Hello, Fictionites. I just had an idea for different short stories, that all take place in the same building; but at different times.

This first one is just a simple conversation between two people in their death bed, eighty years after the events of Fallout 3, meeting each other. Whether or not you like it, expect more Some will have action, others will just be talk like this one...



Joy & Misery


It's August 17th, 2357, and The Lone Wanderer lies in his death bed. Our Lady of Hope Hospital will be the last place he ever ventures, and the woman with whom he shares his room will be the last person he talks to.

He peacefully lays, with his head neatly on his pillow. And with his gown tied perfectly on his back. His arms on his old belly, and his chest heaving from his heavy breathy; caused simply by old age.

Staring only at the ceiling, he tries his best to speak loudly to his roommate, "Do you have a name?"

"What?" The equally old lady replies. She's in a very similar position as The Lone Wanderer, except for her arms being to her side. She coughs, and brings her right hand up to her mouth, shaking violently the whole way. By the time she reacher her mouth, she stops coughing, and sighs.

So much wasted energy and effort. She can't be bothered to move her arm back to her side.

"A name," The Lone Wanderer repeats to her, "Do you have one?" He takes in a breath, and stays staring at the ceiling. He can't move his neck to look at the lady next to him. The only reason he knows it's a woman is because of the occasional nurse visits.

"Can you believe it?" Is all the woman has to say.

Confused, The Lone Wanderer replies, "Believe what?"

Both of their voices are soft and shaky. The woman's voice sounds like she's in a miserable condition, while the Wanderer's had a hopeful tone to it.

"The world," The woman says back, "It's livable again. It's being rebuilt."

The Lone Wanderer stares at the ceiling, and focuses on all the little black specks against the white background. He counts the tiles, and the lights. "Times were harsh," He says, "I still remember the first day out there in the Wastes--"

"--What used to be the wastes, you mean." The old woman corrected, "I haven't seen it in so long. I wonder if the rumors are true? Green grass? Trees with leaves?"

Frowning, the Wonderer says, "I couldn't see it. I can't even imagine it." He still stares at the ceiling, "All I see is dirt. Blood. Bullet shells. Knives. Mutants..."

"Oh, the mutants." The woman replies, "If it wasn't for that water purifier, they'd still be here. The man responsible for that was a horrible person once. But in the long run, eighty years later, it all worked out."

"I'm sure that man regretted his decision after making it." The Lone Wanderer replies, "I'm sure he feels remorse for the innocent people that died from it. Even the non-feral ghouls. Life used to be a fight for survival. And that man took it from innocent beings that thought they could drink it finally without worry."

"But!" The woman said as loud as she could, "Look at the nation now. No mutant threat, no feral monsters trying to eat our flesh. The civilians who died, if they weren't selfish, should be happy they started grounds for a new world. Our tolerance built, and it'll just carry on into future generations. Civilization is civil again, because of what that man did."

"I'm sure many people have different opinions on the matter." The Lone Wanderer replies, he gulps.

"There's one thing that man did that I'll never forgive him for." The lady says.

Slightly startled, the Wanderer says, "You knew him? Personally?"

"The man who saved the world, was the very same man that took my dad's life."

The Lone Wanderer shuffles in bed, feeling entirely in control of his body for the first time in years. He raises his hand, and sifts it through his gray, dead, greasy hair. His lip twitches, as he turns his head towards the old woman lying across from him.

He thinks of what to do, but can only say one thing. One single name:

"Amata?"

Nice, compact, and deep. I like it.

Interesting. I look forward to reading more.

Double A Plus, Two Thumbs Up, Other Encouraging Comment!

Nice one Comedian. I like the style and the length is good. keep it up.

Thanks for the comments, guys. Expect a bit more tomorrow night More on the Lone Wanderer after the events of Fallout 3. It'll take place at the hospital, but at least 70 years before the first bit.

And don't worry, it'll change to different people soon. I'm going with story arcs, so there will be maybe two connected to [i]Joy & Misery[i]. Thanks again!

Misery

Amata sits silent in bed, with her finger calmly intertwined with one another. As she licks her chapped lips, she turns her head lightly in the direction of The Lone Wanderer.

"Well," She says, in her sad, sad voice, "I guess we have some catching up to do, don't we?"

The Lone Wanderer chuckles, and thinks of how long he's been laying next to, what he always thought, was his first and only love. He hadn't seen her in his entire life. Since he was eighteen years old, he's forgotten all of his friends in the vault.

He remembers the last thing he's ever loved. His dog, Dogmeat. He thinks of how she died; literally jumping in front of a bullet to save the Lone Wanderer's life. As Dogmeat whimpered, and fell limp to the ground, The Wanderer didn't hesitate even for a second to shoot the killer's gun out of his hand.



The Killer grabbed his wrist, and stumbled down to his knee. The Lone Wanderer hurried over to him, and with all force, kicked him across the face while the Killer was still on one knee. With the Killer out cold, he walked back to his poor dog. He had other plans for the shooter.

The Lone Wanderer dropped to a knee, and lifted the dog, and cradled it in his arms. He just shook in anger, and pain. He didn't even cry.

He turned back, and walked to the Killer. Pulling a knife on a holster in his chest, he clenched it tight in his hand. Tight enough to bruise his hand when he was done with the Killer.



The dying old man sighs, at the thought of his past. "This isn't the first time I've been here, you know, Amata."

"I know!" She says, happily, "I know everything you've done. You've done some heroic things. The rangers you've saved-"

"-No." He interrupts, "After the water purifier. I broke down, Amata."

"What?" She says, surprised, "What do you mean?"

"I got a bottle of Scotch, and sat myself in the middle of the hospital lobby." He says, with a frown, "And I waited."

"Waited?"

"For mutants."


The Lone Wander sat in the lobby, sobbing, with bottle in hand. He took another drink, and slouched down. He was sat in a cushioned hospital lobby chair, in the middle of the room; staring at the door.

He waited for big green death to walk through the door, and to rip him apart for the things he did.

People called him a hero for the water purifier. But then others called him a monster for putting the FEV virus into the filtering system. Although the Super Mutant dwindled down to just a few groups, so did the sane Ghouls, and most of the radiation poisoned civilization of the Waste.

Our Lady of Hope was one of the last groups of Super Mutants left. And they all knew who he was. Everyone that suffered has a price on his head. And he waited for sweet release to be brought upon him.

He drank from his bottle, until it was bone dry. Still sitting, he dropped the bottle, and it smashed to a hundred pieces on his feet. He buried his face into his head, and soaked his hands with tears.

"Man up." He said to himself, "You're a [censored] hero." He smiled a sad smile, and it turned into a full cry. Tears streamed down his face.



An older Lone Wanderer rolls over to his side, staring directly at Amata; who was still looking at the ceiling. Amata seems speechless. She doesn't know what to say.

"I waited until someone came." He says to her.

"What happened?" Amata asks

"Someone did come. A girl. She said she was tracking me." The Lone Wanderer said, "She told me, that, because of me, more people lived then would have died. She came over to me, and gave me a hug."

The Lone Wanderer shuffles in his bed, and thinks about what to say next.

"They came in right behind her. I threw her over the counter, as the Mutants instantly opened fire on us. I ran for cover myself, and they managed to miss whatever they shot at me." The Lone Wanderer hesitates, "I ran into the other room... I just heard screams next."

Amata turns her head to the Wanderer, who was crying for the first time in more than eighty years.

"They took her, and dragged her away." He says quietly, "They grabbed her, and took her as their slave!" He starts to get louder. The heart monitor he was hooked up to went faster and faster, "They killed the woman that saved my life!"

The Lone Wander throws his head back on his pillow, and shows his first sign of weakness in years. The heart monitor foes crazy, then finally starts to calm down.

"They took her, and dragged her away..." He repeats for the last time.

Wait...this takes place 70 some years after the first, but he's still old? Or was he 70 years old?

Joy & Misery takes place 70 years after Misery. So, part two is before part one.

The Lone Wanderer was in his death bed, telling Amata the story.