Fan Fiction: The Enclave

[Dracon M'Alkir]

The constant noise of the Vertibird engines was getting into my head. I have spent countless weeks serving people that I will never meet and slaughtering the innocent. Many times sergeant Shepherd would simply order a village eradicated without even resorting to politics. During my training my instructor had always taught us to shoot first and ask questions later. When I was first instated into the Enclave, they gave me strict orders that if any of the technology we have would fall into the hands of something or someone in the wastelands; I was to take my own life or to die trying to get it back. Personally, if we would share our knowledge with those worthy enough, we could be capable of rebuilding the human race. The president and most of my teammates don’t see that though. The president built the mighty vaults in order to observe them as an experiment. Recently, I’ve heard about an overseer who failed his mission in the 13th Vault. I would have always liked to meet the man that they sent out for the water chip, but that is not possible. One thing I need to suggest to the genius who built these suits, is a zipper or something like one. Every time I need to take a piss I have to enter in a serial number which is randomly generated, and by the time I enter it, I feel like my genitals will explode. This is generally not allowed by my leader, but I admit to breathing the wasteland air. While my teammates are busy locating coordinates or such, I would deactivate the built in oxygen supply and breathe the wasteland air. I think it’s a complete waste of resources to filter and compress air only to breathe it outside. This saved my life once when the Vertibird I was on suddenly caught fire and everyone’s oxygen supplies were low. I almost got court marshaled when they asked me how I still had 90% of the oxygen in my tanks. To those who are wondering about the TMA-92 Mark 7 Power Armor suit, there’s not much to describe about it. There’s like two feet of space in-between the end of your hands and feet inside the suit. You’re actually suspended in midair inside the suit, and when you try to get out, most of the time you’ll fall down. In training, they also taught us how to get in and out of the suits moderately fast, and what they mean is sixty seconds. I’m telling you this now, if you get into the suit backwards, you’re going to have a long day at the chiropractor. Well, that’s already 15 megabytes wasted on this holodisk. It’s time to close the application before we land. We’re supposed to go to some place called “Arooyo” or something like that and seize all of the people there for interrogation.

HoloDisk Entry – May 20, 2242

What in the friggin hell? We spent 6 hours flying to some sort of primitive village? Is the president some sort of retard? Anyway, before I go completely berserk, I just want to describe what happened. We landed in that Arroyo place, and my squad was given orders via radio to kill everyone who resists capture. They were freaking tribals for crying out loud! We came with a full squad fully loaded with miniguns and what not to take tribals? I tried reasoning with some woman who seemed to collect flint stones, but she simply spit in my face and then tried throwing rocks at me. I guess anyone who is ten feet tall doesn’t really seem too friendly. I recall her saying something about “The Chosen One” coming to kill us all. Then one of my squad members was holding an elderly woman on his shoulder and she was also screaming something about “The Chosen One”. The only person I could really talk to for five minutes before he tried spitting at me or something else was person named Lucas. Then of course, he threw a spear at me but nonetheless I cracked it in half. A elderly man wearing some sort of antlers made a run for it, and my squad members instantly began to shoot me. The elderly man was wrapped around my leg saying that the gods will favor me If I spare his life. I told him to run as fast as he can, and he ran across a rickety bridge. One of my squad members landed a shot in his spine, and I cut the bridge so they wouldn’t completely kill him. The squad leader sweared at me for letting one of the Tribals live, but I convinced him that the shot was fatal and that he would die soon. After killing more than 30 people, we loaded the remainder of them into the Vertibird. I absolutely hated looking at them. It was as if somebody rammed a stick of ice through my heart. We were worse than slavers. As I looked through the back of the Veritbird, I saw a gray car approaching the destroyed bridge. A young fellow came out with some sort of gray suitcase. At that point, the Veritbird ascended too high for me to see him anymore. Most of the Tribals were swearing at us, and the ones that weren’t were trying to break free from the electronic handcuffs. I so badly wish that I could let them go, but if I even moved a muscle, I would instantly be slaughtered or hunted down by my own teammates. I fucking hate the president.
HoloDisk Entry – June 1, 2242

Once we arrived at the base, we attached the electronic handcuffs together to make a sort of “slave line”. The pilot of the Veritbird came out and gave us specific orders to bring the Tribals into the detention cells. Something in the back of my mind was telling me that somebody was coming after us. I could tell. Once again, I see innocent people being treated harshly for no reason. That is, because we were hitting them with cattle prods, even though they didn’t do anything. I didn’t really have a choice about being where I am. You can’t possibly imagine how badly I would just like to run off with a Veritbird and start a normal city with educated people, not corrupted politicians. We walked past our scout, Chris who was court marshaled for disobeying orders. As I looked at his sad face, I could see myself wearing those purple robes also. My squad approached the gate and I punched in the serial that was transmitted to my suit. The mighty gates retracted and showed the full glory, or that is hatred of our sacred base; Navarro. Our base was named Colusa at one point, but after a unanimous agreement on the behalf of the board they renamed it Navarro. I’ve read certain books in the library that mentioned Navarro being a city in Texas before the Great War. That is most likely a lie though. Anyway, I let the rest of my squad lead the prisoners to the detention center and I went to sergeant shepherd. I heard his usual speech about how are missions are “the utmost importance to humanity” and “rebuilding our entire structure” but I simply can’t see how killing primitive people is an importance to humanity and “rebuilding our structure” when we are destroying it. I told the sergeant about “The Chosen One” but he simply laughed at me and said it’s probably some sort of god the Tribals had come up with. Despite what anyone had to say, I believed that somebody was going to kick their asses, real good. When that moment would come, I could side amongst him and help kick their scum asses. My shift was practically over so I went to get some coffee. I took my suit off in the armory and put my regular private uniform on. As I walked down the halls many people congratulated me on today’s success. I simply forced a fake smile at them and kept walking. It wasn’t a success; it was a disgrace to the Enclave. I kept on thinking what life was like without all of these conveniences we had in Navarro. No beds, no warmth, no hot water. Yet, we have all of these things and our sole mission is to take them away from others. I finally reached the cafeteria and opened the door. To my luck, there was no coffee left. I went up to the bar and asked for a turkey sandwich. I already knew that it wasn’t really turkey; it was something the scientists simply cooked up that made it taste like turkey. Turkey or not, it was still good. I bought myself a cup of hot chocolate and decided to take some Rad-X to keep my mind off things. There were many drug abusers in Navarro, but I wasn’t one of them. I knew that Rad-X was to prevent getting radiated, but it also gets rid of headaches. I don’t know how I can sleep with all of these things on my mind, but Rad-X always helps. I’m going to my quarters now to get some rest. </poweroff holodisk>

HoloDisk Entry – June 2, 2242

It was nearly 5 in the morning when the entire base suddenly shook. Small particles of dust came from the ceiling and the entire base went on alert. When I went to the armory, my suit of power armor was stolen. I quickly ran to locker and forced my plasma rifle out and ran towards the elevator. As the elevator went up, I jammed in micro fusion cell and charged the rifle. I saw somebody in my suit of power armor with a holodisk in his hand. There were three other men behind him, one dressed in leather armor, the other two I couldn’t determine. One of them had a bone through his nose and looked like the Tribals we had capture the other day. The person in my armor took a quick glance at me and kept running towards the gates. Most of the guards around the area were dead, and two Veritbirds lay in pieces around the base. I think that’s “The Chosen One.” I ran after him and told him to stop. He stared at me and then all of a sudden pulled out a rifle and shot me. As I fell to the ground watching everything get more and more blurry, I couldn’t help but think “I was supposed to join him, I was supposed to escape.” Then everything went pitch black.



HoloDisk Entry – June 9, 2242

I awoke in the infirmary. There was an IV tube stuck into my arm and a health monitor was beating to my heart rate. I looked quickly at my chest and saw a line scar. A doctor walked in and said “You’re damn lucky to be alive. No man takes a 2mm EC to the chest and survives.” I couldn’t help but think “Where the hell did that guy get a Gauss Rifle?” The doctor removed the IV from my arm and I cringed in pain. The needle was around 6 inches long. “We’ve been monitoring your brain functions and it seems that you are malfunctioning.” The doctor said. “We’re sorry but those who malfunction must be expelled, and those who are expelled must be terminated.” With that, the doctor gave me my suit and said “Listen, for all those favors you’ve done for me in the past, I’ll give you sixty seconds, and then I’ll call the guards. Run.” I couldn’t believe it. I was kicked out of the Enclave for getting shot? Now I’m convinced. The leaders really are retarded. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me out of the gate and past Chris. I was now completely alone in the wasteland, without anything except this holodisk. </disable holodisk>

 

[Quiet_one]

Very Cool start!! I hope there is more. Did you post for constructive criticism or just to share?

Keep it going!

 

[Dracon M'Alkir]

Actually a little bit of both. The original purpose is to share, but constructive critisism is welcome also. Here's the next part:

HoloDisk Entry – June 27, 2242

For the last couple of days, I spent my time crossing the wasteland. I had remembered from my teachings that we were located near the western side of what used to be “California” and that my best bet would be to proceed east. Well, I have been traveling east for eighteen days, and out of those eighteen days I have finally found some life in the wasteland. There was a small ransacked building in the middle of nowhere with a giant side on the side that read “Stables”. There were two guards near the gate, one dressed in a leather jacket made from unknown leather, and another man with a crude form of metal armor. They both wore red bandanas across their foreheads. “Just what the fuck do you want, boy?” one of the guards shouted. “This is Mordino’s property, so unless you got something to say boy, I’m going to pump your head so full of lead, you’ll spend three weeks taking it out.” I told the guard that I didn’t want any trouble and I asked him about any populated areas around this warehouse. He glared at me strangely and said “Aren’t you stupid boy? New Reno is down south, the biggest fun house you’ll ever stumble upon in this forsaken wrench.” I asked him about what happens in New Reno and he told me about some sort of illegal miracle drug called “Jet”. He said that the sole inventor lived in the basement of this warehouse. I asked him to come inside, and he told me that I could as long as I left the slaves alone. As I walked into that room, images of the Tribals back in Navarro flashed inside my head. I was no longer in the Enclave, I could do something now. I opened a giant garage door inside of the warehouse and there was a bald woman in a doctor’s suit. “What do you want? You’re wasting my time.” She said. I told her I wanted to see the inventor of the “Jet” drug. “You want to see old Myron? He’s just down that ladder. Don’t waste his time, and one more thing. If you try anything, the guards will toast your ass faster than you can scream.” I climbed down the rusty, slimy, ladder and saw mechanized doors as in the Enclave. I thought that just maybe, this “Myron” would know something more than the inbreds upstairs. As I approached his door the guards stopped me. “What do you want?” one of them said. I told them that the bald lady upstairs sent me to get some more Jet for the slaves. The guard looked at a watch on his left hand and said “You got 5 minutes. If you’re not out in 5 minutes, I’m coming in there and we’ll scrape whatever is left of you off of the walls.” I walked inside and an intelligent looking fellow in a smock turned towards me. “Just who the fuck might you be? Goldie-locks in an army uniform, Ha-ha-ha!” I asked him if he created Jet and he told me that he made all sorts of drugs for the Mordino family. I asked him about the Mordino family, and he gave me the same sort of strange look as the guard outside. He said that the Mordino family was the most powerful mafia in all of New Reno and if I wanted to survive, I should agree. I agreed with him temporarily. “Your uniform is too.. Official, you can’t possibly be from the wastelands. What organization are you from?” I lied to him and said that I was from a town to the west. “Hah, you dumbass, the only town that wears squeaky-clean uniforms like yours is Vault City. Don’t lie to me.” I asked him where Vault City was and he shrugged simply saying that it’s northeast. “Listen, Myron. I’m going to be brief with you. The government is corrupted and they plan to destroy all of California. You look like a person that understands a small amount greater than the people upstairs. If you join me, the Mordino family will then realize how truly valuable you really are.” I said. Myron rubbed his chin and talking to himself, said “Yes.. Yes.. That could work out. You really have a way with words, even if you are some scum from Vault City. But, that can’t be true. Most of the people in Vault City are selfish, you.. Care about people.” We began to leave the stables when one of the guards stopped us and said “Myron, you can’t leave the Mordino family. The Mordino family owns you. Anyone who is disowned is killed. That means you must die.” The guard had a wicked smile on his face as he pulled out a desert eagle. He pressed it against my head and before he could say anything, I kicked him in his foreleg. He yelped in pain and dropped the gun. I got behind him and put the gun to his head and faced the other guard. “Drop the weapon, or I will execute the hostage!” I shouted. With a slightly scared look, the other guard wearing metal armor slowly placed his sub-machine gun on the ground. He started laughing and walked towards me. “How stupid do you have to be to try to take over the stables when the guards inside are within earshot.” I glared at him in the eyes, and threw the first guard at him. Myron hid behind a tree, and I ran towards the sub-machinegun on the ground. The guard with the metal armor pulled out a knife and threw it at me, but missed at stuck it in the ground. I took the SMG, and I filled him full of bullets. Then I quickly grabbed the knife out of the ground and went to the other guard in the leather jacket. He put his fists in front of him, in fighting style. I waited for him to do the first move. He charged at me, but I pinned him against the fence and shoved the knife through the bottom of his jaw. It went straight through his jaw, piercing his tongue, and I pulled it out. He slumped to the ground and began to bleed a pool of blood. The guards inside hear the gunshots and ran towards me. I sprinted to Myron, grabbed him, and forced us to run as fast as we could. The guards didn’t catch up to us. After running for about 45 minutes, I dropped to the ground and tried to catch my breath. Myron slumped over a tree with his hand on the side and tried to catch his breath also. I couldn’t save those slaves in the Stables. I was too weak. I am a failure. I punched my fist into the sand and began to cry. I saw something dangling on my belt. It was a small pouch, with a note attached. The note read “Just in case, - TCO” I opened up the pouch, and it was filled with golden coins. There were probably a hundred of them, or more. How I didn’t see this pouch before was beyond me. I thought to myself “TCO.. TCO.. TCO.. Who could be TCO?” I wished so badly I still had my suit of power armor. I would just open up the wireless library archives and search for TCO. God damn that chosen.. Then it hit me. “THE CHOSEN ONE!” But why would “The Chosen One” leave me a bunch of golden coins? I just shook it off, and put the leather pouch in my pocket. It’s getting dark. I need some sleep. </holodisk logoff>

HoloDisk Entry – June 28, 2242

I awoke completely covered in sand. As I opened my eyes, the sun greeted me with an abnormally hot glare. Myron was still sleeping, and there were a family of rats sniffing his body. I crouched behind his body, and pulled of my Desert Eagle. With lightning speed, I managed to shoot three of them without the others noticing. The other three began to run. I shot two, and missed the third one. I shot the last one, and pulled my trigger again by accident. It clicked. I had wasted the entire clip killing rats. I pulled the magazine out, and check it just in case. Yup, 7 bullets wasted. Then I began to scour the area for dry twigs or anything that is flammable. I found an old can of Gasoline that only had a couple of ounces of gas in it. I brought the can and the twigs back near Myron, and put all of the twigs in a pile. I saw a tree in the distance, but it was so hot that the air was waving. By the time I’d come back from collecting wood, the rats would probably be deep-fried. I approached the orange tree, and began to cut off small branches with my knife. That’s all there was to this tree, small branches. It looked like a piece of abstract art you would see in a museum, in wasteland language: “really fucked up.” I found a mutated form of cactus and sliced the entire top half off. There was a tiny colony of maggots living inside of it, drinking the pus that it made. I returned to Myron with around two pounds of orange sticks and put them into the pile with the dry branches. I then collected a bunch of desert weeds and place them under the heap of wood, if it even is wood. I then bolted the whole thing with gasoline and began to rub two orange sticks together. After two minutes, the gas got hot enough and the entire thing set on fire. The weed gave off a kind of hissing sound and white smoke emerged. The smell of the smoke was absolutely disgusting. I remembered my two years in anatomy class and began to cut off the edible parts of a rat. I placed it on one of the orange sticks that wasn’t in the heap and began to cook the rat on the fire. Myron woke up from the disgusting smell of the smoke, and rubbed his eyes. He yawned and sniffed the rat cooking. “Well, it’s not Brahmin, but we have to eat.” He said. I asked him to explain what Brahmin was, and he said it was a life form that had two heads. Somewhere in my readings, I remember a thing called “a cow” and the “Brahmin” he was describing sounded just like one. I threw him the stick with the cooked rat on it, and he took a huge chunk out of it. “Kind of hard.. to chew you know.. but tastes okay.” Myron said. I took another stick and stuck a chunk of rat on it then began to cook it also. “So, what’s your name, guy?” “I don’t have a name.” I said. “What!? How can you not have a name? Ok, then what did they call you back from wherever you came.” “My codename was Dark-Legacy.” I said. Myron said that “Dark-Legacy” was a fake name, and decided to call me “guy” from now on. I still remember how they gave us codenames. My best friend was given “Odin” and the rest of my teammates other names like “Fire-fox”, “Death-Dragon” and things like that. I was at least lucky I didn’t get a dumb name like “Velcro”. The Enclave had a way of codenaming everything, even if it was absolutely obvious. They would absolutely have to make a complicated name for a weapon, and a really dumb name for a plant. Grass would be something like “Soylent Green”. I prefer to use English, not the retarded language the leaders use. Once again, I fucking hate the president. I finished my rat and packaged the rest of the rat’s meat in a zip-loc bag that I found nearby. Anyway, I began to tread east on my usual trail. </logoff holodisk>

 

[Retlaw83]

Good concept, but there's too much telling and not enough showing. When I read it, I feel like you're saying, "This happened, then this happened, and then that happened." Writing a story - especially in journal form - is tricky. A good thing to keep in mind, though, is to use details to show what happened.

Stories deal with the specific. There's a difference between breaking a spear and cracking it in half and then tossing the useless weapon at your attacker's feet; a difference between a Ziploc bag found nearby and a filthy, discarded Ziploc bag that has been ravaged by the decades.

 

[Dracon M'Alkir]

Thanks for the tips, Retlaw83!

I will keep them in mind for the next part, and rewrite the previous section (possibly).

I'm not too good of a writer, but practice makes perfect.

Regards,
DarkLegacy

 

[Retlaw83]

Only way to get better is to keep writing.

 

[Quiet_one]

Doing fine, room for improvement, but you don't see me writing anything do you?

He slumped to the ground and began to bleed a pool of blood.

Keep any eye out for this kind of description. When you are dealing with humans and animals, you can reasonably assume that they are bleeding blood. It's kind of redundant to bleed blood, into a pool or otherwise. For other types of creatures (Mutants, Glowing Ones, Abominations, etc...), we really don't know what kind of blood they have so more description would be necessary. If you are not sure about a sentence, read it aloud to your self.

He slumped to the ground, his blood pooling beneath him.
As he slumped to the ground, his blood poured from his chin in spurts timed to the rhythm of his heart.

haha, I'm not even close to being a writer, but I'm a pretty good reader. Again, you are doing fine. Keep it up.

 

[Dracon M'Alkir]

HoloDisk Entry – July 4th, 2242

After walking what seemed to be an eternity in the wastelands, I found a small town with not many inhabitants. After talking to a few locals, I learned that the name of the town was “Broken Hills” and it is the only town in existence with a friendship between humans and mutants. Personally, I had never seen an actual mutant, but I have read about them in various references in my studies. According to the library, mutants are created by forced evolution or from exposure to radiation. There isn’t much in this shady little town, but it’s the first somewhat populated place in 30 miles. “Welcome to Broken Hills, make sure to keep your weapons unloaded, and be respectful.” A greeting guard announced. Myron was looking around the town in an attempt to find something worth being scientifically evaluated. I asked the greeter where I could find some weapons and he pointed towards a broken-down building with a big signed welded on that said “General Store.” As I opened the creaky door, rusty bell jingled and the woman at the counter put down her book and glared at me. “My name’s Liz, what can I do ya with?” I showed her my Desert Eagle and the coins that I had saved in my pocket. She took a hard look at one of the coins and “Yup, that’s real. I’ve got some stuff you might like over on the tables.” She came out from behind the counter and walked to the table which was filled with old, dirty bags probably from before the war. She pulled out a bunch of guns, bullets, and spread them across the table. I saw a gun that resembled a hunting rifle with a dark brown wooden grip. I picked it up and looked through the crosshair. “Weston .253 Premium Hunting Rifle” Liz said. “ I’ll give you a special deal, you give me your knife, deagle, 40 coins and I’ll make that rifle the best piece of work you’ve seen. Ammo included of course.” I took the Desert Eagle from underneath my uniform coat and handed it to her. Then I gave her the rest of the stuff she asked for. The leather pouch that used to be so full, now felt a lot less heavy. “Sit down and wait a while, it’ll take around 10 minutes.” She brought me plastic chair that looked like it was going to break apart soon. I sat in it and leaped up from fright sometimes when it croaked. Liz came back with the rifle but she added a scope on it. It was steel with a red tinted lens. “Here you go, and the clip is full also.” Myron was shuffling around the store looking at mysterious pieces of junk, usually old computer hardware. I asked Liz for a suit of armor, and gave her my SMG. She went to an old rusty closet and took out a suit of leather armor. The leather armor was yellow, professionally sown, and it was probably from Brahmin hides because it smelled like one. I placed the armor over my uniform and buttoned it up. It felt like a piece of soft plastic. “Anything else you need, fella?” Liz asked. I bought a leather strap from her for 15 coins and attached it to my hunting rifle to serve as a sling. I slung the rifle over my shoulder, and unwittingly saluted Liz. Myron found a piece of junk that he wanted badly, and paid 10 coins for it. Whatever he bought, it must have just been sentimental value because his face was beaming and it was in fact a piece of junk. Outside of the shop, there was a short man with red frizzled hair. He was bending over looking at rocks on the ground. Further down I saw a strange creature that I had never seen before. He had warts all over his unearthly face and some sort of headgear with lens on it. Besides him being butt ugly, the thing that was freaking me out the most is that he was leaning on a minigun! A minigun, in working condition in the middle of the wasteland! “Anything you need, traveler?” he said. I jumped back in horror. While staring at him like a deer staring at headlights, I gathered up the courage to ask him if he had heard of a person called “The Chosen One.” He said that “The Chosen One” had passed not too long ago and he pointed south. He also mentioned that his name was Marcus, and that he was the sheriff of Broken Hills. Myron couldn’t help but writing down his facial features on a piece of ravaged paper. “Scientist, if you’re looking for something in your field, go see that guy downtown. I don’t know what kind of experiments he does, but it might be of interest to you.” We headed downtown and entered the scientist’s house. “Ahh yes, yes, yes! New testers! How may I help you today, I’m sorry about the mess, but I’ve been testing new products on these radscorpions.” The scientist shuffled through a couple of closets looking for something. “Here you go, a sample of my most famous product: Mentats. They will make you smarter for a short duration, but there are some side effects.” “What kind of side effects?” I asked. “After a while, your brain functions decrease, but it’s only temporary, a simple oversight, that’s all.” Myron had seemed to be intrigued by this scientist, and began to ask him the formula for mentats and what kind of experiments he performed on the radscorpion. “Mr… what’s your name?” he said. “DarkLegacy.” I answered. “Mr. DarkLegacy, would you please test your lockpicking skills against my radscorpion here?” I followed the scientist to two metal chests. He pulled out a stopwatch from his pocket and shouted GO! I picked up the rusty lockpick off of the ground and placed it into the gloomy chest hole. Twist left, push; twist right, pull, and pop. “Excellent! 28 seconds.” I heard another pop. “Amazing, 29 seconds for the radscorpion.” I was in shock. “What’s amazing is that he managed to unlock a chest with a tail!” I said. The radscorpion looked at me with its beady black eyes and began to chuckle. “Your work is really groundbreaking here. How did you ever manage to put some intelligence into a radscorpion?” The scientist grinned with pride. “The same chemicals I used to make Mentats. I simply liquefied them into an injectable form and injected them into the radscorpion.” I told the scientist goodbye, and Myron said goodbye aswell. As we were leaving his house, the ground shook terribly. The air was filled with tiny pebbles coming from a mine entrance in the cliff to the east. Dozens of mutants ran out in miner’s outfits only to be slaughtered by the rocky rain. I quickly pulled Myron with me into a nearby well, and the top was shut by a boulder. “Oh great, you dumbass, now we’re stranded in this shitty well.” Myron shouted. As I looked into the darkness beneath us, I noticed that there was something weird about the bottom. I shot a round into the darkness, and the bullet ricocheted hitting the boulder. “You fucking idiot, you could of just hit yourself in the head, or worse, me!” There was indeed something wrong. I descended down the well using the ladder attached to the side. It was an underground tunnel. The tunnel ranged for about 2 miles as far as I could see, and there were torches neatly aligned on the wall. “Myron, you have to come see this” I shouted up the well. Myron came down, and gasped when he saw the tunnel. Then I saw an uncanny sight, there was a skeleton on the path, holding something really firmly in his hand. I tried to open his hand, but he was holding it so tight that I accidentally ripped his hand off. It was a crumpled piece of paper soaked in blood. It read “Whoever comes down this path, bewares the silent beast. From blood he brought, the death he seek, fear the Deathclaw.” Whatever this “deathclaw” was, it gave that poor man a quick death. The walls were lined with scratch marks and blood stains all around. “I think we should go back, I don’t like this.” Myron squealed. As we reached the end of the tunnel an extremely putrid smell was in the air. “God damn it, did you fart guy?” Myron said. Then we came to a sight that the note warned us of. There was a large room, with a whole bunch of eggs. On the top of a ramp there was an enormous orangeish creature with great horns and teeth. I dropped the crumpled note on the ground, and cocked my rifle. Here comes the swarm. An entire flock of tiny creatures rampaged towards me and Myron. Myron fled back towards the ladder not looking back. I began to chase after him, and shot the tiny creatures while running. I hit one in the head, and saw it’s brains leak out of it’s head. It squealed with a cry of agony in it’s voice. The other small creatures began to gnaw and dismember their fallen. I could see why the note said “they were brought from blood.” These “deathclaw” creatures or whatever they were called ate their wounded. I hit another one in the leg, and they began to eat him also. Then I hit two more. The deathclaws just kept gnawing at each other until all of them were in a puddle of blood. Then a large bulky deathclaw came out screeching so loud that the walls were shaking. It looked sadly at the dead tiny deathclaws and looked at us angrily. Myron couldn’t help but stop halfway up the ladder because of the screeches. It was the deathclaw mother. “I’m really, really sorry. We got lost, and we’ll leave now.” I said. The giant deathclaw simply scratched the ground with her feet and let out a jetstream of air. “Shit shit shit! The boulder! We’re trapped guy!” Myron shouted. Then, a beam of light emerged from behind me. Myron screamed and then a mutant wearing some sort of weird armor leaped down the well. It was Marcus. The giant deathclaw charged at me, and he stopped it with his hands. “Run!” Marcus shouted. I climbed up the ladder as quick as I could and pulled myself out. I heard the valiant struggle on the bottom of the well, and then there was silence. Both Myron and I looked into the opening to see the victor, but there was only silence. Then a bloody Marcus climbed up the ladder and we helped pull him out. He came out of the well and slumped to the ground. I noticed a large scratch mark on his chest, and a river of blood was pouring out. He slumped to the ground and lay there still. “Myron, quick call the scientist! Call Liz! Call somebody!” I shouted. Myron ran to the scientist and brought him back. The scientist took a stimpack and injected it into Marcus, but he was still bleeding. “The wound is too deep, we need a surgeon to stop the bleeding” the scientist shouted. He grabbed my shoulders and said “Do you know anything about surgery?” “I only know human anatomy and I have no tools.” I replied. He told me to pretend that Marcus was a human and he brought back a bag full of pre-war surgeon tools. I looked into the wound carefully and saw that one of his arteries was popped. I quickly stitched it back together and the bleeding stopped. Marcus cringed in pain and rolled over. I took a piece of cloth and wrapped it around his wound to prevent infection. Then I took another stimpack and injected it into him. All three of us carried him back to his bed. Whew, it was a long day. </logoff holodisk>