Fallout 1. Out of the Vault

_ War. War never changes. _

_ Since the dawn of their kind, when man's ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything: from God, to justice, to simple, psychotic rage. _

_ In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. The world was plunged into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation. _

_ But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter of human history. For man had succeeded in destroying the world - but war, war never changes. _

_ In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters, known as Vaults. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them - all except those in Vault 101. For on that fateful day, when fire rained from the sky, the giant steel door of Vault 101 slid closed... and never reopened._

_ But it is not here you were born, nor was it here _she_ was born. _

_ No, you came from a place long forgotten, even by yourself. You traveled here from the west, seeking to escape a world so eager to sink back into the wants and desires that brought forth the need for someone like you._

_ But it was here in this kingdom of ghosts that you found _her_, and it was here that you found something you never knew you had…_

_ Can you guess?_

* * *

Fallout 3

Kingdom of Ghosts

* * *

Following in his Footsteps:

Out of the Vault

_Vault 101 entrance…_

James sighed as the great Vault Door of Vault 101 slid closed behind him with a screech of metal. He had been a fool, running away from his responsibility all those years ago. Grief over the loss of his wife was no excuse. When little Valerie was born at the cost of his wife, he took the newborn and fled Rivet City with only his old friend Cross at his side.

It was here, almost seventeen years ago, that he had stood before this mighty door and begged the denizens inside to allow him and the baby entry. It had only been after several hours of heated discussion that the Overseer – a man named Almodovar – had consented to open the door, on the condition that James took over as the head of the medical staff and that no one ever speak of their arrival.

James had spent nearly two decades in that Vault in relative peace, caring for Valerie as she grew into a beautiful, intelligent woman like her mother. He regretted leaving her behind, but he knew she would be safe, far away from the dangers of the Capital Wasteland.

He wished dearly to return, to go back to his precious daughter, but he knew in his heart that he had to do this. He _had_ to go back to Project Purity, finish the work he abandoned so long ago. Casting one final glance at the giant steel door, James trudged down the dark passage, stepping over the rusted cans and broken bottles of countless wastelanders that took shelter in this old mineshaft – all of them fully aware of the warm, clean beds only a hundred feet from where they rested on rocky ground.

Pushing open the moldy door that blocked out the worst of the weather, James took in the sight of the Capital Wasteland. The ruins of a small town sat below the cliff the Vault entrance had been built into, most of the houses reduced to skeletal wrecks that provided little shelter from the cold wasteland nights. Only two buildings remained intact, both deserted.

The houses were some of the many scattered around the Capital Wasteland used by travelers needing a roof over their heads. James was very familiar with them, having spent several nights in similar locations. Wastelanders didn't bother settling in them – they provided too little security and were often in the open, making them excellent targets for Raiders looking for easy loot.

A harsh wind smashed into him, carrying not only the familiar smell of rust and radiation, but also the smell of sweat and human waste. A large, well-defended settlement lay maybe a kilometer to the southwest.

Megaton, it was called. A crude, uneven wall of salvaged scrap metal built around the impact crater of an airplane that crashed into the countryside, its precious cargo of an undetonated atomic bomb not deterring the wastelanders who took up residence in the easily defended crater. The town was now one of the major centers of trade in the Capital Wasteland, lying right across one of the main caravan routes.

It was dark – living under the constant glow of the Vault lights caused havoc with his night vision, and James had to stop himself from falling over the edge several time before he finally made contact with rad-soaked dirt, the boots of his jumpsuit now in tatters. "I'm going to need to pick up some _real_ clothing in-town," he muttered, thanking the stars he still carried a bag filled with the bottle caps used as currency. "These jumpsuits may be comfy, but they're no good out here."

Grumbling to himself about idiot jumpsuit designers and limping slightly, James followed the weathered path that would lead him to civilization.

_"Civilization…"_ he hummed quietly, _"I'll stay right here."_

* * *

_Megaton sniper's nest…_

Walker whistled an old tune from back west as she swept the night scope of her sniper rifle over the irradiated landscape. She was young, not even twenty, with pale skin, sleek black hair that reached halfway down her back and vibrant green eyes that glowed in the dark after a trip through an old bomb crater.

She had been one of the best back in the NCR, renowned for never failing a job. Her job was also the reason she was stuck on the other end of the continent, sitting atop a teetering sniper's nest welded to a wall surrounding a town that was built around an unexploded nuke.

Sometimes she hated her job.

Of course, an Adventurer-for-Hire was a lucrative position if you had what it takes, but she was getting bored of sitting around doing nothing while the local Brotherhood of Steel chapter finished the report Walker knew Old Lyons was doddering around, unsure of how to word the fact that he continued to betray over half of the laws in the Brotherhood Code by devoting his chapter to clearing out the Super Mutant-infested DC Ruins.

The other half of her mission had gone far better. Protector Casdin of the Brotherhood Outcasts – which, ironically, were the ones who followed Brotherhood philosophy – had been more than happy to assemble a report of all the fancy toys they had found to send back to California, seeing as the Enclave were the only ones with a long-range communications system and they was in no mood to share even if Walker could find them.

Casdin had warned her about taking a peek at the report however, but that was standard. If you couldn't trust someone with your mail, then you had no business with them at all. The report was coded, anyway, so even if she did look, it would take her too much time to decode.

With her mission 50% done and the other 50% locked in some internal struggle (there really was no way to politely phrase that you're still giving your boss the middle finger) Walker had left a note at the Citadel and went to find a job while she waited.

True to her name, she walked for a time, visiting every major settlement and plying her craft where it was needed. But she soon lost interest. The Capital Wasteland was surprisingly peaceful, with the exception of the occasional Super Mutant attack. In the end, her travels led her out of the empty wilderness and back to civilization.

Thankfully, Megaton had been in need of a gatekeeper for the night shift and it paid handsomely. Sheriff Simms had even reimbursed her of any used ammo during her shifts, damn he was a one of a kind fellow.

Her musings were cut short as she spotted a flash of white against the rock. "White," she breathed, assessing the possibilities. "Large, man-sized. Not mercs, not Supers, not beasties. Not moving fast, no hurry. White associated with doctors, Doc Hoff? No. Hoff not due for another week at earliest."

The white-clad figure came back into view and Walker brought up her scope to get a better look. "White lab coat. Either doctor or in need of new clothes. Male, Caucasian, slight tan, greying hair, unshaven. Age: forty to fifty. Stethoscope around neck, doctor. .32 pistol in belt, moderate condition, bulge in coat pockets consistent with three to four spare reloads. Healthy, well-fed for traveler. Wearing blue and yellow, Vaulter? Slight limp, not used to terrain. Not a threat. Likely from 101. Odd."

Setting the personalized sniper rifle against the railing, she watched him make his way up to the heavy gates of Megaton. "You want in, yes?" she called down to him.

"Yes," he replied calmly, if not tiredly.

"Sit tight, I'll open up the gates after I get the Sheriff," Walker called out, grabbing ahold of a thin pipe than ran to the ground below and sliding down it.

Lucas Simms had the biggest house in Megaton. There were only seven or so, with all the other residents living in the big common house, but his was the biggest of them all. It was also the only house with a door on the second floor leading into Simms's bedroom, and only Walker and Stockholm had the key.

The door opened silently, but Simms was a light sleeper and woke the moment Walker's heavy boots touched dirt. "Someone at the gate?" he asked briskly, slipping into his iconic duster and strapping on his trusty .44 Magnum.

Walker nodded. "Single Caucasian male, fifty-to-forty range, greying hair, beard, wears white lab coat over Vault jumpsuit, bit of a limp."

"He gonna be trouble?" asked Simms.

"He's carrying a .32 and a few reloads, so, not likely."

"Mm-hmm," Simms muttered, placing his Sheriff's Hat on and following Walker outside. "You think he's from the old Vault?"

"If he is, he knows the lay of the land well enough," Walker replied, grabbing one of the two winches needed to open the gate. "Might be from another one, but he was heading down the northwest path, and all of the other Vaults I know of out here are to the east. Maybe they're finally sticking their noses out again, but I doubt they'd send a doctor to do that."

"If he's not a threat, then you can quit with the analysis," Sims grunted. "Now put a smile on that face and help me greet our new guest."

"Aye, sir," Walker said cheerfully, slapping a sappy grin on her face.

The man stepped inside and Simms let go of the winch, making the gate slide shut behind the man. "Howdy stranger, name's Lucas Simms, I'm the Sheriff here in Megaton. Where are you from?"

"Rivet City," The man answered, shaking Simms's hand. "I got a little lost and went right by you. Haven't been this way in some time. I'm James Sellis, doctor."

"Not exactly the best gear for a solo trip out to Megaton," Walker remarked, noting the thoroughly shredded lower legs of James's jumpsuit.

"Heh, too true," James chuckled. "Just proves I've spent too much time cooped up in that metal deathtrap. I came out here looking for something for an old project of mine. Who in town would I need to see about rumors of pre-war tech?"

Everything James said was true, Walker noted, but there were some things he was hiding. Simms, however, had said to drop it, so she didn't speak, merely nodding to James before climbing up the latticework of pipes back to her perch. "He can bunk in my house if he doesn't make as mess," she called, tossing the key down to Simms. "The sun won't rise for several hours, and I've got a .308 HE with some Raider's name on it."

* * *

_Megaton gatehouse…_

Simms chuckled as James watched as the woman scaled the pipes effortlessly. "Yeah, that's Walker. She's a bit odd, but a crack shot and doesn't mind the night shift. She won't mind if you grab forty winks at her place."

James smiled but pushed back the offered key. "I'm afraid I can't stay, I have to get back to Rivet City as soon as I can, now about my question?"

Simms scratched his beard. "Well, Moriarty's should be open for another hour or so. Colin probably knows where you can get your gizmo, but he'll charge you for it."

"Money won't be a problem," James replied. "I'll see Moriarty and be out of your hair. Thank you Sheriff."

He shook Simms's hand again and set out to the still-buzzing lights of Moriarty's Saloon.

Simms shook his head. "Busy fella, can't even stay the night. Wonder what that's about?" He frowned. "And now I'm the one overthinking it. That girl is a bad influence on me."

Humming, he went back to his house, hung Walker's key on the hook, and fell asleep, thankful that a person leaving could pull the winch themselves. He was getting too old for this job.

* * *

_Megaton Main Street…_

James's bag was considerably lighter as he made his way back to the gate. Moriarty hadn't changed a bit from when they had first met sixteen years ago. Still an arrogant little bartender who liked having people under his thumb. Last time, Cross had nearly punched his head in after the tenth rude remark. He smiled and shook his head. Good times.

Moriarty had, at least, provided him with the needed information – and some boots. The Brotherhood was still locked in battle with the Super Mutants over the DC Ruins. They had even taken the Memorial, but once he got the team back together, James was confident that he could get Lyons to lend his support.

His current objective was to get to the GNR plaza, where the man known as Three Dog had managed to assemble a radio dish that covered the entire Capital Wasteland – even if it was currently on the fritz. It would also be a good place to earn the respect of the Brotherhood Knights stationed there. If there was one thing they respected, it was strength. Navigating the Super Mutant-infested DC Ruins on his own would show them he wasn't messing around. It would also give him a chance to sharpen his skills.

The was a muffled thump as Walker – the gatekeeper with those strange eyes – dropped from her perch, landing right in front of him. "You are leaving, yes?"

James nodded. "Yes, Moriarty knew what I needed to know and now must get back to Rivet City and assemble a salvage team to recover the necessary materials."

Walker nodded once and led him to the winches. Together they worked the handles and the gates slid open once more. Walker set the lock in place and gave James a brief wave as he set out once more into the wastes. She watched him for a time, her mind filled with so many thoughts that no amount of paper could record them.

Releasing the lock, Walker let the gate slide shut with a satisfying thump. She didn't like it. James was hiding something, and she had a feeling it would come back and bite her later.

She considered 'asking' Moriarty what info he gave James, but decided against it. What would come would come, and she would be ready for it when it did.

Just like always.

_Saving Progress…_

* * *

Author's Note: I do my best to research the subject I'm going on about, and am writing this in tandem with a playthrough of Fallout 3 to refresh my memory of what happens so I don't spend six hours on the wiki going over the plot and missing something important that was left out. I will be employing Artistic License occasionally, but don't really want to do it too much. This is rated M to match the rating of the Fallout series and due to content.

As a warning before you get too far, this story may/will contain: depictions of gore (you pansy), adult themes (this will only make you want to read more, won't it?), LGBT themes (if you have a problem, then leave), unrealism (this is a story based on a game where you fight giant animals mutated by a virus/radiation and the main character can walk in space with a fingerless glove on), drug use (again, Fallout), death (obviously), an unreliable narrator (I am not!), Bible references (it makes me look sophisticated), potential mindfuckery, crude language, cruelty to things you shouldn't be cruel to, violence (how shocking), allusions to anarchy, allusions to communism, allusions to democracy (which is NON-NEGOTIABLE), allusions to some other political view, allusions to atheism, slavery, opinions (all a lie), seditious thinking (you commie/penguin), changes to canon, references to other media (in America), snark (hah hah), sarcasm (not), medium awareness, a shark in a tutu fighting cybertronic space demons, evil people, Artificial Intelligence, people, racist people, happiness, Lovecraftian influences, immortal dogs, butchery of medical practices (you quack), spoilers (if you haven't played Fallout 3, then too bad), sellping erorrs, metaphorical torture, semantics (a relative word), robots (bip-bop boop), soundtrack alterations, depressing topics (boo-hoo), flawed characters, time travel, religious discussion, copious badassitude, tropes, technical crossovers, controversial topics, human rights discussion, supernatural occurrences, copious use of the English language, use of other languages to sound important, extraterrestrial life, anvils, butchery of science, inconsistent terminology, anime logic, video game logic, lampshades, hypocrisy, Original Characters (steal and I do nothing due to lack of copyrights) and other things.

You have been warned.

This is my first fic on this site. _Be brutal._ Not really of course, but if you want to review, say something interesting.


	2. The Quest Begins

Following in his Footsteps:

The Quest Begins

_Moriarty's Saloon…_

Colin Moriarty whistled a jaunty tune as he wiped down another glass with a washrag. Business was good today, and it wasn't even noon. Everyone in the building was in a good mood – well, except for Walker. The quiet nighttime sniper didn't show much emotion at all, but today seemed like a particularly emotionless one.

He had seen that empty look before. She had worn it the day she arrived in town, bearing news that Grayditch had been wiped out by a colony of fire-breathing ants. Moriarty might've told her to cut back on the drink if she hadn't looked like she got in a fight with a living flamethrower. Only a little boy named Brian Wilks had survived the attack, and Walker had taken him to live with his relatives in Rivet City. Three Dog had reported on it the next day, calling her 'the mysterious Walker of the wastes'.

They had a good laugh over that pun and Walker paid for a round of drinks while she told story after story from back east. Tales of the legendary Vault Dweller and his descendant, the Chosen One and how the two of them rebuilt the wasteland back into a real society. That story had prompted a drunken day trip out to Vault 101 to ask them to break their water chip so they could send out a hero to save the Capital Wasteland. He had lost out on a number of bottles that day, but the morale boost had been worth it.

The door to the saloon opened and Sheriff Simms entered. "Morning Colin," he called out sociably.

"Why good morning to you as well, Sheriff," Colin responded with equal cheer. The two men had a mutual dislike of each other, but it wouldn't do for the citizens of Megaton to see them at each other's throats, so they acted fairly friendly to each other. "What can I do for you this day?"

"A water and some stew if you have," Simms replied, sliding over a handful of caps.

Colin counted the caps, loaded them into the cash register, and walked back into the kitchen to heat up a bowl of stew. It was squirrel, but it tasted pretty good with a dash of seasoning. Pulling open the fridge, he selected a bottle of cold tap water and scooped up the bowl just as the timer went off.

Setting the bowl and bottle down, he gave the Sheriff a cheery smile. "Here you are Sheriff, enjoy."

Simms returned the smile and turned to Walker, who was sipping on her Nuka-Cola with evident relish. She loved that stuff. "Someone at the gate needs to see you, I sent 'em to wait at your house."

Walker looked up. "Oh? Did Lyons finally get off his ass and finish that report? If he takes too much longer they'll mark me off as dead and I'll have to build my reputation all the way back up again."

Simms shook his head. "Nah, just some kid. She looked like she could use a rest, so I sent her off to your place for a nap."

"She's not mine," Walker replied automatically.

Simms snorted, nearly spraying stew everywhere. "That's not what I meant. Girl was running from a gang of Raiders. Stockholm dropped 'em before they got too close. She was askn' for 'the Walker', so I figure she meant you."

"Well, sounds like I have a potential job to do," Walker grunted, finishing her soda and standing up. "I'll keep you posted."

* * *

_Walker's home…_

"Hells," Walker whispered. "I knew something like this would happen. I hate it when I'm right."

The girl lying passed out in her bed was young, maybe sixteen or so, with silky brown hair tied in a braid, a cute, heart-shaped face, and wearing a badly torn Vault jumpsuit. The letters '101' could still be made out on her back.

James was most likely from Vault 101 and had left for some reason. The girl on her bed was obviously James's daughter – his hair, the parts that weren't grey, were the exact same shade of brown. Star Paladin Cross had once mentioned escorting a man and his child to Megaton from Rivet City, a story both Moriarty and Simms had confirmed. It had been sixteen years, and Simms hadn't recognized James, but Moriarty obviously had.

"Would Sir need anything at the moment?" Wadsworth, her Mr. Handy asked politely, floating by the open door.

"Two bottles of water from the fridge, pure," Walker said quietly.

"Of course, Sir," the robot said cheerfully, bustling off to the tiny kitchen.

Walker sat herself down in her comfy armchair. She knew exactly what would happen, what she'd have to do, but that didn't mean she'd like it. Her guns were safely locked away in the city armory, and she carried all her caps on her, so she had made a habit of offering her house to travelers. She rarely used her bed anyways, preferring to rest under the stars.

Wadsworth floated back in, two cold bottles of pure water clutched in his claw. "Here you are Sir."

Walker accepted the two bottles, setting one on her nightstand. "Thank you Wadsworth."

"Of course, Sir."

The girl stirred as Wadsworth hovered away. Her eyes, Walker noted, were a beautiful shade of azure, the color water was in all the old books. "Nnh… Where am I?"

Walker passed her the bottle of water. "Here, drink this first. You look like you've been through a lot."

The girl accepted the bottle with a shaky hand. "Th-Thank you," she stuttered, taking a long swallow. "I'm looking for my father, the man on the radio said you could help."

Walker rolled her eyes, but the girl didn't see. The Capital Wasteland had needed a hero, so Three Dog had set her up as one, a champion of justice to right the wrongs of the wastes and give the people a symbol of hope.

It had also led to Simms naming her an honorary member of the Regulators, complete with the iconic duster and hat. She wore it occasionally, but it often led to newcomers mistaking her for the deputy, which Deputy Weld did not appreciate.

"What's your name?" she asked kindly.

"V-Valerie Sellis."

Bingo. No escape now. A quest had been given, and Walker had no choice but to see it through. If she didn't, she'd never be able to live with herself. She'd have to tell Simms she'd be gone for a time, but the grizzled old sheriff would understand.

"His name is James, yes?"

Valerie nodded.

"Yes, I saw him. He arrived late last night, paid a visit to the saloon, and left before dawn, said he was heading to Rivet City. I can help you. You rest a little while longer, I'll return with my gear."

Walker stood up and left before Valerie could speak. As she walked down the stairs, she called out to Wadsworth. "Keep an eye on her and don't let her leave the house. Answer any questions she asks and feed her if she gets hungry."

"As you say sir," the robot said happily.

Before she passed through the door into Megaton, her eyes fell on a book, one of the few left in the house by the previous inhabitant. It was a tale of an aspiring hero, thrust into the role he always wanted by the arrival of a terrible at the gates of his home. It was his belief that only the weapon of the last great warrior of his home could defeat the tyrant. As he searched, assisted by his elderly mentor, he came across a cryptic message carved into the stone of his home by the warrior himself. In the end, he recovered the ancient weapon, slaying the terrible serpent who had stolen it from its resting place and fought the tyrant, killing him with a single blow.

Those words remained in her mind long after reading the story, and each time she read the tale again, the words became something new. They called out to her, a reminder of the inevitable and of the difference between Fate and Destiny.

To me, it meant something different. Maybe one day, I'll tell you.

* * *

_Moriarty's Saloon…_

Simms was where Walker left him, sitting at the bar, chatting amicably with Gob, the ghoul bartender. Walker liked Gob. He was a friendly soul, always willing to help a person out if they treated him right, which was why he never did anything Moriarty told him to unless he was paid for it.

She gave the ghoul a smile and sat down next to Simms. "I'll be out of town for a couple days, I've got a trip to make to Rivet City. Need anything?"

Simms shook his head. "Nah, I've got all I need."

Walker turned to Moriarty, who was at the other end of the bar. "Does the saloon need anything?"

Moriarty shook his head and went back to his conversation with Jericho, something about a lost caravan.

Simms sighed. "I should've known you'd jump at the chance for an adventure. Ol' Megaton just isn't enough for you, is it?"

Walker chuckled. "Sorry Sheriff, but who am I to deny a damsel in distress? A hero such as myself has an obligation to go above and beyond the call of duty. I'll leave the key with you once I grab my gear."

"You're a one-of-a-kind gal, Walker," Simms said fondly. "The Capital Wasteland needs more people like you."

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards in that tiny smile she gave. Nobody saw the flash of sadness in her eyes. "Maybe, maybe." She set a large stack of caps on the counter and backed away.

"Listen up!" she shouted, drawing the attention of the entire saloon – over half of Megaton's population. "I'm off on another grand adventure, so a round on the house will have to tide you folks over for a time – this is gonna be a big one!"

The patrons gave a shout and raised their glasses in a salute as the door swung shut behind her. They were more interested in the free alcohol than whatever Walker did with her spare time, but there were a few who honestly appreciated her presence.

* * *

_Megaton Armory…_

"Morning, Deputy Steel," Walker said, saluting the gunmetal-green Mr. Gutsy in charge of guarding the city's militia gear and heavy ordinance.

"A very good morning to you, Sir!" the Gutsy said with vigor, bobbing up and down in a rough approximation of a salute. "Are you here to retrieve your personal weaponry?"

Walker nodded, pulling open a locker. Inside hung an impressive collection of knives – Butcher's Knives, Throwing Knives, Combat Knives, Bowie Knives, Kukris, Stab-and-Forgets (sharpened butter knives), Switchblades, Trench Knives, Machetes, and the prize of her collection: a Legion Gladius. From her arsenal of cutting implements she retrieved two combat knives, a long machete, a bag of Stab-and-Forgets, four switchblades and a kukri.

Underneath the dangling blades sat a small collection of guns and low-yield explosives. Walker selected a pair of weathered 10mm Pistols – silenced, three frag grenades, her trusty customized sniper rifle, and a classic Varmint Rifle from back west to add to her duffel bag. Six clips of 10mm rounds, four clips of .308 rounds and a two cases of thirty 5.56mm rounds soon followed.

She closed the locker and opened the one next to it. Sitting high in the sniper nest, Walker had little need for protective gear, but when she was outside Megaton's walls, she wore a lightweight suit of leather armor. It wouldn't block anything bigger than a .32, but it was very reliable. Walker had made her own modifications to it – namely, a set of metal bracers with serrated edges and a plethora of straps to hold all her weapons. The bracers looked dangerous, but their real purpose was to hide the fact that there was a gap just large enough to fit a combat knife under each of them.

Walker slid off her clothes and into the form-fitting leather, stuffing the only-slightly-pungent top and trousers into her bag and affixing her weapons to her body. When she had finished, she reached inside the locker once more and retrieved her unstrung bow, bowstring and a quiver of twenty arrows.

Bows were rare, but Walker had learned from an old ghoul how to draw a bow and fire an arrow when she was younger. The bow was made of a strong, but surprisingly supple alloy and the shafts were aluminum with triple-edged broadhead points that had been incredibly expensive to make. Her bow was reserved for true threats: Super Mutants and other large predators, anything else would be a potential waste of one of her precious arrows.

Tying the quiver to her hip and gripping her bow like a walking stick, she exited the armory.

* * *

_Walker's Home…_

Valerie sat in the bed, hands clasped around the water bottle. It was hard for her to come to terms with what had happened. Jonas was dead. Her father was gone. She had left the Vault behind and stepped out into the wastes.

The man on the radio – distorted as it was – talked about someone called 'The Walker' and how she was a great hero like in the old stories. Valerie had read The Tale of King Arthur so many times over; she could only hope The Walker was like Sir Lancelot or Sir Galahad, a noble knight who fought for peace and happiness.

But the woman who had stood over her didn't act like that at all. She had just stared at her like she was just a package to deliver with those piercing eyes. Her voice had been kind, but her posture was not.

Had she made a mistake? Should she had gone somewhere else instead?

"The Miss appears to be troubled," the Mr. Handy said, floating into the room. He reminded her of Andy the assistant cook, and that just made her feel worse. "Is something the matter?"

"She seems so cold," Valerie said at last. "Her voice was so kind, but everything else was so wrong."

"Ah," the butler-bot hmm-ed. "The Sir tries her best to be friendly, but her life was not an easy one. I believe it has been some time since she has ever felt the need to truly care about someone. The man one the radio has set her up as a hero, a symbol of hope for the people of the Capital Wasteland. It was not something she asked for, and now she feels obligated to help in any way she can."

"O-Oh," Valerie stammered. "I-I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have-"

"Nonsense," Wadsworth said breezily, "the Sir is a kind person. She would not abandon you or cast you out into the cold."

"No, I wouldn't," Walker said softly, ghosting into the room.

"O-Oh, I'm s-sorry, I d-didn't mean-"

"There's no need to apologize," Walker said gently, placing a hand on Valerie's shoulder. "I did what I did because it was the right thing to do. Nothing can change that. Are you feeling better?"

Valerie blushed and ducked her head. "Oh, um… yes, thank you."

"Good, come with me. If you want to get to Rivet City in one piece, you'll need a few things."

"L-Like what?" Valerie asked, following Walker down the stairs. A large table sat in the center of the main floor, a map of the entire wasteland painstakingly etched into the wooden surface.

"First of all, you can't go walking around in the remnants of that jumpsuit," Walker began, indicating the tattered fabric barely clinging to Valerie's back. "There's a spare set of clothes in that dresser over there, go try them on – they should fit well enough."

"Thank you, but… um…" Valerie said awkwardly, fidgeting.

Walker blinked, a tinge of color tainting her cheeks. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry, I'll turn around."

Valerie slipped off her ruined jumpsuit and into the tunic and trousers. She took the time to scan the map with her Pip-Boy. "You can turn around now, I guess," she said.

"Good," said Walker, her eyes quickly roving up and down Valerie's form. "You know how to handle a weapon, yes?"

Valerie nodded. "Um, yes. Daddy gave me a BB gun when I was younger, and Officer Gomez taught me to fire a pistol." She stopped, tears leaking down her cheeks. "H-He helped me escape w-when the Overseer found out Daddy left the vault. H-He t-told me to be b-brave a-and run for the d-d-door a-and-"

Walker slid forward and wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl, her tears soaking into her chest. "Shhh… It's okay," Walker whispered, patting her back comfortingly.

Valerie wasn't sure how long she stood there, weeping into the embrace of the older girl. She didn't try to stop, simply letting all her feelings pour out.

A small fraction of Walker's mind ruined the moment by commenting on how this was like something out of a romance novel.

When Valerie's sobs subsided, Walker released her. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly, leading Valerie over to a chair.

Valerie made one last, gulping sob and nodded. "I-I lived in th-the Vault f-for s-sixteen years, just me and my d-daddy. My m-mom d-died when I was little so Daddy had to raise me all b-by himself. Th-There's not many people in the Vault, just a dozen families or so. Two nights ago, Daddy l-left the Vault. Th-The Overseer was furious, h-he had Jonas killed a-and sent his men a-after me. My friend Amata h-helped me escape, b-but w-when I escaped, I-I w-was a-attacked."

Walker knelt down, putting a hand on her shaking shoulders. "It's okay, they can't hurt you now."

"I-I just d-don't know w-what to do," she sobbed.

"You stand up," Walker said, a faraway look in her eyes, her voice caught between sadness and pride. "You stand up and start walking. You walk as far as you can go and then keep on walking. Cry, but never regret. Cast away your fears and never turn back. If you run, return stronger. If you fall, you rise taller." She pointed at the door. "You've spent sixteen years living in a hole in the ground, isolated from the dangers of the world. If you tell people you're from a Vault, they'll laugh and mark you off as dead. They'll think you don't have what it takes to survive out here. _Prove them wrong_."

Valerie sucked in a breath and nodded. "Thank you."

Walker gave her a sad smile. "Don't."

They broke apart and Valerie pulled herself to her feet. "What do you need me to do?"

Walker's eyes moved to the Vault-Tec bag lying by the door. Walking over and inspecting the contents, she found a leather jacket with the words 'Tunnel Snakes' on it, a broken BB gun and tin of BBs, a variety of medical supplies and a damaged baseball bat. She passed the jacket to Valerie. "Here, might as well put this on as well. Do you know how to use these things?" she asked, holding up the medical supplies.

Valerie slipped on the jacket, nodding. "Yes, Daddy was teaching me to be the next Vault Doctor. I also learned how to work computers and fix things."

Walker blinked. "That's good. One of the most important things to have in the Capital Wasteland is a profession people need, but is hard to come by. I'll give you a test on some of the basics, teach you how to maintain your equipment and help you earn some caps before we set out for Rivet City."

"But my father-" Valerie began, but was cut off.

"He'll be fine," Walker reassured her. "The route to Rivet City is fairly clear, and there are several safe spots along the river for people to rest on the journey. But his best defense is that lab coat he's wearing."

"Why?" Valerie asked curiously.

"As I said, having a profession people need, but is hard to come by is a very good thing to have. In the wasteland, being a doctor is one of the safest professions ever. Not even Raiders or bandits will attack a doctor; it's considered downright wrong to try hurting one of the few people who can patch you up. Odds are, he'll likely get sidetracked by a request for help from someone along the river."

"As long as he's okay."

The corners of Walker's mouth twitched upwards in a small smile as she reached into her own duffel bag. "He will. And take this, you'll need it," she said, passing Valerie the Varmint Rifle and ammo case.

"I don't know how to use this," Valerie said apologetically.

"That's why I'm going to teach you," Walker explained, beckoning the girl to follow her out the door.

_Saving Progress…_

* * *

Author's Note: Thus begins my intention to portray the Lone Wanderer in a more realistic light, which will clash horribly with some of the logic I employ. Consistency is not one of my strong suits, but I try my best.

Speaking of consistency, I am trying to make these chapters short and near book-length rather than 50-pages-at-a-time epics in an effort to think like a real author and persuade me to stop pouring all my time into fanfiction and write a real story for once.

As a warning before you get too far, this story may/will contain: Cannibalism (frowned upon in most societies), philosophy, black comedy, water bottles, lessons in post-apocalyptic economics (it's amazing how much sense bottle caps make as currency), giant crabs, genetic engineering, insane troll logic, horrific implications, allusions to fascism (some day I will look up what it means) and semantics.

I have the feeling I forgot something. Oh well.


	3. Mole Rat Grenades

Sidequest Sidetracking

The Wasteland Survival Guide:

Mole Rat Grenades

_Craterside Supply…_

Moira Brown perked up as one of her favorite customers entered her store. "Oh hey there! How'ya doin'?"

"Well enough, Moira," Walker said pleasantly, nodding to the surly mercenary leaning against the wall by the tool bench. "I need that list of research topics you've got and that old Vault suit hanging in back."

The eyes of Megaton's eccentric shopkeeper shone like two balls of nuclear fire on a sunny day. "Really? You mean it? Oh goody! You just made my day!"

She bustled off, returning shortly with a scrap of paper and a highly-modified Vault 101 jumpsuit. "You can just go into the other room and put it on," she said happily. "Oooo, I just can't wait!"

Walker accepted the items and passed the jumpsuit to Valerie. It was for the most part a standard Vault-Tec jumpsuit, but multiple points had been reinforced with thick leather and a metal plate was welded to the right shoulder, to which a bandolier was attached.

At Walker's nod, she slipped into the other room to put it on, admiring how comfortable it was. Stuffing her clothes into her bag, she stepped back into the shop.

"Ooooo! It's perfect!" Moira squealed, staring at Valerie in wonder.

Walker cleared her throat, trying to draw the excitable storekeeper's attention. "Moira, about this Mole Rat-Repellent…"

_Outside Megaton…_

"Umm, what was that about?" Valerie asked inquiringly.

Walker grimaced. "Sorry about that. Moira has this dream to write a 'Wasteland Survival Guide' and I've been helping her out with some of her field research – and by field research, I mean doing strange and improbable things in the bastard name of science." She passed Valerie the list. "See for yourself."

_Moira's list of research __**(Walker's list of painful activities)**__:_

_Locating potential food supply: Incomplete._

_Locating potential medicine source: Incomplete._

_Radiation poisoning study: __**Complete.**_

_Advanced radiation poisoning study: __**Complete.**_

**_If I listen closely, I can hear my genes crying. Radiation is _****_not_****_ fun. Neither is standing is an overflowing toilet for three hours. The plus side is that radiation now somehow fixes broken bones. Note: This applies only to Walker, just as radioactive healing applies only to ghouls. Do not try this at home._**

_Minefield navigation: __**Complete.**_

_Mine sample recovery: __**Complete.**_

**_Defusing mines: easy. Defusing mines while some nutter shoots at you with a sniper rifle: not easy. Fast hands and faster wits can get you an awful lot. Including landmines. Tip: nothing moves well when it lacks feet._** **_Yao Guai may be fast, but a mine will still blow their feet off._**

_Mole Rat repellent: Incomplete._

_Advanced study: Incomplete._

_Mirelurk Society Observer Unit placement: __**Complete.**_

_Non-hostile unit placement: __**Complete.**_

**_Mirelurks have some relationship with Mirelurk Kings, despite them not being genetically related. 'lurks are aggressive and have violent tendencies, but no observable sapience._** **_They descended from local crabs. I'd call them 'Scylla Serrata Horrendus.' They are also delicious. _**

_Grievous injury study: __**Complete.**_

_Skeletal damage study: __**Complete.**_

**_Pain's an abstract. I advise staying focused on the definable things, like survival. Or revenge. Broken bones should be treated immediately if you have the materials to make a cast/sling. If leg is broken, find stick or metal spar for support until you reach a doctor._**

_Rivet City history research: Incomplete._

_Advanced Rivet City history research: Incomplete._

_Install processor widget in the RobCo production facility mainframe: __**Complete.**_

_Hack RobCo production facility mainframe: __**Complete.**_

**_The entire facility was dormant until I plugged in the Overlord. It went dormant again after I hacked the mainframe and set all the bots into annihilator mode. It was robotic carnage. But I caused it, so it was the okay sort of carnage. In retrospect, I should have taken them with me, but science demands sacrifices._**

_Library data recovery: Incomplete._

_Library archive data recovery: Incomplete._

_Manufacture Wasteland Survival Guide at Hubris Comics: Incomplete._

Valerie read the list with growing disbelief. "Minefield navigation? Radiation poisoning study? _Skeletal damage study?_"

Walker nodded and lifted a piece of wood slathered in a strange green goo. "Done, done, and done. Your first test is to hit seven Mole Rats – those things down there," she said pointing at a small group of pink creatures the size of dogs, "and see what happens."

"Won't they attack me?" Valerie asked nervously. "Those teeth look dangerous."

Walker drew one of her pistols and loaded a clip. "That is what this is for," she said, handing the handgun to Valerie. "If the stick doesn't work, shoot them once each in the head. I'll be up here with my sniper rifle if you run into trouble."

Taking a deep breath, Valerie crept down the hill, her feet making surprisingly little sound on the rough terrain. "She's light on her feet," Walker said to herself, keeping her crosshair trained on a point over the girl's shoulder.

The lead Mole Rat perked its head up, sniffing the air. Valerie froze, not four meters from the group. Walker leveled her sight on the leader's head, her finger brushing the trigger, waiting. The Mole Rat dropped its head, and the two women let out a sigh of relief.

Silently, Valerie crept to the top of a small rock and waited for the procession of mutated critters to pass underneath. As the lead Mole Rat passed beneath her, she lay down and tapped the pink creature on the nose with the goo-covered stick.

The results were, to say the least, interesting. The Mole Rat's head began to smoke ominously, and then exploded in a violent shower of blood and grey matter. Squealing in anger, the remaining Mole Rats charged the rock.

The sniper rifle's muffled retort mixed with the sound of self-detonating craniums and the puff of a Silenced 10mm into a cacophony of violence. In no time at all, the Mole Rats lay dead, their heads spread across the landscape.

"Well, that was… interesting," Valerie said after Walker reached the bottom of the hill. "Why did they explode? _How_ did they explode?"

Walker shrugged. "No idea, blame science. Anyways, that wasn't too bad. You held yourself together well."

Valerie blushed under the praise. "O-Officer Gomez sometimes took some of the more trustworthy kids into the old mine tunnels to exterminate the Mole Rats that kept burrowing in."

Nodding, Walker pulled out the list and marked the task as complete, scribbling down a handful of notes. "That's good. Now then… how to phrase this… 'Direct contact with repellent stick results in an unexpected chemical reaction with an unknown substance – possibly brain fluid – in the subject's head, causing the subject to produce a smoke smelling faintly of petrol before the pressure builds to the point where the subject's skull cavity cannot withstand the pressure and explodes violently.' Do you have anything to add?"

"Have it noted that the subject does not seem to suffer any adverse effects from close proximity, the repellent must be applied directly," Valerie said, flicking a piece of Mole Rat flesh off her shoulder with a shudder. "Ugh, these things don't smell any better when they're dead."

"Good observation," Walker noted, adding that to the list. Her eyes caught sight of something lumbering over a nearby ridge. "Hells. Come away quickly," she whispered, dragging Valerie up the hill.

Valerie's eye widened as she took in the creature padding its way towards the remains of the Mole Rats. It stood as tall as she was, with a bulky torso and short, stubby legs ending in long, ragged claws. Patches of black fur clung to its sickly green hide and its small, beady eyes roved around the area. It sniffed the carcass of the first Mole Rat, huffed, and began to messily devour the remains.

"Yao Guai," Walker said quietly. "Strong. Tough. Good sense of smell. Poor eyesight. Claws can cut steel. Hide is tough. Need high-caliber bullet to pierce. Beta predator of Capital Wasteland."

"B-Beta?" Valerie stammered, staring at the creature with growing horror. "What could be stronger than that?"

"Deathclaw," Walker hissed, bringing her sniper rifle up to rest its sights on the feasting Yao Guai. "Three meters tall. Very strong. Spiked tail. Curved horns. Big teeth. Long claws – hence name. Tan-brown scales. Moves slowly at first glance. Covers distances quickly when running. You see, you run and hide."

A standard sniper rifle from the Capital Wasteland would have lacked the stopping power to punch through the Yao Guai's thick skin and dense bone, but few of Walker's weapons were standard. Her weapon was a matte-black DKS-501 outfitted with an adjustable zoom night scope, silencer/suppressor hybrid, and a hollowed-out stock to store an additional magazine. Carved into the frame were the words _'Fatum Iustum Stultorum' _– The Just Fate of Fools. Other sniper rifles were weapons, Walker's was a masterpiece of post-war engineering.

She pulled the trigger, launching the .308 Hollow-Point round at supersonic speeds into the eye socket of the mutated bear. The Yao Guai's head fell apart in a spray of gore, its blood adding to the growing pool.

Walker popped the release switch and checked the clip. "Three shots fired." She drew a combat knife and slid down the hill. "Come on."

Despite the damage caused by the Hollow-Point, the Yao Guai was in fairly good codition, albeit missing its head and a part of its torso. Crouching down, Walker began her grisly work, first cutting open the stomach.

The stomach acid hissed and steamed as it poured out. "Yao Guai are man-eaters," Walker explained, removing a tattered baseball from the beast's stomach. "Occasionally, they eat someone carrying something useful."

Valerie's face was tinged with green as she saw parts of what were undoubtedly human bones, covered in teeth marks.

Walker finished searching the stomach, dropping a handful of caps and two 10mm rounds into a tin can. Next, she began to carve off large sections of meat. Once she had stripped the corpse of all edible meat, she tied what she cut together with a square of fabric and a piece of string and hooked it to her belt. "As radioactive as it is, Yao Guai meat is full of protein and is very expensive. This much meat is enough to buy a new laser rifle."

"Are they that expensive?" Valerie asked, picking up the pace to catch up with the other girl.

Walker shrugged. "They're not that good, it's just that the parts to fix them are so rare. You can often find laser rifles that are almost falling apart, but rarely ones in full condition."

She led Valerie into the ruins of Springvale, and set up a line of cans and bottles on a rotting fence. "Alright, I want you to pull out that rifle and take out those cans. Start by loading five rounds into the chamber."

Valerie nodded, fumbled a bit with the first round, and loaded the rifle.

"This is a Varmint Rifle," Walker said, leaning against a rotting support. "Don't let the name fool you, most pests these days are just as tough as people. It may be a bit clunky, but it's reliable to a fault and uses a common ammo type. Now line up your sights, take a deep breath, and fire with the exhale."

Valerie did as she was told, and pulled the trigger, sending the tin can flying.

"Good work," Walker complimented. "Now try dropping to one knee."

After she had felled all the targets, Walker handed her another five rounds. "Not bad at all. Hold on to that until you find something better. I saw you take down a couple of Mole Rats one-handed with that pistol, so hang on to it as well."

"Are you sure?" Valerie asked, holding the rifle with trepidation.

Walker nodded. "Positive. I've got a big enough arsenal on me as is. Now follow me, if we hurry, we can pick up our payment from Moira and be able to reach the Super-Duper Mart before night falls."

_Saving Progress…_

* * *

Author's Note: Moira is one of my favorite characters in Fallout 3, mostly because she's so incredibly upbeat despite literally living in a hole in the ground. If I could import her to New Vegas, I'm sure she'd get along brilliantly with the Think Tank and Doctor Mobius.

I made Bottle Caps worth much more than in-game for a major reason. Lore states that Caps are backed by water, in the sense that if you have a cap, you can fill a bottle of water and you now have a bottle of water. Thus, it makes zero sense for me to have to pay Moriarty over ten Caps for a bottle of dirty water, which heals less than river water. So, I cut the prices of everything by about 70% (this is a completely arbitrary number that may or may not be a filthy lie).

As a warning before you get too far, this story may/will contain: A warning that states: 'As a warning before you get too far, this story may/will contain: Unnecessary savagery to animals (kill the rabbit), bad jokes, guns, cruelty to children, prostitution, explosive diarrhea, broken characters, sidequests, MechaCthulhu (_Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn_ in space!), robot ghosts, zombie parallels, vampires (Seven! ah-ah-ah!), and Liam Neeson.


	4. Super-Duper Savings: Free Bullets!

The Wasteland Survival Guide:

Super-Duper Savings: Free Bullets!

_Outside the Super-Duper Mart…_

Night had fallen on the Capital Wasteland, the constant grey skies darkening to a midnight blue, leaving the two women with little light to see by. The only source came from several trashcan fires scattered around the parking lot and a Nuka-Cola machine sitting by itself near the door.

Something was hanging by a chain stapled to the roof, barely visible in the firelight. "Raider sign," Walker said darkly, drawing her kukri. "They're all insane monsters. This will be harder than I thought."

"What do you want me to do?" Valerie asked, raising her pistol.

"Follow me as quietly as you can," Walker whispered ghosting across the pavement and up to the doors.

* * *

_Super-Duper Mart…_

Walker stuck her head around the corner, her green eyes glowing in the dark interior of the grocery store. "I see at least five Raiders," she said, ducking back into cover. "There are probably more in the back, which is where the non-perishable foods are. You go to the right and check the cash registers. I'll slip between the shelves and deal with the Raiders. If you're in trouble, don't hesitate to call."

Valerie nodded. "Okay."

Walker crept forward, a brace of throwing knives in her left hand. A Raider reached the end of the shelf she was standing on. Walker's knife flew straight and true, sinking deep into the Raider's neck and dropping her to the floor without so much as a gurgle.

Walker stooped to retrieve her weapon and kept moving, her eyes scanning the shelves for any signs of food or enemies. Reaching the end of the shelves, she spotted three Raiders, two armed with crude melee weapons, but the third held an assault rifle in his arms.

Walker's body was a living weapon, and she could easily kill the two wielding melee weapons in a flash, but that assault rifle would chew through her armor like tinfoil. She would have to go for the gun-wielder first and then set her sights on his companions.

Dashing forwards, Walker threw a knife at one of the Raiders and leapt atop the rifle-carrier, bringing him crashing to the ground alongside his companion.

"Bitch!" he screamed, even as Walker sank the knife deep into his eye. Deftly, she spun around and threw the knife, impacting solidly with the forehead of the third Raider. Retrieving her knives and pocketing the Raider's two full clips of 5.56mm rounds, Walker scaled a shelf and padded along, creeping up behind her next victim.

Walker swore as the Raider spun around just out of arm's reach. They stared at each other for a brief instant before reacting. Walker's knife sliced open his jugular, painting the floor red with a spray of blood. She found several caps inside his pockets and moved on.

Four Raiders stood behind a counter near the back, two wielding hunting rifles and the other carrying .32 pistols. Walker sheathed her throwing knives and drew her ever-faithful 10mm from its holster.

Before she could fire, a shout came from the other side of the store, only to be quickly cut off by the retort of a pistol. It seemed Valerie encountered an enemy. Taking advantage of the Raider's distraction, Walker fired off four shots. Three hit their mark, the fourth was barely dodged by the last Raider.

Screaming, he clambered over the counter and charged forwards, only to be silenced by a fifth shot from Walker. No more sound echoed through the building.

"Are you hurt?" she called out to where the other shot had come from.

"N-No, I'm f-fine," Valerie called back, her voice shaking. It had obviously been the first time she killed another human. "I-I f-found some m-medical supplies, though."

"Good, hold your position and keep looking." Not waiting for a reply, Walker policed the fallen Raiders, recovering three dozen .32 rounds and a near-perfect-condition hunting rifle. Clearing the counter, Walker moved forward to a computer sitting on a small table. The Raiders had obviously been trying to access the security door with no success.

Walker however, was no Raider, and cracked the terminal in five seconds. Inside the door was a small fortune in non-perishable goods, standard medical supplies and, most importantly – in Walker's eyes – a crate full of Nuka-Cola, including two Quantums. There was also an inactive Protectron still in its maintenance pod. A large box filled to the brim with energy cells and their larger counterparts, microfusion cells sat on the counter next to the maintenance pod's terminal, and she loaded several of each into her bag as well.

Loading several bottles of cola, three stimpacks, and four Salisbury steaks into her bag, Walker turned to the maintenance pod and booted up the sturdy robot. An active Protectron like this one would be invaluable to the people of Megaton. "As if the sheriff didn't love me already," she muttered wryly to herself.

Her gaze fell on a section of wall and she stopped dead. A pattern of cracks spread outward from a tiny hole. And among those cracks, she saw letters, words – a message.

_And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. _

Revelation 6:7-8. The last words of some dead soul, another epitaph in a kingdom of ghosts. For Death had indeed paid visit, marking this land as won by conquest. You should go.

She stepped forward, and something bumped her foot. Looking down, she had to stifle a squeak. There was a mini-nuke lying on the floor, gunmetal-green and containing enough firepower to level a house. Cursing her lack of room, Walker removed two bottles of Nuka-Cola and carefully loaded the small-scale nuclear device into her bag.

Relevant or not, this was going in her report.

She froze as a voice called out. "Alright, we're back and – wait… something's not right here…"

Cursing, Walker shut the Protectron back down and slung her new hunting rifle off her back. Ghosting forward, she caught sight of two Raiders prowling along the shelftops.

"Alright you little piece of shit!" one of them sneered. "You're gonna pay for killing off our fucking buddies!"

A pun ran through Walker's head, but she dismissed it. She wasn't one for one-liners. Lining up her sights, she pulled the trigger, _launching_ the head of one of the Raiders clean off, eliciting a scream from the Raider it happened to land on.

Walker dove into the aisles, narrowly avoiding a quick death from assault rifle fire. Palming one of her frag grenades, she threw it up high, bouncing it off the ceiling and into the aisle two over. There was a short scream, followed by the telltale detonation of a grenade, and a wet smacking sound.

Reaching the end of the aisle, Walker rolled over to the nearest cash register and sprang upright, rifle out and searching. Two Raiders remained, both with their backs to the door. She blinked as she saw Valerie poke her head up from the pharmacy.

Walker held up two fingers and dropped them at the same time. Valerie nodded and took aim. Walker held up three fingers and began her countdown.

On three, they both shot up and opened fire. Walker's Raider let out an agonizing shriek as a hole formed in his stomach and he fell over. Valerie's Raider made no sound at all as he dissolved into a pile of ash.

"Nice work," Walker said as they neared each other. As she got close, Walker noticed Valerie was covered in blood and shaking slightly. "Are you okay?" she asked, worried.

Valerie shook her head and threw herself into Walker arms, trembling. "Th-There was so m-much b-blood a-and-" she broke off, burying her face in Walker's shoulder.

"It's okay," Walker said quietly, patting the girl on the back. "It's okay, it's okay. You did nothing wrong."

After Valerie calmed down, they set about to barricading the doors and disposing of the bodies, shoving them into one of the back rooms filled with the Raider's previous captives and blood-soaked beds. The medical supplies were moved from the pharmacy to the back room, and all the food stored in a large crate near the Protectron maintenance pod.

"So what will we do with it all? Valerie asked, leaning down to start a fire from the tiny camp they had made in the pharmacy.

"Store it here for the moment," Walker answered, not looking up from her maintenance of her hunting rifle. "If we lock the door and change the password, we can leave it all there until the sheriff can send a salvage party to bring it back. Raiders might return, but Jericho and Deputy Steele could make short work of them."

"Is it always this bad out here?" Valerie asked, pulling her knees up to her chin and staring into the flames.

"No," Walker said quietly, setting down her rifle. "Back out west, things are safe enough, but the Capital Wasteland got hit hard by the bombs. This was the capital of the entire nation, remember? Where cities out west took some hits, D.C. was almost completely leveled."

"Tell me more about where you come from."

Walker shrugged. "Not sure where I come from. I just drift around, looking for someone who needs help. I've been to the NCR, New Canaan, Old Seattle, even Brahmin Hills. Each place gives me something new, but then I have to move on."

"Why'd you leave?" Valerie asked, staring at her with sadness in her eyes. "Why come out here, where everything is wrong?"

Walker reached into her pocket and withdrew a pendant of a winged sword and three gears. "I'm loosely connected to the Brotherhood of Steel. They're a faction that rose up after the war to protect us from dangerous technology. I joined up with them to help find technology that could benefit the world, but they always seemed more interested in keeping it all to themselves. So, when I heard they needed someone to reconnect with the East Coast Chapter, I jumped at the chance to go out and see more of the world.

"'Course, when I got here, I found out that the Brotherhood had a split – one side wanted to stick to their code, the other wanted to deal with the growing Super Mutant threat. I can't go back without both reports, and Elder Lyons has been dancing around the issue for some time."

"Super Mutants?" Valerie asked, horrified. "Are they real? I thought they were just boogeymen the Overseer made up to scare us."

Walker chuckled darkly. "No, the Super Mutants are real. Back west, they're more likely to ask you for the time, but the ones on the East Coast don't say much more than how they want to kill you."

Valerie went quiet, turning the laser pistol she found over in her hands. The energy cells Walker found had immediately been given to her, giving Valerie over two hundred shots in total.

"You're a damn good shot with that thing," Walker commented. "I can't hit the broad side of a barn with one of those."

"I didn't do much," Valerie said sheepishly, "just adjusted the focusing crystal and tuned the wavelength to narrow the magnetic field to improve the targeting range."

Walker whistled. "That's much better than I could do. I can clean a gun, beat a man into the dirt, and hack a computer but I have no idea what anything you said means. You're really smart."

Valerie blushed and turned away. "It's kinda late. I'm going to go to sleep."

Walker stood and shouldered her hunting rifle. "That's fine. I'm going to do a bit of scouting outside, so stay put."

_Saving Progress…_

* * *

Author's Note: The Super-Duper Mart is always the first sidequest I go on after defusing the nuke. I've done it so many times it's become routine. Enter, sneak around with a pistol and steal all their shit, find food, loot back room, sic Protectron on the rest, shoot everything the robot missed.

So, in my current playthrough, I opted to do something different and gear up with melee weapons and a laser pistol, taking them on from the shelftops and removing heads with a classic baseball bat and a kitchen knife.


	5. On the Waterfront

Following in his Footsteps:

On the Waterfront

_Super-Duper Mart…_

_I... I don't really know how to tell you this. I hope you'll understand, but I know you might be angry. I thought about it for a long time, but in the end I decided it was best for you not to know. So many things could have gone wrong and there's really no telling how the overseer will react when he finds out. It's best if he can blame everything on me. Obviously you already know that I'm gone. It was something I needed to do. You're an adult now. You're ready to be on your own. Maybe someday things will change and we can see each other again. I can't tell you why I left or where I'm going. I don't want you to follow me. God knows life in the vault isn't perfect, but at least you'll be safe. Just knowing that will be enough to keep me going. Goodbye. I love you._

Valerie powered down her Pip-Boy and closed her eyes, trembling. There was a hole in her chest where her father had been, an aching emptiness that ate away at her. She began to cry, clinging to herself. "Daddy…"

Walker lay in her bed, not wanting to disturb the other girl. After listening to Valerie cry to herself for a minute, she rose and lay down next the girl. Valerie paused at her touch. "S-Sorry f-for waking you."

"Don't apologize," Walker whispered, wrapping her arms around her. "It's okay to cry. Cry, but never regret."

"Cast away my fears and never turn back," Valerie sniffled, repeating what Walker had told her.

"Cry, but never regret," Walker repeated.

They lay like that, through the wee hours of the night until the sun's light began to shine through the grimy windows. They ate a meager breakfast of Salisbury steak and shared a bottle of water before setting off.

* * *

_Outside Super-Duper Mart…_

"Shouldn't we cross the river there?" Valerie asked, eyeing the dried section of the riverbed slightly north of their position. She turned to the dilapidated bridge due east of their position. "Or there?"

"Yes, but no," Walker replied offhandedly, heading off down the road to the south. "The D.C. ruins are crawling with Raiders and Super Mutants. It's far safer to stay on this side of the river for as long as possible and cross further up at the Arlington Memorial Bridge. There's a small camp under the bridge on the east end; we should reach it before dark."

They followed the road for a time, taking several turns until they reached a small structure on the waterfront. A sign by the railing read: 'Captain Pagila Dockside Bar & Grill.' Several tables were scattered around the dock, three of them occupied.

Walker tensed as she spotted three figures in charcoal-black combat armor sitting at a table. "Hells."

Valerie reached instinctively for her laser pistol. "What is it?"

"Talon Company," Walker hissed, placing a hand over Valerie's to stop her from drawing her weapon. "Mercenaries with zero morals or ethics. Stay quiet and leave this to me. If we're lucky – and I usually am – they'll give us no trouble."

As they approached, the Talon mercs rose to face them. "Well, well, well," the leader sneered. "If it isn't the 'Walker of the Wastes.' What in the world is you doing here?"

"Same thing as you," Walker retorted, "earning my keep."

"Some high roller put a pretty price on your head, yaknow," the merc leered, brazenly staring at Walker's attractive figure. "He wants you alive for some reason… think you can give me a demonstration?"

"The only demonstration you'll be getting is a step-by-step tutorial on feeding Mirelurks," Walker hissed, drumming a pattern into the handle of her machete.

"Kinky," the merc sniggered. "And what about your pretty friend here, does she do tricks too?"

That was not okay. At all. Seriously. I should kill you for that.

"You boys wouldn't be givin' these two girls trouble, would you?" a dusty old voice asked kindly, sending a shiver down Valerie's spine. Laced within that honeyed tone was enough venom to kill a Radscorpion thrice over.

The mercs went white as a sheet and turned around. "No, Grandma Sparkle," they said in unison.

The white-haired old woman smiled sweetly and patted the exquisitely customized hunting rifle lying innocently on the table, just within arm's reach. "Good, good. I'd hate ta' ask you ta' stop. Now why don't you boys run off an' play."

"Yes Grandma Sparkle," they chorused, bowing and taking off like a Deathclaw was on their tails.

"Those Talon Boys are gonna get thems'lves killed one day," the elderly woman muttered, shaking her head. "So," she said, turning to face Walker and Valerie. "What can ol' Grandma Sparkle do fer you two young ladies?"

"For you, Grandma Sparkle, I have a present," Walker said, holding out the bag of Yao Guai meat.

"Oh my!" Grandma Sparkle exclaimed, raising her hands to her mouth. "You shouldn't have! Hold still now, I'll be back." Taking the slightly dripping bag, she slipped into her house.

Walker sat down at one of the table and turned on the radio, pulling out two bottles of Nuka-Cola and two Salisbury steaks. Valerie pulled up a chair facing her and began to eat as well, listening to the radio.

_Men and ladies, boys and girls, prepare to be astounded, bedazzled, and otherwise stupefied! I am Three Dog, your master of ceremonies! Now listen up, children. Ol' Three Dog's got some fresh news._

_ Not too long ago, I reported that a cat had recently left Vault 101. His name was James, good guy. Turns out, it gets better! I've got a new report here that said someone else had just climbed out of that hole. What the Hell is going on down there? Revolution? Vacation? Somebody fart? Your guess is as good as mine kiddies._

_ And now, some music._

"I heard him earlier," Valerie said, staring at the radio. "He was talking about you. Who is he?"

"He's Three Dog, owner of the only radio station sensible people tune in to," Walker said, shifting in her chair. "GNR is the only secure site in the entire D.C. ruins – barring Underworld, of course. Three Dog sits in that building all day, reporting whatever news reaches his ears. Without him, the Capital Wasteland would be little more than scattered settlements. People tune in to him to hear news from the other towns – and more recently, about me."

"Why? I mean – I don't want to – I'm not saying – don't want to offend-"

Walker cut Valerie off before her foot was digested entirely. "If the only things you heard about me were from Three Dog, I'd be twenty feet tall and lightning would shoot from my ass. I spent some time wander the Capital Wasteland, and acquired a reputation as a hero. Three Dog just made me larger than life. I'm their Ambassador of Peace – their Shield of Hope – their goddamn Messiah."

She sighed and leaned forward, turning off the radio. "They needed a hero, and I fit the bill."

"Wadsworth said something like that earlier," Valerie said quietly.

The shack door banged open, causing Walker to reflexively reach for her knives. Grandma Sparkle bustled out, carrying four bottles filled with a chunky liquid and a bag of caps. "Here you go, girls. Some of my famous Mirelurk Stew. My boys came by just yest'rday with a big haul of softshell meat, so it's nice an' fresh."

"Thanks, Grandma Sparkle," Walker said, stowing the bottles of stew in her bag and pocketing the caps.

"No need to thank me!" Grandma Sparkle called out as they set off down the road. "Don't be such a stranger! Stop by whenever you like!"

When the dock was out of sight, Valerie turned to Walker. "What was that back there?"

"A rule of the Wasteland," Walker replied. "Outside of civilized society, the older you are, the more dangerous you are to have lived that long. Folks like Grandma Sparkle, Herbert Dashwood, and Old Man August are some of the most dangerous people still living today."

"What about you?" Valerie asked curiously. "I saw you clean out that store singlehandedly, you're an incredible person."

"I suppose," Walker mumbled. "All part of the job, yes?"

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she thrust out an arm to halt Valerie. Drawing her sniper rifle, she scanned the road ahead. "Nothing," she whispered.

Valerie sighed and made to holster her pistol. "Just a false alarm."

"Perhaps," Walker said cautiously, shouldering her weapon and drawing her hunting rifle. "That, or whoever was watching us knows how to hide. Keep your pistol drawn."

They pressed on, and soon the sun began to set behind the eternally cloudy sky. The silhouette of the bridge was visible in the distance. "Winter is coming," Walker spoke, staring off at the horizon. "Even the apocalypse can't slow the seasons – subdued as they may be. The Potomac is already too cold to swim and the nights are growing chilly." She sniffed. "It might even snow – and melt into rain before the white clashes with all the brown and grey."

"The Vault never had weather," Valerie said, looking around. "It was stale and dry and the artificial day-night cycle never changed at all. We learned about it, but we never got to see it outside of some old films. Have you ever seen snow?"

"I have," Walker answered. "My trek out here took me over the remains of the Appalachian Mountains with a caravan. One night, we made camp on a cliff overlooking a valley. You could see the lights of a settlement down below on the valley floor. I was taking watch when the snow started falling, lightly drifting down around me like thousands of glittering chips of silver. The wind picked them up and danced them around me like a dust storm in the desert." She chuckled. "When I woke the rest of the group, some of the kids we picked up on the plains panicked, shouting about damnation from God. The New Canaanite missionary traveling with us slapped one of them over the head with his book and told him not to speak blasphemy."

She sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen – the snow, that is. We sat there all night, watching the flakes dance in the firelight."

A whooping cry rang out some ways down the road and gunfire flashed in the twilight, bullets slicing the air around them. Walker dropped to the ground, dragging Valerie with her.

She counted three Raiders approaching in the near-darkness, all armed with hunting rifles, their raucous jeers carrying over the wind. They had obviously intended to use the cover of darkness to ambush the girls, but forgot the undeniable fact that they lacked any means to _see_ them, badly reducing the effectiveness of the ambush into another chance encounter that left Walker short several bullets and plus a variety of common goods.

In summation: Raiders have poor planning skills, and Walker has a night scope. How disappointing.

She lined up her shot and fired, catching the leftmost raider in the shoulder. He screamed and fell backwards, his arm dangling by a bloody strip of flesh.

Lying flat on the ground, Valerie aimed her pistol and fired off a half dozen shots in quick succession. Four went wide, but the light they provided allowed the final two to burn into the remaining Raiders, killing one and injuring the other.

Walker leapt to her feet and sprinted forward, tackling the survivor and slamming her head violently into the broken pavement. The Raider screamed unintelligibly and rammed a knee into Walker's stomach, forcing the black-haired woman off her.

Walker rolled and sprang to her feet, her knives forgotten. The Raider did not have the decency to die immediately, so Walker was going to do things the hard way. Ducking under the scantily-clad woman's clumsy right hook, she seized the Raider's arm and twisted, sweeping a leg underneath her feet. Lifting the leg high, she drove a wicked axe kick into her opponent's midsection, pulverizing her insides.

The Raider coughed up a mouthful of blood and tried to scrabble away. "Aw, com'on, we was just havin' a little fun!"

Walker stared coldly at the bruised and broken woman at her feet. Without a word, she raised the Raider's discarded weapon and brought the butt crashing down on the Raider's head.

Rubbing her injured side, Walker waited for Valerie to catch up.

As slowed to a halt, Valerie's eyes widened and she rushed forwards. "Look out!"

Walker glanced down, just in time to see the familiar pineapple pattern of a frag grenade roll past her, just in time to feel Valerie shove her out of the way, just in time for the explosive to go off, just in time to see Valerie's bloody body crash into the river.

"VAL!"

The Raider Walker had shot earlier laughed, cradling the bloody stump that had been his arm. "Serves you right, bitch. Heh-heh-"

The last noise he ever made was that of his burning corpse striking the cracked pavement.

It had been a long time since _that_ had happened.

_Saving Progress…_


End file.

Fallout, Adventure, Friendship