Community:Fanfiction/Fallout: Nuka-World

Fallout: Nuka-World is a Fanfiction written by KitMaelstrom, taking place in 2310, in Nuka-World.

Chapter One
Damn. Its hard to recall all of it, all of the shit that I've been through. I've been shot, burned, bitten by wild animals, trampled by Power Armour, and, I believe in one case, been kicked by my own horse.

Yep. You heard that correctly. A horse. Those still exist. Or at least they do in Nuka-World. I'm not so sure about the rest of the world, but here, horses are as mundane as dirt. Great herds of wild broncos roam the plains, where the raiders and bandits once committed horrible acts. But now they're gone, and in their place, we have horses. Horses and a few other wild animals.

Yeah, for an abandoned theme park, we have a LOT of wild animals. I heard once that it was from a cloning machine gone wild, or... I'm fucking rambling, aren't I?

So, if you don't mind, I'd like to start over.

I live in Nuka-World, a place west of the Commonwealth. Member state of the UCG, home to around 23,000 people, and one of the richest places in the whole damn wasteland. A place of grand walls leading into subdivided parks, all of which are home to people, though some are more...Populous than others. A place of wonder, opportunity, and Nuka-Cola. A hell of a lot of it.

So, what exactly could you do here? Simply put: Anything. You could corral animals, you could find Nuka-Cola shipments and sell them to one of the numerous bars operating around the area, you could salvage tickets for the Nuka-Cade, cash in those tickets, and then sell the prizes that you were given for inflated prices, you could even set up a tourist trap where you hawked some pre-war magnet souvenirs. So, with everything that I have mentioned, all the things that you could do to make a living, I think that most people outside of the park would find interacting with a Nuka-Worlder quite strange, especially when they mentioned how FEW of those things were actually doable.

All of the Nuka-Cola shipments, at least those that people were aware of, had been tapped, their supply of cola feeding into one of the regional bars. All of the great Brahmiluff herds, the ones worth owning anyway, had been corralled, with their members ending up the property of cattle barons. The Nuka-Cade was still an option, but even if you spent your life in there, it still took a while, and a lot of caps, to win anything worth it. As for the magnets, they were cheap, easy to find in any area of the park... and almost everywhere sold them. Why would you stand out from the rest of the crowd, especially if you were just doing what everyone else was? So, yeah. All of the grand money-makers had been dried up, or the big businesspeople had a monopoly on them.

For the average person, you couldn't do much in the way of a living, or at least in the way of becoming an independent business owner. For the average person, the options were pretty much as follows:
 * 1) Work for a Nuka-Cola supplier in finding old shipments, refrigerating them, and shipping them off.
 * 2) Work for a Brahmiluff baron, and breed and feed cattle for them.
 * 3) Work for one of the local bars, shops or tourist traps. Hell, Cappy's Cafe is always hiring, right?
 * 4) Work for the weapons manufacturers and build rifles, extract Nuka-Cola Quantum to pour into bullets, and create new versions of those weapons that might, MIGHT be a success.
 * 5) Work for yourself, and spend your days out in the wastes, scouting every location that you can find, looking for some score, some big haul, something that all of the entrepreneurs of previous years missed.

By the time that my story begins, I was doing number five on that list. It wasn't big, it wasn't a supreme money maker, but at least I was working for myself. I didn't find much, but it was enough to make a living. Barely. Every once in a while I would find something a little expensive, something enough to keep me going for a couple of weeks, enough time for me to find something else. It was slow, and I had next to nothing in the way of savings, but hell, I was alive, right?

But inevitably, you can't find any new sources of income, right? So one day, I strode into Dry Rock, hoping to ask something of the local bartender. Hey, he may be a robot, but he's still a barkeep, right? Yeah, this is where my story really begins. So, without further ado, welcome to this recounting of the crazy events that followed.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention something crucially important. My name's Alex, but you can call me Al. It's nice to meet you.

Chapter Two
I had always liked the sound of crunching gravel. There was just something about it, something almost relaxing.The feeling wasn't bad either, especially while wearing boots. In that regard, I was lucky as I strode into Dry Rock Gulch. There were copious amounts of the stuff all over the place. I had no idea why, but I was grateful for at least this minor enjoyment.

That was probably, however, the only area in which I was actually benefited. Between the baking sun, the dust constantly blowing in my face, and the...Pungent odour of Brahmiluff, Dry Rock was overall not one of my favourite places. It was crowded, noisy, and blisteringly hot the majority of the time. But, as much as I disliked the area, I had to be here. I needed information, something which could help me raise myself out of the metaphorical hole that I had been stuck in for the past half-decade. And where better to get that information than a bar?

Cappy's Cafe was too crowded, too mainstream. They were still cleaning out Fizztop. And as far as I was aware, the novelty of watching a movie while a brightly coloured robot served you a poorly mixed drink meant that the Starlight had a near-constant line in front of it. So, that just left Ol' Doc Phosphate's.

Alright, maybe there were two things that I liked about Dry Rock Gulch. I tried to remember that as a Brahmiluff driver sent his herd barreling down the road, sending a spray of dust and cowshit in my face. Yikes. All the more reason to wash my mouth out with Nuka-Cola, eh?

Wait.

Where was the place that I could do that again?

Sighing, I began to glance around, taking in as much as possible of the town. Thanks to being the most populous area of the park, Dry Rock was always expanding, always adding new structures or modifying old ones. With all of the expansions that the place had undergone in the last 10 years alone, it was well on the way to becoming either a metropolis or a shantytown. Possibly both. Throw in the fact that I was rarely here for reasons that I have already mentioned, and it felt like I came back to a different settlement every time that I stopped by. Which, when one was desiring to find a specific location purely off of memory, was not a particularly helpful phenomenon.

With nothing else to do, I continued to survey Dry Rock, hoping to find Phosphate's. While you could easily tell the scrap metal, wood, and concrete buildings of the new inhabitants apart from the original architecture, these structures were crammed as close as possible together, obscuring or even obstructing the view of the older buildings. Hopefully, you can see why I struggled to locate the saloon for the amount of time that I did, before my eyes finally caught a glint of near-faded reflective lettering painted on an old wooden arch. Bingo.

Having found my destination, I resumed walking, hoping to get out of the baking heat that the sun before I developed heat stroke. I was already sweating beneath my duster, the tough fabric keeping the moisture close to my body in a highly uncomfortable way. But, the Doc's place was in sight, and I...

Damnit.

Why, just why, did they put two houses in front of there?!

''Well done, buddy. You couldn't have noticed that earlier?'', my brain chided me. And I wasn't wrong. I had been so absorbed in trying to find the bar off of its features alone that I failed to notice its immediate surroundings. Classic Al. Always so focused on one thing that I fail to notice the much larger picture. It has always been a flaw of mine, and not one that I like to talk about, but unfortunately, I had to live with it, as did the people around me. And now, I had to resolve that issue.

Carefully, slowly, I squeezed into the makeshift alleyway that the gap between the two domiciles had created. It was uncomfortably tight, but it was the only way to Phosphate's that I was immediately aware of. I would probably come out on the other end and there would be a conveniently placed passageway leading directly to the saloon that I had somehow just failed to notice, but as they say, what's done is done and cannot be undone. Hey, it's not like you can just revert to a previous point in your life after committing some kind of unsavoury act that you probably shouldn't have done. No, you had to live with the consequences of your mistakes. I tried to remember that as the alley tightened ever so slightly around me. Just a little longer to go.

After what seemed like an eternity, I exited the alleyway. I immediately gasped for air, the gap having been painfully tight at some times. While refilling my lungs, I took a look around and...yep! Whaddya know? There was a hidden side passage leading through the artificial mountain provided by the roller coaster that I had somehow missed. Ah well. It would be useful in the event of me coming back here. And right now, I didn't care about my lack of passive perception. I just really needed a fucking drink.

Despite Dry Rock Gulch being a constantly changing place, Doc Phosphate's was, in the very least, mostly identical to how I remembered it. While a few holes in the wall had been patched, and steel beams had replaced the wooden ones, the saloon was still the old, friendly looking place that I always visited after school nearby. Phosphate was something of an uncle figure to me, the old protectron having taken a particular liking to me. I never knew why, but it was probably to do with something in my appearance. I could have reminded him of the children that used to visit the park. With my old souvenir shirt and constant expression of joy at seeing him, I very well looked like one of Nuka-World's previous visitors. Yeah. It was probably that.

I swung open the double doors, taking in the surroundings that a large portion of my childhood had been spent in. Yep. It hadn't changed a bit. Still the old stools, still the bottles of Nuka-Cola and the mixing machine off to the right, and still the rusty Protectron in a hat standing behind the bar, absentmindedly wiping off a bottle (Absentmindedly? Do robots have what could be considered a mind, or just complicated programming?). Huh. I would probably have to ask someone about that.

Regardless of potential sapience, Phosphate noticed my arrival and reacted accordingly. "Al! How are you, pardner? It's been a darn-tooting while since you were here. Here, have a Nuka-Cola Wild! On the house!".

There was something about Phosphate, something in the way that he spoke, that had always made me feel... welcome. While his tinny, metallic voice was no different from any-other Protectron, there was just something that put me at ease. Maybe it was the way that he pronounced the word "Nuka-Cola". But still, I couldn't analyse every aspect of the robotic bartender. I was here with a job.

"Hey, Doc. Sorry that it took so long for me to get back here. It's been a rough few months for me.". I didn't explain what those "Rough Few Months" entailed. As far as the Doc was aware, I probably had fallen on some fiscally bad times. Which was not entirely untrue. But he didn't deserve to know just how rough it had been for me. He still had trouble comprehending that the world had ended. I popped the cap off of my Nuka-Cola Wild, pocketing it for later. Maybe I could save up enough to buy a brahmin steak or something.

"So, Doc, unfortunately this isn't a pleasure call.". I punctuated this announcement with a swig of my cola, taking in the cold, rooty flavour. Wild wasn't exactly my favourite flavour, but with where I often was, I couldn't be picky with what I derived my nourishment from. I swallowed the cola, and followed up my initial statement. "Do you know anything that a fella like me could do to keep myself...occupied?". I hoped that Phosphate had an answer. He hadn't exactly given helpful tips in the past, but in the past, that wasn't why I had visited him. I continued to drink my Wild as Phosphate processed the question.

After a few minutes, Phosphate perked up. "I know, pardner! You could explore Mad Mulligan's Mine! Just deliver these Sarsaparillas to--". I swiftly cut him off, raising my hand. Mad Mulligan's had been stripped of anything of value years prior. By the founder of the UCG himself, I believed.