» Tue Dec 15, 2009 3:41 am By ZuluFoxtrot
Part 1
I should've known because the day began softly. Usually, on a day when you can see the clouds dragging themselves away from you, slowly, something bad happens. Someone dies of radiation poisioning, a caravan carrying our supplies gets raided, we get some [censored] launching missiles at us... I've spent my life watching the horizon through a scope. I've seen danger come, and I've seen danger go. Each time with better or worse consequences than the last. But what was about to happen would change our lives forever.
It's human nature to need a reminder of what could happen, when something goes one way so many times. Like walking into a Raider camp - you might start to think that all Raider camps are small and you can eliminate them. Then you wander into a bigger one, and it's only if you survive that, that you recieve the reminder you needed. I always had it in my head that the only way the Raiders think is, "People have stuff. We want stuff. Bullets kill people. Shoot bullets at people and take their stuff." And I suppose it is true. But I also imagined that situation as a group of greased up men charging at their enemies, spamming their weapon's trigger until their target is dead or they have to reload. I thought they were stupid. I mean, if they run out of ammunition, they'll run at their enemy and start brawling with them, even if their enemy is a fully-armed Brother of Steel.
It was morning. Everyone was doing the usual - eating, sleeping or [censored]. I was doing my own usual, perched on the edge of my seat, scanning the view in front of me. It's obvious why so many people love Rivet City as a place to live. We're secure, we're organized and we aren't stupid. I felt my eye flicker as I spotted someone approaching the small frame, the only entrance to Rivet City without getting shot, and that's if we decided to extend the bridge. Quickly, I yelled, "Roger, we've got a live one!" Roger joined me, nesting his scoped assault rifle on a short ledge. A few minutes passed and my crosshair didn't leave the centre of his chest. I could tell Roger's hadn't either.
The man was wearing a blue, grimey RobCo jumpsuit, tinted sunglasses and a red baseball cap. He had nothing in his hand except from a medium-sized, leather suitcase. He walked casually towards the intercom and dropped his suitcase. It stayed upright. He placed his finger on the green button, leaned in slowly, and spoke. "Hello." he said. His voice was calm and influencing, like he was whispering. He hadn't said hello for a response; he was greeting us. I admit, I was suspicious of him, but I replied as normal. "Greetings, sir. Welcome to Rivet City. Please raise your hands in the air and give me a 360 degree turn." This was usually the part where they pulled out their gun and started firing menacingly at us, before we promptly punctured their lungs with our .308 calibre rounds. Instead, he did as was asked, slowly raising his hands and turning, easing in and out of motion. Once he had finished, he lowered his hands and looked directly at me. I leaned into the intercom and spoke again, not taking my eyes off of him.
"Thank you, sir. We will know extend the bridge. Do not attempt to open your suitcase or you will be shot. Once you get close enough, I will tell you to wait where you are, whilst me and my colleagues search your suitcase. I repeat, cross the bridge, stop where I say, or you will be shot." He did not flinch. I signalled to the our bridgekeeper, at a much higher level. A few moments passed. Suddeny a rusty, low-pitched screech could be heard, as the bridge rotated itself at an axis. The noise continued, and me and Roger, who hadn't said anything yet, were still locked onto him. Finally, the bridge had extended itself to him. He waited for the noise to stop completely, and then walked slowly down the bridge, towards us.
