The Protégé

Chapter 1

The embers licked against the placid sky, looking for more fuel to feed its rage. Along the line of fire was a building in flames now, all but burned to the ground. A boy lay motionless on the floor, barely alive, barely breathing. A couple yards away from him two shadows spoke in hushed whispers.

"What are we going to do about the boy? We can't just leave him here."

"His parents were the main concern, they were our objective.

"But we can't kill him."

"We can't take him either. If we turn up with the child of these fiends, we'll lose our jobs. Or worse, they could kill him. I'm afraid we don't have a choice."

"Well, can we at least give him some stuff to--"

"This is Ranger outpost Omega, come in! We are receiving fire from the North, just outside of your position. Get your asses over there and flank our enemies!"

"Got it, we're on our way. Let's go, Boone."

The two character's ran off into the darkness ahead, leaving the boy to drift out of consciousness.

When his wary eyes open again, he dizzily looks around to notice that he is now suspended in the air. A man is holding him, a cigar in his mouth. He looks down at the boy and smiles a golden-capped smile. The boy fades back out, head slumping and hanging limply over the man's gloved hands. The next time he awakes, he feels better, but realizes that the pain from his head is quite excruciating. He tried to get up, look around, but can't bring himself to move. Above him, he sees tan concrete, and a fire burns in a nearby barrel. The gold-capped man kneels with a spoonful of some broth and a needle. He carefully lifts the boys arm and injected the needle, then propped the boy's mouth open and dropped the spoons contents inside.

"There, there," he said, holding up the boys neck so he could swallow. "Everything will be alright."

Very, very nice. I like it, short and sweet. Can't complain it was an excellent start to a fanfic and this might actually make it on to my all time favorites, providing that you can finish it. I noticed you missed a quotation mark near the beginning, a tiny error. And:

"This is Ranger outpost Omega, come in! We are receiving fire from the North, just outside of your position. Get your asses over there and flank our enemies."

Maybe you should italicize that one, it's quite confusing when it was just them talking and then this comes one. Took me a minute to figure out that it was a radio. Other than that. Marvelous, looks great, keep up the good work Ant.

Good Luck.

Wait a second... Was the name Boone really just spoken?

Jesus Christ. I'm addicted.

Thanks Ytt for the feedback and the gratuitous compliment.

And to Happy, yes Boone will be featuring in this story, but not for a while though. At least, as far as what I have planned. But maybe we can throw something about him in as a filler though. . . anyway, without further ado, here's the next chapter.

Chapter 2

The boy awoke yet again, this time less dizzy. He sat up almost instantly, and neglected the sharp pain in his abdomen in search for the man who presumably rescued him. There he was, sitting on a workbench, cigar perched ever so loosely between his lips. THe only thing between him and the boy was the fire, and his face was all that was revealed, giving it a kind of wavy aura as the flames seemed to lick at his rugged beard. He turned and noticed the boy looking at him, and they met eyes for a second, then his gaze slid away back to some fixed point on the cement-work.

"Who are you?" The boy asked cautiously. The man smiled, and then spoke, his face distorted by the heat waves. "My name, is Joseph. Yeah, call me Joseph."

"Who am I?" The boy asked again. This froze the man for a second, but only a second. His smile seemed to go deeper than just the boy's face this time. It seemed to pierce the boy, as if searching through him like a discarded bag, looking for an answer to his question. After a long moment of silence, he began to speak. " 'Fraid I don't have the answer to that question. I found you by a burning house by the edge of some road." He stood up and looked at the boy, his head cocked to the side inquisitively. "Do you know your name?"

The boy shook his head.

"Well then, looks like we're gonna have to give you one." He walked back to the opposite bench and rummaged through a cabinet, then grabbed from it a can. The boy couldn't read the sign, but could tell it was soupy and red as Joseph poured it out, into a bowl. He gave it to the boy and he drank it sloppily.

"How's about Richard? You like that name?"

The boy continued to drink.

"Okay . . . Sean, then. That good?"

The boy looked up this time, still sipping the stew. In return the man just looked at him for a while, his face unreadable. Then he suddenly snapped his fingers rowdily. "Hah! Hot damn. We'll call you Lucky." He gestured in a way that said 'how could you refuse?'. The boy was done with his broth now, and set it to the side before painfully getting up, walking to the door. He didn't exit, just opened it slightly, realizing he was at a gas station. There was a billboard not too far from them, and another old shack, probably the store part of the station to his left, but besides that nothing.

"What about my parent's?" He asked, not breaking his gaze. There was another long silence, followed by advancing footsteps. "I don't know who your parents are, or where they are. I found you out by an old shack. You were . . . the only one alive when I saw you."

The boy didn't grimace or choke up, as most would when they received this kind of grievous information. He simply replied, "I want to go home. I want to go to where you found me. Take me to where you found me."

"I don't think thats such a good idea."

"Take me."

"It's not safe to be out at night, I think if--"

"Take me, I want to go." The boy persisted, his voice beginning to elevate now.

"Son, I--" Joseph took some more steps forward now, but was stopped in his tracks by the boy's elevating temper.

"I wanna go home!" The boy yelled, bursting through the door. He ran now, screaming at the top of his lungs, arms flailing wildly. He didn't really even know where home was, or where he should look. He didn't remember his parent's faces in order to recognize their now burnt corpses. He didn't remember a damn thing about himself, but sill he ran.

From the door the man looked, knowing he wouldn't go far till he collapsed on the ground. He sympathized or the boy, and gave him his space. Have him the time required to realize that his parents, his past, was all gone. The boy was on his knees now, probably sobbing. Joseph was about to head out and get him, when he heard a noise. It came from far in front of him, in front of the boy. It was a rattling noise. Very faint, almost impossible to pick up on from so far. Against the dirt and sand he strained his eyes to see what couldn't be seen. Then he heard it again, from the same distance, but it sounded more intense this time. Like there was more than one thing making the noise. The boy heard it this time himself, and looked around for its source. Then, one last time it was heard, and the boy looked and found it. He followed the boys eyes, and saw three dark brown rattlers, and six sets of blue and yellow eyes.

"Oh [censored]." Joseph grabbed his rifle from the edge of the bench and ran out, while the creatures ran at the same time, both parties running for the same thing. Joseph got to him first, but they were still closing in, their tongues licking savoringly at the air, their tails rattling in anticipation. He fired one shot at the fray, hoping to scare them off more than hitting them. They still advanced, unfazed by the shot. The boy was whimpering now, shuffling backwards, slipping on the dirt. With a grunt, Joseph hauled him up with one arm and flung him around his back. Then he ran faster for the house.

The nightstalkers were on him now, at most ten yards away and still advancing. He fired three more shots, two penetrating one in the chest and face and he fell to the ground with a whine, and stay there. One of the remaining two jumped at him, and he managed to prop the barrel of his gun into the things venomous jaws, and fired. He had one remaining bullet left now, and the door was right behind him. He knew it would hurt, but as the final nightstalker dove at him, fangs bared, he had no choice but to dive backwards through the door himself as he fired the last shot into the beasts throat.

He landed with a thud on the boy, and the nightstalker landed on him. The boy cried out on pain, then scrambled fro under the two bodies, running into the corner where his bed lay. The man hefted the dead body off of him, taking care not to cut himself on the fangs, and then clapped his hands up and down, trying to clean them of whatever fleas and pests and dirt may have been on its fur, "Yeah," he said, now dusting his jacket as he looked at the boy, who has his knees drawn to his chest with his arms wrapped around, still looking dead at the nightcrawler.

"We'll call you Lucky."

I like it so far.

I'm glad you do, monster thief. This one is a little slow to start but it picks up in the end. Tell me what you guys think.


Chapter 2

Red rays slowly crept over the horizon, washing the world anew with a rich palette of crimson and orange. The sun climbed arduously up the mountainside, striving to be seen. Joseph was there, as he was almost every day he had to change, to watch its victory. Triumphantly, the sun pulled himself over the last peak and radiantly shown down on the world, pleased with itself.

Once Joseph had his full, he receded into the confines of the garage, looking at the boy now who was sleeping. He walked over to him and quietly woke him.

"Let's go, its day light, and we have stuff to do," Joseph said. He had a plan for Lucky, he was to teach him a little bit about wasteland survival. THe boy woke slowly, looking around for a while in bewilderment, as if he had no idea where he was. His eyes rested on Joseph for a while, the lost look still on his face. Then, recognition swept through him. He realized who Joseph was as well as where he was and how he'd gotten there. It seemed to only darken his mood, and he rested his head back on his pillow.

Joseph sighed, then arose. He'd just lost both of his parent's its okay if he gets some more rest. Joseph walked out of the garage and headed towards the road, pulling out a map from a pocket inside his jacket. He looked at the mountains looming over him, at least a couple dozen miles away. He glanced down was the x on the map. "New Haven" it read. From where he was he couldn't see it, and it was always that way. He'd been traveling from Rust City, past Hoover Dam. The only reason he had left the comfort of such a city was because he'd heard of some Vault's in Vegas. Like the one his great grandmother emerged from, back when Rust City was a collection of old dilapidated buildings. During his travels he came across this map, scouring the Wastes. The map told of a city, not to far from Vegas. It was supposed to be a safe place, where food was clean, and people could live Raider free. Thats where he was head . . . well, them now.

He heard footsteps behind him, Lucky was awake. He walked up and looked at Joseph, squinting against the sun. The old man put his map away and smiled his capped smile. He put his map away and walked away in the direction of the storefront of the gas station. Behind it was a couple bottles of whiskey and his old trusty 10mm. The boy couldn't have been more than ten or eleven, so he figured a hunting rifle'd be too much. He wanted to start with the basics.

"Pick up that gun there." He said, and Lucky did as he was told. "Now, you see those bottles there. I want you to shoot them." Joseph said. The boy nodded, and lifted the weapon. He looked at the bottles, and then fired two shots, the first of the two blasting a bullet in the wall and the second firing almost 90 degrees into the air. Joseph sighed. He'd have to go all the way back to the basics.

"No, no no, hold it like this." He grabbed the gun and the boys hands. "Hold it sturdy, and fire. Make sure you brace for the recoil."

"What's recoil?"

"When you shoot it and it flies up, that's recoil."

"Oh,"

The boy fired again, missing but not allowing the gun to recoil as badly. He steadied it and fired again, and the glass burst.

"Good," Joe said.

The training continued, the boy eventually hit all three, and managed to do it in one clip. That was a good sign. After that, Joe taught him about some of the things he'd have to shoot that would fight back.

"There are things out here that'll try to kill you. That thing you saw last night was a nightstalker. They are coyotes and rattlesnakes mixed together. They are very dangerous and if one bites you, our in trouble."

And so the lecture went on, the Joseph talked, and Lucky listened. That was until, a couple of coyotes could be heard not too far from them. It was around noon now, and they were laying outside the gas station against an overturned car, drinking water. Joe had the dirty water, and he had given Lucky the purified one. They were resting, watching the landscape, enjoying the moment of peace.

"You hear that?" Joe whispered. The boy remained still. They heard the howls. Joe saw five coyotes, three pups, and what must've been the parents. He spoke to the Lucky. "Get under the car." Lucky looked for a second, then did as he was told, but not before grabbing the pistol. Joe stood up, then yelled at the crew, getting their attention. Then, a clawed hand just jumped into the savanna, smacking one of the coyotes across the small quarry. The horned beast continued its rampage, throwing the dogs about like toys. It was a massacre.

Joseph crouched to Lucky. "I need you to move. I need you go to te the garage, and get in." "The boy though, didn't budge. Lucky just watched, jittering and shaking. His lip was trembling now. He was muttering "Help, me. Take me, help me."

"I'm trying to tell you what to do, get up and get to the garage. It doesn't see it yet.

"Help me, oh I can't move. Its gonna get me."

"Joe was getting frustrated now. If he didn't move quickly, once that deathclaw got finished with those mangy dogs that would leave only them two. They needed to move while they still had the chance. He began to pull the boy out, and with some effort, managed to get him about halfway through when he heard a growl. This one wasn't from any small animal through. This one was deep, menacing, and trademark. He didn't dare look back. He placed the boy back under the overturned car and walked around it.

And then, he heard the footsteps.

Any comments before I get started on my next chapter? Criticisms? Wows and wonders? I don't want any laggers to get too behind in my story so your could consider this a bump. T -24h left!

It's been a while since I posted, hope you like this Rather short, I realize.


Chapter 3

The teeth were first. Those scary yellow spikes, all sharpened past any razor. From the space in between Joseph saw tendrils of coyote flesh dangling. The horns were next, the protruding beasts of whatever constitution no one knew. Maybe they were ivory, maybe made from something even stronger. The closest anyone had gotten to those horns were "too close for comfort".

But the worst thing of all were its eyes. Just two, white gleaming dots. Ablaze with bloody gruesome thoughts, the hatred of the beast emanated from them. It struck fear into the strongest of men. It paralyzed you. Joseph was trying to pull himself together, for Lucky's sake. He freed himself from the deathclaws penance stare, but not with enough time to dodge its swipe. Thankfully he missed the claws, but the impact from the beast's palm slammed into his rib cage and sent him sprawling into the dust.

"Lucky! Stay put!" He spat at the boy, rolling over. The pistol emerged from his waist, he'd grabbed it right before he was hit. He winced and grabbed at his ribcage. He didn't need to be a doctor to tell that his ribcage was broken and depressed from the smack.

He struggled to his feet and fired wild shots at the deathblow, while it scratched at the car, sensing more food was near. Its back erupted with red dots from where Joe's bullets hit, and it turned to him. He gave a snort before lumbering towards Joseph now, bloody thoughts or carnage erupting in his head. He scrambled in a bee line for the garage door, which was behind the creature. He needed to get his rifle, the flimsy pistol wouldn't be enough to fell the beast.

As the monster swiped he ducked and rolled under its hand, losing his hat in the process. He went through the door and closed it just as the claw impacted on it. The beasts claws were undoubtedly and impossibly sharp, and because of that, they had gotten stuck in the wooden door. Joseph took advantage of this and broke the biggest one off, presumably the middle finger. The beast roared furiously from outside and pulled his hand out, causing the wood to splinter and chip, opening a large hole.

Joseph seized this opportunity and grabbed his hunting rifle, and when the beast lowered its ugly face to slam through the door, Joseph fired. The monster lolled to the side slowly, head reeling from the shot. Joseph fired four more times, emptying the clip on it. It fell to the ground, face now red with blood. After it hadn't moved for some time, Joe tentatively opened the door and stepped over the tail of the monster to the boy. Lucky was still under the car, crying again. Joseph realized the rifle was still in his and and dropped it, hoping not to further frighten the boy. He then walked over the the overturned car and crouched so they could see each other.

Lucky was in hysterics, his hair was matted and wet, and so was his whole face, The ground in front of him was now muddy with tears. He looked at Lucky, searching for words. When none had come, he swallowed and reached for the boy, pulling him through the burnt vehicle. He carried him, just as done before when he found him, to their house.

"Close your eyes," he said when thy approached the carcass, through the door, and stopping at the bed. Then, he turned and headed for the deathclaw, blade now in hand. He began to hack at the deathclaws horn and its hide, figuring they could eat or sell it. Meanwhile, the sun was lowering itself against the peaks once again. Dusk was arriving. When Joseph finished, he checked in on Lucky. He had found himself some Instamesh and was sitting on the bed, eating silently. He wanted to apologize, so sympathize, to console him. He felt bad that trauma had found its way so relentlessly to the poor kid.

"Seep good tonight, we might be on the road again tomorrow," was all he said.

I like it. Your descriptions are very dinamic and paint clear pictures. You need to work on your grammar a bit, (things like apostrphies and comas) but I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

Chapter 4

Lucky awoke late that night. He had been sleeping all day, and his dreams were far from peaceful. He rubbed his dreary eyes and sat up, propping his back against the cold concrete. Joseph was sitting at a work bench, working on something Lucky couldn't see from his angle.

"Sleep good?" He didn't look up from his work.

"No,"

"Why not?"

"Bad dream,"

"I haven't had a good one in the past ten years," He continued to work as he spoke. "Thats what this world does to you. It changes you. And if you can't handle it . . ." He trailed off. The boy didn't need to hear that at his age. Not this soon.

Joseph rose and walked over to the boy, handing a small box with a black extension protruding from one side. The front had an area that had wire mesh on the front. There were also knobs and button on the side and top.

"It's a walkie-talkie."

The boy inspected it, pressing the buttons. nothing had happened.

"It doesn't work. It's hollow." The man grabbed it and tapped on it. "See? I didn't put anything in it yet. The way it works is, you hold this button here and speak into it. Then, the other person who has this same thing can hear you."

He stuffed it in his faded green backpack. Lucky noticed the blood stains on it. Joseph looked at where Lucky's eyes were, then up at him.

"You'll be safe," He threw the bag over his shoulder, then reached his hand out.

"You ready?"

Lucky pulled back, now suddenly alert. The drowsiness has drained from him. He wanted his parents. He wished he remembered his own way home.

"You said we were leaving in the morning."

"Yeah, well you woke up at night. The quicker we leave the more distance."

"Where are we going?"

"Don't worry about it."

Lucky hesitated for a while, his eyes looking at the gloved hand of the man who had supposedly dashing him. They were dirty hands, the fingernails were stained with dirt and dried blood. They were scratched and calloused, and withered.

He pushed past the hand and opened the door. At this Joseph chuckled. He was also grateful that he had moved the Death Claw's body from the front door, as it would have been a whole 'noter situation if he saw it.

The two quickly found the road north and began their walk.

* * *

There was one light that shone in the room. Besides that the only things inside its neatly polished white walls were two people. The light shone directly on the mans balding forehead, which was glistening from sweat. The sweat wasn't coming from the forehead however, it was from fear.

"Where is he?" A mans voice said. His voice was eerily calm, as always.

"No, no please, don't . . ." The man in the seat was sobbing, his jaw was throbbing and very, very beaten, but not to the point where he could not talk. Hit chest was inflamed, his was all but broken, and one of his eyes was gouged out. "I can't tell you anymore," He said quietly, weeping to himself.

"What!"

"I can't tell you anymore!" He screamed. He tried in vain to break free from his bondages, but to no avail of course, Even if he had, there was no escape. The room was locked, and the calm man was the one with the key.

"Are you suuure?" He said, still in the same calm voice.

"Please kill me. Please, please kill me." The man muttered. Oven the most mundane tasks were difficult to him now. Talking required muscles that had been torn and lacerated. Even raising his head was difficult now to to the shot nerves in his neck from the speck of the blows.

"Oh I will, but there's still more information to be gotten from you, and you are no use to us dead." He dropped his pipe and rolled the chair back into the corner of th room, where the machine waited.

"No! No, no no no don't do it! He worked for us until last year, then he left."

"And why did he leave? Surely you and your lot was paying him well to do his job." The man said. He had turned on the machine, which was now humming quietly. The power of 3000 watts were now ready for use. He was attaching the wires to the chair now.

"He was tired of doing it. He said he'd rather survive alone than take another life. He was headed for New Haven."

At this the name stopped. Finally, a concrete direction. So Nevada was his next location.

"Very well," he then continued to strap the final pieces to the mans arms and head. "You get what you wished for." He turned the voltage to maximum and switched the power on, and walked out of the room. The sounds of the mans shrieking echoing though the chamber. And on it went, until he reached his sleeping quarters.

And he rested to the sounds of suffering, until all was silent.

Despite the fact that you write good fanfic, you never seem to get much comments, interesting.

At any rate, this is certainly something to behold, I love the way you crafted it. Flows smoothly and I can just float on your words as if I was in a stream. Though it's not perfect, for example:



Bad character development, emotion, depth thingy you've got going on. That's not very believable, you need more detail on his thoughts, emotions, facial expression, key things that allow to get us attached to a character or even add a touch of realism to the story. Without it, your characters or static and kinda of boring to read.

Other than that though, great job.

The character depth stuff, is that with every character, or just that one?

Yeah, Ytt hadn't answered my question, so this has been added as a more filling supplement. Here are some pictures of the character's and crap.

http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=§ion=&q=man+in+cowboy+hat#/d2zm1cs

http://rhynn.deviantart.com/art/Portrait-of-a-young-boy-128527739?q=boost%3Apopular%20young%20boy&qo=29

http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=§ion=&q=fallout+gas+station#/d2ui6q8

Enjoying the story, there are typo's here and there. The tale is quite interesting so far, please continue.