Fanfiction can also appeal to people who did not play the games, as long as a specific details of backstory are outlined. Even though you have already been to a location in game, you should still describe lighting and environment.

However, my points are mostly about writing in general. As for christianity in the wastes, there is little mention of it in settlement towns (for example, megaton and its church of atom) indicating that people who were born in the wastes have little concern for it, or it was forgotten. People who want to know will know, but it is unlikely that people concerned with staying alive for one, or fighting giant scorpions for food for the other (the general population) will care. These are people trying to live, not heroes in the traditional sense. Or, at least that's how I look at it, or how it is conveyed.

Just because the character is christian, and the reader is athiest, doesn't mean that person will dislike or hate the hero. Personally I could careless what the character is, since that person is made-up. They're not real, its just a story. If you take offense against a made up characters religion, then your a really shallow person.

Anyway, great story. I liked it, could have been grittier and built up the tension more, but it was good. Some flaws, but good.

Lots of different people read.

However, if the character has strengths in other areas that blind the reader from his choice of faith, this is acceptible. He just can't be a bible thumper. You are likely to disagree with his cause if he is, and he can come off like a villain.

What if someone wrote a story about a missionary that was part of the Church of Atom. Do you think they would have a problem with that (Maybe if they were a shallow person), I don't know if they would because it is a fake, made up religion. But if that doesn't bother then, then neither should a real religion. They should put aside what problems they have with the characters religion, and just enjoy the story. I think everyone can agree on that. Some maybe can't but I do/did.

[Intelligence]So, he's fighting the good fight by writing a good story?

After publishing a few of my firm's articles in business journals and the like, I'm finally able to revert back to my passion in creative writing. Woo hoo!

Seems like I can write short stories in monthly intervals. I'm loving this writing process as my storyline is evolving. Thanks for reading and the constructive feedback. Loving it.

---------------

Coerced Generosity

Miles away from home, the citizens of Megaton begged me not to light the match. I didn't listen.

Once the flaming stick hit the dried bushes, the wastelanders fled. Attracting the local raiders and radioactive wildlife were the last things my neighbors wanted. But I knew what I was doing. At least, that's what I kept telling myself as I warmed my hands over the blazing pile of dead wood.

After the citizens' footsteps could no longer be heard, I sat in silence. The only audible noises were the crackles from the burning bushes before me. Quite the serene moment.

Such experiences don't last long enough in this mad world. I was reminded of this when a rock the size of my hand bounced past me. Either someone had bad aim or simply desired my attention. Possibly both.

"Hey kid, whatcha doin!?" a voice shouted.

I slowly turned my head and saw a man twenty feet away. His baseball cap covered his greasy hair but couldn't hide a dirty, pimply face. He wore a brown-stained shirt and ragged pants.

"What does it matter to you?" I replied.

The man continued to walk closer. "Well, it's not too often someone actually sets camp in my territory."

"I wasn't aware that the Capital Wasteland was yours."

"Everything and everyone I see is mine, kid." The man revealed a toothless grin.

"I'm surprised you're still alive with all the Radscorpions, Yao Guai and Deathclaws crawling around. Then again, maybe they're smarter than you for not trespassing my land."

I kept my hands at my sides, but close enough to draw my holstered pistol.

The man started giggling. "You amaze me, kid. You don't look scared at all."

"Should I be scared?" I asked.

"You really don't know who I am?" The pimply-faced man laughed. "My name is Jarkis."

Jarkis expected a reaction from me but I stood there silently. Not moving a muscle.

He clenched his teeth before raising his voice. "You'd be [censored]ting bricks if you knew what I've done to youngsters like yourself."

I replied, "What do you want from me, Jarkis? If you can't tell, I enjoy sitting by myself."

The man frowned. "You're stupider than you look, kid. I'll make this quick - drop your weapons before things get... messy."

"Try it, buddy. I see you're not even armed with a gun." I patted my pistol, holstered on my left leg.

Jarkis smirked. "I don't need a gun when I have friends." He clapped his hands.

I heard numerous voices cheering and screaming at the top of their lungs. Raiders. I hate these guys. Their footsteps echoed from the boulders behind me. They waved and shot their guns in the air. What a waste of bullets.

Three individuals with blood-stained clothes ran past me to join Jarkis. Each of them held either a leadpipe or a baseball bat. Their weapons dripped a thick red fluid onto the ground. At least one unlucky soul must have met Jarkis and his men shortly before our introduction.

"You scared now, kid? Four of us and one of you."

This time, I smiled. Not the reaction Jarkis desired or expected. He froze in mid-step.

"Wrong. I count five of you scumbags. Three of your ugly friends next to you. That makes four." I extended my thumb and pointed behind me. "One coward still hiding behind those boulders, holding a bloody ice box to protect your precious loot."

Jarkis' jaw dropped. "How the hell do you know that!?"

"Jarkis the Red Death, you have no idea who you are dealing with."

The raider's face turned pale. He began to stutter. "Y-y-ou know who I am?"

"I know what you've done to my neighbors and their families. Not many folks are sick enough to harvest organs from people while they're still alive. Yes, Jarkis. I know your name very well. And I've been expecting you."

Jarkis took another step back. "K-k-Kill him!"

The single man remaining behind the boulders dropped his box and came out to greet me with a baseball bat. One of Jarkis' nearby henchmen joined him as they both began to circle around me. They raised their baseball bats in unison. The coordinated footwork and synchronized practice swings were red flags that I was facing an experienced and lethal duo.

Although raiders typically used guns, Jarkis' crew didn't want to damage any potential organs they intended to sell - so they often resorted to melee weapons to beat and 'prepare' their victims for surgical submission. Tonight, I'm ending the Red Death's practice.

I reached for the two scabbards packed on my back and grabbed one sword for each hand. These blades were crafted by the Chinese Army when they invaded American soil during World War III. I bought these two particular swords at Moira's Supply shop as they didn't seem too old or rusty. She claimed they were in good condition. Time to see if my bottlecaps paid off.

The two proximate raiders lunged at me simultaneously with a vertical strike targeting my head. I blocked their weapons with each sword in cross form. They pulled back and swung horizontally. This time I ducked and heard the two baseball bats smack each other.

These raiders growled in frustration. They weren't holding back their aggression as they desperately wanted to add my death to their list of stupid accomplishments. They swung again and again with increasing rage but could not make contact with their target.

I could have kept up this defense but I knew I had other sickos to deal with. I blocked another vertical attack with my left sword and horizontally slashed with my right. This maneuver prompted me to spin and pivot on one foot as I continued my swing in a complete 360 degree motion. The momentum of my sword hit home twice.

My two attackers fell to the ground. One of them without his head. The other dropped his baseball bat and grabbed his neck, which spurted out gallons of his lifeline in seconds. His voice gurgled as thick, red bubbles slowly emerged from his mouth.

A minute seemed to pass as Jarkis' men simply stood and stared at their fallen companions. Jarkis' jumping up and down as well as his yelling brought them back to reality. They dropped their melee weapons and grabbed their handguns. They weren't taking any chances anymore. Unfortunately for them, I wasn't either.

Without hesitation, my hands released my swords and drew out my pistols holstered at my hips. Before the discarded blades touched the ground, Jarkis heard two gunshots. I noticed a wet stain spreading from his pants as he recognized the bullet holes in his men's foreheads.

"Where are your friends now, Jarkis?" I muttered as I walked towards him.

The man blinked repeatedly and shook his head. "Th-th- that's impossible! No one! No one is that fast!"

Common sense would dictate that he's right. No one is supposed to be this fast. But one visit to Vault 106 changed everything for me. I holstered my pistols, picked up my swords and sheathed them in their scabbards. Jarkis raised his hands high.

"P-P-please! I don't want to die!" He dropped his backpack and slowly opened it wide. Hundreds of metallic pieces shimmered from the campfire. The raider held his bag of bottlecaps as if it was a pot of gold. If he didn't have a death warrant, he could buy a spacious house and live comfortably in Megaton.

"See? I-I-I can give you my bottlecaps. My guns... everything!"

"I'd like that."

Jarkis smiled. "Thank you!" The man took off his filthy baseball cap and used his right sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "You are a good man!"

"We're not done, Jarkis," I said as I took a stepped forward. The man's eyes widened as he looked up at me.

"We're not?" The smile from his face vanished.

"Justice hasn't been served yet," I replied as I walked closer. "We both know how much pain and suffering you have caused. Donating your belongings won't make things fair and right again."

"Please! I was stupid! I'll never hurt anyone again!" The man moaned. He raised his hands again in surrender and fell down to his knees.

"No, you won't." I cracked my knuckles by interlocking my fingers together and extending them outward. I started walking toward him again.

"No! Wait! I beg you!" Jarkis screamed. Every step I took forward, he took one step backward. I could see his hands shaking uncontrollably and his mouth open wide. Sweat poured down his face as if he completed running a marathon.

"What do you think should be done for your crimes, Jarkis?" I asked as I got nearer. "The death penalty can do only so much, so please... convince me how this world would be a better place with you in it."

When I was three feet away, I stopped. His backward walk also ceased. I wanted an answer. A good one. And he knew whatever was coming out of his mouth would have life-changing consequences.

In seconds, he spoke with excitement. "I-I-I can free all my slaves!"

I snapped my fingers. Jarkis jumped back.

"That's a good start! But what else can you do?" I folded my arms, waiting for a followup answer.

Jarkis' jaw dropped. His eyes looked down in defeat. He shook his head. His breathing became very fast and I can see tears welling up in his eyes.

He cried out, "Please! Just tell me what you want me to do! I'll do anything!"

In a blur, I unsheathed my swords and pointed my blades at the man's jugular. Out of fright, he tripped on his own leg and fell on his back.

"Here's a hint. Tell me something you know I want to hear," I replied with a smile. "Impress me."

"I will! I will! I wi -"

"NOW, Jarkis!" I yelled.

Sweat dripped from his pale face. His eyes darted to the left and right. He was thinking. Hard. In an instant, he looked directly at my face and blurted out a name.

"Jamie! You must find Jamie!" Jarkis cried out.

I dropped one sword and with one free hand grabbed Jarkis by his shirt. I brought his face close to mine. His breath smelled like rotten eggs but I didn't care. I was finally getting something important from this man.

"Who is Jamie? Where is she?"

He shook his head. "No, not she. He's a guy. And he needs help!"

"Why does he need me? And how do you know him?" I stared at his eyes. Jarkis was probably too scared to blink at the moment.

He replied, "It was on the radio half an hour ago. He begged for someone to help him escape this abandoned building. It's called Dunwich. I couldn't hear everything he was saying because of the static."

"[censored], Jarkis." I let go of his shirt and the man fell to his knees. He raised one arm - as if that was going to protect him from me.

"No, it's true! I swear! My boys would have checked it out and robbed him tonight but we don't go anywhere near that building anymore. It's too dangerous and haunted."

I raised one eyebrow. "Haunted? How so?"

"I-I-I don't know. We've heard some crazy ghost stories. I even sent some of my crew there weeks ago. Th-th-they never came back. I didn't want to lose any more of my men so we stay clear of the Dunwich site now."

I raised my sword and swiftly swung it at the raider. Jarkis screamed. The blade stopped two inches away from his neck.

"Jarkis, are you screwing around? I don't have time for lies, much less traps!"

"No, I swear it! On the souls of my family!" His eyes couldn't get any wider than they were. His breathing sped up. His legs were shaking.

"Jarkis," I raised my left blade and pointed it directly at his right eye. He began to wail. His shrieking grew so loud that it began to hurt my ears.

"Shut up!" I yelled as I kicked him in the chest. He landed on his back. The impact knocked the air out of him. He stopped screaming but continued to whimper.

I simply stared at Jarkis. He curled up in a fetal position and covered his face with his hands. Five minutes ago this infamous raider was planning to profit from my murder. Now, he was nothing more but a broken man. But even broken men have value.

"I believe you." I said.

Jarkis uncovered his face with his hands. He looked up at me. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"I'm granting you a new life, Jarkis. But you have to promise me something."

Jarkis vigorously nodded his head.

"Free all your slaves and give them everything you own. Keep enough for yourself to survive but if I don't hear about your generosity when I return, I will hunt you down." He let out a deep sigh of relief as I lowered my weapons.

I raised one finger and pointed it towards the raider. "If you harm anyone ever again you are a dead man. You've seen what I can do and you know I would find you. Do NOT break your promise, Jarkis. That would make things ... messy."

I picked up his bag of caps and closed it. Then I threw it at its owner. The backpack bounced off his chest.

"I promise." Jarkis said. No hesitation. "For the rest of my life, I promise!" The man's sobs grew louder as he repeated himself. "Oh god, I will keep this promise!" He sat cross-legged on the floor, looking down at his bag. Tears streamed down the man's cheeks.

"Congratulations," I said. "You're officially a retired raider. Now do something good for once and tell me where this Dunwich building is."

After weeks of writing and revising, I composed the inevitable followup to my last short story.

Expect a haunting sequel within a month.

----------

The Dunwich Encounter

Beneath the starry sky, one structure stood in the middle of nowhere. The wastelanders called it the Dunwich Building.

Legends claimed that a malevolent force inhabited this building prior to the Chinese invasion. It was so powerful that even World War III's atomic bombardment did not completely destroy the towering skyscraqer. Some folks believed whatever was found in the Dunwich Building prompted China to attack America. What I found most disturbing were the ghost stories. They warned of countless travelers and explorers entering the Dunwich ruins, but no one ever left.

Walking towards this infamous structure, I could see the skyscraqer's surviving bottom five floor levels. Its foundation seemed solid and strong. I kept my head low and jogged around the perimeter of the Dunwich Building. There was something missing. Security. Unlike other surviving shelters, the Dunwich site was void of all radioactive wildlife, robot sentries and territorial raiders. Apparently, even the Capital Wasteland's most deadly predators avoided this region.

But I wasn't seeking shelter or a new home to claim. No, my purpose was different. A few hours ago, a man named Jaime sent out a distress call using the Dunwich Building's radio communications. I intended to rescue him.

Walking nearer to the front entrance, I noticed the cemented patio had a thick, undisturbed layer of dust. Every step I took, I would leave a footprint. I looked up and found several dusty footprints ahead of me. I bent down and studied them. The shapes of the footprints all pointed towards the entrance and never the opposite direction. Perhaps the ghost stories were true. No one ever left the Dunwich Building.

Oddly enough, there was no lock at the front entrance. More surprisingly, even after atomic bombardments, this metallic door seemed fully intact - if not, flawless. I took a deep breath and touched its smooth surface with my left palm. Strange how warm it felt when I pushed it open. My right hand firmly gripped my combat shotgun as I stepped into the Dunwich lobby. The interior was dark and the building's electric power seemed non-existent.

I waited a solid minute and listened for any movement or sign of life. Nothing. I activated my Pip Boy's flashlight. This personal storage device wrapped around my left wrist wasn't the latest model but it had its perks. Illuminating an entire room was all I needed at the moment.

But the artificial light revealed a ghastly sight. Several skeletons sprawled across the floor. The bones on the skeleton were were picked clean and a thick layer of dust settled on their remains. Long streaks of dried brown blood splattered the lobby's walls. The clothing on the dead were nothing but withering rags.

As I took my first few steps into the Dunwich Building, a cold breeze flowed from the inner hallway. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. In mid-step, I heard a raspy voice whisper, "Leave now."

I cocked my gun and pointed it forward. I squinted my eyes to see further but nothing was visible. I silently counted to thirty as my right index finger yearned to pull the trigger on anything that moved. Nothing did.

Another chilling wind brushed past me. Suddenly, I heard the front door entrance slam shut. I nearly jumped as the sound echoed. Without thinking, I sprinted back to the door and grabbed its handles. With a sigh of relief, the metallic door opened again and I looked up to the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly as if they were signaling me to exit.

I wanted to leave this place. Life would have been easier if I took a few steps out the door, pretended nothing happened and moved on in life. I would have returned to Megaton and enjoyed the safety and peace within the city's fortified walls. But no, someone needed me. And his name was Jaime.

I took a deep breath and pivoted around. I slowly walked down the dark hallway past the lobby and came across a room to the left. The sinks, dishwashers and stoves indicated that this room was the building's kitchen. There were more corpses scattered across the tile floors and tables. All of the deceased were covered in old filthy rags and settled dust. This time, however, I noticed some of the dead's limbs laid several feet away from their skeletal bodies. I looked around for any movement but saw none. Whatever killed these people was no longer in this room.

One of the kitchen lights ahead of me flickered. I creeped up towards the light source and saw a bunch of audio disks on the table directly below the bulb. I stopped to scrutinize this pile of data - they were each labeled in chronological numbers with the handwritten name: Jaime. In an instant, the light bulb completely illuminated. I looked around for anyone playing with the kitchen's light switches but I was alone.

I grabbed the audio disks and inserted them into my Pip Boy, according to their designated numbers. While they were uploading, I checked for any other kitchen exits. There were none so I closed the entrance I came in and locked the door.

I sat down on a chair and pressed the Play button on my Pip Boy. At first, I heard static but a few seconds later, I heard a young man's voice from the Pip Boy speakers.

"Day One. Dad left without telling me goodbye and this is my first day out of the hospital since the 'incident.' What could have made him leave without saying 'goodbye?' He must've had his reasons. But the Capital Wasteland is too dangerous for one man. I must find him..."

My heart skipped a beat. It's not everyday you hear about another person's dad ditching his son without warning. But Jaime's first reaction was to look for his father. Should I be looking for my dad too? No, my circumstances were different. My dad didn't want me to leave Vault 101. He said it was the safest place to be. But then again, I don't think Dad anticipated the Overseer trying to kill me. It doesn't matter. I must find Jaime first. He's the one who asked for my help anyway. Not Dad.

The next few journal entries revealed how Jamie encountered a bunch of blood-thirsty raiders. He had to kill them to prevent an entire family from being slaughtered. I haven't even met Jaime but I knew I liked him already. He was a man of faith who pursued justice. Amazingly, God answered his prayers as this rescued family knew of his father's exact whereabouts. They pointed him towards the Dunwich Building. He, too, was warned of the ghost stories. But Jaime went anyway. We have a lot in common, Jaime. I hope we meet soon.

As I was about to listen to the next audio tape, the light bulb's power quickly faded. I immediately stopped the audio playback and listened. A few seconds later, I heard something shuffling outside the kitchen. Reflexively, I turned off my Pip Boy light and readied my gun.

The noise became more distant. After unlocking and opening the kitchen door, I walked into the hallway corridor with my gun ready. The noises seemed further away. They were coming from one of the rooms a couple of doors down. I edged closer to the targeted door and recognized the woman's restroom sign on it.

I opened the door and gagged as a putrid smell filled my nostrils. The smell seemed to be a combination of puke, [censored] and death. Whatever the source was, it almost made me gag. The room's lights were flickering, revealing stalls on the right hand side. There was another section of the restroom to my left but it was blocked by a thin wall. The noises came from behind the wall.

I knew someone was around the corner as a shadow of a man lay six feet ahead of me. His shadowy form was hunched over, looking down at the floor. As I stepped closer along the restroom's walls, I heard the man's deep breathing and something else - a voice. It was filled with mucuous and sounded like gurgling. Was this person in trouble? Was he pleading for help? Could this be Jamie? My heart was pounding.

Before I turned the corner, the restroom's light went out. I couldn't even see my own hand. The gurgling noise was louder and the foul odor was overwhelming. I had to see who was in front of me. I turned on my Pip Boy light and readied my combat shotgun. What I saw was beyond human comprehension. Instinctively, I screamed and pulled the trigger.

And then all hell broke loose.

Mewie rides again! Woo! :foodndrink:

Good stuff. I wish I could say more, but you simply have a track record of putting out material between amazing and consistently solid. Let's see a bit more, yeah?

Intense... I mean I hate you for such a cliffhanger ( :ahhh: ), but your writing is really good. I'm liking this story more and more.

Can't wait for the next chapter.

Thanks for your patience, and more importantly, reading my stories.

-----------------

The Dunwich Residents

It must have spawned from the pits of hell.

From a distance, this thing could easily be confused as a human. But what I saw in this confined, debilitated restroom was absolute terror. The creature seemed to have been skinned alive and somehow survived. Thin, transparent mucuous-like fluids covered its humanoid body revealing pink and dark, red muscular tissue. The thing was topless and wore ragged pants, barely providing any cover for its crimson limbs. I could see its upper torso muscles pulsing as organic liquids dripped onto the cracked, blemished tile floor.

With its flammulated back facing me, the hairless creature hunched over on its knees. Its bloody hands violently dug into something. No. Someone. At its feet, a corpse of a woman laid face-down. Its monstrous claws scooped chunks of moist meat from her ravaged back. My jaw dropped as I realized this thing was feeding on what was left of her. I tasted bile surging up my throat a split-second before I vomited.

The creature stopped chewing the fleshy scraps trailing from its mouth and turned its grotesque face towards my direction. Its glazed eyes were void of any pupils but I knew it could see the fear written all over my pale, stricken face. The monster screamed as it lunged. Its razor-sharp claws were inches away from my neck just before my shotgun blew a gaping hole through its chest. I stared at its fallen form and breathed a sigh of relief.

Feral Ghouls.

From what I've read, these things were once people. The excessive exposure to radiation inevitably caused their hair and entire skin to peel off. What's left was a bunch of organs and muscles held intact by a thin film of radioactive organic glue. Wastelanders classifed these zombie-like animals as high-risk encounters. Feral ghouls could never be reasoned with due to their overtly aggressive behaviors and they seemed to attack everything and anyone who wasn't a decrepit, flesh-deteriorating ghoul. Some of the most violent ones even started glowing. Their radiation-saturated brains destroyed any sense of humanity. Every breath and action taken were to serve one carnal need: to feed.

When I shot the feral ghoul, it died instantly. But the gun's noise blast grabbed the attention of other Dunwich residents. I could hear their chilling screams and their slimy feet pattering nearby. They came in full force without any hesitation.

I sprinted back towards the kitchen door. At least that room only had one entrance - with a lock. As I stepped into the hallway, my heart sank as I saw rapid movement ahead. Without hesitation, I pulled my shotgun's trigger. Repeatedly.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The spread of the shotgun blasts ripped four of these creatures in half. Their slimy body parts splattered the hallway with a thick, red streaks. But there were more ghouls. A lot more. I unleashed more firepower through the narrow hallway. Three of these radiated zombies' heads exploded from point-blank range. But the Dunwich Building's residents kept coming. Everytime one fell, another berserking ghoul sprung forward. Their collective shrieks felt like a needle stabbing into my ear drums. Oh God, there were too many!

One frantic monster closed in and knocked the shotgun out of my hands. I swung my right leg in a crescent motion and made contact with its deformed face. I heard a squishy sound as my boot's impact initiated a clothesline effect. Its clawed feet flew upwards and the creature landed on its neck. I couldn't help but smirk when I heard something snap.

My smile disappeared when I felt a sharp burning pain from my right shoulder. I turned my head to see a feral ghoul's canine teeth sinking into my flesh. Screaming in pain, I flexed my left hand's index and middle finger and jabbed them into the monster's face. The swift motion resulted in impaling both of the ghoul's eyesockets. I heard something pop as my digits pressed onward towards the creature's brain. It released its bite from my shoulder and howled. I shut the thing up with an uppercut to its gooey chin, forcing its limp, scarlet body to soar backwards.

I looked down to find my gun but there were too many corpses and torn limbs on the floor. Blood seemed to ooze everywhere. All I saw was red. The Dunwich Building's lack of lights didn't help either. My eyes focused ahead towards the kitchen door and saw more of these creatures emerging from the rooms' entrances nearby. Their screams got louder and louder.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar chilling breath behind me and heard that raspy voice again. "Run!"

I pivoted but didn't see anyone. It didn't matter as I knew what I needed to do. I turned off my Pip Boy's light and ran.

I could hear the ghouls' sharp piercing cries behind me. Their fleshy feet slapped against the ground. They sounded as if rotten eggs splattered across the tile floor. [censored], they smelled just as bad too. The ghouls' stench grew stronger. They were getting closer.

I didn't know how long I could outrun them so I reached into my backpack and pulled out my Stealth Boy. I clipped the clunky cone-shaped gadget on my wrist and activated it once I turned the corner. This technological wonder enabled my entire body to be cloaked with my immediate surroundings so long as I didn't make any sudden movements. I only used it sparingly since its camouflage effect consumed ridiculous amounts of battery power. I think my dire circumstances justified its use at the moment.

Stealth Boys never provided complete invisibility. I confirmed that as I looked down to see my body's frame distorting the wall's visible textures behind me. I stood against the indentation of the wall as one feral ghoul ran passed me. It didn't even glance at the human-shaped wall to its right. Another sprinted past me. And then another. After what seemed like an eternity, their fleshy footsteps could no longer be heard. Thank God their radiated brains equated to stupidity.

I quietly made my way to the next room and closed its door - just in time as the Stealth Boy's battery power shut down. I locked the room's only entrance and switched on the Pip Boy light. The room had a sign above the door: A27.

I took a step away from the door and turned around. Whatever hope I had left in me evaporated as the Pip Boy light illuminated Room A27. The sight of partially-eaten corpses littered around the chamber didn't faze me. But I nearly cried when I recognized the dozens of rusty man-sized barrels. Each one had a labeled picture of three curved blocks revolving around a centered circle. My legs shook and I fell to my knees as I saw glowing yellowish-green fluids leaking out of the pile of barrels. Toxic waste. There was radiation everywere.

My breathing became shallow as a haunting thought struck me. Whatever abilities and strengths I gained from Vault 106, they were gone - ever since I entered the Dunwich Building. Why didn't I sense the ghouls ahead of time? How could I have been attacked so easily? The answers laid right in front of me.

Constant exposure to this raw and harmful energy were sapping away my life. And those rabid ghouls were loving it. Even worse, rumors mentioned that their radioactive bodies evolved and thrived in toxic environments. From faster running speeds to supernatural strengths, these Dunwich bastards were very hard to kill. I could never fight my way out of this.

The thought of becoming their next meal in the Dunwich Building caused me to shudder. I caught a glimpse of my right shoulder. Blood continued to gush out and my arm seemed alarmingly pale. My fingers were trembling and cold sweat dripped from my chin. My vision began to blur and my body was overheating with a fever. My eyes felt heavy and I yearned to close them. But I knew if I fell asleep I would never wake up again.

God, I needed to hear a human voice again. I looked down at my Pip Boy. At least, I could listen to Jaime's voice while bleeding to death. I wondered if the radiation sickness would kill me first as I pressed the Play button.

Jaime's audio taped voice spoke, "My God! There are no survivors in this building - if they're not eaten first, they all become [censored] monsters! Damn radiation is killing me. Whatever is in this building is powerful."

I shook my head and clenched my fists. If only I heard this tape sooner, I would have left without question. I could have at least returned with a radiation suit. Way to go, dumb ass. How could I have been so stupid?

Jaime's audio tape continued. "But there is hope. Go to Room A27."

Did he just mention Room A27? There was nothing but dead bodies and enough radioactive wastes to attract an entire ghoul city! What the hell was Jaimie talking about?

The recorded voice played on. "You'll find something that saved my life. Check the closet."

I mustered up whatever strength I had left and slowly stood up. My legs felt sluggish as I limped forward into the room. Scanning for anything that didn't look like a toxic barrel or dilapidated leftovers from a ghoul's lunch. But then something caught my eye. A metallic reflection shimmered from behind a pile of corpses. I hobbled closer and recognized the steel box. Its handles were facing up. There was a fresh handprint disturbing the closet's dusty surface. I opened the storage unit and almost yelled with joy as I gazed upon a rack of sealed and bagged radiation suits. Jaime, you are a saint!

In minutes, a perfectly conditioned protective suit covered my entire body. I knew I looked ridiculous with the bulging black glass-visor helmet and the synthetic blue rubber garments. But none of that mattered.

In seconds, I felt as if I just rejuvenated from a long restful sleep. My shoulder stopped hurting. The fever was gone. I felt strength returning to my legs and my hands no longer shook. I raised my arms in truimph. There was hope. Thank you, Jaime.

I looked down at my Pip Boy and realized that the audio tape was almost done. Jaime's tone changed. He sounded agitated. Almost desperate. He spoke slowly. "I don't know how long I can stay here in the basemant. There's enough food to last for a few weeks and my radiation suit should hold up. If you get this message, it means Dad didn't die in vain. He --."

Suddenly, I heard a distinct mucous-filled gurgle from the Pip Boy speakers. My body jolted as the recording emitted what sounded like a series of gunshots. A few seconds later, I could only detect static. I looked down at the Pip Boy display. The audio tape ended.

I reached into my backpack and gripped my silencer pistol. Jaime, hang in there. I'm coming for you. I turned off the Pip Boy light and opened Room A27's door. My renewed senses could detect the ghouls' movements. All of them seemed occupied and clustered near the kitchen. I ran towards the opposite direction into unexplored territory. My steps were light enough to remain hidden. Within a minute, I walked downstairs to what had to be the basemant entrance.

As I touched the door's handles, I heard someone's footsteps. These weren't the typical slimy meat-slapping noises. The steps were crisp as they tapped against the tile floor. Whoever was inside was wearing shoes!

My heart began to beat faster. With my pistol in one hand, I single-handedly pulled the door handle with the other. I slowly created an inch of open space between the door frame and the door itself.

Pointing my silencer through the narrow opening, I whispered, "Jaime?"

The shoes stopped pacing. A familiar raspy voice whispered back, "Leave while you still can."

"No way. Not without you!" I replied. I didn't risk my life just to be rejected.

I pulled the door wide open and rushed inside the pitch dark room. A flashing white light suddenly illuminated the entire basemant. I instinctively raised my left arm to deflect the surging brightness but it was too late. My eyes stung. Numbness spread over my face as the intense luminosity blinded me.

The raspy voice yelled, "You should have left, Vault Dweller!"

And before I could react, the basemant door slammed shut.

I really enjoy this, but there's just something about the POV, or how you're writing it, that's stopping me from fully enjoying this.

Thanks for the candid feedback!

I hear ya. First person isn't my preferred writing POV. I'm annoyed with the lack of flexibility I have with pronouns and subject references. I only found this POV applicable since the Lone Wanderer gameplay itself is a FPS-perspective. Makes me feel more immersed.

Although I write for a living in the professional services industry, I'm still new to creative writing. Loving the learning process. Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

I lean more towards journalism and non-fiction writing, so I'm not used to creative writing also. If I were in your shoes, I would've used the third-person POV because you're telling a story about other people living out your experiences in game. It would've flowed better in my opinion, but it's a good read nonetheless.