Today I thought I might share a fanfiction story I’ve made during my pass time. It’s a self contained story which doesn’t tie into any of the games main story events. Hope you guys enjoy the story!

 Head-screen

Once, there was a vibrant small town on the edge of Boston, a thriving town that was the dream for many Americans. ‘The future’ they said would be a prosperous and bright one for years to come.

But that dream was not a reality, for America was on the cusp of a full scale nuclear war. After the war for Anchorage was won by the USA, the Chinese had lost all options to claim fuel supply’s that they so desperately need to survive. So it was that they have prepared to ignite their nuclear weapons towards America.

It came as a sudden horror to the towns folk when it was announced by the military that nuclear annihilation was coming. In an instant the town was teared from history by the great atomic war of 2075. All that was left was the husked wreckage that the town once stood on, except for one building, Posiden energy station.
This story follows a very unusual post war survivor by the name of ‘Head-screen’, a entrepreneur who is known for his unusual headwear. A tale of what an average merchant would to survive in a world that tries to kill you before you could even scream.
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Part 1, Feral Keeper

The land was dry, barren and silent, as the dust blew through the wreckage of the forgotten town, not too far from Boston. If anyone during the pre-war time were still inside the buildings before the bombs fell, than they would be but ash and bone. Nothing living moved in the town apart from the wind blowing tattered flags and shredded curtains.

However, just down south from the town was a gas station down the road. The tar road has crumbled and spilt from lack of attention for nearly 200 years, the technology to repair the roads have long been forgotten. Just as the gas station is in clear view, it’s obvious to see that the building structure was far from being unaffected by the nuclear blast winds. All the of windows have been smashed through, letting the wind howl into the building. Not only that, but the building itself is in a state of disrepair as ceiling panels, metal plating, walls, doors and lighting were either broken or corroding away.
Inside, at the station till stood a tall man in a stripe grey suite with his red tie, black boots and wearing a half working TV box set on his head. This chap was known to travellers by the name of ‘Head-screen’, a cocky entrepreneur who would sell (cheap quality but pricey) junk to wanderers who pass by his shop. His past is shrouded in mystery, very much like the town near by. Some say he’s a ghoul who wears a TV box to hide his melted face, many say he’s actually a rouge robot from out of space, whilst others say that he might be a mutated fly-man that evolved from a Bloatfly, but none can say what he truly is.

He was waiting at the till impatiently as his customer was looking at the junk on display, this customer had been at the shop for almost two hours. She wore a dirty green dress that was in tatters in patchy areas, her shoes were just barely even on her feet, her hair was short messy and grey and her skin seemed old and worn down. She was Just dribbling and starring at the shelf like a hungry day dreamer on radroach meat. Head-screen mumbled as the customer breathed heavily as though she were out of breath from running, but deeper than normal. “Look las, I know your taking your sweet time to gaze at my products, but I haven’t got all day ya know!” Grumbled Head-screen in a static tone from his speakers, as he looked at the customer with irritation. 

However, the customer suddenly turned around at the owner, eyes the colour of sickness, teeth as ridged and yellow as decay, skin melted and worn from radiation and a growl like a sore throat. His customer was sadly a feral ghoul, a regular customer who always came on a Tuesday just to look at the shelf until just after 17:14pm. This ghoul was once the co-owner of the station until the bombs came, the radiation had sadly turned her feral over time. She now lived in the shadow of her former life as nothing more than an animal with no purpose.

Head-screen jumped out of his seat as his screen face formed into a shocked face and waved his hands in peace, the feral ghoul turned back around to stare at the shelf once more. Why she stares at a shelf is a mystery, maybe a fractured memory that she still retains of a moment in the pass, or just staring at the owners nicely arranged display of cheap goods.’This is gonna take awhile’ sighed Head-screen as he looked at the clock, only just gone 14:30pm. 

By the time the feral ghoul left the station, the owner had fallen asleep from boredom of waiting around. His screen face was a static fuzzy screen of crackle, lighting the dark room as night time approached. 

Just outside the station, a group of raiders appeared from the darkness with crude gear and malice in their hungry gaze. One of the members spoke with a gruff but excitingly devilish tone “time to get some goods from the oven boys!”. The raiders laughed as they started to approach the station with their pipe pistols loaded and ready to seek and destroy……….

To be continued.

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I hope you guys have enjoyed this fanfiction story, I’ve had fun writing it in my spare time. If you guys want me to write more on this story, comment below and like the post. 

Thank you for reading this post!

-Bjorndovah

[note: this is just a fanfiction post based on the Fallout franchise, which is owned by Bethesda. I don’t not own any of the characters nor setting of the Fallout franchise, and all property’s belong to its respective creators].

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