welsh
Junkmaster
Very enjoyable
This is all very enjoyable stuff. I hope it ties together.
I really liked the Skynet bit.
This is all very enjoyable stuff. I hope it ties together.
I really liked the Skynet bit.
The "Vault" -- Mini-Series, updated regularly.
- Thread starter Brian Lim
- Start date
(good guess, thought the 'home and native land' thing would give it away... anybody figure out what gun the guy was using to tear apart the v-bird?)
Chapter Six : Hiking and Haven
---------------------------------------
It took months living with a sympathetic farmer to heal the wound in my arm. I bleed alot, and I heal even slower. Near the middle, I started doing chores around the farm. He usually hired locals to do the work, and was more than happy to have me pay off my debt. So, I could have left early. But I didn't. And the farmer rewarded me with directions and a cart full of provisions. "You're one of the most honest people I've met son. And I don't think I've ever met someone who knew as much about pre-war history."
Each day seemed to meld into the next. I would pack up my camping gear and start hiking, taking short breaks every few hours. It became a sort of ritual when I passed someone on the road. I would go to one side of the road, and the merchant to the other. Because, only merchants or bandits needed to travel this far out. The merchant and his guards would keep their eye on me, their hands on distinct firepower. In the weeks (or was it months?) that I travelled, each day I woke up earlier, if only by a little, and took longer hikes before breaks. The villages and small towns I did stop by were glad for my business, and even glader to have me go on my way. I ended up trading everything, even most of my clothing and the cart. I started carrying my provisions on my back. It was easier to jog with just a backpack on than with a rickety wooden wheelbarrow. I kept my guns though.
And I kept my map.
I had reached the last marking on my map. I knew that there was more, since the top was ripped. The town was situated in the outskirts of one of the pre-war cities. It was one of the enigimas -- most of the heavily populated areas had been destroyed by the nukes, and most of the smaller populated areas had simply disappeared after the war. This one must have been somewhere in between, and was bustling with activity. Trappers brought in furs and went through hour long customs checks and tarriffs. Anyone caught selling furs near the city without a permit was shot.
Fur was a very hot commodity. Especially since the temperature frequently went below freezing. I had traded one of my guns to a merchant a while back for a large fur coat, fur gloves, fur pants, fur boots, and a fur "ski-mask" of sorts. Now, standing in line rubbing my hands together and feeling warm and fuzzy, I was glad I had taken the trouble to haul the bulky hides for over a month in warm weather. The line moved forward. I passed a man in a snowbank in fetal position. He was stripped almost naked, and had been shot in the head.
The waiting was not so bad. Burning oil barrels were placed every ten feet or so. I wondered what they burned, then I looked around. There were no trees at all. There were no trees as far as I could see. Maybe, but that still didn't explain how they kept such a large town alive in such a harsh climate. Until I looked in the barrel. It wasn't wood. It seemed to be burning out of its own accord, and even when large gusts of wind blew snow into the barrels, the heat quickly turned the snow into steam. So this was it, some sort of pre-war tech keeping this oaisis in the middle of a white desert alive. Electric? No, nothing I had read about could last so long in such bleak weather. Then what?
"Hey move along you holding the line up." The man behind shoved me into quite a muscular man in shiny silver armour. The man in silver armour pushed me back. "You got a problem stranger? Fur tax... one of those guns there."
"I'm sorry, the man behind pushed me into you. I thought fur for personal use wasn't taxed."
"Law's changed. Pay or leave or be like him." He pointed to the naked body in the snow bank.
I unloaded one of my pistols and placed the clip in my waterproof pouch. He snatched the gun away from me. "Keep your nose clean in Haven stranger, I know the merchants and you ain't one of them. You ain't one of the locals either. So you must be a fool." He pushed me forward again through the circular entrance, and I almost lost my balance. I looked around.
I was inside a cylindrical container. There were two display screens, both broken, with their touchpads wrecked. The light from behind ended, and I was bathed in a blue florescent light. I looked behind, and it was as if there had been no opening. "Standby for decontamination for Vault entry." Vault! I barely had a second to think before the door in front of me turned green. The green light slowly advanced forward, and I braced myself against the back of the container. I screamed as the methodical light passed through me, and stood up red-faced when I realized that I was still alive. The snow was gone. All of it. My skin felt as dry as if I had come in after suntanning. "Don't worry, you're still alive." The front of the container opened smoothly, and I was momentarily blinded by light.
Two large arms grabbed me on either side and threw me on my ass. I was sitting on concrete. Dry, warm concrete. The whole intersection was dry, with people walking around in dry summer clothes. No fur. There were merchants walking around with carts full of fur. But they weren't wearing it. "Is this a Vault?"
"You really are new, aren't you?" A woman in a tight white tank-top and long jean shorts picked me up. I was instantly hard. "You aren't a mercenary. You aren't a bounty hunter. You aren't a merchant. You aren't a killer or a criminal. You certainly don't live here."
"Are you the overseer?"
She laughed. "Yes, I oversee this bunch of goons. No this isn't a vault. Been wanting to get rid of that voice in the snow melter forever, but haven't gotten around to it. It came from a vault, if that's what you're asking." My eyes had adjusted to the light and I noticed that the woman was quite a bit older. She brushed her grey hair back. "Information is going to cost you. That fur cap." I took off my "cap" and gave it to her. "Oh, good, it's the ski-mask variety. For that you get five minutes."
"What is this place?"
"This is Haven, northern-most settlement of any consequence stranger. We have a population of two thousand and don't tolerate outsiders very well."
"Why did you think I was a bounty hunter, criminal or killer?"
"Criminals of the hard kind flee the law to the south. I hear they're busy reestablishing some sort of government down there. Anyway, some of the most wanted ones run as far as they can, and Haven is as far north as it goes."
"So why do you let them in?"
"Our settlement thrives on trade. We can't survive on the usual Brahmin stock -- its simply too cold outside, and there isn't enough space in the dome. So we actively encourage outsiders to do their business here, as long as they don't cause trouble."
"Why the emphasis on fur?"
"Well, if you notice, we got some pretty fancy lighting... even the 'gas' barrels outside are lit by some pre-war tech. Close as I can tell, there is something in the hides that the techs use to power their lighting devices. That, and the outside climate, and the fact that the animals are as numerous as pests outside make it the number one commodity in Haven. We never get enough hide around here, and always have to cut down on power expenditure."
"Why is it so warm in here, and why is the sky blue?"
"The sky's not real hon. It's painted on. People go outside and shovel the snow to keep the 'roof' dome from collapsing. As far as I know, the techs use the same lighters to light and heat the whole city, maybe you should ask them about it."
"Where did you get the Vault airlock from?"
One of the brutes in silver armour approached her, and she nodded. "Well, time's up. If you want cheap lodging, try the Newfolk's Inn. They accept coin as well as fur -- looks like you need all the fur you have." She walked between the two burly men towards the airlock entrance. I was left sitting on my ass and thinking how I got turned on by a fifty-year old bitch. It hadn't even been five minutes. I stood up and walked down the road. People passed me left and right, evidently all on errands of some sort. The road was well paved and men with wheelbarrows occasionally walked by.
I saw a neon sign "Newfolk's." I crossed the street and headed towards it.
Chapter Six : Hiking and Haven
---------------------------------------
It took months living with a sympathetic farmer to heal the wound in my arm. I bleed alot, and I heal even slower. Near the middle, I started doing chores around the farm. He usually hired locals to do the work, and was more than happy to have me pay off my debt. So, I could have left early. But I didn't. And the farmer rewarded me with directions and a cart full of provisions. "You're one of the most honest people I've met son. And I don't think I've ever met someone who knew as much about pre-war history."
Each day seemed to meld into the next. I would pack up my camping gear and start hiking, taking short breaks every few hours. It became a sort of ritual when I passed someone on the road. I would go to one side of the road, and the merchant to the other. Because, only merchants or bandits needed to travel this far out. The merchant and his guards would keep their eye on me, their hands on distinct firepower. In the weeks (or was it months?) that I travelled, each day I woke up earlier, if only by a little, and took longer hikes before breaks. The villages and small towns I did stop by were glad for my business, and even glader to have me go on my way. I ended up trading everything, even most of my clothing and the cart. I started carrying my provisions on my back. It was easier to jog with just a backpack on than with a rickety wooden wheelbarrow. I kept my guns though.
And I kept my map.
I had reached the last marking on my map. I knew that there was more, since the top was ripped. The town was situated in the outskirts of one of the pre-war cities. It was one of the enigimas -- most of the heavily populated areas had been destroyed by the nukes, and most of the smaller populated areas had simply disappeared after the war. This one must have been somewhere in between, and was bustling with activity. Trappers brought in furs and went through hour long customs checks and tarriffs. Anyone caught selling furs near the city without a permit was shot.
Fur was a very hot commodity. Especially since the temperature frequently went below freezing. I had traded one of my guns to a merchant a while back for a large fur coat, fur gloves, fur pants, fur boots, and a fur "ski-mask" of sorts. Now, standing in line rubbing my hands together and feeling warm and fuzzy, I was glad I had taken the trouble to haul the bulky hides for over a month in warm weather. The line moved forward. I passed a man in a snowbank in fetal position. He was stripped almost naked, and had been shot in the head.
The waiting was not so bad. Burning oil barrels were placed every ten feet or so. I wondered what they burned, then I looked around. There were no trees at all. There were no trees as far as I could see. Maybe, but that still didn't explain how they kept such a large town alive in such a harsh climate. Until I looked in the barrel. It wasn't wood. It seemed to be burning out of its own accord, and even when large gusts of wind blew snow into the barrels, the heat quickly turned the snow into steam. So this was it, some sort of pre-war tech keeping this oaisis in the middle of a white desert alive. Electric? No, nothing I had read about could last so long in such bleak weather. Then what?
"Hey move along you holding the line up." The man behind shoved me into quite a muscular man in shiny silver armour. The man in silver armour pushed me back. "You got a problem stranger? Fur tax... one of those guns there."
"I'm sorry, the man behind pushed me into you. I thought fur for personal use wasn't taxed."
"Law's changed. Pay or leave or be like him." He pointed to the naked body in the snow bank.
I unloaded one of my pistols and placed the clip in my waterproof pouch. He snatched the gun away from me. "Keep your nose clean in Haven stranger, I know the merchants and you ain't one of them. You ain't one of the locals either. So you must be a fool." He pushed me forward again through the circular entrance, and I almost lost my balance. I looked around.
I was inside a cylindrical container. There were two display screens, both broken, with their touchpads wrecked. The light from behind ended, and I was bathed in a blue florescent light. I looked behind, and it was as if there had been no opening. "Standby for decontamination for Vault entry." Vault! I barely had a second to think before the door in front of me turned green. The green light slowly advanced forward, and I braced myself against the back of the container. I screamed as the methodical light passed through me, and stood up red-faced when I realized that I was still alive. The snow was gone. All of it. My skin felt as dry as if I had come in after suntanning. "Don't worry, you're still alive." The front of the container opened smoothly, and I was momentarily blinded by light.
Two large arms grabbed me on either side and threw me on my ass. I was sitting on concrete. Dry, warm concrete. The whole intersection was dry, with people walking around in dry summer clothes. No fur. There were merchants walking around with carts full of fur. But they weren't wearing it. "Is this a Vault?"
"You really are new, aren't you?" A woman in a tight white tank-top and long jean shorts picked me up. I was instantly hard. "You aren't a mercenary. You aren't a bounty hunter. You aren't a merchant. You aren't a killer or a criminal. You certainly don't live here."
"Are you the overseer?"
She laughed. "Yes, I oversee this bunch of goons. No this isn't a vault. Been wanting to get rid of that voice in the snow melter forever, but haven't gotten around to it. It came from a vault, if that's what you're asking." My eyes had adjusted to the light and I noticed that the woman was quite a bit older. She brushed her grey hair back. "Information is going to cost you. That fur cap." I took off my "cap" and gave it to her. "Oh, good, it's the ski-mask variety. For that you get five minutes."
"What is this place?"
"This is Haven, northern-most settlement of any consequence stranger. We have a population of two thousand and don't tolerate outsiders very well."
"Why did you think I was a bounty hunter, criminal or killer?"
"Criminals of the hard kind flee the law to the south. I hear they're busy reestablishing some sort of government down there. Anyway, some of the most wanted ones run as far as they can, and Haven is as far north as it goes."
"So why do you let them in?"
"Our settlement thrives on trade. We can't survive on the usual Brahmin stock -- its simply too cold outside, and there isn't enough space in the dome. So we actively encourage outsiders to do their business here, as long as they don't cause trouble."
"Why the emphasis on fur?"
"Well, if you notice, we got some pretty fancy lighting... even the 'gas' barrels outside are lit by some pre-war tech. Close as I can tell, there is something in the hides that the techs use to power their lighting devices. That, and the outside climate, and the fact that the animals are as numerous as pests outside make it the number one commodity in Haven. We never get enough hide around here, and always have to cut down on power expenditure."
"Why is it so warm in here, and why is the sky blue?"
"The sky's not real hon. It's painted on. People go outside and shovel the snow to keep the 'roof' dome from collapsing. As far as I know, the techs use the same lighters to light and heat the whole city, maybe you should ask them about it."
"Where did you get the Vault airlock from?"
One of the brutes in silver armour approached her, and she nodded. "Well, time's up. If you want cheap lodging, try the Newfolk's Inn. They accept coin as well as fur -- looks like you need all the fur you have." She walked between the two burly men towards the airlock entrance. I was left sitting on my ass and thinking how I got turned on by a fifty-year old bitch. It hadn't even been five minutes. I stood up and walked down the road. People passed me left and right, evidently all on errands of some sort. The road was well paved and men with wheelbarrows occasionally walked by.
I saw a neon sign "Newfolk's." I crossed the street and headed towards it.
Did this guy die or something? I've been waiting a couple months for an addition to this story....
Carib FMJ
Nuka-Cola Chaser
This is cool stuff man. Real dark and fallout themed.
(been a long time. a year in fact. someone e-mailed me about posting more. wow I have fans 
)
Chapter Seven : Newfolk's and Deal Making
-------------------------------------------------------
Usually I stuck out like a sore thumb. With my newly acquired native garb, I fit right in. The bar had at least six of the "magic barrels" burning -- evidently this section of town was in slight disrepair, or the barrel's wouldn't have been needed to keep out the cold. The bar stools were all occupied, and I had to settle for lurking near the barrels.
"Psst. You a merc?"
I turned and saw a man with a patch over his left eye. He had a long scar across his right cheek and was at least fifty. He was caucasian, five feet tall, and looked unassuming.
"You can say I'm on a quest of sorts.", I said.
Patch-face lifted his patch up. It was some sort of synthetic eye. "If ya have a Pip-Boy, I can upload the details."
"The details of what?"
"You mean you haven't heard?"
"Heard what, I don't have a lot of time. And come to think of it, no, I don't have a Pip-Boy."
"Well sonny, for a merc like you, I'll tell you for free."
"How do you know I'm a merc?"
"Nothing. You know what, I don't think I like you."
He turned away. But I couldn't let him go, not now that he had perked my interest.
"Sir, I'm terribly sorry. Maybe there's a way I can make it up to you."
Patch-face grinned, showing his rotten yellow teeth. "Yes, yes you can. I knew it, you're a total stranger to this town. There's only three reasons someone..."
"...yes, I've heard, you have to be either a mass murderer, a bounty hunter, or a local to get around here.", I interrupted.
"Good. Since you're on the outside, stranger, chances are nobody will tell you about the... auction. And I know you want to go to the auction.", he said.
"Why would I want to go to some silly auction?"
"Because you're looking to get into the vault."
I stiffened. I took a closer look at Patch-face. His voice had softened, and there didn't seem to be any hint of jest in his tone.
"What's a vault?"
"Please. Everybody knows what a vault is. And since you aren't a mass murderer, a bounty hunter, or a local, you must be looking to get into the vault. A treasure hunter."
"You still haven't answered my question.", I said.
"Patience, I was getting to it. Now everybody knows Haven was built on top of a Vault. Its not the same as the vaults down south. This vault, see, was some sort of master vault. Pre-war tech, enough to make a man rich beyond his wildest imagination, lurks below these streets. The vault dwellers, they were all killed by radioation."
"You mean radiation."
"Yes sonny, be quiet. Now to get below, you'd need to be able to survive radioation, not even a mutant could survive. I'm not talking about the upper levels of the vault -- the city has been stripping bare for decades what it could, and the upper levels are as bare as an empty tundra. Nobody's ever been able to get down there. Sometimes, the techs at night hear noises, sounds, like something's haunting..."
"I've had enough of this ghost story." I turned around. Before I could walk away, Patch-face grabbed my arm.
"Listen, treasure-hunter, read this. I only got one hardcopy, and you can have it."
=
FOR ACUTION TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER
AUTHENTIC, PRE-WAR YANKEE POWERED ARMOR
ALSO MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS FOR SALE
NEVER FEAR DEATH AGAIN!
BIDDING STARTS ON THE FOURTH DAY OF THIS MONTH!
=
"That's really nice, but I'm not really the armor wearing type. Besides, didn't you say this city was full of bounty hunters and murderers? I bet they would kill for one of these 'powered armors'"
"Kill, yes. But they wouldn't risk the wrath of the city guards. Turn the page around sonny."
It was picture of a naked woman. No, she wasn't naked actually, but she was wearing a skin-tight white t-shirt that struggled to contain her breasts. Her right hand covered her nipples, and her left hand was perched over her pussy hair, her finger in her vagina. I felt myself go hard right away. I took a closer look at the woman's face. She looked like she was in a trance of some sort, maybe drugged or weak.
=
ALSO INCLUDED IN PURCHASE
ONE AUTHENTIC YANKEE SEX SLAVE
GUARANTEED TO BE THE BEST FUCK YOU'VE EVER HAD
=
"She's pretty. But I still don't get why I need this armor to get into a vault. I've visited plenty of other vaults..."
"Sonny, this isn't the standard T-51b powered armor. It has a standalone, air-filtration system. It's practically a self-contained... self-contained... what was that he called it... space suit." Patch-face smiled, and I wondered if he had understood anything he had just said.
"Okay, so I need the suit to get into the vault's lower levels. Where do you come in?"
"Oh, I don't desire much treasure-hunter. I'll show you how to... acquire the powered armor. You let me fuck that girl silly. And I want... 50%."
"10%. I do all the heavy hitting."
"20%. Without me, you wouldn't have even found out about the auction."
"15%. Without me, you wouldn't be able to get a fuck if you paid for it."
Patch-face snarled. "Deal. Remember what you said. I get to fuck her, preferrably in the ass, as much as I want."
I smiled. "Deal." We shook.
)Chapter Seven : Newfolk's and Deal Making
-------------------------------------------------------
Usually I stuck out like a sore thumb. With my newly acquired native garb, I fit right in. The bar had at least six of the "magic barrels" burning -- evidently this section of town was in slight disrepair, or the barrel's wouldn't have been needed to keep out the cold. The bar stools were all occupied, and I had to settle for lurking near the barrels.
"Psst. You a merc?"
I turned and saw a man with a patch over his left eye. He had a long scar across his right cheek and was at least fifty. He was caucasian, five feet tall, and looked unassuming.
"You can say I'm on a quest of sorts.", I said.
Patch-face lifted his patch up. It was some sort of synthetic eye. "If ya have a Pip-Boy, I can upload the details."
"The details of what?"
"You mean you haven't heard?"
"Heard what, I don't have a lot of time. And come to think of it, no, I don't have a Pip-Boy."
"Well sonny, for a merc like you, I'll tell you for free."
"How do you know I'm a merc?"
"Nothing. You know what, I don't think I like you."
He turned away. But I couldn't let him go, not now that he had perked my interest.
"Sir, I'm terribly sorry. Maybe there's a way I can make it up to you."
Patch-face grinned, showing his rotten yellow teeth. "Yes, yes you can. I knew it, you're a total stranger to this town. There's only three reasons someone..."
"...yes, I've heard, you have to be either a mass murderer, a bounty hunter, or a local to get around here.", I interrupted.
"Good. Since you're on the outside, stranger, chances are nobody will tell you about the... auction. And I know you want to go to the auction.", he said.
"Why would I want to go to some silly auction?"
"Because you're looking to get into the vault."
I stiffened. I took a closer look at Patch-face. His voice had softened, and there didn't seem to be any hint of jest in his tone.
"What's a vault?"
"Please. Everybody knows what a vault is. And since you aren't a mass murderer, a bounty hunter, or a local, you must be looking to get into the vault. A treasure hunter."
"You still haven't answered my question.", I said.
"Patience, I was getting to it. Now everybody knows Haven was built on top of a Vault. Its not the same as the vaults down south. This vault, see, was some sort of master vault. Pre-war tech, enough to make a man rich beyond his wildest imagination, lurks below these streets. The vault dwellers, they were all killed by radioation."
"You mean radiation."
"Yes sonny, be quiet. Now to get below, you'd need to be able to survive radioation, not even a mutant could survive. I'm not talking about the upper levels of the vault -- the city has been stripping bare for decades what it could, and the upper levels are as bare as an empty tundra. Nobody's ever been able to get down there. Sometimes, the techs at night hear noises, sounds, like something's haunting..."
"I've had enough of this ghost story." I turned around. Before I could walk away, Patch-face grabbed my arm.
"Listen, treasure-hunter, read this. I only got one hardcopy, and you can have it."
=
FOR ACUTION TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER
AUTHENTIC, PRE-WAR YANKEE POWERED ARMOR
ALSO MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS FOR SALE
NEVER FEAR DEATH AGAIN!
BIDDING STARTS ON THE FOURTH DAY OF THIS MONTH!
=
"That's really nice, but I'm not really the armor wearing type. Besides, didn't you say this city was full of bounty hunters and murderers? I bet they would kill for one of these 'powered armors'"
"Kill, yes. But they wouldn't risk the wrath of the city guards. Turn the page around sonny."
It was picture of a naked woman. No, she wasn't naked actually, but she was wearing a skin-tight white t-shirt that struggled to contain her breasts. Her right hand covered her nipples, and her left hand was perched over her pussy hair, her finger in her vagina. I felt myself go hard right away. I took a closer look at the woman's face. She looked like she was in a trance of some sort, maybe drugged or weak.
=
ALSO INCLUDED IN PURCHASE
ONE AUTHENTIC YANKEE SEX SLAVE
GUARANTEED TO BE THE BEST FUCK YOU'VE EVER HAD
=
"She's pretty. But I still don't get why I need this armor to get into a vault. I've visited plenty of other vaults..."
"Sonny, this isn't the standard T-51b powered armor. It has a standalone, air-filtration system. It's practically a self-contained... self-contained... what was that he called it... space suit." Patch-face smiled, and I wondered if he had understood anything he had just said.
"Okay, so I need the suit to get into the vault's lower levels. Where do you come in?"
"Oh, I don't desire much treasure-hunter. I'll show you how to... acquire the powered armor. You let me fuck that girl silly. And I want... 50%."
"10%. I do all the heavy hitting."
"20%. Without me, you wouldn't have even found out about the auction."
"15%. Without me, you wouldn't be able to get a fuck if you paid for it."
Patch-face snarled. "Deal. Remember what you said. I get to fuck her, preferrably in the ass, as much as I want."
I smiled. "Deal." We shook.
IvanJarvis
It Wandered In From the Wastes
Lol, that last one is a little Too mature for me! 
EyeMaster7
A Smooth-Skin
Good story. Yankee sex slave? 
It's very falloutish. 
It's very falloutish. Yummyjulie
First time out of the vault
Great story, please update soon!
Carib FMJ
Nuka-Cola Chaser
*Gets into a rabid caffeine related fit* WHERE THE HELL IS THE REST OF THIS MARVELOUS TALE?!
