EXT. TRANSITIONAL BIOME – DAY
Slowly—the desert disappeared.
Patch by patch, a new biome emerged. Low shrubs thickened into clusters of brittle trees. Grass fought through cracked pavement. The air grew heavier, cooler, tinged with the faint scent of moisture and moss.
Amid the creeping green, the broken skeletons of buildings rose from the earth—ruined homes, shattered signs, rusted frames slumped under nature's quiet reclamation.
Juno climbed a bluff, boots scraping gravel slick with lichen. He paused, catching his breath, scanning the soft glow of distant ruins, half-lost in fog and shadow.
A thin breeze tugged at his coat. Somewhere out there—they'd left a trail.
EXT. SWAMPLAND NEAR THE LAKE – DAY
New location +25xp
Juno moved with care through the soaked terrain. Each step squelched into the bog. Water lapped at mossy stumps, thick with decay. Mist clung to the trees.
Then—
The stench.
It hit like a punch to the lungs.
He slowed instinctively, hand already hovering near his weapon.
Up ahead: the bloated corpse of a Gulper, rotting beneath a collapsed thicket. Torn open. Flesh peeled like sunburned bark. Bite marks chewed deep into muscle and membrane.
Flies droned lazily overhead.
Radroaches—at least a dozen—skittered across the body, feeding.
Juno grimaced.
JUNO
(disgusted)
"Oh, lovely."
He drew his pistol.
POP. POP. POP. 5xp 5xp 5xp
Clean shots. Precise. He didn't like wasting rounds—but he liked surprises even less.
The last roach curled mid-skit before twitching still.
He stepped forward, boots sinking deeper now, scanning the perimeter.
Scorch marks blackened a stretch of dirt nearby—residue from an energy weapon. Close-range. Still fresh. Mud churned with deep gouges. Branches snapped at shoulder height.
Signs of a fight. Two, maybe three people.
JUNO
(muttering)
"Alright... so you lot passed through here."
(pause)
He crouched near a pile of scattered supplies. A satchel, waterlogged and torn. Ration packs punctured and bloated. A cracked holotape—dead battery. He flipped it over, then unzipped the satchel.
Inside: some soggy rations. A cloth, wrapped around something solid. He unfurled it.
A tranq gun, compact and worn, marked faintly with "33" on the handle.
JUNO
(quietly)
"Vault 33...gotta be the vault girls"
He tested the weight. Familiar. Unused.
JUNO
"Could come in handy…"
He perched on a nearby rock, the satchel now slung at his side. Tore off a strip of jerky. It tasted like old belt leather, but the chew gave his brain space to think.
Buzzing insects. Squelching mud. A place that swallowed sound.
He chewed, frowning.
JUNO
(thoughtfully)
"If she's from a Vault... odds are, she's got a Pip-Boy too."
He sat straighter, interest piqued.
JUNO
"…Which means I might be able to track her."
He lifted his arm and stared at the Pip-Boy
JUNO
(muttering)
"Alright, come on … let's see if I can fix you up."
He crouched beside a moss-covered log and popped open the Pip-Boy's side panel with a faint click. Tiny screws and scorched wiring greeted him. He dug into his satchel, pulled out a multi-tool, and got to work.
JUNO
He unscrewed a broken resistor, then pulled a small part from the broken shotgun he got earlier.
JUNO
"Not what you were made for, but you'll do."
Carefully, he soldered the coil in place with a spark from a cracked micro-welder. A few more tweaks—a jumper wire across the diagnostic loop, a quick capacitor reset and an antenna was made.
The Pip-Boy whined once—then stabilized.
JUNO
(satisfied)
"There we go. Bit unstable, but you're alive."
He slapped the panel shut and reloaded the OS manually.
The screen blinked. Then buzzed.
Ping.
A faint signal flickered to life. Mobile. Drifting west.
JUNO
(grinning)
"There you are, faint little signal…"
He zoomed in, rerouted the signal through a custom frequency reader he'd coded ages ago.
JUNO
He leaned back with a small breath of triumph, tightening the strap on his Pip-Boy again.
JUNO
"Alright, let's go find our vault girl try to yeah?"
He rerouted the coordinates—watched as a new dot blinked onto his map.
Real. Alive.
He finished the jerky, wiped his hands on his coat, and stood.
JUNO
(low)
"Alright then. Let's go find ourselves a Vault girl and maybe who .or whatever is with her"
A pause. He looked out across the marsh. Sunlight caught in the fog like an old photograph, faded and flickering.
Then—
A low whistle slipped past his lips.
Light. Off-key.
Cutting through the silence like hope in the gloom.
He walked on.
EXT. RUINED OUTSKIRTS – DUSK
Juno trudged along the fractured remains of a road, the sun bleeding out behind distant clouds of ash. Each step brought the skyline closer—jagged silhouettes of ruined towers and collapsed scaffolds, a forest of dead ambition stretching into the haze.
He stopped at the base of a wind-worn billboard.
A Vault-Tec recruitment poster, long faded.
The grinning Vault Boy now had its head blown clean off—blackened paint spider-webbing from the impact.
JUNO (muttering)
"Guess I'm not the only one with trust issues."
(He didn't know it yet, but the Ghoul had fired that shot. Rage made into poetry.)
Adjusting his bag, he tapped the Pip-Boy. The signal was stronger now—soft, steady, pulsing like a heartbeat he didn't know he was chasing.
He followed it.
As night fell, the ruins closed in.
EXT. COLLAPSED OFFICE LOT – NIGHT
Juno found shelter beneath a slanted concrete slab—the remains of a highway overpass groaning with wind. Nearby, a shattered Nuka-Cola machine flickered in pale static.
He sat slowly, back resting against cold stone. From his satchel, he unwrapped a ration bar and chewed in silence.
JUNO (softly)
"Okay... I find her. The vault girl. Then what?"
(beat)
"She's gotta be important if there's a whole questline just to find her."
A long beat. He looked down, brow furrowed.
"She might not know anything… but someone does."
His fingers tightened around the ration wrapper.
"Vault-Tec. They made a decision. They froze people . Left them to die. Someone knew why—and maybe she has a piece of it."
His gaze lingered on the Pip-Boy screen.
A faint reflection stared back—fractured. Just like everything else.
JUNO (quietly)
"I can't believe this is real."
The wind picked up.
Then—
Footsteps.
Gravel crunched. Muffled voices. Laughter—sharp, careless.
Three sets of boots. Moving like they owned the night.
Juno didn't move yet.
He just listened.