I stood in the hallway for a second with my hands on my hips, staring at that locked master bedroom, to be fair I know where to find the key but it was behind another lock door, and I didnt trust myself with lockpicking.
"Alright," I muttered, mostly to myself. "We're doin' this the easy way."
Claptrap's head rotated toward me with that calm, patient little servo hum like he was waiting for me to give him orders. I stepped to the side so I wasn't directly in front of the door and looked up at him.
"Claptrap," I said, keeping my voice low even though there was no one else down here to hear it. "Door." He stared at it. "Directive unclear," he said, flat as ever.
I pointed at the knob, then the frame. "Break it. Not the wall. Just the door." His torso shifted. A pause. Then "AFFIRMATIVE. INITIATING FORCED ENTRY."
He raised one heavy metal arm and drove it forward. The first hit didn't "explode" the door or any of that dramatic nonsense. It just made the whole frame jump and sent a sharp crack through the hallway. Dust shook loose from the top edge and drifted down in the shelter light.
I flinched anyway, from the noise it self. Claptrap hit it again. This time the latch gave up. The wood split around it, the door jerking inward a few inches, hanging stubbornly from the hinges like it still wanted to pretend it was doing its job.
He hit it a third time. The door swung in crooked, scraping over the carpet with a long, ugly groan. A hinge squealed like it was dying. I exhaled slow. "See? Easy. Wooden door's easy to replace." I pointed at him like I was praising him. "Now don't go startin' on any metal ones. I like to keep your arms from breaking, so this will be the last door we have you break open."
"ACKNOWLEDGED," he said, and stepped back. I slid past the broken door, laser musket up. The mayor's bedroom was… nice. Not pre-war fancy like some rich bastard mansion, but it had actual space. A big bed. A dresser that matched. A desk shoved near the far wall. Curtains hanging limp.
And the bed, thank the lord, looked solid. The mattress wasn't sagging in the middle, and there weren't any obvious stains that made me worry. Dust, though. Dust on everything. Thick enough that my bootprints showed like I'd walked through snow.
I stood there for a second just eyeing everything. I made myself cross the room, Nightstand first. I opened the drawer slow.
A half-crushed pack of cigarettes. A lighter. A few bobby pins. A faded little box of .45 rounds.
"Okay," I whispered, and slid the ammo into my coat pocket. Second drawer had pre-war money and a silver pen. The kind with a logo on it, some long-dead law office or city department. I took the money. Not because I expected to buy anything with it, but because paper was paper and paper was always useful, one way or another.
The dresser had clothes. Suits. Shirts. Some folded towels. A pair of clean-looking socks in the back, fucken yes. Then I made my way to a safe. I stared at it for a long moment.
I didn't even touch it. Not yet. My hands went to my pockets on reflex, feeling for bobby pins, and I stopped myself. The last thing I needed was to snap a pin off inside a lock and turn "locked safe" into "locked safe forever."
"Later," I said, and i sighed, I backed away from the safe and looked at the bed again. That was the goal. But before I let myself collapse, I needed supplies.
Food. Blankets. Cleaning stuff. Anything that made this place go from "bunker I'm squatting in" to "home I can survive in."
I turned and looked at Claptrap in the doorway. "Alright, lad. Come on. We're looting our own house."
"AFFIRMATIVE. LOOTING PROTOCOL ENGAGED." I snorted. "That's not a thing."
He followed me out anyway, metal feet thumping soft on carpet and loud on concrete. We passed the hallway again, and my eyes flicked to the direction of the gym.
That wall wasn't broken yet. Still holding gor bow, but that wouldnt always be that way. Didn't stop my stomach from tightening like it might explode any second.
I forced my attention forward instead and headed for the storage room near the kitchen. The kitchen itself wasn't exciting. Cabinets, counters, old appliances that I'd shut down as i passed. Well the ones i could guess on and were still working which wasnt many.
A strip of paper tore free from an old memo pad. I flattened it on the kitchen table, smoothed the curl out with my palm, then did it again with the next sheet.
Pencil. Not a pen. I leaned over the table, wrote **SHELTER STOCK** at the top, and underlined it twice. Claptrap's footsteps clunked behind me. "Alright, lad," I called, without raising my voice much. "Start walkin' your loop. Kitchen, sleep room, bathroom, mayor's lounge. Back here. Stop at the elevator. If ye see somethin' that ain't me, ye shot it."
His tinny voice echoed back, like the shelter itself was answering. "ROUTINE: CONFIRMED. PROTECT AND SERVE."
"Aye. Serve by not gettin' stuck, and jeeoing me safe lad. " The lights overhead stayed steady. I slid the pencil behind my ear and stood up. I placed my backpack on the table. backpack and let a sigh come out of me. Not going to lie my back was killing me a bit.
I started with the storage room near the kitchen, the one with the low shelves and a few metal crates shoved around, I remembered in game they were just used to make the place not feel empty. Maybe they actually held something in real life?
The door creaked when I opened it, as i stepped in side the first thing that hit me was the smell. The room smelled like old concrete and dust. The shelves were half-full of boxes that had collapsed in on themselves. A couple of plastic bins. A yellow utility sink that looked like it hadn't seen water in two hundred years.
And along the back wall, half buried behind a leaning shelf was a small icebox. I crouched and ran my fingers along the lid.
Cold, Not freezing cold. But cold enough, like when someone puts the ac on at like 60 when its like 90 outside. "Okay," I muttered. "You're workin'. Kinda."
I opened it. The lid resisted, then popped with a soft *thunk*. Inside was empty. No food. No old packages. That matched what I remembered. The day the bombs fell… people had came here seeking help from the mayor. And when they didnt get it they stormed shelter. They'd probably eaten anything they could find before leaving quickly. If there'd ever been food in here, it hadn't lasted.
Still, could be useful if only a bit. I shut it and stared at the side panel. There was a little vent cut into it, and the vent was half clogged with dust.
"Ah, there's your problem," I said, like the icebox could hear me. I grabbed a rag off the shelf, more like a shredded towel and rubbed the vent. Dust came off in gray streaks. The rag turned filthy fast. I kept going until I could see the slats properly.
I knew this was probably one of many problems it had. But that would be for a later project. To properly fix it. The metal crates were the main prize right now. Did they have anything inside? Would they be empty?
The first one sat under the shelf. It was a steel military-style crate with stenciling so faded I could barely make it out.
The latch was rusty and as I tried tugging on them It didn't move. I tugged again, harder, and the latch snapped open with a sharp little crack. I breathed out slowly and then lifted the lid.
Inside: emergency blankets, still in plastic. A roll of gauze. Two small bottles of antiseptic. A packet of radaway, the label still readable. And a box of bobby pins.
I carried the whole crate out to the kitchen and set it on the table. Then I leaned over my paper and started writing.
**MED / CLEAN**
* 2 antiseptic
* gauze roll
* radaway (1)
* emergency blankets (3)
* bobby pins (box)
The pencil scratched loud in the quiet. It felt good. Back into the storage room. The second crate was a dull gray one, heavier, with a city seal on the side, Boston, faded, but still there if you squinted.
This latch opened easier. Inside: A roll of duct tape that actually felt sticky when I pressed my thumb into it. A handful documents that really didnt matter to me.
**TAPE AND PAPERS**
* duct tape (3 roll)
* assorted papers and documents(small case)
I went back again. A cardboard box on the shelf caught my eye, crushed on one side. I lifted it and heard the rattle.
Inside were two bottles of purified water, labels peeling, and a pack of InstaMash. The InstaMash was sealed. The water was sealed so that was still good, that at least was something for me.
I carried them and opened the icebox again. Coldish air rolled out,"Right, you're gettin' used," and set the purified water inside. The InstaMash too. Not because it needed cold, but because I wanted all food in one spot. Easy to keep track of.
I wrote:
**FOOD / DRINK**
* purified water (2)
* InstaMash (1)
* plus what was on claptraps backpack.
Then I went back and found another crate.
This one was smaller. When I opened it, I found pre-war snacks: Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, a box of Sugar Bombs that looked like it had been stepped on, and two cans of Cram.
The snack cakes were sealed. The Sugar Bombs… maybe. The cans were in good shape.
"Feckin' jackpot," I whispered, then moved them straight into the icebox.
**FOOD**
* Fancy Lads (1 box)
* Sugar Bombs (1 box)
* Cram (2)
The storage room didn't have much else worth writing down, mostly ruined cardboard, empty bottles, and a crate full of old towels that smelled like mildew and sadness. I left that one where it was.
Next stop: the sleeping room.
I stepped into the hall, Claptrap's footsteps got louder, then he rounded the corner at the far end of the hall. He paused when he saw me, like he was checking.
"STATUS: NORMAL."
"Aye," I said, and kept walking. "Keep goin'."
He resumed his patrol, id need to find more robots soon. Just having one wouldnt be enough.
The sleeping room had bunks. Old metal frames, mattresses torn, sheets long gone. Lockers lined one wall. A couple footlockers near the beds. I went straight to the lockers first.
The first one was jammed. I yanked it. The door screeched, loud enough that I winced. The hinge gave, and the door swung open.
Inside: a dusty security uniform, folded once and then left. A police baton. A box of .38 rounds, half full. A cigarette carton, crushed so useless.
I carried the ammo back to the kitchen, wrote them down, then returned for the uniform and baton.
I didn't put the uniform in my backpack. I didn't even pick it up like I was wearing it soon. I just draped it over a chair in the kitchen so I could decide later if it was worth keeping or stripping for cloth or even selling.
The baton went on the table.
**AMMO / DEFENSE**
* .38 rounds (approx half box)
* baton (1)
**MISC**
* crushed cigarettes carton (1)
* security uniform (1 set)
The next locker had nothing but dust and a single clipboard. I took the clipboard and put the paper i was writing on, in it. The third locker had a little green lunchbox inside, the kind you'd see in a kid's cartoon. Inside that: two boxes of snack cakes, unmarked, probably pre-war generic, and a bottle of whiskey. Fallout was a bit strange in the way that this properly hadn't gone bad yet and could still be drunk.
I carried the food to the icebox. The whiskey went on the counter.
**FOOD**
* snack cakes (2 boxes)
**BOOZE**
* whiskey (1)
The footlockers were next. One had blankets and a pillow. Another had a battered med kit. The med kit had one stimpack inside, two packs of Rad-X, and some scissors that were still sharp.
**MED**
* stimpack (1)
* Rad-X (2)
* scissors (1)
Under one of the bunks, my hand hit something metal.
I pulled it out.
A little metal cash box, dented.
The latch opened with a click.
Inside: pre-war money. A lot of it. Green paper that meant nothing now, but it was still good for kindling and sometimes trading if you found the right weirdo.
There was also a key. Small. Brass. The tag was gone.
I rolled the key between my fingers.
"Right. Mystery key. That's fun." cause if I though about it the only room it could open would be the bathroom where the mayor body was. Which I double this was what it was for. Maybe somewhere out there in the Commonwealth this key opened a door. I couldnt help but snort.
I wrote:
**MISC**
* pre-war money (bundle)
* small key (1)
I moved on to the bathroom and checked the cabinets. Under the sink: Abraxo cleaner, half full. A box of detergent. A bar of soap, nice.
In the medicine cabinet: empty bottles, a tin of mentats that rattled when I shook it, and a roll of bandages.
I carried the mentats and bandages out and wrote them down.
**CHEMS**
* Mentats (1 tin)
**MED**
* bandages (4 roll)
As i was about to leave something caught my eye. A bottle cap stash. Maybe twenty caps. Now why would this be here? Its not like someone had a reason to collect bottle caps pre war? Odd but id take it.
I scooped the caps into my palm and carried them back to the kitchen, dropped them into an empty mug, and wrote:
**CAPS**
* caps (20)
I paused at the table, leaned on it for a second, and listened. Claptrap's patrol clunked by somewhere close. A door hinge squealed as he nudged it with his shoulder. Then his voice, muffled by distance.
"AREA SECURE."
"Aye," I muttered. "Good."
The counter along the wall had old cabinets above it. A little sink. Dusty shelves. I opened the cabinets one by one. Most were empty. One had plates stacked neatly, cracked but usable. Another had cups. There was a bottle of vodka tucked behind a chipped bowl like it had been hidden, and a box of BlamCo Mac & Cheese shoved in the back corner, sealed.
"Ha," I whispered, and grabbed it. Vodka went to the booze pile.
**FOOD**
* BlamCo Mac & Cheese (1)
**BOOZE**
* vodka (1)
I checked the drawers near the counter and found A can opener. Two lighters. A pack of cigarettes.
I sat back down at the kitchen table and pulled the clipboard close, pencil tapping once against the paper like it owed me caps.
"Right," I whispered. "Time to finish everything properly."
I flipped to a clean page and rewrote the header so big it felt like a threat.
ON ME — POCKETS / TOOL BELT / BACKPACK
Weapons & combat
Charge pistol
Energy cells (8)
Laser musket (loaded, kept within reach)
Combat knife
Police baton (1)
Access & keys
Overseer access card (Vault clearance)
Small mystery key (1)
Medical & chems
Stimpaks (5 total)
RadAway (3 total) . I could sell these for a decent amount of caps.
RadPills (1 bottle, ~18 pills) like the radaway a decent amount of caps.
Mentats (1 tin)
Tools & utility
Tool belt
Screwdriver + strip of electrical tape
Clipboard (1)
Pencil (1)
Silver pen (1)
Can opener (1)
Spoon (1)
Butter knife (1)
Ammo
.45 rounds (1 box)
.38 rounds (approx half box)
Trade / misc
Pre-war money (multiple bundles: old + newly found)
Caps (20) its all i have currently.
Jewelry: rings, broken chain, earrings
Bobby pins (multiple: loose + boxes) might uses a few to fix my hair a bit.
Lighters (at least 3 total)
Cigarettes (multiple packs + 1 crushed carton)
Clean socks (1 pair)
Salvage / parts
Copper wire (small roll)
Cracked safety goggles (1 pair)
Small toolkit bits (screwdrivers, screws, wrench) plus what's near the gym.....
Toy robot and a cracked cup.
I leaned over and tugged at the zipper on if claptraps pack as he walked by, and had him place it down before he went about his route.
Robot parts [few to replace arm and leg and two plating for the chest.]
Basics / living
Soap bars (multiple) + comb
Towel (1)
Duct tape (at least 1 roll in his pack)
Medical bundle
First-aid kit contents: bandages, antiseptic wipes, needle kit
Mentats (1 bottle)
Food carried over from the house
Cram (1 tin)
Sugar Bombs (1 opened box, partial)
Pork n' Beans (1 can remaining)
Money / small stuff
Pre-war money (1 bundle tucked away)
Lighter (1)
Bobby pins (some)
Nuka cola [3]
Cherry cola [1]
---
SHELTER STOCK — KITCHEN TABLE / ICEBOX / PILES
FOOD / DRINK (ICEBOX)
Purified water (2 bottles)
InstaMash (1)
Fancy Lads Snack Cakes (1 box)
Sugar Bombs (1 box)
Cram (2 cans)
Snack cakes (2 boxes, unmarked)
BlamCo Mac & Cheese (1)
BOOZE
Whiskey (1 bottle)
Vodka (1 bottle)
MED / CHEMS
Antiseptic (2 bottles)
Gauze roll (1)
RadAway (1)
Rad-X (2)
Scissors (1)
Bandages (4 rolls)
Emergency blankets (3)
CLEANING / HOUSE
Abraxo cleaner (1, half full)
Detergent (1 box)
Soap bar (1)
Blanket (1)
Pillow (1)
AMMO / DEFENSE
.38 rounds (approx half box) (if I don't shift it into my bag later)
Security baton (1)
MISC / SUPPLIES
Duct tape (3 rolls total in shelter stock pile)
Assorted papers/documents (small case)
Cigarettes: half-crushed pack + crushed carton
Lighters (2 more)
Bobby pins (1 box)
Security uniform (1 set, draped for later decisions)
Pre-war money (another bundle)
Plates/cups (usable, even if ugly)
Safe in the mayor's bedroom (still locked)
---
When I finished the last line, my hand cramped so hard I had to shake it out.
Claptrap clunked past the kitchen doorway again. "AREA SECURE," he said. "Aye," I muttered, closing the clipboard like it was holy scripture. "For now."
I carried the list down the hall with me, back to the mayor's bedroom. The bed still looked like it needed cleaning but I was tired.
I didn't overthink it. I set the clipboard on the desk, laid my weapons where my hand could find them in the dark, and used one of the emergency blankets as a clean barrier over the mattress, good enough for tonight.
Then I finally sat… and the moment my body realized it was allowed to stop, it took the opportunity to quit on me.
My eyes shut. Claptrap's footsteps kept looping out in the hall.