Chapter Text
Myles was afraid.
He had just killed his only friend’s father and ran away from sanctuary. Now he was stuck in some damp cave with his back resting against the heavy metal door that separated all he loved and knew from the savages, and with his own Vault attempting to execute and exile him, he was to now become one of these savages. A shiver in his hand remained constant. Yet there was no cold. He brushed his sleeve over his tearful eyes, coating his arm in the blood of the people he grew up with, people he laughed with, people he argued with, and it was all gone. Vanishing like a breath, one so difficult to hold in.
His hand pushed against the ground, needing something stable to steady himself on. He needed to find his Father. The only person he had left in his life. He had woken up just a few hours ago abandoned and alone being hunted and he knew that no matter what he had to do, he had to find his father. To make sure he was okay. To make sure he wasn’t killed by the savages. To punch him for what he made him do.
His knees buckled as he picked himself up, a sharp pain shooting up them. Maybe from getting hit with a baton, or maybe from the continuous sprinting, for all he knew it could have been both. His eyes pointed downwards, watching as he shifted the balance between his feet, knowing what he had to do, but not knowing if he could bear to continue. And then, with almost all the will in his body:
He took a step.
And another one.
Each step he took made the next easier, calmer. He pushed against the floor again and again. Moving forwards. Closer to his goal. Closer to finding his father.
A small dim lantern lit up his field of view. It was probably connected to the vault. Made to tell the people that this was the way to go, the way to safety. But instead of the idea of refuge his ancestors felt when they saw it, all it made him think was a feeling of true inescapable fear. Previously, the only light he had was his Pip-Boy’s torch, cutting through the darkness and the unknown. But, that lamp made it redundant, truly signalling that nothing he learned in the vault would be helpful now.
He wasn't sure how but he was near the end of the cave's path, he must have zoned out, stopped thinking about where he was going and more about how all he knew was gone. He stood at a door. Wooden. Rotting. With piercing beams of light jutting in between the gaps of wood.
Awakening him from his shock was a quick clicking, a sharp pulse
He turned rapidly to his arm.
[+1 Rads]
It was just as the Overseer said, the air is poisonous. How could he survive out here? More importantly, How could his father survive out here?
He knew what could happen, if he opened this door, he could be greeted by his dad’s recently dead corpse being picked clean by the creatures from up above. His father was a doctor not a fighter, he couldn’t even claw his way out of a paper bag.
“Why did he have to do this?” He asked himself, speaking in a whisper, afraid of being seen as weak, even by himself. He breathed in deeply, regaining his composure. His hand raised up, soon reaching the door. It rattled gently, yet stayed firm. And with one last deep breath he pushed forward into a new world.