FO4 | Book 0: The Diaries of Anarchy ✔️

May 28, 2282

"Goddamn it," said a shaky, desperate voice.

I remembered fallin' asleep just as the sun started comin' up. The voice stirred me awake. I found myself lyin' on the ground, the sunlight bleedin' through my eyelids.

I sat up and dusted out my ridiculously long brown hair. When I searched for the voice, I saw a man with tattered clothes, shaggy gray hair, and a scraggly beard standin' at the far corner of the alley. I stood up and walked over to him.

He flinched away from me at first. "W-what do you want?"

"Hey, bud." I approached him slowly. "What's the problem?"

His body was shakin' all over. "I n-need a fix. I need some or I'm g-gonna die..."

His symptoms were obvious. The nervousness, shakin', stutterin' — seen it a million times. I searched through my pockets for a syringe of Med-X and handed it to the man.

"You're giving this to me?"

"Take it, brother. You need it."

Without hesitation, he grabbed the syringe out of my hand and jabbed it into the vein in his arm. His shakin' slowly subsided. I knew it was only temporary, but it was a small mercy. Too many people suffered in this town.

"Thank you so much..." The man relaxed against the wall. "I think I'm gonna stay here a while and... rest."

I nodded. "What's your name?"

"Frank."

"Frank. Well, Frank, you take care of yourself." I patted his shoulder and turned to walk away.

It was the first time I had left the alley in hours — half a day, even. I found a nice, secluded corner, unzipped my fly, and took a well-needed piss. Or, rather, I thought it was secluded.

"Hey, you," said a woman's voice.

Without stopping, I turned my head to see a red-headed lady lookin' at me with her arms crossed.

"What? Like what you see?" I asked with a smirk.

"Hardly," she scoffed. "Wanted to talk to you."

I put my personals away and zipped up my pants. "I'm low on caps and chems, sweetheart, so take your business elsewhere."

Her eyebrows pinched together in a look of frustration.

"I'm messin' with you, chill out. Didn't take you for a whore. You're not wearin' an old curtain for a dress."

Past my jokin', I really did mean that. She looked more like a merc. She wore leather arm guards and leg guards, and she had a pistol holstered on her leg and a machine gun on her back. One side of her head was completely shaved, and the other side was a shaggy jaw-length. She had the look of someone who just saw their grandpa naked or somethin' — her whole expression was placid and unamused, but it looked natural on her, almost permanent.

"What do you want?"

"That guy... You helped him. Why?"

I shoved my hands in my pockets. "What are ya, a stalker?"

"Just someone who's looking for work. Instead, I found a selfless man in a city of cowards."

"Heh. You don't know a thing about me, lady..."

I was far from selfless. Sure, I tried my best to help others when I could afford it, but I protected my own hide around Goodneighbor. I was just as much a coward as everyone else around here, hidin' when there was trouble.

"You got a cigarette?" she asked suddenly.

I fished through my back pocket for my cigarette pack and pulled one out. I handed it to her, and she quickly took it and placed it between her lips. She took a flip lighter out of her pocket and lit it.