[Chapter 1: Freeze Or Burn]
War. War never changes.
The men and women of Vault 100 know this all too well. Originally a part of Project Safe-House; Vault 100 was built to be like that of a pre-war military base, formed by Vault-Tec on the outskirts of Chicago, Illinois. Complete with a curfew, strict hygienics, the only entertainment being exercise, and pre-war military propaganda holotapes. The goal of this vault, unlike many of its counterparts, wasn't constructed to be apart of some sick experiment on the human psyche. No, this vault held more of a noble purpose. To train its occupants into fine soldiers, well capable of venturing out into the wastes and paving the road for humanity to recolonize. No matter what mutated abominations might await them. The vault's overseer was a pre-war general. A very decorated one at that. General Auburn was chosen specifically for his military expertise and leadership skills. After he passed away, his subconscious was copied into the vault's mainframe using similar technology used to generate the Enclave's President Eden in DC. In death, Auburn still kept a tight ship inside the vault. At first, not all the occupants were military trained, or lived or believed in such principles, but they learned quick. A few rebels here and there would try to unsuccessfully raid the vault's extensive armory of advanced pre-war weapons, but ultimately fail and be sentenced to prison for life in the vault's holding facilities, originally constructed for prisoners of war. The goal of most occupants is to surpass their fellow vault dwellers in skill, strength, and cunning, to be awarded with cryogenic sleep. To be frozen until the vault's opening so they could lead the way into this new world. Only around 50 ever actually were chosen by the picky automated general. In 2287, the overseer picked up a strange transmission. It sounded like a military broadcast from a base to soldiers. Not wanting to pass up such an opportunity to reunite with the old world army, General Auburn ordered that the frozen elites be awoken, and the vault door opened. And that, is where the story begins.
[Fallout: Old Chicago, Chapter 1: Freeze Or Burn]
[Author's Note:] [I've been thinking about weather or not I should tell the story from 2nd or 3rd person. 2nd being the reader will be the main character, and 3rd, the main character will be followed by the narrator. I've settled for 3rd Person: Limited because it's my best form of writing style. ]
Amongst the 50 elites being awoken, all being assigned numbers instead of names, Number 31 will be who we will follow.
In the pod chamber of the vault, the cryogenic pods set up with round oval shaped glass doors shifted upward and into the bottom of the pod, steam releasing as the occupants would awake and arise. One by one, each pod would repeat this process for each of the 50.
Each occupant knew what to do. Being awoken meant it was time to head to the armory and gear up to venture out into this new world that they'd trained so hard to explore. #31 followed closely after his fellow brothers and sisters in arms into the vast armory of pre-war weaponry and equipment.
"About time General Automated decided to take us off ice, eh?"
- 27 shoved #31 playfully. The two had a friendly rivalry. It's what pushed them to work so hard. Always trying to better one another.
"You know better than to talk about Auburn like that!"
- 31 smirked as he shook his head, walked down a few lockers to the designated "31" painted in yellow. He opened it to find a backpack, two spare Vault 100 jumpsuits, a few bottles of purified water, three MRE's, a chocolate bar for trading, and two bottles of Nuka-Cola. For weapons, he was left with a 10mm pistol, 3 spare mags of rounds for the pistol, an assault carbine rifle, and two mags for that, and a Swiss Army knife.
"Command sure does know how to supply us..."
- 31 mumbled to himself, slipping all the rations and ammunition into his backpack, then throwing it on. He holstered the pistol on his right thigh, and slung the rifle to his side, double-checking the safety, and sliding his blade into its sheathe on his belt.
But before closing his locker, he saw a small device in the back that he'd missed. "No way... Is that..."
- 31 was interrupted by #27.
"You got a Pip-Boy 3000? Man, I've only heard about those!" 27 looked over his shoulder, already geared up.
"You didn't get one?" 31 asked him quizzically as he picked it up and adjusted the straps on his left wrist.
"Only squad leaders got Pip-Boys."
- 1 walked passed casually as he had already put his Pip-Boy on and synced it to his vitals.
"So you're a squad leader? Congrats man!" 27 patted him on the back. "But, we'd better head to the briefing room. Auburn's got a message for us." 27 told 31 and he nodded, closing his locker and following 27 closely down the corridors. The vault hadn't changed a bit since he was frozen. A lot of new faces though. It was then that it donned on him. Just how long was he asleep..? What year is it?
There was no time to investigate, as he entered the briefing room with all his fellow elites. It took a few minutes for the rest to fill the seats, and sit down in the dark room set up similar to a movie theatre. The projection screen lighting up the wall of paper.
"I see my star pupils have woken up!" General Auburn's voice chimed through the loudspeakers. His AI beginning the briefing and the slideshow.
"You see, I've picked up transmissions outside of this vault. Radio broadcasts from some sort of command carrying orders out to units. I believe that they are in fact The United States Army!" General Auburn explained, a slide passing into the screen of a picture of the Vault Boy mascot dressed as a soldier, saluting as he held the flag,
"That is why I have awoken you. It's time for the vault door to be opened. It's time to fulfill our vault's purpose and pave the way for civilization!" General Auburn spoke with glee. The automated man was clearly excited. Another slide passing of several Vault Boy mascots wearing Vault 100 jumpsuits armed with rifles leading a crowd of civilians.
"But, be warned. The world has changed in the 200 years that we've been down here. You may not like what you find out there. You were each chosen by me personally for a reason. I have faith in you, my men. Use your training wisely. Baby steps." General Auburn warned, another slide coming up of a bunch of mutated creatures.
"Now, some of you may have realized only a few of you have been given Pip-Boys. Those who wear them will be assigned their own squad, hand-picked for the best efficiency to complete our mission." General Auburn told them, another slide coming down of Vault Boy winking as he had a new Pip-Boy 3000 on his left wrist.
"You will recover your mission objectives in the notes section of your device, as well as a list of your team numbers. Gather, and venture out. Make me proud. Dismissed." General Auburn finished, the slides cutting out and the lights in the briefing room lighting back up.
31 checked his Pip-Boy immediately, turning the dials to find the Notes section, not used to the controls.
"Let's see... Numbers 18, 45, 6, and 24." 31 nodded at the numbers, walking over to the exit where the other leaders were waiting, gathering their teams.
"18, 45, 6, 24!" 31 called out into the crowd, the four finally finding their way to him after a few call-outs.
18 looked like he was some sort of sniper, judging from the rifles he had on his back crossed into an X. One was scoped, the other wasn't. A revolver for his sidearm and a satchel for his supplies. Silver aviators and a blue beret with '100' as the insignia. He had a black buzz-cut and a little 5-O'Clock shadow with a squarish chin. He looked like the strong silent type, tall at 6'1.
45 looked skinnier than the others. He certainly wasn't chosen for his strength, that was for sure. He had brownish dirty blonde hair that was probably only centimeters off from hygienic violation. He wasn't that tall either. Only about 5'7 or 5'8. Square glasses over his dark green eyes and he looked to be armed only with two pistols and a baseball bat. Why or how he was chosen would've been a mystery, had he not had a tool belt. Perhaps he was some sort of tech expert?
6 was younger. Maybe not even 20 yet. He wore a leather jacket over his standard Vault 100 jumpsuit, but still sporting the '100' in white print on the back of the jacket. Just looking at him, he was probably rebellious. Just judging from his haircut, that combed back look that a pre-war gang member wore. Standing at 5'9, 6 seemed to enjoy playing with a butterfly-knife, spinning the multi-bladed weapon in between his fingers with ease. A large machete sheathed on his left hip with an SMG slung lightly over his back. A belt of smaller looking, throwable knives ready at his disposal. A blade expert, no doubt.
24 was in his 40's. He was dressed like a Vault 100 MP officer, complete with a bulletproof vest that read '100' on the chest and back, a riot helmet, a baton, a service rifle, and a pistol. He had grayish hair, and stood at around 6'0.
This looked like a very diverse group. Probably for the better.
"I'm 31." 31 told them. "I'm going to be your squad leader, and our objectives look to be... Standard recon. Survey the area outside the vault, and investigate the city outskirts for signs of human life." 31 explained as he read the objectives off of his Pip-Boy notes.
"Any questions?" 31 asked the four that stood before him. They just looked at each other, no one saying anything.
"Alright, let's go..."
[You Have Gained +1 Intelligence!]
[Chapter 2]