Protectron #2 – DREAM INTERRUPTED (A Fallout Fan Fiction)
A Fallout Fan Story By Marcus Liotta
FOREWORD This story is a fan fiction imagining of one possible story from the Fallout Universe by Bethesda Software, a collection of Books, Games, and other media (including Fallout 1, 2, 3, Tactics, New Vegas, 4, Shelter, and 76.) This story is in no way relates to existing characters, nor is it assumed to be part of the lore of the original aforementioned media. This is a fan story from the mind of Marcus Liotta.
All writing Copyright (C) Marcus Liotta 2022.
-Marcus Liotta
Release Details
The story will be published as a series, weekly for each chapter. Follow the site/blog to catch up as it is distributed. Each post will be titled “Protectron # – Chapter” for your convenience in search.
HOME – Published on the site 10/22/2023
DREAM INTERRUPTED – Publishing on the site 10/26/2023
NEW BEGINNINGS – Publishing on the site 11/02/2023
ALIVE – Publishing on the site 11/09/2023
TRUTH – Publishing on the site 11/16/2023
PROTECTRON
A Short Story by Marcus Liotta
DREAM INTERRUPTED
Darwin’s head kept spinning while he came to, opening eyes to a blinking red light.
His body was lain at an angle, back to a hard surface that had some sort of fabric on it but also cold metal underneath.
The room was chilly as a cold winter’s eve, and of what he could see, it was nigh impossible to determine where he was.
His eyes took time to adjust.
The room was dark, periodically illuminated with a bright red light which circled every so often, similar to a police car’s light.
The more he came to, blinking to clear foggy vision, the more he became agitated by his new surroundings.
It was hard to tell but, in the murky darkness he seemed to be in some sort of medical room, maybe the surgery center. Already he didn’t like that concept.
There was that high pitched sound.
The noise blared inescapably as if a morning alarm left on by some sort of demented psychopath.
Still, given Darwin’s military background he immediately recognized that a blaring siren meant something had clearly gone terribly wrong.
And yet, the only question in his mind was not “what had gone wrong,” but rather, “what else could go wrong?”
Darwin pushed himself up into a sitting position and realized the motion wasn’t working for him.
He frowned.
Head to Toe he felt numbed, the type of way you feel coming to after a medical procedure. His mind faced a disorientation as well, turned around inside by what was likely an anesthesia.
Darwin felt unwell.
Bending to look down at his own body was difficult, he was stuck in restraints and the very attempt made his right arm seize in pain.
Through clenched teeth, he slowly bent to his right side and with a craned-neck peered down. He was forced to hold the position for a short moment until the churning siren’s light soaked his form in the red glow once again.
When it did, he found himself horrified.
What he saw drove him to the edge of madness.
“What is this?” Darwin whispered.
His arms and legs were clamped down to the metal table at his back, although the thing was vertical, at a slight angle so he essentially stood upright but in an awkward manner that seemed more of what one might use for experimentation than for someone who might be sick in the head. His clothing appeared to be a drab and dark purple, hard to tell but it could also be blue. He wore a jumpsuit, no flair to it at all. Hard to tell the exact color under red light.
The light shone upon Darwin’s form three more times before he could fully grasp what had happened.
His right hand, his good hand, it was burned up, fingers mangled and try as he might, he could not will them to move.
Three of his fingers were missing altogether, mere cauterized stumps remained. Dried blood ran across his hand, and the two remaining fingers, his index finger and thumb.
Those two survived but were burned black and beyond recognition. They were no different than the palm of his right hand, a terrifying vision that he had trouble taking in.
It looked like a laser chewed through them.
When he craned his neck ever farther, he could see a jagged hole in the metal where his fingers used to be, meaning, whatever happened to his fingers happened where he was now.
Darwin slowed his breathing.
He needed to focus.
The damage was recent, which explained the pain he underwent. It also explained that bizarre dream.
Strapped down in a cold dark room however made little sense.
His last memory was of…
Talking to that odd man in the vault.
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