Fanfic: Wasteland (Part II)
Title: Wasteland
Rating: PG-13 (for language and violence)
Fandom: X-Factor/Fallout 3
Pairing: I'll give you two guesses. :)
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel Comics. Setting belongs to Bethesda Game Studios.
Setting: Two hundred years after nuclear destruction, humans struggle to survive in the ruins of Washington D.C.
Please Note: You do not need to be familiar with the game to understand the story. If you have questions about the setting, feel free to ask.
7.
Discouraged by the slim pickings in the upper floors of the Stark Capital Ltd Building, the two men decided that the sub-basement passages were worth a look. As a general rule: the more dangerous the area, the more likely that other scavengers had not made it there first.
Half an hour later, they were hiding out in a nook within a complex web of caves leading from the sub-basement. It was dark, the radiation levels were high, and they were trapped.
"Olly olly oxen free!" A shot rang out in the caves, followed by the echoes of hysterical giggling. The laughter cut off as the voice demanded, "WHERE IS SHE!?"
Trapped with a mad man wandering the caves, out for their blood.
As the disembodied voice began to sing 'where is she' in a dissonant tune, Ric knelt down in their hiding place and leaned over to Ben. "Leave this to me."
"I can take him," Ben whispered, insistent.
"He tricked out his gun to shoot railroad spikes!" Ric whispered back.
"I can -"
"No," Ric met Ben's eyes. He meant it this time. "Are you with me or against me on this one?" he asked. His tone made it clear that if Ben chose the latter, he was on his own. Ric did not agree to travel with Ben just to see a good friend die.
Grudgingly, Ben relented, "I am with you."
"Great," he said. "Now, stop stealing all the action."
"..."
"Glare at me all you want," he said. "You're still a glory hog." Quickly, Ric checked and reloaded his shotgun. He didn't want anything to go wrong in the next 20 seconds.
"Cowards!" the voice echoed off the walls, much louder than before. "Cowaaaaards!"
Ben bristled, swords raised, ready to prove the attacker wrong.
Ric swept his hand down in a sharp movement, signaling Ben to be still.
"Where is she!?"
after taking an unsteady breath, Ric shouted down the tunnel, "She's right here!" He stepped out of their hiding place.
"Where -" a figure appeared at the mouth of the tunnel. Ric fired, disappointed to see that the shot only took out a portion of the man's thigh.
"ARGH!" The attacker raised his crudely-made weapon and aimed at Ric's chest. "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL -"
"Down!" Ben shouted. He knocked the wind out of Ric when he tackled him from the side.
A line burned across Ben's ribs from a flying metal spike. A deafening blast right next to his ear rocked his senses. Then they both hit the ground.
Ben raised his head and quickly assessed his surroundings. An eerie silence pervaded the tunnels. He felt a brief panic that his partner's desperate shot took out his hearing, but soon Ric's shouts prevailed over the ringing in his ears. Ben looked down, his face inches from his partner.
"Star! Star, did he get you?" Ric demanded, breathless under the crush of weight. "Are you bleeding?"
"Quiet," Ben whispered. "He could be hiding anywhere."
"He's nowhere now. Look!" Ric twisted his head to the side and Ben peered down the tunnel. In the dim light of the lanterns, a body lay there, arms and legs splayed out. Above the body, a grotesque abstract painting was splattered across the cave wall. It was the remains of the attacker's skull.
8.
They discovered the dead man's name in his jacket pocket. It was written in a small notebook that had tiny handwriting on almost every page.
Ric sat down on the side of the old highway to read the journal in an effort to understand a man he killed out of necessity.
It had taken them nearly four hours to dig a hole into the packed earth deep enough to bury the corpse. This was not a common chore, but the dead man was not a raider, a slaver, nor a feral. He was something altogether different. Somehow it felt wrong to leave him to rot.
So after the burial and a few hours rest, Ric read the man's journal as Ben occupied himself with two old planks of wood and a switchblade.
Ric looked up from the notebook and asked, "How is it?"
"Nearly finished," Ben replied, sounding satisfied with his work. "The book?"
"Same."
"What is it like?" he asked, though he really meant to ask was 'who the hell was he?'
Studying the pages in his hands, Ric brushed his fingers over the scribbled words. "Pretty sad. The guy was keeping a journal to pass down to his son and teach him how to survive. Then here," he indicated a passage near the middle of the book, "there was an accident of some kind. Seems it was his fault his son died. His wife left him, so he got fixated on finding her again. He was crazy enough to think that'd bring their son back somehow."
Ric skimmed through the pages. The writing became more erratic the further into the book, a stream of conscious monologue of a man spiraling out of control. "Grief turned into fixation turned into obsession turned into madness." He glanced up at Ben, "It happens in the wastelands. Sometimes."
"Oh," Ben said. Unable to add any deep insight, he sat silent.
Ric set the journal on the ground. As gently as he could manage, he asked, "Can you read?"
"...I know my letters," Ben replied. He showed him his handiwork.
Ric studied the carvings and nodded, "Not bad." As he handed the carving back, Ric bent forward to take a look at the bandage wrapped around Ben's side. "How's that feel?"
"Horrible," Ben assured him. He had a trace of humor in his eyes. "But it is a flesh wound and I heal fast."
"You nearly got a railroad spike shoved through your -"
"You nearly did as well," Ben interrupted. "Let us be glad to be alive."
Ric sat back. He fiddled with a corner of his jacket as his companion tied the pieces of wood together with a length of wire. "So," he said, uncertain. "You saved my life."
"True," Ben paused and tipped his head to the side, thoughtful. "You saved me from slavery."
"I guess we're finally even," Ric said, surprised that his voice was softer than he intended. Ben was a fast learner. He had managed to adapt in ways that had taken Ric a lifetime. Now, after this, he no longer had an obligation to travel with Ric. He would be fine on his own.
Finished, Ben pushed the wooden cross deep into the soil. He carefully minded the fresh wound below his ribs as he straightened up.
He stepped around the dirt mound and stood beside Ric at the foot of the grave. The silence stretched out between them, both steeped in their own thoughts.
"I'm going home," Ric blurted out, startling them both. "It's not, I mean, it's not a 'home' really but it's where I keep my stuff and..." he backpedaled and tried again, "There's plenty supplies and shelter and everyone in the town sort of knows me, so I, uh -"
"A town," Ben looked at him, curious. "I have never been to a town before."
"Oh," Ric said. "Well, then it's decided."
Trying to fight down the heat on his face, Ric cleared his throat and stepped forward. Over the grave, he said a few words of farewell to the stranger's soul, in case the guy was still around and was in need of proper respects. Ben did his best to follow suit, although he did not know how best to offer words. Ric assured him he did a good job.
Soon, the two men made their way east toward the Capital. In their wake they left little else on the barren land, except for a worn notebook and a wood cross bearing the name: James Arthur Madrox
9.
In the town of Megaton, Ric kicked open the door to a weather-beaten shack. "Oh e'er so humble, right?"
Ben peered inside the two-story house, a dimly lit and musty building with a few metal lockers stacked against a wall. It was drafty and the kitchen consisted of only some shelves and a fridge. He was completely fascinated by the welcome surroundings. "This is very different from the living quarters in the Vault," he said.
"'Different' is the nicest way I've ever heard anyone put it," Ric scratched the back of his neck. It was a self-conscious gesture. "Thanks. It's just a place to stash my stuff and recoup. I barely stay long enough to really settle in. It's... it's not supposed to be much."
Ben leaned toward a cabinet to study Ric's amusing Vault-Tec bobble head collection. He was uncertain what his wasteland partner was trying to say beneath the sheen of nervous words. Ben had quickly grown used to the practical aspects of survival in the Capital Wasteland, yet the social aspects were still quite mysterious to him.
Sometimes it was best to simply respond with the first sincere thought to come to mind. "This place smells of fresh earth and woodchips," he said.
"Uh, sorry, I - "
"It smells of you. I like it," Ben clarified. "We shall spend the night here, correct?"
Ric blinked at him. Unhooking the pack and the guns from his back to set next to the lockers, he scratched at the itch on his neck again, "Actually, I was hoping we could stay here a little while. Winter's getting pretty nasty, so I'd rather we slept somewhere with plenty of blankets and supplies. Drop your stuff here and I'll show you the upstairs."
The second floor was more hospitable, with a ragged couch and a table as part of a makeshift living room. Rictor fiddled with the radio on the table as Ben inspected the two narrow bedrooms, one well-used, while the other seemed completely untouched.
"That room is all yours," Ric said over his shoulder as he carefully tuned the radio to one of the few decent stations left in the Capital Wasteland. "Don't worry about rent," he added, relieved to hear the static clear up to form a pretty tune from ages past. "They gave me this place for free after I managed to disarm that old atomic bomb stuck in the middle of town. Good thing I lucked out with that or everyone in Megaton would've all been blown to kingdom - what?" He glanced up to see Ben giving him a strange look. "Hell. What'd I do now?"
Ben turned his head to the side. "We must sleep in different rooms?"
"Ah, about the sleeping arrangements..." Ric stood up, but he was unable to meet Ben's eyes. "I figure it'd be better if we slept separately from now on."
Ben frowned, "What is wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Ric shrugged. "Not wrong wrong, but definitely not right. There's something I should've told you. I didn't think you'd stay around for so long - but now it's been two weeks and you're still here and now I'm feeling like a dirty, stupid sunnova - "
His rambling stuttered to a halt when Ben reached out and touched his cheek. Swallowing past his pride and a heavy lump of fear, Ric looked his friend in the eyes and said, "Star, I'm gay."
"I thought I told you not to call me Star."
Ric backed away way from Ben's touch. "That's not what you're supposed to say, dumbass!"
"What do you wish for me to say?" Ben asked, confused.
"Wish?" The word was lodged in Ric's throat. "That's - it's not about what I, I, it's - Star, do you even know what gay means?"
"Of course I do. I was raised on wall-to-wall media programming."
"Then... you know why I'm telling you this?"
Ben shook his head slightly. "You... felt like sharing?"
"No! I mean, yes. I mean... that's not everything, but it's not like I just come out in the open to everyone who... y'know, sometimes it feels like I'm talking to an alien from an alternate dimension!"
"Aliens and alternate realities are two different genres. Do not mix them. Are you trying to infuriate me with your hysteria?"
"Fine! I'll spell it out for you. Look! I'm gay," Ric pointed at himself. "You're hot," he jabbed a finger at Ben's chest accusingly. "And I haven't been using the sleeping together thing for body heat. That's just an excuse to be close to you 'cause - 'cause I'm a selfish, horny bastard trying to squeeze a little happiness out of my sad, pathetic existence. Okay? Do you get it now?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or shout, but he was pretty damn close to either extreme.
Ben rubbed the spot where Ric jabbed him. "Oh..." he said, thoughtful.
"At first I thought it wouldn't be a big deal - that you'd be gone in a couple of days and I'd have the memory of some hot guy I slept near for a few nights. No harm, no foul. But you... you never left and you're acting like you're not planning on going anywhere and, and... you never stop looking so damn perfect. It's killing me, man! I'm can't just walk away without wanting to - "
Ben frowned, "Kiss me."
Ric winced, "Yeah. So you see how it's just not - "
"I wasn't facilitating your foolish speech," Ben drew close to Ric and slipped an arm around the man's waist. "I was making a demand."
Neither said another word. The silence between them was only accompanied by a tinny radio song and then the harsh creak of an old mattress finally being put to good use.
Who knows where the road will lead us
Only a fool would say
But if you'll let me love you
It's for sure I'm gonna love you
All the way
When the song dissipated into the musty air, a piercing howl broke through the stillness. It was followed by the enthusiastic catcalls of the radio DJ.
"Heeeeeeeey, there! How's your night been, my lovely Wastelanders! This is Loooooooongshot! Bringing you the sweetest tunes this and that side of the Potomac! Just now was the sweet songbird Billie Holiday with 'All the way.' Next up here on Galaxy News Radio -"
Ric hit the floor with a heavy thump. He yelped as pain shot up his shoulder. "What the hell, Star?" he shouted at Ben, who was still perched on the mattress. "Why did you -"
"That voice..." Ben stared at the radio in shock. "That... that's my father."
To be concluded in Part III... (so, um, what do you think of the story so far?)
Rating: PG-13 (for language and violence)
Fandom: X-Factor/Fallout 3
Pairing: I'll give you two guesses. :)
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel Comics. Setting belongs to Bethesda Game Studios.
Setting: Two hundred years after nuclear destruction, humans struggle to survive in the ruins of Washington D.C.
Please Note: You do not need to be familiar with the game to understand the story. If you have questions about the setting, feel free to ask.
7.
Discouraged by the slim pickings in the upper floors of the Stark Capital Ltd Building, the two men decided that the sub-basement passages were worth a look. As a general rule: the more dangerous the area, the more likely that other scavengers had not made it there first.
Half an hour later, they were hiding out in a nook within a complex web of caves leading from the sub-basement. It was dark, the radiation levels were high, and they were trapped.
"Olly olly oxen free!" A shot rang out in the caves, followed by the echoes of hysterical giggling. The laughter cut off as the voice demanded, "WHERE IS SHE!?"
Trapped with a mad man wandering the caves, out for their blood.
As the disembodied voice began to sing 'where is she' in a dissonant tune, Ric knelt down in their hiding place and leaned over to Ben. "Leave this to me."
"I can take him," Ben whispered, insistent.
"He tricked out his gun to shoot railroad spikes!" Ric whispered back.
"I can -"
"No," Ric met Ben's eyes. He meant it this time. "Are you with me or against me on this one?" he asked. His tone made it clear that if Ben chose the latter, he was on his own. Ric did not agree to travel with Ben just to see a good friend die.
Grudgingly, Ben relented, "I am with you."
"Great," he said. "Now, stop stealing all the action."
"..."
"Glare at me all you want," he said. "You're still a glory hog." Quickly, Ric checked and reloaded his shotgun. He didn't want anything to go wrong in the next 20 seconds.
"Cowards!" the voice echoed off the walls, much louder than before. "Cowaaaaards!"
Ben bristled, swords raised, ready to prove the attacker wrong.
Ric swept his hand down in a sharp movement, signaling Ben to be still.
"Where is she!?"
after taking an unsteady breath, Ric shouted down the tunnel, "She's right here!" He stepped out of their hiding place.
"Where -" a figure appeared at the mouth of the tunnel. Ric fired, disappointed to see that the shot only took out a portion of the man's thigh.
"ARGH!" The attacker raised his crudely-made weapon and aimed at Ric's chest. "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL -"
"Down!" Ben shouted. He knocked the wind out of Ric when he tackled him from the side.
A line burned across Ben's ribs from a flying metal spike. A deafening blast right next to his ear rocked his senses. Then they both hit the ground.
Ben raised his head and quickly assessed his surroundings. An eerie silence pervaded the tunnels. He felt a brief panic that his partner's desperate shot took out his hearing, but soon Ric's shouts prevailed over the ringing in his ears. Ben looked down, his face inches from his partner.
"Star! Star, did he get you?" Ric demanded, breathless under the crush of weight. "Are you bleeding?"
"Quiet," Ben whispered. "He could be hiding anywhere."
"He's nowhere now. Look!" Ric twisted his head to the side and Ben peered down the tunnel. In the dim light of the lanterns, a body lay there, arms and legs splayed out. Above the body, a grotesque abstract painting was splattered across the cave wall. It was the remains of the attacker's skull.
8.
They discovered the dead man's name in his jacket pocket. It was written in a small notebook that had tiny handwriting on almost every page.
Ric sat down on the side of the old highway to read the journal in an effort to understand a man he killed out of necessity.
It had taken them nearly four hours to dig a hole into the packed earth deep enough to bury the corpse. This was not a common chore, but the dead man was not a raider, a slaver, nor a feral. He was something altogether different. Somehow it felt wrong to leave him to rot.
So after the burial and a few hours rest, Ric read the man's journal as Ben occupied himself with two old planks of wood and a switchblade.
Ric looked up from the notebook and asked, "How is it?"
"Nearly finished," Ben replied, sounding satisfied with his work. "The book?"
"Same."
"What is it like?" he asked, though he really meant to ask was 'who the hell was he?'
Studying the pages in his hands, Ric brushed his fingers over the scribbled words. "Pretty sad. The guy was keeping a journal to pass down to his son and teach him how to survive. Then here," he indicated a passage near the middle of the book, "there was an accident of some kind. Seems it was his fault his son died. His wife left him, so he got fixated on finding her again. He was crazy enough to think that'd bring their son back somehow."
Ric skimmed through the pages. The writing became more erratic the further into the book, a stream of conscious monologue of a man spiraling out of control. "Grief turned into fixation turned into obsession turned into madness." He glanced up at Ben, "It happens in the wastelands. Sometimes."
"Oh," Ben said. Unable to add any deep insight, he sat silent.
Ric set the journal on the ground. As gently as he could manage, he asked, "Can you read?"
"...I know my letters," Ben replied. He showed him his handiwork.
Ric studied the carvings and nodded, "Not bad." As he handed the carving back, Ric bent forward to take a look at the bandage wrapped around Ben's side. "How's that feel?"
"Horrible," Ben assured him. He had a trace of humor in his eyes. "But it is a flesh wound and I heal fast."
"You nearly got a railroad spike shoved through your -"
"You nearly did as well," Ben interrupted. "Let us be glad to be alive."
Ric sat back. He fiddled with a corner of his jacket as his companion tied the pieces of wood together with a length of wire. "So," he said, uncertain. "You saved my life."
"True," Ben paused and tipped his head to the side, thoughtful. "You saved me from slavery."
"I guess we're finally even," Ric said, surprised that his voice was softer than he intended. Ben was a fast learner. He had managed to adapt in ways that had taken Ric a lifetime. Now, after this, he no longer had an obligation to travel with Ric. He would be fine on his own.
Finished, Ben pushed the wooden cross deep into the soil. He carefully minded the fresh wound below his ribs as he straightened up.
He stepped around the dirt mound and stood beside Ric at the foot of the grave. The silence stretched out between them, both steeped in their own thoughts.
"I'm going home," Ric blurted out, startling them both. "It's not, I mean, it's not a 'home' really but it's where I keep my stuff and..." he backpedaled and tried again, "There's plenty supplies and shelter and everyone in the town sort of knows me, so I, uh -"
"A town," Ben looked at him, curious. "I have never been to a town before."
"Oh," Ric said. "Well, then it's decided."
Trying to fight down the heat on his face, Ric cleared his throat and stepped forward. Over the grave, he said a few words of farewell to the stranger's soul, in case the guy was still around and was in need of proper respects. Ben did his best to follow suit, although he did not know how best to offer words. Ric assured him he did a good job.
Soon, the two men made their way east toward the Capital. In their wake they left little else on the barren land, except for a worn notebook and a wood cross bearing the name: James Arthur Madrox
9.
In the town of Megaton, Ric kicked open the door to a weather-beaten shack. "Oh e'er so humble, right?"
Ben peered inside the two-story house, a dimly lit and musty building with a few metal lockers stacked against a wall. It was drafty and the kitchen consisted of only some shelves and a fridge. He was completely fascinated by the welcome surroundings. "This is very different from the living quarters in the Vault," he said.
"'Different' is the nicest way I've ever heard anyone put it," Ric scratched the back of his neck. It was a self-conscious gesture. "Thanks. It's just a place to stash my stuff and recoup. I barely stay long enough to really settle in. It's... it's not supposed to be much."
Ben leaned toward a cabinet to study Ric's amusing Vault-Tec bobble head collection. He was uncertain what his wasteland partner was trying to say beneath the sheen of nervous words. Ben had quickly grown used to the practical aspects of survival in the Capital Wasteland, yet the social aspects were still quite mysterious to him.
Sometimes it was best to simply respond with the first sincere thought to come to mind. "This place smells of fresh earth and woodchips," he said.
"Uh, sorry, I - "
"It smells of you. I like it," Ben clarified. "We shall spend the night here, correct?"
Ric blinked at him. Unhooking the pack and the guns from his back to set next to the lockers, he scratched at the itch on his neck again, "Actually, I was hoping we could stay here a little while. Winter's getting pretty nasty, so I'd rather we slept somewhere with plenty of blankets and supplies. Drop your stuff here and I'll show you the upstairs."
The second floor was more hospitable, with a ragged couch and a table as part of a makeshift living room. Rictor fiddled with the radio on the table as Ben inspected the two narrow bedrooms, one well-used, while the other seemed completely untouched.
"That room is all yours," Ric said over his shoulder as he carefully tuned the radio to one of the few decent stations left in the Capital Wasteland. "Don't worry about rent," he added, relieved to hear the static clear up to form a pretty tune from ages past. "They gave me this place for free after I managed to disarm that old atomic bomb stuck in the middle of town. Good thing I lucked out with that or everyone in Megaton would've all been blown to kingdom - what?" He glanced up to see Ben giving him a strange look. "Hell. What'd I do now?"
Ben turned his head to the side. "We must sleep in different rooms?"
"Ah, about the sleeping arrangements..." Ric stood up, but he was unable to meet Ben's eyes. "I figure it'd be better if we slept separately from now on."
Ben frowned, "What is wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Ric shrugged. "Not wrong wrong, but definitely not right. There's something I should've told you. I didn't think you'd stay around for so long - but now it's been two weeks and you're still here and now I'm feeling like a dirty, stupid sunnova - "
His rambling stuttered to a halt when Ben reached out and touched his cheek. Swallowing past his pride and a heavy lump of fear, Ric looked his friend in the eyes and said, "Star, I'm gay."
"I thought I told you not to call me Star."
Ric backed away way from Ben's touch. "That's not what you're supposed to say, dumbass!"
"What do you wish for me to say?" Ben asked, confused.
"Wish?" The word was lodged in Ric's throat. "That's - it's not about what I, I, it's - Star, do you even know what gay means?"
"Of course I do. I was raised on wall-to-wall media programming."
"Then... you know why I'm telling you this?"
Ben shook his head slightly. "You... felt like sharing?"
"No! I mean, yes. I mean... that's not everything, but it's not like I just come out in the open to everyone who... y'know, sometimes it feels like I'm talking to an alien from an alternate dimension!"
"Aliens and alternate realities are two different genres. Do not mix them. Are you trying to infuriate me with your hysteria?"
"Fine! I'll spell it out for you. Look! I'm gay," Ric pointed at himself. "You're hot," he jabbed a finger at Ben's chest accusingly. "And I haven't been using the sleeping together thing for body heat. That's just an excuse to be close to you 'cause - 'cause I'm a selfish, horny bastard trying to squeeze a little happiness out of my sad, pathetic existence. Okay? Do you get it now?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or shout, but he was pretty damn close to either extreme.
Ben rubbed the spot where Ric jabbed him. "Oh..." he said, thoughtful.
"At first I thought it wouldn't be a big deal - that you'd be gone in a couple of days and I'd have the memory of some hot guy I slept near for a few nights. No harm, no foul. But you... you never left and you're acting like you're not planning on going anywhere and, and... you never stop looking so damn perfect. It's killing me, man! I'm can't just walk away without wanting to - "
Ben frowned, "Kiss me."
Ric winced, "Yeah. So you see how it's just not - "
"I wasn't facilitating your foolish speech," Ben drew close to Ric and slipped an arm around the man's waist. "I was making a demand."
Neither said another word. The silence between them was only accompanied by a tinny radio song and then the harsh creak of an old mattress finally being put to good use.
Who knows where the road will lead us
Only a fool would say
But if you'll let me love you
It's for sure I'm gonna love you
All the way
When the song dissipated into the musty air, a piercing howl broke through the stillness. It was followed by the enthusiastic catcalls of the radio DJ.
"Heeeeeeeey, there! How's your night been, my lovely Wastelanders! This is Loooooooongshot! Bringing you the sweetest tunes this and that side of the Potomac! Just now was the sweet songbird Billie Holiday with 'All the way.' Next up here on Galaxy News Radio -"
Ric hit the floor with a heavy thump. He yelped as pain shot up his shoulder. "What the hell, Star?" he shouted at Ben, who was still perched on the mattress. "Why did you -"
"That voice..." Ben stared at the radio in shock. "That... that's my father."
To be concluded in Part III... (so, um, what do you think of the story so far?)