Author: Drake Clawfang PM
A trio of Raiders see their next victim approaching, and it promises to be an encounter like no other they've ever had. Oneshot, Fallout 3.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor - Lone Wanderer - Words: 693 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Published: 09-24-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7407161
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I don't typically write Fallout fanfiction, but I had this idea and decided to publish it. Enjoy!
"The ammo we got off the last merchant we bagged is low," Jackson muttered, sifting through the crate next to his seat. "We better go lookin' for someone else to get more from within the next couple of days." Across the table tossing a canister of Jet between her hands, Morris shrugged.
"We could ration it, if you wouldn't be so damn trigger happy," she replied, nodding at the assault rifle leaning against the table.
"Ain't my fault the thing goes through ammo like a fuckin' beggar," Jackson snapped.
"Hold on!" The third member of their band, Harland, held up his hand atop the makeshift watchtower they'd made atop a covered slide in the ruins of an old playground. "I think I see a new supply comin' closer." Morris and Jackson stood up and spotted a figure approaching in the distance.
"Hell yeah, party time!" Morris laughed, grabbing her pistol from the table. Harland knelt down to pick up his hunting rifle and jumped down to join them. The figure came closer, revealing a dull grey suit of power armor with a pack slung under their right arm. The helmet of the suit was missing, but the rest looked in pristine condition.
"Don't move, dipshit!" Jackson yelled, raising his assault rifle to point it at the figure. The figure stopped, eyes narrowing. "You pick the wrong fuckin' way to come pal, especially alone!" the raider yelled. The figure sighed and folded their arms.
"Okay, hold on guys," they said. "Can we talk for a sec?"
"Huh?" Jackson muttered.
"Wanna show you something, no tricks," the figure explained. "See this? This is T-51b power armor, the most advanced piece of armor from before the war, in prime condition. This," the figure jerked a thumb to a gun barrel pointing over their shoulder, "is the custom Xuanlong chinese assault rifle, has an expanded magazine over the standard assault weapons, like the one you've got there, and has better penetration. These," the figure tabbed three tin cans hanging from a belt around their waist, "are Nuka-Grenades, explode in a nice ball of fire over a twenty-five foot radius, made them myself at home." Morris and Harland gave each other a confused look, Jackson lowering his assault rifle slightly.
"The fuckin' hell…" he whispered.
"This thing," the figure patted a laser rifle hanging from the belt next to the grenades "is called the Metal Blaster, a standard laser rifle modified to shoot nine beams at once, and last but certainly not least," the figure set their pack down on the ground and pulled open the zipper to reveal a long silver weapon. "This here is a Gatling laser, carries a two-hundred-forty charge of energy, fires approximately twenty beams in three seconds, which is enough to slice and dice all three of you into bite-sized chucks in about fifteen seconds." The figure stood. "And, don't know if you listen to the radio, but if you've tuned into Galaxy News Radio you probably heard them talk about a 'Lone Wanderer' that took out the Enclave, wiped out the slavers of Paradise Falls, and has probably killed more super mutants and Talon Company mercenaries than the entire Brotherhood of Steel combined."
"Now," the Lone Wanderer said, "all that said, do you really wanna do this? I'm reasonable, I'm just on my way to Arefu to visit a friend. You can walk away, you get to live, I'll save myself some money on ammo and repairs. How about it?" Jackson looked over his shoulder at Morris and Harland, who shrugged, and looked back at the Lone Wanderer.
Thirty-two seconds later, the Lone Wanderer zipped up their pack and stood up, slinging it back under their arm.
"Sooner or later I'll run across a Raider with more than two brain cells and they'll just walk away," they muttered, walking past a tangle of mutilated limbs, their bloodied ends still smoking from laser fire.