Megaton was founded by survivors of the nuclear holocaust a few years after the Great War. Since then, it has remained one of the safest settlements in the entire Capitol Wasteland. Ironically, Megaton was founded around an unexploded atomic bomb, so this reputation is questionable. With a sizeable population of about thirty, Megaton has prospered thanks to its proximity to a nearby trade route, its thick, impenetrable walls, and its willingness to accept strangers. Of course, Megaton can afford to be friendly thanks to a few functioning robots and a well-stocked armory. The town has traditionally been run by a Sheriff, although Colin Moriarty currently retains a good deal of influence. Moriarty claims his grandfather helped found the original settlement, but since Moriarty himself funded the construction of the wall (and brings in Caps thanks to his saloon) this is indisputable. Other attractions in Megaton include the Church of Atom, the Brass Lantern, and Craterside Supply—one of the most progressive scientific experimentation centers in the Wasteland. And for tourists, there is the house of the Lone Wanderer, currently in the process of being converted into a museum by yours truly.

-Excerpt from The Wasteland Survival Sequel, by Moira Brown, work in progress

"Shit shit shit shit shit!"

"He's been like this for hours. God, I hope he's okay…he has to be okay…"

"I don't understand. Where's he been all this time? And where's that thing he always wore on his wrist?"

"Goddamn it, kid, get up! Shit shit shit shit—"

"Quiet, all of you! He's awake."

Alex found that he had a fuzzy hole in place of his recent memory. Fortunately, he'd been knocked unconscious enough times to have developed some procedures for survival. Step one; evaluate immediate injuries. He felt like crap, but the pain at least told him nothing was broken. Step two; assess hunger, thirst, and fatigue. He wasn't tired, but his throat was incredibly dry, and his stomach was cramping up. Step three; do a weapons check. The familiar weight of Lincoln's Repeater wasn't present, and Blackhawk wasn't in its holster. His trench knife was gone as well. Step four; survey the area, and be ready to run like hell. Alex took a deep breath, pushing past the pain, and opened his eyes.

A split second later, Susie Mack had tackled him in a bone-crushing hug. Jericho simply shook his head and sucked on his cigarette, rolling his eyes. "Damn, kid, you clean up fast." Alex stared around, dumbfounded, as Susie released him. He was lying on a cot, surrounded by familiar faces. Some seemed anxious, some seemed bewildered, but they all appeared happy to see him. He recognized Doc Church, Lucy West, the Stahl siblings. They were my friends when I lived in...

"Megaton? Am I in Megaton?"

"Damn right, boy," intoned a deep voice. Alex's head turned sharply to see a muscular, bearded black man standing near the door. He fingered the sheriff's badge on his duster and adjusted his wide-brimmed hat. The man scowled at him, and Alex returned the glare. "You got a lot of nerve showin' up here after five years," growled the man.

"Maybe I just missed your ugly mug, Sheriff Simms," Alex retorted.

They held their standoff for several seconds, and then both men broke into grins. The Sheriff reached the cot in several long strides and firmly clasped Alex's hand. "Lucas Simms, still alive and kicking," said Alex, grinning. "Damn, it's good to see you."

Lucas tipped his hat and smiled, and as if on cue, a general feeling of euphoria began to swell throughout the room. He was back…the heroic Lone Wanderer, the last, best hope of humanity, was back where he belonged…they were saved!

A stabbing pain suddenly shot through Alex's side. It must have shown in his face, because Lucas swiftly turned to address the crowd. "Jericho, Susie, you two can stay. Doc, he's your patient so do what you want. The rest of you let the boy rest." The Wastelanders began to grumble, but Lucas's voice again cut through the crowd. "Look, I know this is big news, but the questions can wait until he's up and healthy. He doesn't need all of you crowding him. Now get back to your posts and give us some privacy!" Lucas crossed his arms and the crowd quickly filed out of the clinic.

Alex attempted to raise himself up off the cot, but Doc Church firmly forced him back down. "You, young man, are in no state to be moving. Your body is under a tremendous amount of strain right now, and the best thing for you to do would be to lie down and—"

"Ah, give it a rest, Doc," interrupted Jericho. "If the kid wants to get up, let him get up. Hell, that's the first thing I'd want to do in his place…after a drink, of course…"

"Alex, what's going on?" asked Susie. "You disappear without telling anyone, giving no explanation. We all thought you were dead! Then you show up out of the blue after five years, and you start having a seizure, or a heart attack, or….or…Alex, what was that?" Alex, who was still futilely struggling against Doc Church, suddenly slumped back down. Oh god…I was fighting those dogs…but I blacked out again…and…and Dogmeat...

Alex turned to the Sheriff, feeling frantic. "Lucas, Dogmeat was shot. He was rabid, and crazed, and…I think I did it, but I can't remember…Lucas, I need to find out what's happened to everyone, and then I need to leave! I can't stay here, I just can't!"

"It's not a question of personal—" began Doc Church, but Alex was already struggling to get out of the cot. Church began mumbling something about a sedative, but a raised hand from Lucas quieted him almost instantly.

"Listen, boy, I think I'm inclined to agree with the good Doctor," said Lucas. "I didn't understand everything he told me, but from what I can tell you're suffering from extreme radiation poisoning. We've got you hooked up on RadAway, but you need to rest easy and let the IV do its work. We'll answer your questions when you're back to full strength."

Alex shook his head stubbornly. "No, no, medicine doesn't work. I've tried that already, I've tried everything. Please, listen to me; I've been gone for five years! I need to know everything, I need to make sure—" That no one else is dead because of me, Alex finished silently. Lucas seemed to understand, for he nodded and backed away from the cot. Ignoring the Doctor's protests, Alex extended a hand and grabbed the railing, fighting off the feelings of dizziness and lightheadedness. He took a deep breath and, with some effort, steadied himself. Then he glanced at Church, and Lucas, seeming to catch on, tapped the Doctor on the shoulder and gestured. Church threw up his hands and stormed out of the clinic, slamming the door behind him.

Alex turned back to the trio. "Alright, I'll answer your questions if you answer mine. There are some things I can't and won't tell you. My reasons for leaving, for instance, are mine and mine alone. Is that clear?" Jericho snorted incredulously, but one glare from Susie shut him up. Alex chose to take their silence as assent.

"So where have you been, exactly?" asked Susie. "You know, for the last five years? Did you think no one would notice you'd vanished off the face of the earth? And what about your Pip-Boy 3000? Everyone from the Vault got one, but it's not on your wrist anymore. Wouldn't it have been more practical to wear it, to keep track of your radiation levels?"

Alex laughed. "Yeah, that would have really been helpful. Like I needed more reminders that my insides were disintegrating. Just kidding—" he added hastily, for Susie had gasped—"I'm fine, my problems are nothing to worry about. That thing you saw back there was just my…immune system flushing out excess radiation.

"I've been having these episodes on and off for a few years now. Just some lingering side effects from a heavy radiation zone I encountered. I can take care of myself." Lucas raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Honestly. As long as I control my breathing and meditate a few times a day, my body will handle the rest. No one will be in any danger.

"As to where I've been…well, wandering mostly. Up and down the East Coast. I've been to Ronto, the Commonwealth, Rida, the Jersey Desert, the Appalachian Wasteland…I've been west as well. Visited Rushmore; some outlying NCR states; Caesar's Canyon. I haven't been as far west as New Vegas, though; too much conflict going on there for my liking. As to my Pip-Boy 3000, I left it here. You learn quickly not to stand out in the Wasteland, and a Pip-Boy very clearly identifies you as a Vault Dweller. So I gave it to the Brotherhood of Steel to study. So if I've answered all of your questions, you answer mine. First things first: since when do you two—" he pointed at Jericho and Susie—"guard caravans? Susie, I know that when I…left, Vault 101 was establishing contact with the outside, but how did you end up here in Megaton? With Jericho, no less?"

"Actually, Alex, Jericho and the others came to us," responded Susie. "Our scouts had already discovered Megaton by the time you disappeared, but the Overseer was unwilling to make contact until we had something to trade." Susie cleared her throat. "You, uh, know what Amata is like." Alex blocked out the name—she doesn't matter anymore, she's not important —and beckoned for Susie to continue.

"So by the time Megaton settlers showed up, we had a stockpile of food and some really crappy guns. Fortunately for us, they were willing to trade scrap metal, armor, and weapons if we could provide them with water that our filtration systems had purified. Emissaries were sent back and forth to foster relations, and we've taken it in turns to protect the caravan. It's a mutually beneficial partnership."

Alex was confused; something didn't add up. "Hang on, why does Megaton need pure water? Project Purity was activated; I saw to that. The entire wasteland had fresh clean Aqua Pura, and the Brotherhood of Steel was working with Rivet City to distribute it. Hell," Alex laughed, "Three Dog wouldn't shut up about the stupid thing for…for…"

Susie and Lucas were regarding him with serious, unsmiling faces. Jericho laughed derisively, dropped his cigarette onto the ground, and crushed it beneath his foot. "Well, Mr. high-and-mighty Lone Wanderer, here's the thing. Three Dog has been off the air for about as long as you've been away. He was a threat to the Brotherhood, so they had him removed. Simple as that."

Alex stared at Jericho for a few seconds, then sighed. "Alright Jericho, very funny. And I suppose the Enclave is back as well, and they've taken over Washington with an army of Aliens. Come on, Lucas, tell me what's really going on."

"Jericho," warned Lucas, but a vein was twitching in the grizzled man's bald head. Jericho stormed towards Alex and jabbed a dirty finger into his chest.

"You think I'm joking, is that it?" Jericho snarled, spraying spit with each syllable. "You think you can just disappear after five years and then swoop in like you're some conquering hero or something? Kid, I wish it WAS the Enclave. Give that merc army to the north and those Brotherhood assholes in D.C. something to think about. That would make our lives a hell of a lot easier! As it stands, we're swimming in our own piss and there isn't a drop of Aqua Pura in sight. And whose fault is that, do you think? You fuckin' vanish off the face of the earth and you come here refusing to tell us shit? FUCK YOU!"

Jericho turned and stormed out, leaving Alex staring straight ahead, dumbfounded. Susie swore under her breath and rushed out after Jericho. Several moments later Alex could hear the two berating each other outside. Lucas sighed and massaged his eyes, but Alex barely even noticed, so engrossed was he in his own thoughts. What is he talking about? Is this all because of me? What is going on?

"I'll have a talk with Jericho later," said Lucas. "We've all been a little high-strung lately, what with all of…well, you'll have to see for yourself. Do you think you're well enough to move?" Alex silently nodded. "Alright, come with me. Your weapons are there on the table. I'll talk as we walk."

The first thing Alex noticed was the missing bomb. It wasn't that he had had any sort of attachment to the nuke sitting in the center of Megaton. No, it was more the absence of the Church of Atom. Its cultists had, after all, made a lifestyle out of proclaiming the eternal honor and glory of their explosive prophet. Alex turned quizzically to the Sheriff.

"Lucas, where'd the bomb go?" he asked.

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Oh. That. We sold it. Visitors were getting tired of Confessor Cromwell and his crazies worshipping the damn thing. Not to mention the radiation was contaminating the water pipes. So some sleazy businessman bought it for a sack of Caps, and the cult went with it. We used the money to renovate the Church and turn it into a warehouse for the town's supplies."

Alex shrugged. "Sounds fair, I guess."

"Yep," agreed Lucas, "but Moira wasn't too pleased. She'd wanted to dissect the stupid thing for months. Could have blown us all to hell! Scientific progress my ass…"

Alex carefully followed Lucas up the rickety ramp leading to the top of the town wall. There was still some pain left in his side, but he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Looking around, he noticed that everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Settlers were running with ammunition, running with supplies, or just simply running. The elation from his return was gone, and a somber mood filled the air.

"So what did Jericho mean by the Brotherhood 'removing' Three Dog?" asked Alex. "Three Dog's been one of their staunchest allies for years, right?"

"Yes and no," replied Lucas. "About five years ago, Brotherhood chatter from D.C. went dark. The Aqua Pura shipments just stopped. We assumed things would be back on track within a few months, but they weren't. The refugees, meanwhile, just kept coming and coming, all after the same thing: fresh water. We accepted some, but most had to be turned away. After all, we were low on supplies ourselves. They all went east into D.C., and didn't come back this way again. Your friend Butch volunteered to travel to Rivet City, to scout the situation. He hasn't come back yet either."

"So what exactly happened?" asked Alex, sidestepping a passing woman laden with crates of ammunition. The woman took one look at him and nearly dropped everything. Stammering an apology, she hurried away.

Lucas chuckled. "The new regime happened. The Brotherhood of Steel emerged from radio silence two years ago, proclaiming its current objectives. They are, in order: accumulation of technology, eradication of mutation, and protection of citizens. Except that means taking everybody's technology, killing all Ghouls and all Super Mutants, and protecting Brotherhood citizens. The rest of us mere Wastelanders have to fend for ourselves."

Alex was silent for a while. Unbelievable. What happened to the Brotherhood? What happened to Sarah? "I don't understand. The Brotherhood of Steel supported my father and his research. They've worked tirelessly to protect all of humanity. I trusted them to take care of the Capitol Wasteland while I was gone. And you're saying they just took over and—"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," interrupted Lucas. "They've moved their base of operations to the National Mall, and from what we can make out they have complete control over the G.E.C.K…and, as a result, the Aqua Pura. Everybody else is stuck around the outside, fighting for territory and water. It's a goddamn warzone over there. Three Dog tried to organize rebellion, so they took over his radio station. No one knows whether he's dead or imprisoned or what. Much like you, in fact," he finished. He eyed Alex impassively as they walked. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"So what about the Regulators?" asked Alex. "Both of us were members, after all. 'Enforcers of justice, defenders of freedom.' Sonora Cruz and the rest of you, you could have mounted a counterattack to reclaim the water supply."

Lucas stopped to regard him, and for the first time he appeared angry. "Alex, look at me. I am much, much older than you. I have a teenage son who I love more than anything, and god knows I miss his mother more than anything. It would be a damn insult to her memory to abandon my kid and go off on a wild adventure. That's your job."

Alex looked down and swallowed hard. He remembered the first time he'd met Sheriff Simms. The imposing man had made him feel like an irresponsible child, and he was sure doing a good job at it now.

Lucas's steely gaze softened, and he beckoned Alex to follow once more. "It's alright. I know you didn't mean nothing by it. In any case, it wouldn't have mattered if I was single, lonely, and twenty years old. Sonora is dead and the Regulators have disbanded. And before you ask why," he added as they reached the top of the wall, "take a look for yourself."

Alex joined Lucas and a few others that were gazing to the north. One of the onlookers noticed Alex, and passed him a pair of grungy binoculars. Alex peered into the distance, trying to make out what the others were looking at. He could just make out the ruined township of Springvale, and some neighboring buildings. Then, his jaw dropped. What in the name of…

Soldiers were moving in the distance. Soldiers in rusted combat armor, with high-powered rifles, missile launchers, energy weapons and swords. There were too many to count, but Alex estimated at least fifty. The soldiers moved as a well-organized unit, setting up positions and preparing for battle with a grim efficiency that Alex had only seen before in the Brotherhood and the Enclave. Alex could also see mortar teams, several motorcycles, and even an outdated Chimera tank. Emblazoned on the tank was a shining crimson skull.

"Who are they?" asked Alex. "Raiders? Slavers? Caesar's Legion?"

"Whose legion?" inquired another one of the Wastelanders, looking interested.

"No," answered Lucas, "this is Division Eight of Styx Company, the latest gang of bloodthirsty mercenaries to set foot in the Capitol Wasteland. They are ruthless, determined, and unstoppable. Nobody knows who hired them or what they're being paid to do. But we do know that they crush and enslave everyone that gets in their way. Including the Regulators.

"They've assimilated about twenty Raider gangs and mopped up what was left of the Slavers. Even Talon Company is gone now. Styx Co. just shelled Fort Bannister to the ground and let starvation do the rest. In other words, they're the next generation of asshole. And the one group that could come close to making a difference—"

"—Has their heads so far stuck in the sand that they can't see what's right on their doorstep, aye?" interrupted a piercing Irish voice. Alex lowered the binoculars and turned to see a pot-bellied man standing behind them. The man had a full head of greasy white hair and cold, shifty eyes. Alex recognized him almost instantly.

"My apologies, mates," the man continued in a mocking tone, "but the good Mr. Sheriff has repeated his same little speech so often, I reckon I've just about memorized it! Well, how about it, Mr. Sheriff. Who's the poor sap you're bamboozlin' this time, eh?"

"Hello, Moriarty," said Alex, raising his hood. The man's scornful face instantly melted into one of supplication. He bounded forward, radiating goodwill from every pore, and began pumping Alex's hand in a handshake.

"Well lookie here, Mr. Lone Wanderer sir, I certainly didn't know you were up-and-about, now, eh? I would have been straight down to see you, now, bless your irradiated heart I would have, only—"

"What do you want, Colin?" interrupted Lucas, regarding him with a heavyset frown.

Moriarty scowled, but quickly composed himself into a smile and relinquished the handshake. "Well, Mr. Sheriff, I'm lookin' for that good-for-nothing ingrate Ghoul of mine. He ain't workin' at the bar, and he ain't with Nova, and I'm sure as hell goin' to tan his hide if he thinks he can sleep on the job in my saloon!"

"I've told you a thousand times, Moriarty," growled Lucas, "If you lay a finger on Gob, I'll break your lousy neck. Just because he's a Ghoul doesn't mean he's not a human being, although I'm not quite sure where you rank on the scale…"

"Go to fuckin' hell, Sheriff Simms," sneered Moriarty, any vestiges of civility now gone. "He's my property and I'll treat him however I please. Now where is he?"

Lucas eyed Moriarty with barely concealed contempt but did nothing. "I put him on guard duty in the center of town," he said. "Billy Creel needed some time to keep an eye on Maggie, and Gob volunteered to take over for an hour. Besides, there aren't any customers in your saloon today. I'll cover his wages."

Moriarty opened his mouth to argue when a piercing horn blast punctured the air. All around, settlers dropped what they were carrying and began heading to the front gate. The group at the top wall scattered almost instantly. Moriarty, for his part, gave Alex a quick nod and stumped off towards his saloon. Lucas swore and headed down the ramp, readying his rifle as he went. Alex followed as fast as he could.

"Lucas, what the hell's going on?" called Alex. "Where's everyone going?"

"That was Stockholm with the gate horn," replied Lucas. "Two blasts means it's a caravan, three blasts means it's an attack."

"And one blast?" asked Alex, struggling to keep up.

"Outcasts," Lucas responded, and he redoubled his pace.

The pair finally reached the center of town, where about twenty other settlers were facing the gate with readied weapons. Lucas moved to the front of the crowd to address them. "Keep your safeties on, and don't make any sudden moves. Jericho and Leo, you're with me. Let's stay calm. Lucy, ready that sniper rifle just in case. Everything's going to be fine, nobody needs to panic. Alex," he said suddenly, turning to him, "Stay out of sight. No one knows you're alive yet, and you are the most important person in the entire Capitol Wasteland. Don't do anything stupid." Alex nodded—silently promising not to stand by and let anyone die, either—and melted to the back of the crowd. Lucas turned back to face the gate, and motioned to Jericho and Leo. The two men moved towards opposite sides of the gate, and pulled hard on the dangling chains. With a rusty clanking noise, the propeller in the gate spun to life, and the door rose open.

Three bulky, shadowy figures walked inside, with radioactive wind billowing around them and blowing up dust. For one brief, wild moment Alex thought they were Super Mutants—then the dust cleared and Alex could see black and red suits of dingy Power Armor. The figures were heavily armed and armored, with laser rifles on each hip and faceless black helmets. They surveyed the crowd of armed settlers—one's eyes traveling onto Alex for a moment—before turning towards Lucas.

"We have the armaments you requested right here," said the central figure in an electronic voice. It held out a burlap sack that Leo took and inspected.

"One high-power Plasma Pistol…check. Six frag grenades…check. Three pulse grenades…check. Six frag mines…check. Two low-intensity Laser Pistols…check. One 9mm heavy machine gun…check. Looks like that's everything, Sheriff."

"And now, for the payment in return," said the figure on the left, its robotic voice revealing no emotion. Leo set the sack on the ground and handed Lucas two holotapes. Alex could just make out the words "Code Deciphered" on one before the figure in the center took them from Lucas's outstretched hand.

"Do thank Ms. Brown for the tapes," said the figure on the right, expressionless. They rotated, seemingly to leave, when a drunken roar pierced the air. The crowd turned to see Gob the Ghoul being thrown out of the warehouse into the street, Moriarty chasing after him. Gob, pleading, raised his hands in surrender, but Moriarty simply punched him in the stomach and kicked him aside. A red-haired woman broke from the crowd—Nova, thought Alex with a jolt—to stand over Gob, screaming obscenities at Moriarty, but he simply slapped her aside and kicked Gob again. Gob was begging for mercy…Moriarty was punching him again…Nova was sobbing… And no one was doing anything…they were all just watching…

Before he had any idea what he was doing, Alex was pushing through the crowd and charging the Irish man. Moriarty must have sensed someone approaching, for he was beginning to raise his head when Alex punched him hard in the face. Alex felt something crack-probably his jaw, he reflected, with a certain savage satisfaction-and vaguely heard someone shouting in the background. No matter. Moriarty was down on all fours, writhing in pain, and Alex bent down to grab his grimy shirt. The man coughed up blood. "You're gonna pay for that, you son-of-a-" was all he got out before Alex drove a knee into him and threw him back to the ground.

All he could see was a red haze. The blood was thundering through his veins, and there was a ringing in his ears. He could feel someone grabbing him, struggling to pull him back, shouting, "ALEX, STOP! STOP!" Alex jerked away and wrenched out Blackhawk, shaking with rage-

Moriarty was down in the dirt, panting and grinning craftily. His jaw was misshapen but his eyes were sparkling with some dark emotion Alex couldn't place. In his hand was a sawed-off shotgun, loaded and aimed at Alex.

"Some...fuckin' hero...you turned out to be...eh, boyo?" he managed in between coughs. " You're not a messiah. You're not...a god. You're n-not even a man! You think...think you can p-pass judgement on us? Think you're...b-better than us?" He laughed and spat out a tooth. "You can't kill me. You won't kill me. My saloon and m-my Caps are what holds this...dung heap of a town together. Hell...if you were r-really going to shoot me, why haven't you...done it by now? Maybe you're scared. Maybe...your f-filthy hypocritical 'morals' are stopping you from killing pitiful ol' me. Or maybe," he laughed again, "Maybe you're just as m-much of an animal as the rest of us...and you just don't have enough fucking bullets to pull the trigger."

The silence was deafening.

Moriarty sneered and lowered the shotgun. "That's just what I thought." He lurched to his feet, eyed Gob and Nova, and staggered off, spitting curses in every direction.

Alex turned around, noticing almost immediately that the three figures in armor were gone. The crowd of settlers were watching him, silent as the grave, as if they had never seen him before. All of them were avoiding his eyes. Alex found that he couldn't blame them.

Lucas looked like he'd just aged ten years. Then it was gone, and he was ordering settlers back to their posts, breaking up the gathering. Lucas turned back to Alex and said nothing for a moment. "I think one of the Outcasts may have recognized you. They were relaying something into a wristpiece." Alex was suddenly conscious of his blood-stained hands. Lucas watched him carefully, then grunted. "Don't worry about Moriarty. I'll keep him out of your way. Come on," he motioned, "Let's go get you some ammo."

Alex took a good long look at the town. He saw Wastelanders everywhere hurrying away, Jericho watching him suspiciously, Susie's eyes wide with fear, Nova comforting Gob on the ground. He looked down at his red hands, and couldn't help wondering whether the rest of the Wasteland would be as familiar.

Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this story! I've been really busy with school and stuff. I'll try to update this more frequently, and continue to brainstorm on how I want this to go. And please, read and review! Random reviews really rock writers'...uh...wrinkles?

Oh, and just picture Lucas Simms with the voice of Samuel L. Jackson and you'll get a good idea of his personality.

P.S. Alright, I did some rewrites to this chapter. Very Sawry. Will update soon.