Silence. Stillness.
In the deepest, forgotten section of Vault 111—beyond the cryo pods, past rusted halls no longer monitored—a dim chamber thrummed with dormant power. . The lights in this sublevel hadn't worked in years, and no human had entered in decades. The area had been sealed off long before the vault was ever opened. It wasn't even on the schematics. A stasis pod not meant for humans flickered weakly in red. Hidden behind stacks of forgotten storage crates and maintenance panels, an egg the size of a small child pulsed faintly with unnatural energy.
Then, it cracked.
A spiderweb of fractures split the smooth, leathery shell. A low hiss escaped from vents above as ancient machinery jolted into motion. Warnings blinked red across a small console labeled "Subject: ASHBORN – Status: Stable | Evolution Virus Contained."
The egg ruptured with a wet snap. From within, something stirred.
Ashborn emerged with a gasp, eyes snapping open.
His vision swam with heat and shadows. His skin—no, scales—were damp with birth fluid. Limbs trembling, he stumbled forward, digging clawed fingers into the cold metal floor. Air tasted sharp and bitter, and the overhead lights stung his sensitive vision.
His mind reeled.
He had… memories. But none that made sense. Flashes of Earth—a different Earth. Cities. Screens. Voices. Names. Then a pull. A tearing. A sensation like falling, burning… being rebuilt.
And then—darkness.
Now, he was here. Awake. Alive. Different.
The system flickered to life in his mind.
/// {Ultimate Custom Made System Activated} ///
Welcome, Ashborn.Race: Intelligent Deathclaw (Variant)Bloodline: Hybrid – [Data Corrupted]Talent: Drawing Master, Radiation Absorption (Ionic & Thermal), Detection, ImmunityLoaded Material: Perfect Force Evolution Virus
"System…" he whispered, tongue rough, voice guttural and low.
The word felt foreign—and yet, familiar. It was like a part of him. More than just a tool. It was his lifeline.
He stood slowly.
His legs were powerful, digitigrade and clawed. His arms stretched long, ending in talons capable of rending steel. Horns curved gently from his brow, and his tail swayed instinctively for balance. He was small—barely two feet tall, and hunched low to the ground. His limbs were too long for his body, his tail trailing behind like a heavy whip. His skin was a dull, scaled gray with streaks of bone-colored plating down his back and neck. His hands—if they could be called that—were clawed and twitching with raw instinct.
Ashborn sniffed the air, nose twitching. Everything smelled strange — like rust and stale metal, with an undercurrent of something sharp and bitter. He took a step forward on all fours, tail dragging, claws lightly scraping the floor.
A low growl escaped his throat, more of a reflex than thought.
He was alone.
But something else was nearby.
Something stirred.
His head snapped to the left.
Radroaches. Four of them. Scuttling near the chamber's entrance, drawn by the heat and scent of something alive.
A primal instinct surged.
Ashborn didn't hesitate.
His feet slammed into the floor as he launched forward, claws out. The first radroach squealed before being torn in half. The second managed a weak hiss before his jaws crushed it. The last two tried to flee—but Ashborn was faster.
When the brief carnage ended, the floor was slick with radioactive ichor.
Ashborn stood above them, panting, his muscles tensing and flexing with fresh energy. The radiation in their bodies was drawn into him like water into parched earth. He could feel it—mending micro-tears in his tissue, warming his blood, waking something deeper.
⚡ Absorbed Radiation: Ionic and Thermal.
Minor Evolution Progress +4%.Physical Healing Initiated.Mutation Bond Stable.
He looked down at his clawed hand.
"I'm… not human anymore."
But part of him remembered being something else. A man. That knowledge burned like a splinter in his brain, but it didn't matter right now.
Survival mattered.
He explored cautiously.
===============================================================
The Vault was quiet, but not dead. Emergency lights guided his path. Terminals blinked with useless logs and faded messages. He bypassed them, driven by instinct.
Every door he touched responded to him. Some recognized his presence—his system—and granted access. Others he forced open with strength alone.
And then he found them.
Rows of cryopods.
Human bodies frozen in time. Dozens of them. Some already decaying in their tubes. Some still eerily preserved. He stepped closer to one—drawn by a strange pull.
Inside was a woman.
Slender. Brown hair. Peaceful expression.
Her presence made his heart race, in a way he couldn't explain. Not hunger. Not threat. Just… importance.
"System Detection: Subject Nora Wolf. Cryo Status: Terminating in 3 Hours."
He tilted his head and climbed down silently, padding on all fours until he was level with the pod. His small claws tapped the floor softly. He pressed a hand against the cold glass, watching the woman breathe shallowly.
"I remember… people like you."
The words escaped before he could question them.
He tried the words. They came slow, clumsy. But his mouth was designed for speech, even if barely.
He didn't know what she would be when she awoke—ally, threat, or just another wanderer—but he knew her presence would change things. The system, still softly humming in his mind, offered no warnings.
Just one notification.
⚠ Evolution Threshold: Locked until next radiation milestone.⚠ Drawing Talent: Active – Creative cognition enhanced. Sketch storage available.
Some part of him remembered language. Remembered more—colors, concepts, art, light.
Drawing.
He looked around the chamber, then found a dusty maintenance clipboard nearby. With a piece of broken graphite, he clumsily scratched lines into the paper.
A face began to form. Soft lines. Human. The woman in the pod.
He stared at it when he finished, unsure why it mattered.
🎨 Drawing Talent Engaged.Emotional Anchor Detected.Cognitive Pattern Strengthened. +1%
"Why can I draw?" he whispered to himself.
The system didn't answer.
He drew her.
Nora. Peaceful in her chamber. A moment frozen forever.
For some reason, it made the silence less heavy.
Ashborn retreated to the upper levels again, curling into a small vent chamber he had claimed as a nest. The roach corpses remained there—he would feed on them later, but for now, he rested.
His claws dug lightly into the floor as he twitched in half-sleep, dreaming not of the Vault, but of somewhere else.
Skyscrapers. Television. Laughter.
A different world.
And then fire. Ash. Screams.
He woke with a jolt.
He didn't know why the Earth in his dreams was so different from this one. But something told him he had lived another life once. Before the egg. Before the Vault.
He would be ready.
For what, he didn't know. But the world above waited.
And soon, she would wake.
===============================================================
Hours passed.
Then, far below in the chamber, a hiss of decompression sounded.
The cryopod opened.
The woman—Nora—gasped awake.
Ashborn's ears twitched. He rose to his feet, still crouched, still small, still unseen. He watched through a vent grille as the human collapsed from the pod, shivering.
He did not reveal himself.
Not yet.
But he would be watching.
And when the time came—he would choose whether to help, or remain a shadow.