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“Ma’am, ma’am! There’s something you need to see, in front of the Dinky Dinosaur, quick!” “I don’t know what all the fuss is about, but I’ll go with you.”
I slapped on the beret, chuckling at the fact that I’d just woken her up from her sleep. And she actually fell for her it, she didn’t even ask twice or question me on this, oh my goodness.
I stepped outside, noting the little autosave notification in the corner. I almost had to jog to keep up with her, how she’s walking in heels on a broken up road, I’ll never know or be able to emulate. As I struggled to keep up with Jeannie May Crawford as she strut down the road, in front of the giant dinosaur. She walked over the slope of the small hill ahead of the road and I adjusted the red beret on my head, waiting and waiting for a gunshot when—
CRA-RACK! FWIPSH!
I almost miss her head exploding into six perfect crimson pieces.
I drag her body over the hill and resist the urge to bend over cackling. As it is, I just quietly laugh at her expense. I try to tamp down the grin at the headless corpse, a heavy satisfaction at knowing a slave peddler is dead. Why am I so happy? Why do I even care? Why do I hate slavers so much? I wish I knew, but these stitched up holes in my head prevent that kinda shit so I’m just going to ride the high.
All I know is that I definitely need an instant replay of her head flying apart.
I click on the pip-boy that Doc Mitchell gave me (thanks man) and access my autosave.
I watch her head explode a second time and her body flop to the ground. Then I watch it again! And again! Again. Again.
By the time my glee finally stops making me cry from the uncontrollable laughter spilling from my lips, the satisfactions slipped into something bitter and righteous in my gut, I go back one final time and make a quick hard save right in front of her door. So I can see another slaver fall whenever I feel the urge. So I get to see her face splinter into an unrecognizable broken mass of skin and brain as eyes squish onto shattered glasses.
The last time I watch her die, it’s as satisfying as the first and I look on with an eager grin, bill of sale in hand, the damning evidence of Jeannie May Crawford’s deeds all that really matters.
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As Vance once again told Vivian ‘no’ for the password to his newest charge’s room, Vivian screamed, unhooked her Chinese assault rifle off her back and opened fire into Vance’s face. Vance’s corpse dropped to the ground, rolling over three times, legs kicking wildly back and forth as his arm stretched out from his body into the wall and out back into the floor. Of course this sight was followed by bullets flying from members of Vance’s little cult from every angle. The law of physics being broken was apparently no big deal to them.Vivian chucked the empty clip into the wall, where it flew past the wall before bouncing back dramatically doing 360 degree spins without end. Vivian returned fire with a certain malice, howling, “I JUST WANTED TO DELIVER THIS FUCKING LETTER!” Two members of Vance’s cult who she’d forgotten the names of were killed and their legs shot off their bodies as their torsos clipped through the tables and chairs. “WHAT THE FUCCCCCK--!!”Vivian ate a hot bullet sandwich and slumped over, body rolling and flipping with no ties to any sort of gravity. Her last words were, “Fucking finally.” The click of a projector as it took a ridiculously long time to slide to the next screen and then Vivian was facing the resurrected Vance once again. She simply nodded, without having said a single word and tried not to be too loud as she stomped out of the sewers.
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“Hey, hey. Whoa there now. I just got done digging out pieces of bullets out of your skull. Slow down.”Fuck that noise. It felt like someone took a crowbar to my head and decided it would be a great idea to just skullfuck me with it. Repeatedly. Down the middle, up the sides, in my face, all that. The fuck happened?…Wait—“I got shot in the fucking head?! The actual hell?!”The voice, that belonged to an old man with a white beard, spoke again. “Nice to see you’re in better spirits. This is all we found on you.” He hands me some stuff that I shuffle to the side. Loot later, answers now.“Who shot me in the head?”“I don’t rightly know. Victor dug you up from a shallow grave and brought you here.”Cool. Great. I was assassinated. Amazing“Now,” he hands me a…thing with…buttons and a screen? And it has knobs and shit on it too, the hell? “Can you take a look at this and tell me if you can look how you remember?”Why didn’t he just hand me a mirror? Sex? Why are there only two options? What if I don’t fit the category? Damn, I don’t know, I didn’t really look down to check if I had a vag or a dick or otherwise.…Vag. Ok, that’s out of the way, but I gotta make sure that I put in no gender—…Where’s the button that asks for gender? What is this? Why is male a female the only two options? WhERe are my BUTTONS? WHAT IS THIS? Why is it asking for my ethnicity? Why are there only four options? TherE ARE MoRe than FOUR, DOC. It’s almost like I’m in some incredibly limited pre-war video game or something. What kind of bullshit—Wait.WAIT.I…this is a character creation screen isn’t it? I can tell by the incredibly restricting options. Holy hell. I’ve become a protagonist of a game! Fuck yeah!…Actually, this is terrible. I just got shot in the head and I have no idea what’s going on. I don’t even know my own name and didn’t know I had a vag until like three seconds ago. How am I supposed to be an important player in a video game if I’m having a (mid?) life crisis?All I know is that I’m a mailman, and that’s it! I didn’t sign up for this! I mean I might even be unlucky to be in one of those games that promises to be open ended role paying and it’s just all railroaded to four speech options with little to no change and all endings are the same with no resolution! I might have to even wait to find some DLC bullshit to continue on with my life and answer all the gaping questions that I’m not allowed to answer on my own! What am I supposed to even be doing here?!…I mean, I guess I can deal for a while as long as I get to kill that fucker who shot me in the head. I mean…I’ll just end up sidelining my responsibilities for a while, but I’ll still get to it. Eventually. I long as I get to kill whoever that is, I won’t shoot myself in the head a second time and forget all about this.Yay responsibility. Whoo-hoo.
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She’s sitting over there, vodka in hand. There’s a little black box in my pocket and I’m stalling. I just have to go up to her and ask. We’re in front of all of our colleagues, so there’s no way she’ll be as brutal as she normally is! I take a deep breath and stand up, wiping my sweaty hand on my pants, it’s freezing out her in Anchorage, but I feel so overheated. Her beautiful amber eyes flick up from Ada, whose head is lying on her shoulder up to me as I stand in front of her. You can do this, Nate! Man up! “Hey, Li!” My voice is scratchy and I think she’s just going to ignore me. She smiles. She’s smiling! She pats the empty seat next to her, as Jacy chatters loudly out of the seat next to it, the vodka bottle cradled on her knee. “Hey Nate. How ya’ doing?” Oh god, oh god, oh god. C’mon, don’t fuck this up. Please let this work! “Li,” I bend down on one knee and pull out a little black box. It feels so heavy, now that it’s out in the open. Eyes are on us, “It’s been an honor serving with you and I enjoy the time we spend together. I can only hope that you feel the same.” I flick the box open to show her the practical wedding band for her, as Li is a practical woman herself. “Please, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Her eyebrows shoot up and she fidgets, seeming to notice all the eyes on us. Please, please, please! She closes her hand over the box and snaps it shut, “Nate…” I feel my cheeks burn, despite the frigid air. Here it comes! “No. I refuse.” My shoulders sag and my eyes burn along with my cheeks, “Why not?” A soft breath, “Nate, you and I have become pretty good friends, but I would never see myself with you. I think it’s better we stay where we are.” I get off my knee, box shoved into my pocket. Maybe, just maybe, I can turn this into a good situation. “If I can’t have your hand, can we at least go out for a date sometime?" Li opened her mouth and responded evenly, "No." My throat closes up with a thick lump, so I just nod before all but running out of the room. I should've just kept my mouth shut...
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My shiny new Enclave armor is coated with blood. My blood and the blood of the people who I killed to pry the armor off their dead bodies. Doesn’t matter. Raven Rock is exploding, I convinced President Eden to self-destruct, and that dickhead Colonel Autumn escaped. I’ll fuck that guy up with my sledgehammer and dance on his corpse when I find him. I was nearly knocked to the side by the giant explosion, my knees trembling from the impact. Right. Murder boner later, run for my life now. As I finally crossed the threshold to the last door between me and the wasteland, I skipped into the air. Enclave power armor and all, as I hopped excitedly up and down. I couldn’t quite taste the rancid outside air due to the filtration unit inside my helmet that made it taste less like bloatfly shit, but I took a deep breath anyway. Freedom! I’m free! I look down and see a super mutant mowing down Enclave soldiers with an oversized gatling laser, laughing maniacally. Dead! I’m so fucking dead! Oh my vault-tec, I’m so fucking dead! I stopped skipping for joy and sprinted, or at least ran as fast as the game mechanics would allow me (re: not very fast) without risking the possibility of making the entire game crash around my ears. Charon! Ruby! Fawkes! Dogmeat! Where are you?! I’m about to get mowed the fuck down! I’m greeted by a high chain link fence that blocks me off from running down the mountain. I’m fucked. I’m so fucked. Mom? Dad? Open your arms, your little girl is coming to you very soon! The super mutant finished killing the shit out of the soldiers and I crouched down, with no cover to hide me and the dusty ground contrasting with my new armor. I’m so loud. This guys gonna see me and he’s gonna gun me down. My footsteps crunched loudly and I’m so glad that my radio isn’t on. C’mon, c’moon— “Vivian! My friend!” Wait, what? An old tattered vault suit and black boots as he carried a giant gatling laser. My eyes widened. “Fawkes!” I get up and run at him at full speed, without any regard for the game mechanics and its glitchy rules and jumped onto him. I felt his hand on my lower back as he took a half-step back. Probably because he wasn’t expecting to have to catch me while holding a giant laser. I gave him a wet kiss on the cheek, “Fawkes! I’m so glad to see you!” He set me on my feet and I could see he had a bit of a grin, “I came to rescue you, but I see I didn’t quite get here in time.” My cheeks hurt from the smile, but I don’t really mind. “How did you find me?” “I hid when I saw them taking you away and followed them here. I felt it was time to free you as you freed me.” “Thanks. Is that your new toy?” “Yes,” he holds it up, “I found it while I came to get you. I quite like it.” I grabbed his hand, “Fawkes, do you want to travel with me? I’d be grateful to have you along.” “Of course!” Aw man, I love this guy.
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Doc Mitchell asks my name after I make myself look the way I wanted to. Dark brown skin, brown grey eyes, and a resting bitch face, thick eyebrows pushed into an unbreakable furrow. ‘This is what I look like. This is what I look like.’ The curly hair on my head is pushed into a long bang that hangs in front of my face, pushing the curls en masse to the back of my neck. There’s lovely little curls that adorn the side of my left temple, near the fuzzy little chasm that’s decorated with a long red stitched line that begins somewhere in the back of my skull and ends above my left brow. Its sister scar claimed its place from above my right eyebrow, under my hair, above my ear and stretches its best just below where curls are pushed in at the back. ‘This is what I look like. This is what I look like.’ ‘But is it really?’ The belongings that Doc Mitchell gave me are three different suits of armor, a laser pistol, a broad machete, ten throwing spears, and a weathered 10mm pistol. In the handle of the machete, the grip of the gun, and the handle of the spears, there are letters eteched in deep that spell out K-A-S-T-A. Kasta. The same letters are stitched into the collars of the armor as well, blotted out in certain places with blood and thick in some places like its been rewritten over and over again. Kasta. Is it my name? I only feel intense pain radiating from the new healing scars in my head when I try to think past the moment I woke up. ‘Kasta. Kasta. Kasta. Kasta. Kasta. Why doesn’t my hair look right? Kasta. Kasta. Kasta. The name must be my birthright.’ ‘But is it really?’ “What’s your name?” “Six.”
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My gloves are attached to my hip and the burner is at the highest setting, the only light in the otherwise empty apartment. Murderer, I'm a murderer, but the fact that I've killed isn't the as important to me as much as the possible consequences i'd have to face if I get caught.I'm a far cry from the frightened ten-year-old who killed a cop, now I'm a thirteen-year-old with my finger constantly attached to the trigger of a gun or gripping the ledges of a building.
Do or die. Die or do what I have to.
I haven't been caught yet. Doesn't mean it won't happen.I look at the burning stove and my hand shakes, I grab my glove and shove it in my mouth and grab my left hand by the wrist. I've made up my mind. And with that, I plunge my fingers into the open flame.My legs spasm and my hand shakes in my grip as I choke on the glove in my mouth, Tears fall from my eyes along with drool from as I collapse to the ground, my right hand digging into the wood as my left trembles, inflamed and raw. But I've done it, the fingerprints have been completely warped and the raw boils forming wipe away anything the fire didn't burn clean.I sniffle as I push myself up, making sure that the aloe vera is close by and I tie the gauze tightly around my hand after the first layer has been applied. The pain seems to intensify as I hold up my right hand to the flames again. The tears are falling fast now and the cool gel of the aloe vera isn't enough to soothe the burned nerves of my fingertips.Do or die, I remind myself. Die or do what you have to.My right hand is plunged into the flames.