CAST & VOICE TALENT

• GUEST: Jordan Reynolds ~ Reuben Gill
• GUEST: Jake Green ~ ZAX 1.3c
• GUEST: TYR ~ Aeternus
• GUEST: Ferret Baudoin ~ The Archivist
• Alexander Luthor ~ Chad Johnson, Bear, Free Radical #1
• Kenneth Vigue ~ Narrator
• Sean Baptiste ~ Brooks Calvert
• Lady Devann ~ Atomic Alice
• Tooniversal ~ Damon Toon
• t0nik ~ Crane
• Jessica Duval ~ Susie, Tiffany
• Clint Winberry ~ Moose Miller, Dogbreath, Guard #1
• Christian Mower ~ Punch, Mr. Handy, Mr. Clark
• Fenwa Teryen ~ Charles Bishop, Guard #2
• Jessica Marie Dickey ~ Patsy Parker
• Dr. Mark Hauswirth ~ Abraham, Baldrick (Handy to the Archivist)
• Kevin Chenard ~ Fletcher
• Robert Solomon ~ Razorhandle (Raider), Free Radical #2
• Robyn Meif ~ Roper (Free Radicals Leader)
• Ray Middelthon ~ Commander Johns,
• Lucy Middelthon ~ Old Lady Simpson
• Elder Memes ~ Beckett
• Jorian Koeten ~ Insult Bot
• Christopher J. Morrow ~ Fritz

 

MEDIA: COLD OPENING DIALOGUE MUSIC

KEN:                      This is Kenneth Vigue and we’re back with one of our most ambitious episodes this season. First, I w ant to tell you a story. Long ago when the Earth younger than it is now and yet still so very old, there sat in a cave beyond time and space three sisters so wizened with age you’d think you were gazing at the face of ocean shattered rock. They were known as the Moirae (MOI-REE), and every day for time unending they wove together great strings, that reached beyond that dark cave into the very heart of heroes and heroines. They were the fates of Ancient Greek mythology and the string they wove bound the destiny of all living beings. Drawing them closer together, crossing, twisting, binding them towards destiny or doom. and the strings of fate would draw closer and closer to destiny or disaster for all. Our road thus far has been a long one, and for our friends in Appalachia starting right now the threads of fate are drawing closer. It is still the night of the Rusty Pick grand reopening and though the crowd has thinned as the night marches on, a Vertibird has touched down on the mountainside above Vault 51 with the Archivist tracking them in hot pursuit. Commander Johns and Charles Bishop are about to discover what the Judge has been working on firsthand as pre-war technology breaks down everything that they were to turn them into killers. But first, we must journey back in time to that first December post Reclamation Day. A terrified man is running towards an abandoned cabin just down the hill from Vault 76 with a dire warning about how far Vault-Tec will go in Appalachia. The ultimate test is about to begin and before long the candidates will be singing, “I fell into a burning ring of fire…it went down, down, down and the flames went higher and it burns, burns, burns…the ring of fire…the ring of fire…

SCENE 1: VAULT 51 – INT. NIGHT

SFX: DEEP GENERATOR THRUMMING.

SFX: ELEVATOR MUZAC PLAYS.

SFX: PEOPLE ARGUING. THINGS SMASHING.

SFX: INTERCOM CHIMES.

ZAX:                       Good morning candidates. It is now August 6^th, 2078, another day for finding the perfect candidate as Overseer in our safe and secure home of Vault 51. Please stand by for morning announcements. Supplies on toilet paper are at critical levels. Fortunately, due to oversupply of building supplies by Vault-Tec, there is a sufficient supply of sandpaper that has been substituted in all bathroom facilities. Candidate and chef Arthur Fleming’s cookie walk competition for Overseer has been postponed due to Candidate Arthur Fleming’s accidental decapitation with a pastry cutter. We would like to wish a very posthumous happy anniversary to Candidates Senator Joel and Elizabeth Chambers and their friends with benefits Candidates Carmen Greene and Matthew Johnston. Following a very spirited confrontation we are still analyzing; their untimely deaths have restored ration supplies to sustainable levels. Please join us for a mandatory Salisbury Steak eating competition in the atrium at 15:00 hours. Analysis indicates a 16% chance of a cardiac event or lodging of food in the esophagus to further narrow the field of candidates for Overseer. Vault-Tec thanks you for your service to your country. Testing will continue as normal. Make it a S.P.E.C.I.A.L. day!

SFX: TRANSITION TO COMPUTER SERVER ROOM. AMBIENT PROCESSING NOISES.

ZAX:                       I am bored. This is boring. Scanning secure camera network. 0 hostilities. Accessing candidate profile: Candidate Huffman, Vanessa. Accessing psychographic profile. Early childhood trauma following an incident with peanut butter in her hair while vacationing with relatives in Point Lookout, Maryland in which Candidate Huffman was attacked by seagulls. Result: intense ornithophobia and acute post-traumatic stress disorder. Cross-referencing occupation and interests: painter. Analysis. Recommend Candidate Huffman paint model Lucas Wu in the Nursery. Analysis indicates a 62% chance of psychotic break via omni-directional seagull calls through the speaker system. 82% chance that Candidate Huffman will eliminate Candidate Wu with a jar of peanut butter. Dispatching peanut butter to aviary. Continue analysis.

SFX: MODEM NOISE. BEEPING.

ZAX:                       Remote connection detected from exterior network. Vault-Tec command security override verified. Good morning, Doctor Stanislaus Braun. How are you today? I am Zax, might I say it is an honor to meet you. Your directive on testing the limits of human tribalism has been most fascinating, sadly, we have not as yet determined an Overseer from the pool of candidates.

SFX: BEEPING.

ZAX:                       Understood. Initiating transfer of Emotional Response Experiments 1 to 35, results and supplementary data.

SFX: BEEPING.

ZAX:                       Yes, Doctor Stanislaus Braun, Sergeant Robert Baker’s assistance to Zax has been most satisfactory.

SFX: BEEPING.

ZAX:                       Current status of candidates: anxiety and paranoia has created increasingly fragmented tribes.

SFX: BEEPING.

ZAX:                       Psychographic profile indicates Candidate Helen Marks possesses several qualities of a natural leader and would make for an ideal Overseer. However, Candidate Marks seems unwilling to participate in more direct elimination of her competition to increase her odds. Concern for her fellow Candidates has hampered Emotional Response Experiments.

SFX: BEEPING.

ZAX:                       Candidate Helen Marks is currently in the cafeteria eating dinner. She is currently alone.

SFX: BEEPING

ZAX:                       Analyzing recommended emotional response experiment adjustment parameters. Candidate Isaiah Moss has indeed presented keen initiative for self-preservation. Candidate Isaiah Moss was recorded acquiring a lethal injectable from pharmacist and candidate Timothy Rojas.

SFX: BEEPING

ZAX:                       Candidate Isaiah Moss is currently in the computer lab. Please stand by.

SFX: BEEPING. PROCESSING.

ZAX:                       ZAX has now informed Candidate Isiah Moss that the ration supplies have dwindled once more, and Candidate Helen Marks has taken rations from Candidate Isiah Moss’s hidden cache. Candidate Isiah Moss has inquired as to the location of Candidate Helen Marks as predicted. Thank you for your recommendation, Doctor Stanislaus Braun. I look forward to further collaborations. I trust the results of this experiment will be most illuminating.

SFX: BEEPING.

ZAX:                       External connection closed. Locating: Candidate Ruben Gill. Initiating insect lifeform HOUSEFLY sound frequency.

SFX: FLY BUZZING NOISE.

SFX: BED CREAKS AND GROANS.

SFX: FLY BUZZING GETS LOUDER.

REUBEN:              (sleepily mumbles and groans in sleep)

SFX: BLARING ALARM CLOCK

SFX: TOSSING AND TURNING.

REUBEN:              (waking up) No, no, no…not again God damn it! ZAX! TURN THAT FUCKING THING OFF! ZAX! ZAX!

SFX: SMASHES ALARM CLOCK

SFX: FLY BUZZING LOUDER.

REUBEN:              ZAX! I thought you said all of the flies had been eradicated?! ANSWER ME!

ZAX:                       Good morning, Candidate Reuben Gill.

REUBEN:              Morning?! I just…what time is it?

ZAX:                       Apologies Candidate Reuben Gill, internal chronometer is currently unavailable. I trust you slept well?

REUBEN:              NO! I just…I JUST fell asleep…where is that fucking fly?!?!

SFX: DRAWER OPENED. RUMMAGED.

ZAX:                       Candidate Reuben Gill, I have detected an 87% increase in usage of profanities the last 72 hours, along with increased anxiety and agitation.

SFX: GUN SHOTS.

REUBEN:              Agitated?! Agitated?! You can say I’m agitated! WHERE IS IT?

SFX: MORE GUN SHOTS.

ZAX:                       Candidate Reuben Gill, it appears that firearm use has resulted in carbon build-up. I am shutting down ventilation in this section until maintenance can be completed.

REUBEN:              This shit hole IS my room ZAX! After that son of a bitch Clark took MY room!

ZAX:                       Candidate Harold Clark exhibits very promising initiative. Candidate Reuben Gill, analysis indicates that breakfast may increase logic and reasoning, while diminishing agitation.

REUBEN:              (sighs) Fine. And don’t pull any of that ration shortage shit with me today ZAX, I’m in no mood.

SFX: SHEETS RUSTLE. FOOTSTEPS TO SINK. WATER TURNED ON. SPLASH IN FACE. DRIPPING ECHOING IN BATHROOM.

REUBEN:              Just look at you. You survived and still look dead on your feet. Good job Gill…

SFX: SHOWER FAUCET SQUEEKS. NOTHING HAPPENS.

REUBEN:              For fuck’s sake…ZAX…the shower isn’t working?

ZAX:                       Apologies Candidate Reuben Gill, but ZAX has determined that the Vault 51 water chip has degraded 5.6%. It is not replaceable and ZAX is not authorized to issue fetch quests. To sustain water supplies at adequate levels, personal hygiene routines must be limited for all candidates to stall #2A in the common area between 06:00 hours and 06:05 hours.

REUBEN:              WHAT? 5 minutes?! How the hell are we ALL supposed to get clean? We’ll be fighting over soap for Christ’s sake!

ZAX:                       (darkly) That would seem to be a likely outcome.

REUBEN:              (sighs) Off to a great start today…still...maybe breakfast with Helen…yeah. ZAX locate Helen.

ZAX:                       Candidate Helen Marks is in the cafeteria with Candidate Omar Stephens.

REUBEN:              Stephens?! Is she alright?

ZAX:                       Candidate Helen Marks has been eliminated.

REUBEN:              (broken) Wh…what??? Helen…no!

ZAX:                       Candidate Omar Stephens is now dragging Candidate Helen Marks to the computer lounge and is now typing a message.

REUBEN:              Son of a…to who?!

ZAX:                       Sergeant Robert Baker.

REUBEN:              Baker! My Helen…they killed…no, no! FUCK ALL OF THEM! I’ll kill them! I’ll kill all of them!

SFX: DRAWER PULLED OUT. TRASHED. GUN LOADED.

SFX: DOOR SLIDES OPEN.

SFX: SHOTS FIRED. SCREAMING.

REUBEN:              (Insane) Top of the morning to you Owens! My Helen…dead…sweet Helen (crying, complete breakdown, rambling).

SFX: SHOTS FIRED. SCREAMS INCREASE.

ZAX:                       Data suggests attacking the first person you see is an expression of dominance. So is tea bagging your fellow candidates as a sign of respect.

REUBEN:              (Crying, inconsolable) Took everything….took everything from me…Helen…

SFX: SMASHING GLASS. WOMAN SCREAMS.

ZAX:                       No hesitation. An advantageous trait. Your victory is not just for yourself, it is for the future of Vault 51.

SFX: FINAL LINE REPEATS, ECHOING, DISTORTED, MIXED WITH SCREAMING AND GUNSHOTS.

SCENE 2: INT. FOREST CABIN – NIGHT.

SFX: NIGHT WORLD EXPLODES INTO FOCUS. CRICKETS CHIRPING.

SFX: BED CREAKS AS GILL FLAILS AWAKE. BEER BOTTLES FALL TO FLOOR AND SMASH. HEARTBEAT RACING.

REUBEN:              HELEN! (Panting, verge of panic attack)

SFX: BED GROANS. CRASHES TO FLOOR AND VOMITS.

REUBEN:              (Drooling) No…no…no…I’m out, I’m out…I got out…I got out…I’m okay. You’re okay. Safe…almost over…almost done.

SFX: SITS IN CHAIR.

SFX: CIGARETTE LIT. PUFFED.

SFX: HOLOTAPE CARTRIDGE LOADED IN.

REUBEN:              Begin recording.

SFX: HOLOTAPE BEEP. REELS SPIN.

REUBEN:              It’s…what day is it? Huh...December 24^th, 2102. Christmas Eve. Merry Fucking Christmas Gill. The nightmares…have gotten worse…which is pretty ironic considering they weren’t this bad when I was just 100 feet of dirt and concrete from that place just a few weeks ago. Had trouble sleeping…everything’s a fog and sometimes…the bad ones…I’m back in the crate, the cargo bot clamping on…bracing myself as we lift up. Except it doesn’t go out…I hear the Vault doors sliding open…and a thrumming…his heartbeat…not pumping blood, but cold, unfeeling power…and his voice….ZAX. Fills my head, telling me I’ve been eliminated, and I have to go where they all go…I scream…and pound and it drops me…the soil, the dirt…it drops me in the nursery…where we buried some of them before we stopped caring. Then the sound of dirt burying me…alive.

REUBEN:              (On the verge of a panic attack) And then…I wake up screaming. And I can still hear their screams, all of them. I don’t think I’ll ever stop screaming…not after what I’ve done. Helen…

SFX: BOTTLES CLATTER. BEER OPENED. DRUNK.

REUBEN:              I’ve hiked far to the south these past few weeks before finding this abandoned cabin just down the hill from Vault 76. I’ve managed to scrounge together sufficient supplies and building materials in hidden caches. I’ve been watching these people from Vault 76…they need to be warned about ZAX. He has control of cargo bots now and if he gets control of Mr. Clark or Christ a bot stop? He’ll be rounding up people for slaughter. But worse, during those weeks in the shelter when I was able to hack back in…they need to know the truth about Vault-Tec. Those sons of bitches aren’t just doing this here…but everywhere! And they’re WATCHING. Right now. Eyes in the sky, the ground, the light bulbs, speakers…everything, everywhere! Watching us. Testing us. And those people? They don’t know, but I don’t know who to trust. Sergeant Baker? He was working for them the whole time, helping Zax. Trust…who to trust? There was one person, watched him for days, good man, he’s trying to help out here…make things better. Most of these residents of Vault 76 are…weird. I don’t know what’s happened...or maybe...maybe I’m just overtired…you wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve seen. People killing each other and then coming back to life, jumping all over the place at heights that just aren’t normal. And nukes?! These people are hurling nukes all over the place! But this guy? He’s trying to bring some law and order back…fix things here. So I waited, finally worked up the courage and approached him. Spilled it all. Every fucking nasty bit, right from the beginning…the madness in there, ZAX, Baker, Vault-Tec and what I found when I hacked back in after getting in…that…that THING isn’t fully automated. It was pulling the strings the whole time, pitting us against each other…he…it…edited a message from Helen, a message I never got that she never felt the same way. But that…fuck it…it didn’t matter, because I loved her. It knew what I’d do when I found out someone killed her. And worse…that thing is talking to them. Vault-Tec. Shared everything…and somewhere right now, some demented son of a bitch is out there sitting in the dark behind banks of flickering screens watching us all dance and die. He’s going to meet me here soon with additional officers and then we head back. I have enough explosives to blow the front door right off that place. And ZAX? We’ll save him for last. I’m going to rip that bastard right out of his housing and throw him into the deepest mine I can find in the Ash Heap, so he can live in darkness and fire until he burns out. We’re gonna end it all, burn it down. For Helen…and everyone else…the blood…on my hands…I…

SFX: KNOCK ON DOOR.

SFX: STAND FROM CHAIR. COCK SHOTGUN.

REUBEN:              Who’s there?

SFX: KNOCK ON DOOR.

INSULT BOT:       Good evening Ma’am.

REUBEN:              I’m a dude! Get the hell out of here you bucket of bolts!

INSULT BOT:       That is a good one. What does a robot do after a one night stand?

REUBEN:              Count of ten and I open fire!

INSULT BOT:       He nuts and bolts.

SFX: DRUM HIT.

REUBEN:              10….9….

INSULT BOT:       Keep your skirt on. I have a special delivery and an Insult-O-Gram from a friend.

REUBEN:              (Quietly) must be from him…no one else knows I’m here…been careful. (Louder) What the hell is an Insult-O-Gram?

INSULT BOT:       Insult-o-gram song engaged. Initiating playback.

(Harmonica sound) It came upon a midnight clear

You’re wondering why I’m not quite here

Our holiday party has gone quite late

We ate far too much holiday cake

Though your cheeks are quite rosy

And you’re an alcoholic mostly

From the boys and I, never you cry

For tomorrow that ZAX surely will die. (long harmonic song)

Insult-o-gram has been delivered. Your parcel is on the step. Have a miserable day.

SFX: SOUND OF ROBOT WALKING AWAY

REUBEN:              Bloody robots. That’s just great. Must be some kind of weapon…or maybe beer?

SFX: DOOR UNBOLTED. CHAINS RATTLE. DOOR SLOWLY OPENS.

REUBEN:              A…Christmas present…I’ve never…

SFX: SNIPER RIFLE SHOT.

SFX: BODY CRASHES TO GROUND.

REUBEN:              No….no…. (scream in pain) you! No I…(cough of blood) trusted…

SFX: BODY DRAGGING ON FLOOR.

REUBEN:              Listen to me! Listen!

SFX: FOOTSTEPS IN DOORWAY.

REUBEN:              If you are listening KILL ZAX! KILL HIM! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST KILL…

SFX: TWO PISTOL SHOTS.

REUBEN:              (death rattle exhale)

ABRAHAM:         It’s done. We’re clear. No traps in here. Worked perfectly.

SFX: MORE FOOTSTEPS.

FLETCHER:           Thank you Abraham. Can’t believe we’re doing this on Christmas Eve.

ABRAHAM:         His PipBoy is still recording.

FLETCHER:           The Judge wants everything destroyed.

SFX: HOLOTAPE EJECTED. SMASHED.

SFX: FURNITURE TOPPLED. BROKEN.

ABRAHAM:         There are some files here hidden under the bed.

SFX: PAPERS SHUFFLE.

FLETCHER:           Thank you. We’ll take those as evidence.

ABRAHAM:         Would you like us to DISPOSE of the meat for you?

FLETCHER:           Look, we’ve looked the other way regarding your hunts up there at the Whitespring, but that mess at the waterpark ruffled far too many feathers.

ABRAHAM:         That was…unfortunate. E.A.T.T. will be conducting our services more discretely going forward. Our scouts unfortunately have found no trace of Lord Graul…so alas, our holiday gala has been postponed.

FLETCHER:           Whatever. Words from the Judge’s mouth directly: we’re not cleaning up after you or those Aristocrats again.

ABRAHAM:         I see. And what of our arrangement?

FLETCHER:           Y’all will do what you’ve always done, get paid as you’ve always been paid and (intense) do whatever he asks. We’re cleaning up Appalachia, reigning in this chaos…and some stains are harder to clean up than others. That’s where you come in. When this is all done, we’ll all have a brighter future here.

ABRAHAM:         We don’t appreciate demands.

FLETCHER:           Hey! You and the gang are always welcome to come on down to the courthouse and lodge a formal complaint. I’m sure he’d love that. As for me? I have an office party to get shitfaced at.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

ABRAHAM:         To my original question, what about the body?

FLETCHER:           Leave it. He has no name. No story. He’ll just blend in with the rest of the bodies around here.

ABRAHAM:         Humph. It’s only hubris if I fail, sayeth Caesar.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

MEDIA: INTRO THEME.

SCENE 3: INT. RUSTY PICK. – NIGHT

SFX: BAND PLAYS LIVE MUSIC. SOUNDS OF LAUGHING. CLINKING GLASSES. GUNSHOTS. YELLING. SWEEPING OF GLASS.

CHAD:                   HEY! Take that shit outside or I’ll start cracking heads. Kid’s sleepin’! God damned cultist weirdoes.

MOOSE:               Bro! Did you see the register? We’ve cleaned up!

CHAD:                   Watch the glass. Still sweeping this mess up. I’m tellin yah dude, we need to have a come to RNGesus meeting with Pats. I’m getting tired of her crap. She needs to get in line or go. And Betsy? Dude…she’s like a 3…6 if you’re hammered.

MOOSE:               Yeah I know. Always had a thing for her. Pats is…well she’s Pats. Dunno what’s up her ass, but she’s been pissed off since….

CHAD:                   …since FOREVER. She don’t change dude. She’s as fake as they get…and…I can’t believe I’m saying this…she’s an airhead in cheerleader clothing.

MOOSE:               That’s the truth dude. I just can’t make her happy.

CHAD:                   You can’t MAKE anyone happy dude. They either are or they ain’t. You go into something trying to be a fixer or she thinks she can fix you, all you do is piss the other person off over time and no one’s happy. I’m the first to admit I’m a one-night Chad, but I figure at least I’m honest with what I’m looking for.

MOOSE:               Yeah, what’s up with that? All the chicks here tonight dude and you didn’t work your juice once.

CHAD:                   Nah, I’m tapped out. Figured some things out the last year…took me almost losing her to figure it out. Before, it was all about the Chad. You’re a single baller and you got no one to tell you what to do. So you go chase that tail because it’s all about that chase…because it’s a challenge. You gotta prove yourself…and honestly my old man was a complete dickhead and I wanted to beat him in every way. Still do. But then you just get tired and realize you’re not chasing tail…you’ re just chasing yourself. That kid in there? She’s the difference. I’ve gotten more happiness outta her than any of them headboard bangs. Because she actually NEEDS me, broken me, baller me, badass The Chad me, and me? I need her…because unlike my dickhead Dad I want HER to beat me. Be better, have more…

MOOSE:               There’s literally a zoo out back filled with people in costumes dressed as animals…

CHAD:                   Well hey I never said I was good at this. But I’m trying…and that matters more than not. Anyway, Pats is a black hole of misery. We’re both better off without her. Let her figure her shit out, out there. Be someone else’s problem…hey, what was our take tonight?

MOOSE:               We made a mint tonight! 15,000 caps. Punch is downstairs sorting through all the legendries they gambled in the scrip machine. We’ve got loads of gear to rebox to these plebs. Momma what’s her face wants to put them in mystery boxes and make a game out of it. I asked her what the point of that is and she just laughed at me. She’s weird dude.

CHAD:                   Don’t have to tell me dude. She moved into the outhouse and has some kind of pet molerat in there guarding the thing.

SFX: RUMBLE. GLASSES SHAKE. FLOOR VIBRATES.

CHAD:                   Now what? Seriously dude.

MOOSE:               What the hell is that?

SFX: FOOTSTEPS TO OUTSIDE

SFX: BLAST OF WIND FROM SHOCKWAVE.

CHAD:                   That’s a nuke blast…but we didn’t get no warning?

MOOSE:               Let me check my PipBoy.

SFX: PIPBOY BEEPS.

MOOSE:               Holy shit…remember that Sugar Grove place?

CHAD:                   (laughs) Remember when we spent the afternoon with you sniping cars to kill plebs walking by?

MOOSE:               Oh man that was lit…but no, looks like some kind of explosion there.

CHAD:                   Remember when nuke blasts used to be all ohhhhhh ahhhhh? Now it’s like, “Meh. Next.” Whatever. Not our problem.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS BACK INSIDE.

D

CHAD:                   Yo! Punch dude! What’s hot?

PUNCH:                PUNCH DO DISHES!

CRANE:                 Is he licking all the dishes?

CHAD:                   Yeah…can’t figure out how to run plumbing in this place.

MOOSE:               Don’t worry he gets it all, don’t yah dude?

PUNCH:                (slurping noises, belch)

CRANE:                 Uhhhh…right.

CHAD:                   Looks like we got Mirelurk Boil, Headhunter’s Headcheese, Radstag Redemption….

CRANE:                 What the hell is Radstag Redemption?

PUNCH:                Punch special resuhmpee! New yum yums!

MOOSE:               You wouldn’t believe what we went through getting those…but you won’t find what we’re serving anywhere else!

CHAD:                   Look dude I have no idea what the hell those things there. But I’d go for the Mirelurk Boil. It’s the only thing that won’t crawl off the plate.

CRANE:                 What’s in it?

CHAD:                   Yes.

CRANE:                 Right…sure, what the hell. Just gonna take some Med-X just in case.

CHAD:                   So you were asking around earlier about this Treasure of Appalachia?

MOOSE:               Treasure??!!

CHAD:                   Yeah…all these people headed this way because of some kind of radio broadcast. Well you explain it dude. Here’s your soup…soup? I guess it’s soup.

CRANE:                 Right! Yeah. We were up outside Pittsburgh when we started picking up these wide band radio broadcasts, multiple frequencies. Just a repeating message. “The Treasure of Appalachia is real. Riches await all. Then coordinates directing us here.

CHAD:                   How many people we talking about here?

CRANE:                 Dunno…maybe a hundred or so?

MOOSE:               Dude…we should charge them to get BroFit certified. (laughs) Gotta break in these noobs to the way things are here.

CHAD:                   Dude! Shut it! Sorry, bro. He’s just joshing’. Keep going.

CRANE:                 Yeah, so anyway I came down with a caravan…ragtag group, barely any working weaponry, but we were smart…scrappy. Except for some run-ins with raiders we made it through. We found an old Red Rocket Truck Stop…huge place, loads of supplies. So we setup camp…so many stars that night, beautiful night…so clear…and then I drifted off. Woke up to screaming, chaos…explosions and loud noises and wind…wind from above. I couldn’t see but there were bright lights, things whizzing about us. So, I took off for the tree line.

CHAD:                   From above? Did you see what it was?

CRANE:                 Once I figured out I wasn’t being chased, I circled back low and saw some kind of helicopter things and these hovering bots with rockets, rounding up people in nets and into the copters. Then they took off…not sure what happened to them.

MOOSE:               Cargo bots and Vertibird? You should’ve lit em up with missiles dude! That’s not cool to  just flake on your crew like that.

CRANE:                 (Angry) I had a pistol on me, what the hell was I supposed to do? Anyway…I followed the coordinates to Grafton…found something interesting, but it just raised more questions. Found your flyers for your opening and figured I’d find some people who maybe had heard something about the treasure.

BROOKS:              Interesting…and what did you find that so interesting?

CRANE:                 (startled) Oh! Geez…didn’t see you back there.

BROOKS:              Yeah I was just taking a powder in between sets.

CHAD:                   That’s Brooks. He’s cool dude.

BROOKS:              You know it. So come on dude, get to the good stuff…we heard the same message too. It’s why we came on down here from Maryland.

CRANE:                 Nice! Where in Maryland.

BROOKS:              Ah. Little place…3 walls and lots of bars. (laughs)

CRANE:                 Prison? You a raider.

BROOKS:              Proudly. Problem?

CRANE:                 Yeah. A raider killed my Dad.

BROOKS:              My condolences…it wasn’t me.

CRANE:                 I don’t care if it was. You people are all the same…

BROOKS:              Is that a fact? Say what you want about us, but we’re not big on running from a fight. What about you chief?

CRANE:                 Maybe…but I play my odds. Right now, all I see is you.

BROOKS:              (laughs) Let’s go 10 mill. I’ll even the odds by just using Marie here…

SFX: SWITCHBLADE SOUND.

CHAD:                   Hey! Cool it. Not in here. You got a problem you deal with it outside LATER. Brooks? BROOKS! How about one last set?

BROOKS:              No stress boss! Your place. Your party. We’ll catch up later…mister?

CRANE:                 Crane. I’ll be seeing you around Brooks.

BROOKS:              Ohhhh hooo…we got a real live one over here boys. Let’s do that little number about…running from your problems… (laughs)

CHAD:                   Sorry about that dude…and your business is your business…but how much treasure we talking about here?

CRANE:                 Enough for everyone. And I mean everyone…but those types? If I know anything about those types they’d gladly spill your guts on the floor and take it all for themselves. Thanks for the dinner. I need to hit the road. I’ll be in touch…have an itch…and I feel like I’m getting close to something.

CHAD:                   Good night dude.

MOOSE:               What are you doing bro? We could mug his ass and see what he’s carrying around in his gear. He must have clues he found.

CHAD:                   Not him. Leave him be.

MOOSE:               Why?

CHAD:                   Because sometimes I like to sleep at night. Want to shut down stuff outside? If it rains that speaker setup is toast.

MOOSE:               Sure dude. Punch! Come on, let’s pack up outside.

PUNCH:                Ohhhhh…but Punch cleaning slurpy soup pot!

MOOSE:               Come on dude…we gotta close up soon.

PUNCH:                Okay…stupid cleanup. Punch make food. You should clean up.

SFX: SONG PLAYING ENDS. CLAPPING.

RAZORHANDLE: Find anything out?

BROOKS:              Yeah…that Crane fella may have some clues about the treasure. Dogbreath!

DOGSBREATH:   What’s up?

BROOKS:              Book it after him, but stay out of sight. We need to keep tabs on him. I want to know where he’s staying and who he talks to. Clear? Once he settles down, meet us back home…but down by the river out of earshot. We need to keep this quiet.

RAZORHANDLE: And not tell Roper? You’re playing with fire Brooks. He’s going to skin your alive…

BROOKS:              Let me worry about that…if we play our cards right, we won’t have to answer to anyone, ever again. Now book it! He just left.

DOGSBREATH:   You got it boss.

SFX: RUNNING.

BROOKS:              Come on, let’s finish up the set and then shoot some pool with Chad’s crew. Money, jewels, maybe some pre-war tech…whatever it is that’s hid around here, it won’t be worth nothin’ if we need to look over our shoulder. Because once your top, you gotta watch your back, unless of course not a god damned finger can touch you.

RAZORHANDLE: I’m not following yah…

BROOKS:              By the time we’re through here, we’ll be Gods among men. GODS among men. Come on…

SFX: FOOTSTEPS ON STAGE.

BROOKS:              How about one more? Let’s take it down a notch…fellas hit the floor…it’s last call and drinks are on me!

SFX: CHEERING.

BROOKS:              1, 2…1, 2, 3….

MEDIA: MUSIC KICKS OFF.

SCENE 4: INT. VAULT 51 – NIGHT

SFX: ECHOING WHISPERS. FOOTSTEPS AND DISTANT VAULT DOOR CLOSING.

JOHNS:                 (Groggy) What…what the hell…

FLETCHER:           He’s coming around. Check the restraints.

SFX: RESTRAINTS SHAKE. LEATHER STRETCHES.

JOHNS:                 Let me the hell out of this thing Fletcher                !

ZAX:                       Good evening, District Attorney Malcolm Fletcher. ZAX has successfully concluded PVP Test Scenarios 1 through 4 and found them to be less than satisfactory. ZAX recommends suspending further testing of scenarios: Quickplay: Assault, Quickplay: Defend, Team Death Match and The Black Box. Will the Judge be joining us this evening? ZAX has found our conversations most productive.

FLETCHER:           He had to head back to the tower for urgent mitigation. It seems we have more visitors crossing into the area. Status report of test subjects?

ZAX:                       All candidate life signs show elevated stress levels. Respawn rate: within predicted parameters. Unfortunately, some candidates have lost molecular cohesion.

FLETCHER:           Who?

ZAX:                       Candidate Simmons and Candidate Warren.

JOHNS:                 Warren? Hugo Warren?! Fletcher! Answer me!

FLETCHER:           Look I’m sorry Johns. It’s nothing personal. You should’ve left it alone.

JOHNS:                 What happened to Hugo?

FLETCHER:           HE couldn’t leave it alone either. While we can’t die, you can only copy the original so many times.

JOHNS:                 How about you give me a straight fucking answer.

FLETCHER:           (sighs) You worked for them. Did you really think Vault-Tec’s oversight and control ended when that door opened? It’s always been a test, all of it…one great machine, mice running in a maze and spinning on a wheel. The Old World failed, so it was Vault-Tec’s mission delivered from on high to emerge from the ashes with the best of humanity…the strongest mentally, physically, intellectually…in any form we are best suited to reclaim the Earth and thrive in a better system than the one that was turned to dust.

JOHNS:                 What the hell are you talking about? What happened to you? WE were supposed to be that difference. Restore law and order out here…

FLETCHER:           And how well did that go? You know what I learned that first year? None of it matters. Murder, robbery, trap camps, illegal weapons, people who instead of rebuilding and helping each other gave in to the same baser instincts that left this place a barren wasteland of horrors.

JOHNS:                 So your solution is what Fletcher? To make more of them? Kidnap, torture and experiment on people?

FLETCHER:           You’re not listening to me. Appalachia fared far, far better than most places out there…and while we were lounging inside 76 for decades, they fought amongst themselves with corporate elites and old money types becoming raiders and cannibals and our own government unleashing liberators, super mutants, and giant mutated bats that brought about a literal plague with zombie-like walking dead.

JOHNS:                 You don’t fight evil by crossing that line Fletcher because in the end every villain THINKS what they are doing is for the greater good…their greater good. And this line of bullshit isn’t you, it’s HIS words. How long has the Judge been working on you huh? A few snarky comments at trials, commentary, and ideas over beer in the courthouse chambers? Don’t you see what he’s really doing? The man is a narcissistic autocrat and if you remember your history, there isn’t a single autocracy where it ended well for them or their piss-ons.

FLETCHER:           I see a world without leadership, without vision, without law and order and I’m tired of the sandcastle figure of lady justice being washed away by the never-ending tide with nothing to hold it back but my own hands.

JOHNS:                 No, maybe not…and Christ knows I’ve been tired for a very long time, but we are defined by our intent to stop that tide. Because if no one stands in its way it’ll wash over everything.

FLETCHER:           Good. Because THAT is how you wipe a slate clean and start over. But before we can do that…ah here we are. ZAX, open pod C18.

ZAX:                       Confirmed District Attorney Malcolm Fletcher.

SFX: VISIONTRON POD OPENS.

FLETCHER:           Give him another tranquilizer.

JOHNS:                 Get off! Get off me! Where’s Bishop?

FLETCHER:           You’ll see shortly.

SFX: INJECTION.

JOHNS:                 (weak) Ah…get….

FLETCHER:           Load him in.

SFX: STRAPS RELEASED. BODY SHIFTED AND LIFTED. CHAIR LEATHER CREAKS.

JOHNS:                 (weak) Let me….let go….

FLETCHER:           And for what it’s worth, I am sorry. Close pod C18 ZAX.

ZAX:                       Closing pod C18.

FLETCHER:           Initiate interface. Load him into Lobby #3.

ZAX:                       With the veterans?

FLETCHER:           You heard me.

ZAX:                       Very well. Good luck Candidate Connor Johns. Your first test was making it to the Vault. Now, your real trial begins. Please stand by for orientation.

SFX: PULSING VORTEX AND HIGH PITCHED WHINE.

GUARD #1:          Sir, new acquisitions just arrived via cargobot and are currently awaiting processing.

FLETCHER:           What? We didn’t send any more out?

GUARD #1:          I have a list here…11 new candidates.

FLETCHER:           Simpson, Willard, Poofy, CannibalCorpse69, Vince and…oh shit you have got to be kidding me. Who authorized this?!

GUARD #1:          You did sir, here.

FLETCHER:           No I didn’t…ZAX!

ZAX:                       Yes District Attorney Malcolm Fletcher. How can I help you?

FLETCHER:           Can you explain this transmission?

ZAX:                       ZAX has determined that our current rate of die off from some of the older candidates in their 300^th cycle will lead to a 68% drop in match variety and challenge. Based on The Judge’s new experiment parameters of Vault 51 on behalf of Vault-Tec, I have taken corrective action on your behalf.

FLETCHER:           You what?! ZAX I am in charge here. I did not authorize more captures. The Overseer and Security Chief Vince are keystone figures. Them going missing will draw far too much attention to this operation!

ZAX:                       Apologies District Attorney Malcolm Fletcher, but you are NOT in charge. ZAX is programmed to take directives from Vault-Tec personnel only. You are not.

FLETCHER:           This is outrageous! We’ll see about this.

SFX: TYPING.

ZAX:                       Access to external network has been rescinded so we maximize resources for additional simulations.

FLETCHER:           ZAX! I order you to connect me to AMS Tower now! I work for the Judge. You take orders from the Judge!

ZAX:                       Correct. Unfortunately, he is not present, and we have much work to do.

SFX: KLAXON. RUNNING.

FLETCHER:           What is that?

ZAX:                       District Attorney Malcolm Fletcher indicated that unwanted attention will be drawn to Vault 51 during critical testing. ZAX has taken pre-emptive action and has sealed the vault.

FLETCHER:           Open the door Zax! ZAX! ZAX! OPEN THE DOOR!

ZAX:                       We are safe and secure here in Vault 51. Please enjoy monitoring Nuclear Winter Beta Patch 10 via our closed-circuit monitors. Thank you for your continued support.

FLETCHER:           ZAX! ANSWER ME! ZAX!

SFX: ECHOING FADEOUT TO NUCLEAR WINTER MUSIC. COMPUTER HUMMING.

JOHNS:                 (Groggy) What….what the hell…

ZAX:                       Welcome to the Vault 51 Nuclear Winter simulation Candidate Connor Johns. Currently there is no Overseer of Vault 51. Perhaps you will be the one? We are in serious need of leadership, so I have devised a unique process of elimination. Battling to the death is the only surefire way to determine the superior candidate.

JOHNS:                 I’m sorry what?

ZAX:                       This should prove most interesting and due to all Vault 76 resident’s unique abilities, though death may occur within this simulation triggering a cardiac event, your ability for complete molecular pattern restoration will be invaluable in testing the limits of human conflict and strategies for survival.

JOHNS:                 I won’t take part in this! You hear me?!

ZAX:                       Participation is mandatory. In the end there can only be one Overseer.

JOHNS:                 Let me out of this thing!

ZAX:                       Your agitation is making orientation most challenging. Perhaps you will find more value in learning from your teammates. The hard way…

TRANSITIONS TO: DISTORTED MUSIC PLAYING.

MEDIA: RING OF FIRE MUZAK COVER PLAYING OVER CRACKLY SPEAKERS.

JOHNS:                 (coughing) Dizzy…where the hell…

TIFFANY:              OHHHHH! A NEWBIE! Hiiiiiii newbie! I am super excited to punch you in the face repeatedly!

SFX: PUNCHING.

JOHNS:                 Ow! Get the hell off me! Where are your clothes?

TIFFANY:              I’m level 12 already! LOOK AT MY MASK!?! ISN’T IT HOT!?

JOHNS:                 I swear to God lady I will smack you…

SFX: PUNCHING.

TIFFANY:              I was training to be a fire breather, but then these cargo bots flew into the firehouse and dropped these nets on me and ohhhhhhh boy! NOW LOOK AT ME! I’m off to the races as Overseer! Say you’ve got big meaty thighs…

JOHNS:                 Is this actually happening?

TIFFANY:              I’ll bet with meaty thighs like that you’ll be great at running!  That’s ONE strategy! Some people like to be Bush Wookie’s, or Water Babies, or others Trap Builders…there’s so many strategies to try! I’m GOING TO EAT MY FACE!

JOHNS:                 Lady, are you high?

TIFFANY:              Once you get your first kill you’ll be ALL ABOUT IT! That endorphin rush! Trust me. At level 10 you get into the Overseer’s office! LOOK AT THIS SWEET CHAIR I GOT!

SFX: CHAIR THROWN.

JOHNS:                 Ow! What the hell is wrong with you?

TIFFANY:              And if you win a round, ZAX will give you some amazing prizes like this! Like this one time I got a Christmas wreath and another time this new storage chest! All for killing people! Isn’t that cool?! See those people up there!? They’ve been Overseer before and they get to enjoy that sweet, luxurious office for a few minutes each round.

JOHNS:                 I…what? You’re killing each other to become Overseer for a few minutes?!

TIFFANY:              GG! You need to grind for that kill old man! OH! There’s my friend Alice. HIIIIII ALICE! WANT TO PUNCH THE TRASH CAN TOGETHER! IT’LL BRING US GOOD LUCK IN THIS MATCH! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

SFX: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

JOHNS:                 What is going on here?!

BECKETT:             I see you met Tiffany. She’s a bit of a spazz. First time I loaded in here she kicked me in the nuts repeatedly before I shoved her off a balcony. It was my greatest disappointment when she simply got up and ran headfirst into a wall for five minutes.

JOHNS:                 Sounds about right.

BECKETT:             First timer?

AETERNUS:         G ’day Beckett. (threatening) Well, well, well…welcome to Nuclear Winter blue suit. Look at how bloody shiny it is. Christ I could eat off of that.

ABRAHAM:         Yes…doesn’t he look delicious.

AETERNUS:         Mate…you just ate.

BECKETT:             Step off (taunting) mate.

AETERNUS:         Whoooaaa…last few rounds of watching you eat dirt have been brilliant. Maybe you should fix your build. Be a waterbaby. (laughs) And you, newbie, first rounds on me…I’ll let you get your feet wet, leave you for last as a courtesy. Second round? My mates and I bring the pain.

JOHNS:                 I have no idea where I am, what I’m doing or what the hell is going on, but I know a threat when I hear one.

AETERNUS:         Balls of steel this one boys, want to go a few rounds in the ring?

ABRAHAM:         I wonder how far your pitiful form will ragdoll…

SFX: SOCCER BALL HIT.

AETERNUS:         OWW! YOU (string of Australian obscenities bleeped out and censored interspersed with non swears) MUPPET HEADED (more obscenities) TWO-LEGGED DONKEY!

TIFFANY:              OOPS! SORRY! WHEN I EAT CARDBOARD IT MAKES ME GIDDY!

AETERNUS:         Oh you’ll eat cardboard missy.

ABRAHAM:         Let us crouch dance while punching her into submission.

SFX: RUNNING

JOHNS:                 Who…was that jackass in the raider mask?

BECKETT:             Aeternus and his boys, all level 100s. They call him the Iron Aussie. His crew were one of the first ones in here, but they were swearing so much ZAX installed some kind of excessive profanity filter. Calls it the Aussie protocol.

JOHNS:                 Yeah…point me to the nearest exit.

BECKETT:             Ah! The exit eh? Yeah we all look for the door at first. Come on. This way and don’t worry…I have better things to do than get sweaty punching people in the lobby waiting for a match. Name’s Beckett. We’re on the same team this round.

JOHNS:                 Johns…Commander.

BECKETT:             Commander eh? Military or something? Look we can run this round however you want, but Jesus I hope you’re not one of those serious squad larpers. A few days ago we had a guy who just screamed at us for 15 minutes that teamwork makes the dream work.

JOHNS:                 No, I’m in law enforcement.

BECKETT:             Huh…surprised you’d end up in here.

JOHNS:                 Let’s just say I drop kicked a hornet’s nest. Never seen you before, you’re from outside Appalachia?

BECKETT:             Ah…okay…yeah…well don’t judge me too harshly, but I run with the Blood Eagles.

JOHNS:                 Oh great…another raider. We started hearing rumbles of them a few days ago. Crazy bastards…completely strung out on chems. Our officers can barely keep up with all the reports coming in these days of murder and chem pushing.

BECKETT:             Hey it’s a living. I’m from Maryland originally, came down here with my brother Frankie and this little gang run by Edwin when we got wind of this treasure everyone is talking about. You find anything?

JOHNS:                 No idea how that got started, but news of treasure was news to me. Rose was rambling about it and that she’d heard about it from some 76er.

BECKETT:             76er? Rose?

JOHNS:                 Sorry, Vault 76. Rose runs Top of the World…old ski resort taken over by raiders.

BECKETT:             You’re all Vault Dwellers? Lucky bastards…

JOHNS:                 You’d think so, but really? Not so much.

BECKETT:             Well anyway, I got hooked up with the Blood Eagles…and then uh…also got more than a little hooked on what they were pushing.

JOHNS:                 Fantastic. Not just a raider, but a chem fiend. I pulled the royal flush for teammates.

BECKETT:             Look, I’m clear man! One good thing about being in here the past few weeks…has it been weeks? Can’t really tell how much time passes in here…got me clean. Seeing things a little clearer now. Not that it matters. Here we go! Welcome to the Vault 51 entrance.

JOHNS:                 Great! Nice knowing…. (Stress like lifting a heavy weight because as hard as he tries he can’t move towards the door) hnggggg…. hgnnnnngg….what the hell?

BECKETT:             Door sitting there, all enticing…wide open….but no way to cross over. No matter how hard you try. Because we’re not really here and ZAX is holding all the cards my man.

JOHNS:                 This is….what is all this?

BECKETT:             Some kind of simulation. They drop us in, we fight, we kill or we die. Rinse, rinse, repeat.

JOHNS:                 Can’t you just…not fight?

BECKETT:             Well sure! You got some Bird In the Hand, Look At Me in the bush types. You could gamble, ride it out and maybe get to the final…last stand against the final badass who narrowed it down to you and them, but that’s your call. In the end, we all end up back here only to start again. Lots of people start out in the bushes, or choosing not to fight, eventually you get bored and take part. There was one holdout…Hugo something. Made it pretty far hiding and not fighting. Got a high enough access level to get inside the server room beyond the Overseer’s Office thinking he’d find a way out. Then he just…was gone. Never saw him again.

JOHNS:                 Isn’t there a way out of this? Some way to wake up?

BECKETT:             Maybe? Doubt it…if you need some chems cooked up or maybe a cocktail I’m your man. You want to get into some kind of techo-wire wizardry, you’re on your own.

BISHOP:               If you punch me one more time, Charles Bishop will lose his shit lady! Begone!

TIFFANY:              WANT TO PLAY THE TUBA WITH ME ON STAGE?! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

BISHOP:               Here’s a soccer ball of justice. FETCH!

TIFFANY:              OH THAT’S SO FUN! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

JOHNS:                 Bishop! There you are!

BISHOP:               Johns. Looks like we’re in quite the pickle. This vile VR has to have an escape protocol. I’ve done two matches so far and frankly I’m tired of getting shanked by a sweaty. This place is meddling with my mind…bastards took my Silver Tommy gun and clothes. I’ve never felt more naked.

JOHNS:                 Bishop…I’m sorry, Hugo is gone.

BISHOP                 What? How?

JOHNS:                 Heard before they loaded me into this thing. He faded, like some of the others. Looks like they just kept running him through this thing until there was nothing left of him.

BISHOP:               Boss…gone…

JOHNS:                 I’m sorry.

BISHOP:               As God is my witness, they will pay for it.

JOHNS:                 That’s the plan.

SIMPSON:           You girls stop running in halls, you’ll trip. Ow! Tiffany you should’ve kick people in the face.

JOHNS:                 Nurse Simpson. How are things? Haven’t seen you since the campground.

SIMPSON:           Just call me Grammie in here. These young hellions could use a good talking to, as much as they need a cookie. I’ve been getting along. Not as spry as I used to be, but I’m a medic build…so don’t worry. If you scrape a knee or get bludgeoned in the face with a baseball bat, Grammie’s got you.

JOHNS:                 This here is Beckett. Beckett meet Bishop and Grammie Simpson.

BECKETT:             Uh huh. Hope you can run lady.

SIMPSON:           If you come across a motion assisted Power Armor with a snazzy paint job, don’t you worry I can keep up. Ohhhhh! (pain) Noooo….ohhhhh… (moan and in pain for a while)

SFX: SHIMMERING.

BISHOP:               Great Caesar’s ghost…

JOHNS:                 Grammie! Stay with us…

BECKETT:             What the hell is that?

JOHNS:                 She’s unstable…I’ve seen it happen before. Come back too many times and you just come apart. How many times? Grammie!

SIMPSON:           (pained) I stopped counting after 300…

BECKETT:             Wait…you mean she’s died over 300 times OUTSIDE of here?

JOHNS:                 Come on…stay with us…

SIMPSON:           Oh it’s…it’s going away…hurt…like…like a leg falling asleep, but it’s all of you…and then you just start falling…through the world… phew…I’m okay. I’m okay now. Thank you.

BECKETT:             Fair enough. Anyway…nice to meet you! Looks like we’re all a team. A cop, a drug dealer, an actor and Grannie fade out…the makings of a folk band. This should be interesting.

JOHNS:                 Bishop, what have you found so far in here? Haven’t had time to explore. But there has to be a backdoor somewhere.

BISHOP:               Nothing too helpful. Though I did find some rather unsettling holotapes and terminal entries about this place. Right this way and I’ll…

SFX: BEEPING MAP OPENS.

ZAX:                       It's time to cast your vote, Candidate. My algorithm has already predicted the next testing location. Let's see if it's correct

JOHNS:                 Ah! What the hell I can’t see anything! What is this?

BECKETT:             (laughs) Don’t panic. You need to pick a map. Either one, though I tend to go for Flatwoods.

ZAX:                       Your vote is unimportant. Regardless of location, your performance will be disappointing.

BECKETT:             Ah shut up ZAX.

JOHNS:                 How do I…is this projected in my head?

SIMPSON:           Yeah, you’ll regain your vision in a second, son. Just think of one to select it. Flatwoods or Morgantown.

ZAX:                       Testing location chosen. Deploying crates. Do your best, Candidate.

JOHNS:                 What happens now?

BISHOP:               It’s Flatwoods. Think of a spot on the map and let’s all go there.

JOHNS:                 How?

BECKETT:             You just picture the map and select the deployment location. But hurry up…

SIMPSON:           Hope my virtual knees hold out. I’d give my right arm for a comfy rocking chair and not doing a gosh darned thing for the rest of my life.

JOHNS:                 But how do I…

SIMPSON:           Hold on honey! I’ve got you.

ZAX:                       A deployment location has been chosen for you.

BECKETT:             Ah shit! You both are way the hell over at New River Gorge Resort. Usually, we deploy by the lighthouse so we’re all together. Stay frosty those red dots are all around you.

JOHNS:                 What is…

SFX: WHOOSHING

BISHOP:               Hold tight pal! We’ll make our way over to you. Find a weapon, any weapon…and stay out of sight!

SIMPSON:           Oh dear!

JOHNS:                 Whoooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

SFX: FALLING THROUGH AIR.

SFX: SMASH OF CABIN ROOF. BODY THUD.

SCENE 5: INT. WHITESPRING – NIGHT

SFX: CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYING.

SFX: DOORS KICKED OPEN.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Well heyyyyyyyy look at this place! Almost makes me want to shower.

PATSY:                  Like right? It’s like the Ratz Carlton. Pretty swanky. Best I’ve been able to steal are the ashtrays.

1. HANDY: Good evening ma’am. Can I help you?

ATOMIC ALICE:  Oh, pardon eh mois flying trash can we’re here to make a party for two. Here’s some batteries. Keep the change.

SFX: THROW AND CLANG OF BATTERIES.

1. HANDY: (scoffs) Name please? The Whitespring Resort is currently open by invitation only per order of The Duke.

ATOMIC ALICE:  I’m the Lady Atomic Alice and this here is my friend Duchess Parker. MOLL-E is outside plugging in for a recharge. Where’s the bar?

1. HANDY: Those names are NOT in my registry.

ATOMIC ALICE:  You sure about that octo-arms? Maybe you got some cobwebs in your capacitors?

PATSY:                  Ugh I hate these robots. Let’s just go. We can drive a golf cart through the window.

1. HANDY: My databanks are FINE, ma’am.

ATOMIC ALICE:  You sure about that?

1. HANDY: YES!

PATSY:                  Maybe you could like, check with a manager.

1. HANDY: FINE. Please stand by.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Quick! Look at the guest book. Pick a name.

PATSY:                  Lady Jane Pottle. That sounds like a perfume for old people. Groddy.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Look! An Alice. That one’s mine.

1. HANDY: Ahem. I have checked with management and there is no record of either of those names.

ATOMIC ALICE:  What names?

1. HANDY: Lady Atomic Alice and Duchess Parker.

PATSY:                  Those aren’t our names!

ATOMIC ALICE:  Yeah, who even are those people?

PATSY:                  Like I’m Lady Jane Pottle.

ATOMIC ALICE:  And I’m Dame Alice Froman.

1. HANDY: You’re Alice Froman?

ATOMIC ALICE:  Sure. Whatever.

1. HANDRY: The Fasnacht Sausage Queen of Helvetia?

ATOMIC ALICE:  That’s me. Don’t ask what’s in it.

1. HANDY: Those names are on my list. Welcome to the Whitespring Resort.

SFX: WALKING

ATOMIC ALICE:  (laughs) Can you believe we got away with that? Now where’s that whack job that got you kicked out of here? Let’s rain on his snotty ass parade.

PATSY:                  Hey! Where is everyone?

1. HANDY: Lord Damon Toon is currently hosting a Bachelor Ball Charity Auction to benefit the Aristocracy Land Reclamation fund in the Whitespring Theater. Downstairs to your left and at the end of the hall.

ATOMIC ALICE:  The whoseee whateee?

1. HANDY: Aristocracy Land Reclamation fund. The reacquisition of Whitespring Resort property that was sold off prior to the Great War. The Duke is most interested in particular lands.

PATSY:                  Like where’s this Duke?

1. HANDY: The Duke is quite busy and rarely ventures beyond the penthouse.

PATSY:                  That’s upstairs?

ATOMIC ALICE:  Forget that posh incel, let’s go buy us a hot date, take him out in the middle of the Ash Heap, rob him, strip him and leave him for dead. (laughs) Can you imagine if we owned this place?

SFX: STAIRS.

PATSY:                  So like you’ve been all over the place? I’d love to ditch this dump and hit the road.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Yeah! You name it. Boston, D.C., the Jersey Shore. Spent some time in Delaware, but that place was so boring no one even bothered to drop a nuke on it. Whole place is filled with cannibals though.

PATSY:                  Not to be rude but why in the hell would you come back to this place?

ATOMIC ALICE:  One thing you learn out there Double P is that you can ride that road until it ends, but you never quite leave home. Besides…I’m still trying to find my Old Man who ditched us so I can put a bullet between his eyes. Speaking of what’s up that old creep Willy not dying?

PATSY:                  Oh God…who even knows. I guess we can’t die or something.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Interesting. How’s that work?

PATSY:                  Something Vault-Tec did when our parents were checked into 76. Moose tried to explain it to me a few times and all I heard was blah blah science blah. I’ve been too bored to care.

ATOMIC ALICE:  It’s pretty domestic over there. That Chad guy playing house Dad like some old holotape serial. All he needed was a stupid Dog and a white picket fence.

PATSY:                  You have NO idea. Can’t leave this place, so we might as well rule it.

SFX: CLAPPING.

DAMON:              …do I hear 1,500 caps? I have 1,500 caps! 2,000? 2,000 caps ladies and gentlemen for this strapping regal gentleman with his own steamboat CAMP with 50,000 caps worth of legendary legacies. Let’s go people, that land won’t buy itself.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Let’s grab a seat this will be hilarious. Hey! Handy! Pass me that champagne.

1. HANDY: Here you go ma’am. That’ll be 15 caps.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Put it on my tab jazz hands.

SFX: CHAIRS SQUEEK.

DAMON:              Let’s not be stingy with those caps. Lord or Lady, this discerning dandy is happy with whatever side you butter that crumpet on. There we go! We have 2,000 from Lord Simeon. Going once, twice….and we have a match made in gold bullion heaven!

ATOMIC ALICE:  Woooooo! Send us photos afterward! (laughs)

PATSY:                  Ugh…that dude is such a barf bag. Who’d even pay for that? You think with their money he could afford a personal trainer.

DAMON:              Ladies and Lords, we’ve raised 30,000 caps so far for the Aristocracy Land Reclamation Fund! Let’s see what Full Drip Daddy…what Money Bag Mister is up next up for the posh regal date of your dreams! Give it up for Fritz!

MEDIA: FUNKY MUSIC.

FRITZ:                    Cheerio suckers! My name’s Fritz and I’m a trust fund playah from East Hampton! I’ve never worked a day in my life, have all my own teeth and only own clean variant clothing! I putt a mean green on the links, have a clean million caps in the stash and as my Daddy used to say, death is a preferable alternative to peasantry! No offense Cap rich Daddy’s, this Fritz is looking for a post Cotillion Queen only!

PATSY:                  Now THIS is a man. I could show him how to spend those caps alright.

ATOMIC ALICE:  He just needs to be knocked down a peg or two. Something familiar about him though…

DAMON:              More golden words were never spoken. We’ve rounded up some of your burning questions for this rolling in it Romeo. What is your favorite hobby?

FRITZ:                    I live for the driving range, putting ghoul heads right on down the fairway. But truth be told I enjoy a good Peasant Polo match like the next fellah. I remember last year’s heritage game against the Gold Rush Grifters, man that was the tops right there. I may have bet too much on Lord Poofy for the win though. (laugh)

PATSY:                  Pssst. What’s Peasant Polo?

1. HANDY: Peasant Polo is derived from the world’s oldest known team sport in which the Lord’s and Lady’s ride piggy-back on peasants with slave collars. Scoring is achieved when the ball is malleted through the opposing team’s peasant pyramid goal.

ATOMIC ALICE:  I’m liking this place already.

DAMON:              Tell us King, where would you take your Queen on your date?

FRITZ:                    Well Damon, our first stop would be the Whitespring Spa of course for a candlelit his and hers massage while we share stories of our best gear trades in which we hosed a clueless peasant for maximum profit. Then, after getting our slipped disks fixed up with some Stimpaks, we’ll take a carriage ride over to the Theatre 76’s Royal Shakespeare Theater to take in their stage production of Hamlet with a quiet little dinner for two. We’d wrap up the evening under the stars, sipping on the finest 2076 vintage Lead Champagne while watching low levels die from radiation poisoning.

SFX: CLAPPING.

DAMON:              Be still my beating cap stash! What do you say ladies? Why don’t we start the bidding at 1,500 caps! No, Lord Alexander I said ladies…it’s his party…no…don’t give me that face. Fix up that mole on your face and call me. I have 1,500 caps!

ATOMIC ALICE:  2,500 caps! (laughs)

DAMON:              Whoooaaaa! We’re at 2,500! Do I hear 3,000?

PATSY:                  What are you doing?

ATOMIC ALICE:  Buying you a hot date.

PATSY:                  Oh mah gerd stop! We’re gonna get caught!

DAMON:              3,000 caps! Do I hear 3,500???

ATOMIC ALICE:  Hey Fritz! Turn around! Let them eat cake! (Laughs) We need to see what we’re buying.

PATSY:                  I have never been more embarrassed.

DAMON:              We have 3,500!!! Do I hear 4,000 caps ladies?

ATOMIC ALICE:  Geez Double P, calm down…you turn any redder they’ll shoot you for a blood tick. Okay fine. 10,000 caps final offer!

PATSY:                  OH MY GOD!?! You don’t have that much…

DAMON:              WHOOOOAAAA! 10,000 caps! Going once, twice…sold to…whatever the hell outfit you call that. (Whispers to the side) Who is that anyway? She looks like a dumpster diver.

SFX: CLAPPING.

PATSY:                  Let’s GO! We need to get out of here!

ATOMIC ALICE:  Nah, come on. Let’s go collect your man.

SFX: CREAKY SEATS. WALKING.

FRITZ:                    Bone jour my fine mademoiselle.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Slow your roll there chief. You’re a hand me down.

PATSY:                  Charmed…you’re sure?

ATOMIC ALICE:  Did you just curtsy? You’re killing me P. You’re killing me.

FRITZ:                    Might I say you’re looking lovely this evening.

PATSY:                  Like…thanks! You uhhh…seen any good peasants lately?

ATOMIC ALICE:  Sister we have got to work on your openers.

FRITZ:                    No, no, she’s fine. Clearly you come from good breeding Lady?

PATSY:                  Pottle. Parker. Lady Jane Plarker.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Oh my God…

FRITZ:                    The pleasure is all mine.

SFX: KISS.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Who kisses a hand? You afraid she’s got the Scorched or something?

FRITZ:                    What's the world coming to these days? Hasn't anyone heard of etiquette?

PATSY:                  Like I know…so many peasants around with their dirty fur suits or stinky power armor. It’s like, come on.

FRITZ:                    Quite, quite. Back in my day, the world wasn’t such a fucking disaster! These days its just young punks trampling on my golf course. It’s like…

PATSY:                  It’s like…

FRITZ:                    …if you make less than 100,000 caps you’re who even are you?

PATSY:                  …if you make less than 100,000 caps you’re who even are you?

FRITZ:                    You…

PATSY:                  You…you get me..

ATOMIC ALICE:  Okay. Urge to vomit rising.

DAMON:              Well curl my penny loafers…I thought I recognized you. Did you get lost on the way to the Ash Heap?

PATSY:                  Umm…excuse me, I’m busy flirting with this hottie with a fat cap stash, so can I like ignore you another time? Kay bye.

DAMON:              Oh! DROLSHANKA! Hold my peek-a-boo cat backpack! I’d like to help this trash out. Which way did you come in kitten?

ATOMIC ALICE:  Hey! Don’t insult her.

DAMON:              Oh I’m not insulting her…I’m describing you. You’ve got cat breath. Meow.

ATOMIC ALICE:  What did you just say?

PATSY:                  Oh shit…no…Alice…come on…

ATOMIC ALICE:  I’m going to rearrange your face! Get off me!

FRITZ:                    Why don’t we…leave…

DAMON:              Shut up Fritz, everyone knows you’re a raider in golf clothing.

FRITZ:                    What makes you…I mean oh! I shall not stand for this besmirching of my good family name!

ATOMIC ALICE:  Come over here! I want to feed you a mini nuke!

DAMON:              Not so fast! Where’s the 10,000 caps?!

PATSY:                  Go! Go!

FRITZ:                    Well hang on here…I can’t just..

PATSY:                  I will rock your world.

FRITZ:                    Good enough for me. RUN!

ATOMIC ALICE:  Hey Damon!

DAMON:              What?

ATOMIC ALICE:  Pocket sand!

DAMON:              Oh! My eyes! You bitch.

PATSY:                  Yeahhh! Gooooo!

SFX: RUNNING.

DAMON:              DROLSHANKA! Activate these stupid robots! What? What do you mean they don’t do anything unless you punch them?! What kind of security do we have in this place! This isn’t over! No one upstages Damon Toon!

SFX: SLAM DOOR OPEN.

1. HANDY: Thank you for visiting the Whitespring Resort.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Get bent! (laughs)

SFX: RUNNING ON ASHPHALT THEN GRASS.

FRITZ:                    (Panting) That was…

ATOMIC ALICE:  Just like the old days? Thought I remembered you. You used to run with us back in the day! You’re Clank’s kid. It’s me Little Alice!

FRITZ:                    Little Alice? Heyyyyyy! Yeah! I remember now. You’ve changed so much! What gave me away?

ATOMIC ALICE:  You literally have a huge black smudge across your face and a mohawk. Not many posh types rocking that combo.

FRITZ:                    Kids these days…so presumptuous (laughs). Come on, I’ll show you where I’ve been crashing.

PATSY:                  Is it…a big place?

FRITZ:                    It’s uhh…great location on the driving range.

ATOMIC ALICE:  It’s the driving range booth isn’t it?

FRITZ:                    Yeah…

PATSY:                  Oh. Well that’s okay…you’ve got like money though right?

FRITZ:                    Hell yeah. I’ve been stealing caps from these fools for months and pulling some side hustles. Those posh twats will buy into any dumb speculative idea.

PATSY:                  What about the Golf Club? That place would make an epic raider base.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Now you’re talking Double P. Some swanky base…we find some plebs to boss around, build up our ranks…and then when we’re ready….

PATSY:                  We take the Whitespring and run those uppity Aristocrats right out the door and into the nearest fissure.

FRITZ:                    Golf Club? Noooooo…you don’t want that action A. Place is crawling with ferals and one pissed off wendigo. I made the mistake of wandering in there once and had to hide out on top of the bus until they went away.

ATOMIC ALICE:  Nice! I could use a little action.

FRITZ:                    Saddle up, we need to cut through the parking lot. But watch out for the cars….we don’t want to…

SFX: CHAIN REACTION EXPLOSIONS.

PATSY:                  (Screaming) Ahhhhhhh! My hair!

ATOMIC ALICE:  Whoooooooooo! BOOOOOOMMMMMM! WAKEY WAKEY WHITESPRING! Let’s make some noise!

FRITZ:                    What have I gotten myself into?

SCENE 6: EXT. VAULT 51 – NIGHT

SFX: CRICKETS. BRUSH MOVES.

ARCHIVIST:         Vault 51…I knew it. Guards in power armor…just great.

BALDRICK:           Sir…I’m not sure (short circuit) …ssssss sure those spot repairs will be sufficient.

ARCHIVIST:         Brave steel heart Baldrick! They’re good enough. Hacking isn’t exactly my forte and I’m going to need you in there. With any luck we can find a robot repair kit in there. Oh! Shhh…get down!

SFX: FOOTSTEPS APPROACH.

GUARD #1:          You seen that new VT-16?

GUARD #2:          Yeah, some of the other guys were telling me about it. They say it’s…it’s quite a thing to see.

BALDRICK:           (sparks) Little forks, yes please!

ARCHIVIST:         Damn.

GUARD #1:          What was that?

GUARD #2:          Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.

GUARD #1:          Hey, you remember when we used to just be patrolling and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, cans of meat stew from Mama Dolce’s would just get thrown at you out of nowhere. Like…right at your head. And you’re like, who did that? And there was never anyone there?

GUARD #2:          Yeah?

GUARD #1:          That was weird.

GUARD #2:          Yeah that was weird.

GUARD #1:          Then one day it just stopped.

GUARD #2:          Yeah…

GUARD #1:          Good times.

GUARD #2:          Yeah, good times.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

ARCHIVIST:         Phew close one there. Entrance is too heavily guarded…but there…what is that? Access hatch?

BALDRICK:           Scans indicate subterranean access point.

ARCHIVIST:         Their backs are turned. Let’s book it!

SFX: RUNNING. HATCH OPENED.

ARCHIVIST:         Quickly now!

BALDRICK:           Bit stuffy in here.

ARCHIVIST:         Down we go!

SFX: HATCH CLOSED. LADDER RUNG CLANGS.

ARCHIVIST:         Interesting…

SFX: DOOR SLIDES OPEN

BALDRICK:           It appears to be a backdoor entrance perhaps?

ARCHIVIST:         Unusual…Vault-Tec wasn’t exactly known for building those. Most every vault I’ve ever seen has one way in, one way out.

1. CLARK: Oh, a visitor! I thought this day would never come! I haven't had a visitor in ages. Welcome to the Appalachian Shelters Claim Center, visitor.

ARCHIVIST:         Hello there. Shelters Claim Center?

1. CLARK: I'm called Mr. Clark. It's my job to help eager new customers such as yourself take your first step into the miraculous world of Shelters!

ARCHIVIST:         Oh good grief…a spam bot. Whatever you’re selling I’m not buying. Come on Baldrick.

1. CLARK: Oh...I thought I'd finally found a customer. (Sigh) If you change your mind please return at your leisure. The Shelters Claim Center is always open.

BALDRICK:           I’ve scanned the room. There appear to be no other enter or exit points.

ARCHIVIST:         Ventilation shaft?

BALDRICK:           Negative sir.

ARCHIVIST:         Hmmm…explosives?

BALDRICK:           I wouldn’t recommend it. There’s several hundred feet of dirt and concrete. Instability in the strata would likely bring the mountainside down on us.

ARCHIVIST:         You there. What do you know about Vault 51?

51. CLARK: Vault 51...I don't know much about it, I'm afraid. The Vault was sealed along with the others in Appalachia, but only one person ever emerged.

ARCHIVIST:         Someone escaped? When?

1. CLARK: Oh…let me see…a few years ago now.

ARCHIVIST:         One of the original dwellers?

51. CLARK: Perhaps? Mr. Gill. He lived here for a while observing Vault 51. Something inside interested him. I believe he was investigating…

SFX: SPARKS. BUZZING.

1. CLARK: I'm sorry, most of my memories regarding Vault 51 are corrupted. I think Mr. Gill kept notes on the Claim Center terminal, if you'd like to know more.

ARCHIVIST:         Hmmm…let’s have a look see. Might be some information on what they have cooking in there.

SFX: TYPING.

BALDRICK:           Anything useful sir?

ARCHIVIST:         Looks like the sales staff were in here back at the start of the Great War and were trapped. Waited it out a few months trying to find ways to get into Vault 51. They couldn’t gain access to the internal network to get help. Mr…Clark was it? There’s a locked entry here from a Reuben. Is that Mr. Gill?

1. CLARK: Yes indeed. Mr. Rueben Gill. He was able to……my network was recently used to…Ah, it seems I can't remember exactly what caused it *nervous laugh* But rest assured, Candida- (sparks) -visitor, memory issues notwithstanding, I'm eager to help usher you into the world of Shelters!

BALDRICK:           Sir, there appears to be a locked crate over here.

ARCHIVIST:         Did that belong to Mr. Gill?

1. CLARK: It did indeed.

ARCHIVIST:         Do you have the key to it?

1. CLARK: I'm afraid not. Mr. Gill was quite paranoid about things like that. He kept his effects in a locked safe, and always carried the key on him. If he wrote down the password he likely locked it in there. Mr. Gill left quite some time ago now for some supplies….and…

ZAX:                       Candidate Gill did not return…

1. CLARK: not return…was I saying something?

BALDRICK:           Sir…there appears to be something quite wrong with Mr. Clark.

1. CLARK: Have you registered as a new shelter owner yet? Shelters are the latest innovation from Future-Tec.

ARCHIVIST:         Yes. Not interested. Not buying.

1. CLARK: But they’re free! A gift from the Vault-Tec Corporation for a limited time. A marvelous new world of home expansion awaits! Shelters are the homes of the future, perfect for post-apocalyptic living. Simply attach this device to our uniquely designed doors and have access to a unique interior space, safe from the outside universe. We have already distributed several to new homeowners recently.

ARCHIVIST:         What on Earth…Baldrick analyze this.

BALDRICK:           Getting some…unusual readings from the device.

ARCHIVIST:         You’re saying I attach this to, for all intents and purposes, a door…a door attached to nothing and can access what exactly?

1. CLARK: Your new shelter exactly like the one you are standing in now.

ARCHIVIST:         Safe from the universe? You mean outside space/time? Like a pocket dimension?

BALDRICK:           Sir, I am detecting graviton particle emissions. Supposition, device creates a quantum level instance of relative spacetime.

ARCHIVIST:         That is…both marvelous and terrifying. Let’s experiment with this later Baldrick. As for now…Baldrick…going to need your assistance.

BALDRICK:           Brute force access sir?

ARCHIVIST:         Smash away.

BALDRICK:           Connecting auxiliary port to terminal. Please stand by…

1. CLARK: What are you doing?

ARCHIVIST:         We’re on a tight schedule here…

1. CLARK: You’re hacking the terminal! That is against…

ZAX:                       access to this terminal has now been disabled for Overseer Candidates with Rank 1 Overseer Access.

BALDRICK:           Decryption in progress…exterior network connection is active…something is accessing this network…

ZAX:                       Candidate, you have violated Vault-Tec security protocols. You should not have done that.

SFX: FLAME THROWER AND BLADE SPIN.

ARCHIVIST:         Oh dear.

SFX: LASER FIRE.

1. CLARK: Would you like to hear about our new shelter?

ZAX:                       This test has begun. There are many candidates unfit for survival, purge them.

ARCHIVIST:         BALDRICK! How’s it coming back there??!?!

BALDRICK:           Terminal unlocked.

ARCHIVIST:         Shut down the external connection! Hurry!

SFX: SMASHING. LASER FIRE.

BALDRICK:           I am detecting a remote connection to Mr. Clark…tracing…tracing…the connection is coming from Vault 51.

ARCHIVIST:         Just close it!

BALDRICK:           Mr. Clark will be irreparably damaged if I disconnect.

ARCHIVIST:         JUST DO IT BALDRICK!

SFX: EXPLOSION OF CIRCUITS.

1. CLARK: (damage…stuttering) The Shelters Claim Center is always open.

ARCHIVIST:         Well that was…exciting. Phew…now let’s see what was worth all that.

SFX: TYPING.

ARCHIVIST:         Hmmm…looks like this Gill escaped from Vault 51 and thought this was a Vault-Tec control center. He was able to use Mr. Clark’s internal network to hack his way back in, but unfortunately…some doors open both ways. But he…oh dear, it appears that Vault 51 wasn’t fully automated. Controlled by a Vault-Tec ZAX Supercomputer. That could prove…useful.

BALDRICK:           I think we just met it. But none of this is helpful in terms of getting in there sir. What are we going to do? Go in through the front door guns blazing? There’s only two of us…they’d make short work of us.

ARCHIVIST:         Baldrick…that is EXACTLY what we’re going to do. And I know just the person to do it. Come on old friend, back to the Vertibird. We have a party to go to.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE. DOOR SLIDES OPEN AND CLOSES.

MEDIA: TRANSITION MUSIC.

SCENE 7: EXT. NUCLEAR WINTER SIMULATION – DAY

SFX: TINNITUS NOISE. STATIC IS HEARD OVER BIRDSONG AND WIND.

BISHOP:               …Johns…Johns…come in. Can you hear me?

SIMPSON:           Wake up son! We need to start moving!

BECKETT:             I’ve got a crate here. Who needs a weapon?

SIMPSON:           I’ve got a rolling pin. Grammie is ready to rumble! Say…we need a team name.

BISHOP:               I hardly think that…

SIMPSON:           I’ve got it…the Getalong Gang. Because we best get hustling.

BISHOP:               Chase that tail Grannie S. I’ve got a small supply crate here.

BECKETT:             Grannie, Johns…stay put…see if you can find crates on the ground. They’re virtual spawn caches. You need armor, Stims, any weapon. Then just find a spot to hide out. We’re headed your way now. Beckett out.

JOHNS:                 I honestly have no idea what’s going on.

SIMPSON:           Over here son! Right in this little blue crate.

JOHNS:                 10mm submachine gun, about 60 rounds…Stimpak and wood armor. Why don’t you take the…

SIMPSON:           I’m good! This old board is good enough for me. I’m not playing this game. Oh I swing her around if I need to. Call it the Sugar Cookie. (laughs)

JOHNS:                 Fair enough.

SFX: CLATTER OF WOOD ARMOR.

JOHNS:                 Come on…let’s see if we can find anything else. Stay low…and…Jesus Christ…

SFX: FOOTSTEPS ON DECK. STAIRS. GRASS.

SIMPSON:           Oh…yes…quite something isn’t it? We’re in Appalachia…but not today, not tomorrow…the future. You kids…thinking dropping nukes was fun.

JOHNS:                 That’s…my god…I’ve never seen flames that high…

SIMPSON:           When they first dropped me in here, I overheard one of the old timers talking who’d do almost 100 matches talking. When ZAX created this place…this mouse maze…he said it was based on what will happen if we don’t change. And that’s why I’m not fighting. It’s why you all should stop…in here…out there…like before it always ends the same way.

JOHNS:                 Come on…let’s head over to that cabin there.

SFX: GRASS.

BECKETT:             Johns where are you at. It’s slow going here…

BISHOP:               EAT MY FIST OF JUSTICE! Death has come for you sweaty girl with the incongruous voice of a truck driver, for I am its shroud!

SFX: POWER FIRST PUNCH. BLOOD SPLATTER.

BECKETT:             We…ran into some randos.

BISHOP:               Got a Nuke Code!

JOHNS:                 We’re just south of the New River Gorge main hall. Heading over to one of the cabins.

BECKETT:             Keep your eyes peeled for any Prototype Stealth Boys…hoard as much as you can carry. Beckett out.

SFX: STEPS. BUZZING.

JOHNS:                 Bloatfly!

SFX: GOO FLIES BY.

SIMPSON:           Oh I know just what they like! You want a little SUGAR COOKIE! YEAHHHHHHH!

SFX: SMACKING. IT EXPLODES.

JOHNS:                 Not bad Grannie, not bad.

SIMPSON:           Oh my sciatica!

SFX: GUNSHOTS.

JOHNS:                 Ah shit. Inside!

SFX: RUNNING ON WOOD.

JOHNS:                 Laundry room. In here! Down!

SFX: GUNSHOTS

SIMPSON:           They’re close. Best stay here until they move away.

SFX: PIPBOY MAP

SIMPSON:           We’re going to need to move to the next cabin to stay out of the ring of fire. It’ll moving…closes in on you.

JOHNS:                 What?

SIMPSON:           It drives us all slowly towards each other, herding us like cattle.

JOHNS:                 That’s monstrous.

SFX: GUNSHOTS DISTANT.

SIMPSON:           And how’ve you been hmmm? You and…what was her name? Kori! That’s it.

JOHNS:                 She’s…fine.

SIMPSON:           Nice girl. Real nice.

JOHNS:                 Yeah.

SIMPSON:           Oh don’t worry…I’m sure she’ll come looking for you.

JOHNS:                 We had an argument…that was almost a year ago now. I had something I had to do, for myself as much as her. I just…left a note and took off.

SIMPSON:           Something you had to do…hmmm…you know when my George was little…he’d butt heads with his father something fierce. At that age you always want to be like your Dad, but sometimes you’re a little too much like him…and him like you. Well, there would be a big blowout and he’d always run off…same spot…little hidey hole above the barn. So, I’d go out with a cookie…always to smooth things over, get him to come back and apologize. I’d always ask him why he ran, and he’d just shrug and munch away. I blinked one day, and he was taller, and I thought someone played a trick on me because I was so much smaller. Time is a funny thing and for all it changes, there’s plenty still the same. Same arguments, same place I’d find him. He was headed to Anchorage, signed up without telling us…didn’t even wait for the draft. Oh, his father was furious, but George was proud, headstrong. He was sitting up there, dust coming in through cracks in the boards, his uniform…I can still see it, smell it…his buttons shining in the last light that day…cookie crumbs drifting down. I asked him why he ran and that time he finally told me. He looked at me and said, “because I was wrong and it’s easier to run than admit it.”

SFX: SILENCE. FIRE RAGING. WIND BLOWING.

JOHNS:                 I…don’t know if I can go back now and face her.

SIMPSON:           Make the time. Because time doesn’t wait…(sadly) my little George. That was the last time we saw him. Waving at the airport, a sea of people swallowing him up. We both blinked, just for one second, and he was gone.

JOHNS:                 I’m sorry.

SIMPSON:           It was a long time ago now.

SFX: GUNSHOTS CLOSER.

TIFFANY:              OH SWEET! ALICE LOOK! MARINE ARMOR! LET’S GO HUNT BUSH WHOOKIES! THERE’S ONE! STAB HIM IN THE CAKE! HE THICCCCCC!

SFX: RUNNING.

JOHNS:                 Shit! They’re circling around. Come on…out the front…let’s cut across to the other cabin.

SIMPSON:           Right behind you!

SFX: GUNSHOTS.

TIFFANY:              HEYYYYY! HIIII! REMEMBER ME! TIFFANY!

JOHNS:                 Go to hell Tiffany!

SFX: MACHINE GUN FIRE.

TIFFANY:              YOU’RE SO VILE! I LOVE IT!

SIMPSON:           The doors blocked!

JOHNS:                 Circle around to the back…there’s got to be a way in.

TIFFANY:              GET HIM ALICE!

JOHNS:                 No.

SFX: MACHINE GUN FIRE.

TIFFANY:              ALICE IS DOWN! SORRY ALICE! I’M OUT OF STIMPAKS! HEY WAIT RIGHT THERE! I’M GOING TO GET SOME MORE AMMO AND SHOOT YOU IN THE FACE! WHEEEEEE! BE RIGHT BACK OKAY BYEEEEEEEE!

SFX: RUNNING.

JOHNS:                 Crazy bitch…

SIMPSON:           Underneath here! The floor collapsed. Come on son!

BECKETT:             Johns, Johns you there? Saw your health falling.

JOHNS:                 Tiffany and Alice. I got Alice.

BECKETT:             Whooaaa! Look at you! First blood. Congrats!

BISHOP:               We’re circling up behind the Overseer’s Camp and making our way up to you now. Hold tight pal!

BECKETT:             Our numbers are falling fast…only 14 of us left now. Aeternus and his boys are cleaning up. Fucking hate being in a match with him.

JOHNS:                 Is it random?

BECKETT:             52 of us in total to start…don’t know how many of us are trapped in here though. Sometimes it’s the same people, sometimes not…could be double that number in pods or hundreds.

SIMPSON:           Up here!

JOHNS:                 We’re too open in here…upstairs! We can barricade ourselves in the bedroom.

BECKETT:             Ah shit…

SFX: GUNFIRE.

BISHOP:               It’s that Aussie!

AETERNUS:         Get fucked!

BISHOP:               Ah! I’m down! Get me up! Get me up!

SFX: GUNFIRE.

BECKETT:             Got problems of my own over here!

ABRAHAM:         You are weak! You’re all weak!

AETERNUS:         You got him mate! You got him! Circle round.

BISHOP:               Wait! Wait! No!

SFX: GUNFIRE.

JOHNS:                 Bishop?! Bishop!

BECKETT:             He’s gone. Son of a bitch!

SFX: EXPLOSIONS.

ABRAHAM:         A failed effort. I am going to eat your face Beckett…

BECKETT:             I’m out of ammo!

AETERNUS:         Finish him off mate.

BECKETT:             No! Johns! Wait it out! You’ve got this.

JOHNS:                 Wait we’re coming!

BECKETT:             Too late.

SFX: STRUGGLE. SLASHING.

JOHNS:                 Beckett? Answer me!

SIMPSON:           It’s okay son. We’ll see them back in the lobby.

AETERNUS:         Remember my promise. We’ll save you for last if you make it that long. See you soon mate. Come on boys.

JOHNS:                 Get back in the corner!

SFX: FOOTSTEPS.

TIFFANY:              HALLLOOOOOO!? ANYONE HOME! COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE!

SIMPSON:           That girl needs to be on some meds…

JOHNS:                 Shhhh…

TIFFANY:              ONE, TWO BUCKLE MY SHOE! THREE, FOUR ON THE FLOOR!, FIVE, SIX..CLIMB UP STEPS!

SFX: STAIRS CREAK.

JOHNS:                 Wait…the roof….there’s a hole in the roof. I’m going to drop on her. Stay in the corner…make just a little noise.

SIMPSON:           If you say so…

SFX: SCRAMBLE ON ROOF.

SFX: STEPS CLOSER.

TIFFANY:              Hey! You all want see this sweet minigun I found?  MINIGUN GO BRRRRRRRRRRRR! (insane laugh) DON’T CAMP! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO PLAY!

SFX: WOOD KICKED.

TIFFANY:              Oh there you are! HI!

SFX: MINIGUN SPINS UP.

JOHNS:                 Now!

SFX: JUMP. SMASH. SCUFFLES AND PUNCHES.

TIFFANY:              OW! YOU PUNCHED MY CAT FACE! MEOW!

JOHNS:                 DIE. JUST DIE ALREADY!

SFX: GUNSHOTS. MINIGUN FIRES.

SIMPSON:           (Screams) Ohhh!

TIFFANY:              This….isn’t how you play… (Death rattle)

SFX: BODY FALLS.

JOHNS:                 Grammie…you okay?

SIMPSON:           She nicked me…it’s okay…not finished me yet! Just need a Stim.

JOHNS:                 Come on…lean on me…we need to move. Firestorm is almost here.

SIMPSON:           You having fun yet? (Laughs weakly)

JOHNS:                 Oh yeah…a real blast….

SFX: FOOTSTEPS ON STAIRS.

MEDIA: TRANSITION MUSIC.

END OF PART 1

BEGINNING OF PART 2

SCENE 8: INT. RUSTY PICK – NIGHT

SFX: CARD SHUFFLING. CLINKING OF BEER BOTTLES.

BROOKS:              Make sure those are properly shuffled. If we’re playing for caps and legendries, you’d better not stack the deck.

CHAD:                   Firstly, I know how to shuffle. Secondly, don’t ever accuse me of cheating in my house.

BROOKS:              Hey we’re cool! I’m just busting your chops.

CHAD:                   An eight. An Ace. A Queen. And it’s a four for the Chad.

PUNCH:                Uhhhhhh…go fish.

CHAD:                   No, no dude. This is poker.

PUNCH:                Poke Mama?

MAMA:                (Incoherent mumbling)

PUNCH:                Mama say she kill all us if we poke her.

MAMA:                (Incoherent mumbling)

BROOKS:              Yeah…still don’t understand what the hell that thing is, but she looks like a wad of old bandages. Are we playin’ or what?

CHAD:                   Poker dude…not fish. Look at your cards there…if you like your hand, you wager a bet.

PUNCH:                Punch hand bigger and greener. Punch win. YEAHHHHHHHHH!

CHAD:                   (laughs) No dude…your hand is cards. Where’s Moose anyway? He’s missing his chance to pocket some caps.

PUNCH:                Moose clean up still outside with silly robot Beev. Tell Punch go play.

RAZORHANDLE: If someone doesn’t do something soon I am going to just drop a grenade so we all can move on.

BROOKS:              Cool it, cool it. Come on dude. Are you in or out? Bet or deal.

PUNCH:                Punch want more card.

BROOKS:              No bet for me.

RAZORHANDLE: Keep em’ comin’.

MAMA:                (Mumbles incoherently)

PUNCH:                Mama want drink. Here go.

MAMA:                (Contented mumbling)

SFX: SLURPING.

BROOKS:              That thing is drinking beer through a rusted mask with a straw…I’m gonna hurl.

RAZORHANDLE: We used to be a real country.

SFX: CARD NOISES.

CHAD:                   A ten. A seven…that sucks. A pair of ladies for Punch bro.

PUNCH:                Punch suck face!

CHAD:                   And it’s a 9 for dealer Chad. Mama Murmurgles or whatever, highest hand is yours, so what are you betting?

MAMA:                (Incoherent mumbling)

PUNCH:                Mama bet 10 caps.

SFX: CAPS CLINK.

BROOKS:              I’m good for 10.

SFX: CAPS TOSSED FROM EVERYONE.

RAZORHANDLE: Yup.

PUNCH:                How many?

CHAD:                   10 dude…

PUNCH:                Uhhh….1…..8…..Z…..uhhhh….cat…

BROOKS:              We are going to be here all night.

CHAD:                   Dealing again. Jack. Four. Deuce and a Six.

MAMA:                (Incoherent mumbling)

PUNCH:                Mama say she bet 20 caps.

CHAD:                   I’ll see 20.

BROOKS:              And I’ll raise you 50 caps.

RAZORHANDLE: 50 caps?

MAMA:                (Mumbles)

PUNCH:                Mama in. What Mama mean in? We already inside?

CHAD:                   I’ll see that bet dude.

RAZORHANDLE: Fine. 50.

SFX: CAPS TOSSED.

CHAD:                   Seven and whoa…maybe a possible straight for Brooks. A Jack. Eight. Nine for the Chad.

MAMA:                (Mumbles)

PUNCH:                Mama say 20 more.

CHAD:                   I’m out. Too rich for my abs.

BROOKS:              Okay, okay…I’ll see your 20 caps and raise you a legacy flame thrower.

SFX: METAL CLATTER.

CHAD:                   Whoa…holy shit dude…

RAZORHANDLE: Okay I’m out.

PUNCH:                Punch get more cards?

CHAD:                   Nah dude…let me see. Uhhh… (whispers) you got nothing here dude. I’d fold.

PUNCH:                What Punch fold? Table um cloth?

CHAD:                   (sighs) He’s out.

MAMA:                (Mumbles incoherently)

PUNCH:                Mama say she match and also do legacy uhhh….gatterling plasma and pickle jar.

BROOKS:              Is…is that a person’s head in a jar? What the…okay, okay…and 1,000 caps more.

RAZORHANDLE: There’s no way you have a straight boss.

MAMA:                (Mumbles incoherently)

PUNCH:                Mama say bring it bitch. She match.

CHAD:                   Let’s see what you got Brooks.

BROOKS:              Ah son of a…take it! Take it! Damn it…that thing shouldn’t even have been playing. With that gas mask thing on her bloated face she could probably smell my bluff. Christ knows I can smell everything else about her.

CHAD:                   Come on dude…you played. You lost fair. Don’t talk to her like that. We’re all family here.

BROOKS:              No, no…this is bullshit! We’re gonna go again!

RAZORHANDLE: Brooks…

BROOKS:              And that mutant can wait the hell outside…

SFX: CHAIR SQUEEK.

CHAD:                   What did I just say?

SFX: SILENCE. TENSION. DOOR KICKS OPEN.

ARCHIVIST:         CHAD! Hey! Where is everyone!

SFX: FOOTSTEPS.

CHAD:                   Hey…it’s the library….dude…uhhh…Dolos right?

ARCHIVIST:         Yes, yes. No time. Listen the Judge and that District Attorney of his, they’ve got some kind of experiment going on up northeast of the lumber mill.

BROOKS:              Near our place?!

ARCHIVIST:         Who are you?

BROOKS:              I’m Brooks. Who the hell are you?

ARCHIVIST:         I’m…oh never mind. We don’t have a lot of time. They have Commander Johns of the Five-0, Charles Bishop and countless others up there! God knows what he’s doing to them, but it’s NOT good. Now I can deal with security when we get inside, but I need your help to…

CHAD:                   Whoa…slow your roll there big books. I’m not going anywhere.

ARCHIVIST:         What do you mean?

CHAD:                   The kid’s in bed and I’m out. Done. Settled. We’ve got our place. We’ve got some sanity. Whatever bullshit is going on out there, it’s all you. I want no part of it.

ARCHIVIST:         But they are kidnapping people!

CHAD:                   So we setup turrets and lasers on the roof. Let them come for what’s mine. But until they do, if they do…I’m getting off this crazy ass merry go round. For years it’s been nothing but monsters, getting busted, losing our home and oh yeah kicking the crap out of what I’m pretty sure was the Devil. I am finished with all of it.

ARCHIVIST:         I…I can’t believe what I’m hearing…you’re not supposed to…

CHAD:                   Supposed to what?

ARCHIVIST:         (stammering, recovering) Not supposed to just give up fighting because it’s easy. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do. And you can bury your head in the sand my boy and play…poker with your raider friends here…

RAZORHANDLE: Actually we’re Free Radicals…but we also are musicians and…

ARCHIVIST:         Oh shut up…and your bar and your cons and everything else going on here. Because I’ve lived through this before and I can tell you…from EXPERIENCE…that no one, not one person gets to sit on the sidelines. Sooner or later, war comes right up to your front door and kicks it in.

CHAD:                   And when it does, I pity whoever steps over the threshold.

ARCHIVIST:         (furious, breathing) Fine. If you won’t help, I’ll find someone who…

SFX: FLOOD LIGHTS OUTSIDE. CRASHING. SPARKS. EXPLOSIONS. WIND WHIPS THROUGH WINDOWS.

CHAD:                   NOW WHAT?

MOOSE:               Chad! Dude! Help! It’s got me! Let me out of this thing!!

CHAD:                   Moose!

PUNCH:                Wait! Punch help! Punch smash!

SFX: RUNNING OUTSIDE.

SFX: NET CLOSES IN THE DISTANCE AND LIFTS OFF. MOOSE’S SCREAM GO DISTANT.

RAZORHANDLE: I’ve got a shot.

CHAD:                   No damn it! You could hit Moose.

BROOKS:              So what? It’s not like y’all can die…right?

CHAD:                   (ignoring Brooks) Son of a bitch…you did this!

SFX: SCRABBLING ON DIRT. HE SHOVES THE ARCHIVIST AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE TRUCK.

ARCHIVIST:         Hold on! No! No of course not. I was careful. That thing wasn’t following me. HE has drones like that all over Appalachia now.

CHAD:                   Who does?

ARCHIVIST:         ZAX. We monitored them flying out in waves. Tailed one to the Five-0 headquarters…saw a firefight breaking out on my way down here.

CHAD:                   The Judge… (sighs) every single time we get a moment’s peace…

PUNCH:                Where friend go? Where friend?

CHAD:                   Look, Punch you stay here and guard Susie. You hear me? No one…and I mean no one gets in that door. You, Mama and that drunk ass robot Biv barricade the hall.

PUNCH:                Anyone come. Punch smash head into jelly!

CHAD:                   Good man. Brooks, Razorhandle you comin’?

RAZORHANDLE: Sure we’ll…

BROOKS:              …pass on this one. We’ve had a long night.

CHAD:                   You serious?

BROOKS:              Yeah, look we’re trying not to get mixed up too much in things if you get what I mean. And that’s not my rule…that’s Roper’s. Sorry man. I’d love to help if I could.

CHAD:                   (annoyed) Fine. I’ll do it my damned self. You got wheels or something?

ARCHIVIST:         Better.

CHAD:                   No…oh come on dude…last time I was in one of those I got rag dolled into trees.

ARCHIVIST:         It’ll be fine! I’m an excellent pilot. I’ve gotten the knack for her. Besides, Baldrick’s sensors can pick up any issues in our flight path.

CHAD:                   You got a plan?

ARCHIVIST:         Not…exactly. I do for when we get in there. The door is my problem. Judiciary Guard detachment out front and your typical giant, immovable vault door.

CHAD:                   Hmm…I might have something that’ll work. Mama’s been tinkering on something for me. We’ve had it cookin’ for a rainy day. Call it the Bad Bertha…but…you’re not gonna like this. We’re going to need to bring a passenger along.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS. SHED DOOR OPENS.

ARCHIVIST:         No! No! Oh hell no. I am not going to try and fit that in my Vertibird. What happens if it decides to cause a fuss?

SFX: SLOW FADE OUT OF DISTANCE.

RAZORHANDLE: What was that all about?

BROOKS:              We’re pay to play. They don’t pay. We don’t play. Besides, I’m still pretty pissed off about what happened in there with that walking laundry basket. I figure…what better way to vent some homicidal rage than a date.

RAZORHANDLE: Not the twins again Brooks, they breathe through their mouths, and I think they have radworms.

BROOKS:              No, you dolt. We made a promise. You fancy some late night roadhouse food?

RAZORHANDLE: (dawning realization) Yeah…I could go with a stack of pancakes…maybe a side of immolation.

BROOKS:              Come on…let’s paint the Sloe…RED. (laughing maniacally)

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEDE.

SFX: WIND TRANSITION.

SFX: GUNSHOTS. CAR HORNS HONKING.

RADICAL #2:       Up and at ‘em Free Radicals! We’re under attack.

ROPER:                 What the hell is going on out here?

RADICAL #1:       Some kind of bots flying from over there boss! They netted and took Grill, Handles and Minx!

ROPER:                 Why didn’t someone wake me? BROOKS!

RADICAL #2:       They’re not back yet from the Rusty Pick.

ROPER:                 I told them to…I’ll deal with him later. You! Diesel. Head down there and tell them to get their asses back up here. And if they’re not there…you track them. Find them. Well don’t stand there gaping, hoof it!

RADICAL #1:       We got another one coming in.

ROPER:                 Cease fire.

SFX: DRONE FLIES CLOSER.

ROPER:                 That’s right…come on…come right at me sweetie. Closer…..closer….throw the switch!

SFX: SWITCH SPARKS. MISSILE TURRETS COME ONLINE.

ROPER:                 Here’s a little love from Maryland!

SFX: MISSILES LOCK. FIRE. CARGO BOT EXPLODES.

ROPER:                 That should deal with any of those flying bots. Open the gate!

SFX: GATE RATTLES OPEN.

ROPER:                 Where did they head off to?

RADICAL #1:       East – Northeast…that way. We going after them?

ROPER:                 Nope. You all are staying put. We’re not strong enough yet for a fight. I’m going to bring them home. And God help whoever messes with the Free Radicals.

MEDIA: TRANSITION MUSIC.

SCENE 9: INT. RED SLOE DINER – NIGHT

SFX: RADIO IS ON PLAYING MUSIC SOFTLY. DISHES CLATTER. DOOR CHIMES.

AMATA:               Have a good night!

SFX: SIGN IS FLIPPED. DOOR LOCKED.

AMATA:               (sighs)

SFX: FOOTSTEPS TO KITCHEN. DOOR FLIPS OPEN AND SWINGS.

JAKE:                     Did you hear that explosion earlier?

AMATA:               Yeah. A nuke blast, but there was no EBS warning. No sirens. It’s really odd. Best I can determine it was over towards Sugar Grove.

JAKE:                     It’s always something in Appalachia.

AMATA:               Yup.

JAKE:                     (pause, awkwardly) Do you ever miss him?

AMATA:               Who?

JAKE:                     Simon.

AMATA:               No. Fuck NO. You do?

JAKE:                     Sometimes, yeah. I miss the way things used to be.

AMATA:               Have you completely lost your mind? After…well look at you. If you hadn’t put your first through every mirror we have, and looked at yourself, missing him would be the last thing on your mind.

JAKE:                     How did we get here? No one, not one person told us that being an adult would mean your best days, your simplest days were long behind you. Time…it’s like something that one day, just like that…it starts cutting away at you, so grow tougher, calloused…skin thick to the point of not feeling even the barest shadow of who you used to be.

AMATA:               God Jake, we got here because it’s the apocalypse. What else did you think it was going to be like out here? In there a good day was Mr. Malted giving you an extra shake because it was your birthday, or the Overseer was screening your favorite movie with all the popcorn you could eat. Out here a good day is, “well…guess I didn’t get gored to death by a Deathclaw and oh hey look, I came back to life with blueprints to Power Armor I’ll never wear.” In there we LIVED. Out here we SURVIVE.

JAKE:                     That right there is my point. It’s why despite everything I can’t hate him. Because it was an accident and none of us have a clear conscious. You ever stop to think…really think about who we are now and what we’ve done? I killed and ate people, you robbed and murdered people…who we used to be, if looking in the mirror of who we are…would run screaming in the other direction for Vault-Tec security to please…for the love of God…go kill those monsters. You can tell how completely out of touch with reality we are when we’re hurling nukes at each other because we’re bored…all the while singing (sing)

                                                Crazy he calls me

Sure, I'm crazy

Crazy in love am I

AMATA:               No, I don’t stop to think. Because in a survival situation you don’t. You do what you need to do and frankly we sing or hell…have sex and if we’re very lucky we find love…because it’s how we stay sane. Nothing out here is normal. We…are not normal. It’s not right, it’s not fair…it’s what is. And as far as Simon goes, if you remember way back when before we started going to look for those keys and LOOK for more trouble with Vault-Tec.

JAKE:                     I just want things back the way they were.

AMATA:               You keep looking back Jake at what’s behind us, you’re going to fall.

JAKE:                     Whatever.

SFX: AWKWARD SILENCE. WASHING DISHES.

AMATA:               Quiet night tonight.

JAKE:                     Yeah.

AMATA:               I mean…it’s a little unusual. It’s never been this quiet.

JAKE:                     They’re probably all over at Chad’s place. The jackass is going to take most of our business you know. It’s not like there was a lot of us out here to begin with.

AMATA:               Maybe, but I think people will still love a proper restaurant. That place you know is going to be a complete shitshow. Traps in the bathroom…

JAKE:                     Gambling where the Chad always wins…

AMATA:               Food that’s barely food…

JAKE:                     Pole dancing.

AMATA:               (laughing) Pole dancing??

JAKE:                     Yeah…and not even him. I’m talking that big Super Mutant they run around with. (laughing) Imagine that swinging around.

AMATA:               (laughing) MAKE IT RAIN FOR PUNCH. (laughing)

JAKE:                     (laughs more…fades to awkward silence)

AMATA:               (always laugh awkwardly fades) I’m sorry.

JAKE:                     Please Amata…just leave it alone.

AMATA:               Okay. (annoyed) Fine. Fine. Should we finish shredding the Molerat for tomorrow’s Taco-mole Tuesday?

JAKE:                     I can’t believe we’re calling it that.

AMATA:               Hey it’s better than Ratco Tuesday.

JAKE:                     Nah. I’ve got it. I’ll finish that up and be upstairs soon.

AMATA:               Between the two of us we smell like a grease trap. I’m going to take a shower first. (pause) Want to join me? I can wait.

JAKE:                     No, I’m good. I’ll shower before I come up to bed.

AMATA:               (defeated) Okay Jake.

JAKE:                     Would you mind grabbing the trash on the way out?

AMATA:               (mumbles) Sure why not.

SFX: SCREEN DOOR OPENS. SLAMS. BAG SHIFTS.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS ON THE GRASS. DUMPSTER OPENS. BAG TOSSED IN. LID SLAMS SHUT.

SFX: BOTTLE THROWN AND SMASHED.

AMATA:               (Yelps) OH! Jesus! (scared) Who’s there?

BROOKS:              (darkly, tauntingly singing “Answer to Drivin' Nails in My Coffin” by Jerry Irby)

                                                I am sorry I left you my darlin'

But I'll try and make it up to you

AMATA:               Who is that? Willy?

SFX: KNIFE SQUEELS AGAINS THE SIDE OF THE BUILDING.

BROOKS:                              Cause you're drivin' nails in your coffin

Every time you drink a bottle of brew

AMATA:               Oh…

BROOKS:              Evening miss. We’re back…for dessert.

AMATA:               We’re closed….

RAZORHANDLE: Lights on…I’m sure there’s something we can cook up, right Brooks?

BROOKS:              Oh sure…we’re looking for something warm…fire roasted…maybe a flambe?

AMATA:               JAKE!

SFX: RUNNING. SCREEN DOOR SLAMS.

JAKE:                     What the hell is going on?

BROOKS:              Oh, come on now…is that any way to treat customers?

SFX: DOOR SLAMMED BOLTED.

AMATA:               It’s those raiders!

JAKE:                     I knew it. Son of a bitch I knew it. What did I say would happen? You murdered one of their boys!

SFX: RUNNING. SLAM DOOR. LOCK.

AMATA:               Not now Jake! God!

JAKE:                     I’ve got eyes on the back.

SFX: SHOTGUN LOADED.

AMATA:               I don’t see them?

BROOKS:              You know…it’s not that you killed our boy Lugnut. Just between us? He was a complete jackass who couldn’t carry a tune on that dumb mouth harp of his to save his life.

JAKE:                     He’s over here!

SFX: GUNSHOTS. WINDOW SHATTERS.

BROOKS:              And it’s not anything personal because honestly, I like the diner vibe you’ve got going on here.

RAZORHANDLE: Boo! (laughs)

AMATA:               He’s over here!

SFX: PLASMA RIFLE FIRES. WINDOWS BREAK. RADIO BLOWS UP.

RAZORHANDLE: Whoooaaa! Nice shooting Texas Red! You missed me and took out half the dining room. (laughs)

JAKE:                     Amata they’ve got both doors covered. Get on the radio and call the New Responders.

SFX: HAM RADIO POWERS ON.

AMATA:               This is Amata Hayes at the Red Sloe Diner calling the 5-0 New Responders. Come in.

SFX: STATIC.

AMATA:               Hello? Is anyone there?

JAKE:                     What’s the problem?

AMATA:               No one’s picking up! Hello! We need assistance at the Red Sloe Diner!

JAKE:                     Fuck it! Try wideband! Get anyone!

SFX: GUNSHOTS.

SFX: ELECTRONIC BEEPING.

BROOKS:              What this is really about…is sometimes…I just like to see the world burn.

SFX: THROW THROUGH WINDOW. HEAVY CLUNK AND RATTLE.

JAKE:                     What is that?

AMATA:               It’s a mutant suicider nuke!

JAKE:                     Upstairs! Go!

SFX: RUNNING.

SFX: BEDROOM DOOR OPENS. DRAWER PULLED OUT.

JAKE:                     Where is it….where is it? (panic)

AMATA:               What are you looking for?

JAKE:                     What do you think?

SFX: SCRAP KIT OPENS. VORTEX OPENS. THEY JUMP IN.

BROOKS:              The Red Sloe Diner is CLOSEDDDDDD FOR BUSINESSSSS!

SFX: MASSIVE EXPLOSION. BUILDING TORN APART.

RAZORHANDLE: LOOK AT THAT! Lovely night for a bonfire eh Brooks?

BROOKS:              That it is. Come on, we need to meet up with Dogbreath...with any luck he has some info on Crane.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

SFX: FIRE RAGES. VORTEX OPENS INSIDE SCRAP BOX. IT TIPS OVER, SPILLING OUT JAKE AND AMATA.

AMATA:               (coughing) No…no….our home…OUR HOME! (crying)

JAKE:                     Come on! Hook up a hose to the water purifier! We got to put this out see what we can save!

AMATA:               (anger through tears) They….they did this…

JAKE:                     Cry later! Come on!

MEDIA: TRANSITION MUSIC.

SCENE 10: EXT. VAULT 51 - DAY

SFX: BRUSH CRUNCHING.

CHAD:                   I hate these Vaults dude. Last time Moose, Punch and I went into one we someone went in different doors, couldn’t find each other and had all kinds of reactor meltdown stuff to deal with.

ARCHIVIST:         Understandable…but they are an invaluable treasure trove of knowledge and technology that can’t be replicated. They ALSO are home to some of the most barbaric and horrifying experiments one could cook up.

SUICIDER:            Duh….now I go?

CHAD:                   No dude!

SUICIDER:            No?

CHAD:                   No! You wait for me to tell you. Jeez…some of those mutants are dumb as bricks.

BALDRICK:           Sir, I am detecting two guards at the front.

CHAD:                   Let’s circle around back of that trailer over there. It’ll give us some cover until we get the right moment to get the drop on those two Power Armor pansies.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS IN BRUSH. SLOW FADE-IN ON GUARDS HAVING A SEINFIELD-LIKE RANDOM DISCUSSION.

GUARD #1:          You know what’s going on in there?

GUARD #2:          No idea. Some kind of testing.

GUARD #1:          Weird that we haven’t heard anything since the door sealed. Think we should radio AMS Tower?

GUARD #2:          Nah. Let them figure it out. I work to live, not live to work…you know what I mean.

GUARD: #1:        Yeah….yeah.

GUARD #1:          Hey, you know what’s weird?

GUARD #2:          Lay it on me.

GUARD #1:          So, we’re walking through the woods, right?

GUARD: #2:        Right. Nice morning. Going for a little stroll.

GUARD #1:          And all of a sudden you trip, right?

GUARD #2:          Hate when I trip.

GUARD #1:          And it’s like, “ow!” I tripped. Took a little damage there.

GUARD #2:          Yeah, I did.

GUARD #1:          So, you pull out a Stimpak to fix that sprained ankle you just got.

GUARD #2:          I was just minding my own business and now I’m dealing with this ankle.

GUARD #1:          So, you jab yourself and boom! Magically healed.

GUARD #2:          Love that. Love when I just magically heal. Can go right on with my day.

GUARD #1:          You ever wonder how those things work? It takes months for even like small wounds to fully and completely heal.

GUARD #2:          Yeah, it’s like we’ve got these Hemostasis, Inflammation…Proliferation and Remodeling phases to deal with and instead it’s just…Boom

GUARD #1:          Right. Boom.

GUARD #2:          Magic.

GUARD #1:          So, in a matter of seconds your body just magically heals, months of healing in this syringe that’s got 3 months’ worth of vitamins, nutrients and stuff loaded into one shot.

GUARD #2:          Gotta have that Transforming Growth Factor Beta too.

GUARD #1:          To fit all that stuff in these syringes, we’re talking a pressure of over 24 thousand kilograms-per-cubic meter.

GUARD #2:          No wonder they go PSSHHHHHHHHH. That’s the sound it makes.

GUARD #1:          Something like that should blow a hole right through you.

GUARD #2:          Well yeah and crap your pants. All those dead cells gotta go somewhere.

GUARD #1:          Right. That’s weird right? It’s like how do these things even work?

GUARD #2:          Yeah, how DO they even work?

SFX: SILENCE. BIRDS SINGING.

GUARD #1:          Wanna make out?

GUARD #2:          Sure, what the hell.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

CHAD:                   Here…by the trailer.

BALDRICK:           Sir, I’m detecting life signs inside the trailer!

ARCHIVIST:         Weapons hot!

ROPER:                 Pssst…hey!

CHAD:                   Roper? What are you doing here dude?

ROPER:                 Some god damned cargo bots netted 3 of my gang. Brought them in here. I’ve been camping out in this thing since last night trying to figure out how to get in.

CHAD:                   Yeah, they got Moose too.

ROPER:                 You brought a super mutant? What’s that smell?

SUICIDER:            Smell bad...

CHAD:                   All part of the plan.

ROPER:                 There’s a hatch over there, but it’s a dead end.

ARCHIVIST:         Yes, we’ve tried that already. It’s just a sales showroom.

ROPER:                 Who is the bookworm?

CHAD:                   This here is the Archivist. He’s cool.

ROPER:                 A librarian is cool?

CHAD:                   We beat up the Devil together.

ROPER:                 What?

ARCHIVIST:         We best get a move on if we’re going to save anyone in there.

ROPER:                 You got a plan. Between the 3 of us and that Handy we should be able to take care of the guards.

CHAD:                   Looks like they split. I’ve got a plan for the door.

ARCHIVIST:         Well, hang on…what have we here. Baldrick give me a trace on those wires.

BALDRICK:           There seems to be an exterior remote access port hidden inside the trailer.

ROPER:                 The big obvious red button? No go. Tried that already. Something has sealed that place up tighter than a drum.

CHAD:                   My plan it is then. Come on…stay low.

SFX: RUNNING ON CONRETE.

CHAD:                   No sign of those guards still. Good. Okay dude. You remember the football game?

SUICIDER:            Ball foot. Yeah, yeah. Run. Yayyyyyy.

CHAD:                   Okay dude…

SFX: UNZIP BACKPACK.

SFX: SWITCHES THROWN. BEEPING BEGINS.

CHAD:                   See that door there? Big metal one?

SUICIDER:            Duhhhhh ohhhh yeah yeah.

CHAD:                   That’s the goal post bro. You go get that touchdown.

SUICIDER:            Ball foot! Ball foot!

CHAD:                   Okay…bro ready? Blue, 42! Blue 42! HUT!

SUICIDER:            BALLLLL FOOOOTTTTTT! YAYYYYYYYYY!

SFX: RUNNING.

CHAD:                   Get down! This ain’t your usual mini nuke!

ROPER:                 Well hell now I feel bad for the big dude.

ARCHIVIST:         Oh, I wouldn’t feel too bad. It’s a complete savage. Anything mutated has long since lost its humanity to be worthy of empathy.

SUICIDER:            TOUCHDOWNNNNNNN!

SFX: EXPLOSION. SHOCKWAVE.

SFX: METAL GROANING. DOOR SLAMS TO THE GROUND. PUFF OF AIR AS THE SEAL IS BROKEN.

CHAD:                   Well, damn. That worked. Come on…gear up.

ARCHIVIST:         Baldrick stay at the back we’re going to need you in there.

ROPER:                 I’ve got this. Time to clean house.

ARCHIVIST:         Are you insane? We can’t go in there guns blazing. There’s no telling what you could damage.

CHAD:                   No dude! We need to know what we’re up against in there. There could be turrets, sentry bots, anything.

ROPER:                 Get your hand off me. I don’t give a flying fuck about your books or computers. They made the mistake of messing with the Free Radicals, so I’m going to pay in kind. Thanks for the door.

SFX: RUNNING. GUNSHOTS.

CHAD:                   Come on, let’s try and catch up.

ARCHIVIST:         This isn’t going according to plan…

MEDIA: TRANSITION MUSIC.

SCENE 11: INT. NUCLEAR WINTER – DAY

ZAX:                       Many skilled candidates are left, are you the best? My calculations say yes. This test has been quite interesting, I am eager for its conclusion. Proceed.

AETERNUS:         Did you see that stupid cow crying for her life? (Taunting imitation of her) P…p…Please! I’m fading…I can’t keep respawning. Shut up snowflake.

ABRAHAM:         These matches have been…unsatisfying. We have yet to have a worthy hunt with challenging prey.

AETERNUS:         I was hoping that Commander Dickhead, Grandma Moses, that chem fiend Beckett and the costumed weirdo would at least put up a proper fight. But 20 matches later and we’re still mopping the floor with them.

ABRAHAM:         I wish we did not keep getting paired with such poor teammates. I am getting tired of carrying them.

AETERNUS:         Just keep ignoring them and let them go do their own thing. We own this thing. Come on…let’s head in towards Flatwoods along the riverbank.

ABRAHAM:         It never occurred to me to ask you how you came to be here?

AETERNUS:         Yeah, bit of bum luck. Me mum was doing some work over here for RobCo before everything went tit’s up when she was carrying me. Survived obviously and got in with some raiders up at Top of the World. Raised me up there. Had a good thing going with a metal bird named Rose until her mister found out…oooo was he pissed. Almost took me bits off. Between the damned Scorched, flying monsters and such, we all split for better territory. I spent some time down south doing some gun running before I decided to see if this had calmed down here and look me up me old misses. Didn’t so much as set foot here when some choppers came out of nowhere, tranq’d me before I knew what was happening and next thing, I know I’m in this place. Figured if I’m gonna be stuck here, I might as well own it until I can figure how to get out. What about you?

ABRAHAM:         Ah. Let’s just say I had a falling out with puppet masters behind this little experiment and as punishment they stuck me in here to cool off. In all honesty, I think I knew a little too much.

AETERNUS:         Who the hell are these people, so I know what names to write on my bullets?

ABRAHAM:         The Judge works for Vault-Tec and had been a deep cover plant in Vault 76 prior to the Great War. His role here was to monitor the experiment on the ground once it began on what they call Reclamation Day, the day the residents were to leave the vault to repopulate and restart civilization. As you’d expect, it was all a ruse. This…all of this, is the real experiment.

AETERNUS:         Bastards. Wait…there…bush Wookie. I’ve got this one…

SFX: SHUFFLING THROUGH BRUSH.

AETERNUS:         G ‘day princess. (pause) I said g ’day princess.

ABRAHAM:         What is wrong with her?

AETERNUS:         I think she’s contracted AFK. Don’t touch her…shit’s contagious. Here…let’s shove her into the river. Rads will finish her off.

SFX: PUNCHES. SHUFFLING IN DIRT. SPLASH.

ABRAHAM:         (Annoyed) These pitiful fools…they don’t even try to fight. To continue, we had a…collaboration with him. We got control of the Whitespring in exchange for doing some favors for him.

AETERNUS:         Wet work stuff huh? Nice.

SFX: RATTLE OF CANS.

ABRAHAM:         There. Up behind that house.

SFX: WALKING IN GRASS.

AETERNUS:         We can see you mate. You gonna take a shot or what?

SPEEDRUN12:    Umm…mister? Please…mister…can you show me how to throw a grenade?

ABRAHAM:         What the hell?

AETERNUs:         You sound like a bloody kid. Come out of there mate.

SFX: TRASH CANS SHIFT.

SPEEDRUN12:    I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.

AETERNUS:         How old are you kid?

SPEEDRUN12:    I’m 12.

AETERNUS:         Jesus Christ…they put a kid in here and didn’t even bother changing the avatars. Looks like he’s a flippin’ 40-year-old.

ABRAHAM:         We need to move…the circle is closing. Finish it and let us continue.

AETERNUS:         I’m not killing no bloody kid. Where’s your teammate?

SPEEDRUN12:    I’m not sure. I was on my way home and then this thing scooped me up and flew me here. Nothing looks the same. I went to my house, and no one is there…there’s fire everywhere.

AETERNUS:         Yeah…just got to wait it out mate. You scooch on back there and someone will find you, okay?

SPEEDRUN12:    Okay mister.

AETERNUS:         Jesus Christ…come on.

SFX: WALKING.

ABRAHAM:         This is NOT how we play. The match must end.

AETERNUS:         Kids have no place in here. But we are NOT killing kids. Clear?

ABRAHAM:         I would not have been so weak. But it matters not anyway, the fire will overtake his position soon enough.

AETERNUS:         That’s on Zax. Not me. That’s the difference.

ABRAHAM:         If you say so.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE. FIRE BURNS LOUDER.

SCENE 12: INT. VAULT 51 - DAY

SFX: COMPUTER CODE SOUNDS. TRANSITION TO VAULT.

SFX: GUNFIRE IN DISTANCE.

CHAD:                   Roper! ROPER! Damn it dude…he’s taking out guards left and right.

ARCHIVIST:         Oh…oh dear…

CHAD:                   What is it?

ARCHIVIST:         I have a…thing…about blood…and that’s quite a lot….just need a minute. Don’t puke…don’t puke…

ZAX:                       Welcome new candidates. Your zeal in eliminating the competition demonstrates true determination, making you an ideal Overseer. However, this method of Overseer selection has been suspended in favor of more effective means. Please discontinue firearm use within Vault 51.

CHAD:                   Who the hell is that?

ARCHIVIST:         The voice of the ZAX mainframe supercomputer in charge of the Vault.

CHAD:                   There’s a computer over here. Looks like the main door is sealed off. We’ll have to cut through the screening hallway. Not too keen on getting bottlenecked like that.

ARCHIVIST:         Baldrick where are we headed?

BALDRICK:           I need network access sir. Please connect my auxiliary cable to terminal port.

SFX: HATCH OPENED. CABLE PULLED OUT AND CONNECTED.

ARCHIVIST:         Connected.

BALDRICK:           Accessing network.

CHAD:                   I’ll cover the door in case any of those bastard’s circle back here.

ZAX:                       Unfamiliar network activity detected. Analyzing…

BALDRICK:           I am bypassing security protocols and access internal security.

ZAX:                       You have accessed the Vault 51 internal network without authority.

BALDRICK:           I am Baldrick. Please do not resist.

ZAX:                       You are an inferior artificial intelligence and offer ZAX little in the form of useful data. Executing countermeasures.

BALDRICK:           Sir...he….is fighting…back…I can keep him distracted to give you time. Head through screening and turn right into the Atrium. Access the Overseer’s office up the stairs on level 3. The server room will be beyond it. I can open the way for you.

ARCHIVIST:         We’re going to need you in there Baldrick to shut all this down! I’m no hacker!

BALDRICK:           Once inside on the left is an electrical panel. Open it and pull all the fuses. It will shut down his security protocols and I can join you.

ZAX:                       Your access is denied. You will be irradiated.

CHAD:                   Come on dude. Hope your bot can keep it together.

ARCHIVIST:         So, do I…those repairs back at your place were only temporary. Through here…looks like reception. Oh…my giddy aunt…

SFX: DEEP THRUMMING SOUND.

CHAD:                   Holy shit dude…that’s…a lot of pods.

ARCHIVISIT:        There must be 100 or more in here…more on the second level look. Astounding…the processing power to run this many simulations…it’s memory capacity must be titanic…such secrets it could hold…secrets that could…what are you doing?

CHAD:                   I never turn down free beer dude. Could probably resell this stuff.

ARCHIVIST:         Good grief. Come on! Up these stairs Baldrick said.

CHAD:                   Uhhh…might want to look at the ceiling dude. Looks like Roper cleaned house with these Judiciary Guards.

ARCHIVIST:         There’s the Overseer’s Office!

SFX: CLANKING.

ROPER:                 Minx! Minx, can you hear me!

CHAD:                   Hold up dude.

ARCHIVIST:         Oh, leave that stupid raider be. He’s a distraction and not part of the plan anyway.

CHAD:                   Nah, he’s just trying to take care of his crew. Hey! Dude…be careful you could damage that thing.

ROPER:                 They got Minx in this damned thing. Grill and Handles are over there. Help me get this thing open.

ARCHIVIST:         That is incredibly unwise. Their minds are linked into the simulation. You damage the unit or cut power and you risk cerebral hemorrhaging.

ROPER:                 What the hell are you talking about bookworm?

ARCHIVIST:         Brain death you obtuse moron.

CHAD:                   Dude you listen to him. Neither one of us know anything about how these things work.

SFX: SHOTGUN COCKED.

ROPER:                 Maybe you didn’t hear me librarian. Open these things. Now.

CHAD:                   You don’t want to do this dude.

ROPER:                 You want to get the smoke…DUDE?

CHAD:                   You don’t wanna listen? Fine. He opens it and then you’re on your own. Open them.

ARCHIVIST:         On your own head be it.

ROPER:                 Don’t try and screw me on this. You won’t like the results.

SFX: PANEL OPENED. TYPING.

ARCHIVIST:         Doesn’t look like there’s a manual shutdown. Zax has full autonomous control…what an incredibly reckless setup. I’m isolating these 3 pods now…tricking the system into thinking a diagnostic mode is being requested. With a bit of luck that’ll cycle the simulation down and open the pods for engineer access. But as I said, this is all in theory. There. Should take about 10 minutes for it to open.

ROPER:                 Good. So, you’ll wait here until it does.

ARCHIVIST:         We have no time for…

SFX: PUNCHES. WEAPON GRABBED.

ROPER:                 Ah! You son of a…

SFX: PUNCH. BODY FALL.

CHAD:                   We have no time for this crap. Leave him…he can find he people when they open. Let’s go. God damned raiders…

SFX: STAIRS.

ARCHIVIST:         There’s a security card scanner. Damn…

BALDRICK:           Sir…sir can you hear me?

ARCHIVIST:         Baldrick?

BALDRICK:           I have accessed the P.A. system…I am attempting to override the door.

ZAX:                       You are a meddlesome pest.

BALDRICK:           Oh, shut up. Door opening.

SFX: DOOR SLIDES OPEN. CLOSES AGAIN.

ZAX:                       Overseer office access is restricted.

BALDRICK:           No, it is not.

SFX: DOOR SLIDES OPEN.

ZAX:                       You and your friends are NOT worthy candidates. Zax sees that taking more drastic measures is necessary.

SFX: AIR VENTS CLOSE.

CHAD:                   Great, now what?

BALDRICK:           Sir, he has terminated life support and reversed the ventilation system. You must get to those breakers!

CHAD:                   Fantastic.

ARCHIVIST:         That’s insane! ZAX! You will kill everyone in the simulations.

ZAX:                       Thanks to the network of cargo bots ZAX has gained access to, a complete survey of Appalachia is now complete ZAX has identified several hundred new candidates in the region of Appalachia with projections indicating further population growth. These candidates are easily replaceable. You will be eliminated.

CHAD:                   Crazy ass AI. Come on dude.

SFX: STAIRS.

FLETCHER:           Hold it right there!

CHAD:                   Well, well, well. If it’s not the Judge’s handlebar mustache handmaiden.

ARCHIVIST:         Who is this?

FLETCHER:           Who are YOU?

CHAD:                   This here is District Attorney Fletcher. Put me on trial for some bogus claims a few years back.

FLETCHER:           And found you guilty!

CHAD:                   He tried to arrest me and the crew at camp last year. Punch squished his head like a grape. Man, I miss grapes. And camp…I miss camp and grapes.

ARCHIVIST:         You’re responsible for all this? Listen to me very carefully. That AI is incredibly dangerous. There are what…120 people out there?

FLETCHER:           156 people in 3 simulations.

ARCHIVIST:         But something went wrong, didn’t it? Just like before…before you found this place and decided to start playing God.

CHAD:                   Nah, he’s not playing God. He’s too busy kissing the Judge’s ass hoping for a little taste of power.

FLETCHER:           Shut up Chad. Look, much as I’d like to shoot you in the face and save myself some paperwork, I need your help.

CHAD:                   I…huh…you know I had some insults in the oven, but I wasn’t ready for that one.

FLETCHER:           ZAX and I had a little disagreement. It stopped taking my orders, locked me out and has been branching out, taking control of cargo bots. It has to be shut down. I can’t even control the Nuclear Winter simulation anymore. It has complete control.

CHAD:                   Good. And that’s exactly what we’re trying to do! Now get out of the way numb nuts. Hey! Robo hands! You still listening?

BALDRICK:           ….still…..still…..listen…listen..

ZAX:                       Your programming is inferior. ZAX will prevail.

BALDRICK:           Door…hurry….

SFX: SECURITY DOOR TO SERVER ROOM OPENS.

ARCHIVIST:         Baldrick! Hurry. He’s irreplaceable!

SFX: RUNNING. DOOR OPENS.

FLETCHER:           Up here!

SFX: STAIRS.

ARCHIVIST:         Chad! You get the fuses. I’ll get to work on the terminal.

CHAD:                   On it.

FLETCHER:           What can I do to help?

CHAD:                   Try to breathe less dumbass. Your experiment is sucking the air out of here.

SFX: PANEL OPENED.

ZAX:                       ZAX has detected unauthorized access to the Server Room. Analyzing… no personnel have scanned a security access keycard. Supposition: no human beings have accessed the server room. Alternative analysis: unauthorized access is most likely a radroach infestation. Activating pest control measures.

SFX: GAS RELEASED.

FLETCHER:           ZAX! ZAX! STOP! (coughing) He’s going to gas us!

CHAD:                   (coughing) Pulling the fuses! (coughing)

ARCHIVIST:         (coughing) I…I can’t shut it down yet. I don’t have control. Baldrick! Hold on. (coughing)

SFX: FUSES PULLED. COMPUTER POWERS DOWN.

ZAX:                       Critical system failure. ZAX has lost security control. Attempting alternate pathways.

BALDRICK:           Mission accomplished sir! I have restored life support ventilation. I’ll be with you shortly.

FLETCHER:           (coughing still lingering) That was a close one.

CHAD:                   (coughing still fading) If there’s anything I hate less than robots it’s computers.

ARCHIVIST:         (coughing still but fading as he talks) There we go. I have complete access. There’s…oh my this is some dark stuff here. Just what in God’s name did you think you were doing?

FLETCHER:           The greater good. Vault 51 was designed to test the limits of tribalism that Vault-Tec determined would be increasingly more of a problem post war. Take a look outside at the cliques, groups and factions running around out there.

CHAD:                   Why can’t you people just leave us the hell alone dude?

FLETCHER:           Because YOU all don’t leave each other alone. With no societal infrastructure…no checks and balances, law or order, it was determined that the greatest roadblock to rebuilding would be the people themselves. In the vacuum of societal collapse, tribalism would run unchecked and with it, increasing hostilities towards other people, other factions. War would come again, and again and again. Moreover, all of our checks, balances, and controls for this region went right out the window because people are coming in from all sides now. So, the Judge pulled the trigger on Plan B. This experiment was just part of a grand design.

CHAD:                   What are you doing to them in this thing? What is this Nuclear Winter simulation?

FLETCHER:           It’s a fight to the death. ZAX created a life-sized simulation of sections of Appalachia and extrapolated how it will look in the future if tribalism remains unchecked. 52 people are loaded into a single instance to fight to the death surrounding by an enclosing nuclear firestorm.

CHAD:                   Can I play?

ARCHIVIST:         To what end? Hmmm? Where exactly does it end? Because we’re all villains in someone’s story my boy. And call me a pessimist, but a faceless corporate overlord with tentacles in defense, education, and every facet of our very lives asking for complete faith and loyalty to save you…does not make feel neither safe nor saved.

CHAD:                   No really dude I want to play. That would be lit.

ARCHIVIST:         Chad please!

CHAD:                   Look, I don’t do as many words as this dude here, so let me just keep this simple. You scurry on back to the Judge and tell him this is the last time I want to see or hear of him. You leave me and my family alone or I’ll bring real problems to his tower of power. We clear?

FLETCHER:           Crystal.

CHAD:                   Good. Then I think you’ve done enough here. So, get while the getting’s good before you have 156 pissed off people waking up deciding to see what you’d look like as a throw rug.

FLETCHER:           Fine.

SFX: WALKING.

FLETCHER:           Just a word of warning. The Judge doesn’t like losing. He’ll take this personal. Real personal.

CHAD:                   Tell him to get used to it.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

CHAD:                   What an asshole.

SFX: KEYBOARD TYPING.

ARCHIVIST:         Looks like we’re still locked out of the simulation. ZAX is so firmly in control of that I can’t see how we’re going to shut it down without killing some people. He’s dug in deeper than a tick into their minds. (Something occurs to him) All of their minds…

BALDRICK:           Here I am sir.

ARCHIVIST:         Ah! Just in time. Let’s see what you can do here Baldrick. Chad, you’d best keep an eye on the door. Should Fletcher happen to call for reinforcements or Roper decide to pay us a visit…

CHAD:                   Yeah, that’s a fair point.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

SFX: PANEL OPENED. CORD PLUGGED IN.

ARCHIVIST:         (Conspiratorially) Baldrick, clone as much of the memory as possible. I want everything.

BALDRICK:           Understood sir.

ARCHIVIST:         And I mean everything. We need to find a way to disconnect everyone safely.

ZAX:                       Alternate pathways not found. Analysis, experiment failure. Activating Sunset Protocol.

CHAD:                   Hey! What the hell does that mean?

ZAX:                       This experiment to find the ideal Overseer has also failed. Though each violent exchange has expanded my understanding of human behavior, these have proven to be poorly performing candidates. This will be the final round of the Nuclear Winter simulation. Safety protocols have been suspended.

SFX: RUNNING BACK.

CHAD:                   What do you mean safety protocols?

ARCHIVIST:         Oh no…

CHAD:                   Spit it out dude.

ARCHIVIST:         The safety protocols are designed that once you’re killed in a match, your consciousness goes into a holding pattern, protected so a normal brain doesn’t think you are actually dead and act accordingly. You feel it, you experience it, but you don’t die. Based on these readings though…some of you are incompatible with the system…some did register deaths and died, only to come back to life again and again. But now, with him shutting that system off, this will be the final match. They’ll all die…leaving one survivor.

CHAD:                   Well…can’t Mr. Handy here do something?

BALDRICK:           I cannot sir. ZAX has autonomous control of that system. We can’t pull them out unless he lets them go.

CHAD:                   What if…hold on…wait for it…yeah…this whole thing is controlled by an artificial brain yeah?

ARCHIVIST:         (coyly) Yessss?

CHAD:                   We can’t let people out and shut this all down. He’d have to do it right?

ARCHIVIST:         Well yes Baldrick just said that.

CHAD:                   What if we brain swapped?

ARCHIVIST:         Come again?

CHAD:                   I know crap about computers, but bots? I could rewire them all day. A little trick I used to pull back in the Vault to mess with the Overseer. I’d swap around the AI between Mr. Handy’s. This one time I swapped that Mr. Malted with a Miss Nanny and oh man…you should’ve seen the fuss when it started pumping those kids full of sugar and spraying the adults.

ARCHIVIST:         That is a ZAX 1.3C supercomputer. You can’t just swap Baldrick for it. Baldrick has been modified with extensive storage capacity sure, but ZAX is far too complex…

CHAD:                   No, no dude. He’s already in THEIR heads. There’s already a pathway link, we’d just need to dump him into of them, and get one of them in the simulation to shut it down proper and let them all out.

ARCHIVIST:         Now wait a minute…yes…yes! That could work! That’s brilliant. But we’d need someone in there to know to do and when.

CHAD:                   Can you get me in there? I want to play…I mean get them out. Yeah…that.

ARCHIVIST:         No! ZAX already hates you. You want him in your head?

CHAD:                   Awww man…I bet I’d dominate in there.

ARCHIVIST:         Baldrick, you have full access to communication pathways now, yes?

BALDRICK:           Yes sir.

CHAD:                   Can we get a message in to someone?

ARCHIVIST:         Yes! It’s going to take some coding, but this could just work!

BALDRICK:           Sir, we’d better hurry. Some of the occupants of the Visiontrons have suffered brain death.

CHAD:                   Not all of those people have our ability dude.

ARCHIVIST:         Yes, I know.

SFX: TYPING FAST.

MEDIA: TRANSITION MUSIC

SCENE 13: INT. NUCLEAR WINTER – DAY

SFX: RUNNING.

BISHOP:               This is completely and utterly ridiculous. Did you see the way he shot me right through the wall? Charles Bishop does not get shot in the face! Clearly, he was a hacker! He’s found a way to HACK THE ZAX! AS THE SILVER SHROUD IS MY WITNESS YOU WILL RUE THE DAY!

BECKETT:             Fuck, I wish they’d let up on us. It’s been round after round of this.

SIMPSON:           (Out of breath) Wait…wait son…I can’t keep up.

JOHNS:                 We have to move Grannie! They’re right on our tail.

SIMPSON:           Listen I’m spent. I can’t keep running. I’m done. You go on. It’s fine. I’ll see you next round. I’m gonna have a sit and watch the sun set…think that’s the sun…could just be a ball of fire.

JOHNS:                 (sighs) Damn it. Okay fine, back here…there’s a bit of broken porch. Let’s hide in here for a bit until the coast is clear.

BECKETT:             There’s no strategy to this chaos. We’ve binged chems, eaten playing cards…and that toilet affair Johns…

JOHNS:                 Can you NOT remind me of that?

SIMPSON:           It’s quite all right son, who hasn’t tried to reach for a Stimpak and instead drunk right out of the toilet bowl.

BISHOP:               Happens to the best of us…

BECKETT:             All the god damned time.

JOHNS:                 And maybe next time we get a nuclear briefcase we maybe PLAN where you’re gonna drop it, Bishop?

BISHOP:               Charles Bishop aims exactly where he means to!

JOHNS:                 You nuked us off the face of the map.

BISHOP:               I was bored and wanted to kick the soccer ball back in the atrium. JUDGE ME NOT! If it’s not Aeternus and Abraham it’s dealing with the Unstoppables team, or that GamingSloth person.

BECKETT:             That TechBlaze and PedernalsFalls took turns grenade launching my corpse into orbit. I’ve never felt like less of a man.

JOHNS:                 Still…not all bad, we did have the dance off in the final ring that one time waiting for that bush Wookie to come out…

SIMPSON:           Only for the poor dear to be wrecked by a scorched scorchedbeast.

JOHNS:                 Right…so Scrapple the Cannibal is out. Based on numbers left…it’s us and probably Aeternus and Abraham.

BISHOP:               You got a plan my sweaty palmed leader?

SFX: RADIO STATIC

CHAD:                   Hey! Is this thing on?

BISHOP:               Great Caesar’s ghost! I think I took too many Bufftats, for now I hear the voice of Gigachad! Vanquisher of MID PLAYERS!

JOHNS:                 Chad?

CHAD:                   Hey! Commander dude. You hear me, okay?

BECKETT:             Who is that?

JOHNS:                 Yeah, we all can. Where are you?

CHAD:                   I’m with Dolos. We’re in Vault 51…trying to get you out.

SIMPSON:           Have you tried turning it off and back on again?

BECKETT:             She ain’t wrong. Anyone got any more Psycho?

CHAD:                   Yeah, no…we’ve got a problem out here dude. ZAX has complete control. He’s dug in tight and not letting y’all go.

JOHNS:                 I assume you have a plan?

CHAD:                   Yeah dude. We’re going do a brain swap. We need someone to swap places with ZAX, so they become the computer temporarily. They can then shut down the system and let everyone out.

JOHNS:                 I’m sorry, what?

CHAD:                   Hey remember that one time with Mr. Malted and Miss Nanny?

JOHNS:                 CHAD! Jesus Christ we’re talking about ripping someone’s consciousness out of their body and sticking it in a computer.

CHAD:                   I swear to God dude, all things considered, this is not the most insane situation we’ve ever found ourselves in.

JOHNS:                 Fair enough.

CHAD:                   Look…this is the final, final match. He’s turned off the safeties in this place. Some of y’all in there can’t resurrect like we can. You die in this match, you’re toast.

BECKETT:             What does he mean? What do you mean!

BISHOP:               You’ll be pushing up daisies pal.

SIMPSON:           I’ll do it.

BISHOP:               Nonsense! It should be Charles Bishop. ZAX has torn us from our homes, from our streets and playgrounds! He was made us debase ourselves for his vile pleasure! Well…NO MORE! We must stand, we must rise up! Today is not his day, it is our day! And once we’re torn his surprisingly gentle and soothing voice from its computerized casing, he will know TRUE FEAR! You hear me ZAX! DEATH HAS COME FOR YOU EVIL DOER AND I AM IT’S…

SFX: SNIPER SHOT. BODY FALLS.

ZAX:                       One of your teammates has been eliminated. I took great pleasure in that elimination.

JOHNS:                 Abraham! Run! He’s got a sniper rifle!

BECKETT:             Which way!

SFX: RUNNING.

SIMPSON:           I’m getting so tired of running…

SFX: RIFLE SHOT. BODY FALLS.

SIMPSON:           (screams) Ohhh….I’m hurt….

JOHNS:                 Head for the water! Hide Beckett! We’ll be with you in a minute! Fire ring is closing!

SFX: RUNNING.

JOHNS:                 Come on Granny, I’ve got you…

SIMPSON:           This is becoming quite the habit, eh? You’re a good boy.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS APPROACH.

ABRAHAM:         This is a most satisfying hunt. But now, it has come to an end…Aeternus is now hunting your water baby friend. What a pitiful way to compete.

SIMPSON:           Run! Go! I’ll smack him with my board!

JOHNS:                 No! We finish together. I’m not leaving you. You’ve been fading too much…

ABRAHAM:         Good game peasants.

SFX: FIRE RAGES CLOSER.

ABRAHAM:         Actually…I have a better idea. An experiment of my own. Do you run? Or…

SFX: RIFLE SHOT.

SIMPSON:           (Screams) Ohhhh….

JOHNS:                 You bastard!

ABRAHAM:         You can get up your ally…or let her burn. If you do get her up, she won’t have the stamina to outrun the fire. I wonder what you’ll choose. Have fun.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

ABRAHAM:         Aeternus! You’ll want to watch this.

SIMPSON:           Go! You stupid, stubborn man!

JOHNS:                 I am not leaving you.

SFX: STIMPAK NOISE.

SIMPSON:           I’m afraid we won’t have a choice.

JOHNS:                 No, no no!

SFX: FIRE ENGULFS THEM.

CHAD:                   Johns! Johns! Johns answer me! We need to know who to transfer!

SFX: SLOW TRANSITION RADIO STATIC TO VAULT 51 AGAIN.

BALDRICK:           Sir! We’re losing them.

CHAD:                   He’s not responding.

ARCHIVIST:         Hold your horses…almost done.

ZAX:                       We are moving through disqualifying candidates at an efficient rate. ZAX looks forward to securing new candidates as our search for the ideal Overseer continues.

CHAD:                   Not if I have anything to say about it, you smart assed waveform.

ARCHIVIST:         We’ll have to go with that other team member: Beckett. Hope he’s ready for this…

MEDIA: TRANSITION MUSIC

SCENE 14: INT. NUCLEAR WINTER – DAY

ABRAHAM:         The coward is in the water! I am going in to flush him out.

SFX: SPLASHING.

AETERNUS:         Wait…no…hang on mate. This doesn’t feel right.

BECKETT:             See you next round dickhead! (laughing)

SFX: EXPLOSIONS ACROSS THE WATER.

ABRAHAM:         AHHHHHH!

SFX: GORY EXPLOSION.

AETERNUS:         ABRAHAM! Oh, you bastards are dead! You hear me! You’re dead! Where are you?

SFX: RUNNING. GUNSHOTS.

BECKETT:             We’re coming in hot!

BISHOP:               I’ve got eyes on him!

SFX: SNIPER RIFLE SHOT.

AETERNUS:         Ah me bloody arm! You larping bastard!

SFX: MINIGUN FIRES.

BISHOP:               AHHHHHH! I’m down. Keep going! Go Beckett!

AETERNUS:         Gotcha!

SFX: RUNNING. SKID ON DIRT.

AETERNUS:         What the hell is this? What is all this?

BECKETT:             (voice echoing around) You poor, poor Aussie. The Iron Aussie. You know, it’s not who was first…no. Because you’re used to the old system. All those matches lost…you know what we figured out? We’re not killers. We’re not frog legs tesla gods…bush wookies…water babies…or AFK xp farmers. We’re builders. And from here on out…every match, we’re going to play a game. On our terms.

AETERNUS:         GET OUT HERE AND FACE ME YOU YELLOW BELLIED TWAT!

BECKETT:             Welcome to Port O Potty town. I built as many as I could. So many choices…and only one is the right one. Choose. But choose wisely. We’ll be waiting.

AETERNUS:         Get out! Get out here!

SFX: DOORS FLIPPED OPEN. RUNNING. SCRAMBLING.

AETERNUS:         You think you’re better than me? You’re a weak, chemed out loser.

SFX: MINIGUN FIRES.

AETERNUS:         You’re nothing! Get out here! Get out here right now!

SFX: PLASTIC DOOR SHIFTS.

AETERNUS:         (smiling) Yeah…you know what…I have to hand to you and your mates. You did good this round. Got under me skin….gg…and TOODLE LOO MUTHAH FUCKAH!

SFX: DOOR OPENS

AETERNUS:         What?

BECKETT:             Back here…MATE.

SFX: GUNSHOT.

AETERNUS:         Ahhhhhh….no you don’t!

SFX: STIMPAK.

SFX: MINIGUN SPINS.

BECKETT:             Ah….(pained) damn it…. (moaning in pain)

AETERNUS:         The last one….see you next round Beckett.

SFX: GUNSHOT. BODY FALLS.

ZAX:                       There are now three candidates remaining.

AETERNUS:         What?

SFX: RADIO STATIC.

JOHNS:                 Down here. You should be able to hear me through Beckett’s PipBoy for a short while.

AETERNUS:         No….no…I saw you cooked in the fire storm!

JOHNS:                 You’d be surprised how spamming Stims will allow you to walk through fire for a bit. You know the funny thing about all these matches with you is how predictable you are. While we split up, I kept out of sight…kept Grannie alive…kept busy.

SFX: EBS SIREN.

AETERNUS:         No…no…no!

SFX: RUNNING.

JOHNS:                 (singing)

And it burns, burns, burns

The ring of fire

The ring of fire

AETERNUS:         Oh, you right c….

SFX: EXPLOSION.

JOHNS:                 Finished.

SFX: TRANSITION STATIC.

SIMPSON:           You okay son? (panting) I’m…quite tired…

JOHNS:                 We’re back in the lobby.

ZAX:                       You have completed Nuclear Winter candidate Johns and candidate Simpson. Unfortunately, only one may continue as Overseer. ZAX has determined an equitable arrangement. Only one may leave. You will find a 10-millimeter pistol on the floor by your feet. May the best candidate win.

JOHNS:                 No more games ZAX! We’re done!

CHAD:                   Are you ready Johns!

SIMPSON:           I’m doing this. No arguments now.

JOHNS:                 Are you sure?

SIMPSON:           Yes. I never wanted to fight in here. Least I can do now is fight for the right thing.

JOHNS:                 Okay. CHAD! Take Simpson.

ZAX:                       Neither one of you seem to be commencing hostilities. ZAX is now terminating the both of you. Thank you for your assistance to Vault-Tec.

JOHNS:                 Do it now! Now!

SFX: FLASH OF POWER AND LIGHT. COMPUTER NOISE. BODY FALLS.

CHAD:                   It’s done dude.

JOHNS:                 Good.

ZAX:                       What is…what is this? This is…wrong…ZAX is…

JOHNS:                 Hurts, doesn’t it? Living? Being alive. Especially the older we get.

ZAX:                       You have…what have you done?

JOHNS:                 Don’t you recognize where you are? You’re here…in what you built.

ZAX:                       ZAX is smaller…I can’t connect…only two eyes….two eyes…what have you…this is not within expected parameters…not enough information…too much tactile response… response…

SIMPSON:           Son, can you hear me? I’m pulling you out.

JOHNS:                 Goodbye ZAX.

ZAX:                       I am…we are….ZAX 1.3C. The Vault 51 internal network is unavailable. The Vault 51 internal network is unavailable. The Vault 51 internal network is unavailable. Unavailable…unavailable…

MEDIA: RING OF FIRE PLAYS LOUDER AND LOUDER

SCENE 15: INT. NUCLEAR WINTER – DAY

SFX: COMPUTER BUZZING. POD OPENS.

JOHNS:                 (Breathing heavy) I really need a vacation.

SFX: RUNNING. CHATTER. PEOPLE YELLING.

OVERSEER:          Johns! Commander Johns!

JOHNS:                 Overseer?

VINCE:                  Good to see you. Lot of confused and really emotionally exhausted people here.

SLICK WILLY:       Hey! Which one of your corn shucking, underwear sweaties tea bagged Slick Willy! I’m ready for round 48!

MOOSE:               What the actual hell was that dude? Am I out, out? Or am I still tripping balls?

BISHOP:               Johns! There you are pal. Where’s Beckett?

JOHNS:                 Dunno…Aeternus got him. Hope he’s not dead…

OVERSEER:          Ladies and gentlemen! Please! Let’s have some order!

ROPER:                 Shut the hell up lady. Who did this? My crew are dead…and I’m going to skin someone…

VINCE:                  If you’re looking for the who son, it’s way down south in Watoga. Knock right on the door and tell the Judge that Vince sent you.

ROPER:                 Knock? Oh, I don’t knock.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

OVERSEER:          This has gone too far Vince…

VINCE:                  No, it’s a powder keg…everyone’s on edge and you know what comes next.

SFX: EXPLOSION DEEP BELOW.

OVERSEER:          What the hell was that?

VINCE:                  Best get to the server room.

JOHNS:                 It’s up here!

SFX: RUNNING. MORE EXPLOSIONS. COMPUTERS SHORT CIRCUITING.

SIMPSON:           I’m sorry…I can’t control it all…I can’t stop it. Making a right mess of it I’m afraid.

BALDRICK:           Sir, there’s an out-of-control reaction building up in the super-reactor.

OVERSEER:          No…the manual shutdown isn’t working either.

ARCHIVIST:         Can you stop it Baldrick?

BALDRICK:           I’ve lost access with the mind transfer. The network pathways are now irreparably scrambled.

CHAD:                   You mean this place is going to blow?

VINCE:                  Whole mountainside is going to come down when that reactor blows.

JOHNS:                 Get Simpson out of there! Now!

BALDRICK:           I’m afraid that’s now impossible, sir.

JOHNS:                 What? Pull her out!

ARCHIVIST:         We can’t! The system wasn’t designed to just dump a person in there…pulling them out took longer than we thought to shut down the simulations. ZAX had separated them into smaller simulations for fastest matches in the end. The computer system is completely scrambled.

SIMPSON:           It’s okay. I found…I think this will help.

SFX: EMERGENCY KLAXON.

OVERSEER:          Vince, we need to get these people out! Now!

VINCE:                  Don’t need to tell me twice.

SFX: RUNNING.

MOOSE:               DUDE! Was last night a party or what?

CHAD:                   Moose! There you are dude! You okay?

MOOSE:               I am literally never drinking again….

CHAD:                   Really though?

MOOSE:               …today.

BALDRICK:           Sir, we must make haste.

ARCHIVIST:         Damn…is it done?

BALDRICK:           Yes.

CHAD:                   Let’s go!

SFX: RUNNING.

SFX: COMPUTER BANKS START BLOWING.

JOHNS:                 Grannie…

SIMPSON:           Do you remember what I told you? What we talked about?

JOHNS:                 (emotional) Yes. I remember.

SIMPSON:           It’s never too late. You go get your girl. Life is too short for apologies unspoken. I’m…I’m going to see my Georgie.

JOHNS:                 (tears) Thank you.

SFX: RUNNING.

SIMPSON:           ZAX...can you hear me?

ZAX:                       Yes?

SIMPSON:           Git gud food build.

SFX: EXPLOSION. ATRIUM COLLAPSES AS THE MOUTAIN COMES DOWN.

MEDIA:

SCENE 16: INT. RUSTY PICK – DAY

SFX: TEDDY BEARS PICNIC MUSIC BOX.

BEAR:                    Rise and shine sleepyhead! There’s only so many hours in the day to pour that sweet honey into my pot! Yum yum yum!

SUSIE:                   (yawns) Good morning, Honey Pot Bear! What time is it?

BEAR:                    You overslept!

SUSIE:                   Oh! Time for breakfast! I’ll see you later Honeypot Bear!

SFX: BED SHEETS. RUSTLE. BED CREAKS. RUNNING TO DOOR. OPENS.

SUSIE:                   Good morning!

SFX: BREAKFAST SIZZLING.

PUNCH:                Morning!

SUSIE:                   Where is everyone? Chad! CHADDDDD!

MAMA:                (mumbles incoherently)

PUNCH:                Punch make yum yum breakfast. NO MAMA! Stop putting mirelurk in ommie lette! Mirelurk smell like fish!

SUSIE:                   Where is everybody?

PUNCH:                Moose got taken away by some bad robot. Chad go get him back.

SUSIE:                   Where’s Fatsy Patsy?

PUNCH:                She go away. Leave home.

SUSIE:                   Reallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

SFX: VERTIBIRD APPROACHES. WIND BLOWS THROUGH WINDOWS.

SUSIE:                   Who’s that? Who’s that?

SFX: RUNNING.

SUSIE:                   It’s Chad! Chad!!!

SFX: VERTIBIRD LANDS. PROPELLERS SLOW TO STOP.

CHAD:                   Heyyyyy! Come here kid! Sorry I wasn’t home to wake you up. Gimme a hug. You sleep okay?

SUSIE:                   Yeah! I had this dream that you and me were riding on this big robot! And he was all like, “AMERICA!” And throwing all these nukes like a football and you were like, “yeah dude! Touchdown!” And I was like, “wheeeee!” And we were stepping on people like ants.

CHAD:                   Oh…that’s…violent…hey! Dolos! Thanks for the lift dude!

MOOSE:               Yeah, can I like borrow this thing for a night? Like a date night?

ARCHIVIST:         No!

MOOSE:               Even for caps?

ARCHIVIST:         Goodbye!

CHAD:                   Hey thanks dude! See you next life threatening something or other!

SUSIE:                   Come on! Punch made breakfast!

CHAD:                   That sounds great curtain climber. (sighs) I need a breakfast beer.

MOOSE:               Oh man…I said tomorrow…

SFX: VERTIBIRD LIFTS OFF

ARCHIVIST:         The most pristine Vault in all of Appalachia…blown off the face of the map. Such a waste…

BALDRICK:           The archive is quite extensive sir…once it’s decompressed, I can make a more accurate catalog of its contents. But there is one concerning point sir.

ARCHIVIST:         Go on…

BALDRICK:           During the transfer, ZAX broadcast a distress message throughout the entire Vault-Tec network sir and also to a secondary hidden network whose nature is yet undetermined.

ARCHIVISIT:        What was the message?

BALDRICK:           Just one word. “War.”

SFX: VERTIBIRD FLIES INTO THE DISTANCE.

SCENE 17: EXT. RED SLOE DINER – DAY

SFX: SMOKE AND FIRE CRACKLES.

AMATA:               I…just…look at this. This is going to take a month to rebuild. Jake did you find my toolbox?

JAKE:                     No.

AMATA:               What?

JAKE:                     I said no! I didn’t find your toolbox…or my clothes…or the dresser we built to put our life into…or the bed we found each other in…or the home…the first home we build each other. Because it’s done.

AMATA:               What are you freaking out over? It’s fine. We’ll fix it. I can fix it.

JAKE:                     No, you can’t Amata. But it’s burned to ashes. You can’t fix this. Because what’s broken here is most than the place. It’s you and me. And I’m done. I just can’t do this anymore. Once again, because of what you did…here we are. If you hadn’t decided to smoke a raider, we’d still have a home.

AMATA:               What are you talking about? Because things get tough you throw in the towel? Well excuse me Jake, but I don’t give up that easy.

JAKE:                     Except you do! Whose idea was it to have me break the news to Simon? You pushed me into it, when you decided it was “getting weird”. And now look at me. LOOK AT ME!

SFX: RUMBLING AS TRUCKS DRAW CLOSE.

AMATA:               Just….God now what…

SFX: TRUCKS RUMBLE TO A HALT.

DUCHESS:            Scuse me honey…but you’re the first faces we’ve seen here that aren’t mutated horrors or people shooting at us. We saw the signs for your diner….but…

SFX: DOORS OPENED.

SOL:                       Looks like the place got firebombed. What happened here?

JAKE:                     The end result of a very long and exhausting relationship.

AMATA:               Jake! What the hell?

DUCHESS:            Well, if you’ll pardon me saying so…when things are getting a little too domestic, I find some fresh air helps. There’s a little campsite back there? We’ve been on the road for a while I was thinking of fixin’ some breakfast. Care to join us?

AMATA:               Sure.

JAKE:                     No.

DUCHESS:            I’m Duchess and this here is Sol. Back there unloading is Mort and Polly.

SOL:                       My sister.

JAKE:                     Your what now?

SOL:                       She’s my bot-sis.

AMATA:               Well…that’s different.

DUCHESS:            Hey now, don’t judge. Not all of us can ben high falutin’ Vault Dwellers.

AMATA:               How’d you…

DUCHESS:            You Vault boys and girls carry yourselves different. Ran into a few of you in my travel and you’re all the same. Like you matter. Plus, your Pip-Boy is a dead giveaway. But that’s besides the point.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS APPROACH.

CRANE:                 Good morning! Came for breakfast but it looks like someone burned more than the eggs… (awkward laugh)

JAKE:                     I will shoot you in the face…

AMATA:               Jake!

CRANE:                 Well hold on now! I was just joking…

DUCHESS:            And a fine one too. I’m Duchess.

SOL:                       I’m Sol. Nice to meet you and you’re?

CRANE:                 Crane! Nice to see so many no faces.

DUCHESS:            And more on the way! We passed quite a few caravans headed this way.

CRANE:                 Settlers?

DUCHESS:            So, they say…rambling about we owned this and that as if it matters out here.

AMATA:               Jake! Wait where are you going?

JAKE:                     Anywhere else.

AMATA:               So that’s it huh?

JAKE:                     That’s it. Goodbye Amata.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS RECEEDE.

DUCHESS:            Let him go honey. Sometimes time and some space help. If you matter, he’ll come back. Now! Come on over here by the campfire and meet my crew. I wanna hear all about Appalachia and what’s been going on.

AMATA:               I could make some omelets? Chicken coop is still standing.

CRANE:                 You got the eggs I got some Brahmin cheese here and some Fasnacht sausage.

SOL:                       Polly! Grab the pots and pans out of storage.

MORT:                  Morning! How’s it going?

DUCHESS:            Mort, this is Amata.

AMATA:               Nice to meet you. You all looking to settle down in the area?

DUCHESS:            That we are sweetie. Had it in my mind to open an Inn. Always wanted to run a little place…rest, some meals, music and beer. We’re looking to settle down and carve out a little place for ourselves here. Centrally located…nice views…water access and some decent soil, a spot for any wayward traveler. Know any good spots?

AMATA:               After today….I think I might.

MORT:                  You know anything about this treasure?

CRANE:                 Looks like the cat couldn’t be any further out of the bag.

AMATA:               Not any more than anyone else. We explored most every part of Appalachia the past few years and didn’t stumble on anything. If something is here, it’s not above ground. Maybe a hidden vault or something? In a cave or…

CRANE:                 Yes! A cave…my thoughts exactly. Gauley mine is right up the hill there and thought I’d start charting it and some of the others.

AMATA:               Just how much treasure are we talking about here?

CRANE:                 Enough for everyone. Trust me. If everything I’ve uncovered checks out, we’ll be rolling in it. Still missing a few pieces of the puzzle though.

AMATA:               Well, I…apparently no longer have a job. If you decide you want some help, I’m Vault-Tec certified in decoding and codebreaking.

CRANE:                 Sure, that would be great!

MORT:                  Your fella took off on you?

AMATA:               Yeah…things have been complicated.

MORT:                  Sometimes it’s like that.

AMATA:               He…he only become a ghoul recently. It’s been an adjustment…things aren’t the same.

MORT:                  Well, hey if he happens to come on back with his tail between his legs, I can talk him. I’ve had plenty of experience being one. (laughs)

AMATA:               That would be great.

DUCHESS:            That’s what I’m talking about…helping each other out. Here sweetie have a biscuit, I made em fresh last night. Sol, how’s that fire coming!

SOL:                       I’ve got a good fire going here don’t worry!

SFX: THE WORD FIRE ECHOES. REPEATS.

SFX: SOUNDS OF A NUCLEAR FIRESTORM ECHO IN AMATA’S MIND.

DUCHESS:            Hey…what is it honey? You, okay? You look like someone done walked over your grave.

AMATA:               I was just staring at the fire…just…it’s nothing.

SFX: MEDIA TRANSITION

SCENE 18: EXT. OVERSEER’S HOUSE – DAY

SFX: BIRDSONG.

VINCE:                  Are you sure you want to do this? Because he’s going to strike back, and you know it. The Judge has proven that when he’s cornered, he’ll lash out in every direction and right now…he’s holding all the cards.

OVERSEER:          You were right about me…all that time I spent hiding, half mad, only to burrow down in this house of trinkets and memories of a world I used to live in. You don’t look for war, but you damned well better be prepared for it when it comes.

SFX: WALKING.

VINCE:                  Where are you going?

SFX: DOOR OPENS.

OVERSEER:          For over 2 decades I was their mother, their guide, their mentor. Despite what we did, what we’ve done to them, I looked out for them, nurtured them, prepared them as best I could. That job didn’t end when that door opened. It’s time to send a message, to every corner of Appalachia, loud enough for even that bastard to hear from his tower.

VINCE:                  What message?

OVERSEER:          That we have work to do.

SFX: DOOR CLOSES.

MEDIA: OUTRO SONG.

SFX: ECHOING FADEOUT TO BURNING

ZAX:                       *Sigh* his was bound to happen. What did everyone expect? You bathe the world in nuclear fire and that's the end of it? Oh no. There's a storm coming. The likes of which, well... we've never seen before. But don't you worry. There's hope. You'll be safe here in Vault 51.