"Where are my wife and son, you Communist BASTARD!"
The scream came with a sudden jolt—a man tackled me from behind, locking a shaky chokehold around my neck. His grip was weak but desperate, clawing toward my .44 service revolver. My instincts kicked in as I pried his hands back, my mind flashing with one singular thought:
How the hell did I get into this situation?
Let's rewind—just a few minutes earlier.
—
When the Vault-Tec elevator finished its descent, the massive gear-shaped door of Vault 111 began its slow unsealing process. Steam hissed, locks groaned, and the interior flickered to life for the first time in over 200 years.
Team 404 was already in position, weapons raised.
As the door rolled open, we were met not with resistance, but infestation. Insects and rodents fought each other over scraps—until they noticed us. They surged, and they died just as quickly in a storm of precise gunfire from the Dolls.
At the entry chamber, 416 stepped forward and pointed toward two branching corridors. "Commander, two paths. Orders?"
"Hmm…" I tapped my glowing orange SHD wristwatch. "ISAC, Echo-map the Vault."
My watch projected a 3D layout of the facility, reconstructed in real time. ISAC's voice chimed in:"Object of interest located—Overseer's office, left path."
But my eye caught something else on the projection—a large chamber filled with cryopods. One pod, in particular, flagged as open.
"I want that data," I said, pointing. "416, G11—you're on the left. Clear the Overseer's room and extract anything you can from the terminals. UMP sisters, with me. Something strange is going on at the far end."
We split. Rifle fire echoed behind us almost immediately. Nothing hostile yet—just more bugs and rats. I winced slightly as I heard G11 shriek mid-gunfire, likely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of pests.
She's going to need double the candy and nap time after this one.
UMP9 tapped my shoulder and pointed through a frost-covered observation window. "Ooh, boss~ Look at all those pods. People inside… It's freezing in here."
UMP45 peered in closer, squinting. "What is this? Some kind of human meat locker?"
Before I could answer, 416's voice came through on comms:"Commander, Overseer's office secure. G11's passed out—bug overload. I've placed her in the bedroom to recover."
"Copy that," I replied as we approached the cryo wing's terminal. "Any data on the vault's purpose? These pods look like they were meant for long-term stasis."
"Affirmative," 416 said. "Vault 111 was designed for 180 days of cryogenic suspension, after which the residents would be revived. But something went wrong—records mention a mutiny. System failure followed."
I stopped in front of a pod marked C3, its terminal still active. I accessed it, scrolling through logs.
Most of the entries read the same:
Occupant Status: Deceased.Cause of Death: Asphyxiation—Cryogenic Support Failure.
One after another—dead. All of them, except two:
Pod C6: Status—Unknown.Pod C7: Door Override Engaged / Remote Override Detected.
I moved to Pod C7. Its door was ajar. Inside: dry blood smeared along the interior. Empty. Long empty.
I leaned in. "ISAC, Echo-scan this chamber."
A faint pulse of digital light swept the room as I stared into the ghost of a story long buried—and then I heard the voice.
"Where's my wife and son, you COMMUNIST BASTARD!"