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Hello everyone. I am writing a book based in the fallout world. It still is in the early stages and the technical stuff is not perfect yet but the wiki page is really helpful in getting things sorted out. I know my description on the Mr. Handy right now is way off but I will get to that later. I just wanted to post some of it and see what everyone thinks of it.

Here is a couple sections of the first chapter:

What good can come from an ideology born of blood? - Question of the day

Alahora was raised to be tough. She was born in 2246 in Vault 501 outside of Richmond. The vaults designated #01 were in fact the only Vaults to last more than a few decades and fulfill their intended purpose. The other vaults were designed to be experiments capable of producing something that would protect the Americas from the Chinese (or whatever other enemies would arise) after the Great War. Those vaults failed miserably. Some were set up to produce warriors of superior psychology but these vaults drove the people insane. Other vaults were intended to produce warriors of superior physicality (and perhaps they in fact succeeded in doing so), but they produced instead one of the greatest new threats to human kind- the super mutants. Others wanted to clone warriors that en mass could overrun the threats posed but only produced mindless drones hostile to all but their own kind; however the#01 vaults were meant to preserve humanity and civility as it had existed before the war. Somewhere amidst all the madness engulfing the world someone knew that this was essential to preserving humanity. For 148 years Vault 501 had served its purpose but now it had a flaw and Alahora knew it, and it was beginning to break this tough little lady.

In Vault 501 people were screaming.
“Open the door! “
“We don’t know is out there”
“Open the door!” 
“People you must calm down.”
“Open the GOD DAMN DOOR!”
 Almost all of the Vault 501 ‘s residents had gathered at the heavy door that sealed Vault 501 from the irradiated door that lead to god knows what outside.  The problem was that no one really knew what was outside.  It could be that nothing was outside- no plants, no animals, no humans, or maybe there were things outside.  Alahora did not know what was worse.

“People you must be reasonable. Think about what you are doing,” she said trying her best to use the influential hypnotic voice that she had been taught by her father. It was not working so well. “People are sick and dying,” screamed Mark one of the 501 doctors. “I am not waiting any longer,” said John on the maintenance workers. He moved towards the control panel that opened the door.

Fiedo, one of the guards raised his .32 caliber and shot John twice in the head dropping him instantly. Richard, another of the maintenance workers drew a large pre- war combat knife (a memento given to him by his father) and threw it directly into Fiedo chest. It struck his aortic artery just above his heart and blood shot out of Fiedo’s chest spraying Alahora’s face and several other guards standing next to her.

One of them – Alan – raised his assault rifle and fired a three shot burst into Richard‘s chest. Then another guard – Christina- (the girl who Alan had first kissed when he was only 9 years old as they snuck around the filtration access tunnels) raised her .32 and killed Alan in one shot. It was then that all hell broke loose. Alahora awoke violently. She was drenched in sweat. “Good morning madam, I hope you slept well,” said a slightly metallic sounding voice with a British accent. It was Wensworth – Alahora’s Mr. Handy – one of the first artificially intelligent robotic domestic assistants. He had a spherical body/ head that housed his processors on top of a fusion powered engine that allowed him to float around as he needed, and three appendages that contained a variety of tools used for his domestic work. Alahora herself was a jet black beauty. She was very tall (just over 6’2”) and slender. Her face was very angular and thin. Although thin, her body appeared very athletic and every part of her seemed in perfect health giving her the appearance of a well-balanced package of strength, agility, dexterity, and endurance. “Are you alright madam? Your beddings appear soiled,” Wensworth inquired. Alhora suddenly noticed an acrid smell and realized that it was not only sweat drenching here and her sheets. “Fuck me I pissed myself”. Alahora had a fascination with 21st Century American vulgarity and was the only person in Vault 501 who used it on a minute –by-minute basis. She found that it really helped release the immense level of stress she faced being responsible for the 50 lives that as far as she knew were the last chance for humanity. “Quite alright madam. I will take care of it hastily,” said Wensworth. “Just remember to wash my sheets this time not shred them,” Alahora replied with more then a hint of frustration. The Mr. Handy robots entered production in 2054 and had several bugs that had never been worked out as the General Atomics International was nationalized and converted to sole military use in 2055. Mr. Handy became Mr. Gutsy who had a titanium rather then aluminum casing, flame thrower instead of power washer, and plasma rifle instead of general utility appendage. After a much needed shower Alahora went to her desktop terminal to view the overnight reports. “Your coffee madam,” said Wensworth as he floated into the room and set down Alahora’s preffered morning beverage. “Thank you Wensworth that will be all,” she said. The gentle blowing sound of Wensworth’s fusion engine faded as he floated out of the room. Alahora woke her desktop and the screen flashed, “Highly Confidential Report Available. Ensure Room Security Before Continuing”. She typed in the secret code needed to continue. Radiation Filtration System Operating at 65% Efficiency Automatic Maintenance Process Operating at 35% Efficiency Estimated Failure of Maintenance System in 45 Days Estimated Failure of Filtration System in 120 Days

Radiation Scanners Report 3 Rads per Litter Remaining After Filtration (press enter to continue) She hit enter. Access Maintenance Tunnels 03 Section C, 13 Section A and B, and 21 Section D, E, and F to Check for Needed Repairs. Alahora’s head dropped. This was not the first time the computer had warned her about filtration problems but she was at a loss of what to do. Filtration problems meant that people were now drinking radiated water and would soon start developing radiation sickness. Once the filters failed completely they would not last long. This is why she had personally checked the flagged tunnels and had found that some sort of strange insects were attacking both the filtration and maintenance systems. The maintenance systems were supposed to attack and destroy anything that interfered with the filtration systems, but the insects were resisting the defenses. The implication of this was that the vault was no longer sustainable. As of yet Alahora had not been able to find a way to defeat the attacking insects though she spent all her available time researching the maintenance systems searching for a way to modify the defense systems so they could destroy the insects and begin repairs. If she could not find one soon the only option available would be to open the vault. This scared her to death. There was a knock at her door. “It’s open,” she said. The door opened and a tall slender man – Alan – entered. “Got a minute?” he asked. “One or two but I am rather busy,” she replied. “It’s about Christina.” “Oh God Alan we have been through this before,” she said with a bit of frustration. “I know but this morning I saw her and she had a black eye. I asked her about it and she said that she had tripped and hit it on something but I don’t believe her. I think it was Richard,” he said with obvious concern in his voice. Alahora thought for a moment before replying. “Alan I know you still have a thing for Christina but you two are not pre-adolescents anymore. If Richard is abusing her believe me I will do something about it, but I cannot go around making accusations just because you are still carrying a torch.”

“I know. Could you at least talk to her though?” he asked. “I will think about it. I might talk to some of her more objective friends and see what they think, but I am not taking this too far without more evidence. It could really be that she fell. I know you don’t I get along with Richard but I don’t really think that he would hit her and it is her choice to be him,” he said somewhat insincerely as he sulked back out of the room.

Alan and Christina had shared in some puppy love for about six months when he has thirteen and she was twelve but she moved on and he never really had. Now she was married to Richard and Alan was constantly finding ways to instigate an intervention in their relationship. Right now Alahora had bigger concerns even if Christina was being abused it was not just Christina that was at risk it was everyone.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. - Nursery Rhyme (Unknown Origins)

Jill lived in the wastes surrounding Richmond in a settlement named Freidstown, She was the daughter of a grain farmer who grew some mostly radiation free wheat in the steppes of the Appalachian Mountains. After the Great War the higher ground of Appalachia did not get hit to hard or receive as much radiation as the lower grounds as it seeped through the ground. Grain farming did not interest Jill that much but her father – John- had no sons to pass on his trade to as his wife had been kidnapped after Jill’s birth. They had been on the move from Ohio when the Talon Company had moved in and begun to extort resources from everyone in the area claiming that they were protecting the community. On the way from Ohio to Virginia John’s caravan was attacked by Raiders. If he had not run across a very friendly merchant shortly after the attack he and Jill never would have made to Freidstown. When she was 8 years old her cousin Jeffery gave her a .32 caliber six shot pistol and taught her how to hunt mole rats with it. Mole rat meat sold for an average price on the meat market and was above boatfly, and dog, but below Brahmin meat. Jill loved hunting mole rats and feral dogs. Hunting was a true passion for Jill but what she really was to be in the Lyons Brotherhood. She dreamed of their fights with the Enclave often. The Lyons did not operate by Richmond regularly but that was going to change. Word had gotten out that a year back a massive water purifier had begun to operate on the Potomac under the control of Lyons and they were delivering water all over. Soon the shipments would begin to reach Richmond and the surrounding areas. They were also looking for vaults particularly ones that had something called a G.E.C.K., Jill knew that the only sealed vault around here was Vault 501 but she had no idea what a G.E.C.K. was or if they had one. The outsiders had no way of interacting with anyone inside a sealed vault. They had to open it from inside before any contact could be made. But Jill hoped that the Lyons would hit Freidstown soon. They were closer to DC then Richmond was so she pictured herself as an ambassador to them letting them know what was ahead of them and such. Today Jill was hunting molerats on the slopes. She was hiding behind some rocks as she listened for the funny little rustling and snorting noises the molerats made. It was not long before she heard them. She made out that two mole rats were moving up their regular trail that went from the lower ground where they hunted small rodents and the higher ground where they drank. As they crossed where she hid she set up and took aim directly behind them as they walked up the trail. Then she waited until they were about ten yards away (enough space to ensure getting both before they can cross the ground between her and them but close enough for good accuracy). She fired four times in rapid succession hitting both molerats in the head twice. They both collapsed on the ground and pools of blood to pool around them. She reloaded her revolver than ran over to them quickly because she wanted to get them upside down as quickly as possible so the blood could drain while it was still warm. As she was checking to make sure both were really dead she heard another rustling noise. Something about the speed and the size of the noise instantly made Jill fully alert and spun around and saw death upon her. A ten-foot long rad scorpion was bearing down on her from about thirty yards away. Quickly she dropped to one knee and fired all six shots hitting the scorpion in its oversized stinger five times. It was hardly fazed. She reloaded her revolver quickly knowing that it would be the last time she ever did so if this did not take it down as it close d to less then fifteen yards. She raised the revolver and took aim when two green blasts hit the scorpion in roughly the same area she had hit. A large crack opened in the scorpion’s stinger and it began to ooze puss, venom, and blood. The scorpion halted for a moment and turned to the left from where the blast had come from. Jill glanced over and saw three green flashes come from what looked like Brotherhood power armor next to some shrubs. The scorpion was hit two more times and the top half of its stinger came flying off with large amounts of blood and venom with it. The scorpion fell lifeless and Jill’s heart stopped. Had she really just been saved by a Brotherhood member? She looked back over and the figure who had saved her stood up. It was indeed a Brotherhood power armor suit but Jill realized that it was not a Lyons Brotherhood who had saved her. What she had at first thought was dirt and battle wear of the suit she realized was dark red paint of the Outcast brotherhood. Jill knew that in DC a split had arisen in the Brotherhood about how best to help humanity. Lyons had wanted to collect information about technology that could rebuild the wasteland while others in the ranks were more interested in fighting raiders and Talon. Lyons saw that as small time business that would only make a marginal difference in people’s lives with no long term gain while the would be Outcasts thought it was the only way to truly help people. Thus Lyons shunned them making them the Outcast Brotherhood. The relationship between the two now was one of general disdain but was often physically neutral. The Outcast fighter continued to walk towards her and he began to remove his helmet revealing mid length blood hair. “Are you OK?” he asked as he moved towards her with a little more haste. Jill still could not speak. The whole event had sent her into temporary shock but she was still coming around. She opened her mouth and mumbled, “ I… uh… I don’t…” The Outcast finally reached her and he put his arm on her shoulder. “Hey are you OK?” this time with a little more concern. Jill blinked twice and said, “Uh, yeah I think I am. Thank you – I guess. I mean yes thank you, thank you very much.”

“Hey no worries. Maybe you should sit down for a minute,” he said gesturing for her to sit on near by rock. “Yeah maybe that is a good idea,” she replied and took the seat on the rock. “What are you doing out here anyway?” he asked. “I, uh, I hunt molerats with this,” she said raising her .32 caliber weakly then plopping her arm back down. “Looks pretty deadly but maybe not so much for a rad scorpion,” he said with a matter of fact tone of voice. “ Hey I’m Jack and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,“ he said as he extended his hand.

She looked at him dumbfounded. She felt a mixture of residual shock, confusion, and bewilderment all at the same time. She slowly put out her own hand and they shook. “Yeah well like I said thank you. My name is Jill and I am glad to meet you.”

“Coherence, lucidity, excellent now I am not so worried, “ Jack said with the enthusiasm and charm of a little boy who had just won a prize at the carnival.

“So what are you doing out here Mr. Jack? Looking for young damsels in distress I presume?” Jill was getting back her composure and was starting to enjoy Jack’s lighthearted repartee making her forget how close she had just been to her own death. “Just Jack please and not at all to answer your question although I am certainly glad I was in the area at the time. I am part of a scouting party.” “Do you have imaginary friends or are there more of you hiding somewhere?”

“Ah we had a bit of a squabble so I meandered over here for a bit to clear the head and I must say you are doing quite a job of that.”

Jill giggled slightly and said, “Well Jack I am glad to do that, but you must tell me what are you scouting?”

“Looking for Vault 501 mam.” “Please if I am to call you Jack you must call me Jill. I am in fact familiar with the whereabouts of Vault 501. May I ask why you are looking for it?”

Jack’s face took a shaded but comically theatrical, and he leaned in closer to her. “I am not supposed to tell anyone but you don’t seem like the Lyons brotherhood type so I will trust you. We are looking for a G.E.C.K.”

The format is not translating from word perfectly but I didn't have a lot of time in posting this so hopefully it isn't too confusing. Let me know what you think yall.

-Miles