boy or killed a vault dweller. Either way, he got one." The guard remarked. Or taunt the young man as again he just sat there looking at the doorway. Not even responding to the guards taunting, which did make him more hostile. "Anyway, boss…about what for the full report…"

As the guard was talking to his 'Boss', the young man may have been sitting down while just looking at the doorway, he was making a plan. Knowing that hearing the hour the second guard would come back, the young man got to work. While the guard was talking, he began to lift one leg up, his left then his right, slowly. Making both of his hands that were handcuffed back to now in the front. Standing up, moving slowly to the guard who still talked to his boss. Not even turning around to see the young man standing behind him. Waiting.

"Well, alright then. That does it then. I'll send it in. I won't need to share with everyone else at the moment thankfully. But if he dies from bleeding out. Burn his body and sell his shit. A dead fish wouldn't need it when dead, right? Think you can handle it from here?"

"Yes, sir of course. I got everything in control." Then both the guard and the Boss signed off completely. With the amount of space between these cell bars to even how close the guard was, the young man with the front of both cuffed hands then pulled in the guard close to the cell bar. Choking from the neck area by using the metal chain from the handcuffs. The guard tries everything to free himself, even trying to reach for his gun but quick moves to even the guard desperately pulling himself away from the young man. But the young man's grip was just too strong to break free. Despite the young man looking lean for some to assume, his strength was for none to underestimate in any given circumstances.

The guard seemingly started to give up, as such his eyes went bloodshot a bit. Losing air too much, but for the young man, it's a common trick when it comes to choking someone to give out too early. Then using the neck to head, he pulled the guard to the cell bar, hitting the back of his head. 3 times until a vicious neck snap by a last hit. The young man sighs in relief to some remorse, though nonetheless, it's kill or be killed world.

Taking the time to search for the body, still in the cell yet with space between these bars, he was able to go through the dead guard now. From pockets of the pants to even the jacket, he grabbed the keys. Limp walking his way to the front cell door with the key. It fit then unlocked his way out. Despite again the pain from his wounded leg, he pressed on. Going to the table desk to get his gear. Strapping his leg holster to the right side of his leg to lock his belt with his 5 pouches on his waist area. Then placing his 3000 model personal pip boy to his left arm wrist. However one problem remains…

"Goddamnit…" He hissed, cursing himself then looking down his bleeding right leg. Yep, a damn good shot to the right leg. Sure, it could've been worse but this wound is dripping a trail. Something that would compromise his position if he needed to hide or ambush. What's even worse is that this gunshot was from a Pipe-Pistol. A crude, easy to make yet poorly designed gun for Settlers or Raiders. Mostly Raiders, yet does nasty damage to any limb of the body, even to the legs when it does the worst. "...bullet to the leg from a shitty gun? Ha, that's so rich." He sarcastically remarked. Now the time is no more of jokes as he hurriedly thought of any possible way to get this wound to stop bleeding. 'Alright, alright, alright, calm down…The guard said he'll be back for an hour. So maybe I have…40 minutes still? No. I have to think less. Maybe 20 to 10 minutes? Reasonable. Alright…' Finishing thinking to himself.

He moved in to the desk, pulling the drawers one by one for a med kit. None here. Moving to one of the lockers. It was locked. He could pry or pick lock it but he would need more time, no for here. Then moving back to the guard on the floor, searching through quickly from his body while glancing at the door, he found a pair of scissors. Not medical or special but just average scissors yet looked sharp enough. Without bandages, he figured at least a piece of cloth would halt the bleeding but would need serious medical equipment treatment for this. Using the guards' shirt to half of his black cargo pants, then wrapping both one on one to tinning to his wound on his right leg.

Taking the whole time to wrap the wound completely yet still limping until he finds or buys a Stimpak from anywhere, someone was coming, the second guard. Quickly the young man ran to the other side of where the door would open. Then it went completely open as the second guard then rushed to the dead guard.

"H-Hey! No, no, no Thomas, man! Fuck!" He shouted in grief. Except that didn't stop the young man quickly pulling his pistol out then fired two shots to the second guard in his neck to head, thankfully the suppressor was still kept on, making these shots not as explosively loud as it would normally be without it. Making his way out of the door to closing it. He limps out of there at the fastest pace the best can. Thankfully this area isn't as guarded as he thought of to be. For a cell jail to place bad people here and there, this was kind of dangerous or detrimental for the people, although honestly the young man could care less then limp away far as possible. Reaching to every main area of people, though again it wasn't where everything just happened there but a trading area. Going in to blend in, he saw a fedora hat, then a large-cloth rug, grading them off a bench with no looking. Placing the hat to having the cloth-rug wrapped around his upper torso.

Making himself able to leave the area, sure some eyes looked or glanced at him but just minded their business regardless or turned away. Getting over the gates after did end up paying a hefty price over just 1,000 caps. After bidding goodbye to one of the ignorant guards who waved farewell, this was truly the time for the young man to limp skip away quickly and like hell. Hoping of what it seems. Going to the ruins of Boston. Or the Northern side of the Boston area, which was…like what the rest is, destroyed. Burned. Buildings collapsed. Cars beyond repaired. Many to few are occupied by either Super Mutants or Raiders or even the Gunners protecting, looting, hoarding or staying to slay anything to anyone coming just an inch would be shot, taken or eaten.

Nothing but hell on Earth. After being way far away from that settlement that was heavily protected, he sat down to a side of a building in exhaustion then looked at his leg wound, yep, still bleeding but the handmade cloth still kept it in as it could. He looked at his Pipboy, switching the dial to display a map with time and date, 10/25/2287, 12:34PM, "Noon…Figures." He put his Pipboy down then just sat down for a few minutes to catch his breath, however he knew he couldn't stay long if hostile threats would come by. These threats are just too unpredictable in groups and would be just impossible to fight back in this state that the young man was. Not only would he pass out and then die by blood lost to just getting killed by anyone is a death warrant.

Slowly standing up while using a wall to balance himself. Limping once again with his pistol out once more, without his suppressor this time. Surveying the area around with his pistol, it was safe but kept a low profile to check the rooftops for enemy snipers every limp footstep. 'Thank God, if there ever is one, that the sun is still out.' Leaving the area to move to another city area, Park Street Station, once again still checking every area to stay in the shade to in the shadows of using the destroyed buildings as cover. Keeping himself at least not seen but now he seemed to sway his body left and right, 'G-Goddammit…! I…I feel…I feel….!' Now the signs of blood loss are kicking in now. The young man could barely keep himself balanced. He's blinking every now and then, quickly, over and over to keep himself away from passing out. That's why he needed to catch his breath, but nonetheless still lost blood slowly.

Then just all of the sudden he landed on a car. He could barely keep his body up. His teeth were chattering to now feeling colder and colder, then looking at himself, it looked like his skin was more whiter than ever, "N-N-No…no fucking way…that bullet did that much to…me…" Then he fully collapsed onto the ground. The young man saw his handmade bandage of cloth being loosen, it wasn't as tight enough as he thought. Even walking occasionally felt loosen when leaving that settlement area. Now here he was, on the once known-street city road of Boston, looking at the sky. "...so…this is how I go…? I…die…h-here…I…no…no, please…n-not now..." Tears slowly came out. He hated this feeling. Tears. Crying. Looking pitiful. Pathetic. Words coming out into his head. Repressed words he tried to avoid or think of himself. Seems it was…all for nothing in the end.

Then he slowly closed his eyes. Maybe he would finally see what it is to be dead. Peaceful for once. He was alone after all. No one to mourn for him. No one to remember him. Send flowers. Or even make a grave for no one like him. Hell, not even one to be here to say 'I love you.' 'I will miss you.' 'I'm proud of you.' 'Goodbye.' The only thing he could only barely hear someone calling out. He didn't care. Not anymore. But the voice sounded concerned, even worrying. 'Enough of that fake shit…Just…let me die…' The voice, to now sounding multiple people came to him but his vision was blurry. He could feel at least two people carrying his torso and legs somewhere. Who is doing this? Why do they care? What do they want from a useless person like the young-man just down on his path of destruction to others and himself for the sake of caps and living?

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"Well, Doc? How is he?" A man asked a Doctor. The man had darker-brown shade of hair with brown eyes that were lighter. Then the outfit he wore was…interesting among people of the Commonwealth or in Diamond City. The outfit was what everyone would say, a Vault-Suit, or Vault Dweller. But those are rare to see in the Wasteland, or here in the Commonwealth. Most paths that came from Vaults didn't last as long. As some would either die out or become Raiders when the going is tough and so many would snap. However this man was…different from the average Vault Dweller.

His name, Nathan "Kyle" Nilson, or Nate everyone would call him. Different from a Vault Dweller was, well, he's over 200 years old. 210 years old. Oh, well his actual age would be in his thirties, thirty-five years old. Lived in Pre-War America. Fought in the Sino-American War. To now…or was frozen for two centuries to now thaw out. Looking for his child. Only one child is him and his…late wife, Nora, in this unforgiving wasteland of this once great nation. Even being the Sole Survivor of Vault 111. So in his mind…he could be the only one from the Pre-old World to a new world. Currently Nate is with Diamond City Doctor's, Dr. Sun, the grumpy one who does mean well, but just be serious with your medical problems. Dr. Sun gave Nate a mix of annoyance yet professional look at the Sole Survivor. "Don't worry yourself. He's now stable. With a shot from a Stimpak to give a dose with blood-pack, he will be able to walk again. Just…a miracle you found him. Given the way you found him, he was passing out from blood-loss."

"Yeah…a miracle." Nate soberly muttered. Looking at the young man on the bed with empathy. Everyone is…down either on their life or luck in the Wasteland. Despite Nate trying to find his son and answers, he couldn't see another fellow man dying from a gunshot wound. "You said a .38 bullet hit his leg, right? One of the vital areas?"

"Oh yes, sir. Hit pretty hard and clean through but caused a severe blood-loss. I was just surprised that he was able from the looks of it, kept at bay with this handmade-cloth bandage but maybe he was limping or running away too much as it caused it to loosen up. Whatever this fellow is, he knows what to do when a medkit or Stimpak is nowhere to be found or gone." Dr. Sun, to Nate or some people who listen, rarely hear him praise someone to heal themselves or find other means to patch themselves.

"I see. Well…I got to go. You, um, would stay with him? I just…I just wanna see if he's able to talk or do basic stuff." Nate asked as the Doctor nodded.

"Of course. Go on to your business. Also…thank you for finding Detective Valentine. He may be a Synth but he's a good one here."

"Oh…yeah, of course. I'll be back, Doc." Nate left to head Valentine's Detective Agency. As the Doctor checks the young man to rerun a stock check of medical items in his stand. With a clipboard and pen in hand, the Doctor checked off each box to write. Then the young man began to move his head. His body was a bit sore but not in pain as he sat up on a mattress bed on the ground. The Doctor turned to him with a mild-surprise look at the young man.

"Ah, you're awake now." He commented. The young man just sighs and groans at him, then looking to his right on a Blood-pact then sees his right-leg with a clean-fresh wrapped bandage. The young man looked at the Doctor again.

"Well, Doc. I'm up now. Could I go?" The young man asked. Impatiently yet still cooperative at least.

"Well…" Looking at the blood-pack and then the young man who looked truly once more. Doctor Sun nodded, "Of course. And don't worry about paying me with caps. Someone already did it for you. I should say you should find them. After all, they brought you here."

The young man for once was taken back. Someone…brought him here? In Diamond city? Paid his treatment to be healed. He slowly nodded but still looked at the Doctor, "Okay…is there anything else I need to do before I go?"

"Ah, you're right. Here…" Doctor Sun pulled out a piece of paper then wrote down, "...patient file number 81-2-50. I shall ask a few questions in case any other harm is done to you. Sure, you got shot in the leg and took a good 5 hours of sleep. Although sometimes some patients do forget who they are or where they came from. So I'll just ask some questions. Don't worry, it'll all be private."

"Sure. Fine. Fire away."

"Alright, then. What is your name?"

"Rex. Or well, it's actually Trevor Rexford, but everyone calls me Rex."

"Alright then, Mr. Rex. Do you know where you are? From the way you looked around, it seemed you were familiar with this place."

"Yeah. Too familiar. Yes, Diamond City. Or city market."

"Very good. Final two. Mostly, did you come from a Vault? Or did you live in one? Since you have a Pipboy yourself. Just like with the other Vault Dweller."

"..." Rex went silent from the question.

"It's alright. Your information isn't going to be shared. Just need to know."

"...No. Just took it from a dead corpse a year ago. Most Dwellers don't last long in the wasteland anyway."

"Fair point. Do you remember what occupation you do? Or do you have a job? Caravan, Farmer, or…a mercenary?"

"Mercenary. Ex-mercenary. I just got in some crossfire with some assholes. Got shot and limped everywhere I could to get away. I don't do hired gun-work any more. Now are we fucking done here or what? And can I leave or get these needles off my arm, please?" Rex demanded. Agitated a bit. Ready to leave.

"Alright, fine. You're released. Just don't get shot again. Maybe next time it won't be your leg again." Doctor Sun took off the needles one by one. Then wrap bandage cloth with tape to keep the bleeding stable. Rex nodded. Stood up. Okay, he was healthy. Ready. Then notice all of his gear and gun wasn't taken. Meaning they left it for him. "Oh and young man…" Rex turned back to the Doctor, "...if you want to pay the person who got you here. Check at Valentine's Detective Agency."

Why should he? Rex was…a loner. And will always be. Whenever people are with him, it's always a shitshow. His last employer could agree with what Rex is known for in groups of people. However, it would be disrespectful in Rex's mind to not at least know and thank whoever got him here to be healed. "Sure…I-I will. Thank you, uh, Doctor."

"Alright then. Carry on with your day." Rex nodded then left the Diamond City market…In a Stadium. A baseball stadium to be exact. The whole 'city' is all of nothing but metal-boxes standing one by one of stands. Sure, it's impressive but still not as good as a city would be. If anything, the only thing why it's even considered a city or the safest settlement is with its walls to a higher number of guards or security here. Walking his way to the entrance to the main area…

"Oh, hey!" Rex turned to one of the stairways. Rex saw Nate, in a vault-suit with a few Raider-leather armor chest pieces to shoulder-pads and legs with everyone's favorite Synth-Detective, Nick Valentine, in the classic-50's Detective outfit. Ragged trench-coat, fedora hat. Sure, his face was…a mix of plastic and metal though still had the look of no one to mess with. Many called him a "prototype type" of Synths. And he can see why. Although Rex knew of the Commonwealth's "boogeyman". The Institute. Many don't truly know who they are, other than just being a group of scientists being away from the topside, also known as the Commonwealth. They send in what they call, Synths. The latest we see are those who look like humans. Sweat, smell, taste, bad breath to even bleed like a human would. The true difference is only they look identical to you or act so…different towards you. Agents. Rex knew about this. Or well, everyone in the Commonwealth just knows who this threat is. Question is, who are they truly? What are their goals? Or…where to find them. Other than that, Rex acknowledged them with a wave, "Hi. Are you…or well…was it you two who got me here?"

"Yeah. And with Piper, too. She was kinda the one to hold your wound tight as me and Nick here carried you." Nate said as Nick nodded to tip his hat off to Rex. "You feeling okay?"

"Wha-? Yeah. Yeah, yeah I'm okay. Just, uh, haven't been here in awhile." Rex replied.

"Understandable." Nate nodded with a smile.

"Well, kid, glad you're okay. Knowing the Doc, he'll fix you up just right." Nick added his presence.

Rex for once gave a short-smile though again a bit struck they carried him here. "Well…t-thank you. Both of you. And this Piper gal or something, I guess."

"Of course. Anytime. Say, mind I get your name? My name's Nate." Nate introduced himself.

"Name's Nick." Nick added.

"Nate. Nick. Name's Rex. Or Trevor. No, just call me Rex." Rex then introduced himself. They both nodded. Although Nick tapped Nate's shoulder.

"Hey, if you want, I'll go up here and see Kellogg's house from here. Or…do you wanna do this tomorrow?"

"No, no. I'll be there. Though…" Nate turned back to Rex, "...Hey. Me and Nick are…in a case of mine. Yes, yes it's weird but…we could use a few people on this. We may need a few backups on this. It may involve us walking a lot all over the Commonwealth. I'll be sure to pay you." Nick, despite having no eyebrows, made a face if he had eyebrows. Nate smirks a bit. "If not. And understandable of this was, eh, all too sudden and It's okay. It's your choice."

Rex, much like Nick, raised his eyebrow at this sudden invitation. They only just by…circumstances. Or was this Nate, fellow naive and open for everyone or…does he mean well? Sure, by every means by any wastelander, including Vault Dwellers wouldn't need to rescue someone like Rex himself. Rex was…compelled to say the least. Questioning to do. After all, he was a merc, or no. Ex-Merc hired for any service other than killing. Well, at least. He sighs to himself, 'I hope I don't regret this shit.' "Alright. I'll…I'll come. And…you don't need to pay a cap for nothing. I mean…No, nothing. Nevermind. Yeah. I'll be up there. Gimme a sec." Rex announced his time for them. Nate smiled while Nick kept a concerned but accepted Nate's choice, although he did express his concern.

"You sure Nate? I don't mind any help at all, but this is your case and something…very personal for you. Do you want to bring people along in this?" Nick asked. Not disagreeing but do want to hear his employer's output while Rex made his way up with them.

"I'm sure. Besides my gig as General of the Minutemen. We do need as many recruits. Plus…he looks young and lost. Looking at him on that ground was a calling that needed help. I…I know I need to look for my son and find the bastard who took my wife's life and my baby boy. But that won't stop me from lending a helping hand." Nate answered Nick's question. Nick nodded and raised both of his hands up.

"I understand. Just all I need to know is what you were doing or going with this. And hey, you're in charge of this." Nick said, giving a smirk. Rex finally made his way by scratching his head.

"Well then…" Nate extended his hand for a handshake, in which Rex took then shook. "...welcome. Don't worry, even if you say don't pay I'll be sure to give a good amount of supplies in our travels and cases."

"I see. I understand." Then he shook Nick's robotic hand. "Wow. You're…both almost tall."

"Really? I thought I was just the right normal height." Nate commented. Nick just shrugged his shoulders.

"Well alright then. We three should be going to one of our leads." Nick looked at Rex with his yellow-eyes, "To bring you up to speed or I'll let Nate here tell you everything but I'll keep it short. The man we're going to look in his house is named Kellogg. He's…the one who killed Nate's wife and took his infant boy. All we know was he's a merc for hire. Although no one knows who he works for or answers to. So we're heading up here," Nick points to a metal-house, "then there. From there we should find where Kellogg is or went to."

"Or at least…know to find some answers. It may sound something personal but it's something I've been doing since I got thawed out. Whatever we do is to find answers about my child's disappearance. Can I…I trust you, Rex?" Nate asked.

Rex was again compelled to this. On the first hand, he showed Nate a sympathetic nod. He too lost someone close. Just lost a family member himself. So he understood this was personal. Hell, if Rex was in Nate's shoes he would've done the same. Even understanding that the man is still coping with the loss. Rex placed a hand on his chin to think. But nothing is more satisfying than getting revenge on someone who took your family. Hearing what this 'Kellogg' person is or what he did, it's already scummy killing someone's wife except taking someone's child away from them did strike Rex to at least assist Nate and Nick. In which he turned to them with an approving nod, "Yes. Yes, Nate, you can trust me. Nothing in this world that actually angers me more is killing someone's spouse than taking their child away. A baby? Two defenseless people who couldn't protect themselves from someone like of this Kellogg fellow? Of course. And…I know how it feels. Losing family."

Nate went-eye struck. Same with Nick but a lower level than Nate but knowing lost is hard for people of families. Friends or pieces of junk in the wasteland can be replaced but when it comes to bonds of family, blood or not, that is not something that can be replaced. Once it is gone, then that person close is gone, both emotionally to mentally. Nate placed a hand on Rex's right shoulder, "Thank you. Thank you. We're in this now."

All three nodded, then went to Kellogg's house. The mysterious merc for hire home to at least houses answers. At least a lead. Clue. Something for Nate. The Sole Survivor. Nick. The Synth Detective. Rex. A lost boy in the wasteland. All stood there at Kellogg's house ready to deal for answers. Even if it means what they get may impact them all more…

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"AGH! P-Please…no more…no more, man…P-Please...PLEASE-!" A man begged but then received another blow to the head. Over and over again. Before he finally died out from the heavy wounds. Then a mysterious pair of hands wiped off the hammer. The room was dim-light. Meaning it was dark yet light shone through. The mysterious stranger placed the hammer down on a tray with other blunt instruments for a means of torture. Then the stranger opened a bottle of Bruton Whiskey and drank it whole. This…stranger was indeed, strange and cruel. A knock happened to a door as the stranger opened it with someone in a type of suit with a fedora hat. The person in a suit, a male, looked a mix of cautious, disgusted, even fear of this stranger.

"Ummmm…you're…(Ahem), David Warwick, right? Skinny Malone, my boss, has a…uh, hit on some few loose ends."

The stranger, a man with full bread (a type of Doomsday bread) in a mechanic suit with a harness that held his 10mm SMG with bloody hands on the whiskey bottle. His brownish-red hair was a messy to long staring at the Ganger with bored-sinister look but took the paper in the file, "Anything else for the fat-fuck? Or do I need to gut you out to get more info?"

"U-Uhh…No, no, n-n-no, no sir! That was it! That was it! H-H-H-He'll pay over 1-1,500 caps for your service!" The Gangster addressed. Stuttering in fear from the threat made by David. David is…what Raiders could be or what they are, ruthless, killing-animalistic individuals. David was a born-breed of Raiders in the Wasteland. A cruel-sadistic one of that. For hire. Any price of caps or even doing jobs for free.

"Alright. Get out. While you can, meathead." David threatened. The Gangster quickly ran as fast he could away from David who just chuckled loudly as he took another swig of whiskey into his mouth as he closed the door.

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To Be Continued…

Author's note: Yes…I am, I am alive and BACK BABY! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I AM BACK BABY! Sorry for caps, (hehe) but yes, yes I am back. And yeah…I'm breaking promises am I, huh? Yeah I know, I know I made that Batman One-Shot to make a series but…I didn't feel like it or I just…I don't know. I can't describe the feeling but it's like you WANT or HAD an idea to write a series then it just goes away and ceases to exist outta your mind. Well, to cut this explanation…I guess I go back to my ways of making OCs type stories with canon worlds/characters to interact. Since, I do enjoy a good OC story here and there.

So yes, what you see in the title is what I am FINALLY, FINALLY gonna do a FULL…FULL series on this site for now on. And it will be Fallout. Yes, Fallout, baby. And before all of you ask…yes, I have been grinding and played New Vegas and 4 for…hours I barely remember lmao. I guess I had a nostalgic night train of thought one day with my buddies we should look at Fallout or any RPG games and the popular one at the moment of that was Fallout, so me and my boys were playing/taking turns playing the game (which it was Fallout 4 since one of them had it a while) then it hit me on some AMAZING ideas. Yes…I did join a few Fallout RP servers, made a couple of OC's and did a few drawings of OC's. Yes, when I get interested in games like Fallout, I make ideas. Yes, mostly of the hours I was playing Fallout 4 (both male and female sole survivor at levels to 35 to 46) and did pick up top picks or underrated picks of companions likes of, Preston Garvey, (my playthrough of female Sole Survivor max affinity) , Curie, (another playthrough of male sole survivor at max affinity), Piper to even MacCready and Danse, best companions to take on the road but the TRULY BEST ONE…Is Dogmeat, of course. Best of them all.

But on track…I think this would be a series I wanted to keep on doing, OC's and Canon-worlds/characters. So yes, this WILL be a rated M story, yes like it in the games here's the: (Strong Language, Blood and Gore, Intense Violence, Use of Alcohol and Drugs, Nudity, Strong Sexual/Suggestive Themes |-aka LEMONS MY DUDES!-| ) So yes, PLEASE, PLEASE read it at your OWN risk. I will place this in the summary to every beginning of chapters just to be safe, so yeah, no T ratings and such.