Fallout: Dry Wells

Dry Wells

My Geiger counter had begun to crackle wildly. The dull, green glow surrounding the radioactive inlet was starting to blur my vision and my stomach had begun to churn. I ducked down as another hail storm of bullets whizzed past my head. If I didn't move soon, the legion soldiers would either kill me or leave to the mercy of the Monster of the East himself. I could hear them moving positions, trying to flank me. My skin had begun to crawl and burn, feeling like ants running over my body. A small explosion threw radioactive rock and dirt all over me as a grenade was tossed at me. "Come out and fight, profligate!" "The Wrath of Caesar has marked you for death!" The legionaries taunted me. I couldn't stay much longer. A feeling of nausea had begun to creep up on me as my radiation level climbed dangerously high. I closed my eyes and rightly gripped my Winchester Model 34 and stood up from behind the chunk of twisted metal and concrete that I had used as cover. Instead of a group of ghoulified legionnaires, was a lone figure. Tall and hulking, clad in an elaborate armor reminiscent of that of Lanius's. In his hand was a long piece of twisted metal and he wore a helmet sporting the likeness of Mars, a red scar like mark across the face. The Centurion began walking towards me. The giant was on me in a matter of seconds. Before I could raise my rifle, an intense pain shot through my jaw as the warrior backhanded me. I laid there, trying to regain my vision. I looked around for a weapon before I ended up with a Bumper Sword in my back. About a yard away, lay an Anti-Material rifle. Mustering my strength, I crawled towards it, hearing the whistle of the sword barely missing me. I scrambled toward the gun, clumsily picking it up. My arms were like bricks, not wanting to hold the powerful sniper rifle. Taking a gamble, I loaded the gun, gathered the last of strength, and spun around, the glint of metal blinding me. I fired. The high powered bullet slammed into the Centurion like a locomotive, crushing armor and bone. He was launched into the air, landing in a heap of dead weight. I breathed a sigh of relief. I stood, shakily, and limped over to the body. A massive hunk of flesh had been blown out of his side. I could see his heart, or what was left of it. I leaned down and took off his helmet. Gaius Magnus, Conquerer of the 87th Tribe was dead, and Dry Wells was free.