(Just a warning, these first parts are based on Fallout Tactics, comments would be appreciated)

I sat with my head resting against the wall, watching the monitor mounted on the wall of my basemant. It was set up with a camera feed, and the tornado tearing through the area was displayed on it. The old pre-war tornado siren was working fine, going off as the funnel cloud started forming. As I sat there, I realized I had never met the guy who turned the thing on. I didn't even know where he lived. I watched as the tornado faded and eventually disappeared.

My dad stood from the couch he was sitting on and started up the stairs, my youngest brother following him up. I glanced back at my mom and middle brother before climbing the stairs two at a time. I walked through the kitchen, quickening my step to get outside with my dad and my brother. The rest of the town was fine. I could see from the porch. I walked over to the end and leaned on it, looking out into New Crest. That's what we decided to call this town. It's a good size, although before the war, it was a medium sized neighborhood. When the original residents moved in, they cleared all the fences and stuff, set up shops in the sheds, and called it a settlement.

I went down the stairs and walked out into the yard, heading for the shed closest to my house. It had been built off of to combine with another shed to make the general trader for New Crest. I was a little confused that they called it that, although once I started the scav team, we found that a block over was a town that used to be called Crest Hill. Technically, New Crest was in pre-war Joliet, but there was already a New Joliet.

I live in what used to be Illinois, a couple miles south of Chicago. We're labeled as tribals by the people in Springfield, although we're closer to them than somewhere like Brahmin Wood. We have security robots patrolling the outside of the town, and cameras linked to moniters inside our houses to watch the twisters pass.

I stuck my head inside the shop. The shop keeper; a guy named Thorn, was just climbing out of his personal storm shelter, which used to be a fallout shelter before it actually happened.

"You alright in here Thorn?" I asked, checking around the inside of the store. A couple things had fallen off the shelves, but other than that, the building was alright. The buildings were all fortified to protect from the heavy storms that constantly wracked the Midwest.

Thorn quickly went over and picked up the things that had fallen over. "I'm alright Taylor." That's me. I'm a 15 year old kid named Taylor, living in a town called New Crest in the Midwest. Pretty simple overview.

Thorn was kind of an old guy, in his late fifties. He wore his gray hair in a ponytail, and had an eyepatch where his left eye used to be. His face was beaten and weathered, and he had the look of an old fighter. He wore simple leather armor like the rest of the advlts who lived in New Crest.

"So Thorn, I meant to ask you," I started, propping myself up on my elbows and resting my chin on my hands "Got anything good for my scav team?"

The area around the town was ripe with raiders, and in some places, super mutants. The only fighters in the town were on the security force, but we needed someone to go out and get supplies for the town. Almost a year ago, I started a scavenging team along with three other permenant members, although others occasionally joined us. Most of the members weren't out of their teens. The security team, namely my dad, tested each member for their ability with a weapon before they were allowed out of the town.

Thorn seemed to think for a moment, his rough forehead wrinkling in thought. "Yes, I do" he said, reaching under the counter. The most we were equipped with at the moment were hunting rifles. He pulled out a pump-action shotgun and set it on the table.

I picked it up and looked it up and down, nodding with a smile. "Great, we can use this. Thanks a lot Thorn." I grabbed it my the barrel and took off.

He nodded at me as I left. I went back into my house, sitting down in front of the computer set up in my room. I sent a message to the terminals of the three members of my scav team.

The message read: "We're going out on a run. Get your gear together and meet up at the guard house by the gate."

I opened my dresser and found my leather armor. I quickly changed into it and opened another drawer. I reached inside and took out my shiv, which I then slipped inside my right boot. I also pulled out my Beretta M9FS and its holster, strapping it to my left side, since I was left handed. Although, I usually use melee weapons with my right hand. I kept my rifle in the guardhouse locker, so I'd get it when I met up with the rest of my team. I told my Mom I was going, and headed for the guardhouse.

(Don't know if anyones reading this, but heres the next part)

As I arrived at the guardhouse, I saw that one of my team was already there. I walked up to him and nodded. "You're early, Nando."

Fernando is a stocky, Hispanic guy. I'm 5'10, and he's a couple inches shorter than I am. He has dark eyes and dark, short hair. He always wears an old jacket over his leather armor. He nodded at me from where he sat "I was on my way out as I got the message." said Nando with a shrug "You're just slow."

I punched him in the shoulder, and sat next to him to wait for the other two members of our team to arrive. He hadn't even notice the shotgun I had slung over my shoulder. After a while, another member of our group arrived.

Erik came up to us grinning "Taylor, what do you have for us there?" he said with a point to the shotgun.

Erik is another Hispanic guy, but he's leaner and a bit taller than Fernando, although still not as tall as me. Same dark eyes and hair, although his hair is longer than Fernando's. He usually had a grin on his face. I slung the pump-action shotgun around and showed it to them. "Thorn hooked us up. This should help today." I said, pointing in the general direction of where we were going that day "We're raiding the national guard reserve base."

Erik grinned, and Fernando had a smile on his face as well. We had been planning to go in there to get some weapons and ammo for quite a while, but the weapons we had wouldn't do well in close quarters with the ghouls holed up in there. Now we had the right tool.

After a while of waiting for our last member, he showed up. Jaquille, a tall black guy with a bit more muscle than the rest of us, walked up and greeted us all "Hey guys." he said, going straight for his locker "We leaving now?"

I shrugged "Yeah." before going to my locker. I entered the combination into the padlock and opened it, hanging the lock on part of the door. My rifle was leaning against the right side of the locker. I grabbed it and my lock before I slammed the door. I clipped the lock on and turned before yelling up to the gate guard "Alright, open the gate."

He nodded and accessed the terminal in front of him. The gate opened with a slow, grinding, metallic sound. We filed out and to the garages outside of the gate. Waiting outside were Gary and Kevin, two brothers in charge of our team's buggy. That's right, a buggy. Up in the Midwest, vehicles work. It sure as hell beats walking from place to place. Our particular buggy was once a raider's, but we managed to shoot him out of it. Gary and Kevin made hundreds of modifications to it and made our buggy the perfect scavenging vehicle.

Gary saw us coming and nodded. I nodded back. He elbowed Kevin's shoulder and they went inside. A moment later, the garage door opened, and the buggy eased out of the garage, Gary driving and Kevin in the passenger seat with a M2 Browning machine gun in his lap. The buggy itself was mostly pieced together with scrap metal, and had been highly unreliable before, but the brothers' modifications had improved it immensely. The back seats had been added upon, now there were two rows of two seats, along with an open bay behind it for throwing scavenged goods.

I reached the buggy first, vaulting over the side and into the front right seat. The three other members of the scav team piled in, and Jaquille patted Gary on the shoulder. He threw it into gear and peeled out with a loud squeal. It annoyed me, but it was his car. We took of down the streets, in horrible but drivable conditions. At several places we went up onto the grass and drove along until we came to s stretch of drivable road. In front of me, Kevin had a look of concentration as he scanned the area around us. The buggy didn't have much armor, and the Browning Kevin carried was our main line of defense, as well as offense.

I leaned back and checked my rifle. After making sure it was in good condition, I layed it by my feet and checked the shotgun. It was in nearly perfect condition. Thorn had spent some time fixing it up. Hopefully, we'd find some weapons and no enemies in the base, but the last team we had sent didn't come back. I could only hope that the shotgun would make enough of a difference.

It's pretty good. Introduction wasn't all that great, though.