Chapter Text
I am the dust.
Inhale.
I am the wind.
Exhale.
I am rain.
Inhale.
I am everything.
Exhale.
I am nothing.
Inhale.
I am the Reaper.
Exhale.
Squeeze, recoil, pink mist.
Cycle bolt, Inhale.
Find center mass, Exhale.
Squeeze, recoil, pink mist.
————
Muffled echoes faintly rolled across the barren landscape. 7.62mm rounds turning souls to dust and chest cavities to mince meat from 600 meters.
The small family that were bound and blindfolded prisoners of the former slavers, turned sacks of meat that lay in the dust around them, were desperately trying to undo their secure bindings; in a frantic attempt to escape whatever fate had befallen their captors.
Their struggles, accompanied by occasional whispered curses, were in vain— as their bonds held firm in the slowly fading light.
After what seemed like an eternity of struggling, without success, the man froze as he felt a pair of eyes upon his back; a bead of sweat tracing down his spine as he desperately thought about what to do next. He finally found his voice as he heard the crunch of large boots come closer; “Please don’t kill us!!” he yelped, turning towards the approaching footfalls while attempting to shield his wife and daughters from the unknown entity. “I will do anything you want! I will be your slave if you want, Just please don’t hurt my family!” As the words tumbled from his mouth, his eyes threatened to spill over with tears of desperation. He took a deep breath and began to plead again as the ominous footsteps only grew closer without a response.
“Please I’ll—“ his plead was abruptly cut off by a massive gloved hand that engulfed the lower half of his face, covering his mouth. A gravelly but kind voice spoke; “Quiet, you don’t have to worry, I am here to free you and your family.” In that moment it was like a boulder was lifted off of his shoulders, relief filled his chest and made him smile involuntarily under the gloved hand pressed against his face. The hand, smelling faintly of dirt and gun powder, was removed and before he could say anything he felt a tug on his restraints as they were cut from his hands. The blood flow finally returning to his hands as he massaged them slightly felt amazing. He felt the hilt of a large knife press into his palm followed by the gravelly voice with a command. “Take off your blindfold and release your family’s bindings.” the voice stated.
Without waiting for a response the apparently friendly, and still unknown, man moved towards where the bodies of the slavers were; most likely to loot what was useful.
The former captive removed his blindfold and began to remove the bindings from his wife and two daughters. After a few minutes of holding each other and quick tearful kisses with his wife; he helped them to their feet, turned, and began to walk towards where the figure of their savior was kneeling- silhouetted against the setting sun.
As the man stood from the body of the slaver, apparently not having found anything useful, and turned toward his approach— the former captive couldn't help but stop dead in his tracks. His eyes grew wide, his hands almost dropping the knife; standing before him— silhouetted against the setting sun— was a mountain of a man. He stood easily a foot above the former prisoner who, before had considered himself relatively tall. However the figure was not only tall but well muscled with broad set shoulders clad in a gray clothes that seemed almost tailor-made with a short cape like fabric hanging from his shoulders, going down just past his mid-chest embroidered along the edge with a black thread which formed into some kind of shape that the former captive couldn’t make out. The rest of his large figure was covered with flat black combat armor and holsters and sheathes with different sized knives and pistols adorning them over the top of the gray clothes. The most intimidating feature was the fact that a low profile hood was pulled over the man’s head— hiding any feature of the man’s face in shadow.
Realizing he was standing silently and awkwardly staring at his family’s emancipator as he pulled on his pack and held a long bolt action rifle adorned with a scope and a suppressor in one hand, he suddenly asked “Who are you?”
“People have taken to calling me by a many names… the most common one that you would know is the Lone Wanderer.” The large figure said it casually as he moved to take his knife back and slip it into a sheath on a strap going diagonally across the front his torso.
Now completely stunned, the former captive began to stammer out a question but was interrupted by the raised hand of the Wanderer followed shortly by his gravelly but calming voice; “Yes, I am The Lone Wanderer, and before you ask— yes, many things are true and many things are exaggerated, but right now we don’t have time to chat. The sun just set and that means we only have about 30 minutes of light left, because of the new moon tonight, and about an hour walk to the closest settlement. So what I need you to do; is to quickly gather what weapons, ammo, armor, and supplies you and your family want so I can escort you to safety for the night.”
Realizing the danger to his family was still present as long as they were out in the wasteland, the former captive quickly moved to his family, which was standing close behind equally stunned by the legendary figure that had emancipated them; They did as the Wanderer had instructed and after a few minutes the group was situated to move.
—————
They moved at a relatively easy pace so as not to tire out the recently freed family; They walked in silence until finally the recently freed man spoke up; “The name is John by the way, John Kinde (Pronounced: "Kind")— this is my wife Susan, my oldest Mary, and my youngest Renée.”
Although pressed for time, the Wanderer slowed his pace and slightly turned toward the family as John introduced them. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance Kinde family.” He said in a smooth and friendly tone
As he turned towards them the Kinde family noticed that beneath the hood the Wanderer wore a flat black, smooth, wooden mask; adorned with a slightly ominous and/or threatening face that was formed of two simple curved lines representing eyes and a smoothly curved smile for the mouth. Although slightly intimidated by the carved face the family was set at ease by the smooth and friendly voice originating behind the mask.
Seemingly voicing the thoughts of the older members of the family, Renée the youngest daughter bluntly blurted out, “Why do you where a mask Mr. Wanderer?” staring up at him with wide, honest, and curious eyes. The family looked between the young girl and the legendary figure walking with them caught between the impulses of: chastising the girl for asking a possibly too blunt question and the desire to hear the answer themselves—since it had been a question they had themselves but didn’t dare to ask, for fear of annoying one of the most deadly warriors of the wasteland; who also happened to be armed to the teeth.
After considering for a second, the Wanderer honestly answered, “When you have as many enemies as I do, its better if you can hide as much about yourself as possible… Sometimes it's just easier to deal with people… and sometimes its just fun to see people’s reactions.” during the last part of the answer his voice went from serious to a slightly jovial, friendly tone and he patted the girl gently on the head as she giggled at the thought of different people's reactions.
The other members of the Kinde family, at first unsure, were now smiling and chuckling warmly at both: the answer- realizing the last part being a slight joking tease at their varied reactions to the mask themselves, as well as the surprisingly warm and kind interaction between the young, innocent girl and the previously intimidating and seasoned warrior with an apparent soft spot for kids with wide honest eyes and blunt questions, giving off the feeling of something akin to an older brother speaking to his kid sister.
As they continued walking in comfortable silence, John asked a question that had slipped his mind earlier; “By the way, Mr. Wanderer, I have never been out this far into the wasteland so I don’t really know the area; what settlement are we headed towards?”
“Its a settlement called Megaton.”
—————
Once they finally made it to Megaton, the Wanderer found Sheriff Simms— who helped set up the Kinde family with a place to stay as well as supplies while they waited for the next caravan they could hitch a ride with back to rivet city, which they had been originally traveling towards before they were ambushed and captured. Before John followed his family into their temporary residence, he turned to the wanderer and stuck out his hand and shook the Wanderers considerably larger hand. “I can’t even begin to thank you for saving my family and I, should you ever happen to be in Rivet City— look us up, we can treat you to some good food and friendly company.” John said with a bright smile on his face.
“I might just take you up on that if I end up in that neck of the woods.” the Wanderer stated warmly.
With another smile and a little more small talk, John retired for the night to rest with his family after a long and stressful day.
Once they were alone Simms’ attitude turned slightly more serious as he turned back to the Wanderer. “So, any luck finding a lead on the remnants of the slave trade, big guy?”
The Wanderer felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards slightly under the mask, at the teasing nickname Simms had given him ever since he had come back to Megaton after he had received the augmentations that were responsible for his massive stature. “No, couldn’t find any evidence on the slavers of where they were taking the Kinde family to; they are probably being extra cautious after what I did at Paradise Falls.” ‘especially with what happened in the Pit’ the Wanderer thought darkly, ’not that I can tell Simms that, not sure he would approve…’
Simms spoke again, interrupting the Wanderer’s thoughts, “Well, thats too bad, I’ll keep my ear to the ground and let you know if I hear anything through the grapevine.”
“Thanks Simms, by the way, when is the next caravan due to come through town?” the Wanderer asked.
“Few days from now, why?” He responded.
“Just thought I might catch a ride along as an extra escort to make sure the Kinde family gets to Rivet City alright, they have been through enough to last a lifetime, and I have something to see to in the city that I think I have put off for long enough.” The Wanderer explained.
“Well that is gonna be the safest that caravan will ever have been with you tagging along, well I got your comms code, should I have any vital info to pass you. Now go get some sleep kid; I know you’re a legend who eats death-claws for breakfast and super mutants for brunch but you have been out for a week straight at least, tracking that slaver party.”
The Wanderer chuckled lightly, “Will do Simms, Goodnight.”
“Night, kid” Simms said smiling as he watched the young man he had seen grow from a boy into a warrior and from a warrior into a legend, as he made his way back to his house.
—————
The legendary Lone Wanderer spent the next half hour cleaning and preforming maintenance on his weapons and equipment to keep them ready for the next use. After he was done with maintenance and cooking himself a nice dinner he fell back into his bed, which although recently reinforced still creaked when his weight was abruptly put on it. He turned on his pip boy radio and listened as a breakup song about lost love came on, he groaned but listened anyway letting his thoughts drift off to the forest green eyes, tan skin, and cold words of the girl who broke his heart a little more than a year ago.