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Fallout Short Story

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corosive:
I recently wrote a 4 page short story ala the Fallout Universe. It's a quick, action packed read, about an unnamed character looking for his sister. The story takes place in the wasteland and New Reno, it's only a ten minute read but I will eventually continue it. I figured that some of you die-hard Fallout fans might be interested in it. But I wrote it quickly in my spare time as a means for getting back into writing. There's lots of symbolism to it, and it's pretty gory and funny. In fact the main character is addicted to all of the drugs in the game, and there's a nice feel that you are actually in the game. However it's a continiously violent story, with dead children, drug use, racism, evil, and slavery. The main character is neutral, but feels responsible for his sisters kidnapping. Although suffering from drug addiction, and schidzophrenia he is generally trying to do the right thing. It's not for the faint of heart :P
Enjoy

The End of Dayes

April 24th, 2241, I'm heading south-west. That's where I was told to go, and that's where I'll find her. It's been too long I can't even bare to think about it, what they've done. It's 66 miles to Reno; I've got a full tank of gas and a bottle of Rotgut to take the pain away. I think I’ll be fine, drinking’s always easy when you’re on the road; there's nowhere to go but straight. Whole ground is ash and there's nothing but road between me and my destination. Too bad I might pass out if I don't make it before the Jet wears off; I'm floating on a fucking cloud. But what's this?! A caravan out in the middle of nowhere...Normally I would stop my car to say hello but I'm way too high for that right now. I step on the gas and go faster, and, faster, and faster than I've ever driven. I need to find my sister...

The next couple of hours I'm drifting in and out of my head; like a dirty glass full of water. I just can't say no. But she's screaming, and it's my own damn fault, I know it is. Fuck, where’s my goddamn Jet! I'm getting the shakes again. Hmm, the sweet bitter taste again, the light headedness. Yeah. I'm good. But she's still screaming, so I step on the gas to drive away from this shit. I can't escape it though, but I don't care. I take another hit of Jet and just keep driving. I'll be there tomorrow, but I can't stop now. Not yet, not until the pain goes away.

Fuck! I can't take it any... I'm thankful for this car, for the gas, for the bullets, for the food. I am thankful that there is hope in man and that my sister... Is still alive... Thank you for the windshield, to keep my eyes free of dust. Thank...

FUCK!
I hit a rock and my car is sent flying. It's wrecked. But I, I am still alive. I drag my goddamn body out of the wreck and stumbled over to what I hit. What I thought was a rock, was a dead child. Torn to bits by wolves, it's a sad fucking sight. My stomach turns, and I lose what's left in my stomach. It didn't help that the child was hit by my car at all. I remember, taking another hit of Jet and passing out...

I awoke in chains - well it was rope, really. Disarmed and beat up. I could see my bloody remains reflected on a piece of glass they cut me with, I knew because it was covered in my blood. The pain I felt helped me relate and understand my surroundings. I was ambushed, "Highwayman" style. I shouldn't have been drinking... But I remember it like it was yesterday. Having pulled a left over piece of glass from my backside, I slowly cut through a few layers of my palms but finally managed to slit the rope. My addiction to Psycho helped me resist pain, but my fucking hands still hurt. I could barely hold onto a gun, but the Jet helped for that.

The room was a shit-hole, and it smelt like a bunch of Cannibals lived here. My stuff was gone, even my boots were missing. It was too dark to see really, but I could make out what looked like a door; there was moonlight shining through its cracks. The room was silent though, but I knew someone would be coming for me soon, either to finish me off, or sell me for ransom. Heh, too bad they didn't know that nobody wants a worthless Jet head that's chasing his dead sister’s shadow... I would cry, but I’ve just cried too much. That's what the Buffout is for.

"Get to the point, asshole."

My point...was that they weren't Cannibals. In fact they just stumbled upon that old shack in the middle of the fucking ashes of Mankind, and left me there to die. But I didn't give them a chance to let that one happen, oh boy! You bet your ass I didn't! I sat right back down onto that chair, pretended to be tied up and waited for those motherfuckers to step right back into my new found trap. And like a bird on a fucking feather they came stumbling in. I watched them and smiled as one of the three men crept closer, and closer. "You know your guna' die now" they shrieked, but I just sat with myself half exposed by the light, grinning a farewell grin. Up I sprang like a killer to a feast, hands in air I set upon one man's throat and snapped his sissy neck like a wish bone. And how that wish came true! The next man screamed in terror as I plunged his dead friend towards him, knocking him to the ground. Then my barefoot was hurled into the heart, then the throat of the soon to be lifeless man. Unfortunately, the third Highwayman shot me in the gut before I could finish him off. Too bad for him I fell unto his friend’s pistol, and with that pulled the trigger to make fail their plans. Too bad, eh?

"So you killed my men, almost with ease I might add. Then what? How did you survive that gunshot wound? Let me guess, Rotgut? 
Or was it more Jet?"

It takes more than one bullet to kill this man, man. You should have kept that in mind, the next time you try to take someone's sister. I pull the trigger. It, is the best goddamn trigger, I have ever pulled. The splashing blood and brain fragments didn't even bother me. Like a rush of Heroin I could almost sleep right now. But my job isn't done, and it's a long road and there are just too many stops for me to skip. I hope the next one feels this great. I tend to my wounds, loot the room, and find my stuff stuffed into a duffle bagged marked "Evidence". A sick joke I thought, and step out into the wasteland. It was still dark, but I could see where I crashed. There was a small opening through the rocky walls around the shack, indicating that this was a well hidden shelter. I'll remember this place I thought, as I drag the lifeless, murdered corpses from the shack and throw them to the vultures. Fuck you, I spat, and returned to my wrecked car. It wouldn't drive again, but I could salvage the parts and attach them to the Highwaymen's Jeep. It wasn't better then my Honda, but it sure beats a Buggy any day. I welded my doors to the Jeep, changed the lights, added a quick make-shift roof and off I went. Back into the pile of shit they called Post-War America. YOUR America, you sick fucks.

This is the part where I take some more drugs, but I didn't have any drugs left. One thing that pissed me off about the Highwaymen was that they did all my drugs. And I mean ALL of them, a couple of hours later they would have probably overdosed, if I hadn't had killed them. I did them a favour, you don't want to O.D off my shit. I've been there, and there's only ONE way in getting out of it --You don't. Shit look at me. I could see my reflection in the half-broken side mirror of the Jeep. I need to sleep, or just fucking sane up. I look like a psycho! Fuck it, I thought! I need to find my sister, and I've came a long way. A whole country over, and I'm already on my fifteenth car. Thank god they made a lot of these before the bombs fell.

I drive for hours, and I'm not even half way to Reno. I stop the Jeep, and pass out. I wake up to the sun glaring in my eyes and I'm on the road again. I’m outta Jet, but I've still got plenty of Psychos --for those intense moments. But she's not screaming, and I don't have the shakes, so I stay clean. It's April 25th now, and I'm still documenting this trip. The people of the future need to know what people like me have done to help bring hope to this fucking place. And it's a big fucking place, with little amounts of people like me. I am still heading to Reno, and I'm still looking for my sister. I'm close though, as the smell of Golgotha reaches my nostrils. It's fucking bad, I don't understand how people can step foot in there. I can see it all roll past in the distance, fresh graves, and no vultures. The stench is just too bad. But I don't care about the people that have been buried there; it's a gravesite for losers, not winners. And Uncle Sam needs winner’s baby!

I'm here, Reno baby. The, place, to, be. It's my kinda town, but it's not my kind of day. The dying Slaver told me they were bringing my sister here, to auction her off in one of the casinos to the richest pimp. As I ripped what jaw he had left, I remember the Slaver telling me that I would never find her, unless it was raped dead in a ditch. I ate my radscorpion off of his jaw bone that night; it wasn't one of my proudest moments. But it made me feel a whole heck of a lot better. I'm trying to find a place to park, but nowhere looks safe enough. There's a nigger with a gold fucking tooth asking me if I want to pay for safe parking...What a moron I thought, who the fuck is gonna leave their car to a dealer? The black man behind him tells me to park out in the wastes and walk in. I do that.

I'm not even walking the streets of Reno for more than 5 minutes and some hooker is trying to whore herself out to me. Shit, if only I had the time honey. A drug dealer with a cheap beard approaches me with a trench coat full of drugs. Jackpot I thought. I pull out my firearm and put a hole in his head; taking his boatload of drugs with me. Score! Thank fucking God I'm in Reno! Anything goes baby! The rest of the whores, pimps, dealers, and low-lives go about their business and I'm walking inside the first Casino I see. It's full of Hispanics... Not a place for Slavers to make their profits, Hispanics were known to be a little shifty. Nah these guys wouldn't deal with the Hispanics, so I'm off. I walk out the door, and then it hits me. Right in the face like a bad habit, she's not only screaming at the top of her lungs, but my head is spinning. It didn't help at all that I just got a baseball bat to the skull. I'm down and I'm just gasping for air.

"Thought you could just kill my boy, and take his shit eh? You dumb mother fucker! I'm guna..."

I take a hit of Jet and the world turns slower, I kneel up and place my trigger to his throat and pull down. The calm rush of peace fills the air as one less thug walks the streets. The brain fragments land on the nearby door bouncer, but he's smiling too hard to care. "The loot is yours big guys." I say as I walk away towards the next casino. I'm standing at the doors to the Sharks Club... it's an old building, and the sign is half worn out, but it looks like a classy joint. Definitely a place for some wannabe rich Slavers, I inject a tank of Psycho into my veins, swallow a couple of Mentats and I'm inside. Nice place, fucking full of centipedes playing roulette, and a dwarf working the sluts...Oh man, I'm high. I black out.

I'm watching myself drag myself into the bathroom, where no one seems to have noticed me yet. Shit...”Look at myself” I think. I'm starring into my reflection in the broken glass when I see him. Smiling like a jackal, the bastard that took my sister is trying to take a piss in the urinal beside me. I turn my head to face him, and he's looking right at me, just as surprised as I am. Looks like he pissed himself too, couldn't get it out in time. I ring my dirty, drug rattled hands around his neck and I start asking him. "Where is my sister? Where is my sister?" "She’s dead" he says before I break his neck. But I'm running out of the can, with my goddamn gun in the air like a maniac. And that's when I see her! Shackled --In chains! My little sister is being pawned off to the highest bidder. Half naked, crying, and scared she is screaming, begging for me to save her. And that's when I snapped.

With blind fury I fired, and fired, blasting holes into people's faces, I’m tormenting the Sharks Club. But like a fool, I am hit by many bullets. I take more, and more, and more of my drugs until I am numb. I, am, invincible, and nothing that night could have killed me. I grab my freshest kill and use him as a human shield, his bleak, expressionless face makes me laugh a bit, but he's getting shot a lot. And soon his body will be of no more use to me. My sister; still on the stage jumps to the ground and cuddles into a corner to hide, she is safe from the bullets, but alas this casino must die. If not for me alone! Then for the future of all men with sisters! I pull the trigger, over and over and over again, running from each room, to each corner, killing everyone. I am looting my victim’s weapons as I speak and I am using them to kill their friends. My armour is still hit, over and over again. But I don't care, I am numb. The last man falls dead on the ground --well it was a woman, a female roulette dealer. I shot her out of blind rage, and for that I am truly sorry. No matter, my sister runs to my arms and I can hold her once again. I smile, for the first time...My first smile.

Please insert “4” credits to continue.

Pryszczu666:
Amazing, it's like a wasteland story written by Stephen King and directed by Peter Jackson, an epic combination ! Wish to see some more ;)

Michaelh139:
"Inserts 4 credits" 

Wheres my fucking story this is freaking awesome!!  MOAR!

corosive:
I''ll post a few more chapters eventually, glad people like it.

falloutdude:
i really like this story i cant make cool storys like this so i like it when people write them really nice looking forward to a second back :) :)

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