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 Posted: Sat May 23, 2009 8:45 pm
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 6:35 pm
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Okay, the tabbing/spacing isn't working, so I'll just double-space between paragraphs. Anyway, here's the first part of my story.
They Call Me Abe: The Story of a Ghoul
By Haratio TaFotter
When Abe woke up, it was dark. Not the kind of dark most of us are used to though, oh no. This was Wasteland dark. There were lights were he was, but they did nothing to illuminate the world around him.
Abe was lying on his side, and the first thing that met his eyes was the bright light of a lamp, illuminated by what looked to be an old car battery. Abe wasn’t accustomed to such sights, for he was a man from the time of the war, when everything was bright and shining, a hopeful luster illuminating his D.C. home. Too bad he wasn’t in that time anymore, and he wasn’t a man anymore either.
“Christ, my head!” he moaned as he began to slowly sit up. “God, I have such a headache!”
It was a few later that he noticed something, something odd. When he had spoken, he didn’t hear his voice. The voice he hear coming out of his mouth was old and raspy, like that of an old man.
The next thing he noticed as his eyes became more accustomed to the light was that he was in a tunnel, a metro tunnel to be more specific. But the tunnel was in disarray, with trash all over the floor, and once of the escalators to the upper balcony was smashed.
If not for his predicament, the words out of Abe’s mouth could be seen as pretty ironic, even comical. “Damn, it looks like someone dropped a bomb in here!”
Finally, he noticed his arms. They were grotesque! He could see his muscles, and his skin was a green color, like it was rotting away as he moved. Now things were really starting to hit home for him; something was wrong, with him, with everything!
Abe turned back to where he had been lying to see a small area, like a little homestead in the rubble. There was an old mattress where he had been sleeping, and a desk and chair sitting next to an old tool cabinet. On the desk was a small pile of books and magazines and a mirror. He slowly walked towards the desk afraid of what the mirror might show him.
“It can’t be any worse than anything I’ve already seen, right?” he mumbled in the unfamiliar voice. He picked it up and looked into the dusty reflection. Abe’s skin was green, and his eyes were a misty white. All hair was gone from his head, and a sizable chunk of skin was gone from the right side of his face, revealing a pair of grim, yellow fangs. He threw the mirror away; Abe had been wrong.
Abe sat down in the chair and put his hands on either side of his head. “What happened?” he mumbled to himself. “Who am I, what am I? What happened here?”
Abe opened his eyes and looked down on the desk. There sat a small notebook, separate from the other in the stack. He took it, and opened it. Thoughts slowly came back to him, and he read the journal:
“The year is 2277. The other scientists and I decided to begin our research today on the local ghoul population. I packed some of the chemical tranquilizers, and brought along a pair of mercenaries who were scrounging the ruins. As we went into the first of the metro tunnels, we caught this hideous smell, and one of the mercs smiled. He said the smell was of rotting flesh, and that it meant that there were definitely ghouls in the tunnel. We were overjoyed.
“As we went further, we saw one of them, tall and muscular for a ghoul. I could think of no better test subject for the coming experiment. The ghoul saw us, and let out one of those terrible screeches! No matter how many times I hear that sound, it always wakes me from my sleep, late at night; then was no different.
“As the ghoul charged, the merc with the darts fired, hitting the ghoul high in the chest. The specimen paused, and then kept running. Another dart hit him, and the second merc raised his gun and fired. The second dart put him down, but if I hadn’t hit the other’s arm, he could have blown the ghoul’s head off! His face received a minor injury (for a ghoul at least) and we were able to take him in.
“We have had the ghoul sedated for about twenty-four hours now. We set up our things in an empty metro platform, and secured the ghoul. As we brought in all of our tools, we noticed several pre-war relics that test subject had been guarding. Among the articles, there was an old fedora, a Pip-Boy, a pair of motorcyclist’s goggles, a baseball bat, a baseball magazine, and a gentlemen’s magazine. Weatherby suggested he was obviously male, probably an athlete. This would explain his physique.
“The ghoul seems fairly sedated, though still obviously in a feral state. He has made hardly a sound up to this point, but he tried biting Johnson when he got too close to the subject’s mouth.
“We are still trying to amass the proper materials for the experiments. One of the mercs mentioned a trader who comes through the area once or twice a week; hopefully he will have what we need.
“The subject has been in our possession for a week now, and little has changed in his attitude. Johnson, once again in his foolishness, almost lost two fingers to the ghoul while trying to feed him. Weatherby and I agree he might be one of the most foolish scientists we’ve ever met.
“The trader our mercenary mentioned finally showed and up and carried what we needed: Rad-Away, that old chemical formula made to rid the body of radiation poisoning. Our theory is as follows: if humans become ghouls due to prolonged exposure to radiation, then an agent made for ridding the body of such radiation, an agent like Rad-Away, should cause ghouls in a feral state to regain normal consciousness.
“We were able to buy ten packs of Rad-Away, but more is needed. This is not our first test involving the de-feralizing of ghouls. Our previous experiments have showed us little; ten have no effect other than severe agitation of the subject, while injecting more than fifty in one sitting causes the subject’s heart to stop or worse. We wish to inject more, seventy-five, using five a day for two days, and then taking a day break
“We now have forty packs of Rad-Away, so more are still needed. Hopefully we can get them without much trouble.”
Abe understood very little of what he was reading. Rad-Away? De-feralizing? What did it all mean? It slowly hit him; this journal was about him.
While it was generally confusing, he wished to continue:
It has been four weeks. We now have fifty-five packs. We would have up to sixty by now, but we had to spend some of our money on food. At least there is a bathroom on the platform with running water.
"Yesterday, Johnson went outside to take a smoke break, and came back fifteen minutes later covered in blood. He had been shot by a raider, but had managed to kill the assailant first by using his own 10 mm pistol. It was a move of self-defense, but raiders rarely travel alone. We’ll have to be careful in the weeks to come.
"Five weeks. We have sixty packs, but we had to get a stimpack for Johnson, who has been in sore condition since his fight with the raider. Next week we think we might have to sell Weatherby’s toolbox for more Rad-Away. We debated selling the ghoul’s “possessions”, but if this experiment works, that would feel like stealing.
"In this down time we’ve all had, we decided to come up with a name for our test subject. Johnson made a good suggestion, wanting to call the ghoul Abraham since he bore a resemblance to Abraham Albruns, a famous pre-war baseball player. It seemed fitting to Weatherby and I, as we found him in a metro tunnel near the Lincoln Memorial.
"Abe has become a little restless. He shifts on the bed we have him chained to, and sometimes lets out a gasp as he looks around at us. It’s very unsettling.
"Six weeks. It has been a sad week. Three raiders came into the metro and attacked us. Johnson killed two with his pistol, and Weatherby killed the third with the baseball bat. Johnson received more injuries on top of the ones he already had, those these were more severe. He died halfway through the week from blood loss.
"Weatherby went outside for some fresh air and found the trader, who had been killed. It was another moment of sadness, but we managed to get the rest of the Rad-Away we needed, and his Brahmin will provide us with food for some time now. The weapons and ammo will also afford us extra protection. Rest in peace, Johnson.
"Ten weeks. I have not written in the journal in awhile. This whole study has been very…interesting. We started injecting Abraham with the Rad-Away at week seven, and so far the data has matched up with our previous experiments. The first week or so was the worst. Every time we injected some of the Rad-Away, about three full syringes per pack, he would let out the shriek like when he first saw us. This time, it was much louder.
"We have had no further trouble with raiders, though occasionally we hear fighting in the Mall. From the sounds of rapid fire and explosions, we can assess that it’s the mutants fighting the Brotherhood. Sometimes Weatherby stays up late at night to guard the metro entrance, just to make sure the mutants don’t creep and kill us in our sleep.
"Abraham, if you’re reading this and the de-feralization has worked, then maybe I will sleep easier. Weatherby has noticed that the fighting between the mutants and the Brotherhood soldiers keeps getting closer and closer to the metro tunnel. He says if we don’t leave now, then we’ll get caught up in the combat at some point.
"We injected all the Rad-Away into your body, and you stopped thrashing. You were calm and quiet for such a long time that we thought you had died. But you still have a pulse, and you’re still breathing.
"Weatherby and I are leaving now. We hear that Rivet City is still as safe as ever, so that’s probably where we’ll go, assuming we don’t get killed somewhere along the way. I wish I could have seen whether the experiments worked or not, but we can’t wait any longer. Your things are in the tool cabinet, as well as two stimpacks and some beer."
Elsa Pallino
Derrick Weatherby
Walther Johnson
Abe slowly closed the journal and put it aside. So that was it? He had been some kind of monster, and there were even more monsters outside?
The ghoul stood up and walked over to the tool cabinet and opened the pair of wooden doors. There was the wooden bat, a brown glass bottle, a pair of syringe-like instruments, his magazines and a device that looked like a large watch that said “Pip-Boy” on it. There was nothing he really recognized about them, but at the same time they all looked so familiar.
Abraham examined his surroundings once more, and saw some sunlight creeping down a small ramp. He would wait, and then he would leave the dark world he didn’t know for the wide unfamiliarity of the world outside. This world was the Capital Wasteland, and it was a land of war. And war…..well, I think you know the rest.
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Posted: Fri May 29, 2009 5:22 pm
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Well, here's part two. If anyone is reading these, feel free to comment.
Abraham stood at the bottom of the concrete ramp, looking up at the chain link gate that led to the outside. There was no sound from outside that he could hear, with a cool breeze whipping through the door. He had some of his things in a bag slung across his back, with the Pip-Boy on his wrist, the bat in his hands, the goggles over his eyes, and the fedora up on his head.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he mumbled to himself as he took a deep breath. “You’re a big, strong guy…ghoul whatever.”
Placing his weathered hand on the chain link gate, he slowly pushed the door open. Abe stood for a moment, looking up at the gate to the Capital Wasteland. He put his right foot forward, and then followed with his left. In years to come, Abe would say that those were the hardest two steps he ever made in his life, or at least they were the hardest that he could remember. Abe would always get a good laugh out of that one, even though he felt like doing almost anything but laughing at the time.
Once he was out in the open, he saw the Mall, in all it glory (and lack thereof). The sky above was overcast, which made the twisted steel, shattered concrete, and broken glass look almost somber, like some kind of funeral in terrible disarray. He looked to his left and saw the Lincoln Memorial, and far off to his right the Reflecting Pool and the Washington Monument. These, once again, struck a cord on his near blank memory, but it was almost like he was seeing them new.
Then he heard a scream, loud and high-pitched. Across the Reflecting Pool, outside another metro tunnel across the way, he saw a man standing over a woman and her young child. Abe stalked closer, keeping low to the ground as he watched. The man wore some kind of makeshift armor, dark black with a white claw-like insignia at the center its breastplate.
“I told you, I don’t have any caps!” the woman cried as she put her arms around the crying child. “Please leave me alone!”
“I’m only going to ask you one more time!” the man yelled as he turned back around, brandishing a combat shotgun, a weapon Abe also managed to remember. “Give me all your damn caps!”
“I don’t have any!”
Abe watched what happened next slowly, even though it all happened over the course of a couple seconds. The man in the armor pulled the trigger twice, sending a pair of the empty shotgun shells flying out of the side of the gun. The woman moved to cover her child, taking both shots, one to her left side, and one to her back. The man laughed. The child cried. Abe moved.
As most know, feral ghouls are known for their speed when attacking prey. Abe was no exception, letting out a roar that would have made even a hardened Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel shudder. He brought back the bat as the man in the armor turned around, though he reacted too slowly. There was a resounding crunch as the wooden bat collided with the unprotected skull. The man was hit so hard that he was dead before he hit the ground.
Abe stood back, the bloody bat in hand, as he examined the armor, now red with the blood of the man. He was so astounded by his own strength that he couldn’t believe what he himself had just done. The blood excited him, bringing back visions of the dark tunnel and blood, so much blood. What had happened down there?
He was suddenly snapped from his thoughts by the crying child, who was desperately shaking his mother. “Mommy, wake up! Please wake up, mommy! The mean man is gone!”
“Kid, I don’t think your mom is okay,” Abe said as soothingly as he could manage with his ragged voice, reaching a hand out to the child. The boy looked up, let out a shriek of terror, and ran down the stairs into the metro tunnel behind him.
Abe didn’t know the real nature of the metro tunnels. The one he had been revived in had been cleared out, while the one the boy ran into was all but clear. The metro tunnels of D.C. were winding deathtraps, full of feral ghouls and raiders who would kill you and leave you for the radroaches. The Wasteland was a killer as indiscriminate as time itself; it took the young and old, the strong and the weak. The boy ran onto an empty metro platform and huddled down to cry. As he wept, he didn’t notice the cries of the ghouls, who were zeroing in on the sounds. The boy became another casualty of the Wasteland, and nobody cared.
Abe was taken aback by the boy’s reaction. So that was it, he was a monster? As the sun went down and the concrete ground around him got cold, Abe sat down by the corpse of the dead man. Perhaps he would have been better off if he had died during that experiment, deep within the metro tunnel? He shut his eyes and went to sleep; only time would answer his question, and as a ghoul, he would have plenty of time to wait for his answer.
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Posted: Mon Jun 01, 2009 6:53 am
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Posted: Tue Jun 02, 2009 9:16 pm
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Posted: Fri Jun 05, 2009 2:03 pm
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XxCrimson_ShinobixX Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2009 11:55 am
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2009 4:08 pm
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2009 5:14 pm
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“I think ghoul is dead,” Abe heard a husky Russian voice mumble. When he opened his eyes and looked out through his goggles, there was a fat man with a short red beard, looking at him from behind a pair of sunglasses. The man was wearing a green combat helmet and a suit of armor to match.
“I thought all ghouls were dead to begin with,” a higher, grainy voice said in the background.
“Don’t be stupid, Rory,” a girl not much older than twenty laughed. “Ghouls are people if you ignore the radiation.”
Abe opened his eyes fully, and saw the ragtag group in its entirety. All were in different suits of armor, some lighter or heavier than others, and all carried different guns.
“Oh look, Mister Ghouls wakes up from nap!” the Russian chuckled as he leaned in closer to Abe’s face, so close that Abe could smell the stink of beer on his breath. “Morning, Mister Ghoul! Sleep well?”
“Fine enough, I guess,” said Abe as he slowly got up, leaning on his bat for support.
“And look, it speaks too!” the Russian continued as he looked back to his friends.
“Excuse me!” Abe yelled, catching the attention of the whole group. “I am a human, you heard the girl. I don’t take kindly to being called an ‘it’ by people I just met, you sack of…”
The Russian reached down to his belt and drew a large Bowie knife with a brass guard that covered his hand. “You want a fight, ghoul? I can give you a lovely little cut on your rotting face!”
Abe took the bat in both hands, brandishing it like some kind of sword. “I’d like nothing more!”
“Enough!” a deep bellowing voice boomed, shaking the entire group. All turned to face a man with a long grey beard and a red bandana on his bald head. He wore a grey and green suit of metal armor, and brandished a large, multi-barreled minigun. “Greg, what did I say about starting fights?”
“I didn’t start fight, it was ghoul!” the Russian said in his own defense, pointing his knife at Abe.
“Anna, who started the fight?” the old man asked as he turned to the girl.
“Gregori did.”
The old man nodded, and the Russian stowed his knife. The old man, who was obviously their leader, walked over to get a good look at Abe.
“You picked one Hell of a ghoul to pick a fight with,” the old man said as he gave Abe the once-over. “Damn, he’s as big as Charon back in Underworld…maybe even bigger! What’s your name, son?”
“Call me Abe,” the ghoul said as he looked at the weathered old man.
“Well, Abe, my name is Ahab, and more introductions are in order,” the old man said as he looked past the ghoul, and then back behind himself, “but not here, and not now. Rory, give me an update.”
A young man stepped forward, wearing a suit of leather armor, a black stocking cap, and carrying an assault rifle. “Yeah, according to Potter, we have some mutant activity by the exit point, and he can’t do anything to clear the area until we get there. He also said the Hawks entered the ruins, snuck right past the mutants through one of the metro tunnels. No news on any Brotherhood activity.”
“Good,” said Ahab, “then maybe it’ll be more or less clear except for those mutants. Abe, you’re going to need some armor.” Ahab turned around and looked at the man who Abe had killed. “A Talon merc, probably got split up from his group. I bet his suit will fit you, and it’s not like he’s going to need it anymore.”
Abe looked with a bit of disgust at the man. His black armor bore its previous owner’s blood, which could be seen even over the black plates. He didn’t know it, but one day he would be known as the Ghoul in Red because of that bloody armor. The suit was a good fit, and Ahab nodded in approval.
Suddenly, something caught Abe’s attention. A large lumbering creature with a human-like body lurched out from behind the group. He was tall, taller than anyone there, and wearing a makeshift suit of metal scrap. He bore his teeth and let out a mighty roar!
“Humans!”
Everyone snapped to action. The woman named Anna, wearing a red suit of metal armor, reacted the quickest, drawing a submachine gun and firing a burst into the monster’s face. Rory fired second, hitting his target’s legs and bringing him to the ground. The fat Russian, Gregori, ran in close and pulled out a sawed off a double-barreled shotgun, firing both of the large twelve gauge shells into the mutant’s head.
“Damn super mutants,” said Ahab as he looked at the hulking carcass. He walked to the dead Talon merc and grabbed the combat shotgun throwing it to Abe, who caught it deftly. “You’re going to need this.”
Abe though back to the journal, of how the scientists had run from mutants. He could see why now.
“We need to move,” said Anna as she looked around at the destroyed buildings. “Super mutants never travel alone. We’re going to be lucky if we get out of here without seeing an overlord….or worse.”
“Only thing worse than an overlord is a behemoth, and those are just myths,” said Rory, looking back to Ahab. “They aren’t really, you know, real, are they?”
“I’ve never seen one, but I’m not going to say they aren’t real,” said Ahab as he hoisted up his minigun. “Either say, Anna’s right, we need to get out of here. Rory, take point, Anna and Greg follow him, and Abe and I will hang back.”
The three nodded and moved out, trying to keep their heads low, while Abe and Ahab followed behind.
“So, what are you doing out and about in the D.C. ruins, Abe?”
“Well, I don’t really know,” said Abe as he kept an eye out for more mutants.
“You don’t know? No offense to you, Abe, but ghouls don’t just wander around the ruins: they stay in Underworld, or they go to Underworld.”
“I don’t really know how to explain it,” said Abe. “I just woke up in a metro tunnel, no memory of who I am. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know my real name.”
Ahab shook his head. “That’s pretty rough, buddy. Don’t worry, memories or not, you’re in the hands of my merc squad, and there’s no safer place in the Wasteland. Well, except maybe a vault. And Rivet City. And Megaton. Lets just say you’re safe enough and leave it at that.”
Abe didn’t really know what to thank or say, but one old reply slowly resurfaced in his mind.
“Thank you.”
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2009 5:33 pm
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XxCrimson_ShinobixX Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Jun 07, 2009 5:49 pm
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 5:12 am
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 6:35 pm
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 8:04 pm
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robthedude Haratio TaFotter XxCrimson_ShinobixX This story is awesome as well!! you two should write books biggrin Its actually funny that you mentioned this. I'm getting ready to go to college to become a writer, and I'm looking for a publisher. I've written three books, a ton of short stories, and lots of other stuff. This is my second fan-fiction, and it will hopefully lead to more based around Abe and the people he meets over the years. Wow eek The biggest story I have ever written was... 15 pages or so. Although I do have some short stories that kinda string together with a lot of gaps in between them though. Hardly have the patience to stick with one idea long enough to be a book. I bow down to your ability to... Not be as easily distracted by other ideas and start writing something else? I dunno, whatever it is I don't have is what you apparently got.
Lol, I thake that as quite a compliment, sir, thank you!
And I almost forgot to mention that I have a short story that I put up in the Arena quite some time ago, called The Weight of War. Feel free to check that out. |
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 8:49 pm
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The funny thing about being in the Wasteland is that time can move however fast or slow it wants, and you’ll feel like you’ve accomplished nothing. The sun was beginning to go down on Abe and the mercenaries, and they were still in the ruins of D.C. with nothing to show for it. At least they hadn’t seen any more of the mutants.
Ahab walked over to one of the concrete structures, checking the inside for anything unsavory. “Looks like this one is clear. Greg, start the fire, Rory, get to work on dinner. Anna, you keep watch while the food is being prepared.” Once again, everyone did as they were told with stunning efficiency. Gregori dug into his pack and pulled out some wood, igniting it with a bit of whiskey. Once the fire was going, Rory pulled a frying pan out of his pack and set out a lump of ground Brahmin to cook. Meanwhile, Anna stood at the doorway, her submachine gun at the ready.
The ground meat sizzled in the pan, Rory flipping the small patties now and a spatula. When Abe smelled the meat, his stomach began to grumble, and he realized he hadn’t eaten in quite some time. When the meat was done, the patties were divided among the mercs and Abe, all of whom ate heartily. It was the first meal Abe could remember, and it was still his favorite.
“Well, now that we have a bit of down time, we might as well get a proper introduction in,” said Ahab as he stood up, clearing his throat. “I am Ahab, and this is my mercenary crew, Bloody Dealings. First we have Gregori, but I just call him Greg for short. He’s our explosives expert, and a close combat specialist. Next we have Rory, our communications technician and cook. Finally, we have Anna, our light weapons specialist. I round out the group as the heavy weapons specialist, tactician, and group leader.”
“Where did you all come from?” Abe asked, curious to find out more about his new friends.
Gregori went first. “When I was young boy, I worked with my parents, who were traveling traders. I was young and quick then, so my father trained me to disarm landmines that we could sell. As I got older, I worked with several merc groups, until I wound up with Ahab.”
“I used to live in Megaton,” said Rory, who decided to go second. “My parents left me there and headed west. I trained under a man who kept a steady water supply for the town, and I worked with a lot of machines and computers. A couple years later, the Brotherhood of Steel showed up and recruited me to be one of their Scribes. I was the top of my class, but I got kicked out when I was repairing a sentry bot that came online and almost got a lot of people killed. I went back to Megaton, and Ahab came and hired me.”
“Mine is simple,” said Ahab. “I grew up in Rivet City, I would often leave to explore outside. Well, one day, I found several dead Brotherhood members, and all of them had miniguns. Not wanting to leave such expensive equipment for something like the super mutants, I dragged them back to my home and repaired them. Most said I would make a great addition to the Rivet City Security, but I couldn’t take being cooped up, so I set out to become a merc, and here I am today.”
Everyone turned Anna, who had taken her food to sit by the door. “Why don’t you come over and tell your story?” asked Abe.
“I’ll tell you what I’ve told the rest of them;” she said quietly, “I’m not talking about my past.”
Abe looked to Ahab for more information, but he just shook his head. “She’s never been one to talk about her past. A little while before I left Rivet city to become a mercenary, she was found outside of the city, sitting by several dead raiders. She was nursed back to health, and eventually left with me to become a merc. She won’t talk to anyone about her life before then.”
Abe looked back to the woman sitting in the doorway. It was darkly ironic: he wanted to remember his past, and Anna wanted nothing to do with her past.
That night, Abe had something he had never experienced before in his memory: a dream. He was seeing everything he had seen the day before, but it was different. The city was shining, there was no debris, the escalators worked, and all the monuments were whole. Everyone wore pleasant and colorful clothes, and they were smiling. Could this have really been the place he had seen the day before?
He suddenly realized even he was different. He was wearing a nice white suit with black pinstripes running down the jacket and slacks. All of a sudden, Abe felt like he had to be somewhere, and checked his watch.
“Four o’clock?!” he exclaimed as he looked across the Mall to the metro tunnel. “I’m gonna miss my train!”
Abe bolted across the street with all his belongings, narrowly missing a pair of young women talking as they walked towards the steps of Lincoln Memorial. He couldn’t be late, not today. Abe needed to make a good impression.
He ran down into the metro tunnel and checked his pocket as he ran to the platform, making sure that he had his tickets. The train was pulling into the station, and he was just about to get through the train doors when he was thrown across the platform by a sudden earthshaking force.
Abe sat up from the corner of the shelter, breathing hard. What had he just seen? He decided to lie back down: after what he had seen the day before, he wanted to have all of his strength.
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