[url=https://fontmeme.com/fallout-font/][/url[/url]]


We open looking at a Cryo-Pod, somewhere deep in Vault 98. Erik Holland “stands”, in suspended animation, eyes filmed over with the cryostasis solution, his face mask feeding him a steady diet of bio-medical gel. Curiously, his Pod is set apart from the rest of the areas where one would typically see rows and rows of CryoPods, and there seem to be a few TOO many “DANGER” and “DO NOT APPROACH” signs..


[url=https://fontmeme.com/fallout-font/][/url[/url]]


The door of the Cryo-Pod clicks, after the green LED terminal next to it kicks to life and begins to display vital signs that are absolutely on the move. Smoke pours from the now opening Cryopod as Erik tumbles out, onto all fours, the hulking Human gripping the plasteel floor before standing up to his feet, the Vault 98 Jumpsuit holding on by a thread as he flexes his aching shoulders and hands. The whirring of a robot’s treads are the next thing we hear, but not Holland, all he hears is just a low whine. One that’s making him angry. One that is putting him into a state of intensity like he just hit three Jet all at once.


”Sir! I believe your Cryo-Pod opened a tad early--”


Erik, standing to his full six feet six height turns his maddened eyes on–oh, just a Robobrain. No ENEMIES. The red smoke in his eyes lifts some, as he calms himself enough to address the ‘Brain everybody in 98 knows as ROBBIE.


Robbie? The fuck? I don’t think i was ‘sposed to wake up for another…what happened? 


Erik scratches the back of his head, slowly approaching the Cryopod that has a yellow, blaring searchlight above it. Robbie wheels around to his right, his lights popping up and blinking.


Reactor’s been compromised, i fear. The Overseer has absconded[/b[ to the surface to locate a suitable replacement. Some other kerfuffle may be afoot but I’ve yet to compile any relevant dat–Sir? Mr. Holland? WHERE are you going?


The beast-like Holland tears past the Robobrain, grabbing bits and bobs of leather that, with a couple of hours of careful fashioning were boiled and worked into suitable–if temporary–leather armor, that is now protecting his chest and right arm. All he could think about was his fellow Vault-dwellers and how, even though he couldn’t find any of them, he had to make sure they were all okay.


And, he resolved with a smile as he threw the switch that is starting the heavy Vault door to open, whoever woke me up is gonna’ get their fuckin’ eyeballs fed to ‘em.


It’s all the way open now, and Holland picks up a pair of heavy miner’s gloves, slipping them over his fists. Flexing his hands inside the metal reinforced gloves, he continued on up the stairs, shielding his eyes as he steps up onto the surface of the Wasteland. He screws up his face as he opens up his Pip-Boy, tapping amateurishly trying to locate the map.


Fuck it.. I’ll find ‘em.


Erik mutters to himself, flexing his fists agai[size=1]n as he starts to walk, checking his pack as he does so. Rations and water, thankfully the water was treated. Good enough for him.

[/size]