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- Joined
- Jan 27, 2011
Nuclear war was inevitable. The tensions between the People's Republic of China allied with the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and the United States of America grew even as both countries flourished and prospered. With resources dwindling, the horizon of battle fast approached. The demand for materials grew as the populations of both countries exploded, the crisis becoming ever more strained as a strange plague swept the US. Even with the advent of a cure in sight, this did little to quell the problems bubbling up, both foreign and domestic.
Then....Disaster struck. First the bombs struck Washington D.C. and California, a joint assault that would begin what historians would come to call "The Great War." A catalyst for a massive series of events that would forever change the course of human history.
Many were pre-selected by a private corporation - Vault-Tec - to be safe from the coming destruction. These individuals, these 'Dwellers', would be saved from the bombardment of light and heat above on the surface. Not everyone could be saved of course, and when the Vaults sealed up, all who remained were left to their fates.
As the years passed, the Vaults remained closed...Though not all Vaults were havens. Some were meant to test different facets of the human condition: Isolation. Exposure. Wanton hedonism. Advancement in the name of science. Many were only cruel experiments, done to capture data on how humans responded to different stimuli, different living conditions, different people....And in one case, no people at all.
But one group knew this series of experiments was nothing more than a game, one that would end in all of the players losing. And as such, they had their own Vault privately constructed, left off the grid of the main Vault network. Only the best minds - scientists, tinkerers, architects, engineers - left to be sealed into the dark entombs with one directive: Produce a savior for mankind, at any cost. And with that, the door closed in finality, and their work truly began.
==================================================================================================================================
*October 29, 2279*
Inside a sterile operating procedure laid a behemoth of a man, parts of his body exposed both internally and externally. Thousands of needles moved along hundreds of arms, seeming to weave each individual muscle fiber, each tendon and ligament. Bones poked into with syringes, injecting different colored solutions before a white paste was applied, recalcifying the entry site.
*Construction is almost complete*, spoke a hollow voice, a set of eyes on a monitoring screen watching the entire process unfold.
*Scans show no damage; the nanites within are performing as expected.*, spoke another hollow voice, a set of digital hues reading a layout showing the projected final shape of their specimen.
*Once the shell is complete...We will begin the attempt to link the main center. Dr. Halsey, that will be your responsibility. How goes the augmentation procedure?* spoke a third voice, their screen blank.
*Finished. I have preserved a brain and ensured total memory erasure. The neural implants on the replacement function identically to the ones used for this specimen.* spoke Dr. Halsey, their voice completely devoid of emotion and flat like their others.
*Then let us keep working. This specimen will be our only shot; we must give him every chance at survival. Dr. Hawkes, prepare the infusion.* spoke the first voice.
===================================================================================================================
*October 5, 2280*
The room was quiet, devoid of light and life, the only organic thing in the room being the massive man on the operating table. Completely exposed, his body still and lifeless. He stood at a massive 7'2", his body bulging with muscle and power. Short, neatly kept black hair topped his, his limbs barely able to stay on the table. his skin a healthy shade of light tan, a symbolic Atlas of a male specimen. A small arm then wormed from his left and right, a needle protruding from each as they sank into his temples. A small whining sound could be heard as a short jolt of electricity surged through him, starting all of his systems.
*GAAAAAAAAAAAASP*
The man awoke with a start, his lungs tasting the sweet air of the confined rooms as the lights came on, making the pupils of his brilliant silver-colored eyes contract before he covered himself with his arm.
*Good....Subject ADAM, can you hear us?*
The large man looked up from behind his arm, not seeing anyone else in the room. "Who are...you? Where am I?" he asked, another robotic voice chiming *You are safe, worry not. Now then...Please take a moment to collect yourself.* The man looked down at his fingers, his arms, his chest, his groin, his feet. All over. "I...feel odd." Adam replied, a third voice stating *Yes, that is to be expected. You remember who you are though, yes?*
Adam paused, his mind racing through the various memories he had. He was conscripted into this Project. Made into some kind of a super-soldier. "I do...I am Adam Strohm. Retired Corporal of the United States army. I volunteered for this 'Project ADAM'. How long...was I out?" A fourth voice then chimed in, "In due time, Corporal. Now....Once you are ready, please proceed to the training hall for your directives."
Adam shook his head, but was compelled to follow instructions....Standing and leaving the room, to begin his true quest across the remains of the US.
============================================================================================*
September 2, 2281*
It was a long year of training: Firearms, electronics, lockpicking, learning to use the new armor he would be wearing throughout his trek across the Wastes. He understood the directive enough, this group having, unknowingly to Adam, finished their indoctrination of his mind. He was to be set loose on the US to help ensure future generations would grow up strong, as well as remove any hostile and mutated elements of life that would endanger the success of mankind going forward.
Dressed in a full-suit of X-10 Power Armor, a massive departure from even the most advanced Power Armor designs of the former U.S. Government, his massive bulk seemed even more imposing. With an improved core, it would drastically increase his survivability in the hostile lands ahead, as well as augment all of his physical attributes. This was something that had apparently been custom-built just for him, and the fit was more than proof positive of this being true. It felt like he was wearing nothing at all, and yet the H.U.D. in his face gave him evidence of that not being the case. Even so, the vision was as clear with the helmet on as it was off.
His first directive: Go to New Vegas...Seek out the one named 'House'. And after leaving his complex, his weaponry and equipment stowed safely inside the sleek metal suit...He took off like a lightning bolt, his armored boots crushing stone and old asphalt alike as he strode. For miles and miles he ran, putting his new body to the test...And it felt amazing!
=================================================================================================================
"Where are ya, pretty lady!?"
"Come on, we don't bite....Much, hehehe!~"
"We know you're with House and all, but even those tin cans of hers don't mean shit out here! So just save us the trouble and we promise not ta rough ya up....too badly~"
Deep in the outskirts of the Wastes of Nevada, just a few miles south of Lake Mead, a large group of men and women in cumbersome and patched together gear - pieces of Brahmin leather, mostly but even things like truck tires and stop signs - all held by adhesive, straps, chains and prayers, scoured an abandoned homestead. Seemingly searching for someone.
"Guuuuh....Where'd she go?!" a woman with spiked twintails muttered, swinging a crowbar back and forth as she cracked another window, the sounds of shattering glass splitting the air. "I know she's got some good stuff on her; that House bitch has all these little shits carrying good shit!"
"Quit yer whining; this is where her runnin' ends. We got this place surrounded, sweetcheeks! So quit hiding! You're only gonna make this worse on yourself!" shouted a large burlesque male, his body naked save for a pair of chaps, his arms holding an old-world AK-112 rifle.
Then....Disaster struck. First the bombs struck Washington D.C. and California, a joint assault that would begin what historians would come to call "The Great War." A catalyst for a massive series of events that would forever change the course of human history.
Many were pre-selected by a private corporation - Vault-Tec - to be safe from the coming destruction. These individuals, these 'Dwellers', would be saved from the bombardment of light and heat above on the surface. Not everyone could be saved of course, and when the Vaults sealed up, all who remained were left to their fates.
As the years passed, the Vaults remained closed...Though not all Vaults were havens. Some were meant to test different facets of the human condition: Isolation. Exposure. Wanton hedonism. Advancement in the name of science. Many were only cruel experiments, done to capture data on how humans responded to different stimuli, different living conditions, different people....And in one case, no people at all.
But one group knew this series of experiments was nothing more than a game, one that would end in all of the players losing. And as such, they had their own Vault privately constructed, left off the grid of the main Vault network. Only the best minds - scientists, tinkerers, architects, engineers - left to be sealed into the dark entombs with one directive: Produce a savior for mankind, at any cost. And with that, the door closed in finality, and their work truly began.
==================================================================================================================================
*October 29, 2279*
Inside a sterile operating procedure laid a behemoth of a man, parts of his body exposed both internally and externally. Thousands of needles moved along hundreds of arms, seeming to weave each individual muscle fiber, each tendon and ligament. Bones poked into with syringes, injecting different colored solutions before a white paste was applied, recalcifying the entry site.
*Construction is almost complete*, spoke a hollow voice, a set of eyes on a monitoring screen watching the entire process unfold.
*Scans show no damage; the nanites within are performing as expected.*, spoke another hollow voice, a set of digital hues reading a layout showing the projected final shape of their specimen.
*Once the shell is complete...We will begin the attempt to link the main center. Dr. Halsey, that will be your responsibility. How goes the augmentation procedure?* spoke a third voice, their screen blank.
*Finished. I have preserved a brain and ensured total memory erasure. The neural implants on the replacement function identically to the ones used for this specimen.* spoke Dr. Halsey, their voice completely devoid of emotion and flat like their others.
*Then let us keep working. This specimen will be our only shot; we must give him every chance at survival. Dr. Hawkes, prepare the infusion.* spoke the first voice.
===================================================================================================================
*October 5, 2280*
The room was quiet, devoid of light and life, the only organic thing in the room being the massive man on the operating table. Completely exposed, his body still and lifeless. He stood at a massive 7'2", his body bulging with muscle and power. Short, neatly kept black hair topped his, his limbs barely able to stay on the table. his skin a healthy shade of light tan, a symbolic Atlas of a male specimen. A small arm then wormed from his left and right, a needle protruding from each as they sank into his temples. A small whining sound could be heard as a short jolt of electricity surged through him, starting all of his systems.
*GAAAAAAAAAAAASP*
The man awoke with a start, his lungs tasting the sweet air of the confined rooms as the lights came on, making the pupils of his brilliant silver-colored eyes contract before he covered himself with his arm.
*Good....Subject ADAM, can you hear us?*
The large man looked up from behind his arm, not seeing anyone else in the room. "Who are...you? Where am I?" he asked, another robotic voice chiming *You are safe, worry not. Now then...Please take a moment to collect yourself.* The man looked down at his fingers, his arms, his chest, his groin, his feet. All over. "I...feel odd." Adam replied, a third voice stating *Yes, that is to be expected. You remember who you are though, yes?*
Adam paused, his mind racing through the various memories he had. He was conscripted into this Project. Made into some kind of a super-soldier. "I do...I am Adam Strohm. Retired Corporal of the United States army. I volunteered for this 'Project ADAM'. How long...was I out?" A fourth voice then chimed in, "In due time, Corporal. Now....Once you are ready, please proceed to the training hall for your directives."
Adam shook his head, but was compelled to follow instructions....Standing and leaving the room, to begin his true quest across the remains of the US.
============================================================================================*
September 2, 2281*
It was a long year of training: Firearms, electronics, lockpicking, learning to use the new armor he would be wearing throughout his trek across the Wastes. He understood the directive enough, this group having, unknowingly to Adam, finished their indoctrination of his mind. He was to be set loose on the US to help ensure future generations would grow up strong, as well as remove any hostile and mutated elements of life that would endanger the success of mankind going forward.
Dressed in a full-suit of X-10 Power Armor, a massive departure from even the most advanced Power Armor designs of the former U.S. Government, his massive bulk seemed even more imposing. With an improved core, it would drastically increase his survivability in the hostile lands ahead, as well as augment all of his physical attributes. This was something that had apparently been custom-built just for him, and the fit was more than proof positive of this being true. It felt like he was wearing nothing at all, and yet the H.U.D. in his face gave him evidence of that not being the case. Even so, the vision was as clear with the helmet on as it was off.
His first directive: Go to New Vegas...Seek out the one named 'House'. And after leaving his complex, his weaponry and equipment stowed safely inside the sleek metal suit...He took off like a lightning bolt, his armored boots crushing stone and old asphalt alike as he strode. For miles and miles he ran, putting his new body to the test...And it felt amazing!
=================================================================================================================
"Where are ya, pretty lady!?"
"Come on, we don't bite....Much, hehehe!~"
"We know you're with House and all, but even those tin cans of hers don't mean shit out here! So just save us the trouble and we promise not ta rough ya up....too badly~"
Deep in the outskirts of the Wastes of Nevada, just a few miles south of Lake Mead, a large group of men and women in cumbersome and patched together gear - pieces of Brahmin leather, mostly but even things like truck tires and stop signs - all held by adhesive, straps, chains and prayers, scoured an abandoned homestead. Seemingly searching for someone.
"Guuuuh....Where'd she go?!" a woman with spiked twintails muttered, swinging a crowbar back and forth as she cracked another window, the sounds of shattering glass splitting the air. "I know she's got some good stuff on her; that House bitch has all these little shits carrying good shit!"
"Quit yer whining; this is where her runnin' ends. We got this place surrounded, sweetcheeks! So quit hiding! You're only gonna make this worse on yourself!" shouted a large burlesque male, his body naked save for a pair of chaps, his arms holding an old-world AK-112 rifle.
