Jace walked through the dim corridor, his footsteps echoing through the empty space.
The green glow of the emergency lights cast strange shadows across the floor, and the pipes along the walls occasionally dripped water.
The first room was a storage room.
The door was half open, so Jace pushed it wider and stepped inside.
Boxes were piled throughout the room, most of them rotted through, their contents scattered across the floor.
He searched around and found a few useful things, along with a rusty baton.
The metal baton felt reassuring in his hand.
Jace gave it a few test swings, getting used to the weight.
It was not an ideal weapon, but it was better than fighting bare-handed.
He kept moving.
The next room was a dormitory.
Several bunk beds stood against the wall, with skeletons lying on them.
Vault Dwellers in Vault suits, reduced to bones by the long passage of time.
Jace forced himself not to look at them and focused on searching.
Under one of the beds, he found a leather holster and a backpack.
The backpack was made of canvas, worn but still usable.
He packed away the things he had found.
In a nightstand, he made an important discovery: a 10mm pistol and two magazines.
The gun had been kept in decent condition.
There was some rust, but the mechanism looked intact.
Jace checked it over.
The magazines were full, fifteen rounds each.
He pulled the slide back experimentally, and it moved smoothly.
“Thank you,” he whispered, though he did not know who he was thanking.
Having a gun changed everything.
Jace slid the pistol into the holster at his waist and continued exploring.
The next room was the medical room.
The door was locked, but Jace pried it open with a wrench.
A strong medicinal smell filled the room, mixed with rot.
The shelves were packed with all kinds of drugs, most of them expired, their labels faded and their liquids long evaporated.
But Jace found something useful: a box of Stimpaks.
There had been ten in the box, and seven were still intact.
He knew how valuable Stimpaks were in the Wasteland.
They could stop bleeding fast, dull pain, and even treat radiation sickness.
He also found a few doses of RadAway.
As a Fallout player, he knew exactly how dangerous radiation could be.
His half-Ghoul body had Radiation Resistance, but he was not truly immune to radiation.
RadAway would always be useful.
The biggest surprise was in the doctor’s desk drawer, where he found a set of leather armor.
It was worn, but with some basic repairs, it could still be used.
The set included chest armor, arm guards, and leg guards, enough to provide basic protection.
Jace put on the leather armor and felt much better.
A Vault suit was far too thin.
In the Wasteland, wearing only that was almost the same as running around naked.
The leather armor would not stop bullets, but it could at least protect him from some claws, bites, and blunt attacks.
Once he was properly equipped, Jace decided to go to the Overseer’s office.
He wanted more information, especially about Nate’s condition.
The Overseer’s office was in the center of the Vault.
The door was automatic, slowly opening when it detected someone approaching.
Inside was a huge observation window, with more sleep pods visible beyond it.
A person sat in front of the control console.
Or rather, someone who had once been a person.
The Overseer’s body had already become a skeleton, still seated in the chair.
Jace walked around the corpse and stepped up to the console.
He activated the terminal, and the screen lit up, showing the Vault’s status.
Vault 111 Status Report
Total Residents: 1 survivor
Cryogenic System: 99% failure rate
External Environment: Radiation levels safe
Last External Access: 2227 (unauthorized entry)
Unauthorized entry sixty years ago.
The Institute.
It looked like the Institute had not had Vault-Tec authorization after all.
Back then, they must have used some other method to open the Vault door.
Jace pulled up the surveillance feed for Nate’s cryopod.
According to the terminal, Nate was still asleep, his vital signs stable.
Most of the cryogenic system had failed, but his pod was still running.
Whether that was luck or misfortune, Jace could not say.
He exited the cryopod management interface and began looking through other information, especially the detailed files on the Pip-Boy prototype from Vault 76.
The console contained a full technical archive.
Jace found the complete record for that Pip-Boy prototype:
Item: Pip-Boy 3000 Mark IV Prototype (Vault 76 Version)
Serial Number: 76-VT-001
Date of Manufacture: 2075
Special Features:
Enhanced Holographic Map (real-time updates)Advanced Bio-Scan (identifies mutated creatures)Experimental Combat Assistance SystemVault 76-exclusive data interfaceUnknown function (requires Overseer permissions to activate)
Warning: This device is an experimental model and may contain unstable features.
Vault 76 technology classification is “Top Secret.” Use at your own risk.
Location: Deep Tech Storage Room B-12
Enhanced map.
Bio-Scan.
Combat assistance system.
In the Wasteland, those features would be priceless.
Especially for a newcomer like Jace.
He had a player’s knowledge, but no real Wasteland experience.
But what about the risks?
“Unstable features,” “use at your own risk.” Nothing from Vault 76 was ever simple.
Jace thought it over.
He knew the story of Vault 76.
In Fallout 76, its residents were among the first to leave their Vault, thrown into the rawest and most dangerous version of the Wasteland.
Their technology had been developed for survival.
Practical, but maybe a little extreme.
And what had happened to the residents of Vault 76 afterward?
The game had never made that entirely clear.
Some became legends.
Some disappeared.
Some might have become something else altogether.
Did this Pip-Boy prototype have hidden problems?
Could it affect the user?
Could it…
change him?
Jace did not know.
But he did know one thing: in the Wasteland, there was no reward without risk.
Without an edge, survival would be hard.
He removed the Pip-Boy from the Overseer’s wrist, then made up his mind to go below and retrieve the prototype.
Jace left the Overseer’s office and headed for the third basement level.
He knew the way.
He had seen the Vault’s floor plan on the console.
The deep-level tech storage room was at the lowest level of the Vault, beyond several security doors.
The first door stood at the bottom of the stairs.
It was a heavy metal door marked with a radiation warning symbol.
There was an open button on the control panel beside it, and Jace pressed it.
The lock clicked, and the door slowly opened.
Beyond it was another staircase leading down, darker and colder than before.
There were fewer emergency lights here, and some had already gone out, while others flickered unsteadily.
Jace tightened his grip on the pistol and slowly descended.
The staircase was long, turning three times before finally reaching the bottom.
There, another corridor stretched ahead, narrower than the one above, with a lower ceiling.
The air smelled of mildew, mixed with the sharp ozone stink of a leaking generator.
Something moved in the darkness at the far end of the corridor.
Jace stopped and gripped the pistol tighter.
The green emergency lighting was too dim to reach very far.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the blurry shapes.
Radroaches.
Jace’s breath caught.
As a Fallout player, he had seen these creatures countless times.
In the game, they were bottom-tier trash mobs.
Step on them, hit them with a baton, kill them without wasting a bullet.
But that was the game.
That was something on a screen.
Now they were three meters away.
Each one was as large as a cat.
Their brown-black shells gleamed with an oily shine under the green light, their antennae twitching, their six legs covered in fine bristles.
They seemed to notice him too, stopping in place and turning their heads toward him.
He could not see their eyes, but he knew they were looking at him.
“Fuck.”
Jace raised the gun with both hands and aimed.
The first Radroach moved, far faster than he had expected.
Its six legs worked in perfect rhythm, its body low to the ground as it rushed straight at him.
Jace pulled the trigger.
Bang.
The bullet skimmed past the Radroach’s left side and struck the wall, spraying chips of concrete.
The Radroach was not hit.
If anything, the gunshot seemed to spur it on, and it moved even faster.
Second shot.
Bang.
Another miss.
The bullet flew over the Radroach’s head and hit the second one behind it.
But it only grazed the creature.
A thin spray of fluid burst from one of its legs.
It paused for a moment, then kept coming.
Three of them.
All three were moving.
All three were charging at him.
Jace’s finger stayed on the trigger, but he knew he could not keep shooting.
They were too fast.
Too close.
He lowered the gun and drew the baton from his waist.
The first one had already reached his feet, its antennae almost brushing his boot.
Jace swung the baton and brought it down with all his strength.
Thud.
Metal struck shell with a dull, sickening crunch.
Half of the Radroach’s body flattened under the blow, fluid splattering out as its six legs kept twitching.
But it was still alive.
Still moving.
Jace struck it again.
A third time, then a fourth.
Until it stopped moving.
The second one had circled around to his side and was crawling toward his calf.
Jace turned, stomped down, and kicked it away.
The Radroach rolled twice, then got back up.
The third one was closing in too.
Two of them, one on his left, one on his right.
Jace took a step back until his back hit the corridor wall.
He could not retreat any farther.
He tightened his grip on the baton and fixed his eyes on the one to his left.
It was closer, and more badly injured.
Take that one first.
Another swing.
This time, the baton smashed into its head.
Its shell cracked, and fluid burst out.
The Radroach convulsed violently, then went limp.
One left.
That Radroach seemed to realize something.
It froze in place, antennae twitching.
Jace stared at it for one second.
Maybe half a second.
Then he rushed forward.
One swing.
Two.
Three.
Until it stopped moving completely.
The corridor fell silent.
Only Jace’s heavy breathing remained, along with the faint drip of fluid falling from the baton to the floor.
He leaned against the wall and looked down at the three Radroach corpses.
His hands were shaking.
He almost could not keep hold of the baton.
In the game, he had killed thousands of Radroaches.
With bullets, with bats, with his fists, even by blowing them up with a Fat Man.
It had never bothered him.
But now, he looked down at the fluid splattered across his hands.
Thick, faintly warm, carrying a sharp, fishy stink.
His stomach churned.
This was not a game.
He took several deep breaths and forced himself to calm down.
Then he crouched and wiped the baton against one of the Radroach corpses.
It did not come clean, but at least it was not as slippery anymore.
He stood and kept walking.
But his fingers stayed clenched around the baton.
He did not let go again.
There were several rooms on both sides of the corridor, all with their doors closed.
Jace did not bother exploring them and headed straight for Room B-12 at the end of the hall.
The door to Room B-12 was so heavy it looked like a cold metal fortress.
From a distance, it was almost exactly like the door to a bank vault, radiating a grim, intimidating weight.
Beside the door was a very familiar port, just like the one outside a Vault door, designed for a Pip-Boy data cable.
Jace’s eyes were drawn to it at once, and his heart began to beat faster.
He took a deep breath and slowly pulled out the Overseer’s Pip-Boy data cable.
His hand was trembling slightly.
The loose end of the cable swayed in the dim light.
Jace lined it up with the port and inserted it cleanly.
There was a faint, crisp click, like the first turn of some hidden gear.
The Pip-Boy screen lit up at once with a soft blue glow, standing out sharply in the darkness.
A low mechanical rumble followed from inside the door, like some enormous beast waking from sleep.
The heavy door slowly slid apart to both sides, grinding dully and stirring up a thin cloud of dust.
Jace narrowed his eyes and waited for whatever lay beyond to reveal itself.
The sight inside left him stunned.
This was no ordinary storage room.
It was a complete technical laboratory.
Small, but fully equipped.
The workbenches were covered with instruments: oscilloscopes, signal generators, data loggers.
Circuit diagrams and technical manuals hung on the walls, yellowed with age.
In the center of the room stood a special workbench.
On top of it sat a metal case marked with the Vault 76 logo.
The case was open, and inside was the Pip-Boy prototype.
Jace walked over and bent down to study it carefully.
This Pip-Boy was far more refined than he had expected.
No, more than that.
It gave off a completely different impression from the standard models.
Its casing was made of dark gray military-grade alloy, the surface carefully matte-finished to prevent both slipping and glare.
The whole design was sleek and compact, with clean, sharp lines, as if it had been built for maximum portability.
He reached out and picked it up, then found, to his surprise, that it was much lighter than he had imagined.
It did not feel like a heavy industrial product.
It felt more like a precision-made personal tool.
The screen was a monochrome LCD.
Though it was off, he could still faintly see that familiar amber sheen, the classic color of old Pip-Boys.
But this one was thinner than the standard models, with a narrower frame, and its overall shape fit the curve of the wrist far better than the bulky standard-issue Vault models.
The most distinctive part was its power system.
Jace turned it over and saw the iconic nuclear battery compartment cover.
Not a charging dock.
Not an external power source.
An integrated microfusion cell.
That meant it did not need charging, and it did not need batteries replaced.
As long as it was not damaged, it could run for decades.
Maybe even longer.
“Something from Vault 76…” Jace murmured, his fingers brushing over the inconspicuous six-pin port on the casing.
“No wonder that place was full of monsters.”
Jace looked at the device in his hand and hesitated for a few final seconds.
Putting it on meant accepting all of this.
Accepting this Fallout world, accepting this half-Ghoul body, accepting this…
fate.
He took a deep breath and fastened the Pip-Boy onto his left wrist.
The device tightened automatically, fitting itself around his wrist.
Not too loose, not too tight.
Perfect.
Then he pressed the button on the side of the Pip-Boy.
The screen lit up.
Biometric scan in progress…
Radiation-mutant traits detected
Adapting prototype biometric system…
Adaptation complete
User confirmed
Welcome to the Vault 76-standard Pip-Boy
The main interface appeared.
It looked similar to the one in the game, but not quite the same.
There were more options, the layout was more complex, and it carried a faint precision that felt closer to laboratory equipment.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
stats, inventory, map, quest log, radio, and a special icon: a gear emblem marked 76.
Jace tapped the icon.
Vault 76 Pip-Boy exclusive function modules:
Enhanced Holographic Map (activated)
Supports 3D projection
Advanced Bio-Scan (calibration required)
Can detect vital signs, radiation levels, and potential threats
Experimental Combat Assistance System (testing required)
Developed by Vault 76 Tactical Division.
Requires field calibration
Vault Data Interface (no connection)
Can connect to any Vault-Tec terminal
Camera Function (activated)
Uses the holographic projection module for instant image recording
Unknown Function (locked)
Requires connection to a Vault Workshop
He opened the map first.
The holographic projection module produced a hologram showing the full layout of Vault 111.
It was not just a floor plan.
It was a three-dimensional model, zoomable and rotatable through the Pip-Boy’s knobs, with every room and every pipe clearly visible.
There were also dynamic markers on the map.
His own position was a pulsing green dot, the exit was a steady blue marker, and several flashing red markers showed other life forms automatically flagged by the system.
Even if these were only the Pip-Boy’s basic game functions, they were already incredibly powerful.
After all, in the real world, a Pip-Boy could not be used to assign perk points.
Jace looked at the device on his wrist and felt different.
With the Pip-Boy, he was no longer completely in the dark.
He had information.
He had tools.
He had possibilities.
He also found several technical manuals about the maintenance and use of Vault 76 equipment.
He could not understand all of them, but they would be useful to keep.
Finally, he checked his gear:
10mm pistol (two magazines, 30 rounds)Baton (melee weapon)Leather armor (basic protection)Stimpaks (7)RadAway (5)Water (enough for a few days)Pip-Boy prototype (most important piece of gear)
He was ready.
Or at least, as ready as he could be.
Jace left the technical storage room and returned to the Overseer’s office.
He took one last look at Nate’s cryopod.
The American soldier was still asleep, unaware of how the outside world had changed, unaware of his wife’s death, unaware of his son’s fate.
“We’ll meet again,” he said quietly, as if speaking to himself.
He did not know whether that was a promise or a comfort.
But he knew he could not, and did not want to, stay in the Vault forever.
The Wasteland was waiting.
This broken, scarred world was waiting.
When Nate woke up, he would find that someone else had already gotten a head start in this world.
Jace walked toward the exit.
Beyond the heavy airlock door was the elevator leading upward.
At the end of that elevator was the Wasteland.
He pressed the open button, and the door slowly lifted with a heavy metallic scrape.
Jace took a deep breath and stepped forward.
The Wasteland was waiting.
And he, a player from another world, a half-Ghoul, a survivor wearing a Vault 76 artifact, was ready.