Rad-Sickness

A Story by Eusophocleas

In the world of Fallout a lone senior citizen resides in Wingtown, a city built in the remains of a plane steel factory in Charleston, SC. Sneaking out, the elder tries reliving his old life.

The morning started with the smell of Brahmin roast, while pungent, Solomon knew the cook that lived under him did his damndest to spice the contents of that pot into something edible, had been for years now. Rising to his feet, the old man shuffled to the balcony, careful to remember the inch of steel they left of the pipe that once ran the length of the factory, he didn't need another swollen foot. It looked eerie out across the former plane factory, no fires or lights had sparked to life, the darkness swirled and contorted in strange ways around the countless shacks, but soon, one by one, it all came to life like a lazy Yao Guai. Scratching along his left arm, a crooked smile sprouted as he traced scars from his elbow into the middle of his hand.

"Lazy," the elder scoffed.

Memories of stumbling across a mother and her cubs back in years long lost flooded in like they'd just occured, the fight didn't last long, for some reason she'd spared Solomon, but left him with three long reminders of the encounter, giving the old man nostalgia most would wave away as lunacy. Easing back into his shack, the elder dressed himself in his typical attire, something the kids called a "surveyor outfit," though strange, it wasn't as bad as some of the other names he'd gotten familiar with. He still struggled with Western terms like "Legion" and "NCR," he thought "Brotherhood of Steel, and "Enclave" were the ones he'd never come to grasp. It'd been some time since Solomon had been in the Capital Wasteland, and eons since the Mojave, the Commonwealth was a simple breeze however, it had the luxuries of extreme development, almost made Solomon shudder at the lead he'd dropped in the wild lands of New Vegas. That's when the elder stopped and took notice of the yearning he felt to be outside the walls of the factory and back into the wastes. He remembered in glittering awe the method he'd once used to travel, an old steamboat up to D.C, if he wanted exotic supplies for the road he'd stop in the Commonwealth, and then travel roads into the long stretch, 15, all the way to New Vegas, 66 if he felt adventurous enough. But would he be able to keep up this time?

---more to come tomorrow---