CAST & VOICE TALENT

• Kenneth Vigue ~ Simon Rex
• Clint Winberry ~ Moose Miller
• Jessica Marie Dickey ~ Patsy Parker
• Christian Mower ~ Punch/Vendorbot
• Joseph Picard ~ Chief of Security Albert Vince
• Robert Solomon ~ The Banned Shadows

 

KEN: This post-apocalyptic podcast contains some foul language, dark humor and depictions of well warranted violence. You have been warned. Proceed through the Vault Door at your own risk.

SCENE 1: INT. SIMON’S HOUSE.

FADE IN HOLOTAPE RECORDING PLAYING THROUGH. WIND PICKING UP OUTSIDE.

SIMON (vo):       this hunger…I can’t control it. The rules of this place make no sense. But I’m beginning to learn that out here you can’t trust anyone. …I’m getting hungry again…

SIMON:                Stop playback.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Resume recording.

TAPE REEL ENGAGES AND BEGINS TRANSCRIBING

SIMON:                Before Ghoul Scout camp…before finding Jake and Amata again…I was lost, losing myself to hunger, but it was more than that…how can I explain? Ah… imagine…for a moment that you’re a solider. You sit in a remote facility, deep underground. The conditions are cramped, privacy doesn’t really exist…and any release in the former of intimate human contact is impossible. Every day automated alarms wake you up. You pour your coffee, eat your rations and make your way down a hallway to a stifling control room. White noise in the form of ambient machine humming, readouts spitting out paper, beeps and boops greets you every day. It becomes so routine that it becomes background noise…barely audible to you by this point. You sit in your squeaky office chair, you log in to your workstation and you start your daily ritual. Every day…the same routine, checks, double checks, remote reports in to superiors you’ll never, ever meet. And every day…you don’t know when, that background noise explodes into chaos. Klaxons blare, consoles blaze in blinding red lights. You rise, move to a case, enter a passcode and extract a special key. You take that key back to your old, familiar console…insert it, turn it. A glass dome rises off a big, red button. Without hesitation you push that button. And everything, everything stops...silence save for the ringing in your ears. Then, a response code on your green tinged terminal. “Test Completed.” You see your job is to push the button…the button that launches your nuclear missile out of the silo to seek out retribution against the enemy. You do this every single day. Every fucking day…for years. Can you imagine that? Years? Can you conceive how that routine, that mind numbing endless monotony would eat away at your sanity?

SOUND OF CRACKING OPEN A SODA AND DRINKING.

SIMON:                Now imagine you’re Joe Nobody and family. Card carrying members of the Societal Preservation Program. You and your family have lived through decades of war. The Euro-Middle Eastern War of the 2050s, the collapse of the United Nations and even...even a plague. A plague in the United States! Tens of thousands dead. So, you do the right thing for your family. You know people…you’re important. You sign up for a Vault…to be prepared for whatever comes. But that ticket to salvation comes with a price. Drills…ongoing drills. Air raid sirens blaring, false news stories of attacks on the radio and television. For every drill, your heartbeat races…you panic, gather your family and essentials and make your way to the Vault. Eventually as time goes on, these drills became the background noise of your life. The misses had washing on the line so you decide to skip one. Your Corvega needs a good wax and shine…so you skip another. The kids are at grandma’s and you and the little lady finally have some alone time…so you skip another. On October 23^rd, 2077 the Vault-Tec air raid sirens sounded again…the news broadcasters and radio announcers repeated the same language, the same warnings you had heard for years. By the time the first flashes of light were seen, and the shockwaves were felt, it was too late. Only a fraction of those card-carrying people checked into their Vaults. But you know what? On that day every soldier. Every single soldier pushed their button…just like they were supposed. Because they were trained for it. The lesson? People cannot live in a constant state of fear. We find distractions, we settle, we adapt. It is our innate instinct for survival that is our most defining trait. We endure…the human race is, in a word: indomitable.

LIGHTS OF CIGARETTE AND DRAG.

SIMON:                Let’s recap. Just a few weeks out of the Vault I shot and killed a fellow human being. I buried Chad in a shallow grave with intention…a part of me wanted to see how many days it would take for the Radrats and Molerats to catch wind and make a meal out of him. A few weeks after that my best friend reached inside me and shuffled my deck…and didn’t even buy me dinner first. He manipulated my genetic code using enteric coated playing cards…perk cards and turned me into a cannibal. What did I do? I ate his face and buried him as well. And now, I sit here…bleeding out…the clock running out, betrayed by a trusted ally, injected by something by Chad. No Stimpacks…and soon enough no chance of resurrection for anyone…one final experiment terminated. You see, all those years ago a man named Stanislaus Braun looked at the power vacuum created in that constant state of fear and threat of war and used the resources of a shadow government to run experiments of his own. Because human beings and our survival instincts are a scientist’s wet dream. For Vault 76, that man had something very, very special planned. You see, unlike other vaults, the experiment wasn’t conducted inside the vault. Oh no. The Appalachia Experiment started automatically when the door unsealed. Chad came back to back to life, I came back to life…so did Jake, Moose, Patsy, Amata and so many of us. Death. Resurrection. Death. Resurrection. Routine. Routine…Routine. But between the moment of death and the startling feeling of coming back to life was one place that I have feared more than any other. In it, is a humming neon backlit sign reads simply, “The Atomic Shop.” And this tale…is the story of how I ended up there.

MUSIC & INTRO SEQUENCE

SCENE 2: MORGANTOWN AIRPORT. CHIME IS HEARD. VOICE OVER INTERCOM ECHOES IN THE EMPTY TERMINAL.

VINCE:                  Good morrrrrrrnnnnningggg Morgantown! Chief Responder Albert Vince here coming to you live from the Morgantown Airport. It’s a sunny Sunday and today is going to be a scorcher! This is a reminder that the Responders are looking for active members of the community to help rebuild our number. Do you have what it takes to be a firefighter? A police officer? A paramedic? Join up today! Considering…it’s just me here…

ANGRY SCREAM.

VINCE:                  Oops…one second…

MACHINE GUN SHOTS RING OUT FOLLOWED BY WET BODIES EXPLODING.

VINCE:                  Sorry about that. Those scorched sure love this airport. As I was saying, when I first emerged into Appalachia, I left behind my security credentials and my desire for anything to do with the military. When I first came out this way I was hoping to find Responders to join up with. Do something positive…instead I found another abandoned outpost, corpses and the body of Maria Chavez. I listened to her final words after the Scorched overran their defenses. With her final words she left behind a beacon of hope for others…a possible cure for this Scorched plague. When I was done listening, I was determined to restart the Responders. I put the holotape back where she had placed it in reverence. We have ample crops here, medical facilities, and with some help we can bolster the defenses and keep the scorched out. So, if you’ve an able body and a desire to help others come on down to Morgantown Airport today!

INTERCOM CUTS OFF.

VINCE:                  Jesus I hope people do show up…

EXPLOSIONS OUTSIDE.

VINCE:                  What in the fuck is that?

SOUNDS OF RUNNING. METAL DOORS OPEN AND CLOSE. WAVES OF SCORCHED ARE CHARGING FORWARD.

VINCE:                  Damn! Scorched!

EXPLOSIONS START RINGING OUT.

MOOSE:               Yeeeeeeee haaaaaaaa!

VINCE:                  Moose?

MOOSE:               Sup Chief? Coming through! There’s a flying cargo thing with my name on it.

VINCE:                  No wait, those are the supplies I…

EXPLOSION AND CRASH.

VINCE:                  Called in…never mind.

MOOSE:               Well…got a few burned Stempicks here and sweet….canned coffee.

VINCE:                  How ah…how’ve you been kid?

MOOSE:               5x5 Chief. I’ve been having a blast out here PowerFisting these scab people.

VINCE:                  Nice missile launcher you have there son. Quad barrel?

MOOSE:               Yeah I got it off some noob from sublevel 6 in a trade. Asked to see it and when he gave it to me to lookover I fucked off. I think he’s still looking for me.

VINCE:                  (Sighs) God damned kids…well not my problem anymore. Look son, you seem to be pretty good in a firefight and you handle heavy weapons pretty well. Think you have what it takes to join the Responders?

MOOSE:               Yeah I saw some terminals back in Flatwoods suggesting I join up. It sounded lame, so I went hunting instead.

VINCE:                  Oh…nice…RadStag?

MOOSE:               No. Redheads. I can’t stand those gingers.

VINCE:                  Look we’re getting off track here. The Responders are a volunteer disaster relief organization. It’s our job to help communities survive. Those who did survive out here got wiped out one way or another and this Scorched Plague is a threat to all of us. We’re the Fire Breathers, the Paramedics and the Police Force.

MOOSE:               I get to be one of those Chief?

VINCE:                  No, no…you have to be all 3.

MOOSE:               What? I mean…usually people in real life specialize in one career choice.

VINCE:                  No, you have to be all 3. You have to train for all 3, but it’s cool because you get some neat outfits when you’re done.

MOOSE:               But is there any benefit to being all 3 when you’re done training?

VINCE:                  Not really. But look at these outfits!

MOOSE:               Yeah, okay. None of this sounds like fun dude. Good luck with your outfit club! Moose gotta be Moose!

VINCE:                  Ummm…okay. See yah later son!

RUNNING AWAY. MORE EXPLOSIONS.

MOOSE:               Awww yeaahhh! BOOM! BOOOM! This is the best.

VINCE:                  (Sighs) Maybe it’s not too late to go back into the military.

MUSIC TRANSITION

 

SCENE 3: EXT. ROADWAY. CRUNCHING GRAVEL.

SIMON (V.O.)    Appalachia, Day 69 continued. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop myself. I…I just murdered and ate my best friend. What the fuck is wrong with me? I am cutting across land…trying to avoid the roads. Not that I am in fear that someone will discover what I have done…the boundaries I have crossed…but fearful that I will stumble on another Vault Dweller and lose control. It calls to me…deep inside…in the darkest places. Its those places where the urge to jump when we are looking over a cliff live…or when we stare at a blade and wonder…what would happen if I were to cut myself…just a little. Those dark places. I feel like there is something growing in me, a primal force. In my mind…it is always screaming. I’ve been hunting for a temporary shelter…spotted something shining on the hilltop in the distance, north of the Tyler County fairgrounds. Almost there…oh! It’s…a little encampment. Long abandoned. Oh! And puppies! Hey there little fella! Ah! My arm you little bastard! Let go of my Pip…

SOUNDS OF ANGRY DOGS ATTACKING.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON (V.O.)    Appalachia, Day 69…continued. Right…met my first dog. It was hairless and a complete asshole. I was out of ammo for my pipe rifle, so after 20 minutes of beating them to death with it…this encampment is finally mine. It’s a cluster of little shacks and an old AtomicStream travel trailer, the kind that Mom and Dad told me they had before life in the Vault. This place looks like its been long abandoned, but it will do for now. I located a workbench with tools and functioning electrical apparatus to craft all manner of ammunition and devices, but paradoxically…the 156 rounds of garbage 10mm ammo I am carrying around I can’t break down. I had read…READ in the Vault Tec Guide “Your Ammo and You” and you should be able to melt things down, or extract shot or gunpowder from ammo you don’t use. But this? No! I smashed at the bullet casing for 20 minutes…subjecting it to heat, lasers…even grenades. These shell casings are manufactured by Satan. I can do nothing but drop them into a paper bag and walk away and salt the Earth when they eventually vanish. I spotted a lumber mill to the northwest I am going to do some scavving at. Tonight…I shall ignore the thing screaming inside me. I’m having hot dogs instead…

MUSIC TRANSITION

PATSY:                  The Journal of Patsy Parker. Ugh…I thought the Vault was lame, but out here everything is so, so gross. I have to like…look for things and build things. Everything is dirty and there are these disgusting rat creature things that have chased me all over the place. Back in Flatwoods I had to learn these recipes and harvest my own meat. Can you believe it? The meat was rotting right off the carcass. But the worst thing? The absolute worst thing? I haven’t had a decent shower since I left the Vault. I tried to take a bath in a pond, but I was getting all irradiated and all I had was this soap to use on my hair. My hair looks like a rat’s nest. So here I am at this workbench trying to make my own shampoo. I still haven’t found Chad or Moose. Let’s see…a little tarberry and maybe some little Firecracker Berry…

THERE IS A WHOOP SOUND

PATSY:                  Oh my fuckin’ hair! I hate this place!

MUSIC TRANSITION

SCENE 4: EXT. ROADWAY. CRUNCHING GRAVEL.

PUNCH:                Punch can’t stay with supermutants they say. Punch too soft like human. Only want make brew. Don’t want to wear trashcan on head. Stupid supermutants. I was thinking. And it hurt! Hurt my head! But I remembered things. From before... I think I knew a woman. Or maybe, I WAS a woman... Aggh! It hurts! Oh! Punch smell meat! Yum yum!

SHOOTS RING OUT.

MOOSE:               Hold it right there super chief! What the fuck are you supposed to be?

PUNCH:                Supermutant stupid!

MOOSE:               I’m not stupid! You’re stupid!

PUNCH:                No YOU’RE stupid!

MOOSE:               No YOU’RE STUPID!

PUNCH:                No YOU’RE STUPID!

MOOSE:               No YOU ARE STUPID! STUPID!

PUNCH:                Put down gun. Punch smack you like bitch.

MOOSE:               Okay phlem on legs. Let’s do this. I’ll tell you what…you hit me. Take your best shot.

PUNCH:                Punch show you where his name come from.

PUNCHING NOISE AND A RUMBLE IS HEARD.

MOOSE:               Nice one. My turn.

PUNCHING NOISE AND A RUMBLE IS HEARD.

PUNCH:                Punch no feel a thing.

MOOSE:               Me neither. You’re alright big shoots.

PUNCH:                You…look like human, but you big and smell like supermutant. Punch like you.

MOOSE:               I’ll tell you what super chief you take a punch to the face like a champ and don’t even flinch. Want some grub?

PUNCH:                What you cook?

MOOSE:               I was busy raiding this dude’s shack and this two headed bear tried to get the drop on me.

PUNCH:                Punch hate Yao Guai. They pain in ass.

MOOSE:               Yeah it was a fun wrestling match. Choked the bastard out. I ground up some bear burgers. They’re almost done. Made a fuck ton of them dude…you can help yourself.

PUNCH:                Bah…bear sometimes too dry. Punch make gravy

POTS AND PANS PULLED OUT OF BACKBACK. INGREDIENTS GETTING MIXED.

MOOSE:               Whatcha cookin’ up there dude?

PUNCH:                Blackberry barb gravy.

MOOSE:               Barb gravy? Do you mean barbecue sauce?

PUNCH:                Yes. Barb q slaw. Good on meat. Make juicy.

MOOSE:               So Super Chief…you ahhh…your skin color dude looks like my first turd after eating glowing radstag. What’s up with that?

PUNCH:                Supermutant’s all green. We all this way. Something happen…from before…hurt’s to think about it. Lived in The Hunt Village once…long time ago.

MOOSE:               Hunt Village? Huntersville?

PUNCH:                Yes. Hunt Village. Men came…puny humans in metal machines. Took us all way. Punch don’t remember. Wake up in tube. All green. Something happen…glass break. Punch get free and run away from bad place.

MOOSE:               You got any friends and family bro?

PUNCH:                Punch had clan he roam with. They take over Graf Ton Steel. Punch want to make brew. Brew good…make time pass…fun with friends. Leader dickhead named Claw…he say NO. Puny humans make brew. Punch wear trash can and guard the meat bags. Punch say Claw pale green instead of dark green. HE soft. Claw and clan kick Punch out. So Punch all alone.

MOOSE:               Geez…well I’ll you what big bro, I’m just gettin’ goin’ out here, but I think makin’ brew sounds awesome. My old man used to run an illegal jury rigged moonshine still in one of the backup generator rooms. I’d love to start cooking up some craft brew to make some caps. You got any of that brew you made?

PUNCH:                Punch do. Punch share. Here…in old glass jar.

MOOSE:               Hoooo wheee! This smells like your feet dude. Look out tongue here it comes!

DRINKING NOISE. MOOSE STARTS COUGHING AND SPLUTTERING.

MOOSE:               Jesus Christ! This stuff could strip the paint off the side of a barn.

PUNCH:                Bear burgers ready. Not overcook. Taste like rocks. Punch make dinner.

MOOSE:               Ohh…I feel funny…everything looks like sound and tastes like colors.

PUNCH:                Punch ferment with mushrooms in woods. Human must not drink it well. Dinner ready. We eat now.

MOOSE:               Oooh…look at the juice in this burger dude. Let’s dig in. Slather some of your gravy on that for me.

MUNCHING SOUNDS. FIRE CRACKLES.

PUNCH:                Bear burger good. Punch like.

MOOSE:               I’ll tell you what bro, this barbecue sauce you made is killer. We start bottling this stuff and craft some home down home country brews…we’ll be rolling in caps!

PUNCH:                Moose like cook. Like make brew with supermutant smelling human. Friends?

HIGH FIVE SLAP.

MOOSE:               Friends!

LONG SLOW DRAWN OUT FART NOISE IS HEARD. MOOSE START LAUGHING.

MOOSE:               (laughs)

PUNCH:                Punch’s brew making funny noise when coming out. Still working on recipe.

STOMACH GRUMBLING NOISE IS HEARD.

MOOSE:               Oh hell…if it affects you that way. You ever had a human drink this stuff?

PUNCH:                No. Punch eat other humans he meet.

EXPLOSIVE FART IS HEARD. MOOSE IS FLOWN THROUGH THE AIR, CRASHES THROUGH THE WALL OF HIS SHACK.

PUNCH:                Silly human.

MOOSE:               Jesus Christ…it blew out my pants…and I trashed my wall!

SCENE 5: EXT. DARLING SISTER’S LAB. BIRDS SINGING.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 70. Sunny, clear. A quick scout of this property has revealed some…curious finds. There appears to be some sort of remote environmental testing system tucked behind one of the shacks. I attempted to access it, but it appears locked down and virtually unhackable. It appears to be testing air quality…but it is yet another mystery of Appalachia yet to reveal itself. I have been experimenting most of the day at the chemistry workbench here. I’ve attempted all manner of questionable chems and injectibles, but I cannot lift this genetic perk. If Jake were still alive…he could maybe remove this curse..but…(sigh) I am…getting hungry….again, but I did some boxes and preserved Salisbury Steak for dinner. Oh! Hey…are you…are you lost? You uhh…gotta pants?

TAPE TRANSITIONS. FIRE IS CRACKLING.

SIMON:                I’m sitting here with what I think is an albino wendigo (is that really what we’re calling these??) At first, we just stared at each other awkwardly and it became clear he was completely mute and possible mentally handicapped. His limbs are ridiculously elongated and his hands…well…let’s just say you wouldn’t want them on you. It appeared to be in need of shelter. I offered it a cloth diaper to protect itself from the elements and…Oh, want another Salisbury steak bud? Okay…ummm…maybe just one okay? Or…okay sure. Yeah. Eat the whole fucking box. (Sigh) Anyway, the only way we seem to be able to communicate is through rude sign language. His favorite method for showing dissatisfaction seems to be mimicking projectile vomiting after an evening bender on irradiated Old Possum beer. We have come up with motions to indicate friendship, cooking, yes and no, and even one for taking photos. He is…strange looking, so we posed in front of the fire just so I could have a record of him for my diary. Oh…he’s miming something…friendship? Sure, we can be friends. I’d askyou’re your name…but…how about Legs. Henceforth I shall call you Legs. Here…let’s crack open some Old Possum and enjoy the fire.

BEER IS POPPED OFF AND DRANK.

SIMON:                Do you ever wonder what the hell did they put in Salisbury steak to make it edible over 2 decades later? Like…that’s probably not healthy for us right?

STOMACH GROWLING NOISE.

SIMON:                Not again…listen to some music? What’s that? Sorry bud…I don’t know what you’re mimicking.

PIANO CRASH NOISE IS HEARD. PIANO MUSIC STARTS PLAYING.

SIMON:                Okay…he just pulled a grand piano out of his rectum.

TAPE TRANSITION NOISE.

MORNING. BIRDS SINGING. RUNNING NOISE. ANGRY MOLERATS PERSUING.

PATSY:                  Oh God! Help! Help somebody! These potatoes on legs are trying to eat my feet! (Screams)

SHOTS RING OUT.

PUNCH:                Molerats dumb. Always annoying Punch.

PATSY:                  Oh hell what are you? You’re like a big booger! You’re gross.

PUNCH:                Punch kill dumb blonde now.

MOOSE                Whoa whoa! Hold up there dude. She’s a friend.

PUNCH:                She mostly breasts. No good for surviving.

PATSY:                  Moose? Oh my god! I’m soooo happy to see you!

MOOSE:               Hey Pats! You look like shit. What happened to your hair?

PATSY:                  Ugh…choke me with a tube steak. I’ve been dying for a shower. It’s so gross out here. There’s no shampoo anywhere. I tried making my own, but it didn’t work out. What are you guys doing out here?

MOOSE:               We were heading up to that giant spaceship looking building to scout around for some supplies and ingredients to make a still and some brew.

PATSY:                  Ooohhh! Like…a bar? We could use a bar…it’s dry as fuck out here. 25 year old beer lying out in the open that tastes like the bottom of a cat box.

MOOSE:               A bar! Hey that’s an even better idea Punch. Open up the first new bar out here. We could make some brews…some IPAs, serve some burgers and grub. That would be lit!

PUNCH:                Punch like bar. Punch cook and bounce humans right out the window if they make trouble.

MOOSE:               It’s a deal dude! Hey Pats, you seen Chad anywhere? I’ve been looking for him for months. Not a trace anywhere. I miss that big lug.

PATSY:                  Nooo…I’ve just been on my own. I do run into a few of the 76 crew every now and then. I usually squish my boobs up like this and ask for help and they all white knight me with caps and free gear.

PUNCH:                Punch try that. Everyone run away. Stupid humans.

MOOSE:               You…uhh…you must miss ‘The Chad’ huh?

PATSY:                  Well you know…they say distance makes the blonde go farther. I…I just don’t feel the same you know? We were an item for allll that time and I never played the field you know? Explored other opportunities.

PUNCH:                Why you bunch you boobs up like that now?

MOOSE:               Yeah I hear that. Sometimes people just change you know? You find leave when you least expect it. I…uhh…almost thought you were real pretty.

PATSY:                  You did?

PUNCH:                Look boobs moving again! How you do that?

MOOSE:               Yeah…I always had kind of a crush on you ever since 9th grade. I had no balls to ask you out…late bloomer.

PATSY:                  Yeah you were kind of short and gangly…but I always thought you were cute.

PUNCH:                Punch throw up in his mouth now.

MOOSE:               Well…ummm…if you aren’t seeing anybody, maybe we could go on…uhh…a date?

PATSY:                  How about we find me some running first? We BOTH could use a shower?

MOOSE:               Uhhh…you mean together?

PATSY:                  Bring the RadAway.

PUNCH:                Punch feel sick to stomach.

SCENE 6: EXT. TRAIN STATION. RAINING.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 71. 38F, freezing rain. I have begun a grid pattern exploration route, radiating out from my hovel to more accurately map essentials for survival. Near the horizon I spotted a gigantic red saucer and picked up a static transmission from a woman named Rose. A call in the dark? The promise of salvation? I am ascending toward this “Top of the World” with my friendly albino wendigo by my side. Oops! Watch out there bud…you’re going to slip.

SIMON:                About 15 minutes ago…things were a little awkward. As I was approaching the old ski slope and rope tow…I felt a curious sensation as something was…filling out INSIDE my body. I felt nauseous and lightheaded and realized I was looking out through someone else’s eyes. After a brief euphoric moment, I darted to the side as some sort of quantum fold dropped my diaper clad friend into reality. He gesticulated wildly before dropping some spoiled fruits and vegetables in a paper bag, along with ammunition I don’t even use. While my dark craving insisted that I devour this creature for this idiotic “gift”, my greater desire for friendship prevailed. We’ve exchanged items and are now approaching the shattered ruins of a ski resort as night falls. We shall make camp here. There are some kind of hunched mumbling creatures at the far end of the resort. shooting wildly at a Vault dweller named, “TheFullChode”. We best stay low and out of sight.

SCENE 7: EXT. TOP OF THE WORLD. NIGHT.

PUNCH:                Punch kill now?

MOOSE:               Shhh! We have to be stealthy dude. I thought for sure they spotted us when we were battling those furiously masturbating mole people. I couldn’t believe it when I saw who it was.

PATSY:                  I wonder where the other two are…and what the hell is that thing sleeping next to him? Is that a diaper? It’s like…8 feet tall!

MOOSE:               Punch, Pats…you handle that thing. I’ve got Simple Simon…

PUNCH:                Punch no like weird stretchy human. It hands make Punch feel uncomfortable.

MOOSE:               Ready…GO!

THEY RUN FORWARD.

MOOSE:               AHHHHH!!!!

PUNCH:                YAHHHHH!!!!!

PATSY:                  Get his arms! Get his arms!

A STRUGGLE IS HEARD.

SIMON:                What the fuck? What the FUCK?? LEGS!

MOOSE:               Get that thing out of here. Take it out back and kill it.

SIMON:                Legs! You son of a bitch!

DRAGGING AND STRUGGLE RECEEDES. SCRAMBLE ON DIRT, FOLLOWED BY A PUNCH.

MOOSE:               Going for your piece? Uh uh. I don’t think so.

SIMON:                Fuck you Moose.

MOOSE:               Man you’ve got a shitload of loot…you’ve been carrying all your junk? Well…as they say…git gud.

SIMON:                No no n….

SHOT RINGS OUT AND REVERBERATES. SILENCE.

SCENE 8: INT. THE ATOMIC SHOP PURGATORY.

SLOWLY A PLINKY, CHEERFUL TUNE FADES IN.

VINCE:                  …hey…hey kid…come on kid…wake up. Simon…wake UP!

SIMON                 Ah…Jesus Christ…Vince? He…my face…he shot me in the face?!

VINCE:                  Well it’s better than having your limbs ripped off by Scorched. That’s what happened to me.

SIMON:                Where…where the hell are we?

VINCE:                  No idea. Woke up sprawled on the floor down one of these aisles. PipBoy is dead. It’s hard to tell time here, but I feel like it’s been a few days.

SIMON:                Where are we? A warehouse?

VINCE:                  That’s what I thought…but look up….

SIMON:                What the actual fuck? There’s no ceiling…there’s just nothing.

VINCE:                  Feel that little tickle in the back of your throat? Welcome to mind numbing terror. I’ve spent two days wandering down these aisles…nothing but rough hewn wooden floorboards and crap on shelves as far as the eye can see.

SIMON:                This feels familiar somehow…

VINCE:                  You didn’t happen to have anything on you when you got shot did you? Anything in your pockets?

SIMON:                Yeah…I got…uhhh some gum and some leftover royal jelly taffy?

VINCE:                  Damn…I had my pack on me, but I’m almost out of water. One bottle left. I’ve looked everywhere and I don’t see any food or water anywhere…lots of chairs and beds though.

SIMON:                Oof…that music is like hot needles in my head.

VINCE:                  Yeah I know…I pulled some stuffing out of a stuffed goat and drowned it out so I could sleep on a bed with Bland Banshee sheets.

SIMON:                Hang on…you said your PipBoy is dead?

SOUND OF FLIPPING SWITCHES.

SIMON:                That’s…that’s impossible. Mr. Simmons trained us on these things in our PipBoy orientation course. He said they have a discrete self-renewing microfusion cell power source. These devices will outlive us.

VINCE:                  That’s not all. That Robert House knew his stuff. They are designed to draw power through a variety of different means should that cell become damaged: solar, kinetic, electrochemical from your own body. When you step out that Vault door, this was supposed to be the one life saving device that will never, ever fail you.

SIMON:                Okay…getting that tickle again. Something is very, very wrong here.

VINCE:                  Let’s get moving. I’m trying not to linger too long. You’re a familiar face, but I’ve run into other people here….that have clearly been here for a while. Shadows…they call themselves the Banned. Unable to return…to move on…

SIMON:                That’s terrible. How long have they been here?

VINCE:                  Some say forever. I was able to talk to one of them before he lost control and started attacking me…saying Appalachia is shit, our Vault wasn’t real.

SIMON:                Jesus Christ…what did you do?

VINCE:                  This elevator muzak was making me crazy, so to try to keep my wits I started humming to myself. They don’t seem to like certain songs very much…or light. Most of them stick to the shadows, hiding behind shelves.

SIMON:                Look at all this crap? It’s endless….bushes in the shape of cats, there’s a spandex and aluminum suit with a robot head. What’s that supposed to be? There…a pink X-01 Power Armor, and over there…a 4th of July nightmare of Adirondack chairs and a red, white and blue overalls and shirt combo that is more Alabama than Appalachia.

VINCE:                  There is miles and miles of this stuff…some of it looks like it’s from other realities are something. None of it goes together. Been wondering if this is some kind old movie studio. It’s like falling into someone’s home décor and fashion nightmare. There’s a mannequin with a fur thong next to some dude in short shorts.

LIGHTS START FLICKERING.

SIMON:                What’s that….

VINCE:                  The lights…oh shit the lights are going out.

VOICE CRACKLES OVERHEAD.

ANNC:                  We are shutting down for maintenance. Please exit the facility. 20 seconds remaining.

VINCE:                  Come on run…we need to stick the light as long as we can.

SIMON:                Who was that?

VINCE:                  No idea! Run….the Banned are coming…

SHADOW:            ….joinnnnn usssss….

SHADOW:            …youuuuuu brokkkkeee the lorrreeeee

SHADOW:            …fuckkkkk Vault 766666666

SIMON:                They’re gaining!

ANNC:                  10 seconds remaining. Please exit the facility or you will be lost.

SIMON:                WHAT EXIT? THERE IS NO EXIT!

LIGHTS START FLICKING OUT ROW BY ROW.

VINCE:                  Run kid! Look! The aisles are ending! Come on!

SIMON TRIPS.

SIMON:                Ah shit! My ankle! Tripped off this piece of shit Vault Tec chair!

VINCE:                  Come on…

SIMON:                Just go! Run!

VINCE:                  I’ve never left a man behind now…not going to start. Up we go! Sing!

SIMON:                Country roads…..

VINCE:                  Take me hommmmeeee

SIMON:                To the placeeeee…..

SHADOW:            YOUUUU AREEEEEN’T ORIGINALLLLSSSS.

SHADOW:            JOIN USSSSSS…

VINCE:                  I belonnnggggg…West Virginia….

SIMON:                Mountainnnn Momma!

SHADOW:            YESSSSSS…STOP TRYING. STOP SMILING….VAULT 76 SUCCKSSSSSS!!

SIMON:                THEY’RE IN MY HEAD!

VINCE:                  Almost there…lights still on down there…JUMP!

COLLAPSE TO THE GROUND. SHADOWS HISS. THINGS BECOME QUIET.

VINCE:                  You alright?

SIMON:                Yes…just need a minute…

VINCE:                  Here…I think I make you a splint with these sci-fi baton things and some of this bed canopy fabric.

FABRIC TEARING IS HEARD.

SIMON:                These baton things are weird. Look at it one minute…and it looks like a combat knife.

VINCE:                  Yeah…not sure where the hell these things are from. You’re welcome by the way.

SIMON:                Oh…thanks. It’s a little unusual to get help out here. I…

VINCE:                  What…

SIMON:                What the hell is that?

NEON HUMMING IS HEARD.

VINCE:                  Welcome to the Atomic Shop.

SIMON:                Look. A vendor bot?

VENDORBOT:     Great deals today. Shop our wares, forget your cares…these camp and cosmetic upgrades will transform your Appalachia experience.

VINCE:                  Stay behind me…let’s check this out.

VENDORBOT:     Can I interest you in a Vault Boy statuette? Or perhaps some cult paraphernalia dedicated to the Mothmannnn?

SIMON:                What is this place?

VENDORBOT:     You are in the Atomic Shop.

VINCE:                  How did we get here?

VENDORBOT:     You ALL end up here.

SIMON:                Look behind him…

VINCE:                  An EXIT door!

SIMON:                Let’s get the hell out of here…

RUNNING FOOTSTEPS TO THE DOOR. DOORKNOB IS TURNED. A WHIRLING ABYSS LIES BEYOND. A WIND WHIPS AROUND THEM.

VINCE:                  CLOSE IT!

SIMON:                I’M TRYING!

THE DOOR SLAMS SHUT. THE TWO PANT OUT OF BREATH.

VENDORBOT:     Great deals today.

VINCE:                  Did you…?

SIMON:                There was nothing out there…a black void but there was something out there. Something…

VINCE:                  Huge….

SIMON:                I looked into it…and it looked into me.

VENDORBOT:     Flash sale today! Can we interest in you in your very own Bland Banshee costume?

SIMON:                We want to leave this place. How do we get back? I…died…we died. How did I get here? What the hell are you?

VENDORBOT:     Great. Deals. Today.

VINCE:                  I think we have to buy something to get out of here.

SIMON:                There…that Vault Tec pub chair set. 1200 Atoms? What the hell are Atoms?

VENDORBOT:     Coin of the realm. Items here can only be purchased with Atoms. Should you require conversion please proceed to your left and use the Dispensary.

THEY WALK TO THE END OF THE COUNTER. AN ARCADE MACHINE TICKS AWAY.

SIMON:                Welcome to the Dispensary. Exchange Caps and a Gift for ATOMS.

VINCE:                  How many caps do you have?

SIMON:                2…I…I had just shopped at the train station near Top of the World when Moose killed me. What the hell am I going to do?

VINCE:                  Hang on I’ve got a bunch in my pocket…what the hell…my pockets….they keep going…

SIMON:                You’re up to your elbow…how is that…

VINCE:                  All of my caps…they’re all in here…hang on….

BOTTLECAPS RATTLE.

VENDORBOT:     A reminder that here items ARE NOT transferrable.

SIMON:                What do you mean…

VENDORBOT:     You come with what is yours. You leave with what is yours. You cannot gift what is yours.

SIMON:                I’m NOT going to be trapped in here you tin can! You hear me!

VENDORBOT:     Is there a problem? Maybe you need to listen more…

THE ELEVATOR MUZAK BECOME LOUDER. SIMON’S HEART STARTS THUDDING.

SIMON:                Noooo! That….song….hurttsss….stop…..

VENDORBOT:     Real….goood…….dealllssss….

VINCE:                  Stop! Stop it! You’re hurting him.

SIMON:                I can’t stay here. I need to get back! I need to get out!

VINCE:                  What are you….?

THERE’S A WET SMACK TO THE HEAD AND A BODY FALLS TO THE GROUND. A BASEBALL BAT DROPS AND ROLLS AWAY. THE MUZAK DIMS.

VENDORBOT:     You cannot gift what is yours. You CAN take what is theirs.

SIMON:                I’m sorry…I can’t be trapped in here.

BOTTLECAPS ARE SCOOPED INTO HIS HANDS. THEY ARE DEPOSITED INTO THE MACHINE.

VENDORBOT:     Caps accepted. Gift required.

SIMON:                What gift?

VENDORBOT:     Please deposit arm in provided slot.

SIMON:                My arm?

VENDORBOT:     A gift is required…

A RUBBERY NOISE IS HEARD AS SIMON INSERTS HIS ARM. A PNEUMATIC HISS AND IT CLAMPS SHUT.

SIMON:                What the hell? Get this thing off me! Let go! Let go! Owwww….needles…you’re draining me….

VENDORBOT:     The Atomic Shop requires a gift…WE require a gift….

SIMON:                Ahhh….please…you’re….

A HISS AND THE CUFF RELEASES. SIMON TUMBLES TO THE FLOOR. THERE IS A PINBALL PINGING AND A DING. A CARD POPS OUT.

VENDORBOT:     Your caps and gift have been accepted. Your ATOMS balance is 2400. Please select from items for purchase.

SIMON                 Lightheaded…I can’t…read…the menu….

VENDORBOT:     You musssssttt select….choose….CHOOOSEEEE….CHOSEEEEE!

SIMON:                I’ll take…I’ll take that…can’t see what…

VINCE:                  You…son of a bitch…don’t you leave me here. DON’T YOU DARE….

VENDORBOT:     Transaction completed. Thank you for your business.

VINCE:                  I’ll get you piece of shit!

EVERYTHING FADES OUT. SIMON COLLAPSES TO THE FLOOR.

SCENE 9: INT. SIMON’S HOUSE. DAY.

THE WORLD FADES BACK IN. BIRDS SINGING.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day…I don’t know what day it is. PipBoy is working again. I…just had the worst nightmare of my life. I was in….a terrible place. It’s fading now…but it was familiar. I think I’ve been there before. There was…darkness…tacky attire and cartoonish and impossibly juxtaposed furniture styles and colors. I think Vince was there. I don’t remember how I got home…I was with Legs at Top of the World and I….wait. There are…marks on my arm. Like…needles. And…no…it can’t be….no no no no. It’s there…in the corner. It’s just…there…not a nightmare. In the corner of my room…with the morning light shying away from, as if in fear…is a pink princess bed with cotton sheets and a gaudy headboard with cotton candy towers for bed posts. It terrifies me. It terrifies me…

OUTRO MUSIC.

KEN:                       This is Kenneth Vigue, before we close this episode, I wanted to give you a bit of news on the podcast. Firstly, I continue to be blown away and humbled by the support. I wanted to give special thanks to our patrons on Patreon, whose support has allowed me to bring you the highest quality music and sound effects possible to bring our stories to life. To Amy Quintard, Ian Prickett, Paul Watson, Chris Hurst, Eric Polk, Tallie Mutter, Clair Hart, Jessica Schroer, Johnnie Ruiz, and Clint Winberry…a profound and humble thank you. If anyone of you want to become a patron, you can find the link on our website. I also want to start sharing some of the emails, reviews and messages we’ve been receiving at the close of each episode. So leave some and I’ll likely read yours! This one comes from Ahmed Eddie Legins who writes, “Soo I'm on a property, with a couple of my best guys, doing a clean out and board up... I decided that we're going to listen to the Podcast from the beginning. This has been the least productive and most hilarious 1hr & 1/2 I've ever had with this crew, so far... lol They don't even play fallout, but everyone knows a "Chad".” Thanks for listening Eddie! We hope to keep the laughs coming to you guys on the job. Now for some more news. Our two-part summer camp feature with a nod to 80s horror was our #1 more downloaded and relistened to episodes of all time. Our special Mystery Science Theatre 3000-style drive-in is up on our Twitch channel and so many of you enjoyed this kind of experience with our characters lampooning old movies that we’re going to do it again for the holidays. We had more than a few of you ask for more backstory on us, the original of the show, etc., so after polling everyone’s interest…we are going to be launching Inside Chad: The Production Journals that will drop as bonus episodes after the completion of this season. I am forever thankful for the talent of our entire cast. But we are also at a point where I could use a hand. I am looking for someone to help me manage social media. If you have background in Wiki creation, reddit management and have the time to dedicate to joining our crew, please contact me through the website fallout76podcast.com. We have coming up some great crossover stories with some of the largest player faction in Fallout 76: EATT the Establishment of Appalachia Taste Testers and more of the Fallout Five-0. We also have begun working on our Halloween Special, the background of which has a very special in my heart. Follow us on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter and please show your love with likes, shares and comments. Please remember to review this podcast on iTunes and Stitcher…it makes ALL the difference. I’ll see you in the Wasteland.