Fallout: Origins

Chapter 1: Michael

 

“Hey, Mike!” Jack shouted. Michael was looking at his plasma rifle, making sure it was working properly, so it wouldn’t jam.

“Mike, get over here, man! Check this out!”

Michael got up off the supply crate he was sitting on, and walked over to Jack, who was hunched over a piece of metal.

“What the hell is that?” Michael asked Jack.

“I have no idea… It looks like junk, but it’s got an engraving on it.” Jack ran his fingers over the engraving of a sword in between three gears, surrounded by wings. It looked like a Holotag, but was made of steel and engraved with a knife. Under the markings, there were the initials: P.F.

“I’ve seen that symbol before… Somewhere in California, I think.” Michael was trying to think where he’d seen it. But no matter how hard he thought, he could not put his finger on it.

“Hey, Sarge,” Private Smith said as he hunched over between them, inches away from their shoulders, “what’s up with that Robobrain over there?”

“Never mind, Private.” Michael ordered. “We’ll investigate here. Go and tell the others that we’re going back to base.”

“Yes, Sir.” Smith turned on his heels and walked towards the others at a quickened pace.

Jack was inspecting the Robobrain next. It was toppled over about an hour or two ago, and there was a laser burn on the chassis. There was also a tiny blood splatter on the floor a few feet away.

“Let’s just get going, alright, Jack?” Michael said in a tired tone. The squad hadn’t slept in over 3 days. Whenever they’d complete a mission, they’d get radioed another one.

“Okay, Mike.” They both rose to their feet, grabbing their rifles.

“Y’know what I hate about this armor… It’s so damn bulky, I can barely move.” Michael complained.

“Yeah, no argument there. But hey, at least if we get in a firefight, then maybe you can take a couple extra bullets than our resident scientists.” The two chuckled for a moment, and then kept on moving outside their outpost to a Vertibird. The Enclave had the outpost set up and secured in a few hours. By the time the squad had left, the sun was already setting.

Climbing in, the pilots greeted them, and took off. Michael and Jack took off their helmets and placed them on the seats next to them. The other soldiers looked at them.

“At ease, guys. Just cuz we look like scary robots doesn’t mean that we don’t have faces.” They all shared a laugh. Corporal Riker was sitting in the corner, helmet on, staring out the window.

“Hey, Riker,” Jack called out, “everything alright over there?”

Riker turned his head slightly. “Yes, Sir.” Then turned back to the window.

“Ah, nevermind him, Sarge.” Smith said jokingly, “He’s just a little moody, that’s all.”

“The silent type can be the most dangerous.” Michael said sternly. “However, communication is key when we’re on the battlefield. Remember, men, we’re a unit. Not a bunch of lone wolves or buddies. You guys can have your fun when we get back to base.” He turned his head to the cockpit. “Hey, pilot, what’s our ETA?”

“About 15 minutes out, sir.”

“Alright. So relax a little guys, but don’t go bugging Riker for not talking much.”

Though he was by far the toughest in the squad, Riker was picked on by most. He had a soft spot for the gentle things. He’d usually admire any flowers or living trees he would see on patrols, and it even costed the life of one of their squadmates, as Riker was on guard duty at the time. During a fight with a Raider, his helmet got knocked off, and the junkie slashed his eye. The rest of the squad thought that it happened when he was looking at a tree. They decided to call it “Revenge of the Bushes”.

“Sir, we’re detecting movement up ahead.” The pilot told Michael.

“What kind of movement?”

“Not sure, sir. Looks like human, but they’re wearing power armor. And it’s not ours.”

“You heard ‘em, men. Helmets on, check your weapons, prepare to land. We need to make sure they aren’t hostile.”

A few moments after they checked their equipment, there was a loud whirring noise.

“What the hell is that?” One of the men asked.

“Sergeant! Laser point on our bird, they’re locked on! I can’t evade!”

“Brace yourselves men,” Michael said, putting his helmet on, “We’re gonna have a pretty rough landing.”