Sean Combs: An Accidental Hero

Prologue

In the year 2077, years of global conflict ended with a great nuclear war that destroyed the grand civilizations that inhabited the planet. In the years following, and despite the worldwide nuclear winter, humanity survived. In America, many did so by taking shelter in the underground vaults, but many more had to fight through the environment and chaos of the post nuclear world. As the nuclear winter faded, the scars of the war never fully healed, and humanity was locked in a seemingly unending struggle to rebuild upon the ruins of the Old World. 164 years had passed since the bombs fell. On the west coast of what used to be called the United States, legends were born, and new communities arose, but the "Northern Wilderness" was still wild and lawless, with the only bastions of humanity caught in perpetual conflicts of human pettiness. What does it take for humanity to put its self-interests aside? Are there any legends that can arise from the wilderness? If so, what defines a legend? And what's to be said about the ordinary man amidst the world of a story not yet told? What kind of impact can a normal "Waster" or "Average Joe" have on the big picture of a chaotic but rapidly changing new world?... Perhaps not all heroes are trying to be one, and perhaps not all of them wear Vault Suits.

Sean Combs: A Nobody

I have done a lot in my few short years on this earth, but not too many of them were in the first 18. Not many kids leave home at the age of 12 for a life of exploration, but I did. I grew up under the shelter of a roof and the care of… People, in a mysterious and desolate place called "Idaho." Well, some might've called my parents tribals, but I don't think they qualified for that title especially given our isolation. I've seen tribals out here and countless other places, but that's probably the least derogatory term of any for my parents.

I was an only child to a black father and white mother living on a homestead in the middle of nowhere. Closest neighbors we had were 10 miles away and life was so drab and boring that even at the young age of 12, I couldn't take it anymore. I don't know where dad got the food my mom prepared, but it came in every day after he went out. There were no towns where I grew up, and traders passed by so infrequently that I pondered but didn't really have the ability to openly question at my young age. I try not to think about it nowadays, but the only conclusion I got was that we were cannibals. I couldn't confirm it at the time, but now it's the only thing that made sense. Our homestead was in the middle of wasteland where nothing grew from the ashy dirt and long burnt grass and there was no livestock. Nothing edible for miles around except our neighbors and the occasional lone traveler in the distance heading east or west… Anyway, I left in the night when I was 12 not quite sure of why.

Six years later, I found myself in southern Oregon after walking aimlessly for the better part of my life. The more west I went, the more people I began to see. I was delighted to see people after knowing nobody but mom and dad for the first 12 years of my life, but learned about how dangerous they could be after enough bad encounters. I had been alone in the wasteland for so long that I was astounded every time I entered a town.

I spoke good English courtesy of my parents, but I had the discourse and aura of a tribal/uncivilized person. So, I was generally looked down upon wherever I went simply because of my skin color and clearly paranoid or ignorant nature. In my years of traveling, I believed that everyone was simply either good or bad. There was Law, and Lawlessness, Good, and Bad. I saw towns and civilization as "Good" and I saw the open wasteland as "Bad." My arrival in Oregon and particularly the town of Klamath made me realize just how complicated things actually were.

It all started after I got into trouble in Klamath by ignorantly waltzing into an odd situation. It was the first weekend of January 2241, and I was hiding in a decaying old barn.

However, I spent a while in the Klamath area for a few months prior to the incident. I observed the town from a distance and became very familiar with the theme of the town: Hunting. Klamath sat in the middle of the woods with a big trade post in the center of town, a scrapyard and trapper village to the west, and a few outlying buildings that dotted the surrounding area. A few miles north of the town, the trees cleared and there were plains at the foot of Oregon cliffs known as the Gecko Fields or Hunting Grounds. I found out fairly quickly just how dangerous the surrounding wastes were and was saved a few times by the hunters and trappers of Klamath. The Gecko Fields were named that because they spawned a nearly limitless source of Golden Geckos for which the town survived off of. Golden Geckos were feisty creatures, some stood at nearly 5 ft tall and moved very fast. They went down fairly easily, but lacking a gun and alone in the wastes, I got into more than one personal encounter with them.

By this point in my life, I had very few experiences with people and still observed the town from a distance. I stayed close enough to the town limits that the creatures stayed away, and the trappers wouldn't harass me for squatting. Every morning I'd watch the groups of trappers march north to the Gecko Fields, and at dusk I'd see them return hauling the carcasses of whatever they killed. I didn't have the ability, knowledge, equipment, or strength to hunt Geckos, so I instead lived most of that time on rats or bird meat.

I was largely unaware of everything that was going on in town since they didn't like squatters and I was penniless. Every time I entered town and went anywhere, regular residents would ask me if I was "Buying or Selling?" and when I turned my pockets inside out, they would get a trapper or two to escort me out of town. They didn't really care that I resided Near the town, and people of the area began to recognize me as a squatter whenever I got too close. However, on occasion, I did find a nifty trinket or something in the surrounding woods or outer ruins and sell it in town for a provision of some kind. So, I put a halt to my travels in those months after seeing the benefits of a somewhat stable life as a squatter Near Klamath. However, I did mention that I went into hiding, and this was where my life changed forever.

The winters of Oregon are almost unbearably cold. I heard that the Great War 200 years ago ripped a hole in the "Ozone" making earth hotter than it apparently used to be (Whatever an "Ozone" is?). That didn't change Oregon though. The snow of December and January didn't blanket the land like it did in Idaho, but the cold breeze through the dead trees made nights so cold that I experienced the crippling pain of early frostbite more than once. Anyway, most of my days were spent following the trappers and scavenging what they left behind after hunts, or I'd rummage through the hollowed out buildings of the surrounding town. However, on the first day of 2241, I stumbled into a situation that wasn't good, but set me on the course that got me to where I am today.

I wandered the area south of Klamath that particular day, bundled up with three jackets and my handy backpack when I stumbled upon a scene. Through a clearing in the woods, I found two dead men, pale from the cold and speckled by the gently falling snow. Usually whenever I found dead bodies I knew I could get some free stuff like a can of food, a new jacket, pair of boots, or hopefully a gun, so my initial thought was, "Gold Mine!" I was far righter than I initially thought.

I inspected the bodies lying face down, took off the backpacks, and turned the corpses over to reveal their faces. Both men were bald and had tattoos all over their faces, so I knew they weren't typical Trappers. I took note of several pierced holes in their jackets and removed the coats to see the swelling purplish wounds all over their chests. I stood there in shock thinking I wandered into a radscorpion nest. I quickly went through their pockets and pulled out a few bottle caps (I heard that some towns used them as currency for some reason), a couple rounds of ammunition, a pack of gum, a copper pocket watch, several teeth from various animals, and a crumpled note. I didn't find these men's guns anywhere near them, and just as I removed a leather bandolier from one of them, I heard the faint sound of something moving through the brush. Not wanting to end up like these guys, I quickly removed the bandolier and ran away with the two backpacks.

I returned back to my "home" in a hollow suburban house near the town and opened up the backpacks. I really did hit a "Gold Mine." Inside the first pack, I pulled out two handheld sawed off shotguns, 26 shells, four cans of preserved food, six lighters, two metal cooking cups, a pair of combat boots, and a sack of over 200 caps! I opened a treasure chest! I ecstatically tore open the top of the second pack to reveal a small first aid box, a sawed off 10mm automatic rifle with a folding stock, three full magazines, four more cans of food, an extra jacket, and another sack with over 300 caps! I fell back onto my mattress in awe. I couldn't believe that I stumbled across the best score of my life. I realized that I had enough loot from this random encounter to not worry about anything for months! Suddenly, I remembered that I pocketed that crumbled note. I sat on my mattress with my back against the wall and unfolded the paper. I read the barely legible handwritten words on the page aloud;

Get To Klamath as fast as you can, Fat Jimbo needs all the Muscle he can get INSIDE Klamath for when the shit goes down. The Fucking Trappers in town already don't like us and tension is on the up. Our Operation there is in Jeopardy and our client needs this situation as stable as can be for when they do their own business in the West. Protect those Caps with your life! Fat Jimbo's Boys refuse to deal in that gold from those fucks down south and won't keep up their end of the deal for Free. Touch 1 of those fucking caps and you'll fuck up the whole Plan. You Boys are my Best for a reason, but after the delivery Fat Jimbo will be your temporary boss until further notice. Take orders from him and don't make me look bad!

Metzger

I had no idea who "Fat Jimbo" or "Metzger" were but I sat there with the stupid scavenger's thought of, "Oh well, their loss!"

With my newfound wealth, I ignorantly made the immediate plan to head on into town for a night of well-earned rest. For the first time in my life, I didn't have to eat leftover rat meat stew from the night before and threw the goods into my pack for a walk into town. I worried for a minute that this "Fat Jimbo" character might be looking for his missing goods, but Klamath was the biggest town I've ever seen. There were over 100 people in it for goodness sake! What were the chances I'd run into them? I walked towards the east entrance into town as the sun was starting to set. I smiled as I thought about the look on the residents' faces when I of all people actually planned to stay Inside the town.

*I know caps aren't currency during this time. There's a hint of a purpose for that reason in the note from Metzger and more explanations later on.*