... and I've been playing Fallout: New Vegas. After finishing Dead Money (OK I guess I shouldn't have gone in as a level 4 that was hard as fuck on hardcore) this idea randomly came into my head so today in my boredom I decided to write it up.
It's taken a lot of inspiration from fallout as you can probably see, It's a post-apoc story of a 19 year old called Carl who's learned to survive the hard way. He's had to do terrible things to stay alive and because of his past he regards humanity with callousness and as you'll see here he won't interact with humanity unless he is threatened or it's to further his own chances of survival. I'm not expecting fantastic review as it's just half and hours work off the top of my head which I thought would be fun to share with you guys. Please tell me what you think.
Anyway here goes
It's taken a lot of inspiration from fallout as you can probably see, It's a post-apoc story of a 19 year old called Carl who's learned to survive the hard way. He's had to do terrible things to stay alive and because of his past he regards humanity with callousness and as you'll see here he won't interact with humanity unless he is threatened or it's to further his own chances of survival. I'm not expecting fantastic review as it's just half and hours work off the top of my head which I thought would be fun to share with you guys. Please tell me what you think.
Anyway here goes
The boy couldn?t have been more than fifteen, slouched against the wall of a house, sunken eyes gleaming in the dark. It reminded Carl of himself, how he found himself to be sat in this apartment block watching the boy die from a hole in the wall. Carl took a heavy drag from a cigar before flicking the last of it into the street below. The boy?s gaze slowly drifted upwards, searching for the source of the cigar end but Carl was almost invisible in the night and soon the boy?s gaze dropped back down. There was a reason Carl had survived starvation, disease, gunshot wounds and exposure. He had used his brain. He had been in the boy?s situation and he had pulled himself out of it. For starters he didn?t wait to die under a flickering streetlight; clearly the boy had no sense of survival whatsoever. He was doomed.
A commotion broke the night?s silence. Voices, barks, Carl thought of his mother for a split second before his sniper rifle found its way into his hands. Still sitting on his deckchair, he scanned up and down the street for the location of these voices. A dog sprinted into view from up the street, torches shone through the gloom behind it. Carl looked back to the boy who was desperately crawling away from the dog; a bloody trail smeared the wall behind him. The dog noticed the boy and in three bounds he had crossed the distance and pinned the boy to the floor. Another two dogs burst out of the gloom. Dogs, that?s how his mother had died. The torch carriers came into view now. A balding man, shotgun in his left hand led two younger men, both of which seemed to be unarmed. They shouted in triumph to each other and ran over to their catch.
Just before the old man?s shotgun finished off the boy, a volley of shots rebounded down the street. The dogs whimpered in surprise as their masters were torn into by invisible marksmen before they too were destroyed the lead storm. Carl thought that his night had just got interesting as five hooded men stepped out of various shadows further down the street from the boy. They worked quickly and methodically to bandage the boy?s wounds and then two of them carried him off into the night as the others covered their exit.
Carl snorted at the injustice of it all. When he was that age he fended off scavengers with his knife and his quick wits. He?d been close to death more times than he was comfortable admitting but he had never got some mysterious strangers acting like his guardian angels, no sir he had to survive by himself, not a friendly face to lend him a helping hand but this boy gets a free ticket out of hell. Now where was the fairness in that?
A commotion broke the night?s silence. Voices, barks, Carl thought of his mother for a split second before his sniper rifle found its way into his hands. Still sitting on his deckchair, he scanned up and down the street for the location of these voices. A dog sprinted into view from up the street, torches shone through the gloom behind it. Carl looked back to the boy who was desperately crawling away from the dog; a bloody trail smeared the wall behind him. The dog noticed the boy and in three bounds he had crossed the distance and pinned the boy to the floor. Another two dogs burst out of the gloom. Dogs, that?s how his mother had died. The torch carriers came into view now. A balding man, shotgun in his left hand led two younger men, both of which seemed to be unarmed. They shouted in triumph to each other and ran over to their catch.
Just before the old man?s shotgun finished off the boy, a volley of shots rebounded down the street. The dogs whimpered in surprise as their masters were torn into by invisible marksmen before they too were destroyed the lead storm. Carl thought that his night had just got interesting as five hooded men stepped out of various shadows further down the street from the boy. They worked quickly and methodically to bandage the boy?s wounds and then two of them carried him off into the night as the others covered their exit.
Carl snorted at the injustice of it all. When he was that age he fended off scavengers with his knife and his quick wits. He?d been close to death more times than he was comfortable admitting but he had never got some mysterious strangers acting like his guardian angels, no sir he had to survive by himself, not a friendly face to lend him a helping hand but this boy gets a free ticket out of hell. Now where was the fairness in that?
