Epic Fallout story that never got off the ground

Discussion in 'Fan Art/Fan Fiction' started by Deadeye, Aug 14, 2011.

  1. Deadeye

    Deadeye First time out of the vault

    41
    Jun 23, 2003
    I wrote this about 3 years ago. After playing Fallout 3, I had mixed feelings. It came out okay, but the few good points it has in my opinion is vastly outnumbered by the many, big minuses of the game. Story and voice acting just being at the top.

    I had the idea to write a story in how I'd like Fallout 4 to be like and had it loosely formed in my head and I wrote this prologue to get myself started, only I never started on the first chapter. Far too many things kept me back; unsure what style to use, how to descripe certain things and what locations I should have in that area that would be from the real world and the Fallout world.

    Eventually, I just never did anything with it, and a few weeks ago I stumbled on the prologue. At the time I wrote it, I thought it was damn good, both in quality and that it was as Fallout accurate as possible with a few stuff that I had invented, but more than once I cringed a bit as I read it.

    Had half a mind to delete this or something, then figured I might as well post it here, get other people's opinions. Hope you like.

    .............

    PrologueFebruary 03, 2074
    Washington D.C.



    „-still no further comment from the White House after the President walked out on the oil talks from the other world powers last week, only that they stand by the President’s previous statement, that the oil in this land is for America and Americans only, and that not a single drop will sold or given to the rest of the world. Outrage is still apparent with the bold statement, most noticeably from-“

    The tv screen flickered off and silence reigned in the room. The people gathered around the long business table looked to Director Andrew Breen, who placed the remote on the table and calmly looked back at the others, as if daring them to say anything. No one challenge him, and for a while no words were spoken by anyone, until Breen broke the silence.

    “Our work has become absolutely important, now more than ever,” he said in a soft, determined voice, the man having honed his charismatic skills to a sharpening degree, perfect for handling the business deals of Vault-Tec’s, and he didn’t hesitate to use it now.

    Timothy Neusbaum took the hint and looked down at the scattered papers strewn before him and started looking for the papers he’d been holding when someone had turned on the news. The Director of Resources soon found it and scanned the paper through his thick glasses, clearing his throat and started from where he’d left off, “Ah, final selections for Overseers and Chiefs of Security have been selected for Vault 106 and 108, who are deemed most fitted for their designated Vault’s experiment goals. Food, medical, armament and entertainment supplies have been all been reported delivered to the Vaults on the West Coast, with the exception of the entertainment materials of Vault 55. All entertainment footages have also been removed from Vault 56, with the exception of Truman Bradshow,” the name of the horribly failed comic actor actually caused some of the people gathered around the table to shutter some, and someone muttered ‘poor bastards’ as Neusbaum continued, “Mr. Colson voiced concerns over the quality of the equipment that was installed in Vault 53, stating that Vault-Tec should have them replaced as soon as possible, his reasoning pointing out the much better equipments that were installed in the other Vaults. He officially filed his complain that will be dealt with accordingly,” Neusbaum stated, holding out a piece of paper that would go to the shredder once this meeting was over.

    “I must voice concerns regarding Vault 92 and 87. Certain…individuals in the Pentagon have been making demands on the progress of some of the Vaults, those two in particular,” Breen said in a reasonable, deep voice that carried across the room, “Are we sure the Overseers and their people can be…trusted?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but the act had to be done.

    “Without a doubt,” stated Smith Petersburg, Director of Human Resources, “Richard Rubin is fully dedicated to the Vault Experiment, and will not let a silly little thing like human conscience get in the way. And as long as Doctor Malleus will be out of the loop of our full instructions, the United States of America will have obedient soldiers within two to three years who do not question their superiors,” Petersburg stated in a voice that broke no argument with the others, and Breen resisted the urge to shake his head over the man’s suppose patriotism. Brave of him to say such words, considering he’d be stationed in the other 17 normal Vaults that would serve the public’s expectations.

    “How many of the musicians are coming to Vault 92?” Neusbaum asked, drinking some water as he adjusted his glasses.

    “All of them,” Petersburg stated, not quite managing to hide his smugness, “The money offered to them was just too good to pass up, plus the idea to be able to practice with the other renowned musicians of the world certainly helped. They will arrive to the Vault next month and spend a few weeks there, under the illusion as guests, when one night they will awaken to loud sirens and the sealing of the Vault’s door, and told that the nuclear war has just started. Rubin and Malleus will wait for about a week before beginning the White Noise experiment.”

    “And Vault 87’s inhabitants?” Breen asked smoothly, not in the least bothered by Petersburg’s words and the lack of humanity in them.

    “Everything will be ready within two weeks, the fireworks, passing jet fighters and the jamming of the local radios will look quite convincing to the town folks of Andale and Fairfax that an actual war is starting,” Petersburg stated, then looked across the table to Neusbaum, “Is 87 ready to receive?”

    “They are installing the necessary equipment and adding more space for the science and test labs to accommodate the sudden changes in the Vault and it’s new experiment goal and should be 100% operational at the end of this week, though the generators will be put to the limits,” he replied, going over some papers as he spoke, then returned his gaze to Petersburg, “And the Vault’s personnel?”

    “We are going over the final open positions to find the best suited people. Finding scientists who understand the true meaning of sacrifices and cutting corners in the name of progress have already moved into the Vault, and I couldn’t have picked a better Overseer myself. He will get the job done, but more importantly, get the results that the Pentagon wants,” Petersburg replied confidently, drinking his Nuka-Cola with relish.

    Breen didn’t doubt that the Overseer would deliver. Calling the man a sociopath was a…kind description of him, and it wouldn’t surprise him one bit if the madman would still continue the experiments even after the bombs would fall (and some other Overseers he could name). But it was necessary, as progress at West-Tec with the F.E.V. had gone far too slow for some at the Pentagon, and they needed something NOW to help them retake Alaska from the Chinese, who were proving quite stubborn to die. Failing that, at least they could use whatever results Vault 87 would make when the American Army would invade China, even if the mutated F.E.V. strain that the Pentagon had given Vault-Tec to study had been deemed far too volatile on test subject by West-Tec, but that was precisely why they were about to experiment with it.

    “A press release from our movie industry in Hollywood is ready to announce that the fireworks and jets in Fairfax and Andale is nothing to worry about, merely filming a movie in that area, one that they won’t reveal until after the film’s done, which will be why no one’s allowed near the two towns until after the film’s done, which should take 2 to 3 years or so,” Breen said as he stood up from his chair. The tall man walked over to the big window of the conference room inside Statesman Hotel that showed D.C. in the night. The whole city was bathed in lights, making it impossible to see the stars in the night sky, but Breen had never been the stargazing type as he poured himself half a glass of expensive whiskey.

    Conversations continued behind him, but he only listened with one ear, mostly worried concerns from Jack Halbert, Public Relations and the youngest of them in the room, who informed the rest that last week had been another drill on the West and Middle coast, and in almost all the Vaults there had been another 10% decrease of people coming, and so was suggesting they’d stop the ‘Cry Wolf’ calls for a few a months in the hope to fix it.

    They think they’re patriots. They think themselves as important to this country, Breen thought with a certain level of disgust, Tasked with constructing the Vaults as asked by the President himself and other key figures that I introduced them to, and already the superiority is in their eyes, believing themselves above the rest of us, that only they can change the inevitable. Makes me almost wish I could see the look on their faces when they realize the truth.

    “I’d like to address a certain issue with one of the Vaults,” Redmond Boyle, Director of Treasury, suddenly said, ending other talks at the table, “It concerns Vault 77, the sheer size of it and the level of military hardware that is being put there,” although Boyle didn’t say it, his words were directed at Breen, who composed his face into a mild curiosity before turning around to face the room as Boyle went on, holding a piece of paper though he didn’t look at it, “While it’s more as an underground fortress in every sense of the word, it looks more like it’ll be used as a storage bunker, housing enough firepower to arm at least two Battalions, over 100 military robots and even some of the latest Power Armors are to be shipped there, instead of being send to Alaska where they are needed the most and to say nothing of the cost of the construction,” Boyle declared, his eyes slowly looking at them as he spoke, finally settling at Breen’s, “And yet, while the place is also designed to house 1000 soldiers, 500 more if necessary, only one hundred civilians will be placed there,” the Director said, still looking at Breen, “Many high ranking officers and Generals have approached me, some asking, others demanding, just why so much firepower and resources are being wasted. They also don’t like the idea of a Vault, so clearly meant to be build by the Army, is instead being done by a corporation.”

    Breen wasn’t really surprised by Boyle’s confrontation. If anything, the man had objected to the plan of Vault 77 from the moment it entered the drawing board, proposed by Breen himself over 8 years ago, and was still against it, even as the place was well on its way. Boyle’s Grandfather and great-grandfather had been in the Army, but a childhood knee injury had prevented Boyle from pursuing that career and so had chosen the corporate life, but he was very much sympathetic when it came to the military and its grunts, almost to the point of being a hindrance.

    This was the first time Boyle had voiced his objections of the Vault to the rest of the board here in D.C., no doubt in a last ditch attempt to put an end to it.

    “The purpose of Vault 77 is to see how civilians, in a surrounding meant for military trained people, will handle themselves all alone, learn and adapt in the use of military hardware,” Breen smoothly lied in a neutral tone, sipping his whiskey to buy time to form the right words, “A sort of simulation, in case the USA will lose their brave soldiers in the fight against the Chinese, and the citizens of this great country will have no one to turn to for defense, but themselves. While the chances of such a thing happening is extremely unlikely,” he went on as Boyle opened his mouth to say something, “we must be ready for anything, as you no doubt know about the losses we’ve sustained in Alaska,” Breen said in his most logical, reasonable tone, and he didn’t have to look around to know the others were being swayed to his side, but Boyle wasn’t about to give up just yet.

    “Even so, 100 civilians in a Vault designed for 1000 inhabitants? To routinely check the Vault’s vast systems, to keep maintenance on critical hardware, and to top it all, a ZAX unit installed at the Command Center that is programmed to restrict civilian access to various systems and only allow officers that won’t even be there? They’ll be lucky if they can get to the mess hall and the elevators, if they won’t first break due to overwhelming stress,” Boyle said with criticism, maintaining eye contact with Breen to appear like he knew what he was talking about, to have an air of confidence, but before Breen could reply, Neusbaum chimed in.

    “Actually, the ZAX A.I has been specially programmed for the Vault. While it will deny direct access, through some word play, subtle holes in the security and back doors in secondary systems, the Vault inhabitants can gain clearance into certain parts of the Vault meant for the military, such as the supply rooms and the level 1 armory, along with the medical and maintenance bay which should aid them as time passes. Of course, further access to the areas with higher security clearance will be next to impossible to get into, but the chance will be there,” he said, offering Boyle a friendly smile that was not returned.

    The Director of Treasury was no slop when it came to being persuasive, but with Neusbaum on Breen’s side, he knew it was an uphill battle that wouldn’t even be worth the reward, so Boyle instead chose to admit defeat with dignity with a simple nod. Finally looking at the paper he had in his hand, the man gave it a quick scan before looking back at Neusbaum, “Will the Vault have a G.E.C.K.?”

    “Hasn’t been decided yet,” Neusbaum said with a shake of the head, and the room’s tensions slowly eased away as it looked like Boyle’s confrontation was at an end, though traces of it remained in the air.

    “So, err, where’s Doctor Braun? Wasn’t he supposed to join us tonight?” Halbert asked slightly nervously, attempting to move the meeting forward. If the young man had also tried to replace the tension with frustration, he succeeded by just the mentioning of the man.

    “The good Doctor is at Vault 112, where he was been for several weeks now, overseeing the final installing of the virtual pods, along with the extreme complex programming for the simulation system for it to work within expected parameters, and offering some…assistance with it,” Neusbaum said in a neutral tone, though Breen had to give him credit, as it was no secret he loathed the man, even more so at the thought of sharing a Vault with him.

    Doctor Stanislaus Braun was the key figure that had brought Vault-Tec to what it was today with his genius mind and inventions, his finest work being the G.E.C.K., if it worked of course. More than once, Breen had considered trying to persuade Braun to join them, as such a mind would be a terrible waste for the times ahead, but Braun came with a huge drawback; He was as arrogant and a pain in the ass as he was intellectual, and the things he’d do when he got bored…

    As Andrew Breen sat back in his seat, his gaze flickered to Timothy Neusbaum as the meeting went on, and for a moment, he briefly contemplated of persuading him to transfer himself, wife and son to another Vault, as he had seen the psychological profile on Braun and what he would do once everyone would be in those pods and he had attained a certain Godhood over them. Neusbaum had after all helped him put Boyle in his place, among other things throughout the years, but in the end, he, Braun, Vault-Tec and so many others would become irrelevant. He, too, had been assigned a place in Vault 112, but he would be ‘tragically’ late, as when the time would come closer, he, the President, key government figures and military personnel would be on Poseidon, and the rest would be sealing themselves in bunkers and Vaults across the country for things to come, where their descendants would then emerge, and put this great country back on its tracks.

    Being a part of the Enclave had its…privileges.