Fallout Time Killing One Shots

Story 1: Out on Patrol

The trooper threw his minigun down with a thud, as he dropped onto the ground next to it. The fall from the second floor of the hotel building wasnt very high, but in his salvaged power armor, he hit the ground like a boulder. He grunted a bit as he stood back up, hoisting his weapon with him. Following suit were 3 other, regularly outfitted, NCR troopers, 2 rangers, and one veteran ranger. His hydraulic pack on his back whirred to life, as he felt his joints stiffen a bit to aid in carrying the hefty firearm as he walked out of the crumbling structure.
Small hotels and trailer parks had been built all along the long 15, and almost every one of them contained some kind of old world souvenir. Now whether that souvenir had any value, was never predictable. Most times it was simply a photograph of someone ages past's loved ones. Other times, they'd find weapons, food, or maybe even some caps stashed away by a raider or scavver.
Either way, it wasnt their prerogative to loot. They'd been put together only two days prior, and told theyd be shipped out the next day. The group were practically strangers to eachother, but they shared a common goal. To serve the NCR the best that they could. They'd been sent on a reconnaissance mission deep into Nevada's rocky hills. The long 15 carved its path all the way from salt lake city to san diego through mountains, plains, and everything in between.
Most of the land between the larger cities remained untouched by the heat of thermonuclear war, so many of the troopers enjoyed the longer treks they sometimes had to take. This one was no different. They were about fifty miles south of mesquite when they stopped the night before, parking their small, destroyed pick up truck behind the building. Private lacey was the only one in their small squad that knew the first thing about trucks or engines, but he managed to keep that old hunk of junk running. Although it rarely broke 15 miles an hour, it kept the men off their feet, and for that they were grateful. The roads were filled with potholes and overgrown weeds, so travel by vehicle was tedious but still possible, as gasoline fueled vehicles became obsolete long before the bombs scorched the earth.
As the troopers piled into the cab of the truck, Sergeant lancaster climbed into the bed of the truck, heaving his minigun against the back of the cab. After it found its place he reached behind him to help lieutenant Riley into the back as well. The ranger gripped tightly to Lancaster's glove as he drug him up, before taking a seat on one of the wheel wells. Private Lacey fiddled with the engine a bit, as corporal McGill finally broke the silence. "So, you think there are any legion boys stationed out near mesquite?" Her thick irish accent slashed through the air like a cleaver through flesh.
"Im sure of it, they've got men all over these hills. Especially since we ran them out of their fort. Last i heard Ceasar posted himself up a few miles south of new canaan. Wonder how graham feels about that." Lancaster replied, his voice synthesized by his helmet. Riley spoke up next as he took off his brimmed hat, and set it beside him on the truck.
"Oh i bet hes pissed. Especially after the courier helped get trade flowing again for them. I couldn't imagine the rage flowing through that man after everything ceasar's done." There was a silent nod of agreement from the veteran Ranger, before McGill looked over at him.
"And what about you, oh great and silent one?" She said with a slight chuckle to her voice. The ranger looked away from her, making it known he had no intention to speak. McGill pouted slightly, defeated as she slunk back into her seat. Her and the trooper beside her, Private johnson, began speaking to eachother about lord only knows what. The two were inseparable. Lancaster glanced over his shoulder, looking over to private Lacey.
"C'mon kid, you gonna get that thing runnin or not? We sit around here too long we're gonna start drawin eyes." He remarked. Private Lacey mumbled to himself slightly before slamming the trucks hood down, and climbing into the driver's seat. As he turned over the engine, it roared to life. A look of determination and pride quickly became prominent on the young privates face. Lancaster smiled a bit, his helmet hiding the expression from private Lacey. The veteran ranger quickly joined the two men in the bed of the truck, sitting with one leg hanging from the tailgate.

As Lacey backed the truck from the decrepit parking lot, he clicked the radio on, and the soothing voice of Mr. New Vegas filled the cab. McGill opened the center window of the cab a bit wider, as to give the others better listening quality. As the six NCR soldiers made their way up the long 15, they chatted back and forth. Lieutenant Riley was polishing his Sequoia revolver, before Lancaster's voice came forth from his salvaged T-45 helmet. "So, lieutenant, what part of california are you from?" Riley looked up at Lancaster, as he was slightly taller than the rest of the squad.
"Originally im from San Francisco, but i was raised outside the city on a farm until i was sixteen. My parents were killed when i was really young by some wanna be raider punk, and the NCR is all ive ever really known." He explained calmly. "Been a Ranger for almost fifteen years now."
Lancaster nodded at him, before motioning to the Veteran Ranger on the back of the truck. "Any idea about him? Does he talk, like, at all?" He asked. Riley glanced at the veteran, before looking back at Lancaster.
"Couldn't say. Ive only known him as long as I've known you. And i can't say thats awfully long." He stated with a slight chuckle, before holstering his revolver, and reaching up to stroke his moustache. The veteran ranger shook his head, before looking off into the distance behind the truck. McGill was the next to speak.
"I've never trusted a man who didnt speak." She said somewhat sternly, her accent again prominently displayed.
"Where are you from anyway, if you dont mind my askin. Your accent is real heavy." Riley asked politely, his own slight southern draw showing in his words.
"Well, im from way out east. My family's lived out in the Capital wasteland for a long time now. Before that, they lived on some island across the sea, but ive never been." She replied with a smile, her red hair hanging loosely onto her shoulders.
"So, if i may, how did you and Mr. Johnson here meet? Ive noticed he doesnt share your accent, but you two seem to be close." Riley asked, to which Private johnson replied.
"My family took her in when she came west. She didnt have anyone out this way, so when she came calling my family took her right in. And then last year when she decided to join up with the NCR, well, i couldnt just let my sister do it alone." Lancaster chuckled a bit.
"My brother, a guy named Boris Lancaster, is a trooper stationed out at hoover dam. He's been working security detail out there since before the second battle. I couldnt begin to tell you how jealous i was when he got to work with the courier defending president kymball from those legion assassins." He boasted on his brothers behalf. "But I got one up on him when i finally got my salvaged power armor. I can only imagine his face when he got my letter."
Private Lacey perked up a bit after hearing about the sergeant's brother. "Hey wait, you're Boris' brother? Me and him were stationed together for a week or so on the west side of the dam. It was my first station after basic. He's a helluva guy, and i mean that." He said looking in his rear view mirror at Lancaster. The cold visor of the T-45 helmet glared back at him, but when he spoke it didn't share the same intimidation at all.
"I miss him, it's been too long." His voice faded out at the end of the sentence. It was quiet for a while after that. The three troopers in their tan fatigues continued to sit quietly, listening to the music cast through the radio for several more hours.

Lancaster dozed off for a while, leaned against the cab of the truck. His dreams were of home, and his brother, happily introducing him to his new wife, and their smiling children. His dream was cut short by a loud bang that shook him awake. He quickly jumped to his feet, before he realized the truck was already at a dead halt. Smoke was billowing from the hood, as private Lacey lept from the driver seat and rushed to the front of the truck. He ripped the hood upward, forcing it open. Smoke billowed out, covering lacey from his waist up in smoke and dust. He coughed and waved his hands in front of him a bit, hoping to clear some of the smoke. He looked around the engine block of the truck for several minutes before he returned to the cab with grave news.
"It's dead." He coldly stated to the rest of the squad. There was a collective groan, as lieutenant Riley spoke.
"Alright everybody, guess we're hoofin it." He sounded just as disgruntled as everyone else. Everyone except the veteran of course, who didnt speak a word. Carrying only their weapons and what would fit in their packs, they continued along the 15 toward mesquite. After an hour or so, the Veteran looked back at lieutenant Riley, before speaking a single sentence.
"Im going ahead." He stamped, his voice also being spoken through a helmets synthesizer. Although, the veteran ranger helmets had much better audio receptors. Riley nodded at him, and within moments the veteran had gone so far ahead nobody could see him.
Hours went by, and the sun had barely begun to sink over the horizon before corporal McGill spoke up. "Maybe we should make our camp here for tonight." She suggested as she pointed toward a small rock outcropping along the road. "We'd have cover on all sides but one. And we could take turns on watch."
"Alright, let's head over there." Riley replied. The 5 troops still clustered together quickly built their small camp, consisting of 2 medium sized tents, and a camp fire positioned beneath the outcropping to block the smoke from rising so high. Riley took first watch into the night, remaining at his post until roughly one am. He made his way to the tent that Lancaster had been sleeping in, before he leaned down to gently nudge the seargents arm. Lancaster jumped a bit as Riley touched him, and he sat upright incredibly quickly. His eyed instinctively shot toward his helmet and torso pieces of his armor that he'd removed before he laid down. "Do you mind taking watch?" Riley asked him quietly, as to not wake McGill, who was only a sleeping bag away.
Lancaster nodded stubbornly before he rose from the ground. Putting on his armor, he made his way to the rock that Riley had posted himself on for the last several hours. He placed his minigun on the ground beside him, and holstered his 9mm pistol inside his leg plate, which gave him just enough space to strap a holster beneath it. He sighed a bit, looking out over the empty, dark desert.