It was night now, the dimmed lights of the halls were the only sign of the passage of time. Not a soul stirred among the metal walls, built ages ago by hands unknown. And such as it were in those ages long forgotten, the night belonged to those with ill intent. Slowly, carefully did a lone figure creep through the confines of the metal tomb deep beneath the earth. With his feet cushioned by thick socks, his steps made no noise as he made his way with purpose. His head turned this way and that as he moved through the winding halls, ducking into shadows and behind cover at the barest sound from nearby. He couldn't be caught, his fate would not be a kind one if he were found before his mission could be complete. His life, all of their lives hung by a thread that was his mission, and one wrong step could snap it in an instant.

Slowly, quietly, carefully he crept until at last he reached the door that was his destination. From within his blue vestments he withdrew an item that proved his maleficent goal. A knife, dulled from years of use, but sharp enough for its next task. A low exhale escaped him as the figure readied himself, he had been slow, peaceful, and kept his base nature hidden beneath a veil of politeness. It was now time to turn away from that man and become who he knew he truly was.

The door was opened, and he rushed inside. There were three men within, two were armed and armored. The personal security barely had time to react, the figure's knife sunk into one and then the next with unexpected. Piercing through the necks of both, leaving them bleeding out onto the floor. And then there were two within those dimly lit chambers. The man, and his target.

"You." Said the old man, the ruler of that place, that prison beneath the mountain. "I should have known you'd try something like this." He snarled accusingly. "I have spent my whole life keeping you all safe and secure here! Treated you like my own son! Damn you boy do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"What I have to."

He lunged at the old man. With knife in hand he cleared the room as quickly as one could blink. With the blooded knife in an ice pick grip, the figure brought it down towards the old man's face only to be stopped mere inches away, hands gripped tightly around his wrist keeping the blade at bay. Pulling away a fist slammed into the old man's stomach, sending him lurching forward. A gasp for air turned into one of pain as the knife was reversed and plunged into his chest, slipping between his ribs and piercing his heart.

"You... will lead them.. to their doom." His words came ragged as his life faded from his form.

"No. I'll lead them to freedom." And then as the elder fell to the floor, a stillness came over the room. The last standing man still bathed in darkness looked down at the body of the man who had raised him, his face stoic as he wiped the blood from his knife.

"One of the guards is still breathing back there."

"Gordon would you shut the fu- wait he is. What the fuck?" A low snicker filled the air.

"Both of you quiet!"

A clamoring sounded behind the door moments before it was opened, and the rest of the rebels fell inside. "Is it done? Is it finished?" The most disheveled among them asked.

"It is." Answered the man.

"The savage did it. He killed the overlord!" A call came from the back of the group.

"He did. He has freed us." The disheveled man answered. "But he is no savage, he is our savior. He is our leader. We will not survive out there without a man like him. We have asked so much of you already, but this is your destiny. So will you do it? Will you lead us into the Wildlands above?"

"I will." Answered the overlord's killer.

"Then we are with you... Grognak!"

A cheer filled the room, accompanied by the triumph orchestra that played the titular hero's theme music. The sound filled the recroom as the film's credits began to fill up the screen.

"It's a fucking travesty they only made three of these." Said Carl as the lights brightened.

"Hardly." Scoffed Gordon. "These films prove that visual media is clearly subpar to audio drama. There were soo many mistakes throughout it was unbearable. You don't have that sort of thing in the theater of the mind, it's the perfect storytelling medium! And don't get me started on the lead actor! He makes a terrible Grognak."

"Watch your mouth there Gordy or Albert might smack ya." Said Lyle.

"I will. You know who that was right?" Albert said from the back of the room, his arms crossed as he lounged on the couch.

Gordon paused as he often did as his brain processed what was in front of him. "Okay. So Vincent Cole was-"

"A fucking saint." Carl interrupted. "You know he's the whole reason you got all those Silver Shroud tapes right? Crazy motherfucker brought suitcases full of them when he came down here. Hell, half the movies and tapes we got here are because of him. So you wanna fucking besmirch the saint Cole himself here in his cathedral?" Carl asked, spreading his arms to indicate the movies and holotapes within the Vault's rec-room.

"You talk shit about my great-grandad and I'll break your nose real quick." Said Albert. "Might even drag you down to the mausoleum and make you apologize to his grave."

"All I'm saying is that he looks nothing like how Grognak's described." Gordon said, waving his arms defensively.

"The fuck you mean?" Asked Carl. "Man's as ripped as Max is, how the fuck does he not look like him?"

"Grognak's eyes are supposed to be a dark grey, not blue." Said Gordon.

"And?" Asked Albert after an uncomfortable pause.

"And what?"

"Motherfucker, you're bitching about eye color?" Yelled out Carl.

"When adapting a character it's vital to retain the creator's vision for them! The creators of the Silver Shroud were always careful not to allow-"

"Nobody cares Gordon!" Shouted out Natalia from the far end of the room, stepping out from the deep shadows of the dimly lit rec-room. "Don't bother trying to retort, I can see your brain frying itself already." She said as she walked past to exit the room.

"If eye color's all it takes to ruin a movie for you then maybe you should stick to your radioplays." Albert said as he took a sip from his drink, his only one for the night and a stark contrast to his usual amount during movie nights. His mood had been gloomy enough without the aid of any alcohol, every drop of water looking more and more like sand running out of the proverbial hourglass had that effect on a man.

"That's why I do!" Gordon said defensively. "The thing is, when going from page to screen there's so many different variables one has to consider. Not so with audio dramas, there's only the actor and the microphone. Truly the greatest testament to an actor's strength is if they can capture the essence of a character solely through their voice."

"So you're saying you're a shit actor. Good to know." Carl shot with a laugh. Gordon's attempts at portraying the Silver Shroud in their own radio plays was always met with the same results, complete and utter failure.

"As I've said before, my acting is fine. It's just creative differences, that's all!"

They were all going to die. Every minute that passed the water chip corroded more and more, and when it finally gave out they would all perish shortly after. This unavoidable truth was shoved right under their noses and yet there they were arguing about their entertainment like nothing was wrong. Albert couldn't stand to hear another second of it so he made a hasty exit from the rec-room and made his way to his own quarters.

Designed to support one thousand people over one hundred housing units had been built, in the early days a bunking system had to be in place for any sort of comfort. Things weren't quite that cramped anymore, and Albert only shared his unit with 3 others. His parents, Dean and Jane, and his grandmother Miranda. And within the cramped living space of their quarters, Albert found most of his family all seated at the table playing a rousing game of Monopoly, a pre-war board game that bored Albert to tears more often than not.

"Albert? It's a little early for you to be home isn't it?" His grandmother asked as she finished moving her piece around the board.

"Yeah Carl and Gordon are going at it again and I just don't want to deal with that tonight." He answered her, squeezing behind her chair to make his way into the small private kitchen that each of the living quarters was supplied with. Despite the Vault having a mess hall of a staffed kitchen, the joy of a homecooked meal wasn't something that Vault-tec would deny the lucky residents of Vault 13. With just enough space for a refrigerator, sink, counter top wash machine combo, and a nuclear powered oven, each housing unit had its own personal kitchen and bathroom alongside the smaller bedrooms. Though a tight squeeze, it was still home and one that the Coles were forever thankful to have.

Albert however wasn't feeling thankful when he stepped into the small kitchen. What he saw instead filled him with anger. His mother Jane was a tall woman with curly brown hair that she often paid more attention to than anything else, as it was kept styled and full of artificial color in a fight against the greys that had begun to sprout here and there. With the sink running on full blast she hummed a little tune to herself as she fussed over her hair in a pocket mirror she kept on hand at all time, the sight of the oblivious wastefulness caused a rumble of irritation as Albert all but pushed his way into the kitchen and turned off the sink.

"Heeey! I was using that!" His mother protested.

"Yeah you washing your hair in it?"

"Very funny." She said as she put her hand to the faucet to turn it back on, an action that Albert wouldn't allow. His hand shot forward and grabbed her own, causing her to gasp in shock. "Albert! That hurt!" She said, pulling her hand away. "What has gotten into you?" She demanded as she held her hand.

"You're wasting the water!" Said Albert, raising his voice with anger.

"Wasting water?" His father's voice came from a few feet over. Dean Cole could have been an impressive man if he had ever spent any time in the Vault's Gym, instead as one of the computer technicians he was as thin as he was tall. With spindly arms and a meek demeanor, the middle aged man was a far cry from his grandfather's imposing figure. "Well what kind of ridiculousness is that? Wasting water, why I've never." He said with a loud voice and a shake of his head.

"Honestly Albert, we're concerned about you. You've been acting so strange lately, you just haven't been yourself at all." His mother said. "What sort of hogwash have your friends been putting into your head this time?"

He had thought it best not to tell them, their need to gossip about everything to everyone would have just caused a panic. But it had been weeks and ever since he had first brought the issue up with the Overseer he had been unable to get back in touch with him. No updates, no news, just excuses and stonewalls. Maybe a little bit of panic was what the Vault needed, maybe it was time for the old man's wishes to be disobeyed.

"We're running out of water."

"No we're not." His father snorted in disbelief.

"Yeah we are. Heard it from Ben himself. The waterchip itself is dying." He explained.

"Well that's fine honey, they'll just put a new one in. We have extras for everything here." His mom said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"We don't have an extra one alright? Ben's torn apart the Vault top to bottom trying to find one. I even spoke to the Overseer about it and we don't have a replacement." He argued. He knew they wouldn't listen, they were too loyal. Most of the Vault's inhabitants were save for a few here and there who managed to ask the right questions and were punished for it.

"Look champ." His father said, putting an arm on Albert's shoulders. "I know you got all these big ideas swimming around in your head, and that can make you come up with some scary thoughts. But there are two things in this world that you can believe in, and that's the Lord above, and the Vault below." He said with a large and obnoxious grin on his face, looking quite pleased with himself for that particular line.

"Too true dear. Too true." Jane nodded along in agreement.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Albert exclaimed. "I need you guys to actually pay attention to what I'm saying here. When that chip breaks it's over for us. No more water, that's it. That's all of us dying of dehydration within a few days."

"Okay Albert. I understand." His mother said in a condescending tone of voice. "I won't leave the sink running ever again. Vault-Scouts honor." She said, raising his hands up in the scout salute. "Will that make you happy?"

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

"Albert! You watch your language young man! I don't care what has you all upset, you keep that filth out of your mouth." She yelled out as Albert stormed away to his bedroom.

If the living area was small, the bedrooms were downright claustrophobic. Room enough just for a bed, that pressed against the wall, a small dresser at the bed's foot, and a few shelves on the walls there wasn't much in the way of personal space there in the Vault. Even so it was his room and the only place within the Vault that Albert could be alone. That was of course when there wasn't a knocking at the door.

"What?" Albert said after some time or staring up at the ceiling from his bed.

When the door hissed open it was neither his mom or dad that had come to lecture him further, it was instead Miranda, his grandmother. A frail old women, face full of wrinkles and once jet black hair turned silver, Miranda had spent nearly seventy years underground. She was among the first generation born there within Vault thirteen. Squinting behind her large framed glasses she slowly made her way into the room and shut the door behind her, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. Looking down at her grandson she let out a soft sigh before speaking in a soft voice. "Well so much for my flower garden. The daisies were just starting to bloom too." She said in a disappointed tone.

"That's what you're worried about? Your flowers?" Albert asked her with a scoff.

"Well, I worry about you three anyways so there's nothing else new there." She said with a small smile. "I'll tell the girls at the knitting club, and the book club, and yes even the gardening one. Not that those bitches will listen but it won't hurt to try." Miranda was always the first to believe Albert, it had been her after all who had taught him the power of his words. The first generation was also known as the most rebellious. They had all shared an anger for the world they had been denied. The first generation to know that they were all doomed to live in the Vault, and die in the Vault.

"Thanks grandma." Albert said with a sigh. "This is gonna be bad." He muttered under his breath.

"Probably, but your father's half right you know. We just have to keep the faith that God will see us through this." She said with a comforting smile.

"Yeah, bet the people up top thought that when the bombs were dropping." Albert bit back.

There was a pause, followed by a nod. "True, mean's we're owed a little bit I think." She said with a chuckle. "Someone will figure something out Albert." She said with a gentle pat to his knee as she rose from the bed. "Remember." She said, turning to look down at her grandson. "A Tunnel Snake never gives up."

Albert couldn't help but laugh and roll his eyes. "You Tunnel Snakes are a bunch of geriatrics. Pretty soon you're all gonna forget how to even use the toilet right."

"Oh! Well we may all be better off dying before then huh? You can smell old Donald's shits from halfway down the Vault." She said, laughing as she exited the room, giving Albert one last smile before shutting the door behind her.

And that was it. The peaceful existence they had all come to know and love crashed down around them all in the coming weeks as the first generation of those born within the Vault spread the word. Their home was no longer safe, and it was from the mouths of those first born there that the news spread.

A week later the gathering was under way and the rec-room was filled to the brim. Some thirty odd people all packed in close, murmuring and fussing all to one another as others shouted above the low roar.

"Why haven't they told us? This is the exact sort of thing that the Overseer is supposed to take care of!"

"Because Jacoren's a coward! He just hides in his office whenever there's a problem and demands that we fix it instead!"

"We should drag his ass out of there and make him talk!"

"Alright alright!" Albert's voice rose above all the rest. Standing in front of the projection screen all eyes turned to him. "Listen I didn't ask you all to come here to start planning an assault on the Overseer. That won't fix the water."

"Yeah but it'll make us feel better!" Shouted Carl from nearby with a wide grin.

"No it won't! We're already gonna have problems with security. The last thing we need is for this to turn violent." Albert argued.

"So what should we do then? We don't exactly have a lot of options. "asked a member of the crowd.

"We leave!" What was once a question, Albert now spoke with conviction. He had made up his mind, they were dead if they stayed there. The only hope any of them had of surviving was out there in the world above.

"We can't just leave! We don't know what's waiting for us out there!"

"Maybe not! But we do know what's waiting for us here, and it's not something any of us want. A slow and painful death from dehydration." He argued back. "We have to make our voices heard, we have to get more people on our side and together we can get the vault doors open. Maybe life has survived up there and entire cities are flourishing? For all we know America has been rebuilt but Vault-tec simply didn't survive? We may never get the all clear signal and I'm not going to sit around hoping for one while we all waste away from thirst." He said in a loud and powerful voice. Soft words weren't going to ignite the fire that they needed if they wanted to survive. The Meek would inherit the earth, but only if there was anyone left to inherit it. Now was not the time for quiet servitude, but angry disobedience. It was there that the group made their decision, they would not wither away quietly in that dark tomb.

Within a few days there were none within the Vault who could claim ignorance of the approaching disaster. Fliers, pamphlets, and more than one rousing speech made by Albert had all made their rounds through the Vaults halls, informing everyone of the oncoming apocalypse. It was no surprise then that at the end of the week an emergency meeting had been called. The auditorium was filled wall to wall that evening. Gatherings like this one took place only on holidays but today was no cause for celebration. The mood was dim and hushed whispers filled the space around the sea of vault dwellers, those too old or too young to have been asked to stand up in the center of the large gathering room. The young, able-bodied members of the vault all stood in a row, before them were chairs, tables, a podium, and all the governing body that ran the Vault as well as a few members of the medical team.

Glancing around, Albert watched curiously as the higher ups all whispered and conversed among themselves, few of them rarely daring to glance over at those that stood at attention. There was one however that kept looking up in Albert's direction though he knew those dark green eyes weren't looking at him. Standing directly to his left was young Sally Delaney. Only just fourteen years old, the young girl had always been on the smaller side and looked out of place sandwiched between the two adult men that flanked her. Hers was another brilliant Delaney mind she was as smart as her older sister, however there was always something that seemed off about the young girl. Frightened of just about everything, her father's death had been hard on her and now most days she was rarely seen far from her mother or sister. Even now she looked like she was moments away from fleeing from the lineup.

The hushed speaking came to an end as feedback from the podium's microphone filled the auditorium. The Overseer Jacoren had finally made his entrance. "Good evening." He said after clearing his throat. "Good evening. It has been some time since we have all gathered here like this, and while I wish I could say that the occasion was a pleasant one, unfortunately that's not the case." Looking out at the row of men and women that stood before him, the Overseers eyes sought out Albert and gave a disapproving gaze. "Despite my best efforts, many of you already know what I am about to say. I've tried to keep it under wraps for as long as possible, but elements outside of my control have forced my hand." He said, turning his gaze away from the now smirking Albert and out to the people that had all spent their lives looking towards him for guidance. "The truth is..." The pause was palpable, the entire population of the Vault hung onto his words. Jacoren normally enjoyed such attention, but the anger he felt towards a particular troublemaker soured the experience. "We have a problem. A big one. The controller chip for our water purification system has given up the ghost." He finally admitted. A sense of panic and terror rose up all around them as the realization of what that meant set in.

"Can't make a new one,and the process is too complicated for a work-around system. Simply put, we're running out of drinking water. No water, no Vault."

They had all heard from Albert and his friends, but now hearing about it from the Overseer himself? The Vault could no longer hide away from the problem, it was staring them in the face. Forcing them to acknowledge the danger they now all faced. "But we have a plan!" He called out, hushing the crowd. "We are after all, Vault Thirteen. There is another not too far from here that may have a replacement. But I'm afraid that in order to retrieve it, someone will have to make the trip, up on the surface." Hushed whispers filled the room at this news.

"Another Vault? How many more are there?"

"So we're not the only ones that survived?"

"Did these dumb asses never wonder why we're Vault Thirteen?"

"Someone will have to go out there, I can't go. I have Asthma!"

"I've got a bad knee, I can't walk too far."

Excuses filled the air and Albert couldn't help but sigh under his breath. They were finally given their chance at seeing the outside and they were all too terrified to volunteer. Albert of course couldn't volunteer himself. Acting as the peacekeeper of the Vault was too important a job. If there was anyone suited for this fetch quest it was Daryl Porter. Top Vault Scout of his day, Daryl was better equipped for the outside than any of the others were. And if he were to befall some tragic fate the Vault would simply send out someone else while Albert comforted Patty. When life gave Albert lemons he'd try his best to make some lemonade.

"I know what I am asking is a lot to take in." Continued Jacoren. "And I couldn't ask any of you to take on this dangerous journey. In the early days of the Vault, a certain method was used to determine who was unlucky enough to have to take up some of the dirtier jobs. I feel like for this task, it might be time to bring back that old ritual." He said, turning and nodding to some of the other officials who had gathered around and were funneling objects into a cup. Bright red straws. "Though unpopular, in the name of fairness and offering ourselves over to fate. The Vaults most able bodied citizens will draw straws to see who should bear this task."

"Oh fuuuck off." Albert groaned. His eyes never leaving the cup that the officials were trying to block from their view. Always the first to notice something, Albert watched as a singular yellow straw was slipped into the cup. No doubt that straw would be the decider.

"I know many of you will disagree with this method, but I have faith that any one of you will be able to succeed and save our home. You will be well provided with food, water, and protection from the outside elements. It will be a hard walk, but still just a simple walk nonetheless." He said with a smile to the room.

"This is bullshit." Albert muttered under his breath. Of all the ways to decide who would go, the dumbass really chose picking straws out of a cup. Unbelievable.

They had all been lined up alphabetically by last name, and starting down at the As the vault dwellers drew their straws.

It'll be alright. Albert thought to himself. Out of everyone there it couldn't be him. He was the one who discovered the problem after all. The universe wouldn't fuck him over like that. Taking a deep breath, it was his turn to draw. With a hand held over the cup of straws, an elder approached Albert and kept the cup down below eye level. "Albert Cole, Reach out your hand." The old man said. "And do not look into the cup."

Wordlessly obeying, Albert's hand stretched out and the cup was raised to his fingers. "Choose one." Said the elder. And so Albert chose. "Keep it to yourself." The man said before moving to Albert's left and repeated the process with Sally, giving Albert time to suck in a breath to steady himself and look down at his fate.

Red. Lovely, never such a beautiful shade of bright red. His heart was nearly ready to leap out of his chest with joy. He couldn't help but let out a low laugh. He was safe. Now all he had to do was stand back and see which poor bastard was chosen.

"Neat. I got my favorite color." Came Sally's soft voice.

"Yeah me too." Albert said with a chuckle. It hadn't been before but damned if red wasn't the greatest color in the world right now.

"Yeah. Drinks always taste better with a yellow straw." She said with a giggle.

With the yellow straws.

The yellow straws.

The yellow ones.

Sally Delaney's favorite color was yellow. His gaze slowly lowered, inch by inch. Her young face wearing a slight smile, her thin frame, spindly arms, soft hands, and the goddamned yellow straw clutched in her fingers.

His heart had been pounding in his chest, now it felt like it had stopped for an eternity. She shouldn't have even been there. If Jacoren had called this meeting the day Albert went to him, she would have been considered too young. But there she was, sandwiched between two grown men as she clutched her death sentence like it was some grand prize. She was going to die. They hadn't received the All Clear signal. The surface was still inhospitable. There was no way she would be able to survive the trip. Albert clutched his hands behind his back, fingers tightening and twisting his own straw. A young girl was going to die a horrific death all alone simply because an old useless bastard couldn't even summon up the balls to choose someone himself. She was going to die, they were all going to die!

Snap.

He hardly knew what he had been doing. But he felt it. A brief moment of crazy. A few seconds of pure fucking insanity. And it was too late to back down now. He sucked in a breath he didn't know he was holding, and stepped forward. "STOP!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "You can all stop now." He said over the commotion of startled and irritated people.

Jacoren was glaring daggers at him "Albert Cole, you get back in line right-"

"It's alright. It's okay." Albert said, ignoring the Overseer. "I uhh. We've been drinking out of these for a long time now and I imagine we'd all know what a short one feels like." He said, holding up half of his red straw, the other half kept clasp in his other hand. "So I guess it's me." He said with a nod, watching the faces of those standing before him.

"Mister Cole, what do you think you're-"

"No no. It's done. It's fitting too really." He said, interrupting the Overseer again. "After all, I was really the first one to notice what was happening. So... I accept. I'll go get the Waterchip."