Duncan woke up, face down in his hand sewn pillow, in the far corner of his wood cabin. A bottle of cheap vodka next to him. "Ugh.." Duncan groaned to himself, chucking the bottle across the room, watching it shatter as he rubbed his eyes groggily. He groaned as he pulled himself off of his mattress, stumbling to the window to look into the tall, overgrown grass outside. Duncan sighed, turning to grab his coat and step outside. The air was cold, it was around six in the morning. He stayed on his porch for a moment, before taking a slow walk around his house, making sure his fortifications were up to code. His windows were still sealed, and the fences were up. This brought a smile to his face like it always did, now he had to check on his crops and water them. These were all parts of his daily routine, and Duncan never thought them as tedious. Of course, his crops were in order and the wood fence around the large plot was still intact. He stretched before heading back inside, pulling on his hiking boots and tying them. "Have to head into Diamond City soon and sell some of this garbage.." Duncan said to himself, before grabbing his rifle and throwing it over his shoulder after securing the strap. As he was about to walk about, he looked at himself in his bedside mirror. "Oh jeez.." He whispered, running a hand over his face. His eyes were baggy and tired, his black hair matted. "I'll fix myself up later.." He said, before pushing open his door and stepping back outside.
YOU ARE READING
Misunderstood
AdventureThis story follows Duncan Jones, a twenty year old living in the wastes of Boston, MA. I was heavily inspired by Fallout 4, and many other Fallout Spin-Offs, on this site. Duncan Jones didn't have anyone to call "friend", until Jules, an ex-raider l...