Title pending-wastle land journal in Fallout 3

[Guest]

This story is set in the Fallout 3 universe. If you haven't played it and don't want things spoiled, do yourself a favor and don't read this. This is a journal written by a new character I made by the name of Jack. The man's name and looks were inspired by the future Jack Shepard in season 5 of Lost (with the beard and drug problem).
Anyway, I'm doing this to show the development of an evil character in this post-apocalyptic world, while the character actually believes himself to being doing acts of kindness.

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Entry 1: Friday, 08-17-77
Entry 2:

[Guest]

Friday, 08-17-77

8:25 p.m. - I finally left that forsaken vault. My god, everyone in there is completely whacked. They refuse to acknowledge the fact that they are living in the end of times. They think that by locking themselves away they can just shut out reality, like it is nothing more than a nightmare. My father had the right idea when he took off. I just don't understand why he didn't take me with him. What did I do to make him think I wanted to stay in that shithole?

My first view of the outside world was shrouded by darkness, though the moonlight highlighted the broken remains of what looked like an old town. As I made my way down the hillside, I found a sign labeling the dump as the town of Springvale. The area was filled with foundations of large wooden houses, nothing more than frames now with a little bit of wallpaper hanging on like decaying skin. Stoves and refrigerators stood out like yellow teeth in the mouth of a skull. Trash littered the streets: tin cans, glass bottles, kitchen wares. All of it a sign that the life my vault-mates are trying to live is the dream, not what lay outside the vault door. This...wasteland, this is the reality. It is a nightmare, nonetheless.

I continued making my way through the skeletal remains of the town, following the road northward. I noticed, sitting alone on the sidewalk on the left side of the road, a small blue metal box. I approached the box, interested in the sign painted on the front of it. It was made with some kind of paint, and I can't say I recognize the symbol at all. A small little door along the top of the box was labeled "mail," and it swung inward as I pushed. Pushing it revealed a small string taped to the door. Pulling the string out revealed a small bundle of goods, wrapped in cloth sack. Forcing the bundle out from the small opening, I laid it on the ground and stared at my find: three grenades, and a glass vial with some kind of orange liquid in it, and what seemed like an inhaling apparatus attached to the bottom of it. Not quite sure what to do with the thing, I simply stuck in the pocket of my leather jacket. The grenades I re-wrapped in the bundle and tied to the belt on my waist. I was sure, out here, I would find some good use for them.

I continued on, my eyes more open than they had been before. Another stash like that may reveal even more valuable items for the taking. Of course, whoever had put it there in the first place won't be too happy that I was taking them, but it won't matter as long as they never know it was me.

The desolate road led to another sign, backdropped by what may have at one time been a large building. All that was left of it now was about two floors, the rest of it completely missing except for steel beams and rebars bulging outward from the broken cement walls like the ribs of a large beast. Shadows filled the windows, and there was no glass left to reflect any of the moonlight. A school would be the best place to sleep for the night. I was shit tired after having to fight my way out of the vault. Vault security, despite their reputation, wasn't that difficult to get through. But there was enough to give me a few bruises and a killer headache. All I wanted was to find a safe place to sleep.

I pulled out my 10 mm, the standard issue pistol vault security carried, which I had confiscated from one of their dead bodies. I didn't know what could be lurking around out here. The stash I had found was proof that, despite this being a barren wasteland, someone was surviving out here. I didn't know what to expect from them: bullets or a warm welcome, I wasn't going to be unprepared. The pistol felt foreign in my hands, despite the quick acquaintance we had acquired with each other during my escape. Beyond a BB gun my father had given me, I'd never used or held a weapon. Though I had no doubts I would become very acquainted with it over the next few days.

The school loomed ever closer, a colossal beast wearing a cloak of shadows, jagged teeth in the form of steel beams and other rubble, all nightmares playing at my mind, I knew. Everything I saw was new to me, scary and dangerous despite what I had learned of the outside world down in the vault. Everything was out to kill me. That was what had been drilled into my head as a child: the entire world was out to kill me. The vault was the only safe place. Fuck them. They were going to suffocate themselves in there. Dispelling the fears plaguing my thoughts, I continued on toward the school with my pistol held out in a shaking hand. Despite my preparations for the unknown, the bullet that grazed my arm had my heart leaping out of my throat. Dropping to the ground in a pitiful attempt to hide behind the rubble strewn across the ground, I berated myself for traveling around in the night. That was when the predators lurked. I peeked over my debris cover, looking for the shooter.

Standing about 40 feet away was a tall, dark-skinned man in some strange outfit: pieces of trash all put together to form a mishmash of armor. He was carrying a pistol as well, and calling out taunts.
"Come out, little bitch! There's no point in hidin'."
I raised my pistol slowly and fired. The shot rang in my ears, but I watched as the bullet pierced the mans leg.
"Awww...fuck! Now you pissed me off! Get the fuck out here you little bitch!" The man fired toward my position, and I ducked again behind my cover. Somehow a bullet managed to get through, digging deep into my left shoulder blade. Cringing in pain, I thanked myself for being right-handed. Jumping up from my cover, pistol held defiantly in front of me, I emptied my clip into the man's chest. Miraculously, the rest of his bullets missed me.
Raised voices from within the school alerted me to the danger. I scurried over to the dead man and confiscated his pistol and ammo, as well as a pack of cigarettes from one of his pockets. Unfortunately, there were only two in the box. Before any more bullets could find their way into my skin, I dashed off toward Springvale proper where the shadows would hide me better. From there, I would make my way into the hills.

Trying to keep pressure on my wounded shoulder, I kept my hand plastered over the gunshot wound. The remains of Springvale loomed large before me, and I passed through them without incident. The hills beyond, south of the desecrated town, were upon me before I realized it. I knew I was still losing blood, and if I didn't rest and find a way to stop the bleeding soon it would be too late. But after seeing the metal sign labeled "Megaton" standing over a worn pathway, I knew I had to continue. Wherever this Megaton was, there had to be some sort of shelter. I was running out of options.

I traveled by moonlight, avoiding the rocks and piles of ancient bones that littered the hills as best I could. A dark shape was just visible ahead of me, blotting out the stars along the lower horizon. Small dots of light, too bright and large to be stars of their own, decorated the top of the dark mass. As I approached, I realized that it was a heap of metal, arranged in some sort of circle, though the sides stretched farther back into the darkness than I could see. A robot stood just in front of the wall of metal, and some strange carcasses littered the ground in front of it. Not just any carcasses, I realized as I got closer. Ant carcasses...no, giant ant carcasses. I had learned about most of the life forms of Earth inside the vault, but no one had been out to document what was left after the bombs had dropped. I had certainly never heard of giant ants nearly as large as a full grown human.

"Welcome to Megaton," said the robot in its odd metallic voice. I recognized the robot as the standard protectron model, a pre-war model created by RobCo. "The bomb is perfectly safe, we promise. Please hold for threat level assessment. Threat level minimal. Open the gates. Open the gates. Welcome to Megaton." I hardly heard what the robot said, and the words "bomb" and "threat level minimal" hardly registered in my mind at the time. My focus was on the great spinning fan located at the top of the wall, spinning noisily, and two giant slabs of metal lifting up off the ground to reveal a metal gate beyond. I marched toward the gate, hoping for rest and civilization at last. Fumbling over some sort of debris, I fell face-first onto the hard desert ground. Sleep, suddenly, seemed more important than anything else.

End Time - 11:40 p.m.