SPOILERS FOR VOL. I-III AND THE TV SHOW FOLLOW
Tales From Vault X: Part 1 - Rosie Vs. The Ghoul.
Rosie had been on the go for days, ever since she left John, chasing one horizon after the next. She would fly by night, picking out lights that meant life. Before sun up she would land, then explore. Rosie saw things her sheltered upbringing couldn’t have prepared her for.
Sand that stretched for miles. Mountains that disappeared into the clouds before she saw the peaks. A great wall holding back a massive lake. Janey had told her all about it. The historical data uploaded to her memory drives by Brandon. The pain of his loss hurt more than her shoulder.
The battle for Shadowtown had left her shoulder bruised and weakened. Days of exploring and sleeping on the ground hadn’t helped. She decided to try and find a real bed for the night. A tiny glow in the distance seemed to be the only light around.
The Velo touched down in a forest of green. The trees clinging to a slope behind rows of derelict houses. Rosie exited with her integrally suppressed carbine levelled, bracing for the relatively minor recoil. Janey’s head rotated all the way round. Fen sat, panting. Rosie used her mark two eyeballs to scan the forest. Nothing moved.
“Come here boy.” She grabbed Fen’s ball and went to throw it. Rosie winced and dropped the ball, Fen whimpered. The light in Janey’s face began to blink.
“I believe I can recalibrate my therapeutic massage proto—”
“No.” Rosie didn’t want another massage from triple pronged claws. “No, thank you Janey.” Rosie got Janey’s trench coat and hat, helping her into it. It didn’t look unlike a person, from a distance. Rosie handed Janey the ball. She whirred her arm around and launched it. Fen chased after it, glad to be outside.
“Have you considered your pain may be psychosomatic?” The light in the centre of Janey’s face began to blink rapidly. “It has been a difficult series of cycles.”
“I know.” Rosie winced as she pulled on her duster. “I’m going to see about those lights. Can you watch Fen, if it seems friendly I’ll come get you.” Rosie didn’t like the idea of them being out here alone.
“A superior tactical option would be for me to remain covert.” Janey made a smart call. “I can guarantee accuracy up to seven hundred metres.” Rosie loaded the antique sniper rifle, knowing if Janey needed it, the seconds saved would count.
Rosie took a moment and used her optical connection to Janey like a mirror. She made sure the advanced Shadow suit she wore couldn’t be seen. The sleeves and gloves retracted. The hood and mask under the collar. Her borrowed check shirt tucked into her jeans.
She set off, carbine slung, hand resting on her sidearm as she descended. A few miles of houses brought her to a road. The twisted and cracked blacktop got her to the lights. Rosie took a sweep around the outskirts of the town, picking out spots for Janey.
As she approached, Rosie saw the town only occupied about three of the old world buildings. A trading post inside an old Super Duper Mart, customers served at a hole in the wall. A courier’s office ran out of a bank. And on the corner, a bar.
Rosie strolled down the centre of the quiet and dusty street. She pushed through the flapping double doors, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous design. Music she’d never heard played on a tinny radio. Stools lined the wooden bar backed by empty bottles.
Her eyes fell to where she wanted to sit. One of the booths against the wall, near the back exit and good cover. Someone had beat her to it. Dark hat pulled low, whiskey bottle and glass on the table.
“Double vodka, on the rocks.” Rosie ordered a drink, the barkeep looked at her strangely then left. He returned a moment later with two rocks from the street in a glass, poured vodka over them, and put it on the bar. Rosie held up the glass, raising an eyebrow. She heard a laugh from the booth.
“Well, the quality of bartenders has declined somewhat of late.” He rasped. Rosie picked him out as a ghoul, then she saw his eyes. She wondered if they really did look more human than she expected, or that the loss of her friend made it seem that way.
“Cheers.” She turned and raised the glass, seeing the old world gesture returned. She threw back the terrible vodka, wishing Brandon could see her. There was a time Rosie would have already shot any ghoul. “Another, neat. That means just the vod—” Pain flared up her arm, a combat knife stabbed through the back of her left hand. The Ghoul in her face.
“I know where you’re from Vaulty.” He sneered. Rosie threw a headbutt, ripping the knife from her own hand and turning with it ready. “Careful there, Red.” He had a custom, cut-down shotgun in her ribs.
“This isn’t going to go the way you think it is.”
“You gimmie that damn thing on your arm and I’ll let you be.” He didn’t flinch. Rosie saw a fighter. The Ghoul saw a vault dweller, and that would be his undoing. Rosie decided not to kill him. She knew the pre-war tech lured those who understood its power.
“Hey.” The useless bartender racked a shotgun. “Take it outside.”
“After you.” Rosie didn’t move.
“Ladies first, I insist.” The Ghoul kept his weapon raised, slowly backing up towards the door. Rosie pushed through the flapping doors and out into the street.
“I hate to break it to you, Red.” The Ghoul took his stance. “This ain’t my first showdown at high noon.”
“It’s nine thirty in the morning, but ok.” Rosie stretched her arms, watching and bracing for the pain.
The handful of people cleared the street, doors slamming and bringing only the sound of birds. Rosie saw the merest dip of a shoulder from her opponent, and tore into the dreamlike state. Her first step sent pain into her shoulder. She shut it out.
Rosie ripped the cut-down shotgun from his grasp, letting time snap back as she stood ten feet behind The Ghoul.
“What in the hell?!” He followed the streak of dust picked up her wake.
“Nice piece.” Rosie aimed his own weapon at him, stopping him cold. She didn’t see the fear she’d hoped for, he looked disgusted. She eased the hammer down and began to admire the custom firearm. “I like the…” Rosie trailed off, unsure of the word for the engravings on the gun.
“I believe the word you’re searching for is filagree.” He stalled for time, eyes flitting around.
“Filagree.” Rosie thought it sounded better in his accent. She stripped the weapon, tossing the pieces into the coarse sand. “Are these custom hand loads?” She couldn’t help but admire the ammunition. “Armour piercing, explosive,” She chucked the shells away. “Is that a marble?”
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“Comes in handy more often than you might think.” He drew the lever action rifle from his back. Rosie zipped by him again, taking the rifle. She felt her carbine slip away, the strap cut as she passed. A tiny hooked blade glinting in his scarred hand.
“Lever action, kind of slow.” Rosie flicked the gun round, chambering a round. She took aim at his head, then at his knee. She pulled the trigger and the gun exploded in her hand, leaving her momentarily dazed. She span back and drew her pistol, not seeing the dark figure. Then she heard him laugh and slowly clap.
“Fell for the oldest trick in the book!” Rosie advanced. “What is it, your first day in the sunshine?”
“Fuck you.” Rosie turned into an alley and saw no one. Small plinks sounded before a pop, filling the alley with smoke. Rosie darted clear, full auto gunfire chasing her. She threw herself into cover on the other side of the street. Rosie took a deep breath, and pulled up her hood.
With her gear stashed, she cloaked in the stealth field and stepped out to see The Ghoul advancing tactically, her carbine levelled, like she’d been taught to do. Rosie let him pass and got behind him, ready to put her pistol to his head.
“Girl, I seen that trick before.” He turned sharply, his ragged duster flaring, and kicked up sand. It hit the stealth field and shattered it. Rosie lunged forward, wrenching the carbine up as he fired. A knee to the gut and a double handed blow to his back knocked him down.
Rosie zipped to the cover of a crumbling wall, the pain in her shoulder bringing red warnings to her vision. “You might have noticed you’re still alive, sort of.” Rosie threw in a dig. “That’s because I haven’t killed you...yet.”
“Those little tricks take it out of you, don’t they.” He heard the panting in her voice. “I can do this shit for days. I have. Give up that thing on your arm Vaulty, and I’ll make it quick.”
“I don’t suppose it matters to you that I can’t take it off?” Rosie played for time.
“Don’t matter to me none Red. I’ll slice it off that pretty little arm if I have to.” He drew nearer.
“Yeah, I thought you might say that.” Rosie took off her belt, using it to strap her left arm tight to reduce the moment in her shoulder. She stood into the dreamlike state. Rosie swept her right arm across, letting the throwing knives slip from her hand and hang in the air.
She span from the bullets, the momentum of each dodge carried into a throw. The blades stuck into radiation ravaged flesh, two in the arm and two in the leg. Rosie slipped behind him and let time snap back.
“Take more than that Red!” He plucked the knives out. Rosie padded silently behind him, like his own shadow had turned on him. He froze, Rosie lashed out with a kick, he stayed standing.
Rosie went on the attack with her right arm. Her punches deflected, her kicks blocked. She saw echoes of her own training, and struggled to block the counter attacks with one arm. For every kick she landed, two were blocked. For every punch she connected with, one came back took effort to dodge.
Rosie blocked both crosses, her kick gave her an opening. She plucked a shell from the bandolier. “Stop.” She held it up.
“Easy there Red.” He backed up. “That’s a mighty small package that packs a real punch.”
“I’m betting I can outrun it. You?” Rosie grinned.
“Oh I’m betting I can take it.” The Ghoul started advancing, forcing her back. “The end of the God damn world didn’t kill me! Take your shot, take it!” He slapped the shell away, clamping his grip on her shoulder. She fell to her knee, then the pain stopped.
Rosie drew the black dagger from her wrist and went on the attack. She stabbed and twisted, leaving the knife in his forearm. Rapid punches knocked him away. She took back her dagger, the wound oozing. She drove her thumb into it, gripping his arm and twisting. He yelped as Rosie slammed him down, a kick to the back of his head bought her time.
Rosie zipped back to the street where the fight started. She pulled down her hood and couldn’t resist picking up the black hat.
“Now that’s just plain disrespectful.” The Ghoul swaggered back into the street.
“You stabbed me in the hand for no reason.” She fired back.
“I got my reasons, Vaulty. Take off the fucking pipboy and walk away. Don’t no one need to die here.” He glared at her, unflinching.
“I was thinking the same thing.” Rosie zipped from his sight, letting the hat float down. “At least I was.” She taunted him from the alley, their roles reversed.
“Real cute Red.” He sauntered over, picking up his hat. Then he saw the figure advancing. “No...I can’t be him.” She stepped out, his attention drawn by the hat and trench coat. Rosie snapped her fingers.
A burst of red from Janey’s cranial laser ignited the hat and trench coat. The bolt of energy fizzed by them as the faux feminine form emerged from the burning cloth. The Ghoul turned, running right at her. The fear she loved to see in his face. Rosie threw a punch, only for The Ghoul to take her arm and pull her into cover.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He looked frightened, and not of her. “I need you to flank, draw its fire. I’ll hit that bitch with this.” He produced a stick of dynamite from his boot.
“Why would I do that?” Rosie edged back and stood.
“Get down! Don’t you know what that is?!” He looked very human in that moment. Rosie knew she’d made the right call.
“That’s my friend Janey.” Rosie had Janey walk up on him, watching him scramble back.
“Call it off you crazy bitch! It ain’t no pet! Call it off!” He screamed. Rosie raised her hand. Janey stopped walking. She whistled for Fenris, to underline her point. Fen undercut it by approaching the terrified man like a friend.
“Seriously? What did we talk about?” She patted her thigh and started walking away.
“Hey Vaulty.” He called out, Rosie kept walking. “You tell those Vault-Tec bastards I’m coming. You tell them Cooper Howard is coming. Tell them I’m coming for my family!” He shouted threats that didn’t cover the pain in his voice. Rosie stopped walking.
“You’re looking for your family?” She turned back, seeing him slumped against a wall. “I had to leave my family behind.”
“Why in the hell you do that?!” He glared at her with anger in his human eyes. Rosie got the sense they both knew it was misplaced. “Don’t nothing matter in this world ‘cept family.”
“I grew up in a Vault. They told us the surface was gone. The moment I escaped I knew I could never go back.” Rosie saw a glimmer of understanding. “I’ll see them again, in a few years.”
“Baby girl, don’t you know,” The Ghoul looked in the eyes, Rosie saw the pain there. “A few years is a real long time in the Wasteland.” He didn’t threaten her, he warned her.
“Yeah, I know.” She sat next to him, thrusting out her left arm. “I’d rather not have an immortal psychopath looking for me.” She sighed. “Although I did just beat you with one arm tied behind my back.”
“You really don’t know what that is, do you?” He couldn’t even look at Janey, staring at her like she said the world was flat.
“My designation is Janey, I’m a real bitch.” She answered in her robotic voice.
“Child, that right there’s the Devil, made real and turned loose on the world as punishment for our sin.” He sounded utterly convinced. Rosie tried not to be disrespectful.
The Ghoul poked around through the pipboy for a few minutes, horror and disgust on his face. “Those monsters really did a number on you.” He looked at her with pity, and fear for someone else in his eyes.
“I don’t see it that way.” Rosie pulled on her boots, slipping into her duster.
“This isn’t who you were supposed to be.” He almost whispered, a haunted tone in the rasp.
“Speak for yourself. That fucking overseer didn’t get to tell me who I am. No one does. I’ve dropped from a bird at twelve thousand feet. I’ve walked into a den of raiders and killed their leader. I’ve faced down a Deathclaw Matriarch in her nest. I’ve cut down mutants with flick of my wrist and taken out former special forces operators like that.” Rosie snapped her fingers. “I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be.” She walked away, hoping for a better reception at the next town over.
“Go on home baby girl.” The Ghoul called out after her. “For all our sakes.”