I stand there looking at all my rolls and think to myself, 'Does it get any better than this?' and I think right back, 'No, no it doesn't,' But I wait a few seconds for the abilities to kick in—only to feel nothing happen.
"What, do I have to say syst— ACK!" I begin, before feeling like my brain is getting the mental equivalent of getting kicked in the balls before also getting thrown into a blender and feeling every bit of it as it gets turned into a smoothie. Then suddenly, it ends with a wave of cooling comfort. "Hah, hah…holy mother of fuck was that painful, will that happen every time? I hope not." I say, opening my eyes and noticing I can see clearer, no "clearer" isn't the right word for it. It's more like seeing everything I just didn't process before. Smell too, along with touch and hearing.
"Wow this is—heg oh fuck, what is that taste? Is that what processing everything you can taste is like?" I nearly vomit again but keep it in. Putting all that aside, I need to find out exactly what I'm going to do now. 'I'm all beat up from when Benny and the Khans grabbed me so I can still go to Doc Mitchell's place and get patched up there. But what after?' I continue to think on what to do as I look around myself, testing just how good the processing speed of my brain is when I decide to just start going to Doc Mitchell's place for now and worry about that later…but first.
* Bang! *
"One more for the road, eh Benny?" I say after shooting him in the head again, blowing open his skull in the process. Double taps are always important when you need them to stay down, I mean, just look at me. Turning away I stare at the corpses of the Khans for a moment before shrugging and moving on. "Sorry guys, but it was either you or me and I'd rather it be me." I finish, wiping my hands of the Khans then and there. I might not blame them, but I sure as Hell don't like them. I mean, come on, you raid anything useful from normal people just trying to live and burn down anything you can't take with you. You peddle drugs to everyone you can after learning how to make them instead of making medicine like the Followers of the Apocalypse wanted you to. You even decided to join the Legion the moment someone invited you, the Khans are a lost cause.
As I make my way down the hill carrying the looted gear, I start to think of other things—like what day it is, and how long it would take to go the long way to New Vegas. Who I'd meet along the way, and how things would change based on these changes now made to the timeline. I don't even know if Ringo's here yet, I could check the gas station but I'm more likely to be shot than be able to talk to the guy if he is there. Every time I pick through these memories, they blur—places, times, whole chunks missing or overlapping. I remember loot, weapons, weirdly specific spots on a map, but nothing about the day-to-day slog from one town to the next. Just flashes of both lives, tangled together.
Especially Ulysses, all I get is his back and the hair. 'Is that how I move on to the next world—finish everything the game has to offer?' I think before noticing something. "Have I really only gone a few feet since I started thinking?" I say, baffled. Shaking off that realization I continue walking, and thinking. Ulysses, the insane fuckwit who decided to nuke everyone and say it's the right thing to do while giving some inane speech about how everything sucks and how HE will be the one to make things right. How HE will make things better since one man (me) could change everything for everyone. If I remember correctly, he was the reason the Legion even came to The Divide, he was the reason the battle of Hoover Dam even happened, he was the reason why the events of Honest Hearts happened, Hell he was at Big MT and the reason why the events of the Sierra Madre happened.
The reason why all of it happened? The White Legs that he deceived into thinking Caesar loved guns and would love to have them join the Legion if they just cut off Utah from the NCR, loot and pillage everything they can, and kill Joshua? They saw him as their mentor. They respected him so much that they started twisting their hair into the same style as his…HE GOT PISSED AT THEM MAKING HIM THEIR IDLE AND TAKING HIS HAIR STYLE! I stop, chest heaving. Glance back. Maybe thirty feet. God. I could've just rolled down the hill and made better time.
Again, I continue to move forward…and think. First was Honest Hearts, where he came to the Mojave, went to Wolfhorn Ranch, left for Big MT, met Christine and Elder Elijah, sent him to the Sierra Madre along with Christine after saving her, talked to the doctors in the Think Tank, said some overly poetic shit and got an entirely to cryptic answer from damn near broken down and insane mad scientists. All just to go back to where it all started so he could launch a fuck ton of nukes so he can reshape everything all at once. All so he can "Wake up America".
My mind jumps from Ulysses to every other disaster waiting for me to come across them because of him. I'll just go in the same order he went and start by helping out in Zion—put a stop to the White Legs. Hunt down Elijah before he ruins anybody else's life. Grab Christine, if only for Veronica's sake. And then there's Big MT. The place responsible for cazadores—Doctor Borous is going to rot for that.
As my thoughts come to an end, I come to the front gate of the man I wanted to meet. I know I said I wanted to get patched up, and from my thoughts and the amount of them, you might be wondering if I really need it…and the answer is yes, yes I do. I didn't say anything about it but I am in excruciating pain right now and I desperately need to lay down somewhere. Doc Mitchell is the only good person that will let me stay if I request it, no questions asked, and will help me without asking why I needed help beyond what caused the injuries in the first place. Everyone in Goodsprings is like that though, except what's his name, the armor guy. Fucking penny pinching asshole.
My thoughts finally end as I come to his door step, look back to see the moon, around 9 o'clock, turn back, raise my hand to knock, and—
* KTHUNK! *
Black out, falling against the door. My mind finally comes to a stop as everything stops being processed by my senses at 100%.
* Time skip — 12 hours later — 6:47 am *
I gasp, hard, thrusting up in bed. Thoughts racing again, analyzing everything and trying not to. I grab my head, almost feeling it throb against my palm. I could process everything, the sterile air in the space around me, the taste of my morning spit, the feeling of the clothes and bedsheet under me, the almost-audible sound of my neurons firing like an A-10 Warthogs gun in my mind. Then, suddenly—
* Skick *
I got stabbed, feeling something being injected into me. I almost jerked away in surprise and survival instinct before seeing who it was. Doc Mitchell, and his worried face a few inches from mind. I see in the peripheral of my vision the end of an injector. As that information was processed, I felt my thoughts slow. Enough so that I can think without having my brain feel like an oven filled with rocket fuel.
"Hey now, slow her down there, you were roughed up pretty bad. I don't want anything I did to be undone by a bit of a fright now. I'm sure you wouldn't want that either, right?" He said, in the same calming voice I remembered. As he did he held me just enough to make sure I didn't hurt myself by jolting around or getting up from bed. As I calmed I let him push me back into bed.
"Sorry, Doc, Just, got startled, is all," I apologized, before asking a rather important question. "Do…you know what's wrong with me?" As my question came out, he looked at me with an odd expression, like one would look at a child asking a question they should already know the answer to.
"Well," he began, "Your brain seems to have," he hesitates for a moment, looking for the proper words. "Changed a bit, you see, a normal person's brain is just how it should be: normal. You, my friend, are very much not normal. Not in a bad way, mind you—just enough to make it difficult to get around for a while. You see, your brain seems to have started growing and condensing rapidly last night, especially in the occipital and parietal lobes—the parts controlling perception, reflexes, snap decision-making. From what I saw, it's about five times the size it should be…but the rest of the brain is fighting it, probably thinking it's some foreign object or something. Though it stopped after a while moving into a sort of equilibrium…but you should rest for a while longer, try and let your brain settle down and acclimate a bit."
As his explanation came to an end, something clicked in my mind. It felt like two people that knew each other forever meeting again and just needing a second to finally realize who the other is. My head, it was throbbing still, but now…smooth, like an engine perfectly calibrated and just humming along. 'Was all of that really just because of dissociation? Maybe that bat and ball analogy was a lot more accurate than I'd like to admit…or is this just how VATS works for me?' As Doc Mitchell walks out of the room I decide to turn my thoughts inward, looking to see exactly what changed.
My thoughts begin racing again as I look around the room, calculations upon calculations of everything around me along with another cool realization…everything is moving slower too. Almost exactly like it would in VATS from Fallout 4, the slowed down time version. How can I tell? Because I can see the wings of the fly in front of me flapping up and down, up and down—
* Clap *
I crushed it between my hands, opening them up, I saw it splattered across both my palms. Before I could grin at the new found abilities I now have—
* Drip, drip *
Blood dropped onto my palms. Deciding then and there to take Doc Mitchell's advice and rest for a bit. When I decided on that I felt my brain fall back into a sort of stand by mode, still with fast thoughts, but not overwhelmingly so. Closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep, thoughts whirring to a crawl before stopping again.
* Time skip — 2 hours later — 8:52 am *
Waking up again, I noticed Doc Mitchell come into the room. Presumably to give me another check over and if found healthy, let me go. "So, Doc, am I gonna have to bend over and cough to get out of here or what?" I ask, causing both of us to grin.
"Thankfully not, though we should get you tested, to make sure all your dogs are still barking right." He says, offering me a hand up. I take it and stand, just a little wobble in my steps as I stand. "Come along then, just gotta make a quick stop at the Vigor Tester and see how everything held up." He states, walking across the room to the machine in question. The Vit–o–matic Vigor Tester, the machine that will tell me everything I need to know about myself.
"Just give that handle there a good grab and squeeze, then let the machine do the rest." He said, and I nod, doing as he said. Grabbing the handle and squeezing it, I watched as the little readers started to spin, bringing up my SPECIAL stats and the names that go along with them.
Strength: 7 Beach Bully
Perception: 10 Eagle with Telescope
Endurance: 7 Tough as nails
Charisma: 9 Casanova
Intelligence: 10 Omniscient
Agility: 7 Knife Edge
Luck: 10 Two Headed Coin Flip
As my scores came to an end, I stared, hard. Only when a few seconds passed did Doc Mitchell speak, "Well I'll be damned, looks like the changes really were nothin but good." He said, staring at my Perception and Intelligence stats. He pulled back and gestured for me to follow him into his living room. "Come on, we got a few more tests, then you can get on your way."
We walked in and he took a seat on a chair right across from a sofa, pointing a hand at it in a gesture of invitation. I sit, getting comfortable for the questions ahead. "Alright. I'm going to say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind." I nod and he begins.
"Dog."
"Cat." I say instantly…what? None of this is going to affect me so it's fine.
"House."
"...gone." I say, feeling my emotions bubble up. I cough and push it back down. "I'm sorry, I'm fine now." Doc Mitchell looks like he wants to say something but decides not to and nods, continuing.
"Night."
"Shroud." I say, feeling like it was right.
"Bandit."
"Head-shot."
"Light."
"Flash." As I answer, two things happen. I feel a twist in my gut, the memories of The Divide come slamming back to me. Then there's Doc Mitchell, he looks a bit hesitant to ask the next one…Mother…I know he's going to ask it and the twisting in my stomach tightens.
"Mother." And yeah, it hurts, an ache in my heart and a feeling like I got hit by a sledgehammer in the gut. My mind feels like a fishing line tangled up on itself and still trying to pull itself together. I felt my mouth move on its own.
"Regret— I'm sorry, that—" I tried to apologize but Doc Mitchell cut me off. He leapt forward and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me close.
"Hey, it's alright, it's alright. You don't have to apologize for feeling." He said, holding me close. Letting me sort through my emotions. I needed to anyways, they've been eating away at me since I landed here, I just couldn't address them until now.
* Time skip — 5 minutes later *
I finally came down from my flood of memories and emotions to find myself calmer than before, and oddly enough, my brain isn't hurting anymore. I can actually hear my own thoughts rather than grabbing one at random from the fast flowing river of them like before. As I pull myself together fully I breathe and say, "I'm ok now, just, a lot of bad memories…lets continue." He looks at me for a long moment, worry and understanding swirling in his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something again but drops it. Though I don't notice what happens next because of it.
Ding! Work through your emotions and memories as another person for the first time!
1x Silver Trait ticket acquired
"Alright then, let's go to the statements. I'll speak a sentence and you'll either strongly agree, agree, have no statement, disagree, or strongly disagree. Alright?" I nod as he squeezes my shoulders and moves back to sit down. "Now, let's start. Conflict just ain't in my nature."
"Disagree." I say, remembering not just the shoot out with the Khans, but also a few points where I should have talked with my mouth instead of my guns or fists doing it for me.
"I ain't given to relying on others for support". That one actually makes me think, if it was just Isaac, I'd strongly agree. But me as Isaac?
"Disagree." I say, not trusting myself to say that I strongly disagree and mean it.
"I'm always fixin to be the center of attention—"
"Strongly disagree." I say instantly, I hate being the center of attention. Though knowing my luck and everything I plan on doing, I'll be there anyways. He looks a bit surprised by how fast I said that but continues.
"I'm slow to embrace new ideas." This one made me think again. I like to think I'm a good person and know what and whose ideas to support…but I'm not too sure. The best faction is The Followers of the Apocalypse and they're actively being hindered by everyone around them. The NCR have good intentions but are riddled with corruption and incompetence. The Legion has structure without freedom. Mr House cares for no one but himself. The Brotherhood of Steel are assholes who think they have some right to take any technology they think is dangerous for themselves and prove it is by using it for horrible things. There are others, but most are either too small or just assholes…though, I'm probably thinking about this too hard.
"Disagree." I say finally. For small scale stuff, absolutely. But on the larger scale though, no, I'd fight any of them to make things better. As my thoughts finish, Doc Mitchell continues with the statements.
"I charge in to deal with my problems head on."
"Disagree." Honestly, I do sometimes, when emotions are high and when people are doing some egregious shit then yeah I'll charge headlong into it. But other than that? No. Doc Mitchell leans over the side of the chair and pulls up some paintings, Rorschach paintings.
"Almost done here. What do you say you have a look at these and tell me what you see?" Doc Mitchell said, gesturing to the paintings on the stand next to him.
"An angry two headed ant." I said, that not being the only thing I saw, but it being the first. He took the photo down and put up the next, seeing it I spoke the first thing I saw again. "A ship at sea." I could have said the second one I saw, but no, I'm not saying that one. He nodded, pulling it off and popping up the last.
"Here's the last one, what do you see–"
"Two bears highfiving." I said, laughing right after it. Doc Mitchell laughed along with me. I feel like he did because of how fast I said that and the fact that I said something odd out of nowhere.
"Alright now, why don't you have a look over what I wrote to see if I got it all right?" He asked after coming down from his laughter. I nodded, grabbing the clipboard he was using to write down the results. Everything looked right from what I remember of this life. I mean, it's a lot of medical jargon that would have confused me before getting High Specs, but it looked right.
"Everything seems in order, anything else." I question, handing him back the clipboard. He took it, grabbing a few more pages from the side and swapping them out.
"Yes, actually. All that's left is for you to give me any important medical history you and your family tree have–" He starts to say before wincing at the last part. He looks at me for any reaction, but none come. I already got through everything when Doc Mitchell helped me through it. High Specs is a lot of things, and efficient at sorting through traumatic events is apparently one of them.
"Got it Doc, I'll fill it out to the best of my ability." I said, grabbing the clipboard again. My father, Atom, was a good man, an honest man. He helped anyone who asked and expected nothing in return. Though no one tested his limits, considering he was the biggest man I've ever seen aside from super mutants and even then he'd give some of them a run for their money. My mother, Diana, was a small unassuming woman that, until I saw otherwise, was a normal person to me. She was kind, caring, and apparently one hell of a crack shot when she was younger. I don't just mean with guns, no she was good with anything that had to do with aiming. Mostly things you can throw, specifically knives. God, when I first saw her throw a butter knife past the heads of three wannabe thugs trying to take the money of someone outside our house was the last time I saw them. I watched as the same amount of hair from each fell from their heads, then I saw them realize the same thing I did. The last I saw of them was the trail of piss following the direction they ran in.
I finish my reminiscing on the past as my writing comes to an end. Placing the last period on the page I flip the clipboard around and hand it back. He looks over it…then double checks it…then triple checks. He looked like he wanted to call me a liar, but he looked back up at me and seemed to remember my SPECIAL scores. Now that I look back on it all, we're all kinda monsters in our own right. The super mutant sized himbo dad, the tiny sharpshooting mother, and me as luckiest guy to walk the wastes–now one of the smartest as well.
"Heh well, I guess I can see everything that made you you now. Well, that's all, she wrote. Now, if you'd just follow me one more time I can take you to where I kept all your stuff," He began, standing and gesturing for me to follow. "I also kept the stuff you grabbed from those that roughed you up last night so you can do what you want with them, sell them, give them away, use them for spare parts, whatever you want really. There was some other stuff too, I guessed that was yours." He continued, walking to a side room with extra medical supplies along with my stuff. He pointed to a rather sizable box in the back corner. As I walked to the box he spoke again.
"I'll let you change here, I have to grab and sort a few things before seeing you off." He spoke, walking off into another portion of the house. Turning back to the box I wondered what I'd find, considering I know I had more with me but not quite remembering what. As I opened it, a flash from both memories came to my mind: Courier's Stash and Gun Runners' Arsenal. The box had an entire side filled with the stuff from the Khans, the other was my stuff. I reached in and grabbed one of my favorite guns ever besides That Gun and the Hunting Shotgun, the Service Rifle…fuck off, there's a lot of them lying around and its a lot better than you think. Mine is modified with upgraded springs, a forged receiver, 7 extended magazines, a green colored reflex sight, a taped-on flashlight, and a combat knife bayonet that's currently in its sheath.
Next to it was a rather old 10mm pistol…a weathered one…anyways, it looked rather different to the one my memories of the game are like, though it is rather prevalent in my memories as Isaac. It looks like a Desert Eagle the size of a bulky m1911. It was my mothers, god, I remember watching her one hand mag dump the thing into a group of geckos before any of them got within 100 ft of us and made head-shot after head-shot. Below that, a pair of slightly over sized brass knuckles with a plate on the front of them saying 'Fuck!' and 'You!' on each respectively…they were dads. Remember when I said that no one tested his limits? There was a reason beyond him just being big, I watched him throw a person with a 'light shove' when he saw someone trying to press-gang a guy into an ally with him and his goons. Seeing them run in every direction after that was just awesome, then seeing him turn around and swap to the giant teddy bear I knew had so much tonal whiplash I nearly thought I hallucinated it all.
I look through the rest of the chest and find a lot of ammo for both my Service rifle and the pistol along with my backpack. It's a military backpack with a bedroll on the bottom of it in a full black color scheme. There's also the holster on my right leg and skeleton harness with a drop sling for my rifle so I can just drop it to pull my pistol or loot with both hands. A side mag holder for my Service Rifle magazines on the left and my 10mm magazines below them. My gas-mask with the hose and air tank and filters if I don't have air in the tank. Fusion batteries for the flashlight on my rifle and a separate flashlight for more convenient searching. The 'Fuck! You!' brass knuckles that I slipped into my front pockets. Looking further, I find a fully stocked medical bag—good for five uses—along with a repair and maintenance kit for my guns.
As I look over everything, I finally turn to my outfit, rugged and worn dark grey jeans, a slightly lighter grey t-shirt, a trench coat with a hood on it, dark leather finger-less gloves, and my black combat boots. Once I finished my inventory I glanced over—then did a double take, it was a mirror. I finally got a good look at myself…
"God, I'm a fuckin pretty boy." I say, looking at the delicate face staring back at me. Like I said, I had a very beautiful face, not handsome mind you. Pretty, like, I would believe I was a woman if my hair was longer and had no adamsapple. Though it's not half bad. My hair was as black as it could get, and my eyes were a rather vibrant green giving a rather odd contrast to my whole setup. That's probably why I wore the gas mask all the time, so that people would take me seriously. I mean, that thing along with the rest of the outfit makes for one hell of an intimidating sight…but without it, I look like a joke.
Shaking all of that away, I look down at the bottom of the chest again and find the most important Item I have in my possession, the Platinum Chip. I pick it up and place it into the box that came with the thing, putting that into my bedroll itself. Sorting everything on my person, I walk out of the side room and spot Doc Mitchell walking back to me, carrying a few things.
"All finished I see, well, here. Take these, they'll help keep you from needing my help services again if you know how to use them right," Doc Mitchell says, handing over three super–stimpaks, two splints, and a Pip-Boy 3000. "Not saying I don't want to see you again, but most of the time when people come through that door it's to get treatment." He continues, chuckling a bit as he says it. I was about to refuse but decided against it instead, knowing he'd insist on giving them to me anyways.
"Thanks, Doc. Say, I never did get your name?" I ask, realizing I never did learn it—just gotta make sure I don't say something I shouldn't know without a good excuse. He looked surprised for a second before laughing again.
"Haha, right, I almost forgot. On account of everything happening," He said, holding his hand out for me to shake it, before he responded, "Doctor Mitchell Hogan." He said, surprising me. I didn't think he had a last name.
"Isaac, no last name." I say, thinking back on why exactly but only finding blurry images in response, noting 'High Spec doesn't give me perfect memory it seems.' We let go of each other and he continues where he left off.
"By the way, use that Pip-Boy there to help you along the way, I don't rightly need it no more seeing as how I'm hold up in this old house here all the time. Figured it would be better for you to have it." He finishes, opening the door for me. "By the way, if you're looking for work, I'd go ask around the bar. Sunny Smiles will probably have some work for you to join her on."
"Thanks again, Doc Mitchell. I'll pay you back for everything, I promise." I say, remembering he never asked for me to pay him. He smiles and waves before closing the door. I turn to the town, seeing people working on crops that are a lot bigger than I remember, which should have been obvious now that I think about it. I glance around to see if I can find Victor, specifically at his shack. I found his shack right down the road past the school house down the road, just sitting there. The door is slightly ajar, swaying in the wind. I look at the ground in front of it and see a trail leading from the front door up to the cemetery and beyond before coming back down and onto the road where the trail ends.
"Whatever, so long as the thing isn't stalking me 24/7 I don't care." I mutter, starting to walk down to the bar, checking the caps I have on me I find I have exactly 728 caps on me from Benny and the Khans. As I walk I get a feeling like I'm starting on a journey I can't even see the end of despite practically knowing the whole thing.
[Chapter 2 End]
Quick A/N: This chapter was made with the premise of getting everyone to understand the character, what my basic plan for this story is like, and how some powers are going to interact with him for the time being. I feel like I over-explained too much in a few parts and I might actually go back and edit it when I look back after a while, but this is how it's going to be for now.
Remember this, not all of the pulls are going to be like High specs and give him a mini evolution the second he gets them, it was just bad luck to get two brain related perks on top of having a brain related mutation already. Remember this part as well, just because a roll is really good does NOT mean it's beneficial for him.
Another quick A/N: The AI said some fuck shit about basically rewriting the whole first half of the chapter, so I'm just posting it with the grammatical edits.
P.S. To the people that want this to be a Fallout only fic, I'm sorry but it won't be. Just take a look at the Chaos Gacha Entries and you'll know exactly why that is just from the first unfiltered page. Though I will try and keep him below building breaker levels.
P.P.S.(hehe pp) I'm going to just write these, edit with the AI's help, then post them, so when they come out is when I'm done editing because I do not trust myself to be responsible and time the releases correctly for the right days and times. I mean, the set times to post use military time and I am not going to have a reference sheet for every time I need to do that.
P.P.P.S. I made a Ko–Fi account where you can send tips too, I won't use it to hold shit over your heads or anything. I just made it so that if you like what I'm writing and want to show that beyond just power stones and chapter comments saying it, you can go there and send a dollar or two my way. (I kinda want someone to send a dollar and say "Here present, a shilling for your finest entertainment." or something, that'd be kinda funny.)
Anyways, enough of me yapping, if you made it this far and are still reading. Thank you for doing so, it means a lot to me to know someone actually read this far. I hope you, and even those that have left already, an incredible rest of your day/night.