[b][u][center]Wasteland Claims By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] Vault Dwellers were idiots, but nobody could deny that they had some cool toys. Problem was, most people couldn’t figure out how they worked, but if you happened to be one of the people that could, well, the world got a lot more interesting. Kneeling down by the dead Vault Dweller, Spencer worked the Pip Boy the guy was wearing off his wrist, occasionally lifting his head up to check his surroundings before going back to the task at hand. The last thing he needed was someone sneaking up on him while he worked. Finally, the bulky metal band came free. He tugged the device away, then shuffled back, ducking into one of the wrecked cars in the junkyard, lowering his head below the level of the cars and waiting. The soft hum of the junkyard sentry bot filled the air, then faded away a few seconds later, the big hunk of junk continuing its patrols. [i]Got about…two minutes…[/i] Tucking the Pip Boy under his arm, he crawled back out of the car and slunk off to the edge of the junkyard. A little wriggle under the fence, a quick glance behind to make sure that he wasn’t in sight, then he got to his feet and started running, a smile growing wider and wider on his face. A Pip Boy. A goddamn Pip Boy. # He didn’t stop running until he reached the little hut he’d set up outside of Concord. It wasn’t much, mostly scavenged from some of the other shacks that were falling apart all over the place, but it was enough to keep the rain and wind on the right side. The outside. He shut the door carefully, but it still tried to fall over as soon as he let go of the doorknob. Scrambling to grab it before it made an unholy racket, he pulled it shut again, tested it, then finally let go. He was still panting, but he barely cared. He had it. He finally had it. Making his way to his workbench, he cleared all the screws and nails and bits of plastic that he had left from previous scavenging projects to the side. The Pip Boy took their place, the brown metal along the sides still gleaming a bit despite its age. He turned it around, checking the underside for cracks. [i]Good, no radiation leaks from the battery…[/i] He turned it around again, running his finger along the dusty screen on top. [i]And no cracks in the glass, either.[/i] A very good start. He’d found dead Vault Dwellers before, each one of them with a Pip Boy, but all of them had been damaged in whatever scuffle had killed them. Not one had managed to get through the fight with their best gadget intact. He doubted that any of the raiders or bandits killing them were that bothered about getting the big bracelet at the end of their fight. They usually didn’t care about anything beyond their daily needs. Hell, that was how most people saw the world, these days. But if this worked… It didn’t take long to figure out how to put it on. It slapped into place easily enough, and he tightened it to fit his arm. Vault Dwellers were usually a bit chubbier than the rest of them with all the extra food they had down there, so no surprise. [i]Now to see if you still work…[/i] Taking ten seconds to find the on-button was a bit embarrassing, but when he did, the green-lit screen booted up almost immediately. His cheeks hurt from how big his smile grew, and he rubbed his cheeks with his free hand. “It works…it fucking works!” He laughed, slamming his fist down on the table. “Fucking yes! It works!” Cutting off his laugh as the Pip Boy shocked him, he almost threw it away before he realized that it was just scanning him. The image of the dead guy appeared on the screen, then disappeared, replaced by one that looked like him. It continued to fill out more details, from his hunger level, nutrition levels, hydration levels, health, rads – low, thank god – and more. He was honestly pretty impressed. But that wasn’t what he wanted most. No, that was in a different setting. He had heard that the Pip Boys contained auto-mappers, and if that was the case… Spencer turned the dial on the side, twisting it and watching the screen flicker from one function to another. Inventory, radio, journals, and finally, maps. “…Oh, yes…” The Vault Dweller must have been some kind of explorer, because the map was filled in from a Vault just past Sanctuary to the radio dishes all the way out west. There were little dots that had names that he didn’t recognize in the slightest, towns that he knew all too well, and landmarks that he had walked by in his own travels. Most importantly, though, there were four dots that marked the locations of different vaults, and while they might be known to some of the big-name explorers in the Commonwealth, he doubted most people knew where they were. And more importantly, he doubted that most people would be able to get inside. Not without the Pip Boy wrapped around his wrist. [i]Finally…a chance to DO something besides survive…[/i] He stroked his thumb across the screen, brushing off the little bit of dust that had settled since he had started working on the device. He shook his head, hardly believing that this was actually happening. Everyone in the Commonwealth was used to the struggle to survive. If you lived in the big cities, you had the chance to settle down, to grow, to flourish. You could make something of yourself there, but if you were anywhere else, if you weren’t part of a big, powerful settlement… Well, farmers got raided, families got enslaved, and travelers got killed. You either got real good at fighting, or you got real good at running away. And he was sick of both. It was the reality that everyone born after the bombs fell understood and lived with, but it wasn’t the only reality. If someone could claim a space for themselves, if someone could take the land and hold it, protect it, then people would come. If the people came, then they could make something of it. He’d never imagined himself capable of doing something like that, but he’d written down a hundred different possibilities of what he might do if he ever had subordinates, underlings, supporters. He’d planned out how to run a city, how to defend it if he had the men and women to fight. It was all there. It just needed the tech to get it off the ground. And now, he had access to the best tech that was left in the wastelands of the Commonwealth. Smiling a shaky smile, Spencer realized that his hand was shaking. He grabbed it, squeezing at the wrist, shaking his head several times before pulling it down to his side. Slowly, it stopped. “I can do this. I [i]can[/i] do this.” When he felt calm enough, he reached under his workbench. A 9 mm pistol, a police stun baton, and a couple of stimpaks were all that he had, but it would have to be enough. He glanced down at the map again, guessing at the distance between him and the nearest Vault. [i]Halfway between here and Starlight Drive-In…probably around the rail center…[/i] Probably between a quarter and half-day, at a walk. A little shorter at a run. Pity that there were no faster ways of getting around, but that was what it was. And if he left soon, he’d be able to head out in daylight, which would make getting around the ghouls at the station that much easier. Decided on a course of action, he thrust the pistol into its holster, put the baton on the other side of his belt, and strapped the stimpaks to his chest. Best to have them in easy reach, he’d found. There wasn’t much else to take from the little hut. He’d only lived there for a few months, but he doubted that he’d be coming back. The journey to the Vault wasn’t that long, but he doubted he’d be done there in less than a day. By the time he got back, this place would be salvaged and scavenged down to nothing. He turned in place, pulling his old leather coat – something he scavenged from a department store – a bit tighter around his t-shirt, pulling his jeans up a bit further and tightening his belt as they threatened to fall off, what with the packaged goods he found growing less and less common. He did up his boots, then sighed. “Well, goodbye house. It’s been fun.” # He reached the entrance to the Vault – Vault 99 – without too much trouble, though he’d had to spend two bullets on ghouls resting by the entrance. Much as he was loathe to just put a bullet in anyone’s head, he knew better than to think that they’d stay quiet forever, and one never knew what sort of welcome they’d find in a Vault. Just like every other Vault that he’d ever seen, it was protected with a giant metal door in the shape of a cogwheel. Spencer looked up at it, slowly shaking his head at the barrier. “You know…you used to be so intimidating…Let’s see…where’s that console…” He didn’t say much as he looked around. Talking to yourself was just one of those things that anyone started to do when they were alone for long enough, but it was smarter to keep it to a minimum. Not so much due to the opinions of others, but more because it tended to attract attention. As he rooted through the rocky outcrops that blocked off the Vault door from casual view, he wondered what he would find inside. The other Vaults that he’d heard about had contained crazy experiments as well as the powerful tech that they had available. He hoped to find a few weapons inside, maybe even some sort of experimental tech that could do things to human bodies. He’d heard that there were insane things down there, and if he struck the jackpot… Well, he could hope, at least. A little hope didn’t kill anyone. Eventually, he found a battered but still intact console. It was smashed from the sides and above, as if someone had tried to take a rock to it to make it open, but all the input slots looked like they were still working. Fumbling with the Pip Boy until he found the access wire, he pulled it free and inserted it. Almost instantly, the Pip Boy started beeping at him, and a massive hiss filled the air. Nearly pulled off his feet from the sudden suction of air pressure, Spencer watched as the great metal door slowly pulled inward, dragged along rusted struts until a gap could be seen. It took everything he had not to punch the air in triumph. The movement of the door was deafening, and he congratulated himself for getting rid of the two ghouls before starting this. There was no way that they’d sleep through something like this. As the gap spread further and further, he approached the door. It slid off to the side, leaving a massive gap more than twice the height of a person and just as wide. A walkway extended toward him, and, after a moment of trepidation, he stepped onto it. Click, click. Lights activated on either side of him, illuminating the room with lights fiercer than anything that they had on the surface. He covered his face as he stepped forward, resisting the urge to whip out his gun. After all, nothing had attacked him yet, and he doubted that it would make a good first impression. Though, it would have helped if there were people to make an impression on. Nobody waited on the other side of the door, despite the lights flickering on the consoles and the obviously active condition of the vault. He shook his head, following the walkway to the consoles. After a brief debate about whether to leave the door open, he decided to shut it. He didn’t like the idea of cutting off his escape route, but at the same time, Spencer didn’t want to tempt anyone else into his little treasure trove. And besides, he was used to tight quarters, and he’d bet that any survivors down here would be less…experienced…at survival than he was. Vault Dwellers tended to be a squishy bunch. As soon as the big door shut behind him, he set off, intent on finding everything that the Vault had to offer. [i]Let’s see what your developers stuffed you with, Vault 99.[/i] # There was less than he hoped for. Oh, sure, there were dead bodies here and there, but none of them had anything worth taking. The Vault jumpsuits were nice enough to keep some of the rads off, but that was about it, and none of them were armed. However, the more bodies he saw, the more he realized that they hadn’t died of natural causes. He stopped at the next set of bunks, looking down at one Dweller that looked like it had fallen over the bed. [i]The hell?[/i] Kneeling down, he cocked his head to the side, tracing the jagged lines on the rib cage with his fingers. They must have come from something big to go that deep, and sharp to score that hard… [i]Claws…[/i] He curled his fingers, realizing that they made the perfect shape. Whoever this was, they’d been clawed down their chest, right down to the rib bones, and he shuddered as he pulled his hand back. Looking back at the other bodies he passed by, he saw that there was more than just claw and tooth damage to the bones. The skeletons themselves didn’t look right, with more than a few of them having mutated spines, stretched out past where it could have rested inside the flesh. It was almost more like a tail than it was anything else. And the skulls… [i]No human has something like that,[/i] he thought as he saw the muzzle that stood out from one of the bodies further along. [i]What the hell were they doing here?[/i] He didn’t know, but he knew where to look. Following the hallways past the science quarters and the public gathering spots, he made his way towards the Overseer’s office. The door had once been locked, but either due to age or someone else being here first, it was open a crack. Still, he hesitated. He’d seen other ruins where half-open doors were just an invitation to get fucked over by whatever trap was hiding on the other side. Spencer knelt down by the side of the door, pulling out the baton and extending it. Wiggling the tip under the door, he tilted it slightly – BANG! And just about jumped out of his skin at the sound of a shotgun blast. The sound of ricocheting metal filled the air for a few seconds before going still, leaving behind just the smell of smoke. “Jesus Christ…” He wedged the door open further, using the baton to slide it along its grooves to the top of the doorframe. When another blast didn’t go off, he poked his head around the corner. Just as he’d expected, a shotgun mounted on a desk had gone off, blasting the space where an intruder might have been. A pressure plate was hooked to it, so it had probably gone off when he pushed his baton down, simulating the weight of an intruder. [i]Well, someone really didn’t want any visitors…[/i] Thankfully, the person just as obviously didn’t want to damage the consoles for the Overseer, because the gun was aimed at the door rather than at the rest of the room. There were some fragments of who knew what that had ricocheted back, but nothing that had hit anything vital. Seating himself in the Overseer’s plush chair, he started tapping keys. Once he confirmed that the system still had power, he started going through the list of VaultTec passwords. Every Vault had one; it was just a matter of picking the right one before he was locked out. Flicking in and out of the access system before it could do that very thing, he eventually got the right one, pulling up the start screen. “Vault 99. Finding a New Way Through the First Beginning.” He blinked. “Well, that’s about as pompous as it comes. Still…” It was going to be a lot of reading, and he didn’t want anyone sneaking up on him. Telling the computer to open all the appropriate briefings that he knew VaultTec hid in every sideways database, he went to shut the door. He didn’t want to be disturbed, and he knew how he got when he was reading. # Four hours later, he was flopped back in the chair, rubbing his face. “What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee…” Four hours of reading, four hours of straining his eyes on a flickering computer screen that was nearly dead from the lack of use. It’d given him a headache, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t useful. On the contrary, it was possibly one of the most useful Vaults that he could have run across. Vault 99 was meant to start bringing people back to the beginning. One of the Vaults where the studies conducted were pushed from a scientific, biological testing viewpoint rather than from a societal one, the Vault was supplied with a large quantity of different chemicals and hormones, as well as staffed by biologists and gene techs. It was all targeted towards a specific goal. Localized, forced evolution. It was over his head for the most part – he’d never been much of a guy for the harder mathematics – but the gist of it was that Vault 99 was intended to re-shape its inhabitants to have the right adaptations to survive the world when it went to hell. Animal genes, for the most part, though with a few other adaptations that skirted the edge of the FEV research that had been done to make the Super Mutants. It looked safer, though still very experimental, and it looked like a way that he could make himself superhuman enough to get what he wanted. Despite his tiredness, Spencer grunted and pushed himself out of the chair. His head spun, but the tech was so close now. Sleep could wait for another hour or so, at least until he could check out how it worked. The science quarters of the Vault were down near the reactor core, which surprised him until he realized what one of the mutating agents must have been. [i]Radiation,[/i] he thought, looking through the tinted window into the lab. He could see the radiation warning marks on the tubes leading down from the ceiling, shaking his head. [i]Must be for breaking down the cells before they start putting them back together or something.[/i] Either way, it meant that this was not going to be a comfortable sort of transformation. But if it worked the way he wanted, as he expected, then it would be worth it. Spencer tapped the access button for the door. Thankfully, this time there was no explosive response, and he was able to step through. The lights around him powered on, probably picking up motion as he walked inside. It wasn’t an extensive lab. They probably hadn’t had much in the way of test subjects outside of the Vault subjects, so they probably didn’t need a big one. There was a door on the other side of the room labeled Subject Storage, so he imagined that those that ‘failed’ their transformation were put there until they died. [i]Note to self, do not open THAT door…[/i] he thought as he walked up to the main console. The screen faced the door, and he could see a number of controls for the various tubes and wires and even for the table that graced the middle of the room. He was concerned that he’d need some help from someone else to actually run the transformation until he found that there was a time delay option. He could set the sequence, go to the table, and wait for it to kick in, so there was an option for that. If he was brave enough. He hoped he was. [i]How does this work, anyway? Is there an idiot’s guide to this or – yep, there is.[/i] In fact, there was a surprisingly visual tutorial built into the console about how it worked and how one was supposed to run it. Spencer leaned over it, blinking tiredness from his eyes as he watched the process. [i]Determine what sort of bondage you want, determine the characteristics of mutation, where to draw it from, how limited it is…oh. Oh. That’s…that’s why…[/i] As the list of different mutations popped up, he could see how this particular experiment got slotted into the VaultTec rotation. There were mental mutations, ways of warping the mind to created dumbed-down figures that would respond to training the way that animals did. Minds of dogs, horses, and other domestic animals were there, but also things like lions, tigers, and other predatory beasts that had never been tamed properly. Suddenly, the claw-marks and the feral behavior of ripping through other people made so much more sense. [i]Okay, note to self, never fuck with the brain…[/i] Still, there were some interesting choices, and VaultTec had put together a means of perpetuating the species if enough were changed. Cross-species fertilization was impossible, but if you were fucking with a similar mutated species… That didn’t matter for the moment, but it was worth knowing. Knowing that he was too tired to make a go of it right then, Spencer turned the console back off and left the lab behind. The dormitories were calling his name, and despite the bones in the bed, the mattresses were more comfortable than anything left after the war. He looked forward to getting the first good, uninterrupted night of sleep he’d had in his life. # It wasn’t accurate to call it a night, since there was no sun and moon to pass or exchange with each other. It was more of a ‘sleep,’ and it took him a while to figure out whether he was done with it or not. Spencer groaned as he rolled over in the soft bed, staring up at the ceiling, shaking his head slowly. “This…is not a good place to stay…” Whatever temptation he had to turn Vault 99 into a settlement had been scattered to the four winds. Oh, it was a resource gold mine, and there was no denying that, but it only took one night away from the moon and the wind and the world outside for him to see the temptations that would arise. The soft bed beckoned to him, even now, pulling him back towards sleep when he knew that he had things to do. The thick metal walls taunted him with the idea of safety, particularly with the security door. The lack of rads around left him feeling…giddy, almost. It was too much. If he stayed here, he’d start relying on the walls and the comfort of the Vault more than he relied on himself. If he stayed here, he’d start thinking like a Vault Dweller, and there was no way that he’d survive outside of these walls if he did that. Sure, it’d be a comfortable life…but there was every possibility that it would be a short one. He made the decision. He’d protect the Vault, make sure that nobody else got their hands on the tech down in the basement that could use it in bad ways, but he could [i]not[/i] set up a settlement inside the Vault. Not without everyone getting overconfident. [i]Safety’s good, if you’re contributing to it,[/i] he thought as he dragged himself out of bed, making his way down to the science quarters again. [i]But if it’s coming from things rather than people, if it’s something that you’re not part of…[/i] He’d seen it happen. There were places in the Commonwealth where mercenaries kept settlements safe, or where some genius had managed to reprogram a bunch of robots to protect his land. It never worked out in the long term. As soon as your resources dried up, as soon as you lost the ability to pay the mercs or power the robots, you found out how out of touch you’d become. You went soft. Life didn’t go easy on you. You couldn’t afford to go easy on yourself. The empty corridors of the Vault were clean, surprisingly so, and he noticed that he wasn’t coughing the way that he would have been while exploring a ruin. It was probably down to the fact that the whole place had been completely sealed up for years. After all, how was dust supposed to settle when there was no place for dust to come from? It was rather disturbing, despite the ease that it gave his lungs, and he walked a little faster. The lab lit up as he walked in again, the console beeping at him as if in greeting. Spencer stepped up to it, bringing up the list of possible mutations and going down through the different possibilities. [i]Don’t want weapons, don’t want to do too much with animal characteristics just yet…[/i] While it would be interesting to have a wolf nose or other little bits and bobs that could ease his travels through the Commonwealth, the last thing he needed was to accidentally put animal instincts in his body. He wanted to keep himself thinking like a human, understanding the world as a human. At least until he figured out what did what. So, he avoided the majority of the mammalian species that were stored, as well as the aquatic ones. Reptiles, on the other hand… Bringing up a pair of menus, he started cross-matching different visual characteristics with some of the more specific military potentials. If he replaced scales with skin, hardened properly, then it would be something almost like what the Super Mutants and Deathclaws had. Harder skin, body armor that didn’t restrict his movement. And if he added a little bit in the way of muscle, just enough to carry more material… He tweaked the different options, sometimes adding a mutation before later taking it off the list. He kept telling himself that he only wanted a maximum of five, and to keep it under that if he could. If he spotted something that did the job of two mutations in the form of one, he went with it. Eventually, he’d narrowed it down to four mutations. First, he was giving himself a subtle set of scales for skin. They’d be hardened, of course, and while they wouldn’t quite make him invulnerable to bullets, handguns and low-level rifles wouldn’t be an issue anymore. Second, he was giving himself greater strength. He went for a lower-level version of it, something that would bulk his muscles like a mild steroid, since he didn’t want to be mistaken for someone that was completely inhuman. People were jumpy these days. Third, he gave himself a shark’s ability to detect electrical impulses. Even if it only worked in water, most of the waterways in the Commonwealth were murky, and he didn’t want to deal with being blind if he ended up swimming somewhere. Finally, he’d settled on an altered mutation of the poison dart frog, highly localized to his hands, feet, and lips. Rather than killing poison, it was more of a sedative, something that he could choose to ooze as needed. It wouldn’t be a perfect defense, but it was a subtle thing that would keep him from being totally helpless if he was disarmed. With all the settings locked in, Spencer set the timer and walked around the console. The table suddenly looked a great deal more intimidating as he pulled himself onto it, and he had to force himself to take several deep breaths before he could stop fidgeting. [i]Relax. Relax. It obviously worked physically. You read the instructions too many times to make a mistake. You’ll be okay. And if you’re not…[/i] Well, if he wasn’t, he was locked up in here, and he doubted that he’d be aware enough of his situation to really think about starving to death. And at least nobody would be down here with him to be in danger. The timer hit zero, and the metal restraints popped out, wrapping around his waist, neck, ankles, and wrists. He grimaced, a chill running down his spine, but he forced himself to stay calm. Well, vaguely calm. He was huffing and puffing a bit more than he’d like, but there wasn’t much he could do about that, was there? As he strained to calm himself down, the tubes and needles and sprays that hung from the ceiling began to lower. Hydraulic arms placed them in precise positions around his body. He knew what they were supposed to do, he’d run through the different simulations on the console twice, but every time he looked at them, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. The first spray hit. It burned through his clothes, the acid spray removing his leathers with in a pink and purple mist. He held his breath, even though he knew that he didn’t have to. Little by little, the shreds wore down until there was nothing left, until he was completely naked from head to toe. His skin was red from the lingering bits of acid, but that was part of the process according to the manual. He needed to be stripped of a bit of skin for the rest of the mutation to get in. As the next layer came, a blast of cool liquid from another mister, he felt the burning fade away, soothed down by whatever it was. No sooner had it gotten into him, though – “MMMPH!” He grunted, throwing his head back, his hands clenching into burning fists as he felt little pricks and nudges of needles and tingles of something or other through his body. He thrashed against the bindings at his arms and legs, slamming his wrists and ankles against them until he bruised. [i]Fuck…fuck…holy fuck that stings…[/i] It felt like a series of bee stings up and down his body, ones that faded quickly only to hit him again. As the rippling sensations of discomfort and heat went up and down his body, though, they were having a definite effect. He looked down, seeing his pale, slightly-burned skin rising, muscles popping in beneath a build that had been a bit malnourished. Panting under his breath, he allowed himself a small, shaky smile as he saw the mutations taking effect. As the muscles grew, so too did a strange awareness. He felt a…a pressure, for lack of a better word, hitting him from all sides. It wasn’t like a physical push, but more like an awareness of something going on in one direction or another. It took him a while to understand that it had to be the extrasensory ability of the shark that he’d picked, the pressure being an awareness of electronics in one direction or another. It was…disorienting, he had to admit, but it was faint enough that he’d be able to ignore it if he really had to. Oddly, the sensation was strongest at his head, but – “Nnngh!” A sudden crack filled his head, and he felt heat running down either side of his scalp. He wanted to reach up, but his arms were pinned, unable to staunch the flow of blood. Whatever had punctured his head had come from inside, slowly working out of the top and back of his head, curling back and down. As he panted, trying to recover, he could feel more changes, more shifts. His hands and his feet felt wet, like a slime was pushing out from the palms and soles, and it took him a second to realize that his body was purging itself of sweat down there. They didn’t have room for both sweat glands and what he’d asked for, so they were getting rid of one to make room for the other. Clever, but messy. As his extremities continued to ooze sweat in the form of slime, he could feel something else. At first, he thought it was the scales that he had asked for, but no. No, it was something quite a bit more uncomfortable. Crack. “Mmph…” It was a sudden crick at the center of his spine, like he’d stretched and popped something. The table felt a bit smaller, too. Strange, but – Crack! “Nnngh!” That was definitely more uncomfortable, and…did the bar around his neck and waist feel a bit tight? A bit out of – CRACK! “GAH!” Darkness. # Spencer wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but he knew that the experiment was done when he opened his eyes. There was none of that pressure of electronics running all around him, and he must have been out for a while for the lights to be out. He rolled to his side, grumbling under his breath as the lights came back on. He reached up to his face – And stopped. “…I did [i]not[/i] ask for that.” His hand had gone from pale – well, slightly burnt-red from the acid – to completely black. His skin had become scales, though from a distance it still looked mostly fleshy, if completely torched and blackened. He turned his hand about, looking at the backs of his fingers and his fingernails. No claws, at least, so it didn’t look completely bestial, but it was definitely more of a change than he had asked for. Shaking his head, he ran his hand up his arm, wincing slightly as he saw that the color change had been pretty much universal across his body. [i]Well, on the plus side, I’m still thinking…probably shock-thinking, but…well, positives. Think about the positives.[/i] Of course, that was rather hard as he realized that he was now completely black-scaled, looking more like a monster of a shadow rather than a person. He reached the top of his head, finding some scabs along the sides of his temples. No hair, though. That had been ripped out by the roots by the scales, he imagined, but it was what else had popped in that had him concerned. Horns. Very, very big horns, and sensitive ones, too. As soon as he touched the side of one, he winced, hissing under his breath. [i]And I’ll just bet that’s where all that electro-sensitivity comes from, too. Damn…[/i] Well, horns he could hide. He just needed to get some clothes for now. He shook his head, hopping down from the table – “Whoa…whoa…” As soon as his feet hit the floor, he almost fell over. Not from slipperiness, which he would have expected, but from the fact that he was tall. Taller than he had been before he’d been knocked out. At a guess, he’d put himself at about seven feet tall. “Okay, so…horns…height…those weren’t part of the plan, but I can work with it…I guess…” He doubted that there’d be anything that he brought along that would fit him, but the Vault jumpsuits looked like they’d stretch until he could make something that would. Would need some new boots, though; his old ones would NOT fit the new, large feet that he had now. That said… He took a few experimental steps, rather pleased with how well his body moved, how light everything felt with the new muscles that he had. Despite expecting to be rather limited in movement, even with scales as skin, he found himself surprisingly flexible, able to stretch and bounce and do what he liked without limitation. Hell, he might have been a bit spryer than he had been as a full human. Overall, he called it a success, and best of all, the Pip Boy still fit, though a bit tighter than before. “Alright, so…Vault 99.” He even had a bit of a deeper voice, no longer quite so nasal and up in the tenor range, but deeper, more like a bass. “Vault 99, home of the transformation machine. Make a note of that…now…Vault 98…” He tapped the map screen, glad that it still read his finger despite being scaled. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of it not. Ignoring the slight shock that came from his new electro-sensitivity in his wrist, he found the icon for Vault 98. It was located halfway between Taffington Boathouse and the little walled-up cult of Covenant. “Well, no hiding that one from people…but you never know.” He shook his head. “Might be that they’re just smart enough to stay inside the walls.” Somehow, he doubted that. He doubted that very much. But he’d find out when he got there. In the meantime, it was time to get dressed and scrounge for anything else useful that Vault 99 might have before he left it behind for a while. [b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]