the story in which Alex Seattle Geer is right for hating enclosed spaces,

[doubletap]

and Neil Park is blamed for his knowledge of vaults.

---

Terminal Entries:

1st Floor, Vault Entry-Room Computer:
- Data Entry 1: Year 20XX, Month XX; There's no escape.
- Holotape Entry 1: Y#4@ SDhig^8705 H98 [data corrupted]; This is hell and I want out of it.

1st Floor, Cafeteria Luncheon:
- Holotape Entry 2: Private Recording; I've had better?

1st Floor, Cafeteria Supply Room:
- Inventory List: Inventory List; A list of food....
- Data Entry 2: Shift Notes; Maybe I should tear the walls down.

1st Floor, Broken Cave:
- Data Entry 3: Preparations; Everything's fine.
- Data Entry 4: Near the End; I'll tell you the truth, but I won't give up my soul.
- Data Entry 5: Finally, the End is at Hand.; This is far enough.

1st Floor, Office:
- Data Entry 6: Vault-Wide Public Service Announcement; Get back to work everyone.
- Data Entry 7: Locked Administrative Reply; You're reaching for straws.

1st Floor, Administrative Secretary's Office:
- Data Entry 8: Drama Hoes; It is sort of funny that people aren't able to lie, though.
- Holotape Entry 3: Bill Self-Log; Byron's access still works everywhere.

Comments

[goodfight]

[The insects die with little fuss, which cannot be said of the Courier.

Neil lowers his weapon long enough to raise an eyebrow at the other.]

Obviously. You're calling me by name.

[Which happens at irregular intervals, usually when one is very much conveying gravity, not inappropriate humor.

Neil looks to the fallen cazadores, wondering if their meat is worth taking.]

I gave you the choice of-- [Not coming is a bad phrase. He opts for another.] --staying out, you know.

[doubletap]

[ Sense is there, just out of reach. Neil adds to its strength by adding truths. And anyway--

Anyway, there's no reason to be upset, not like this. The last times he was close to like this was at that picnic outside in the Capital Wasteland, and then when Neil came back from his boat ride. And hell if this is anything close to that.

He presses a hand to his face, takes three long steps to Neil to wrap a hand in his clothes and tug him forward, moving to kiss him hard. ]

[goodfight]

[One surprise adds another, and Neil falls to it as he always does. He allows the aggressive closing of distance with no resistance, blinking through the kiss as if to make sense of it.

Then he forcefully pulls back, his expression betraying a kind of frantic concern.]

What the hell is wrong, old man!?

[With you, is something he does not even think to say.]

[doubletap]

[ He blinks at the question, and as he wouldn't otherwise, answers. ]

This is reminding me of a few places. Vault 22 and 34. The Sierra Madre.

[ Here, Alex Seattle Geer visibly represses a shudder. ]

Vault 11.

[goodfight]

[Wait.]

Wait.

[22 and 34 he has been informed of, but--]

You've been to the Sierra Madre? The Sierra Madre?

[That mystical stuff of legends or crap.]

[doubletap]

[ Alex takes a half-step back, giving space between them. He exhales, something wary brushing over his expression. ]

Yeah. Against my will. I was kidnapped there.

[goodfight]

Jesus.

[Neil wasn't so naive to think that gold had happened upon Alex's doorsteps, but the story surrounding the Sierra Madre sounded so fantastic that he didn't really consider the direct involvement.

With some separation, Neil takes the opportunity to collect his thoughts. Alex had mentioned another place, hadn't he?]

And Vault 11?

[doubletap]

[ He swallows, for a moment wondering why he's so willing to share it all.

The next moment, the query passes. Alex rubs at a temple tiredly. ]

A vault with a voting system in place for the next overseer. Who is voted in only to be a sacrifice. A lot of people died for nothing because of that vault. Every year there had to be someone who died or everyone did.

[ He raises his eyes with a exhausted expression. ]

Except it was a lie, of course. The moment they would have chosen to stop it, the vault would have opened. The last five found out and took their own lives. And I--

[ Something complicated passes behind his eyes. Sarcasm adds itself thickly. ]

I got to experience that death chamber for myself. One sentry bot, two Protectrons, a robobrain and eight turrets. And a lesson on self-preservation against morality. Fucking bastards.

[goodfight]

[He takes in the details of Vault 11 with something like wonder, a part of him surprised at the more blatantly social aspect of the experimentation encountered.

At the mention of the death chamber, the concern reaches the surface, penetrating his thoughts. Weirded out but not deterred, Neil carries on.]

Sometimes, old man, I wonder if you might have the edge up on me in regard to trauma.

[And here is the confirmation. Neil reaches out with his free hand to touch the other's shoulder.]

You sure you want to continue?

[doubletap]

[ At the touch, Alex rests a hand on Neil's hip. ]

I've probably experienced as much as you, if not more, kid. Don't treat me like I'm delicate now. I'm not leaving you alone. I belong at your side.

[goodfight]

[...Well.

The combination of touch, affection, and sappy words and feelings increase the odd emotion moving in Neil's chest. It is surreal. And unfamiliar. And--]

W-Well. Good.

[Severely creeped out, he hesitatingly removes and takes back his hand.]

I, um. I'm...glad. Yes.

[doubletap]

[ Alex snorts at the obvious embarrassment and ruffles Neil's hair. Then turns to the room. ]

Either way, we're here now. Let's see if there's anything of use in this rubble.

[goodfight]

[Creeped out escalates to disturbed. He has never admitted to such things. He would rather die than admit such things. And yet--

When Alex is distracted by the setting, Neil turns around to step toward a nearby set of booths, mouthing a "what the hell," to an invisible audience.]

[doubletap]

[ He starts rummaging, passes over radiated food and junk stock. He has enough stimpaks to survive for a couple of weeks so he's not that desperate. There's nothing else useful, not even ammunition. He's about ready to call to move on, when he notices the black and white familiar pattern half-hidden under a booth.

He remembers the Big MT, and tries to forget. Tries not to think of Moebius and Ulyssess and Christine.

He snags the holotape and pops it in to his Pimp-Boy. ]

Hey, found something.

[goodfight]

[When he's collected himself enough to sort through the first set of debris, Alex calls. Carrying away a box of Sugar Bombs, he wanders over to the older man.

At the sight of the gaudy device, Neil sniffs in disgust before eagerly opening the Sugar Bombs box.]

[doubletap]

You know it's sexy.

[ Alex replies to the disgust with a grin. ]

[goodfight]

If you like to stab your eyes.

[Says Neil with a mouthful of Sugar Bombs.]

[doubletap]

[ Alex frowns in a way that could almost be called a pout. ]

It is fucking awful on sunny days when I look at it....

[ --Sob, Pimp-Boy. Anyway, time to play that tape. ]

[simpleagain]

The tape crackles once, then is perfectly clear. There's a harsh groan that's likely familiar in context, then a sigh. A man speaks.

"Mmm, baby."

A woman, a rich alto, chuckles breathlessly.

"That was new... I guess the added excitement makes it more--"

"Risky?"

He laughs; she giggles. She keeps talking.

"I guess recording things aren't that bad.... And if you're the only one who will listen later--"

"No one else would want to listen to that, don't worry."

The woman laughs awkwardly, unsure of the joke, but keeps going light-heartedly.

"Well... Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

"Nah. I've had better--"

"What."

There's a crash, and the sound of a door slamming shut. The guy voices incredulously.

"...I've had better?"

[goodfight]

[The contents of the tape make itself known in clear and precise images in Neil's mind. Normally, he would have lost his appetite, but the ending changes that entirely.

Instead, he swallows a mouthful of cereal and scoffs.]

Ouch, haha.

[What was that guy thinking, giving the blatant truth? Only someone as callous as Neil would dare such an act at the woman's expense. Though, upon consideration, the male sounded surprised by his own answer.

That strikes Neil as odd.]

[doubletap]

[ Hetero-sex is mainly repulsive, and Alex finds nothing useful in the recording. He makes a face at it being logged into his Pimp-Boy now ("Private Recording," indeed), and drops his arm to the side.

He sighs. ]

I don't think there's anything else in this room.

[goodfight]

[The oddity soon leaves Neil's mind, and he looks around to see if there is anything else of interest.

Beyond the counter, there is an opening. He nods toward it.]

That's probably the kitchen.

[Hopefully with more substance than the dining area. Neil drops the box and heads toward the opening, dusting the crumbs off from his fingers with his pant leg.]