Fallout 1. The Spotless Mind

((A/n: Let me start off by saying welcome. This isn't my first Fanfic but I will admit that it has been a LONG while since I have written anything. Truth be told, I was pretty good at it at one time. So take my rustiness with a grain of salt. This story is totally worth reading. This is my very first FO fanfic. My posts will vary in length as to the time I have to write them. I don't know much about the Fallout world outside FO3 and NV so bear with me. I'm hoping to add new elements to the story as to intrigue my readers... Please, by all means if you have any questions or feel the need for correction, please do. Reviews make muh day. Enjoy. :))

* * *

_Where they make a desert, they call it peace... - Tacitus_

* * *

Fleeting steps thumped and crunched through the tall Oregon threes with the melody of heavy panting. Through the denseness of a thick fog in aid with the darkness of the night, a single hue of blue fluttered down an empty trail. Two figures ran for their lives as a monstrous screech pierced the silence of the night and echoed through the distance. Fear coursed through their veins at the sound as they continued on, tripping and stumbling through the thick forest underbrush. _Pit pat pit pat _The noise grew louder with every second as the creature grew nearer. Snapping limbs and branches cracked and popped behind. Loud thumps displaced bushes and earth as it muffled their own frantic strides of escape.

"Run, Natasha!", the frantic middle aged fathers whisper would have been scream of desperation if it wasn't for the situation at hand. Sweat dripped from his brow while he clutched an empty rifle close to his heart with a left hand as his right gripped the arm of his little girl. His eyes searched the night for sanctuary, but deep down he knew there was no chance. He'd been careless. Who had known that cutting over the mountain would be so dangerous for the two of them. And even with the heavy gallop and deep growl that followed them, the feeling of regret fell over him. Seattle was so close. He could practically smell its fresh air over the mountain andthe scent was bittersweet.

The young girl, no older than six clung onto a weathered teddy bear that he had given her years before. She stumbled down the inclined hill as her father pulled her along by her wrist. Her whimpers of fear snagged his attention even over the deafening throb in his ears. Mud and dirt mixed with tears making a clean line down each side of her face only to affirm the only way of her survival. And though his thoughts were of Seattle, his heart was for his only childes safety. He took a frantic glance for cover and found a large half fallen tree, half its roots ripped from the ground. It leaned heavy on a group of smaller pines that strained with its weight. In an instant the bearded man changed his his direction towards the fallen tree about thirty yards away. Tears began to swell in his own eyes as he thought of the small girl alone in the forest or how she would survive all on her own. She had no known idea of the outside until days before and she stood no chance against the elements of the wasteland.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the unsettled tree with heavy breathing. In the final moments of what would be his life, he slung the girl into the hole where the tree once stood. He frantically wiped away the tears that slipped down his jaw with his sleeve and gently placed his arms on the fearful child, shushing her to calm. The blue light from his wrist lit up the small girls features. He stared for only a moment recalling the six years that his daughter had been alive. Her birth, first steps, first birthday, her first day of class. He smiled as another tear fell down his cheek.

"I love you, my baby," he said, his voice cracking with overwhelming sorrow, despair clear in his tone, "I want you to stay here and keep quiet. Don't leave this spot until morning. Understand?"

The small girl nodded catching her breath, sniffing her nose as she lowered her cries. As the monstrous mammal approached, so did the man brace himself for death, "Head for Seattle," were his last words for the child.

After giving his child a single kiss on her forehead, he made off into the night. The girl slouched and in shock as the heavy thumps approached closer and weighted. She refrained from crying, digging her face into her stuffed toy. The noise grew closer and closer only feet away from the hidden girl before the sound of tearing bark screeched over her followed by a loud thump and the continuing pitter-patter of large strides in the direction that the man had vanished into the mist...

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_The Earth still holds many __questions. Mysteries of remnants from a world that has long been forgotten. Where terror resides, hell is its ruler. Days go by and the struggle for life and peace grow even harder to hold on to than the days before. And endless fight for tranquility in a world that damns it. This is our world. This is the Wasteland. Tyrants rise and fall and the saints live and die. In this world, the fight for survival is war... And war never changes..._

* * *

_Fourteen years later..._

It was cold and snowing. His brow fluttered as if trying to open his eyes for him, though with no avail. His body was completely limp and in riveting pain from the sensation like his skin being on fire despite the cold temperature of the air. His head felt like it was splitting open, a deep throbbing pounded at the back of his scull. The feeling of the cold wet ground made him give a uncontrolled shiver. At this point he had no choice but to move. Over the course of a few minutes, after some straining moans to move, one of his eyes opened to see a layer of snow blanketing the ground and after a few minutes more so did the other. He first began to move his fingers, once something so simple now was as daunting as lifting tree trunks. But after a few minutes of straining, his arm was pulling himself upright as his other wiped away a layer of snow from his face and clothing, though, there was no way to rid himself of the constant ache boring into his brain.

He was young, no older than twenty three years old. His short brown hair complimented his pale young features. His head hung low as he tried to maintain his upright posture. He first noticed his strange attire, a full body blue and golden jumpsuit. Strange at first seeing how he couldn't remember where he had gotten it, the only indication stitched into the blue dyed leather over the left breast reading "V.224 Engineer – Savage". The lost man looked over to find a simple brown leather satchel, enough to fit a few heavy books into. With a hint of hesitation he carefully outstretched his right arm toward the shoulder strap before yanking it to him before he lost his balance.

Upon opening the bag he found a crude written note clearly ripped from a page of a book or magazine. He looked it over front and back searching for some type of significance before reading the only words worth noting - "Go North". The message made no immediate sense to him, in fact, he didn't know who "he" actually was. He could remember absolutely nothing from before. Try as he may, he couldn't recall any moment from before the instant he became conscious. Feeling a bit frantic and obviously out of place, he continued to search the bag to find any clue on who or where he was. It only took a moment before frustration took over and he dumped the bags contents onto the snow covered ground in front of him.

He found three dispensers that read "stimpak", seven hair pins, two bottles of half frozen water, a metallic cigarette lighter, a .45 caliber revolver, a box of ammunition, a bottle of radaway, and a unmarked holotape. His eyes shifted over the contents as his mind raced with boundless possibilities of his current predicament. Was he knocked out and left there? Was this the after effects of a crazy night of over drinking? Was he abducted by aliens? He took a moment to collect himself as he ran his left hand through his hair. The corner of his eye caught the dim blue light radiating from his wrist as his ears detected its ticking. His face mixed a feeling of earnest and horror as he lowered his arm down in front of him.

It was a metallic object, the words "Pip-boy 4000" carved into the upper left frame of the blue screen next to small counter that read "Radiation Levels". The needle barely moved in the center of the display. The device was light weight but clung tight around his forearm. A few dials and knobs decorated the outside of the screen, making him feel a bit uneasy about the instrument. He looked it over a bit, only to find that there was no release button and the thought dawned on him strangely-it wasn't coming off unless it took his arm with it. After a moment of looking at a blank screen he mustered enough courage to reach for one of the dials on the tool and a few more moments to turn it. A faint buzz made the blue screen feature a series of unpronounceable words followed by the term "Space-time Recall Charge 48%", making a look of inquiry twist his expression.

His green eyes looked from his arm and to the canopy of snow covered forest. The snow fell gently to the earth with no interference of wind or breeze, but the surroundings were completely alien to him. He took a moment to breath slowly stuffing the items back into the leather bag. His legs were moving a bit more and he felt it was time to get to a warmer area before he froze over in the vast woods that surrounded him. Lifting the single strap over his head and placing it over his shoulder, the Engineer readied both his equilibrium as well as his right leg to plant the ground. He slid his leg back and placed the sole of his foot into the snow while steadying himself with his arms and pressing his chest against his knee. With a challenging heave of body weight and a sensation of lightheadedness, he slowly stood to his feet, knees stressing under him.

After knocking away the rest of the snow from his cloths he took yet another look around in hopes to find some sort of land marker to indicate what way north was exactly. Making a half step turn, his eyes found the mouth of a cave that was behind him the entire time. As he looked into the blackness of the cave his head slowly tilted as a mental strain fixed itself through expression. He searched his mind for any reason he would have been there but nothing surfaced. An easy shrug shifted his shoulders before he took and unsteady step in its direction followed by an unexplainable perception of danger that filled his mind. He didn't know why, but he knew not to enter the cave not even for the case of shelter.

A nervous tick found its way into the tip of his fingers as he bit the inside of his lip, assessing the situation at hand. He fought with his thoughts only in vain, his legs would not lead him any closer to the cave. Giving a long played-out sigh, he looked at his boots and then to his Pip-boy before turning the same knob from before once... and then twice to reveal a small map of the nearby area. He noted a small blue arrow pointing Northeast on the map. He took another half turn and realized as he moved so did the indicator. The Engineer gave a nod of comprehension and slowly turned his body to the nearest road, about half a mile to the Southwest, and began a steady pace in that direction.

His eyes took in the scenery as his hands clasped themselves to be shielded from the cold, the sensation of burning now being replaced by the bitterness of the cold air. The trees were all but bare of life, most of them still bearing leaves that caught falling snow from the sky. There was absolute silence throughout the whiteness of the forest that made him quite nervous as he drove father through the thick blankets of snow that were now getting ankle deep and getting deeper. The pounding in the back of his brain only worsened with efforted movements through the white hills until finally the young man stopped and reached into his satchel reaching for a bottle of water. For a reason beyond his understanding he knew that dehydration could cause migraines so he cracked open the plastic bottle top and guzzled down what was not frozen and pressed on.

He finally reached an opening in the forest where the map indicated a road would be and stopped at the edge of the forest line. A moment hung in the air as he debated his next direction. The closest place on the map was an average four miles south from his location at the time while the direction north was dormant and void of any land markers on the map. With his mind made up he made his way onto the road traveling South toward a location known as Portland. His heavy stride followed one another evenly over the snow covered road, leaving behind a steady trail of fresh prints behind, with one thing on his mind—answers.


	2. The Art of Improving Your Luck

The walk was long as it was cold. He'd grown tired of it after the wind picked up. He could only think that he wasn't from the region simply due to a natural adjustment to warmer climates. Or maybe he simply needed a coat. He could care less at the moment. All he knew was that his head was still aching and the feeling from his extremities were fading along with daylight. Shelter would be the only solution to his current plight. He found himself checking his map more often than needed and this time it was no different. The map marker was still two and a half miles away and the city itself even farther. He muffled a few curses under his breath as he came to a slow halt to survey the white landscape around him. Nothing...

Of course, rest was the last thing on his busy mind but it sounded better than freezing in the dark out in the middle of nowhere. And even then, he still didn't know where 'nowhere' was. Mustering the last bit of will he could muster he treaded on down the snow covered road that lay ahead of him, all the while keeping a quick and steady pace both with his feet and his thoughts. _Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left._

His heavy steps ground and crunched the snow under his feet to the point he even focused on them as a beat. Pulling his hands up instinctively under each arm he began to sing a song under his breath.

"_Well, I'm changing all my strings_," his deep voice began followed a quick sniff, "_I'm gonna write another travelin' song, about all the million highways, and the cities at the break of dawn_," his head gently bobbed to the melody in his mind as he continued to sing a little louder, "_I guess all I can do now is pretend that I've done nothing in wrong_," as soon as the verse escaped his lips, the sound of cracking tree limbs sounded out behind him. He turned just fast enough to witness a heap of powder from a broken tree limb hit the ground at its trunk. He paused for a minute reaching for the pistol from his bag, instantly sliding open the chamber to find all six of them loaded and ready. Who ever they could be would surely be crazy or stupid to stalk a man with a loaded weapon, surely. His eyes returned to the area for a brief moment, scanning for any sign of movement or life that would somehow seem like a threat. Though, he doubted anything would be out in this weather other than himself and after a few seconds his nerves were at ease but his body remained alert as he finished the jingle and continued down the road, "_And think about a train that's gonna take me back where I belong_."

Another quarter mile down the snow covered road showed promise. And old run down house stood alone off the side of the road despite the gaping hole in the top of the roof. An old broken picked fence surrounded the front end of the property and the mailbox was still intact. The shack beckoned him and a reluctant smile curved his lips as he hastened his pace toward the old house, a jump in his step. He chuckled aloud as he scaled the small fence with a bound which quickly turned into a grunt as he caught himself on the other side, nearly slipping on a frozen slab of ice. But even with such a close call he regained himself and leaped onto the shacks wood plank porch and without a thought, grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and entered.

The home was dormant, there was not a single sign of dwelling to be seen, only remnants of the owners who lived there before. Family portraits covered in dirt and dust hung crooked on the walls. An old coat hanger stretched across the floor. The couches retained all of their cushions and the rocking chair had even kept its dark wood stained paint. Everything was practically still in the place that it was left. The young man then turned his attention a quite large tree limb jutting out from the ceiling, allowing snow to float gently onto the living room floor. The obvious reason for the giant hole in the roof and the only flaw to the entire structure. There was no use in attempts to fix the roof, he knew it would be only time consuming so he directed his primary thoughts on heat.

His eyes searched the room for basic fuel. The rocking chair would suffice, he thought. Next would be starter. The stuffing in the couches throw pillows would work. He made is way to the chair and, without wavering, threw a left boot directly in the center of the seat, shattering the dry rotted wood into pieces. After gathering what was left of the chair he stacked them accordingly in the fireplace and began to rip open a well decorated pillow from the couch. He stuffed the cotton under a few pieces of wood and reached into his pack and pulled out his metallic lighter. He struck it once. No flame. He struck it again. Nothing. Of course, it would be his luck to have a lighter that doesn't light. His jaw clinch as his anger grew, throwing the lighter across the room and shattering a picture on the wall.

He could only shake his head at the ridiculous situation. His eyes jumped around the room searching for anything that could pull a flame... Until. He quickly reached into the leather satchel and pulled out the box of ammunition. He slid the box open and selected one bullet with two fingers and proceeded to hold the lead end with his teeth and pried the casing away. The end result was gun power. He hunched himself over the firewood and gently sprinkled the resin onto the cotton stuffing before running for his lighter and after a few simple strikes, the fire was lit and warming the room.

About and hour passed and the fire was dying. Night had fallen and he was beginning to get hungry. Seeing how he couldn't remember when the last time he had eaten, he decided to search the home for any signs of food. The kitchen was the natural first choice. He looked in the fridge only to be met with disappointment though the cupboard showed some promise. An untouched can of pork n' beans was found hiding in a corner of a high shelf. He returned to the living room and set the can close to the flame to warm the contents and began to collect limbs from the dead branch in the living room. His luck was improving...

After diner was done he found himself drifting off. Taking a large duster from one of the rooms closets he used it as a blanket as he laid there staring into dancing flames in the fireplace. He had spent much of the time trying to remember anything that would bring light to his nonexistent past. He surely thought the memories would surface but the day had worn on and nothing came to mind... Except the song. He played it through his mind over and over. His conclusion was simply that he knew the song almost by heart, but couldn't recount where he had heard it. But now it was time to rest up for the deay ahead and what ever it had to bring.

* * *

"_You... You bastard!"_

"_The only bastard here is you, boy. You have no idea what lies ahead for this sanctuary!"_

"_I know enough to acknowledge you're a psychopath. These people will never stand for it!"_

"_Oh, they will and so will the rest of the world... __**Start the extraction!... **__Soon you will not exist... And I will live another lifetime!"_

* * *

"NOOO!"

The Engineer sat strait up from a dead sleep. His mind frantic with fear and anger but what for? He turned to find a motionless woman crouched over the fireplace with a thick limb in her hand, her face shadowed by her long red locks that fell to the floor. He glared at the woman as she sat still as stone, her grip tightening around the stick. The man rubbed his eyes to affirm what he was seeing—a half naked woman only covered by animal hide and dirt while feeding the fire. Their eyes locked for a long minute. He dared not make a move afraid she would catch him unprepared. His satchel laid on the floor on the other side of the fireplace. Two feet away from her. His heartbeat grew in his ears as the moments went on. She hadn't moved a single muscle, almost as if he hadn't seen her at all.

Finally, he forced himself to attempt to speak but before he made out a single word she had bolted for the door faster than anything known to him. He jumped to his feet and rushed for the door to watch her vanish into the snow with only her bare feet, "Come back," he yelled out into the cold night, "You're going to freeze out there!" She never turned back but he waited anyway. His eyes shifted through the night for the figure of the woman for hours but there was no signs of life out in the blistering cold night. The man had even waited until morning and still, no evidence of the lone woman. She was gone to simply put it. Then the thought sunk in, _she could have killed you._ But she didn't and that in itself said something to him. Who ever she was, she was following him and the reasons didn't weigh correct with him. Perhaps she knew him? If so she would have spoken to him, at least. The occurrence didn't make sense but then again he had time to dwell on the matter. The sun was rising and he had to make it to Portland before the next night... If he was even alive that long.


	3. The Shop And Go pt I

((A/N: Graphic! Blood, gore, guts... You know. The usual.))

The duster broke the slow, cold winds but didn't do him justice and the falling snow had grown heavier in the air. He had managed to finish off one of the two bottles of water he had set near the fireplace the night before. The second was nearly half frozen already. He had now covered twelve miles all together and was anything but exhausted. A gas station could be seen a few hundred yards down the road. This was a sight to see. The thought of food crossed his mind only to be wiped away quickly as he looked back down to his map once again. His brisk strides crunched the powdered ground below him, eyes fixed on the blue glow of the Pip-boy.

After about an hour after he had parted with the small home, he had mentally overcome his fear of the odd device. For nearly two hours he'd been pushing, switching, prodding, fiddling, and tinkering with most of the design of the machine. By now he had figured what time it was, the display reading 12:37pm, PTZ and despite the hour the clouds were still a pale gray. There was no sign of the sun to be seen. He turned another dial and the screen blipped and buzzed. The neon blue text read "October 24, 2299 A.C.D.". A moment later he turned another switch and pressed a random button. Again, the tube buzzed, revealing another score of word, stopping the man in his tracks as focused eyes scrolled down the screen.

* * *

**VAULT 224 CITIZEN**

**Name:** Richard Fulton Savage IV

**Occupation: **Engineer/Mechanic

**Birth Date:** October 23, 2276 (23)

**Ethnicity: **Caucasian/Native American

**Current Height: **5'10"

**Current Weight: **156 lbs.

**Eye Color: **Green

**Blood type: **AB- (Rh-)

**VITAL SIGNS**

**Status: **Healthy

**Temperature: **97.6 DF

**Blood Pressure: **125/82

**Pulse: **85 BPM

**Respiratory: **43 RPM

**Hydration: **Hydrated

**Ailments: **None

* * *

It was a start. His name was Richard. Well, for all he understood, anyway. He took another long look at the name on his jump suit, a hint of wonder in his eye as he tried to recall the sound of the name. He couldn't remember anything. Nothing. Almost as his brain had been wiped clean of almost every memory he ever had. It's one thing to be unsure of who you are... But to have no idea is a whole different feeling entirely. A name meant nothing to the Engineer and to be honest, the sound of the name made him a bit sick to the stomach. Richard then took a slow, almost unintended step. He tugged the coat tight around his neck while his eyes surveyed the landscape.

A strange feeling not knowing who you really are. Empty. His logic told him that his mind wouldn't allow him to forget family or friends but no matter how deep he thought he couldn't remember a single person. Names escaped him. The thought made a brittle shiver run up his spine. An innate reflex that he quickly noted and restrained it a his neck.

He shook his head for a moment—his mind strained, and then before looking back down to the device as if it held some kind of real truth. Richard reached, turning the dial again. He was met with a screen that was simply titled "NOTES" in bright blue letters. His green eyes slowly shifted below to a word that read "Holotape...". He scrolled down highlighting the word and punched the confirmation button only to be met with a blank screen under the lone word. Smoke billowed from his nostrils as he expired a feeling of aggravation but only for a brief moment. While his mind rushed with thoughts, his left hand dug deep into the leather bag feeling around for the small plastic tape recording.

"Ha," he exclaimed as his hand pulled away from the bag with the cartridge then slipped it into the input cavity—it fit perfectly. After a few seconds the message was playing on its own. The first audible sound of the shattering of glass followed by the sound of struggle. Richard pulled his arm closer as the crashing and smashing grew louder. _Smack smack, _the speaker in the glove of his hand spat. Grunts and fatigued breathing buzzed and cracked through the hissing of the recording while another series of louder smacks followed themselves in order one after another, after another. He could almost see the scene unfold as the commotion had turned into a steady series of thwacks before the sound ended. He could faintly hear the sound of heavy breaths crackle through the speaker getting louder and clearer after a few seconds until finally an exasperated voice spoke.

"_**My... name**_," The male voice said, struggling to regain his breath. Richard listened intently as it continued, "_**Richard Savage the Fourth... I am a citizen of Vault 224... For the better part of years we have been lead to believe that our presence was known by the other Vaults. We are taking part in a highly classified operation that dates back over two hundred years ago, before the war began-.**_"

_**hhrr**_**RRMM!**

The hum of a bullet rang close in his right ear followed by the sound of a distant gun shot only a second behind. Panic was called for at the sound as the man dropped low onto his knees. His eyes scoped the area making out a faint figure of someone through the falling snow, outside of the gas station. Richard charged for the tree line as another bullet zoomed by and connected with a nearby tree. The messaged continued but wasn't clearly heard by Richard as he stomped through the high snow. He slammed his back into the trunk of a tree, taking cover behind the widest of many very thin threes. His hands instantly fumbled at the machine around his wrist.

His voice buzzed louder through the endless family of leafless trees. He could have sworn that he could hear a faint echo from the stick of a tree across from him. His fingers fumbled at the mechanics but only in vain. He gave a glance over his shoulder. There were now three figures scanning through the tree line in his direction. His right hand found the bag and managed to pull the revolver and set it in his lap and then returned back to the stubborn machine.

"_**And the consequences could be dire.**_", the recording continued.

"I hear 'im," one man said aloud to the other pursuers, cocking a double barreled shotgun.

The Engineers mind raced for a solution as his right hand found the gun. Without hesitation, he slammed his right arm into a large pillow of loosened snow. The sound was muffled but still audible by himself. He watched as the hunters quick steps slow as the noise vanished. He took a fearful breath and locked the hammer.

Another loud clap from the gun shot through the air and its bullet piercing the tree he was propped against, "There he is," A dry and raspy voice barked, "Remember!Hit his knees to put him down! Don't kill him!"

With his right hand beginning to shake, Richard beaded the iron between to close trees at one of the still searching men and sounding off a shot. The bullet veered off to the right, piercing a tree and ultimately revealing his location. In return the three strangers shot off a gang of bullets, scattering the snow and trees around him. He let out a cry as a sharp pain shot from his shoulder to his elbow, "SHIT!" He snatched his arm from the snow letting the recording bark out into the woods. Heart beating and arm bleeding, he scrambled to his feet and forced himself deeper into the thicks.

"Get him you idiots," the hoarse tone screamed out.

Richard struggled to flee but the snow was now chest high and bullets were now flying randomly through the trees. Warm blood from the wound dripped down his arm and back. He knew he wasn't going to get far and even then—farther could only mean worse for him. He took a breath and turned around anticipating another bullet to strike his body. As the strangers crossed into the tree line, the man took the last moments of his life listening to the person he once was.

"_**These are the source-codes as they stand," **_the recording continued as the voice tried to yell over the bellowing of metal in the background, "_**Morning Glory Road stop! The Edge of The Moon stop! Gettysburg Harvest stop! And source-code: Denver Is A Lie! Who ever finds this our there. GET this recording to someone important... Deliver this message to a high ranking official. Do not let it fall into the wrong hands. The fate of the world is stake...**_"

The message stopped and then, suddenly, he noticed the fear was gone. In fact he felt quite calm. The pain faded away, now just a faint sting in his shoulder. His heart rate slowed along with his breathing but when the crunch of snow from through the trees were heard a different feeling came over him. A cold scowl complimented the glimmer of spite in his eyes with jaws clenched in his mouth. He didn't feel the same as he did before. As if something the recording had said changed him completely. His right hand gripped the pistol as he slowly lowered himself out of the thick snow and after an instant, he vanished into the trees.

The the three thugs reached a stain of blood in the slow where the injured man once hid. The first was a woman of Asian decent scars covered her arms and the side of her face. As her thin eyes jumped through the trees a large, masked man approached the scene followed by a deformed man who looked to be the leader and his voice confirmed it.

"You lost him," His scratchy voice growled at the others, "he could have fed us for another week or two!"

"Shhh," The woman hissed as her eyes continued to scan the thick trees, "He's still close..."

A silence fell over the three as they all watched through the trees. The only sound heard was the whistle of the wind and the sound of strained breathing. The masked man took notice of the boot prints that led off through the snow. As he began to track, the others slowly followed. One by one they followed the imprints, pressing on through the high snow until it lead them to a tree where the path stopped. The larger man frantically searched upward and checked every single branch to no avail.

"He's gone."

"No he isn't, damn it," the ghoul screeched under his breath, "just keep your fucking eyes peeled."

"We should back track," The woman whispered while her eyes surveyed the trees, "he's probably made it back to the road by now-"

An explosion of icy powder sprang through the air. The three flinched violently as the engineer appeared from the snow instantly sticking the muzzle of the locked and loaded revolver to the ghouls face. He only took a single second to acknowledge the look of surprise fixed on the ghouls face and horror in his eyes. _Ironic, _he thought to himself. _The hunter now the hunted. _He squeezed the trigger and the dumb-stricken ghouls face ceased to exist with a almost beautiful crescendo of red liquid that splattered across the snow white ground. The other two bumbled to aim their rifles only for each of them to meet a gun blast to the head.

Minutes had passed but he just stood there staring at the blood and brain matter that stained the pale ground—entranced. His eyes scanned over the dead that strewn the ground with a feeling of satisfaction hanging in the back of his mind. After a few more minutes his pain came back bringing him back out of the spell. He quickly pulled himself from the deep snow hole and began to rummage through the bodies possessions. He managed to find half a stick of gum and two rifles and a few shells. Complaint escaped him. It didn't take a genius to see that if the hunters were skint—so were the others.

With the slightest movements, his arm would ache more and more. In a flash of what would seem like instinct, he started checking the waists of each of the dead. He came to the headless woman and saw the glimmer of a belt buckle and then began to unraveling from around the corpse. He then proceeded to improvise a sling. A hiss of pain escaped him as he bend his elbow and rotated his left arm to see the map on the Pip-boy screen. He scanned over the scene one last time, pulling one rifle over his neck and then the other. He felt not a single ounce of pity for them. An odd feeling seeing how he had just killed them dead.

The old sign read "Shop and Go. The people's store." He was half way to the gas station with only two thoughts on his mind; food and ammunition. As he saw it. He was hungry and he wouldn't last long without any shells to protect him. The gas station was what seemed to be their base of operations, so there must have been something useful inside. As he grew closer to the run down building, a hacking sound grew louder and louder. A questioned expression crossed his face as he slid over next to the double doors of the fueling station, one of the windows busted out. He slowly rotated his head around the corner. He couldn't see anyone, but a muffled scream could be heard behind the sound of chopping. His hand gripped the handle of the gun tight in his hand before sliding around the corner and through the missing glass doors frame.

He quietly moved through the aisle toward the sound though his eyes searched the floor. Shoes and clothing littered the ground. The feeling of danger had returned as the cries were turning more into a continuous gargle. But after a moment the fear was replaced with action. He drew closer to the register counter. A portion of it was in his view as he came to the end of the isle. His eye rounded the corner to find a naked woman on the counter. Her right arm and her leg were both missing and cauterised. Her right breast had also been removed. A man stood over her striking the exposed bone of the womans other leg with a cleaver. Something clicked in his mind at that very moment. Something terrible deep down inside of him. If this was the way the world was than he didn't know this place before. He didn't exist in it.

Without a moment of thought Richard stood up from behind the shelves and beaded the back of the mans head just as he began to whistle a simple tune while he was working. He pulled the cleaver over his head and let it come down hard on the womans leg. _**Crunch. **_The woman could barely give any sign of pain, letting out a simple and distant moan behind her gag. Richard looked down at the dying woman and saw her eyes slowly shift to meet his. A single tear streamed down to her ear. Richard look back at the back of the butchers head letting his thumb retrieve the hammer with a click.

The cannibals head twitched at the sound before giving a look over his shoulder. A shot boomed and the mans head was gone, leaving his body limp. The cleaver chimed as the body crashed to the floor. He looked over to the dying woman as blood poured from her leg. Her eyes slowly followed him as he drew closer. He examined the womans condition. She was malnourished, filthy and losing blood by the second. A grim feeling came over him as he locked eyes with her for a long while. With what seemed like all the strength she could muster, she nodded at him, signaling to him what had to be done.

One last flash of gunfire could be seen from the road. A few minutes passed and he found himself outside. He looked down the road, south. The shimmer of tall buildings could faintly be seen in the snowy horizon. With the twist of a knob, his Pip-boy screen buzzed on the map. He was about and average ten miles from the city. It was to far for his injured body to finish before nightfall. It was obvious by then that he would have to call in the day early. He turned back down from where he came and drew his eyes to the tree lines. He scanned the tree line for any life. After a moment he honed in on a figure perched in one of the snow covered trees. It was the woman from the night before. His eyes narrowed as he slowly turned his back to her and walked back into the mini market. There was no way of knowing why she was following him but he intended to find out.


	4. The Shop and Go pt II

"_You know what we have to do, Richard. The old man has lost it completely."_

"_I-... I don't know. Maybe its all just a misunderstanding. Those Vaults could be inactive-"_

"_Richard... Do not undervalue the seriousness of the situation. If he follows through with this, do you know what it would mean for topside? The genealogy of the planet would go haywire. They wouldn't stand a chance, Richard. Do you understand that?_

"_I know what it looks like but it can't possibly-"_

"_Richard! Damn it, think for a second! Look at the power this man holds in the palm of his hands! He doesn't care about you or me or any of us. We ARE expendable! It's no surprise! To them we're nothing! We're are mere pawns, Richard. But even WE have the right to make our own choices... We're people too, Rick..."_

* * *

His eyes were heavy. Almost to heavy to open. He struggled to lift his head from the worn office chair and carefully pulled the duster that had draped over him as he tried to sleep the night before. Sleep came and went during the night. He'd find himself waking up in a shuttering pain. Over the night he'd grow more and more tired, but the pain and the cold always kept their presents in the corner of his mind.

He slowly pushed his body forward with a wince. The cloudy daylight sliced through a boarded window and into his face. He was pale and the grogginess made his sight blur. A moment passed as he attempted to shake away the feeling with half results. He patiently stood to his feet without the slightest attempt to stretch. He winced again as the thump of rushing blood rushed to his shoulder and after a few seconds a warm trickle down the back of his shoulder and down to his elbow. He then realized his was losing blood slowly. He lowered his eyes to the metallic desk in front of him. A stimpack laid as a weight on a torn piece of paper that bore black chalk etched into it. He drew the slip closer to read the words again, "Go North".

He shook his head for a moment before remembering the red-headed girl. It was only apparent that she was the one leaving the notes. But what for? Richard looked over the weathered piece of parchment and shook his head. It was to cold to go north and the big reality was that he was slowly losing blood. If he didn't get to a doctor within the next few hours, he was surely a goner. He crushed the paper into a perfect sphere. He held it idly in the palm of his hand giving it a long stare before stuffing it into the jumpsuits pocket. He then reached for his bag, slowly sliding it from the desk by its strap. He gently lifted it over his head and around his neck. He grabbed the spare stimpack and looked at it blankly, still unsure of it properties and shoved it into the bag.

After slinging the two rifles over his shoulder, the engineer began his journey once again. His heels slightly dragged the floor as he made his way to the exit. Eyes avoided the scene around the counter as he stepped over debris that had accumulated over the years. The colder air from outside rushed through the aisles, blowing away whatever grogginess that had been felt before. The snow had stopped and the wind now a more gentle breeze but the gray clouds still lingered over the landscape like a blanket. He paid no mind to it for some reason. Richard couldn't remember the sun anyway... Or much of anything for that matter. But the sun was something he didn't remember more and, though he was unsure of this logic, the idea made itself cozy at the front of his mind—and all the while, blood loss stung at the back of it.

* * *

**PORTLAND – 10 Miles**

* * *

Richards first mile was marvelous. He managed to stay upright the whole stretch. The second mile was equally promising. The rifles slipped from his arm once or twice. Nothing major. But the third mile, yes, it was the third mile that it went down hill—in both senses. He tripped the first time on an unknown pothole about thirty yards in. Pain shot down his arm and up his neck but he made no hesitation to get back up. The fourth mile his eyes grew heavy and his skin growing pale. His hands were growing numb to the wrist. And on the fifth mile Richard found his legs giving out from under him. His sight became blurry as well as his thoughts. The last thing he could remember was his head hitting the snow and a slight flash from impact followed by black.

Some time passed as he laid lifeless in the road. A red stain of snow was starting to bloom around his shoulder. She noted it... With catlike stealth she approached from the tree line, stretching a compound bow its limit. The tool of death bore a crude arrow made of a split piece of wood and cloth that secured a shard of glass inside of it. She aimed it right at the man throat as she lightly stepped through the high snow to the road. Her blue eyes scanned over Richards' limp body before giving a swift kick to the right ribcage. Richard maintained a lifeless limp slack, only giving a nearly inaudible groan to affirm the woman he was, indeed, alive.

She lowered the bow and slid the arrow into a crudely crafted quiver that hung loosely around her waste. After securing the bow around her back, she reached into weathered purse that hung loosely at her hip along side a rusty rifle. She retrieved a neatly woven cotton rope and proceeded to tie one end around the dying mans ankles. She took on the load of the mans bag and rifles stationing the weight evenly over her torso and grabbed the rope tight in her hand before dragging the lifeless man back up the hill and toward the gas station.

* * *

"_What do you mean? So... They just killed them?"_

"_Sounds like the jiff of it. I told you Richard... We have proof now. He's lost it. The people before us knew it and were ultimately killed."_

"_This... This is big, Henry. Just give me a minute to process this-"_

"_Fuck processing! The proof is in the pudding, Ricky! You've had enough time to process. You... I mean we, have to stop him. There's no other option. We can't let him go through with the sync next month_."

"_And how are we going to do that, Henry? You and I both know that would be impossible. There is a whole damn army of us, man! And none of them are going to question his rule!"_

"_... Take this... Its the source codes for the sleepers... Just in case."_

* * *

The first thing Richard recognized through the space of sleep was that he was warm for the first time that he could remember. A good feeling. His mind then turned to the corner of it that held his pain. It was still there but very faint as he noticed the throbbing. He forced open his right eye and then his left. He found himself sitting up on the office desk. He looked scanned the room with a sense of question as his mind tried to remember what happened on the road. He then noticed the missing satchel and rifles. A nervous twitch shown in his eyes as he scanned the office. He shifted his legs and planted them onto the floor just as the sound of movement was heard from the other room.

The woman was fiddling with the lock of a safe that was secured tightly under the battered register. He rounded the corner quietly with eyes fixed on her. There was a fierceness in the womans eyes despite the womans beautiful figure. She was thin, but it was apparent that she was starving. Her unkempt autumn red hair fell to the middle of her back. She was bundled up under layers of both clothing and animal fur. A moment passed before the man quickly cleared his throat, throwing the woman into immediate action. Without a glance. she threw an empty glass bottle that was laying close by at the man, striking him just above the eye. Richard fell back against the wall grasping his face. Before he could resettle himself, Richard found himself pinned against the wall by the redheads forearm. Her left hand pushed his shoulder against the wall, drawing pain from it. He then noticed the kitchen knife directed at his face. He looked at her blankly as her nostrils flared. It was then obvious that she didn't know him. Her blue eyes were wide with intensity as she peered at the man. A moment passed as he forced a swallow down.

"You," She grunted. "You are from down-under ?" Unsure of the right answer, he remained quiet, looking from her and the cutlery, "That thing on your arm. It has a map..." She said, her eyes making the gesture. Richard remained silent as he stared at the woman a bit longer, a bit confused about the situation. Blood was now running down his brow and into his eye, "Who are you?" She asked, putting pressure onto his shoulder that made him wince.

"Richard... My name is Richard," He admitted.

The woman eased pressure, "What were you doing in the forest? Why were you out there?"

He began to explain but the words and thoughts escaped him, "I... Don't know."

"You lie," hissing at the man she drew the blade to his throat.

"No, really," He said pulling his head back against the wall, "I really don't know."

A second passed as her eyes narrowed as she stared into his. Another second passed and she released him all in one movement. She gave a half turn and swiftly walked back and crouched in front of the safe. He looked at her bewildered as she continued on as if nothing had happened. Richard began to take a step before the womans eyes shot at him. He nodded, hands raised as he leaned himself against the counter and shoved his hand into his pocket, "Is this yours," he asked as his attempted to straiten out the crumpled paper with his free hand.

"Yes," her eyes and hands were to busy to give recognition to the object yet she gave the answer anyway.

"Is that why you asked me about the map?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

"What is it that's North?"

Her fist pounded on the safe a few times in aggravation, before she turned to him and stood upright, I don't know."

She passed the mutilated body on the counter as she rounded it, reaching for the mans bag. "Well I'm not going North... I'm going South, to Portland."

"You will die in Old Portland, Richard..." Her words were empty as well as cold. Lifting a stimpack from his bag she followed toward the man. She then began to rotate his Pipboy before finding a receptacle on the bottom side, "These will keep you alive. Whenever you are injured, these will sustain you," she then pressed the needle end into the fitting. The object made a hiss and then the blue liquid drained into the machine. A mixture of numbness followed by a feeling of ease flowed through his body as his heart pumped the liquid through his body. His wound began to tickle—an indication that the area was healing.

"What do you mean die, exactly," Richard asked as she pulled the stimpack away from the Pipboy and let it fall the floor before walking back in front of the counter, "It can't be that bad."

"Yes it can," She said slinging both her purse and rifle over each shoulder, "And it is... It's The Ducks territory."

He gave her a blank expression, "Ducks...?"

"The largest raider gang on this half of the country. They run the whole city. You will either die quickly or very slowly," then slammed his bag into his chest. Before turning to the door.

"Wait," He called out to her as he began to gather his things. She made no attempt to turn around and swiftly walked outside.

He ran outside after her as she paced toward the northern road, "Wait," he called out, dragging his bag and rifles behind him, "I didn't get your name."

She stopped at the edge of the road and jerked herself around, "I didn't give it to you."

"Well," He said coolly as he drew closer, "I have a proposition for you... If you have a moment that is." She looked at him blankly for a moment giving him room to continue. "Is there anyone in charge in the surrounding area? Any... police or army?"

"The NCR," She answered, "Make your point. There is a station in Southeast Portland."

He gave a sigh as he looked over his shoulder, letting his body turn with him, "If you can get me to that station, I, in return, will lead you North."

"No deal," Said flatly. She turned and continued North.

"Listen miss..."

She turned to him again, growing impatient, "Tasha..."

"Tasha," he nodded and continued, "I need help. I... Can't remember what happened to me before two days ago. I have no recollection of how I ended up in the woods. All I know is my name... IF its even my name."

As she stood there thinking she looked him over, "I dunno..."

"Please," he begged, "We can help each other out."

A long silence fell over the two. She stood there looking at him and then over his shoulder at the city in the distance. Richard noticed a hint of fear in her eyes but made no attempt to address it. She looked at him again and gave a stern nod and then pulled the kitchen knife from under her long sleeve, "But if you double cross me, Richard, I will kill you two fold... Understand me?"

"Yes ma'am," he said trying to break her intensity with a broken grin.

Without another word, she started back to Old Oregon, leaving the man in the dust. He struggled with his equipment as he scooted behind. Her paces were fast and oddly enough he could keep up with her at the moment. As he caught up her she gave him an estranged look. He paid no mind to it as they continued on. Richard situated his effects, looking through his satchel counting his belongings. All was there save for two stimpacks and a bobby-pin. She watched his actions with a questioned look of wonder But refrained from speaking. Her eyes looked forward into the distance, occasionally rotating them in his direction. Richard noticed this and genuinely thought to break the ice.

"Something on your mind," the question was plain and casual.

A moment passed before she spoke and with her words was a seriousness that fit her well, "That woman at the fueling station..."

"Yes," he said as his head lowered to his feet as he pictured the womans face in his mind.

"She wasn't dead when you arrived yesterday... Was she?"

"No... No she wasn't..."


	5. Thank you, Richard

_Only the dead have seen the end of war. - Plato_

* * *

Over the course of the day he found his shoulder hurting less and less and by the edge of the day, it was completely healed along with the gash over his eye. Most of the walk was made in silence. He followed the woman with a distance between them. Tasha made gave no intent of speaking to the man. She walked with a nervousness about her. Richard noticed that she flinched at every sound. Of course, she wasn't afraid. In fact, he had taken upon himself to feel sorry for anyone or anything that would perceive themselves a danger. It would also be safe to say that he was a bit afraid to speak to her himself. Even with all of the bewildered looks that Tasha shot his way, it wasn't him that was the strange one.

Night was falling as they approached the frozen Columbian river. A distant smell of smoke lingered in the air as he watched the lights of the city radiate with the sounds of chanting and screaming in the distance. They were about a mile away from the bridge that crossed the river and he finally broke the silence with a simple question. Not the greatest of wanderings but a question at the least. He hesitated before he spoke but his nerve brought it to the surface.

"So," he began, letting a long pause follow as he scratched at the back of his head, "How did you find me?"

"Nearly dead," she said flatly and he nodded. He said nothing else as they continued as he thought she had ended the sad attempts from him. But after a few seconds she spoke again, "That bullet was hell to pry out of you, by-the-way."

"I'm sorry," he said with bit of a chuckle in his words as he looked down at the map on his Pipboy.

She turned and looked him over for a moment before giving a light sigh, "So tell me again why you need to see the damned N.C.R. assholes?"

Richard came to a slow stop as he flipped a dial to his notes and began to play the Holotape once again. Tasha stopped a few feet away looking at him plainly before the sounds of the recording reached her ear. They looked at one another for a long while as the noise in the background played loudly. Her face winced as the sound of fist striking flesh played over and over until finally his voice spoke through the speaker.

"_**My name... Richard Savage the Fourth... I am a citizen of Vault 224 for the better part of 200 years we have been lead to believe that our presence was known by the other Vaults. We are taking part in a highly classified operation that dates back over two hundred years ago, before the war began. It's goal is to observe and collect data from the other existing 122 vaults as well as its inhabitants. It has come to my attention that nearly all of them have either opened or have imploded due to civil unrest or experimental complications. We have collaborated all known data from each one in hopes to rebuild the old world and make a better future for mankind... But we've gone to far and our Overseer has brainwashed most of us living in the Vault. His genius is immeasurable by any standards and with the power that he has obtained over the last 200 years is equally abundant. And the consequences could be dire for most of you living on the surface. There is an army of us under your feet. We are smarter than most of your greatest minds. Most of us are mindless due to biological programming and willing to do unspeakable things. If you are listening to this message, you alone hold the power to prepare for the worst that is to come. (**__sound of pounding metal**) **__**I don't have much time! These are the source-codes as they stand: Morning Glory Road stop! The Edge of The Moon stop! Gettysburg Harvest stop! And source-code: Denver Is A Lie! Who ever finds this our there. GET this recording to someone important... Deliver this message to a high ranking official. Do not let it fall into the wrong hands. The fate of the world is stake..."**_

The man stood looking at her with a stern expression while her eyes shown a seriousness that was just as equal. The feeling was surreal for both parties. After all, it wasn't everyday that the fate of the world was placed in anyones hands. Hell, to her it was barely worth it and he couldn't tell if the catastrophe had occurred already or not. But at the time, there was a deal that was promised and he intended to finish his quest. Through hell or high water, he was going to find out what had happened to his memories. But as for now he'd have to make due with what he had.

"Why are you going north? What is it that's up there anyway?"

Her eyes met her boots for a moment as if in memory. He noted this before she looked back to the glow of the city, "Seattle..."

"What's Seattle," he asked simply.

"Seattle is a place," her tone was flat and expressionless.

Richard waited a moment trying to give her time to explain but she made no endeavor to try. He lifted his Pipboy and brought up the map, typing in the word 'Seattle'. He noted the distance from the current location and without thinking about the question he asked, "So what's in Seattle?"

"I don't know, okay," Tasha exploded with wrath as she drew close to his face, Richard noting the fierceness in her eyes yet again, "I already told you I didn't know! Why don't you mind your own fucking business and keep your mouth shut! If you speak again, I swear to you, I will blow your pretty fucking head OFF! Got me?!"

Richard stared at the woman, eyes furrowed in offense but her blue eyes never broke his gaze. Richard shoved passed the woman and began pacing at a quicker speed than before. His jaw clenched at the idea of the woman all together. She lingered behind before he was nearly a hundred yards ahead of her. Tasha never complained... Not once. Richard steadily walked the center of the road until he reached the bridge.

"Stop," Tasha yelled from behind, jogging her way to the man. The large bridge stretched for over the river, though the river had all but dried up completely, "We can't go across the bridge."

"And why the hell not," Richard spat.

The redheads eyes shot from the bridge to the vault dweller as she leaned her weight to one leg, "Because, jackass, it's crawling with raider and bandits. Halfway across, we're both dead and I'm not dying tonight because YOU'RE in a damned hurry... You told me to get you there and that's what I'm gonna do..."

His left hand gripped his hip while his right rubbed his frontal lobe in aggravation, "Then what do you suppose we do?"

"Well," She said coolly as she gave a look around, "We cross the river."

"What? How in the hell are we going to-"

"The river is frozen over. If we walk across it'll save us the hassle of raiders. Trust me."

Richard looked at the woman wide eyed only to be met with a single wink that complimented a smirk of arrogance. He shook his head slightly and started off behind the redhead who was already making her way down an embankment that lead to the shore. Most of the river was dried up from the looks of the old water level that was read on a sign that was posted a few yards away from the bridge. They both kept a steady pace over the loose snow and sand that once was the rivers bed. They finally reached a stream of ice that was about a hundred yards across to the other side. An uneasy feeling came over the man as he looked over to Tasha who reluctantly gestured him to go first.

"Really," he said unamused.

She said nothing as that arrogant grin curved her lips once again and took a step into the ice followed by another and then another. Richard watched as the woman carelessly made her way to the center of the river with no fear. But her fearlessness would vanish after a large snapping sound traveled through the ice. Tasha stopped in her tracks lifting her arms in a feeble attempt to lighten herself.

"Richard," a worried tone was expressed as she called for the man.

Frantic, he looked from the ice and to the woman, "Don't make any sudden movements! Can you see the crack?!"

"No," she replied her eyes scanning the ice. Another large crackling sound was heard again, this time making the woman panic. She took one step and then another.

"No! Tasha! Don't move," his words were in vain. All at once, the woman dropped into the water.

Immediately the violent flow of the river tried to pull her under as her hands clung tightly to the ice layer. Richard rushed across the ice at full speed before dropping to his knees and sliding to the hole. The womans head was completely submerged under the water as he made attempts to grab her hands. He finally managed to grasp one and gave a sliding heave. Her head billowed from the water, gasping for air.

"Richard," She managed to get out for slipping back into the water. Richard gave another pull of her arm and brought her back up, "Help me, Richard!"

"I'm trying," he said under his breath as he focused on the situation. He reached for her other hand and made the attempt to pull her out, but the ice under his boots let him slide down with her.

The water thrashed them around under its surface. Tasha's arms clung tight to the man as he tried to maintain which way was up. His fingers grazed the ceiling of ice for only a moment before being pulled under by the flow of water. Swimming was futile due to both the current and the womans grasp around his waste. She began to squeeze air out of his lungs. The moment seemed hopeless. Richard forced his left arm to his face and instantly began flipping switches and pressing buttons randomly on his Pipboy. He was just beginning to grow lightheaded before a screen blipped on, reading "Space-time Recall 100%." In last hopes of living he hit the 'initiate' command just as he had wished he'd taken the bridge.

Almost instantly, the current slowed around him and over what felt like a few second, it stopped completely... In fact, everything did. A warm sensation traveled through his body which grew into an intense heat that burned his very core. A second passed and he was surrounded by radiating light that flowed through him. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't for the fire traveling throughout his body. As the multitude of colors grew brighter and brighter he was afraid that he had died. But this was anything but the case.

They appeared in mid air and landed hard on the ground, a large splash of water falling down with them. They were at the edge of the bridge. Both parties laid motionless as they groaned from the pit of their stomachs. They laid there for a long while, Tasha still hugging the mans waste. Needless to say, he had figured out where his migraine had come from. Their bodies felt like they were burning from the inside out. After a few minutes Richard forced himself over onto his side and stood to his feet, his knees weak. He lowered his hand to the woman who made no attempt to move. She just stared at him. It wasn't a bewildering stare, or even a aggravated look.

"You... Saved me," she said trying to catch her breath.

"Well now we're even," He said exasperated, reaching for her arm and pulling her up, "Now I'm cold, tired, and hungry." Her limp legs tried to stand but failed to keep locked. Richard pulled her arm over his shoulder and walked her along, "So where do we go now?"

"Under the bridge... We'll camp there."

* * *

The fire crackled as they sat there without a word. Richard laid his head on a river rock, his damp coat draped over his freezing body. He tried to sleep but his shivering made it impossible. He had laid there for about an hour wishing for sleep only for it to evade him. His lips had turned to a pale shade of purple and he hadn't eat anything for the day. In the depths of his mind, he kind of wished he died down there under the ice.

Tasha sat close by, her knees pulled close to her chest. She had stripped herself of most layers of clothing and set them aside to dry by the fire-something she usually did at the end of the day. She watched as the man shivered under his coat. She reached for her drenched purse and emptied the contents out in front of her one of them being a drenched stuffed bear. It was old and weathered. She had managed to hold onto it for years and it was the most valued object in her life. A wholesome smile curved her kiss as memories rushed, letting a tear gently stream down her face. She set it neatly next to the fire to dry out and letting her attention turned to Richard, who managed to turn his body over toward the fire, still shuttering.

"That coat," she said scooting closer to him and pulling it away, "It has to go." She then placed the jacket with the other clothing as to dry it by the fire.

"But I'm... freezing," he said between jagged breaths.

Tasha placed a palm gently onto his head. His temperature had risen enough to know he was catching hypothermia. The woman turned to a pile of wood and placed a few large broken branches onto it before moving herself over behind the man.

"What are you doing," he asked as she began to to lay down, conforming her body to his.

"Hush," she demanded as she casually slid an arm under his and tightened it around his chest. She pulled herself closer until her body was completely cupped with his, "I'm keeping you warm."

"Don't you think... This is a little unorthodox?"

"What's orthodox about freezing," she returned with a simple tone.

"Good point..."

A silence fell over the two for a brief moment. The fire cracked and popped. Richards shaking was fading as his body grew warmer. Tashas head laid gently on her free arm. She tried to force her eyes closed but a thought chewed at her brain. She perched her head into her palm as she looked over the man, "Why'd you save me?"

Richards eyes remained closed while his brows rose a bit at the question, "You saved me before."

Tasha face contorted, "I just needed that map..."

"Well," he said before taking a deep breath and exhaling with his words, "I needed a guide... Besides, you said you'd get me there... And that's what your going to do... You would have done the same, I'm sure."

Tashas expression dimmed at his words. She honestly didn't know if she would have or not. The Wastes don't have much room for heroes and she knew this well. But then again... He wasn't from the Wasteland which made her think that he could have been the next best thing, "You have to be careful with who you trust, Richard... Not all people up here can be trusted. Remember that."

He adjusted his arm under his head a bit, "I'll keep a mental note," he said, slowly drifting off into slumber.

The woman was left looking down at the man that carelessly risked his life to save hers. She had only met one other person like that in her whole life, but his sacrifice had cost him his life. As she drifted into memories, Richard shuttered a bit, bringing her back to the present. She continued to look him over before leaning over and giving a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Richard."


	6. Merry Jade And The Ducks

((A/N: Sorry guys... Been pretty busy lately. Heres the new chapter. Hope you enjoy it.))

"_You modified a Pip-boy, Richard?"_

"_Psh, yeah.."_

"_... Seriously..."_

"_Yes... Yes, Henry! Ha! And made it better."_

"_How?"_

"_... A stimpack, a plasma igniter, uumm, a micro-conductor, a few random programs, and a WHOLE lot-ah sodder."_

"_How did you get it from your arm?"_

"_Well, that's the thing, I don't know. I linked it to a computer and ran through a few hours of code and finally, I broke one for the releasing mechan-" _

"_Wait wait wait... ''Micro-conductor''... What's that for? I remember a closed project a few years back-."_

"_Yeah... The teleportation device. Well, when they scrapped it, they left me to clean up and break down as usual, right? So... I kinda misplaced it... and recycled everything else, normally."_

"_Richard... People died... People were embedded in the wall-"_

"_Guy, get real... I knew why and what to fix. It was a simple flaw in ''forced displacement'' You can be confined in a unopened shell if your going to freely displace yourself. A modification had to be made... A simple one at that... Plasma."_

"_You are a crazy fuck-"_

"_PLASMA has the only energy wave length that can sustain a wormhole long enough to move one thing to another... And remember the gold bricks?"_

"_Yeah..."_

"_Not one of them ever popped up in a wall, did they?"_

"_... No..."_

"_Upon placement, gold...''hazes'' gravities effects... The other problem was the control of the project in general. You have to know where you are going in order to walk to the precise location, correct?. The subjects had no idea what they were doing, what the lab techs were doing, or even where they were being sent to... The trick is seeing the place in your mind, as if you were there at the very moment. This gives the Pip-boy its accuracy... It doesn't work if you can't imagine the place in your head."_

"_So you've actually tested it..."_

"_... The feeling hurts like hell... It worked the first seven times."_

"_SEVEN times, Richard!?"_

"_SHH! Yes! I'm tired of riding the lift, Henry..."_

"_No other side effects?"_

"_No, but there is one thing... Somehow... I always end up one second in the past... A paradox, I'm assuming..."_

"_Well, just don't let anyone else know about this... I can't afford to bail you out again."_

"_Oh, lighten up. I don't use it unless I feel a restless need. I haven't changed the shell of it. You __**see **__no physical modifications. __The magic is all inside. Besides I haven't worked out all the kinks yet. I'm already working on a finalized version..."_

"_...What in the hell is wrong with you?"_

"_Ha!... I dunno... defected I guess..."_

* * *

"Wake up," Tasha said, nudging the sleeping man in his ribcage with the tip of her boot, "It's morning..."

Richard opened his eyes just as a brisk wind passed over him.

"Wide awake," he muttered under his breath. The engineer recognized the aches in his body as he struggled to stand. He took a moment to rub his eyes and then observe the landscape. A thick snowfall fell gently around the large bridge. This obscured the sight of structures off the opposite riverbank. "Does this place ever see daylight?," He asked as Tasha lifted his dry coat to him.

"Some days, in the spring. The summer months are the worst." she replied simply, "It will stay that way for sometimes weeks and melt all of the snow. This leads to floods in certain areas." She lifted her rifle over her shoulder before turning to observe the current conditions. "This river can rage for days and then the sun will dry all of it up. Many people often die."

Richard stared at the woman perplexed, "... Good to know," he said slipping on his duster. He glanced down at his Pip-boy, the time reading **''8:47 A.M''**. He took a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes and began to gather his things.

Tasha leaned on one leg as she observed the landscape, "We should be there by sundown—giving that we don't run into any trouble." She turned to him with a almost troubled expression in which he recognized immediately but retained his wonder.

"Then lets get moving," Richard said making his way to the river.

"How are we going to cross," Tasha yelled out in his direction.

"Very, very carefully," the engineer said as he continued for the frozen river and the woman following behind. "The trick is to distribute your weight evenly." Richard slipped his bag from his shoulder and began to tie it to his ankle along with one of his rifles.

Tasha watched the man before imitating his idea. "You're sure this will work?"

"Nope," Richard said plainly before gently lowering his chest to the ice and started to pull himself along with his hands and elbows, "So if by any chance I die... It was nice knowing you."

"The pleasure was all mine," she said, a slight giggle breaking through her words that made the man struggle to look at the woman who quickly wiped away a smirk.

"Wait until I get halfway across to follow. And remember to keep your weight even."

* * *

An hour passed and they were well into the city of Portland. The streets were littered with trash and old automobiles. Many of the buildings were still intact and covered in snow while pillars of gray smoke rose high into the sky. The streets were silent. Much quieter than the night before. But as the buildings passed by, the two were lost in conversation.

"I found you out there in the forest," Tasha said, "I thought you were dead so I began to scavenge whatever you had and realized that you were alive... And you were from down-under."

"Down-under," Richard asked as he situated his satchel on his shoulder, "You mean..."

"You're from a Vault. The Old World leaders made them to save people from The Great Fall... I've heard stories, but they say that fire fell from the skies."

Richard rubbed his head in pain. Not a single memory came to mind, only to give him sharp pains with each effort, "I can't remember a thing. I don't know why..."

"Here,"she said as she stopped and reached into her purse.

Richard watched the woman retrieve an old wooden pipe followed by a tin mint container and a metallic lighter. Tasha took a few more steps before setting the items onto the hood of an old and rusty convertible. She gently pried the tin open to reveal a almost neon-colored substance. The redheaded woman then proceeded to take a pinch of the small kernels and began to pack it into the pipe. He watched with a cocked prow when she lit it on fire and took a deep inhale. Tasha copied the expression while she passed it to him.

"What is it," he asked making no attempts to follow through.

"It's an herb," She said as she exhaled. Her eyes closed for a moment as a slight smirk crossed her kiss. "It'll take the stress away. Probably help you remember." He looked at the old pipe for a long moment before she gestured for him to take it, "It's fine, Richard. It wont kill you, I promise."

He reluctantly reached for the pipe and lifted the stem to his lips and took a long drag and inhaled the bitter smoke into his lungs. As he released his lungs, a strange feeling of light-headedness came over him that slowly turned into a feeling of euphoria. He tried to shake the feeling but it only made it worse. Tasha began to giggle at the man and in return, he laughed back. He took another puff and inhaled before giving the pipe back to the woman. Tasha by now had retrieved a flask from her purse as she grabbed the pipe. She also took another puff and chased it with a shot from her flask and returned the contents back into her purse... All except for the smoking utensil.

"So how is it," Tasha asked with a grin, taking another pull from the pipe.

Richard looked off into the distance. "Strange," he said as he turned to her with a unintended smile, "What is it?"

"I already told you," She said between chuckles, "It's an herb. Merry Jade. You've never had Merry Jade ?"

"I don't know... Why would I have?"

"Well, I knew a under dweller once before. She was quite fond of Merry Jade. Her name was Eunice She escaped from Vault 62, north of Vancouver. She told me that they were experimenting with something called a Neuro-Link. She said it was a device that took the thoughts of a person and put them into others. Eunice was a doctor of the mind and over time realized that people weren't who they would be the day before. She also said the more the tests were given to people, they tended to lose portions of memories and would ultimately lose their sense of humanity... Maybe that's what happened to you..."

"I don't know," Richard said looking at his boots. Then something caught his attention. It made him stop and he slowly looked over his shoulder to see four men with assault rifles pointed at them. He noted the faded outline of ducks on their strange green and gold uniforms. His heart began to race before he turned back to Tasha who had also stopped in her tracks. They watched as members of the gang walked out into the street with guns, hocky sticks, and razor knives ready in hands. Richard scanned over them. _Eighteen._

"Say it isn't so," a voice exclaimed from a nearby rooftop, "We have double prizes!" There stood a woman who had seen better days. Her black hair was peppered with snow. Richard noted the scars that covered her face. She wielded a large shotgun over her shoulder and wore crude, rusted armor. A smirk curved her lips as she loomed over the scene. "If it isn't Miss Evergreen. And who's your friend there? A Vault dweller, eh? Duffy is gonna shit a brick."

"Tasha," Richard growled under his breath, hesitating as to whether he should reach for his pistol, "what's going on?"

"It's Stella and the Ducks," She said as her eyes shifted from one person to the next.

"Okay, I understand that..."

"They've put a bounty on my head."

"Shit..."

"Alright, boys," the scarred woman exclaimed through the ranks, "bag 'em up! Duffy's gonna be happy about this."

"Wait a minute," Richard threw up his hands, "Can't we just talk about this-"

Stella pulled the shotgun from her shoulder and pointed it at the two. "Drop your things or I'm dropping you."

Tasha began to panic, but the fire in her eyes retained her fear. "I'm not going back there, Richard. I'll die before I go back to that place." She looked down at his Pip-boy, "Can't you just take us somewhere else?"

"Tasha, look at me." The woman turned to meet the deep gaze from the man who gently placed his hands on her shoulders, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. We will get out of this, mark my words. But right now, we haven't much of a choice in the matter." Richard first looked down at his Pip-boy and scanned through the controls until he read the words "**Space-time Recall 83%**". He took a deep breath before he looked up at the woman and narrowed his eyes. "I'm here for her bounty!"

"Bullshit," the woman returned, "If that was the case, you would be dead miles from where you both came from!"

Richard looked to Tasha whose eyes were scanning the crowd of looters, "Just calm down... Do as they say... And I promise you we will get out of here..."

Tasha stopped and turned to the man before he noted a tear swelling in her eye behind a grimacing stare. He gave her a reluctant nod as he dropped his satchel and his spare rifle and threw up his hands. Tasha swung her rifle from one Duck to another.

"Tasha," Richard cooed. She looked at him, the tear now falling down her cheek, "Trust me..."

A long pause filled the air before she dropped her things next to Richards and slowly drew her hands into the air, "I trust you, Richard..."

"Alright, boys," Stella exclaimed, "Lets get these fuckers back to Duffy! We gotta bounty to split!"


	7. The Inquiry

The long trek into the bowels of the city was daunting as well as degrading. Hands bound and feet shackled, our two travelers pressed on, barrels at their backs. Tasha and Richard were well separated between the band of goons. Stella lead the pack followed by Tasha and the majority of Duckmen while Richard and his female escorts trailed at the end of the parade. The women pushed and shoved him at any moment given the chance. Ahead, Tasha was the main concern, though, hardly taken as a threat among the ranks.

Each man took their turn groping and fondling the powerless woman despite her refusal. With every vulgar gesture the men of the gang would roar into a crescendo of laughter in a perfect unison. Richard watched disgusted while one by one they would rip off layers of clothing from her frail body. His teeth clinched as she shook from the cold while they paid no mind. She has saved his life more than once and his heart demanded action, yet his mind knew the situation was far beyond the current call for disruption... For the time being, anyway.

The cogs in his mind churned for a solution toward freedom. He then noted a narrow alleyway about ten yards the the left of him that would be the ideal way of escape—if there was any to escape. But even then, there was no way of knowing where their belongings were nor a way to retrieve them. Richards eyes scanned through the crowd to the caretaker of their thing until his eyes fell on a scaving Stella who was by now rummaging through his satchel. It was then that he realized that the situation at hand was an impossible one.

The engineers mind raced with every second in possibilities of escape. A nervous tick arose in the back of his mind while he watched the mercenary plunder through his bag. The feeling of stress built as aggravation rose. He couldn't escape via Pip-boy due to the binding of his hands behind his back. His jaw tightened again as one of his escorts shoved him in the same direction he was heading, clearly for no reason. He noted the tingling in his fingers from the lack of blood flow. He cringed at the sound of booming laughter from the males of the group... Slowly, an anger grew inside of him that filtered its way to the bone all while he forced himself to maintain composure. But, alas, it was the sigh of on of the men drawing the muzzle of their gun between Tashas legs that would be the capping point.

"Stop it," the woman cried out, jerking herself away from the grasp of one of the men.

He could stay quiet no longer...

Richard halted his steps all at once, making one of the females bump into his back and stopping the end section of the convoy. The two women looked at the man perplexed as one of them poked the barrel of their rifles deeper into his back before giving him a hard shove. The engineer didn't move an inch. It only took a moment for the rest of the gang to notice the stragglers and caused the parade to stop all together.

"What's going on back there," Stella said, pushing passed the thick of the crowd, gun firm in hand.

"It looks like his legs stopped working, Stell," one of the escorts chuckled as the other gave him another stiff shove from behind.

"Well, make 'em work," Stella demanded before turning back to the front of the group.

Richard noted the giggle from one of the women behind him as his eyes narrowed onto a male ghoul who was slowly approaching. The man kept his head low and wits keen, all the while the darkness growing in the back of his mind like a thick fog of hatred and malice. As the humanoid closed in so did the madness bloom in Richards mind. He flexed his fists behind his back, in wait. At the moment, there was no plan. Anger clouded judgment while spite fueled it.

A raspy chuckle escaped from the radiated man as he stopped only inches away from the engineer. Without warning, he snatched at Richards right arm and gave it a firm yank in hopes of intimidation. "Get to moving, mole rat-"

His words would be cut off by a swift movement as Richard threw his forehead hard into the tender nose of the ghoul with a loud _**crunch**_. Without missing a beat, Richard forced his head into reverse, meeting one of the females faces with the back of his head. All in one swift movement the man threw his weight forward and charged the cringing ghoul. His right shoulder slammed into his abdomen before they both crashed into the crowd of Ducks.

The tussle quickly turned into a beating. Tasha watched as the gang threw fists and feet at the man. He tried to maintain some sort of defense but it was no use. His uncovered face met fist and feet alike over and over until a voice sounded out.

"Back away, now," Stella said shoving the men away, "If you kill 'im, Duffy will have **all** of your heads!" As the Ducks dispersed, Stella was left, looming over the man who struggled to stand to his feet. Her hands gripped the gun tight in her hands. "Think you're tough, do you?"

Richards eyes made their way through the crowd and to Tasha, recognizing the worry in her own. He could feel the blood running from his nose as well as his lip before trailing to the tip of his chin. He promised her he'd get her out of the situation and though he couldn't remember the last time he had made one—he didn't like breaking oaths. He rolled his sight back to Stella who stood over him with a cocky smirk. Richard noticed the gun tightening in her hands before she raised it high into the air and letting it clap hard across his head, knocking him out cold.

* * *

"_Well, finally, after two hundred and twenty one years of steady progress, Vault 59 has now gone inactive."_

"_Lucky them..."_

"_Now, now, Richard. Where is our respect for the fellow Vault dwellers? If it wasn't for the other Vaults great sacrifices the new world could never bloom... Or even be established correctly."_

"_Yes, Overseer..."_

"_You are a smart lad, Richard. Surpassing all others in both mental and physical aspects. You are one of a kind. You must act like it. After all... You were chosen for the Sync."_

"_Yes, Overseer..."_

"_What my subjects must understand is the meaning of diligence. We must be patient if we are to rebuild the world to exceed its former self. Only then will our efforts in our endeavors bring pure results and true satisfaction... You will see.."_

"_Yes, Overseer... But if you don't mind me asking..."_

"_Yes, Richard?"_

"_How do we even know if the surface is truly repairable? What if we fail? What if they wage war against our cause?"_

"_Oh, Richard, my boy... We will __**not**__ fail..."_

* * *

His eyes shot open as the freezing water draped over him all at once. He found himself in a large room lined with long rows of benches and a podium at the head of the room. A crest decorated the tall desk reading, 'Portland City Court' behind graffiti baring two intersecting hockey sticks in both gold and green spray paint. He shifted his open eye across the room while he forced himself to his knees. Though his left eye was nearly swollen shut completely, he knew that Tasha was nowhere in the room. His mind filled with chaos and regret. He was sure that he had failed the woman.

"Greetings from the over-world!" A hoarse voice chuckled from above him, "How do you like it so far?"

Richard reluctantly rose his angered gaze to a man who smiled wide at him. Patches of skin and facial hair were missing among his expression. He noted a glimmer of anticipation in the pale eyes of the stranger and almost seemed a bit harmless but Richard knew better than to take a smile as good nature. The half-ghoul bore a shining silver hockey stick in his left hand and wore a green and golden jersey topped with a golden sports helmet decorated with diamonds and jewels. A strange character indeed.

"C-A-N Y-O-U S-P-E-A-K E-N-G-L-I-S-H?" His words were loud as well as understood.

The engineers eyes trailed off, "Idiot," he said under his breath, just shy of reaching the strangers ears.

"AhHA! So it _does_ speak," he said with an enthusiasm that would surely kill and elephant, "Tell me; is it true that you people drink fresh water? No! Wait! What is the food like? I bet the women are lookers down there, am I right? Do you have a king? What's he like-"

"Excuse me," Richard began. His words were firm and clear, "Um, but who in the hell are you again?"

The mans expression turned of that of ecstatic to a prideful visage. He clapped the hockey stick hard onto the floor before he spoke, "Why, I am Duffy Duckson – King of Old Portland. And you are?"

"Where is the girl-"

"I AM ASKING THE QUESTIONS HERE," the king boomed making an echo ring through the old courtroom.

Richard gave a sigh as his eye rolled over to a quite amused Stella who watched the scene from a empty corner puffing on a pipe. His eye then focused to notice it was the same pipe that he and Tasha had been smoking from only hours before. His hands clenched behind his back as he shook his head before meeting a now red faced Duffy.

"I have made my introduction," the king said maintaining himself. "Now who are you?"

Richard looked to the floor while he cleared his throat, "They call me the Engineer..."

"What is an En-gin-eer," Duffy asked with a questioned expression, "Oh! Are _you _a king?"

"Hardly..."

"Hardly what," the king asked before glancing around the room of onlookers, "You talk strange, En-gin-eer..."

And that was when he realized that the king wasn't the brightest of apples. In fact, Richard was starting to question his right of 'rule' over the city. It must have been by mistake or involved miraculous luck on his part.

"Duffy," Richard began.

"KING," he boomed in correction.

"_King_ Duffy," Richard continued coolly, "I just want to know what's happened to my guide, the one you all know as Tasha Evergreen."

"Oh, the slave girl," Duffy chuckled, "She is to be executed at dusk..."

Richard followed the words with intent. It was clear that it was not yet dusk and she was not yet dead. It was then that he knew he'd have to devise a plan fast.

"And you will be sent to the arena to battle the Skookum," King Duffy said simply causing the crowded room to boom with cheers of amusement, leaving him to bask in the glory given to him.

Richards mind rushed for ideas while his hands struggled with the rope bindings around his wrists, to no avail. As the cheering dissipated, a spark triggered in his head. He looked back to the boastful king, holding back a grin. Duffy wasn't the smartest of fellows and Richard intended to put this fact to test. The plan was, at this point, anything but fullproof but a plan none-the-less.

"Duffy, King of Old Portland. Lord of the strong and the meek. Ruler of both the good and wicked, alike. May I inquire you in a deal?"

A long pause filled the room as the half-ghoul gave yet another look of question, "What does 'inquire' mean? If you wish to make a deal, then just say so."

"Right," Richard gave a simple nod before he continued with his lie, "As the Engineer from 'down-under', I wish to propo-... I mean make a binding deal for the lives of both myself and miss Evergreen. In return, I will lead you and your kinsman to the Vault from where I... Hail..."

Duffy took a moment to think. His index finger found itself tapping the tip of his chin before he sat back in his chair, "No deal," he said flatly, "You see... The woman is of great... Value to us." The men in the room chuckled out loud at the comment as a smirk broke across the deformed face of King Duffy.

Richard instantly countered, "So you would choose one beautiful woman over thousands of beautiful women? Well, if that's the case then..."

"He lies..." a male voice hissed amongst the crowd behind him.

"Oh, I assure you, I am not," Richard returned over his shoulder, his words firm and confident, "And they are beautiful. We are all beautiful underground due to careful breeding and healthy lifestyles... Though..." Richard turned away in a shy matter.

"Well... Go on! What is it," Duffy demanded wide eyed at the man.

"It's just... Down-under, women outnumber men four to one. Most of them have yet to even feel the touch of a man and most of them die of loneliness well before their time..."

Duffy stared intently at the Engineer as he spoke and Richard could tell he had just sparked an interest with not only the king but with the rest of the Ducks male populace.

"And why should I spare the girl? Who is she to you?"

"As I've said before, she's simply my guide. I have yet to grow accustom to the surface and all it has to offer for my place is underground. There are still a great many things that are unknown to me. I suppose it is safe to say that I need protection from the elements... So to speak. I have paid her handsomely in gold to be my own personal guard and seeing how she has already received payment... I feel she is obligated to me. I must also admit I have no sense of direction and at the moment... She is the only one who knows the exact location of the Vault from here... So, in a sense, King Duffy, you must help us help you..."

"Hmm," Duffy nodded as Richard watched the cogs in his head turn with the idea, "You said something about... gold? _Real_ gold?"

"I found no such thing," Stella announced to the room as she drew closer to the podium, "There was no gold found in any of their things. Just useless junk."

"You'd be so stupid as to carry gold around with you carelessly," Richard spat with a scowl, "It isn't something one travels with carelessly. Her payment was secured before we even made our way into Portland in a undisclosed place. Only Tasha knows where it can be found. But there is much more in the Vault than her pinch of profit."

"You disrespectful rat-"

"Silence," Duffy boomed halting the womans words with a gesture of his hand. He looked down at the man with a grave expression that made forced Richard to become attentive, "If this is some kind of trickery... I **will** have your head..."

"Lord Duffy, you have my word..."

"Alright then, what are your terms?"

Richard took a moment to absorb the moment before he spoke, "Well, I wish to be reunited with my guide, our belongings returned to us both," Richard looked over to Stella who continued to smoke from the pipe, "and then we will gladly lead you to the Vault as agreed."

Duffy took a long moment as he observed the conditions in his mind. His stone cold glare piercing Richards soul, "Agreed..." He said finally as he motioned for two Ducks to retrieve the woman held captive. "Cut the man loose..."

Richard bowed his head to Duffy as a female Duck slipped a knife through the rope bindings. Richard took a moment to rub his sore wrists as one by one his things were returned. Everything down to the last bobby pin. He casually looked down at his Pip-boy and brought up the screen he had waited to see.

**Space-time Recall 100%**

Before he knew it, a beaten and bloodied Tasha made her way across the room and to his side. Her eyes observed the situation in a nervous fashion while she collected her things from the floor in front of her. A defeated Stella strolled over with the redheads pipe and tin. A scowl fixed on her face as she gazed into the Engineers eyes. She dropped the contents on the floor in front of the two before drawing in close to the mans ear.

"This isn't over, handsome... I'll be seeing both of you real soon..."

"Looking forward to it," Tasha hissed in return, that fire burning bright in her eyes yet again. Stella made her way back to her corner as Tasha took a quick glance around, whispering to the man, "What did you do, Richard?"

"I made a deal," He said confidently as he gathered his satchel and rifle, "We're going to take these people to the Vault." He gave her a wink that followed a genuine grin.

"So," Duffy began standing to his feet, revealing a brooding side of him Richard hadn't expected, "Where do we begin?"

"Ah," Richard said turning his grin to the king of Old Portland. He gently slid his left hand into Tashas, intertwining their fingers before he began, "See, there is a little problem."

"Problem," Duffy looked perplexed.

"Yes, you see... You're no king... And I'm smarter than you..." With those last words, he watched just long enough for the half-ghouls face to turn cherry and then hit the button.

The two vanished in thin air, leaving the congregation flabbergasted and the king left to curse himself for his own stupidity, "Sorcery! Trickery! I want their heads! I want their heads on a pike! Scour the city! But keep them alive! They will suffer before they die!"

* * *

They appeared where they were earlier that day before they had been caught, collapsing upon placement feeling the same burning pain they had felt before. They rolled around trying to shake the feeling but in vain.

"I'll never get used to that," Richard managed through a long groan, "But I love this thing."

"We escaped..." Tasha muttered.

"Yep," Richard forced himself to his feet before reaching down for the woman, "Now we gotta get out of here."

The man helped her to her feet, throwing her arm over his shoulder before dragging themselves through the empty streets. His eyes looked for any means of shelter that would suffice. He managed to find a manhole a few yards away. After gently placing the woman down, he began to struggle with the heavy iron cover. He set his fingers deep into the crevice and heaved with all of his might. After a few moments it was completely removed and he was busy lowering the girl down along with their things. He switched a button, turning on the Pip-boys flashlight before replacing the sewers cover. Richard took a moment to collect his breath as he looked down the dark corridors of the sewers.

"It'll have to do for the night," he said between breaths, "Any objections?"

Tasha said nothing as she struggled to stand.

"Yeah," Richard chuckled a bit, "I didn't think so..."


End file.

Fallout, Adventure, Mystery