The Trip to Necropolis

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story set in the world of Fallout 1.

I do not own Ian, nor any of the info on Fallout itself.

Les is my own creation.

Submitted: May 05, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 05, 2011



Les ducked behind the scorched car as a bullet ricocheted off the burnt metal… from behind him.
“What the Hell, Ian?!” He looked over his shoulder to the innocent looking man behind him. AS if the raiders in front of him were not enough, Ian apparently thought he would pop off a shot at him once again.
“Sorry! Not sure how that happened…” Ian shouted as he ripped off a shot that actually found its mark and dropped the last raider. He got up slowly, looking very interested in his own pistol. “Damn thing has a mind of its own sometimes…”
Les shook his head and rose, dusting the rust from his arms and chest. “Every time… Every. Single. Time. You manage to almost kill me in every fight we get into! Are you half blind or something?” Les was beyond frustrated, and rightfully so. Almost every time Ian drew his gun, Les ended up with an extra bullet in him, or a broken set of armor or even a hold in his boots. That was a creative shot there. “I mean, seriously, weren’t you trained as a guard in the Hub?”
“Well, not really…” Ian glanced down to his ratty boots. “I mostly kept to the back and let the others shoot. My boss put me there after I nearly blew a caravan with a shot into a pack of TNT.” Les crooked a brow at that one. “Besides, you were pretty much in front of me… kinda…”
“Right… let’s just get keep going. I’m on a time limit here. And Ian… Keep that damn gun in its holster. I do not need another hole in my armor.” Les growled and crouched and gave the fallen raiders a once over for any notable loot. Pocketing a bit of ammo and a handful of caps they started again. “I need to get to this vault soon. Our next stop is some city called Necropolis…”
Hours had passed with little problems. A couple run ins with some geckos and a very persistent merchant were the highlights of their trip.
“You know,” started Ian, “I’ve been thinking. You come from one of them Vaults, right? So you’re pretty new to all this jazz. How’d you get roped into this?”
Les sighed quietly, thinking back to his home Vault 13. He didn’t realize, until Ian had mentioned, just how much he missed his cozy little room; the hours spent watching comedy holo tapes… Krystal… He shook his head and glanced over at Ian. “It’s a long story. Let’s just leave say something important broke and I got screwed into have to get a new one.” His fists clenched, remember just how he go chosen for the task… Drawing straws… He couldn’t believe his luck on that one. Les turned his eyes to the sky, the fading sun painting red on the few clouds remaining. “It was one of those ‘volun-told’ situations. Needless to say, I did not want to be the one to come out here.”
Ian listened quietly, wondering at the ways of Vault people. “Hey, at least ya ran into me, eh? Not much fun wandering around out here by yourself. Not too safe either...”
Les smiled at that, looking back down to Ian. “Yeah… That’s true.” He paused and pointed over at a cluster of crumbling buildings. “What say we make camp there for the night, start fresh tomorrow?”
Ian nodded and looked around the area. “Yeah, that could work. You go in and get settled; I’ll run the first watch. I’ll wake you in a few hours.” Ian patted him on the shoulder. “Things will get better, trust me.”
If only…

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