Animus’s eyes fluttered open. He got out of the bed, stretching like a cat as he did so. He turned to look at the clock in the bedroom.
‘5:30 AM. Good enough.’ He thought.
Refreshed from the sleep, he immediately got to work.
Quickly, he found a packaged toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom. Animus removed them from their package and brushed his teeth in a hurry. Next, he took off his jumpsuit and entered the bathtub and turned the shower knob on. He swept his dark hair back as the water fell on his face and pale skin. Within a minute, he exited the shower, grabbed a couple new towels, and wiped himself clean. He proceeded to enter the bedroom again and check the wardrobe.
A sea of blue jumpsuits greeted him.
He made a look of disgust.
“God above, why do I have to wear this?” He said begrudgingly and wore a jumpsuit.
He then immediately left the unit to find the classroom section of the Residential Floor. Thankfully, there were signs pointing to the major sections of the floor. It was in another corner of the floor, requiring him to go through the Atrium. It was dark and early; not a soul was in sight. Animus followed the signs and made his way to the classroom.
Pushing through a door, he saw a huge chalkboard and rows of desks with chairs. Spotting a cupboard with rows of schoolbooks, he reached them and grabbed one. It was empty. He grabbed a pen and two paper clips from a stationary stand on the teacher’s desk. Animus then sat on one of the chairs.
Without needing to think about it, words flew. Animus crafted a meticulous plan to win over the vault’s residents and convince them to take his side should things take a turn for the worse.
‘I would need to bribe some, charm many, and coerce others to convince them to follow my words. The plan needs to be flexible yet constructive.’ He thought.
But deep down, Animus knew that plans almost always go awry.
Next, he constructed a rigorous daily schedule to maximize stat and skill gain for the next one year.
‘Based on my assumptions, there should be activities to enhance Strength, Perception, Endurance, and Intelligence in the entire vault. If there are none, I just need to create them.’ He decided.
After planning his daily schedule and drawing up activities he can perform, Animus left the classroom to explore the vault.
He looked at his Pip-Boy to check the time. It was on the top right corner of the screen.
[6:20 AM]
‘Now is the best time, since most people are asleep from the stress of the apocalypse.’ He thought.
After scouting the floor and checking all the signs he came across, Animus discovered that there were three elevators on every floor. There were no signs of a secret elevator. He couldn’t rule out a secret floor yet, either.
He arrived at the central elevator in 15 minutes. He promptly called for it, entered it, and pressed on the second button. The first floor was the vault entrance. He didn’t need to go visit it again after yesterday.
The elevator played a jingle and soon reached the second level of the vault. With a chime, its doors opened.
Animus exited the elevator and was greeted with an interesting sight. Rows of tubes lined the walls and ceilings, and massive machines with delicate pieces shifted slowly.
Animus’s gaze focused on one of the pieces. It was set in the center of the machinery, and seemed to play a pivotal role, like a machine heart. It was a large, metallic circuit board. Several tubes connected to it and spanned the whole floor.
‘That must be the infamous water chip. According to what I remember of my deep dives of the lore of Fallout, Vault-Tec commissioned this item’s manufacturing to the lowest bidder. It has a 30% failure rate. It is also the reason the original plot of Fallout started.
‘The water chip failed in one of the vaults and the protagonist of the first Fallout game set out to find a solution. The other games followed the consequences of the first game.
‘They led to the eventual destruction of Vault-Tec and its leadership. All because they wanted to save some money. How ironic.’ He thought with great amusement.
‘I am not sure how long this chip would last. We will need an alternative. I pray this vault has a G.E.C.K. I hope Robert pulled through.’ Animus thought deeply.
“Where could it be, thought?” He thought out loud.
Shaking his head at the lack of an answer, Animus turned and left.
Entering the elevator, he pressed 3.
While the elevator moved, playing a jingle unsuited for an apocalyptic shelter, Animus thought about the gift he asked from Robert.
‘A G.E.C.K., or as it is known by its full form, the Garden of Eden Creation kit. One of the most powerful items in the Fallout universe, it can single-handedly kickstart civilization in the right hands.
‘Depending on the game, it is a suitcase that, when opened, results in a matter explosion that terraforms entire regions. If not that, it contains a water purifier, matter reconstructor, a cold-fusion power generator, seeds, fertilizers, soil supplements, and basic tools. I must prioritize its safe use.’ He thought, leaning his head against the elevator door. He placed his palm on the cool metal surface.
His shoulders grew heavy for a moment.
Ding
The elevator chime awoke Animus from his thoughts.
He moved back to let the doors open. Once they did, he took a deep breath of excitement as his eyes looked up.
Multiple corridors opened up with a huge sign above pointing to them:
← Armory
↖ Game Room
↑ Gym
↗ Dojo
→ Athletics Room
↓ Elevator
“Gotta love America.” He grinned, echoing his sentiment from yesterday.
Animus turned left. He needed to inspect his options.
After walking for a minute and crossing a set of double-doors, Animus entered a large open area. Guns of several kinds lined the left, all of them neatly aligned in glass cabinets behind padlocks. Steel cupboards to the right of him held various kinds of ammunition, also behind padlocks. He inspected them carefully, his newfound knowledge from his levelled up skills letting him understand which guns used what bullets.
Animus looked around. Cameras stared at him, but there were no guards present here right now.
“Lucky me.” He chuckled.
In front of him, there were large steel tables. He placed the pen and notebook down on the one closest to him.
He turned to inspect the lock of a glass cabinet containing pistols. It was a simple, albeit large, padlock. He shifted around it. His back now faced the camera pointing directly at the padlock. He positioned himself at an angle such that the other cameras also could not clearly see what he doing.
He pulled out the paper clips he got from the classrooms earlier.
Basic knowledge of what to do entered his mind. He unbent one clip until it was straight. He bent it to form a tiny hook at the end, bent into a ‘W’ shape at a 45-degree angle. He unbent the other until it formed an ‘L’ shape at a 90-degree angle.
‘To pick a lock using household items, you need to fashion two different tools: a pick to manipulate the internal pins and a tension wrench to turn the lock cylinder. The straight clip with the small hook is my pick, and the L-shaped clip is the tension wrench. Now, time to get to work.’ Animus thought.
He inserted the leg of the L-shaped clip into the bottom of the keyhole, opposite to where the key’s teeth would go. He began gently turning it clockwise. Getting the force right was crucial, lest the pins jam.
He proceeded to insert the pick into the top of the keyhole and began carefully raking it all the way to the back of the lock. He felt resistance.
Sweat dripped down on his forehead. The angle was difficult to maintain. With below-average endurance, Animus knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. He had to quickly finish this.
A gruelling ten minutes passed. Sweat dripped down Animus’ forehead. He kept raking the pick non-stop. His hands and arms burned. Finally, the pins aligned correctly. He rotated the cylinder completely.
Click
The lock opened and fell down.
“Oh! The lock fell off on its own!” He exclaimed, turning to the camera with innocent, wide eyes. Yet he couldn’t fight off the grin on his face.
‘I did it. Yes!’ He cackled inwardly.
He knew this would get him attention, but he was willing to risk it for a firearm.
Animus opened the glass cabinet. He picked a Glock 17. Its pristine look captured his attention.
‘Good. The Glock 17 is easy to maintain and, to an extent, conceal in a coat. It is also the only gun I have experience with. I need a box next.’ He thought.
He turned to his right. He hoped that the steel cupboard opposite the glass cabinet containing pistols would also contain ammunition appropriate for them. He again positioned himself carefully and began picking the padlock.
In slightly less than ten minutes, the lock opened and fell off. Animus opened the cupboard and saw rows of neatly lined boxes with ammunition.
Picking a box of 9mm Parabellum, Animus moved back to the left.
‘The box should contain around 50 rounds. Let’s test a few and find out what Level 30 Small Guns expertise can do.’ He grinned.
Beyond the steel tables, segregated compartments with an ear muffler each along with human-shaped targets for practice lay waiting. He quickly removed the magazine of the Glock and added five bullets to it. Animus closed the box, put his lockpick clips inside the notebook, and moved to the left-most compartment. He turned around once to make sure no one would creep up behind him.
Confirming his solitude, he turned back to the firing range, wore the ear mufflers, and held his gun. As he aimed it, an unknown familiarity settled over him. He unconsciously adjusted his stance, improving it for better aim. He took a breath and focused.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
He exhaled slowly.
“This is insane...” He drawled. “I was nowhere near this good. I am at least three or four times better now.”
A determined look entered his eyes.
“I must level up.” He said, and filled the gun’s magazine to the brim. It contained a total of 17 rounds.
For the next two hours, Animus forgot himself. His arms and legs cried in protest, yet he cruelly ignored the pain he was inflicting on himself. He emptied the magazine, refilled it, and kept going until the box was empty. Once it emptied, he went back to the storage of the armory and grabbed another box. He kept aiming at different targets and didn’t stop until he emptied the second box too. He committed entirely to the grind.
Click-Click
“Hmm?” He said.
“Ah, it’s over.” He muttered, and turned to look at the gun. The barrel was hot to the touch. But what was odd was that it no longer felt like a weapon, but like an uncomfortable extension of himself. That feeling disappeared as quickly as it arrived once Animus stopped shooting. He glanced at the various targets. He could make out the burns and holes covering various points of their bodies.
He frowned. He could clearly see that his last shot hit close to the edge of the face of one target. He almost missed. His arms were groaning in pain. His throat was parched. His body felt weak.
He took a seat, slowly grabbed some tools from the armory storage, and proceeded to clean the gun. Once done, he painstakingly collected the empty casings and filled them in the two boxes. He grabbed a third box of 9mm Parabellum and sat again for a moment.
He tilted his head and then looked downward, staring at his Pip-Boy on his left arm.
‘For some reason, it felt like I grew a lot from my practice. I should look at the system.’ He thought and lifted his arm.
He quickly shifted the screens to his stats menu, which revealed the truth.
[Stats]
[S.P.E.C.I.A.L]
[S: 2]
[P: 4]
[E: 4]
[C: 5]
[I: 8]
[A: 2]
[L: 10]
‘Well, my stats are the same. I guess stat growth isn’t so easy. What stat would grow from live fire exercises? Perception?’ Animus wondered.
He quickly moved to the Skills menu next. Two skills glowed. He zeroed in on the them.
[Skills]
[Small Guns: Lv. 30 > 32]
[Lockpick: Lv. 5 > 7]
His eyes widened in thought, ‘Two levels in one go? I didn’t expect that. And Lockpick went up by two levels, too? The skill must have leveled up each time I picked a lock. I guess that’s why picking the second lock was marginally easier. But I doubt it’s going to be so easy to level the skill up by picking the same lock again and again. No way can the system be gamed like that. Well, levels do go till 300 in the System. Thinking back to Small Guns, no wonder the Glock felt better and better in my hands. But I doubt the levels can cap with just the usage of one gun for Small Guns too. I should open the description for a second.’
He tapped on the skill to expand the description.
[Small Guns: Lv. 32]
[Use of conventional kinetic firearms, including pistols, submachine guns, rifles, and shotguns.]
‘Should I practice with submachine guns, rifles, and shotguns now, too? Or should I focus on something else? The best part is that in the armory, I am improving my skills and obtaining firearms.’ He thought.
Then, his belly rumbled.
Animus stared down at his stomach in surprise.
“Excuse me? We don’t have the time for food...is what I would like to say. But nutrition is essential.” He said while nodding.
Animus locked the glass cabinet and steel cupboard with the padlocks he picked. He simply held the lock tight and it clicked back into place. Holding the pen, notebook containing his paper clips, Glock 17, and the three boxes of 9mm Parabellum, Animus left the armory and returned to his Unit. On the way, he encountered a few curious onlookers. He minded his own business and reached Unit 01 in 15 minutes.
Entering using the green button, he looked at the clock in the hall.
9 AM.
**
At the vault entrance.
Hands pounded the doors of the vault. Screams and cries echoed from the outside. Bodies slammed against the vault’s heavy bulkhead entrance. The sounds were dull and muffled.
Rachel Greaves watched the door with a cool, detached look. Flanking her were Beatrice and another staff member with dark hair and a flower pin in her hair.
Beatrice trembled at the sounds.
“Miss Rachel, can’t we let them in?” Beatrice asked, her voice low and pleading.
“No.” Rachel answered and turned back to stare at Beatrice. Her gaze was emotionless. “We lack the capacity to do so. The vault’s housing units are full, and our farms cannot sustain the people outside. And most importantly...”
A vile grin emerged on Rachel’s face. Beatrice and the other staff member shivered.
“Letting people in would disrupt the vault’s primary purpose. The social experiment where 1 man is forced to survive in a vault with nine hundred and ninety-nine women. Our work takes precedence over sentiment. If the people outside wanted to enter the vault, they should have purchased the Vault-Tec vault tickets. It’s their fault for not doing so,” She said, her voice cutting the area.
Rachel addressed Beatrice. “Station a guard here. I don’t want any wandering subjects to see the vault door and hear the sounds outside. Anyway, the people outside will die soon enough.”
Beatrice lowered her head.
“Yes, Madam Overseer...” She said, her voice a whisper.
The other staff member’s Pip-Boy pinged. She looked at it. She read the message and quickly looked at Rachel.
“Miss Rachel, Subject One broke into the armory! He left with a gun and three boxes of ammunition!” She reported in panic.
Rachel stilled. Then, she threw her head back and laughed.
Beatrice and the other staff member looked at her in discomfort.
An eerie grin emerged on Rachel’s face. Her staff members looked away, trembling once again.
“Looks like our little toy has thoughts of his own. What a naughty subject. It’s time to discipline him,” She said.
“Come with me, Beatrice, Patsy. We are going now.” Rachel declared and moved towards the central elevator.
Beatrice and Patsy followed her.
Screams and the sounds of hands desperately pounding against the vault door continued to echo in the entrance chamber.