Prelude: Fully expect grammar and spelling mistakes. I’m mentally ill so playing Fallout has helped me cope in my mental health issues. I may also get dates and years wrong for the lore nerd in the audience. I’m one of those Lore nerds, don’t worry, I’ll correct them if you can state the issue. This is a work of fiction, and any similarities to real life persons and events are purely coincidental. My favorite Fallout is New Vegas, quite obviously.
My life has been destroyed in 2281. I was drafted to fight the Legion at the age of 17. I’ve known some refugees some the Legion, they are monsters. This draft has been hard on the NCR population back home. I chose to fight as I see the Legion as nothing more than true evil incarnate. I’ve never killed, I’ve never seen war before. My Great Grandfather grew up in Shady Sands before the Vault Dweller showed up and saved the town. We were all Catholics. Religion isn’t something you find in the Wasteland now a-days, but it’s nice to believe someone is out there trying to help protect humanity in some way. My father is in his 60s. He was nearly killed by a raider when he was 30. Some thug with a baseball bat nearly murdered my father before I was born. Though he is dying back home. The NCR promised all the money to save him when I signed up.
My grandfather on my mother’s side still lives. He’s the son of the man who grew up before the Vault Dweller appeared in Shady Sands. My Grandfather saw the Vault Dweller from a distance. He heard the stories of his heroism. Though he dismisses such ideas as rumors. It’s of course all history to me. We are all in a truck on the long 15. The NCR has a giant war machine, quite the site to behold. Though as we pass I saw children playing, all younger than I.
We had a commanding officer, real odd one that guy was. I can’t quite remember his name. He was old, really old. I’m not sure he was even human. His name was Sgt. Granite. He said something about being ex Enclave. If I remember correctly that’s the man who served with the Enclave. I wasn’t going to kill him. As he could be a descendant of the old man who served under the Enclave. No person should be judged based upon the sins of his ancestors. I heard chatter among the other men in my unit. They were so fearful.
We then heard the sound of death itself. The Divide erupted in nuclear fire once more. I felt the rockets of death rise from the bases upon something in the distance. I could not see where they were going, but I knew not to look where they were going. I closed my eyes and prayed for death to not come to any of the children of the Long 15. Then I heard nothing. No explosion, no death, just a missile going somewhere. I pray for those for whom that missile hit. No monster should use those weapons, no child deserves to die for the sins of a nation. I even pray for the monster that used that weapon, that even those who make bad decisions may decide that their decisions have consequences upon which true evil is based. Some actions are necessary, but don’t become the monster you wish to stop in the process. Truly war doesn’t change.
War, War never changes.
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