Fallout 3: The legend of Lone Wanderer Chapter 1, a fallout fanfic

Chapter 1: Life is good.

War, war never changes. The Romans declared war to gain slaves and wealth. Spain built an empire to satiate its lust for gold and territory, and Hitler transformed ramshackle Germany into an economic superpower.

But war never changes.

In the 21st century, the war for resources continued. Only this time the spoils of war were also its weapons: oil and uranium. For these resources, China would invade Alaska, the United States would annex Canada and the European Commonwealth would dissolve into nation-states in disputes and quarrels, bent on controlling the last remaining resources on Earth.

Throughout history, there have been many horrors and crimes, but few equaled the desperate and violent acts that nations committed in the name of claiming all they could for themselves. Some optimistic souls thought that the wars over these resources would be the turning point for humanity, the crucible that would forge a future of peace. After all, how could things get any worse?

They were wrong.

The end of the world happened pretty much as we had predicted: too many humans, and not enough space or resources for everyone. The details are trivial and meaningless, the reasons, as always, were purely human. In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, man's destructive nature could no longer be sustained. In just two hours, the Earth was nearly cleared of life in a great cleansing, an atomic spark launched by human hands that quickly spiraled out of control. Spears of nuclear energy rained from the sky and the world plunged into an abyss of radioactivity and rage. Continents were swallowed by the flames and fell beneath the boiling oceans. Humanity was almost extinguished and their spirits became part of the background radiation that covered the earth.

But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter in human history.

For man had succeeded in destroying the world, but war? War never changes.

In the early days, thousands of people had escaped the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in huge subway shelters known as vaults. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastelands to welcome them. Their inhabitants set out across the ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, and form new tribes.

During these decades we heard stories of people who did unimaginable things: From a dweller of refuge 13 who, in search of a water chip, ended up wiping out an army of super mutants and giving birth to a republic.

His successor, in search of the sacred G.E.C.K., confronted an evil faction that wanted to eradicate the inhabitants of the wilderness just for not being pure, The Enclave. As a result, the chosen one traveled to their base, saved their people, fought their best weapon, and destroyed their main base. The oil rig.

All these stories covered the entire East Coast all the way to the West where things were worse. The only beech story was how the residents of the 76th Refuge expanded after leaving Appalachia to try to rebuild the rest of the States, but they would not have it easy.

Washington D.C. better known as the Capital Wasteland is a war zone for both humans, radiation, and mutants because it was one of the areas marked for bomb impact and for two decades has remained sun-bleached and covered in ash.

life is suffering. Raiders, mutants, and wild animals wipe out those who stray from the safe regions of the few civilizations that have risen from the ashes. Food and clean water are commodities that people fight and die for every day. A race of monstrous men, the supermutants, relentlessly feed on humans, capturing them and taking them to unknown places. There are few capable of fighting this menace.

The Brotherhood of Steel, led by the sympathetic and noble elder Owen Lyons, has fought to protect the people of Capital Yermo for over twenty years. These knights and paladins, clad in servo-armor and wielding technologically advanced weaponry, attack the supermutant threat from their seat of power: the Citadel, located within the ruins of the Pentagon.

But their efforts, though noble, have met with little success. A portion of their own kind, dissatisfied with Elder Lyons' choices, broke away from the Brotherhood and chose to focus on the Brotherhood's original goal for being in the region: the acquisition of advanced pre-war technology. These outcasts, as Lyons loyalists dubbed them, have settled in Fort Independence. They ferociously scour the ruins of DC for technology, ignoring anything (and anyone) as a waste of time.

The supermutants, brutal and of unknown origin and number, have posed a constant threat to all who inhabit Capital Yermo. For years, they have haunted the nightmares of those they hunt and have invaded the ruins of DC. These large, unintelligent hulks and their mutated abominations have waged endless wars for control of Yermo Capital. They have not succeeded. Yet.

Life is suffering, except for the inhabitants of Shelter 101. hidden in the center of Yermo Capital. For on that fateful day, when fire rained down from the sky, the giant steel door of Shelter 101 closed and never reopened.

Along its steel corridors, the propaganda of its all-controlling Overseer can be seen and heard. "This is where you are born. It is here you will die."

Because no one ever enters Refuge 101... and no one ever leaves.

Albert Johnson was born in the year 2258, on February 16. to James and Catherine Johnson, two talented scientists, physicians, and very loving people. Although both were well trained in medical matters, unforeseen complications arose from Albert's birth and, tragically, shortly thereafter, Catherine died of cardiac arrest. James was doomed to raise his only child alone. Loving only his late wife, he never remarried or sought another partner.

James raised Albert in the comfort of Shelter 101, where he was born. To his father, Albert was but the greatest gift a man could ask for. James loved his son and was proud of even the smallest of his accomplishments. Walking at one year old, opening the gate to his playground, and even flipping through books, obviously not reading or understanding what a book was, but simply copying his father's behavior. James loved the boy more than anything and strove to give him a good life, despite the adversities he faced living life underground.

James taught his beloved son everything he could. As he grew up, Albert learned medicine, mathematics, chemistry, and a wide variety of subjects from his father, more than he learned in school, which gave him some advantage over his peers. As the most prominent figure in Albert's life, James' traits were reflected in his son: honesty, dignity, integrity, and a bit of dry, sarcastic wit.

As a child, James always made a point of reading to his son from any of the books he had available. Sometimes they were children's works of fantasy, comic books, or historical nonfiction. In particular, he loved to read Catherine's favorite Bible passage, Revelation 21:6, a quote he had framed in his office.

"I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To him who thirsts, I will give freely from the fountain of the water of life."

James was the shelter's chief physician. The supervisor of Shelter 101, the stern Alfonso Almodovar, appointed him to this position. As a scientist and physician, James quickly became an important figure in the shelter. However, he did not always agree with the Supervisor. James was often free-thinking and idealistic, while his counterpart Alphonse was narrow-minded and strict. Their differing ideals often caused them to erupt in fierce debates, but these encounters never turned violent. Both thought very little of each other.

The people in the vault knew James and trusted him. They considered him a protector of life, as is, in a sense, every doctor. Each family trusted him with the health of themselves and their children, but the Overseer sometimes found it an uphill battle to maintain his absolute faith. His strict nature often precluded his opinions, and several of the policies instituted under his reign were met with open protest. The vault's security force, absolutely loyal to him, kept people in line, although physical force was very rarely required.

While the two adults often did not get along on the best of terms, their children seemed destined to live the opposite of their parents' reluctant rivalry. Alphonse had only one daughter, Amata, a cheerful and happy child. Amata's mother died of an illness two years after her birth. Because there were not many children their age at the shelter, the two became good friends as they matured. Albert and Amata shared a similar experience: growing up without a mother, and this became a staple of their growing friendship.

Amata was rebellious to her father's strict nature. She would laugh, play, and jump up and down the steel corridors even when her father yelled at her to stop. Making her father scowl in frustration was all too easy for young Amata. She was a free spirit in her youth, untamed and pure. As she matured, this manifested itself in a curious and affectionate nature displayed by her openness.

Albert was a little different. Quiet most of the time, but very well-spoken and polite when he felt like talking. His father was a nobleman, and this trait was very clearly reflected in the boy, as he was always doing what he thought was the best thing he could do. At times, this pseudo-heroic tendency got him into trouble and taught him hard lessons about ego and bravado. He was not selfish or conceited, but rather honest and kind.

Albert took after his father in more ways than one. As he approached sixteen, he already resembled his father of his age in several ways. Tall, with bright black eyes and light brown hair, he was turning out to be a spitting image of his father when he was younger. His father sported a prominent, short, well-groomed beard, and Albert knew he would soon be growing facial hair as well. albert was also becoming very smart like his father. Good with computers, medicine, and repairing equipment, he was becoming a chip off the old block. James was proud of his son and spent as much time with him as he could, as much as his job would allow. Being the head physician meant he was often swamped with patients.

When Albert was ten years old, his birthday party came and went, like all others, with a few small gifts and fond memories. His favorite gift, however, was a hidden firing range that his father had built with the help of his assistant, Jonas Palmer. Tucked away in a corner of the reactor level, it sported three crude targets on the ends of metal poles. That day, James gave the boy an airgun he had repaired, and Albert couldn't have been more excited to try it out. Since that day he had become quite the marksman, a feat of which he was very proud, though he boasted to no one. If the Supervisor ever knew of such a range, he would have it melted down for scrap.

Albert was born before Amata by only a few months. At the Refuge, all the children shared school classes and were encouraged to get to know each other. Their education consisted of a variety of subjects covering biology, pre-war history, physics, anatomy, mathematics, literature, and other studies. While their development was carefully supervised and at times guided by adults, namely their elementary school teacher Edwin Brotch, they were allowed to pursue subjects that interested them personally.

And so, when the day came that his son was to take the GOAT, the test that would determine where his son's future job would be in the vault, James was adamant about getting his son to succeed and get a good career to secure the rest. of his life at the Refuge.

Albert, on the other hand, was not enthusiastic about GOAT. As his father checked on him in his medical office, they talked. He put his instruments aside and looked at the boy sitting on the patient bench.

"As far as I can tell, you're a perfectly healthy sixteen-year-old boy. So yes, you need to go to class and take your GOAT exam," James told him, setting aside another medical instrument. He pointed toward the door. "Go on now; you need to take a test."

Albert sighed, "If you say so, Dad."

James' voice became slightly stern. "Hey, it's not my call. Those are the rules. You're sixteen now, so you have to take the GOAT this year" He saw his son roll his eyes and James sighed. "Come on, it's not that bad. Everyone has to move on. You'll do fine."

Albert looked back at his father. "Anything I need to know about the test, Dad?" he asked.

James folded his arms. "The Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test is something everyone here at the Refuge takes when they're sixteen," he said, emphasizing 'everyone'. "It helps figure out what kind of job you'll have here at Shelter 101 when you're a little older. So pay attention and try not to fall asleep this time."

Albert nodded at the promise. He occasionally had trouble staying awake in class. Usually, it was because they were learning or reviewing things he already knew, not that that excuse earned him any favors from his teacher or fellow students.

"You know what they say, son: 'We are born in the shelter, we die in the shelter. Everyone is tested in their abilities, so they can work for the betterment of all shelter residents.' Sound familiar?"

"Vaguely," Albert answered sarcastically. It was just one of the only things the Overseer sang over the intercom. He paused for a moment and then spoke quietly, "Dad, do we have to die in the shelter? Can't we ever leave?"

James frowned. "That's not how it works, and it won't do you any good to go around asking questions like that, especially not around the Overseer or any of his men. He's breathing down my neck enough as it is. He won't let me medically examine his daughter without being present, eliminating any doctor-patient confidentiality. Frustrating, that's all."

Albert nodded once more and averted his gaze. James had a sympathetic look in his eyes, opened his arms, and put a hand on Albert's shoulder.

"I want to tell you something now. It's important, so listen carefully..." Albert looked up and met his father's gaze. "This place, this ... vault. It's not perfect, I know. But it's your home. You're safe here. Stay inside and you always will be, you understand? You need to appreciate everything you have here." ".

Albert could only look at his father.

"Because what's up there...outside...that's not the life I want for you. And it's not what your mother wanted for you either."

Albert asked, "Do you know what it's like up there?"

For a moment, James had a faraway look in his eyes. He looked past Albert to see if his door was closed before he spoke. He folded his arms. "No... Not really. But it can't be any better than what's down here."

"There's no hope of leaving?"

"That's what the Overseer says, isn't it? He's not going to let anyone in or out, so I guess that's the way it's going to have to be. You're here now, and it's a lot better than being awake. All your mother and I ever wanted was for you to be safe, and you're safe here.

Albert wanted to ask how sure his father was about how dangerous it was on the surface. He looked to the left and saw a specific framed quote on the wall. He heard his father's voice in his head, reading it aloud as he had heard it hundreds of times in his youth.

" I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To him who thirsts, I will give freely from the fountain of the water of life."

"Hey Dad... can we talk about, you know... mom?"

That seemed to surprise James. "Your mom?" Albert nodded. "She...she was beautiful. But beyond the beauty you've seen...there's a lot those old photographs can show." Albert listened as his father was silent for a moment. "She was passionate... about life, about love. But most of all...most of all she was passionate about you. When she became pregnant, it was the happiest I had ever seen her. Ah... she had Great things in mind for you."

Albert smiled and nodded, wishing he had known her. Her absence had always been a defining feature of his life, akin to a void he couldn't define but knew was there. He had long since resigned himself to knowing he could never occupy it.

James waited a moment longer before clearing his throat. "So it's time to stop rambling and take the test. Please, son, please take these performance tests seriously. The last thing I need is for your mother's ghost to start haunting me because her only son turned into a garbage burner or something. "

Albert winced slightly but nodded. "Bye, Dad."

"Good luck, son."

Albert stood up, stretched out a little, and took a moment to check out his Pip-Boy 3000, the doll computer that had been presented to him on his tenth birthday. The Pip-Boys, a standard problem in covers, were a product of RobCo Industries. It could interact with all compatible technology, including computers and robots while reading the health and life signs of its users. It was accompanied by a number of useful features, including a radio and a GPS.

In his calendar of the day, Albert noted the entrance of the GOAT and waved for the last time. "It is time to face the test and end this at once, Albert," he thought to himself. "It can't be so bad."

Upon leaving the clinic, he noticed that James' assistant, Jonas, was helping Stanley Armstrong, a senior technician on the boat, sick. Albert knew Stanley well; it was he who had actually fixed the Pip-Boy that now resided in Albert's left forearm. "I hope you'll get better soon, Stan!" Albert yelled as he went. Stanley cried and cried.

When Albert approached the classroom, he noticed Amata. Sixteen years like him and with a good look, beautiful features, and clean and dark hair that he carried collected behind his head. Her face always managed to make her smile, as she had been a very positive person in her life. Unfortunately, Lloyd wasn't the only one who thought he looked good.

Butch DeLoria and his friends, Wally Mack and Paul Hannon Jr., all wearing their exclusive leather jackets with the logo of their "gang", the Serpents of the Tunnel, stamped on their backs. They wore their jackets on their bow monkeys. He made them stand out among the civilians within Refuge 101. They had surrounded Amata, despite his protests, and were making lascive comments. One of which, as Lloyd could hear as he approached, "I could show you a real Tunnel Snake, Amata," a jewel of the perverted mind of Butch, the leader of the Tunnel Serpents.

Albert felt his anger increasing, but he remained calm. He approached. "Hey, Butch," she cried from a few meters away to draw her attention.

Butch turned his head, his smooth, oily hair shining under the fluorescent light. He was backed against a wall with his arms crossed. "Yes? What the hell do you want, coward?"

Making brief visual contact with Wally, Paul, and, most importantly, Amata, he looked back at Butch. "What's going on here?" 'Albert asked.

"It's not your business, boy. Get out of here before they hurt you." Butch took a look at these two lackeys. They were crushing their nodules in advance. Albert didn't step back; he knew how to handle this situation. In the depths of his mind, a plan was formed. "If you get into the Serpents of the Tunnel, you're looking for trouble, and it's not the kind of trouble you want. Understood?" Butch said, still laying down and acting randomly, showing his usual hard-type bravery.

Albert approached and spoke in silence to emphasize his point and make Butch listen. "If you don't leave Amata alone, right now, the Supervisor will attack your gang. We will take care of this personally." He looked at Amata, who looked back at him with his eyes very open. He was afraid that Butch might attack him for threatening him in such a blatant and open manner.

But Albert knew better. He knew that Butch was a coward of heart, who trusted in physical threats and avoided any administrative action. His family had a history of problems with the supervisor's office. Butch's eyes trembled slightly as he kept looking at Albert.

After a moment, he said gently, "Maybe you're right." He stopped. "Come on, Serpents of the Tunnel, this little bitch doesn't deserve our time," he whispered indignantly. They unwillingly accepted and followed him to the classroom. After a moment, only Albert and Amata were in the hallway. He released a swift sigh of relief, both for being out of the situation and for the fact that it was resolved without violence. "Thank God it's over," he murmured.

Albert turned toward her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. They didn't put their hand on me," Amata told him. Albert nodded and smiled. "Listen... Thank you for getting rid of those idiots."Albert stood up, stretched out a little, and took a moment to check out his Pip-Boy 3000, the doll computer that had been presented to him on his tenth birthday. The Pip-Boys, a standard problem in covers, were a product of RobCo Industries. It could interact with all compatible technology, including computers and robots while reading the health and life signs of its users. It was accompanied by a number of useful features, including a radio and a GPS.

In his calendar of the day, Albert noted the entrance of the GOAT and waved for the last time. "It's time to confront

Albert felt his anger increasing, but he remained calm. He approached. "Hey, Butch," she cried from a few meters away to draw her attention.

Butch turned his head, his smooth, oily hair shining under the fluorescent light. He was backed against a wall with his arms crossed. "Yes? What the hell do you want, coward?"

Making brief visual contact with Wally, Paul, and, most importantly, Amata, he looked back at Butch. "What's going on here?" 'Albert asked.

Albert turned toward her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. They didn't put their hand on me," Amata told him. Albert nodded and smiled. "Listen... Thank you for getting rid of those idiots."

"No problem. I know how to get out of a bad situation by talking." Albert said, with a touch of arrogance in his tone. Amata arched an eyelash.

"Is that fanfarronerie what I hear?" he asked, with a smile adorning his face.

"Not at all, simply... the harmless self-recognition of improvised talent," he replied.

Amata laughed between her teeth and shook her head. "Thank you again. I don't know why you're not leaving me alone. I think they just do it because they are frustrated with the administrative arm of the bow, as if bothering me was a way to spit on my father without having to do it." to do something more dangerous. Idiots. I hope Butch ends up being a garbage burner."

Albert cried in silence. He pointed his head toward the classroom and they went in side by side. Mr. Brotch, his teacher, was telling people to sit down. Albert took a seat in front of the class, on the right side. Brotch explained some of the rules of the test as he distributed the papers in each row. He administered the examination by formulating each question accompanied by a slide presentation that demonstrated each of his hypothetical scenarios.

When Albert started the exam, he noticed some inconsistencies in the exam. The questions were strange, all of them multiple choice, and none of the answers seemed to fit in with what Albert would actually do in the situation they presented. In the third question, Albert had given up the idea that this test really should be taken seriously. He placed random marks on all the questions except for the last one, which referred to who was "undoubtedly the most important person in Refuge 101: the one who protects us from the hardness of the atomic barrier and to whom we owe everything we have, including our lives?" to which each answer was "the Supervisor".

Albert refused to dignify that ridiculous propaganda with a response.

One by one, the students delivered their papers, after which Mr. Brotch told them what they had received as a career. Amata, as expected, was placed in the supervisory category within the administration of Refuge 101, a position below her father. Albert was curious to see what Butch would receive; hairdresser, as it turned out to be. Butch grabbed the paper from Edwin's desk and sliced it, challengingly claiming that he was a "barber" and not a hairdresser, before leaving the room furiously.

When it was all over and the other students passed their exams, Albert stood behind. When Amata left the room, she looked at him again, still sitting at his desk. He worried briefly, but he did not delay. Only another student stayed a long time, Freddie Gomez, who was too nervous about his results. Finally, after convincing himself for the fifth time that he had made the right decisions, he passed his examination and felt relieved by the results.

When I touch him to go to Mr. Brotch's desk and pass his examination, I look at him with no emotion until I see the last question he left empty. He noticed a serious Albert knowing that he did not find him meaningful to the exam "If it makes you feel better, I did not want to end up as a young Professor Johnson".

"I imagine, I don't normally fight for the results, but I feel that this terrible GOAT is only to determine who is more useful to be the supervisor or to be his right hand. But I promised my father not to fail in this examination."

"Always saying what you think, don't you?" I'm asking Brotch.

"I would call it a blessing," he said indifferently.

"With the results, you would have ended up as a lead, but we can do this. Just tell me what you're good at and I'll fill in the form."

"Really?" He said surprised.

"Yes."

More silence.

"Really seriously?"

"Before I change my mind, Albert," said Brotch, slightly agitated.

"It's okay. I want something I can work on with my father, or in the same field. I'm very good with medicine and surgery, and I like to talk to patients. I'm very good to people; I read their emotions, their feelings." Empathy is the word. I'd like something that also incorporates computers, and maybe repair equipment, light or heavy, too." Albert almost mentioned how good he was with a rifle, but he omitted it. He smiled to his insides while considering his shooting field, which he had been attending for the last six years.

Mr. Brotch thought for a moment, before rolling some papers on his desk and ordering them. "I'll see what I can do, Albert. You'll get a career that'll fit your needs, I know. But maybe you can limit your resume a little bit. A doctor, a surgeon, a therapist, a scientist, an informatician. "The mechanic and the electrical engineer together just don't have a name that I know."

Albert sketched a smile, lay down on his chair, and crossed his arms. "Yes, he is, and yes, you know."

Mr. Brotch lifted up his head and looked at the teenager with curiosity.

"Light me up, Mr. Johnson."

"You just said it."

"Put the thread on me," said his father as he was heading for surgery.

Albert gave what his father asked him to be attentive to what he was asking while he was operating the elderly Palmer. He had finally finished as a nurse three years ago, unfortunately, Mr. Brotch decided to adjust to what he wanted.

"This is it, now we have to disinfect the tools" Albert took the stuff and went to the grocery store to disinfect it. "Good work son."

"That's why I'm daddy," Albert said as he continued to clean the surgical tools.

"Well, that was the last of the day, come to rest son, you earned it."

"Thank you, Dad, I'll see you at home."

"Be careful, son," said James as he went to the bathroom to clean himself while he saw his son go away, not without first leaving his medical clothes in a drawer.

James was glad that he would follow in his footsteps, hoping that in the future he would be someone in life. But he also remembered his failures and felt that he had achieved nothing. Until a guard enters the clinic.

"Dr. James, the supervisor requires it."

"Well, tell him I'm going right away."

He was going to start his fights again.

"These experiments are a waste of time!" Alphonse, the supervisor, exclaimed.

James, standing in front of the Supervisor and on the other side of a table containing numerous Petri plates and test tubes, stared at him and replied, "Don't be a fool! We experimented to prepare. We're preparing to survive."

"Take care of your tongue around me, James," Alphonse warned. Behind him were Chief of Security Paul Hannon Sr. and Officer Herman Gómez. Jonah was behind James. "We already have a water purifier and backup. We don't need to spend resources on worthless experiments as long as they remain."

James refused with his head. "What if they fail? If the water chip breaks or is intentionally damaged? These experiments are important. Removing the rads from the water and the patients is important for the health of the boulevard as a whole."

"In any case, I will not approve your request to use one of our main water tanks as a test bench for your experiments. If something goes wrong, I'll be responsible and the people on the booth would be at risk."

James let a sigh of frustration escape. "We've reviewed this hundreds of times. There are multiple main water concentration tanks in the vault. Each of them has a number of backup contingencies, including additional water tanks. We want to use one of the inactive backup tanks that "is not even in proper circulation right now."

"And what if your experiment goes wrong and pollutes more water supply than it needs?" The Supervisor replied. "I will not voluntarily approve anything that could cause a water crisis!"

James hit the table with his hands, altering the liquids on the plates. "We'll seal him out of the system! ¡Get rid of it in advance! ¡Conduct contingency checks and make sure that the appropriate security protocols exist! Damn it, Alphonse, I'm not stupid. There is a procedure for these things!"

"He will refer to me by my proper title, Dr. Johnson," Alphonse almost whispered. "And the answer remains the same. His proposal has been considered and rejected."

"This could help people! Help the people on the vault!" James almost yelled.

"People are fine as they are," the supervisor said. "There is no predictable problem with the main water unit at the moment. And it will continue like this. Understood?"

James took a moment to straighten up and stabilize his breath. "Let it be so, Alphonse."

Security chief Hannon put his hand on his stick. "I'd better stop insulting the supervisor, Dr. Johnson!"

Alphonse raised his hand. "Stop. You can't teach an old, stubborn dog new tricks." He looked at James again. "But you can jail him if he's still behaving badly."

Understanding what he meant, James turned and went back to his office. Jonah followed him quickly. The supervisor refused with his head and turned to leave, followed by officers Hannon and Gómez. Inside his office, James sat down and breathed deeply. "Cursed Supervisor. If only such a closed mind't be in charge of the vault. These experiments are important."

"I know, doctor. I know," said Jonas. "We will have to continue to try to perfect the results with smaller samples."

"I've been doing this for a long time," said James. "We need greater water supplies to test large-scale reactions. But we will not have access to that technology while the Supervisor is monitoring each of our movements."

Jonah shrunk his shoulders. "Well, there's nothing else we can do, right?"

James looked at him, sinking into his thoughts. Jonas wasn't sure to get out of his silence, but James stretched out his neck to look outside his office and make sure there was nobody else around. He leaned forward. "Not in Refuge 101, here we can't."

Albert had finished reading one of the books in the library and was ready to leave after leaving the book I read that was a copy of Gulliver's journeys. As he advanced he saw that Amata didn't come to one of the study sessions they usually had after their work, so I tried to go to the supervisor's office.

"Sorry," said an officer.

"Residents cannot be in administration," said one official firmly.

"But-"

"I said you can't, long" Albert refused to fight and decided to follow the order to leave. The supervisor's administration was like that of a dictator, and he did not like it, but there was a little consolation. Call it a peaceful protest, but one of the residents; the younger ones had formed a club disguised as movies, which was actually to share ideas and things from the surface. When I enter the door, I only knock three times and whisper. "A new dawn."

The door would open to reveal Alexis smith, one of the guards of the shelter who unlike the rest was more friendly and more open to the rest. He wore the classic security uniform that only his brown eyes and white skin were visible. "I'm glad to see you, Albert."

"The pleasure is mine."

"Come in, come in. It's making the film interesting." Albert would go inside to see the youngest of the shelter along with some familiar faces; including his bully and group of friends.

"Why did you take so long, bloodshed?" I ask Butch reloaded against the wall.

The reason for the nickname was that when they were children Butch hit him in the nose, which caused him to bleed from there.

"An operation on old Palmer. Nothing serious."

"Well that's good," said a young girl with brown hair and brown skin and glasses. It was Jessica Bermudez, The leader of the "Change" two years ago had created this club with the pretext of watching movies, just to share ideas of the surface and how to make a good society, in the eyes of the supervisor was unheard of, so they had Alexis to give them the alert. "Now that we're all here, we can start. "A better future."

"For humanity" We said in unison the group was six teenagers and six acquaintances: Butch, Paul, Wally, me, Susie and Christine.

"Well, I'll start. Last night, I heard from one of the guards that the radiation was upstairs," pointing to the roof. "It has decreased enough to be exposed without any problems."

"That's amazing!" Said Jeremy, the one with blonde hair and positive attitude. "At this step, we can go to the surface. I can't wait to see a tree"

"I would like to see a river," said Elizabeth who was delighted and abeced seeing one of the residents.

"I just want to explore and give medical services," Albert said.

"Good thought, Albert," said Jessica. "Many of us have a fixed goal: gangs, explore, feel. But let us not forget that the mission is the reconstruction of the surface. For when it's time. We have to form a place that we call home."

"Yes, it's true and have better allocations" Susie said she didn't agree with what I played at the GOAT.

"Exactly. Now let's review the basic survival guide."

This club was one of the few places where you can feel safe.

Amata stood up quite nervous, changing her weight from one foot to another. From the other side of her large desk, her father looked at her fixedly, apparently removing invisible layers with his eyes to look at her very essence, looking for something in her. Este escrutinio la hacía sentir incómoda; su padre normalmente no era tan… intenso.

"Amata," she finally spoke for the first time since she called her to her office, "I have been receiving some worrying reports. Now, you and I have set up your two hours of free time daily, so you can light yourself up with any activity you like... However, I wonder if,, your choice of how to spend this time should be questioned."

"I don't think I should do that. I have done nothing wrong," he replied.

Alphonse twisted his hands. "Amata, you have to realise that, as someone in the supervisory field, there are a number of duties and responsibilities that one in a position like yours must recognize, defend and respect. One of them is to generate confidence in the People of the Oven, trust in you. I think that your free time might,, be more suitable for planning events or organising youth groups. They would be surprised how much these acts are reflected in the hearts of the civilians of the boulevard."

Amata looked elsewhere. "Maybe at some point in the future. I'm focusing on studying other subjects right now."

Once again, Alphonse remained silent before speaking in a slightly accusing tone: "With Albert Johnson?"

Amata considered his answer. "What about her?" he said, a little challenging. Alphonse se dio cuenta.

"Amata, as your father, but more importantly as your supervisor, I want you to limit your time with Albert. You're at an age when it's important for you to build a bright future. Albert is... a distraction. That, frankly, is below someone of his caliber."

"I think he's smarter than I am," Amata replied. "I feel lucky that he helps me be a tutor."

Alphonse's nodules were beginning to whiten by the tightness of his hands. Exasperated, he looked again at her. "Look at me, Amata."

She did so, somewhat discouraged by the seriousness with which she now considered her.

"Listen to me very carefully, Amata. Albert is the product of his father's teachings, not Mr. Brotch's. It's hard to keep James in his place. The vault is a machine, Amata. Everyone does their part. We can't have The parts of this machine think they can work differently or choose where they want to work. They just have to work and, as Supervisor, it's my job to make sure the machine works. It's the toughest job here on the vault. And I personally am not satisfied with how far I have to go to secure control of the machine, not only for the moment we live in, but also for the future. Someday, Amata, then I'll go. I'm the supervisor and I won't allow someone like James Freeman to influence this booth by making his son have influence over you."

Amata stopped her father's speech and stumbled on the floor with his foot, shaking his head. "We are people! No parts of a machine, Dad! I can't... I just can't believe that's how you see the vault! You're locked in here in your office every day, managing orders for your security. drones to carry out. James Johnson is a wonderful man, and the people on the hood like him. That's why you hate him, Dad. Because you can't stand the idea that somebody else in the vault can dominate people. That's the only reason! And I hate the fact that you hate Albert just because he's James' son!

Alphonse got up from a leap. "Now look! I am your father, and you shall not speak to me as such! ¡You don't know how far I've come to keep this vault safe! One day, you'll appreciate everything I've done. For this boat and for you!

Amata was visibly upset now, as she had rarely fought with her father. "I'm not part of a machine! You can't expect him to adapt me to your preparation and to throw me directly into your work when you can no longer do it! I want to be more." More than your replacement, Dad, I want to help people, something you've forgotten how to do!"

Alphonse roared, "Don't you dare to say that I've forgotten how to help people! I've made more difficult decisions than you can imagine so that the people of this boulevard can sleep peacefully! That they will have food and clean water!" And order in their lives! If they are not happy because I have given them everything they need, then the problem is theirs! And you, young girl, are confined in your room until you learn the lesson and appreciate what you do! I do it for you!"

Amata's mind revolved with hundreds of different answers, but eventually decided that it didn't make sense. Pissing with anger, she resigned trying to make her father come to reason and went out of the room furiously, heading to her own rooms. Alphonse straightened when she left, passing a hand over her hair. A punch of guilt invaded him, but he swallowed it. In his eyes, it was only a matter of time before this kind of exchange came to light. He convinced himself that everything was part of the process.

Alphonse shook his head and tried to focus his thoughts on his next target. He knew that if he didn't take any kind of action soon, James could ruin more than he thought. I was not willing to allow that to happen.

'I should never have let him in.'

Amata waited two hours after they closed the door to get out of bed. Although his room was soundproofed, he took measures to remain silent while putting the monkey on. Going to his night table, he took two very important tools; a fork and a shovel. Going toward the door of his bedroom, he devoted himself skillfully to his task of opening it.

Placing the eye of the lock in the large sliding mechanism, he inserted both tools into it. Having practiced this more than once in the past, I was well aware of the tricks involved in opening locks. Turning them both until he found the right angle, he applied pressure until he heard a too familiar "click" and the door opened.

Staying lying down and moving fast, she sailed through the corridors of the vault. By checking every corridor to make sure there were no security patrols or people turning around even at this late hour, he managed to secretly reach his destination. Pausing to make sure that no one was within ear reach, he opened the door, shrinking by the sound he made when his two halves opened.

She quickly entered and closed the door behind her. A sudden and penetrating light in the darkness struck her: the luminous function of a Pip-Boy.

"A little late, isn't it?" Albert said as he got out of bed and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," he replied timidly. "I can always go if you want. But you must know that it cost me a bit to get here."

"Of course, stay for a while." Albert turned and lifted his feet from the bed with a kick. Dressed only in a white shirt and stockings, he walked barefoot on the cold metal floor. Amata got up and approached. "I was worried when you didn't show up tonight. I went through the administration to find you, but they didn't let me through."

"My father is trying to tighten up control," he explained. "Things are gonna get tough for us."

"Does he know about us? Well, our... well, right?" he asked, not knowing how to formulate his question delicately.

"No, not really. Suspicious. Be afraid, rather."

"Are you afraid we're together?" He asked Albert as he sat back in bed. She gave him a handcuff on the side by her side, an invitation to sit down which she accepted.

"He's afraid of the effect that your father's ideals would have on me, through you."

"That's... strange," he said, trying to find logic in his father's thinking.

"You're telling me. He's gonna try to keep me locked up for a while. I imagine if I follow his game, it'll be easier with me. As much as I hate to admit it, the more I fight him, the worse he will become. He's a fanatic of control that I can't stand," she said, shaking her head. His dark fleece fell in front of his face, which Albert quickly placed behind his ear with his hand. He guides his face towards hiss by gently taking his beard.

"Aguanta, Amata. Are we going to let him stop us?"

"He will only be able to brake us," he said, distractedly passing a finger over his leg. "I won't be able to see you long for, well, I don't know how long."

"Then it will be better for us to take advantage of our time," said Albert before approaching, gently encouraging her to sit on the bed, "after all, you must come back in the morning." She began to kiss her with enthusiasm, to which she responded with equal passion, satisfied by the entusiasm. Wrapping her arms around her back, she clawed her fingers into her hair as she approached her body.

Albert slipped his hand to the creamer of his monkey's forehead and was about to lower it, before she stopped kissing him and cut off his hand with a blow. "Not so fast there, cowboy," he said. "The suit remains on."

Albert, a little too modest to make a sudden replica, just cried and continued to kiss her.

Good things can't last forever.

Albert turned on his bed and drowned his face in the pillow. Somewhere, deep in the layers of his subconscious, something urged him to wake up; something was shaken by a distant noise. But Albert was enjoying a very comfortable rest and an even more pleasant sleep when he was suddenly awakened with an almost violent shock. Blinking, his eyes slowly accustomed to the ultraviolet light of his room to contemplate Amata standing beside him.

"Wake up! Let's go, wake up!" She was saying. In his state of confusion, he did not notice the expression of concern on his face, nor the alarms sounding from the background, in fact. "Come on, you have to wake up!"

He smiled gently. "Hey... how strange, I was just dreaming of you..."

She kicked him. Hard. Now I was definitely awake. He saw his strange facial expression and finally heard the alarms.

"Now is not the time to be a bitch! This is serious!" she said, increasingly angry. "My father's men are looking for you! They've already killed Jonas, and you have to get out of here!"

"What?" Albert jadeed. "Jonas is... dead? What the hell is going on?" he cried, jumping out of bed. He only wore a white shirt and a pair of socks.

"It's your dad, he came out of the vault!"

Those words struck him like a bullet and stopped him as a wall. "What do you mean? What's going on?" Albert asked freneticly, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"My father thinks Jonas helped your father escape, so he made his men..." he paused and his face trembled. "My God, Albert, they killed him... they just hit him and beat him and they didn't stop..." It seemed as if reality just hit her. He was becoming weaker and weaker, and his eyes were filled with tears.

"Oh my God... are you okay?" Albert asked, approaching. Amata raised her hand and shrugged a little.

"Yes, don't worry about me. Just... I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I know Jonas was your friend."

Albert nodded and turned his gaze away. Thousands of thoughts passed through his head. 'Jonas... dead... and Dad left the vault... why? Why?' He tried desperately to swallow his breasts in search of any clue, any indication, anything that could lead him to an answer. He had nothing, absolutely nothing at all that could help him understand. There is no indication; was this a planned secret? Hidden from him? But why?

Amata spoke. "But we have to go now! My father's men will come at any moment!"

Albert shook his head, apparently without hearing it. "No, no, my father can't have gone. The door is closed!"

"Apparently not anymore," he said. "But... are you really telling me that you really didn't know your father was gone? Didn't he tell you?"

Albert shaken his head severely. "No." He paused for a moment, thinking deeply. "I had no idea I was planning to leave."

"Oh... I'm sorry, I had no idea... I'm sure he had his reasons... was it supposed that Jonas should explain everything to you?"

"I have no idea, Amata," he said, his face showing clear sincerity.

Amata shook her head and became determined. "But it doesn't matter anymore, he's dead. I can help you escape, I have my own plan!"

"You mean escaping the vault? How?" He asked.

"Listen, there's a secret tunnel that goes straight from my father's office to the exit. You'll have to hack his computer to open it." He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small handful of forks. "Use them to go through your door. That's how I always go in."

Albert stood up and took the wheels. "It sounds like a good plan. Let's get out of here."

"Ah, and also... I stole my father's gun." Amata reached behind her and pulled out a 10 mm gun behind her back. "I really hope you don't have to use this... but by the way... you know?"

"Yes... yes, I know." He approached and took the gun out of his hands. It felt light and easy to use. It was the first truly lethal weapon he ever had; the first weapon manufactured with the express purpose of killing. He never considered his old compressed-air gun dangerous. It gave him a strange sense of power, one that he didn't know if he liked. Was it power? Or protection? Or both?

"Thanks Amata. I promise I'll only use it if necessary. One last resort. I promise."

She assented understanding. "It's okay. I'll try to meet you at the exit. Be careful with safety and... good luck." She leaned and put a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'm sorry for the whistle," he said as he turned to leave. Lloyd turned to see her leave. As he left the room, he took a break and spoke. "If you can open the exit, do it. Don't wait for me if I don't show up. Ah, and... try to dress up." And with a quick, forced smile, he left.

Albert didn't take long. The monkey stood up and grabbed the only other weapon he had in mind: a baseball bat that had recently been presented to him for his birthday. He spent a short time looking for what else he could use. He didn't think he'd come back here. He took the baseball that accompanied the beat and slipped it into his pocket. He walked to a corner of his room, which had a medical pharmacy. Inside were some minor supplies, some stimulants and some Med-X injections, along with some surgical equipment. She took the first aid kit with all the items it contained and wrapped it on the belt.

Besides, he would take his BB gun by the blinds and go out. I was about to turn around, but I noticed Officer Kendall shouting to him to stop, but he would see mutaraches attacking him. Albert went to help him using his bat to kill them.

"Is this officially Kendall?" I ask Albert as soon as I ask, he had to take a step backwards to prevent the officer from hitting him in the face.

"Wow, Officer Kendall, relax!" Albert protested, raising a hand in defense.

"You think you're better than the rest of us, don't you, little son of a bitch?" he cried as he swung again. Albert blocked him with the beat. "Do you think that just because you and your father are so fucking smart and we all need you, you can just get up and go whenever you want? "Eh?" he cried, twice swinging as he rebuked.

"What? Never! I have no idea-"

"Shut up, little bastard!" Kendall gave another blow.

Albert saw an opening and struck with his beat. It connected firmly to the side of Kendall's head. He yelled loudly and took a step back, attaching himself to the side of his head where he had struck the striking object. Lloyd retreated a little, putting some distance between him and the officer.

"Now please listen to me!" Albert said, raising his hands. "I'm sorry! I don't want to fight!"

Kendall looked at him and tightened his teeth. "I'll kill you!" He loaded against Albert, raising the rod high.

Albert reacted quickly and turned twice, each of them firmly connecting to the sides of the officer's head. He made no noise as he fell to the ground, very unconscious and bleeding, enough to form a swamp where his head lay.

Albert could only look with his very open eyes at what he had done. He tried to form words at that moment, to ask the man he had hurt if he was well, but he couldn't. He knew enough about the injuries to know that the man was unconscious.

Maybe dying.

When his senses returned to him and he found himself able to breathe again. He heard the alarms. His father had gone. For some reason, the frogs were pounding and the guards were looking for his blood. He had just attacked a man with a baseball beat, he had seriously wounded him and was mortified by all this.

But he had to go. With a last glance at the unconscious man, he ran through the hallways of the boulevard. The alarms sounded and sounded in his ears, but as he bent a corner, he heard a cry for help from a familiar voice. Butch suddenly came out of a room near Albert and noticed it. "Hey!" he cried. "You have to help me! My mom is trapped there with cockroaches!"

Albert took a break. The situation seemed ironic to him, but he was not willing to be an idiot about it. Butch seemed sincerely desperate. He grabbed his beat stronger and said, "Let's go, show me where it is."

"No, I... I can't go back there. It's dark, and... and there are cockroaches, and, you know, " said Butch, rubbing his neck and squeezing slightly.

Albert was going to refute it, but I remember his BB gun. "Use my BB gun, you won't be afraid anymore."

Butch took her surprised. "Whoa! Where did you get this? Very well. Let's go save my mother."

Albert followed him to Butch's mother's room who was being attacked by the mutaraches while she was on the bed. Butch using the gun shot at them and Albert finished them.

"We did it!" I'm happy.

"Good job, Butch," Albert thought, cleaning the yellow fluid from the mutaracha in the bed.

"My mom will be fine! You're the best friend I've ever had, man!"

"Butchy..." cried his mother.

"I'm here, Mom, and you're alive!" He turned toward Albert. "Listen, man, I know it's not much, but I want you to have my Tunnel Snake jacket. Come on, take it!" He insisted, sliding it and handing it over.

'Well, I suppose you have more pockets,' he thought. "And Butch really wants him to have it."

He took the jacket and put it on, then went away while Butch was looking after his mother.

'This thing is really quite comfortable,' he thought. The irony of his wearing the jacket continued to entertain him until the reality of the situation in which he was found took hold of him once again.

"Try to stay inside, don't get out."

"Sure colleague," Butch said as he looked after his mother.

Albert went on. He heard some cockroaches running into a room and stopped to see. It was the lounge where he celebrated his tenth birthday. It was dark. Inside was an elderly woman, thrown to the ground, dead. Most knew her as Grandma Taylor, although Albert wasn't sure who she really was. Three cockroaches were biting his body.

The sight shook him deeply. He deprived the cockroaches of their insignificant lives and then went on.

He was tired of seeing dead bodies and those damn cockroaches. It looked like there was one or a small group in each corner. Where did they all come from? And why are they pounding now? Did the alarms wake them up?

He folded a few more corners and climbed a stretch of stairs to his father's clinic and office. As he was on his way, he thought of passing by and seeing if he could find something useful. He froze when he saw another officer. Fuck...

But then he blew up relieved to see that it was the officer Gómez and officer Alexis, with whom he had always been a friend. I knew I could convince Gomez if I followed him. But first, he saw that the officers were dealing with some cockroaches. As he moved to help him, the cockroaches were suddenly surrounded by flames. That was the work of the robot Andy, using one of his three mechanical arms (in particular, the one that looked like a flashlight). He approached Gomez, who immediately recognized him.

"Uh, you're lucky I found you. The others will not be so indulgent." Gomez said. Albert thought of Kendall and then trembled when he suddenly thought of a bunch of cockroaches stumbling upon his body. Gomez continued, "Look, I don't know what you're doing, and I do not want to know. Just get out of here and I'll pretend I've never seen you."

"We'll pretend we haven't seen you, run," said Alexis recovering the air.

This surprised Albert. "Thank you, Officer Gómez. I always knew I could count on you."

"It is a real pity that we have come to this. I can't believe what they did to Jonas... Officer Mack was out of control... But you're a good boy. You didn't do anything to him." "I deserve this. Go find your dad, if you can."

"Did Officer Mack kill Jonas? Steve Mack? "Wally's brother?" asked Albert.

Gomez could only assent with his head. "A young boy who just got into the police. It's wild. Arrogant. I never liked his appearance. He's got a killer fire in his eyes, I thought. I suppose he was right."

Albert hoped he'd have to meet Steve when he left. With another thanksgiving, Albert passed by him and entered the medical area. Stanley was there, healing Andy. Andy was a Mister Handy Type I robot, a floating robot designed to help with worldly tasks. Usually, something like a maid.

"Hello, sir!" Andy spoke, his programmed courtesy shining as usual. "I think I heard something about the good Dr. James going out for some fresh air. He should come back at any time."

"Shut up, Andy," murmured Stanley while leaving an English key. He looked at Albert. "Hey boy, listen. I just want you to know that you and your father always did the right thing for us. In my book, you're asses. I'm not gonna give you any trouble, but the Supervisor gave a general order to "Report. I think they're going to kill you, Lloyd."

"If I know."

"Be careful, Albert. Especially if you follow your dad... you know, up there," Stanley said as he pointed to the roof.

Albert assented before entering his father's office and closing the door behind him. He needed to find something, anything, that could give him an idea of his father's motivation to cause all this to leave the vault. Damn it, I always told Albert not to get out of the vault! This was quite the opposite of everything your father had told you! Everything!

He spent a few minutes crushing the office, looking for evidence that, as far as he knew, did not exist. There was nothing. All that remained were scattered papers, a rolled desk, and broken glasses of precipitation. Absolutely nothing that would give him any kind of clue. Frustrated, angry, and seeking to dispel his anger, he looked at the wall and saw that framed quote that he had heard so many times throughout his childhood.

"I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To him who is thirsty, I will give free from the spring of the water of life."

He heard his father's voice saying these words, as he had heard thousands of times before and felt a boiling rage within him.

"Cursed be... why did you leave? Why?" He didn't speak to anyone in the room, but to the essence of his father, the quality of him who stayed here. Many of Albert's memories were of his father working at the clinic. "You always said you'd stay down... where it's safe... safe... This isn't what my mother wanted you to do... You always said... you son of a bitch!"

In an attack of rage, he blended the beat and crashed it against the appointment. The glass was broken and the frame fell to the ground.

Revealing a hole in the wall.

Albert blinked a couple of times. 'What the hell' he thought.

Inside was a bag and a small audio disc. He took the bag and opened it. It was full of bottle sheets.

"What? Bottle caps... did you collect bottle caps or something?" Albert said. He didn't know why, but he felt that he had to leave them, and slipped the bag into the pocket of a jacket, squeezing the creamer so they'd make too much noise. He took the holodisc, which was labeled with a label, "Home, sweet home," and slipped it into his Pip-Boy. I needed to know if this had anything to do with her father's departure.

He inserted it and pressed the play button on the bright screen. James' voice emanated from the Pip-Boy when the recording began to play. The distant alarms seemed to be attenuated when Lloyd heard his father speak.

"Well, here we are. Located safely and comfortably inside Refuge 101. It's been very cold down here. It's even colder without Catherine... oh, Catherine. I wish you were here with me. How the hell am I? Am I supposed to do this alone? Living in this hole. Taking care of our son... but this is our life now, so I guess it'll be better if I get used to it. The supervisor who runs the place is an authoritarian bastard, but I've dealt with worse things."

The recording ended there, and Lloyd could only wonder what he had just heard. Something stabbed him deep in his brain, a kind of vocabulary telling him that something in his father's voice meant something, something hidden. I didn't know what, but it sounded like...

'No... it couldn't be.'

It sounded like James wasn't always on the hood.

'But that would be impossible... isn't it?'

She shook her head. Anyway, hearing his father's voice had calmed him down. He heard the alarms on and knew he had to leave. Getting out of the vault... the only prospect of doing so still shook him.

'Time to go.'

Passing alongside some hot bodies of cockroaches, Andy graciously entered the courtyard, a large two-story room that served as a central hallway. The supervisor's office was in the main area of the courtyard. He almost immediately saw two people he knew, Tom and Mary Holden. Tom was talking.

"Don't you see him? This is our chance! We'll get out of here, like the doctor!"

Before Albert could make his presence known, Tom ran to one end of the courthouse, shouting his name and "Let it pass." He was received with shots; bullets rained from the end of the hallway and hit it directly, each giving in the blank. He was dead in seconds. Mary shouted and ran toward him, and she was also shot.

Albert could only stand and observe how two people, in the blossom of his life, were brutally murdered in front of his eyes.

I try to ignore that and I circle the area so I can't be seen by the guards and go up the stairs to the second floor. He found more cockroaches. Now holding the gun, he fired one shot each. They were destroyed by bullets. He heard a loud blow and looked to his left. The punch was done by a man on the other side of a window. He hit him and yelled and was visibly angry. It was Allen Mack, the father of Wally, Steve and Suzie Mack. Albert knew that he was a person who was very easily angry and who was concerned since his wife's death.

"You!" cried his voice, dampened by the glass but yet heard. "This is your fault! You and your stupid father! ¡He had to go and ruin things for everyone! Guards! Guards, over here! You know what, shit! Wait, I'm gonna get my gun!" The man turned and passed by a woman crying, probably Suzie.

Albert was determined not to have to kill anyone who was unnecessary. As he continued through a corridor toward the maintenance area, where there was a large central computer that handled much of the vital electronic system of the vault, more cockroaches attempted to attack him. He killed them all and recharged them when they lost bullets; this was his last load of ammunition.

There was a dead engineer in front of a large computer database. The job of cockroaches? He didn't stop investigating. 'Too many damn dead...' he thought. 'I need to get out of here... '

"To the supervisor!" he heard someone crying. A security guard jumped from behind a central computer and stumbled onto him with a fuck.

Security chief Hannon, Paul's father, Butch's gang. Albert pointed his gun and told Hannon to stop. Hannon smiled behind his plastic mask when he saw the gun. He raised his stick. Lloyd was trembling; I really didn't want to have to shoot the chief of security.

"You don't have spells, boy. No, now you are mine!" He loaded forward.

Albert closed his eyes. A touch of the trigger after Paul's father was dead. Slowly, Lloyd opened his eyes and looked at the body, seeing the broken mask and a splash of blood forming from the wound on Chief Hannon's face.

"Cursed be!" Albert yelled as he trembled. "Stop forcing me to kill you! Stop it! "Just... bluntly... it's enough!" he cried to the corpse. "Stop forcing me to shoot you! I don't want to shoot you!" A loud cry escaped, and tears came out of his eyes. Until that day, he had never had the idea of killing anyone, killing someone seriously. He never thought he'd need it.

That makes him kill two people today, including Kendall. It was cockroach food, and now I was sure of it, unless someone had found it and helped it.

Albert was losing control. He had to leave. Get out and escape. He stumbled upon another hallway, leaving behind Hannon's body, struggling to move forward, but was weakened by the emotional agitation that crushed his brain. I had to escape... 'Wait, what's that noise?' Albert heard crying. And I knew the source.

'Amáta!'

He ran to a window and looked inside. Amata was inside, sitting on a chair, crying. An officer stood beside her and beside him was her father, the supervisor. I could hear them, for the door not far away was open.

The supervisor, Alphonse, was talking. "Be reasonable, Amata. Officer Mack can enjoy this, but I can't. Just tell us where your friend is so we can talk to him."

"Steve Mack?" Albert thought. 'The one Gomez said he killed Jonah...'

Amata spoke between whistles. "He's my friend and... and I just wanted to help him. I was worried about him. What does it have to do with all this anyway? He did nothing! I swear!"

"That's why you need to tell me where he is. That's how I can talk to him, nothing more."

Amata kept silent.

"One more time, Officer Mack."

Mack raised his stick. "I think you need to learn something... respect!" he said, hitting her in the face with the last word. She shouted to him to stop, but he didn't, and he hit her again.

That made Albert angry. He ran into the room and fired into the ceiling to draw his attention, his bullet passed through the light from above and caused a brief rain of sparks. The three turned and looked at him astonished.

"Amata, go! Now!" He yelled. Amata, fortunately, immediately moved and jumped off the chair, running alongside Albert. Mack moved to intercept her, but Albert pointed at her feet and fired again, causing her to stop. Amata had escaped and hid in a room across the hallway.

Albert looked at Mack. His eyes were very open, full of tears and anger. "I have already killed four of your men," he said with his teeth tight, trying to sound loud. "Don't move."

The supervisor took a step forward. Albert pointed his gun at him, but he didn't seem to worry.

"I hope you are here to surrender, young man. You're in enough trouble. Don't make things worse for yourself. Or for Amata."

That touched a sensitive fiber in Albert. The Supervisor was trying to exploit his weaknesses. In't let it work.

Calming his breath, he threatened: "If you ever put a hand on Amata again, it will be better for you to believe that I will make you repent, son of a bitch."

The Supervisor crossed his arms. "I put the good of the vault above all other things, even my own paternal feelings. We must not allow feelings to overshadow our judgment!" Albert thought the supervisor was telling himself as much as he did to Albert. "But... I admit, that I admire your protective nature. Very well. I give you my word as Supervisor and as his father, that Amata will no longer suffer for your actions."

Albert blinked, removing the remaining fluid from his eyes. "I apologize if I don't believe you, because of that little show with your favorite officer here," Mack grumbled and took a step forward, and Albert pointed his gun at Mack's head. Lloyd murmured, "Keep your dog with a shorter strap, supervisor. I've been a little easy to shoot lately. Chief Hannon just found out about it in the other room." I could hardly believe the words that came out of his mouth. His whole body felt tense; as if he was going to break in half at any moment.

The Supervisor's eyes closed. "Mack, retreat." Mack squeezed his teeth and stood up, with the rod at his side. Alphonse looked at Albert again. "Now, if you really care about Amata, you will see how dangerous your father's actions were. Give up your weapons and surrender. End this dangerous situation! Too many lives have been lost because of the mutaraches and... certain individuals." The Supervisor paused for a moment before adding what seemed to be a late occurrence. "There is no need to join your father as a traitor to the vault."

Albert let a riot escape and swallowed, before saying, "I think it's too late for that, Alphonse." The Supervisor's waist was slightly arched.

"I'm tired of you and your traitor father not calling me by my official title. You will refer to me as the Supervisor, protector, and savior of all those in Refuge 101!" I asked.

Albert whispered, "Is that what you told Jonas before your lackeys killed him? My father is not a traitor. But you are a murderer and a worthless bastard, no greater than a humble bastard worthy only of me, and the contempt of all the others." To highlight his point, he spit on the floor, in front of the Supervisor. Albert wasn't sure where all the words that came out of his mouth actually came from. He could hardly believe that I was saying such things to the Supervisor; it was as if the things that he had always wanted to say were bubbling to the surface, escaping from his lips.

The Supervisor was obviously angry. "Let history judge that, okay? If I had really paid attention to Mr. Brotch, instead of sleeping and claiming as right a superior intelligence on the subject, I would have learned that history is invariably written by the winner."

"Then I suppose I'm a bad student," Albert answered.

The supervisor ignored it. "I intend to be the winner. You won't survive the night! Mack!"

Mack waved like a beast and ran toward Lloyd, blending his fucking shit. But Albert, despite how tense he was, was prepared. Albert avoided the attack and fired once. Only once. And Mack was dead, with a bullet hole in one side of his head. Steve's body collapsed and Lloyd found himself again with weak knees.

Alphonse suddenly approached. Immediately, he pointed to the Supervisor, who raised his hands. Lloyd approached and put the gun in his neck.

"I need your terminal password," he breathed.

"Oh? Is that all?" The Supervisor said in a condescending tone.

Albert didn't move. After a moment of silence, the Supervisor spoke.

"Amáta."

Albert lowered his gun and turned to leave. As he did, he took a last look at the Supervisor.

"You won't see me again, Alphonse. I promise you."

He went out and closed the door behind him. He fired at the panel, sealing the shot from the door. The supervisor watched him do this from the window in silence.

Albert entered the room leading to the supervisor's office. In the center was Jonas, crushed, bleeding, and dead. Albert didn't say anything, or cry. At the time, I was running on a kind of automatic pilot, but I still felt remorse. He never wanted this to happen. As shady as the action was, he decided to see if Jonas had anything in his person that could benefit him and looked back into his pockets.

He found a stimulant and another audio disc. He slipped on his Pip-Boy as he had done before and pressed to play. Her father's voice sounded. Near the end, the voice of Jonas was heard.

"Wait, Jonas, I need to record this first. I... really don't know how to tell you this. I hope you understand, but I know you might be angry. I thought about it for a long time. time, but in the end I decided it was better that you didn't know. A lot of things could have gone wrong and we really don't know how the Supervisor will react when he finds out. It's better if you can blame me for everything. You know I left. It was something I needed to do. You're an adult now. You're ready to be alone. Maybe someday things will change and we can see each other again. I won't tell you why I left or where I'm going. I don't want you to follow me. God knows that life on the vault isn't perfect, but at least you'll be safe. Just knowing that will be enough. keep me on the way."

"It is not my intention to hurry, Doc, but I would feel better if we were to end this at once."

"It's okay. Go ahead. Goodbye. I love you, son."

Albert kept silent.

"I'm sorry..."

Albert turned and saw Amata standing at the door and looking at him. He saw his face, squeezed and slightly swollen by crying. She was still swinging a little.

"Thank you... for your help," he said. "I told you my father wasn't himself... If you hadn't appeared, I don't know what would have happened."

Albert looked at the floor, Jonas.

"I killed four people with the gun you gave me. I didn't even check the first two to see who they were."

Both kept silent.

"They attacked me. They killed Jonas. They hurt you," he said, remaining silent.

"You did what you had to do," she said.

"I'm trying to believe that. I'm really desperately trying to justify the murders. The murders... of the murderers. The first two... They tried to kill me... I killed them." He lifted the gun and looked at it. "Nine years of shooting practice... this is the final result." She passed a hand through her hair and let a shout of pain escape as she tried to calm down.

"You are not a murderer," he said, approaching and kneeling next to him. "I know you're not..." she put a hand on her shoulder.

"I... I just don't know what's down here anymore..." Tears slipped on his face. He looked at her. "I can't stay. Too many things have happened. I have to go. The surface is the only place I can go." Her voice was disappointed, distant.

Amata hugged him and buried his face in his neck. He didn't surround her with his arms, but he closed his eyes. For a short time, they remained like this. Then he let it go and gave him a key.

"I found a spare in my father's room," he explained. "He'll open the door."

Albert nodded and took the key. He stood up and offered him his hand. She took him and stayed with him. "Let's get out of here," said Albert. She nodded her head.

They opened the door and entered the supervisor's office. It was dominated by the large circular desk in the center and the large computer terminal behind it. Albert went to the terminal and entered the password when requested.

"How did you know the password? What is it?" She asked.

"I... I persuaded your father to give me the code. It's your name."

She took a break. "He loves me. He has a strange and frustrating way of demonstrating it, but he cares about me."

Albert went back to the console. "Yes... there are a lot of files here... I'd like to read them and discover everything I can on the surface, or... anything that can really help."

"I don't care," he said loudly.

Albert connected a cable from the console to his Pip-Boy. Started downloading files. Shortly after, it was over. While searching, he found the subroutine to open the emergency exhaust tunnel and activated it.

In response, the Supervisor's desk rose up in the air, supported by metal pistons. The floor below moved, revealing a stone staircase leading down. Amata was surprised by this; she knew the escape tunnel, but never knew how it was. In silence, they went forward. This part of the complex was poorly illuminated and the walls were oxidized. Some cockroaches frequented the dark zone. They took care of them and the baseball beat quickly ended them. They advanced through dark corridors and finally found a panel on the wall. It was leading to the chamber of the main door.

An enormous steel-dented wheel served as the entrance to the vault. A large mechanism in front of it, once activated, would lock in the gear and make it rotate, opening the way to the surface. It was now closed; probably sealed after James left.

"Wow... this is..." said Amata.

Albert approached a control console. "Yes. There we go."

He put some switches in the active position and pressed some buttons. Whatever he did, it worked. The alarms sounded and the unlocking mechanism came to life. He went forward, embedded in the gear. He shut himself down and went aside. A loud scream was heard as the gear moved slowly. Beyond there was a dark cave. It was the first time Albert had seen real, raw stone.

He found himself repeating Amata's words. "That's all..."

They heard a knock at a door behind them. Then, a silent voice behind him. "He's opening the door! We need more guards here right now! Find them! Find the Supervisor!"

Albert looked at Amata.

"We actually did... we opened the door... My God, I hardly thought it was possible," he said, looking toward the cave beyond. An opaque fog and a strange smell reached their nasal cavities like they had never smelled before.

"I couldn't have done that without your help," he said. Their gazes met.

"No... You didn't need me. If anyone can survive out there, it's you." She put her hand on her shoulder. "I... wish you good luck."

He sneezed a few times before he spoke. "Come with me," he said.

She looked at him. "I... I don't know if I can... It's tempting. But I feel like my place is here. The vault needs me more than... you. I want to have a chance to make it right." my father."

Albert looked inside the cave, the dark place that meant his future. No matter how much it hurts, I'll accept it before you kiss Amata. The kiss hard as ten seconds, which seemed to last for hours, but at the moment of separating the door opened the door and Albert ran away. "Be careful, sweetheart!" I scream running from the door and coming out of the shelter seeing on the floor skeletons with signs They said things like "Help us" "Let us come in, kids," and "We're dying hanging" with discolored labels.

In the depth he saw a door and he approached there, only to turn to the door of the shelter closing and to see for the last time Amata who said goodbye. At the time of closing completely Albert approached the door. "Here we go," he said, and opening it, they were received by a blinding light, a light more powerful than any fluorescent light on the vault. The sunlight. Her eyes slowly adapted.

"Dear God..." Albert spoke, his voice just above a whisper.

They've always heard of the paramo. Of what the people of the vault thought would be behind the Great War, but they could never have imagined the extent of destruction.

It was just that a hellish waste of sand, land, and rock. The destroyed buildings, the huge structures that were once complete, were now nothing more than large remains of concrete, metal, and scattered debris. In the distance, they could see two structures, one tall and large, a broken stone needle, and the other a rounded building not far from it. They both stood out in the destroyed city that they knew was Washington, DC.

He had begun his search.