Reality of Annihilation

War.

What is War?

The people in Washington say it's necessary. The Slavic's in Moscow say it's a test of strength. The Hippies in the West call it an atrocity. The Church says it's a divinely justified means of spreading God's word. Truthfully, it meant the advancement of technology, at the expense of others.

After World War II, we had new medical advancement. We had discovered the secrets of Atomic power. Hiroshima and Nagasaki were grim reminders of that. When Nuclear energy started replacing other means of energy production, technological advancements soared.

During the battle of Anchorage, Power Armor was implemented for the first time. Along with Energy based rifles and pistols. It was a next Generation war. Humanity had come so far, technologically speaking. However, what cost did it have?

Each new weapon manufactured, each improvement to the Power Armor. They were soaked with the blood of another Human. Someone who fought for a cause they thought was just. Just as they had done decades before.

What came of the world after that?

'Total Atomic Annihilation'. Vault-Tec had called it. After Hiroshima and Nagasaki, they knew that eventually, the Nuclear energy we relied so heavily on would be our downfall. Whether or not they had their hat in the pile is completely unknown. The important factor is they were right.

They believed the methods may change;

War. War never changes.

"Oh brother." one man sighed, placing the paper back on the desk. "You're killing me Dennis."

Crouching beside the prone man, the wanderer held his revolver to the man's temple. This man, Dennis, had been alive at the time of the Nuke's detonation centuries ago. He could tell just from looking at Dennis' face. Rough, ragged, and with pure black eyes. Dennis was a Ghoul, a Human exposed to so much radiation that their bodies aged at a snail's pace.

"W-what do you want, Clark?" Dennis whimpered, fearful of the gun beside his head.

"You know damn well what I want." Clark growled, firing the pistol into the air, before pressing the barrel onto Dennis' temple. "I want the location of that Vault."

"AAAUUUUGHHH!" Dennis thrashed as the barrel of the weapon seared his skin. "I'LLTELLYOUI'LLTELLYOU!"

"Good." Clark said, helping the man to his feet. "I'm not a bad guy, Dennis. You know that. I'm just doing what it takes to survive is all."

"You have a funny way of showing it." Dennis murmured, standing up.

"Had you just cooperated with me in the first place, instead of trying to give me the works, we wouldn't be here right now." Clark said. "Vault 115, where is it?"

"To the North of the city. At the top of the hill." Dennis said, pulling a map onto the table, his shriveled finger pointing to a specific location. "What do you want there, anyways?"

"I don't ask. I just do." Clark said, his gaze piercing Dennis. "People pay me Caps, I do my job."

With that, Clark stood, clutching the map while walking towards the doorway. Dennis sighed in relief, as Clark turned, pointing his pistol at Dennis' face.

"A word to the wise." Clark said. "Get a better tag-line. 'War never changes' is a bit tacky."

Leaving the room, Clark pulled the clunky personal computer on his left arm up. The Pip-boy flickered to life, the mascot Vault-Boy, giving Clark the thumbs up on the screen. Turning the nob, music began to billow out of the machine's speakers.

*Wanderer*

"Ooh." Clark chuckled. "I like this one."

Glancing down at the map, he fixed the coordinates that Dennis had showed him into the Pip-Boy's built in map feature. Holding his revolver at the ready, Clark began to walk down the road.

Stepping out into the 'fresh' afternoon air, Clark took a deep breath in. People walked to and fro throughout the makeshift city. They called it the Common. What used to be known as Vermont, pre-apocalypse, the city was known as Weston.

The Playhouse, which had been the go-to spot in the city, had been redesigned as a City-Hall, the stage itself a meeting place for the town. Clark snorted as he walked past it, hawking a loogie at the marble stairs.

Walking through a crowd of people, with the music blaring, they turned to Clark with a glare. Of course, when they saw him, they scuttled away. Smirking with pride, he strode through where they had just been standing to the gate. The door from the settlement opened without hesitation, as he stepped out into the wastes.

From the look of his map, the Vault was a couple of miles to the North. Up a hill on the far side of the pond. From where Clark was standing, it was hard to miss. He could barely make out the details of an old dirt road trailing up the hillside.

The door behind him closed, but Clark didn't care. The settlement had always been a bore whenever he had been there. His place was out in the Waste. Whistling in tune with the song, Clarke walked with a purpose around the edge of the pond. His eyes were careful for the potential of Mirelurks.

Those things always made his skin crawl. Of all the mutated creatures the Wasteland had spawned, there were none as creepy as the Mirelurks. He could take the Bloatflies and the Blood Bugs, he could even tolerate Death Claws and Yao Gui's. Mirelurks, however, were fast on their feet, and could kill you just as quickly.

Surely enough, a Mirelurk popped out of the mud to his left. Turning his revolver towards it, he fired a single round into it's mid-section. Despite the grief he gave them, he relished in knowing they weren't that hard to kill.

As the song died down, Clark pulled the Pip-Boy back up, turning off the Radio. The music was likely to attract unneeded attention, but that last song was always on at this time of day, and he never tired of it. Keeping his distance from the shore, he kept his pace urgent, but also softly stepping.

Mirelurk eggs, when encountered, were numerous. If even one of them were stepped on, he could be attacked by every Mirelurk in the area. Being a body of water, Mirelurks were heavily populated. Though, Clark always wondered where the hell the crabs that would become the Mirelurks came from anyways.

Finally, Clark had reached the other side of the Pond, the dirt trail leading up the hill was just in front of him. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to expect up ahead, so he holstered the pistol, pulling his hunting rifle off of his back. It had been supplied by his employer for this job, and could fire his choice of energy lances or .50 caliber rounds.

It had a recoil dampener, of course, so his arm wouldn't shatter upon firing the rifle. He had a detachable scope, enabling the weapon to be fired from long or close range, if he so chose. It was truly his favorite weapon. Walking up the trail, he could see that a checkpoint from the olden days had remained standing.

What annoyed him, however, were the Scavvers rummaging through it. Clark had nothing against the occasional Scavenger, but these were Raiders. Scavengers that relished in blatant killing of innocent people. Clark wasn't afraid to kill anyone, so long as his life was in danger, or if someone was impeding him from doing his job. Killing innocents for sport, however, was something he couldn't get behind.

Unfortunately for them, they had spotted him. Whistling, they beckoned him forward. Holding his rifle down, Clark trudged up the hill. His eyes scanned the area, it had only been two of them.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" one of them growled, pointing his crudely made pipe-sawed-off shotgun at Clark. "You here for our supplies?"

"I'm actually here to pick up an order." Clark smirked, his gaze shared between both of them. "Two Large Cheese and a Calzone? Name is 'Fuck You'."

The first Raider grit his teeth in annoyance, pushing his shotgun to Clark's chest, before the other Raider pushed the gun away.

"The hell are you doing?!" the second one growled. "You know the Vault's over run! Boss said so! Save your bullets."

Clark shook his head. Sometimes, Raiders were just so stupid it hurt. Quickly raising his rifle, he fired a round point blank into the face of the guy with the shotgun, before plunging the bayonet on the front into the second Raider's face.

Running his hands expertly across the men, he scavenged whatever bottle caps he could off of their persons. Hell, they wouldn't be needing it anymore. Looking up the hill, he began to wonder what the second Raider had meant by the Vault being over-run. His employer had told him that the package inside of the Vault was important. That it hadn't been opened since the day of Detonation centuries ago.

Trudging the rest of the way up the path, he could see the booth Vault-Tec representative used to open and close the Vault. Walking over towards it, he entered the booth, pressing the massive button on it. Turning his attention towards the elevator styled entrance of the Vault, Clark stepped on the platform, just as it began to sink into the Earth.

Author's Notes: It's a bit of a teaser, sorry about that. More is planned for this in the future. I just wanted to post a bit of a teaser to see what the interest level in this kind of story is. If there is enough interest, I'll continue planning it out and post it regularly.

Also, I know this is back to third person. Personally, I don't want to write two first person stories side by side, because the personalities of the characters are different, and I don't want to confuse the two of them.

Did you reuse the intro to Fallout 4? It's whatever if you did. Kinda lame tho. 

I'm interested to see how a Fallout fanfic would play out. Not a big fan of the Vault Dweler intro, as we've seen that in both numbered releases of the games, so I'm glad you seem to be avoiding that. 

I'm also glad you're avoiding straight up copying Fallout 4's story. It'd be easy to do in an open ended game like Fallout. 

Avoid putting the lyrics to songs in the story. The way you did it, I was listening to the song while reading, making the lyrics redundant. 

I'd also like to know how Clark got the Pip-Boy. Maybe a similar job he did allowed him to find one? Pip-Boys had to be in good supply of they have them to 10 year olds for 200 years. Either way, that's up to you. 

I'd like to see you continue this story. Avoid clichés, make the story your own and what-not. Fucking do it, pussy. No balls.

As we discussed on Xbox, no, I did not in fact copy Fallout 4's intro. However, the piece of paper that Clarke read was an homage to the typical Fallout intro.

While it wasn't taken directly taken from a Fallout game, it was in fact inspired by one. Think of it less like a copy and paste, and more of an Easter Egg.

Vault Dwellers, while cool because they are us the Player, are indeed extremely boring. For once, it'd be cool to see what the Wasteland is like for someone that actually has been IN it for more than a simulated five weeks *legit, my Fallout 4 playthrough took about five in-game weeks*. He knows Mirelurks, he knows Deathclaws.

Instead of being the raging family-driven badass of a Vault Dweller, Clark doesn't disregard the fact that the Wasteland is actually a dangerous place. He's seen and survived from some shit. He gets paid Caps to do dirty work for his employers, but isn't afraid to decline a job if he thinks it's too dangerous, or an obvious setup.

Also, he doesn't have the same drives as a Vault Dweller. He hasn't known the cramped life-style of the Vaults. He doesn't know of the world before Atom.

It'sKruger wrote:I'm also glad you're avoiding straight up copying Fallout 4's story. It'd be easy to do in an open ended game like Fallout.  

There are many story-lines that I will follow. Fallout stories are not one of them. My character in that game may be my own, but his path is pretty damn linear, no? You can choose a faction at the end, but one way or another, you blow shit up along the way. It's cool, but it isn't full immersion. Instead, if I write my own story within the Universe, it can be much more mine.

It may seem hypocritical coming from a guy who has an entire story based directly off of Halo Reach, 2, and 3 on the board. Mistakes were made then, and I'm trying to avoid blatant plot copying. I have a lot of stereotypes and TV tropes in my stories, but I've given up taking Plot ideas.

Lyric typing is a bad habit of mine. I'm always listening to music when I write, because if nothing else, it's inspiration. I guess somewhere in the typing, I imagine the characters actually singing the song. Back in one of my first drafts for Origins *Blaine's first story*, it was more of a musical than a 'novel'.

I'll try and keep it to a bare minimum from now on.

It'sKruger wrote:I'd also like to know how Clark got the Pip-Boy

Already told you, but to the other potential readers; WILL BE EXPLAINED LATER!

It'sKruger wrote:I'd like to see you continue this story. Avoid clichés, make the story your own and what-not. Fucking do it, pussy. No balls.

Kill yoself m8, u wont.

Seriously, it'll be my own. There will be NO Fallout 4 scenes in this. Perhaps the BoS will show up, and perhaps there might be a RR faction, considering Vermont is North of Massachusetts. Beyond that, nothing else. Promise.

Do what you want mate. It's your story. Write what you want to write.

Don't worry . I still have every intention of writing this. I was just posting so people didn't think I was blatantly ignoring Vale, though I should xD .

What I meant was write the stuff you want to write in your story. This one as well. Doesn't matter what other people say. It's about what you want. I mean no offense to Vale of course, but write whatever you want, and to heck with everyone else. Only you can write your story.

I appreciate it, but what I'm saying is that was what my plan was from the beginning xD . The only thing I've changed was posting the lyrics in the story so far. Beyond that, everything is ago.

I know what you mean, however.

Doctor Jensen wrote:What I meant was write the stuff you want to write in your story. This one as well. Doesn't matter what other people say. It's about what you want. I mean no offense to Vale of course, but write whatever you want, and to heck with everyone else. Only you can write your story.

While that's all well and good, Jensen, I was only giving my critique on his first post. I'm not saying I'm the best writer ever, I'm just telling Morgan things to avoid so that this story is legit his own. I talk to Morgan almost every day on Xbox, and since I gave my first critique to him some years back he followed my advice and has grown into a much better writer by way of my advice. Same with John. 

I'm also not saying I'm the best critic ever. You don't even have to listen to me. But Morgan and I help each other out with our stories all the time. I'm just mean. 

Also, I think that Morgan is a much better writer than he allows himself to be most of the time. Look at Blaine. In the past, Morgan's stories were pretty eh. I'm not insulting him, I'm being honest. But if you read his stories lately, his characterization, themes, and even his exposition writing have improved dramatically over the years. Being yourself and writing what you want is admirable, but I think the Database is made up of enough decent writers to help each other grow as authors. I'm just more blunt about it to Morgan and John because I talk to them almost every day over Xbox.

To add on to what Vale is saying, he may be blunt, but due to my interactions with him, I know full well that his intentions are mostly good. He's a douche, but it's that douche attitude that makes me strive to be better.

I appreciate you encouraging me to write what I want to write. Believe me, nothing Vale could ever say will have me stop doing that. However, I'm open to criticism, because I am the firm believer that a story should be read.

It's always fun for me to write stories, and let the creative juices flow. However, if I don't have anyone reading my stuff, I get disheartened and don't produce as much. Fruits of my labor, I suppose you could say.

It's that same reason why I want to act in one way or another as a profession. It allows me to engage with people in a very unique and beautiful way. I can convey emotions and tell a story, and to some, that can mean all the difference.

Now, I will be updating this soon. I'm doing further research into the lore of the Fallout series so this can be as educated as I possibly can muster. In the meanwhile, Vale, if you read this, we REALLY need to get together and work on that other project.

Criticism is good. Very good. I'm not saying don't be a critic because that would ruin someone and it would ruin their story. I guess the point is, it is not the story that should be criticized, but the techniques used to write the story (except for in rare cases like breaking the fourth wall, etc.). That something I hear from big time authors all the time.

Vale is fine criticizing. It's really fine. I had no problem with that, and maybe it's just my preference, but I try not to criticize the story. Because someone will read it, even if I don't like it. Anyways, Vale, no hard feelings at all (especially because it's not my story). Just my four cents.

Plus, I think we're all here to be good writers, and I agree that criticism is a part of that. Trust me, that's something I know. I would rather have people criticize the devices used to create my story than get praise. Than means way more to me.