Archive of Our Own

| Year 2308 – Vault 33 |

Regina woke up every morning at six o’clock in her Overseer’s quarters. She slipped into her blue‑and‑yellow uniform, smoothing the fabric with practiced care, then ate her apple pancakes while scrolling through her daily duties on her Pip‑Boy.

With a cup of black coffee in hand, she walked to the large circular window overlooking the main hall of Vault 33 and watched the first dwellers emerge from their rooms, heading off to their assigned tasks.

She always greeted the residents she met on her way to her office, polite and composed, and her days passed in a steady rhythm of typing at her terminal, filling out forms, spending time in the chemistry lab, or meeting with the Vault Council to review decisions and plan upcoming events.

Everything had run with flawless, clockwork precision since she became Overseer sixteen years earlier.

There was only one small, but deeply irritating, problem that resurfaced every five years: the quinquennial trade with Vaults 31 and 32.

It wouldn’t have been such an inconvenience if it were only about exchanging ordinary resources. Unfortunately for her, though, the main purpose of the three vaults was to repopulate America. So even though the trades included other goods, the primary resource exchanged was Breeders.

Procreation was considered a crucial part of their lives. A duty.

And when you were Overseer, you were expected to set an example. Being a healthy, 38 years old woman, unmarried and childless, was not viewed favorably -especially given the decline in births over the last fifty years.

After all, according to the Vault‑Tec calendar, her children would belong to the generation destined to return to the surface on Reclamation Day.

But Regina had not always been alone. She had, in fact, been married twice.

Twenty years earlier, when she was defrosted from her Vault 31 cryogenic capsule, she had joined Vault 33 and been immediately married off to the then‑Overseer, Leopold White.

The man had lost his wife, Eva, just a couple of years prior, and left alone with his 10 years old daughter, he was now looking for a new wife to maintain the perfect image of the Vault‑Tec family ruling the Vault.

So, despite Regina being only eighteen at the time and Leopold nearly sixty, they married as planned.

Leopold had come from Vault 31 as well. That was how it was meant to be: Vault‑Tec trusted employees, defrosted from the past, holding the main power positions in Vaults 32 and 33.

Residents from 31 were expected to breed with each new generation in the other two vaults, whose populations had been selected for specific, desirable genetic traits.
Vaults 32 and 33 were essentially unaware breeding pools.
The secret goal was to create a lineage of ‘super managers’ loyal to Vault‑Tec, guiding post‑war society toward the company’s mission to inherit the Earth after wiping the surface clean.

That was why, whenever an unfortunate crisis occurred -usually very conveniently around election time- a dweller originally from 31 would swoop in to save the day and would almost certainly be elected as the new Overseer.

So much so, that the slogan ‘When things look glum, vote 31’, had been known by heart by the last seven generations of oblivious dwellers.

It happened that way for Regina too. When the very unlucky Great Plague of 2292 killed Overseer White and forced the Vault into quarantine, Regina -being the brilliant chemist she was- just happened to produce the chemical compound that saved the Vault’s fate, making her the youngest Overseer in the history of the three Vaults.

Not even a year later, the Council arranged a new husband for her during the Trade of 2293: Robin Locksley.

He had migrated from Vault 32, leaving behind a childhood sweetheart he talked about constantly, despite things being allegedly ‘over’ between them.

By then, after four years with Leopold, Regina knew exactly how to handle the situation -keeping Robin at bay and avoiding pregnancy.

She would give Vault‑Tec a child over her dead body.

Robin didn’t last more than a couple of months, though. After she caught him poking around her office, rummaging through her papers, the man was sadly found dead in the Reactor level where he worked.

‘Dead’ was an understatement. He had literally been disintegrated, reduced to a small pile of ash on the floor.

And so Regina was widowed for the second, tragic time.

She managed to avoid any further arrangements for the next fifteen years. Partly thanks to her success in getting her trusted colleague Sidney Glass onto the Vault Council  -that was just as unwilling to pair her with anyone as she was- and partly thanks to the quiet rumor that had spread among the residents, painting her as a black widow. That faint fear proved also very useful for her re‑election over the years.

But once Blue Ghorm was elected to one of the three Council positions, the pressure on her marital status rose again. Until one day, she received a message on her Pip‑Boy saying:

Regina snapped the pencil she was holding in half.

She screamed at Sidney for a full hour after that, ignoring his endless excuses about being outvoted and on how Widow Lucas, the third Council member, had sided with Blue out of old‑school principles.

Which is why today, a month later, her perfectly rigorous routine was disrupted.

That morning, she had barely touched her breakfast, drinking only the coffee that kept her upright after a sleepless night.

Mary Margaret -Leopold’s daughter- helped her into the wedding dress that all the Vault’s women wore on their special day. For the second time, Regina could skip the ritual of writing her name on the back of the fabric, given that hers was already there from her first marriage.

Mary Margaret carefully did her makeup and hair before easing the veil into place on the back of her head. The young woman wouldn’t stop chattering about how wonderful it was that Regina had been given another chance at love after so many years, and how she was sure this time would be the lucky one.

Regina could barely stand her, but ever since Mary Margaret had married during the Trade five years earlier, she had become insufferably cheerful -overflowing with happiness and love. A happiness that only intensified after the birth of her son, Neal.

When the time came, Regina -bouquet in hand- joined the other residents as they made their way to the large ‘open’ space where the grain hydroponic crops were located. For the occasion, it had been decorated with banners, flower garlands, string lights, and picnic tables. The dwellers assigned to the preparations had worked for weeks to organize everything and cook the banquet they would share with the people from 32.

Everyone crossed the field to reach the long tunnel connecting the two Vaults.

Standing before the massive door of Vault 32, Regina looked up at the blue banner hanging above it:

‘Building the future of America together.’

She could have thrown up.

She checked the time on her Pip‑Boy and signaled the gate‑keeper, Leory, to open the door. With a loud mechanical swoosh, the heavy metal portal slid forward and rolled aside.

When the vapor dissipated, Regina found herself facing the only person she disliked more than Mary Margaret: Overseer Gold.

Behind him stood the dwellers of Vault 32.

He limped forward on his cane, wearing a broad, courteous smile.
“Regina! It’s so nice to see you again, and for such a special occasion.”

Regina put on one of her best politician smiles. “Rupert, always a pleasure.”

“You look fabulous, dearie! White really suits you. Let’s hope this is the last time you’ll have to wear it,” he said with a sly grin.

Regina forced herself not to grimace at the bitter taste rising in her mouth.
“Let’s hope so. I was so very devastated over Robin. I know you two were close back when he was in 32.”

Gold’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly before he gave her a short stiff nod.

Regina smiled again. “As arranged, we offer you seed and machinery parts.”

“In exchange, we offer you a breeder.” Gold’s eyes gleamed.

Regina took a deep breath. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

She had spent the past month calculating how long she should stay with her new husband before another tragic incident could occur without raising suspicion.

And, more importantly, she had considered every possible way the poor fellow might end up dead.

Surely the situation was unfortunate, but if the Council and Gold kept poking their noses into her business, she would have to deal with it.

Gold stepped aside and gestured for the breeder to come forward.

Regina’s surprise was immediate. The person stepping into view was definitely not a man.

She froze, her mouth going slack for a moment before she clenched her jaw. Her eyes swept over the woman in front of her. For a long moment, she simply stared, speechless.

The girl hesitantly extended her hand, unsure of what the proper greeting was for a situation like this. With a sheepish smile, she said, “Hi. I’m Emma.”

| Year 2293 – Filly |

Emma was a special girl -special in the kind way some people used the word, and a Wasteland abomination in the way others didn’t bother to sugarcoat.

Not that she thought much about her identity as a kid. She grew up being treated like a boy, and that was simply how things were. After all, what she had between her legs didn’t leave much room for doubt. But she always carried this quiet, persistent feeling of not being like everyone else.

For starters, she didn’t look like the usual wastelanders she met throughout her life. Her features were more refined, her body slender and wiry. Her perfect blonde curls and big green eyes made her stand out like a sore thumb among the rough, weather‑beaten faces of people born and raised in the unforgiving world she lived in.

And if that wasn’t enough to raise suspicion, the tattoo behind her right ear certainly was. Small and easy to miss, but unmistakable if you looked closely: 2707.
She kept it hidden behind her curls as much as possible after a kid once pointed it out and started calling her a Synth.

But as far as she knew, she was human. An orphan, passed from place to place for as long as she could remember. Her longest stay had been at a Fly Farm, where she worked as a shitter -feeding the giant bloatflies that would later be harvested for their meat or glands. Not the best job in the world, sure, but it gave her a roof over her head and plenty of food, which was way more than most stray kids could hope for in the post‑apocalypse.

She didn’t know she was a girl until she turned 10, when her body started to change.

As she lost her baby fat and the first signs of puberty appeared, her feminine traits began to show. It came as a shock to everyone -Emma, or Eman, as she had been called her whole life, and Mr. and Mrs. Cricket, the couple who ran the farm.

Being the greedy people they were, the Crickets tried to sell her shortly afterward to a sex‑trafficking ring for a moderate sum of caps. The Wasteland had no shortage of perverts, and everyone knew there were people willing to pay good money for something like her.

Thankfully, she managed to run away before the deal went through, wandering alone into the wild with nothing but a knife and a few bloatfly sliders.

How a 10 years old kid survived the Wasteland long enough to reach Filly alive, and with all her limbs still attached, no one knew. It was nothing short of remarkable. Or maybe she just had a shit ton of luck.

She did arrive to Filly alive, yes, but barely. She had lost a dangerous amount of weight and was severely dehydrated when she was found laying unconscious next to one of the countless heaps of metal scraps scattered around town.

A blonde woman with icy blue eyes took her home and attended to her until she felt better.

While Emma drifted in and out of consciousness, the woman asked her name, and when the kid managed only a slurred “Ema…,” she assumed it was Emma.

Considering that now everyone that looked at her identified her as a girl, and that she was technically on the run, she decided to stick with it. She knew that being ‘different’ was a liability out here, so she kept her secret hidden.

Emma later learned that the woman, Sarah Fisher, owned the biggest shop in Filly: Fisher’s Supply.

She sold a bit of everything: stimpaks, guns, ammo, even some Vault‑Tec gear and pre‑war tech.

When Emma was strong enough to walk again, she had nowhere to go, so she spent most of her time hanging around the shop. Eventually Sarah put her to work with small chores and, after a while, they reached the agreement that Emma could sleep there and earn a few caps if she helped out.

Sarah wasn’t particularly warm or nurturing. She was a businesswoman first and foremost. With no children of her own after her husband’s death, she simply needed an extra pair of hands, and she found them in the girl.

Emma was used to working for her meals; nothing came for free in the Wasteland. And this job was far nicer -and smelled far better- than anything she’d done before.

She loved poking around the random objects that came in to be sold. She asked Sarah a thousand questions about pre‑war tech and the Vaults, to which the woman usually replied with a tired, “I don’t know. Go read about it.”

The problem was that when you’re an orphan who shits to feed bloatflies, no one bothers teaching you how to read. Emma was illiterate.

She had taught herself a few simple words she saw everywhere, like “caps,” or “Nuka‑Cola”, but no matter how hard she stared at the books lying around the shop, she couldn’t make sense of a full sentence.

One day, sitting on the floor behind the counter, she pushed herself so hard that her eyes turned red and watery with frustration. She blinked back tears when a voice above her said, “I am Alpha and Omega.”

Startled, she looked up to see a kid not much older than her, with a disfigured, fleshy face leaning over the counter. A ghoul. She had heard of them, but never actually met one before, let alone a kid ghoul.

“What?” she sniffled.

“The passage you’re reading.” He pointed at the book. “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life, freely.” He recited solemnly. “Revelation 21:6.”

Emma frowned. “What’s Revelation?”

The boy looked just as confused. “Revelation. From the Bible. You’re reading the Bible.”

Emma closed the book and stared at the cover as if she could read it. “Oh… yeah.”

The boy hopped off the counter and reached behind it to crouch beside her. “You don’t know how to read?” he asked, tilting his head.

She shook her head, eyes fixed on the floor.
He patted her shoulder and chuckled. “Well, you picked the wrong book to learn from. You should pick something easier, this one’s ancient!”

Emma looked up at him, a tiny smile finally tugging at her lips.

“You should learn the alphabet first. It’ll help,” he said gently. “If you want, I can teach you.”

Emma’s face lit up. “Really?”

And just like that, her friendship with August was born.

She learned that he and his father, Marco, were originally from Shady Sands. After the bombing in 2283, which they miraculously survived, they absorbed so much radiation that they eventually turned into ghouls.

He told her about Shady Sands and the NCR, about the school he used to attend, and about his father’s work as a handyman.

Ghouls weren’t exactly welcomed in Filly, but Marco was so good at his job that people tolerated him and his son -even if Emma could still see the dirty looks August got whenever they hung out on the metal catwalks.

August helped his father and they earned a decent amount of caps, most of which went toward the RadAway he bought weekly at Sarah’s shop.

Emma had never truly had a friend before. At the farm, the kids weren’t kind, and after the Synth incident they openly mocked her. The teasing turned into bullying once she began to look more like a girl. They told stories about how she’d been created at the Institute and engineered to be a freak.

They tried to beat her up more than once, but she was strong for her age and kicked their asses every time. Eventually they stopped trying.

Still, she felt utterly alone. Like an oasis in the middle of the California desert.

That’s why August was a breath of fresh air. He taught her to read, write, and do basic math. And once Emma learned to read properly, a whole new world opened up for her. She devoured books on every topic she could find: science, anatomy, poetry, literature, science-fiction… talking of which, she had finally managed to finish reading the Bible, which August claimed was the most popular book ever written. She didn’t like it much, but appreciated a few passages.

Emma absorbed everything. She remembered things easily. Within a year, she was the one rambling nonstop to August about random facts she’d read, and even helping him with his math exercises. Unlike Shady Sands, Filly had no schools, so Marco made his son study at home whenever he could.

She also discovered music. When Sarah was out, Emma would grab a vinyl from the shelves, put it on, and dance around the shop like a fool while she tidied up.

But no matter how much she worked, the caps she earned barely covered her daily food.

So she started stealing.

Filly wasn’t exactly known to be a pristine and peaceful town. People got robbed and killed in broad daylight all the time here, therefore Emma wasn’t doing anything too out of the ordinary really.

She never stole from the shop, she couldn’t risk being kicked out, but she became very good at pickpocketing the strangers who passed through town. She was tiny and quick, her steps light as a feather as she slipped behind them and lifted whatever they carried.

She brought the loot to Sarah, who paid her extra caps without asking questions. To Sarah, caps were caps.

A thin, gray‑skinned stranger with shoulder‑length hair had arrived in Filly, leaning on a cane. He wore an oversized leather coat and carried a bag slung over one shoulder. He didn’t look like the usual travelers Emma saw drifting through town, he was more composed, cleaner, and that usually meant two things: poor self‑defense skills and plenty of caps.

Emma moved behind him with practiced stealth and slid her hand into his pocket. Her fingers closed around a gold pocket watch, which she quickly hid in her pants. She reached into the other pocket and felt the familiar metal texture of caps.

Knew it. He’s loaded.

She grabbed a handful and was about to dart away when a hand clamped around her wrist, stopping her cold. The grip was so tight she hissed in pain, dropping the caps to the ground.

The man shoved her roughly in front of him.
“Look at what we have here. A little radroach thief.” He smiled down at her mockingly, his gold tooth glinting in the sunlight. “You thought you could steal from me, dearie?”

Emma pulled with all her strength, trying to break free, but the man was far stronger than he appeared. He tucked his cane under his arm and grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her head back.

He looked at her, at first just to see the silly kid who had tried to pull it off under his nose, but when he got a better look at her face, his smile faltered slightly.

He narrowed his eyes, studying her features, then tilted Emma’s head to the side, pulling her hair out of the way and uncovering the tattoo. His chilling smile curled back up on his thin lips.

“Well, well… not just a common radroach after all.”

His eyes darted to the girl’s crotch.

“What did you end up with, girl? If they threw you away you must’ve been born with half the deal, am I right?”

Emma froze, eyes wide.

“They wouldn’t have kicked out a pretty girl like you if you’d been born at least normal. You’d have ended up just like your mother, popping out kids as soon as you were old enough.”

Before Emma could react, August came running toward them and shoved at the man.

“Let her go!”

The man didn’t budge. “Back off, ghoul.” His voice calm, his attention still fixed on Emma.

When August tried again, the man pulled his cane from under his arm and hit the boy hard in the stomach, making him fall to the ground with a sharp cry.  

Heads turned, watching the scene with bored detachment.

Marco burst out of his workshop at the sound, dropping to his knees beside his son. “What did you do to him!?”

Only then did the stranger lift his gaze from Emma.

“Ah, abomination senior. Tell your boy to keep his nose out of other people’s business. I’m sure he’d remember that better if he actually had a nose.”

Marco clenched his fists, his eyes darting between him and Emma.
“Let the girl go. People of Filly don’t take well to strangers coming here and harassing children.”

The man looked around, amused, as the townsfolk continued watching without lifting a finger.

“Oh, really?” he said with a high chuckle.

Everyone in the Wasteland knew the rule: don’t get involved in someone else’s trouble, unless there’s something in it for you. Filly was no exception, actually it was the perfect example of this.

Still clutching his stomach, August rasped, “She’s the Fisher’s girl! You can’t treat her like that!”

He hoped invoking Sarah Fisher’s name would push someone to intervene, since she had the means to reward anyone who’d help her apprentice.

But everyone knew Sarah cared more about caps than people.

“Fisher?” the man repeated, eyes narrowing. “From Fisher’s Supply?”

He smiled. “What a lucky coincidence! I was just heading there to do some business.”

He tightened his grip on Emma’s wrist and dragged her toward the shop.

When the ragged metal door of Fisher’s Supply banged open, Sarah looked up from her ledger. She straightened behind the counter, calmly observing the odd man with the cane.

“How can I help you?”

The man smiled. “Hello, dearie. I hear this dirty little thief is your daughter?”
He shoved Emma forward.

He knew perfectly well she wasn’t, but framing it that way made Sarah seem responsible.

Sarah scoffed. “Daughter? No. She’s just an apprentice I scooped off the streets. She was half-dead when I found her. I gave her a roof, and now she works for me.”

Emma clenched her fists, trying again to pull free.

“Stay still, girl,” the man hissed.
“How noble of you,” he said to Sarah. “But that doesn’t change the fact that your apprentice tried to rob me.”

He reached into Emma’s pocket and pulled out the gold watch.

“And to think I came here to spend a lot of caps! I certainly wasn’t expecting such a poor welcome.”

Sarah’s curiosity spiked as soon as the words ‘spend’ and ‘caps’ left his mouth. She knew how these things went, so she cut right to the point. “What do you want?”

A chilling smile spread across the man’s face once again. “I’ve heard you’ve got your hands on some RobCo brain‑computer chips.”

Sarah observed him quietly for a moment. “Maybe you heard right. But those are pretty expensive, as you can imagine.”

“Oh, caps I do not lack, dearie. But I think we should come to a good deal for both of us, considering the circumstances.” His eyes flicked to Emma, then back to the woman.

Sarah pursed her lips, sighing frustratedly as she looked at the girl.

“Five chips and one controller. 5000 caps. I can’t guarantee they work.”

The man let out another shrill chuckle.
“Are you trying to rob me too? 3000 caps are more than enough, don’t you think?”

Sarah put her hands on her hips, replying coolly, “You know you won’t find those chips anywhere else anytime soon. 4500 caps. Final offer. Just because of the… inconvenience.”

He took a deep, contemplative breath, eyes gleaming with calculation.

“Throw in the girl, and we have a deal.”

Sarah frowned, glancing between him and Emma. Emma had gone still, staring at him with wide, alarmed eyes.

The woman wasn’t new to rich men wanting to buy themselves work slaves or… other kinds of slaves. She had never sold them herself, sure, but only because the opportunity hadn’t come up.

It was true that Emma was basically free labor for her but, right now, she was being more trouble than anything else. Besides, buyers willing to spend this many caps didn’t come around often.
So she grimaced sourly and said, “Alright.”

Emma winced, looking at her desperately “No, please! You can’t!” she tried to break free again, tugging frantically against the man. “I’ll work for free, please let me stay!” she was trying to push back tears, but her voice was breaking.
She could only imagine what a grown man wanted with a girl her age, especially one who somehow knew her secret; and that terrified her.

“Oh, calm down, dearie,” he said lightly. “You’ll be fine. I don’t intend to hurt you.”

He pointed behind Sarah at a slave collar on the shelf. “I’ll take one of those too, then.” His smile wide.

“Total is 4550,” Sarah said calmly, handing it over.

Emma kept screaming her pleas in vain as the man put the collar around her neck and activated it.

“You know how these work, don’t you, girl? You run away and the collar detonates, making your pretty head explode.”

Emma froze, breathing hard, fists clenched at her sides and a murderous look in her young eyes.

The man laughed. “Oh, she’s a feisty one! I like it. What’s your name, dearie?”

She didn’t answer, jaw clenched so tight he was sure she’d break her teeth.

“Emma,” Sarah said, placing a tin box with the chips and controller on the counter, “Her name is Emma.”

The man smirked down at her. “Emma…”
He patted her head, making her flinch. “You can call me Mr. Gold, Emma.”

Then he emptied his bag onto the counter, flooding it with caps. He tucked the tin box away and added looking at Sarah, “There are also a few extra caps, for your… discretion.”

Sarah’s eyes gleamed at the sight of the caps mountain. She nodded, “Of course.”

She didn’t spare Emma another glance as the girl walked behind Gold out of the shop, her frame rigid like a taut wire.

Caps are caps.

Outside, Marco was still holding August, who had managed to get back on his feet.
The boy tried to run to Emma again, but Marco held him back.
Ghouls, more than anyone, couldn’t afford to fight other people’s battles. More so if said battles were against rich men that could hire anyone to do their dirty work for them.

“Where are you taking her!? Let her go!” August cried out.

Silence fell over the square as everyone noticed the collar around Emma’s neck.

Emma kept her eyes on the ground, fighting tears as she walked stiffly.

Gold looked at the boy, amused. “What a loyal friend you’ve made yourself, Emma. I suppose abominations do understand each other.” He chuckled.

Emma’s eyes snapped up, shimmering with fury -which quickly turned to fear as she saw the confused faces of Filly’s people.

August frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Emma’s cheeks flushed red, her eyes dropping back to the ground. She had managed to keep her secret all this time. Now she knew that even if the man released her on the spot, she could not stay. Suspicion had been planted, and people were too curious to let something like this go.

She saw how people treated August, and was aware that if they’d found out what she was, they would treat her the same, if not worse. Ghouls were common after all, but girls like her, she never heard of.

Mr. Gold simply laughed and kept walking toward the metal staircase that led to the long tube connecting the city to the open wasteland.

The two walked in silence for hours across the dry land. Emma pushed back her tears, refusing to break down, while Gold limped ahead of her, leaning heavily on his cane.

When darkness fell, they stopped outside the ruins of an old concrete house and lit a fire.

“That’ll draw creatures,” Emma muttered through clenched teeth, scratching at her neck beneath the slave collar.

“Don’t worry about that, dearie,” he said calmly as he rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a Nuka‑Cola and held it out to her. “You must be thirsty after such a long walk.”

Emma eyed the bottle but refused to take it, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Gold grinned and set the drink down in front of her. Then he pulled out a pristine box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes and placed it beside the bottle.

Emma had rarely tasted Nuka‑Cola, too expensive, and no one wasted treats like that on orphans. She had eaten Fancy Lads a few times with August, though. They were so full of sugar they made them bounce around for hours afterward. But she had never seen a box so clean.

Gold noticed her staring. “These aren’t as irradiated as the ones you’ve probably had, but the taste should be the same.”

Emma glared at him. “What are you gonna do with me?”

He quietly took out a can of Pork ’n Beans, opened it, and set it over the fire to warm. “Nothing, dearie. You’re coming with me, and I’ll teach you some useful skills.”

Emma narrowed her eyes.

“Or rather, skills that will be useful to me.” He smiled coldly. “How old are you, Emma?”

“Thirteen.” She tightened her jaw. “Are you one of those sick perverts who fucks kids?”

Gold recoiled theatrically. “No! Of course not. My interest in you is purely academic.”

He ate a spoonful of beans, thoughtful. “Thirteen… good. Still young enough to be molded.”

“If you think I’m going to let you mold me into anything, you’re crazy.” she hissed.

He sighed. “Do you know anything about where you came from, Emma?”

“I’m an orphan.”

“Yes, of course, but you know you’re not just any orphan. You wouldn’t hide that tattoo otherwise.” His smile sharpened as she instinctively touched the skin behind her ear. “And I assume you’ve had questions about your anatomy.”

“I’m intersex… I’ve read about it,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

“What a smart girl. You managed to learn to read as an orphan in the Wasteland!” He chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve already pieced this together, but you were born in a vault, Emma. Vault 27, to be exact.”

Emma had reached that conclusion months ago, after reading yet another science book. Her being an orphan, the mark behind her ear, her different traits, her peculiar anatomy… it all screamed experiment. And from what August had told her, Vault-Tec was the one carrying out experiments around America. Or at least that’s what the people on the surface were saying anyway.

“I had only heard rumors about their experiments to create the perfect hermaphrodite being…” Gold continued. “Vault Tec wanted to maximize reproduction by creating people who could both get pregnant and impregnate others. Flawless humans with top notch characteristics who would repopulate America.” He tossed the now empty can of food aside. “You were meant to have both reproductive organs. That’s why they threw you away.”

Emma’s breath caught. She stared at him, trying to absorb the weight of all this new information. She was a literal lab rat.

“It was quite thrilling to find you, actually,” he went on, ignoring her shock. “That woman you worked for had no idea what gold mine she was sitting on. You’re almost more valuable than those chips I bought.” He clapped his hands once, delighted.

Emma swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat. “How can I be valuable if I’m just an experiment gone wrong?”

“I’m not exclusively interested in your genitals, dearie, but in all your combined skills. You’re going to become a great weapon if trained well. You were engineered to be one from the start.” His eyes glinted with excitement.

“I’m going to give you everything you need, Emma. Food, education, a safe place to live. You’ll be happy. All I ask in return is your loyalty.”

The girl stared at the ground. “I already had everything I needed before you took me. I won’t give you shit.”

“What if I told you we have a common enemy?” His gaze piercing as he smiled. “I need your help to take control of a vault.”

Emma’s eyes snapped up, studying him carefully.

After a long silence, she slowly reached for the Nuka‑Cola, twisted the cap off, and took a long sip. Never taking her eyes off him.

Having caught her attention, Gold continued, steepling his fingers.
“You see, I’m currently having a bit of a problem with an Overseer. Do you know what that is?”

“It’s like the mayor of a vault,” Emma said with a shrug.

“Yes, something like that.” He chuckled. “This particular Overseer holds the key to an information I need desperately, but they’re refusing to collaborate.”

Emma watched him closely. She took another sip before setting the bottle down.

“Those chips you bought today. They’re for mind control.”

Gold’s eyes sparkled with surprise and delight. “Let me guess, you’ve read about them too?”

The girl grabbed the box of Fancy Lads nonchalantly and took one cake out.
“I’ve heard Sarah talking about them.” She eyed him over the snack before taking a bite. “Are they meant for this Overseer?”

“They should be. But they’re not working properly yet. Unfortunately, RobCo never finished them before selling them to Vault‑Tec, so my people will try to perfect them.” He smiled. “It’ll take time, but it’s our best chance. In the meantime, you’ll train and get stronger.”

Emma scoffed, chewing on her food, “Our...”

Gold leaned in, holding her gaze. “Our. Because this overseer’s name is Mills. And you’ll be interested to know that the scientist who originally designed the experiment you came from, was Dr. Cora Mills.”

The girl stilled, forcing herself to swallow her bite.
“One of her descendants?” she whispered.

“Yes, Emma. And very likely still continuing Cora’s work.”

He watched her face darken as a storm of thoughts churned behind her eyes.

“So,” he said extending his hand, “what do you say? Do we have a deal?”
His chilling smile sending shivers down Emma’s spine.

Emma clenched her hands together, pondering the offer. If he was telling the truth, the Mills family was responsible for everything wrong in her life. They were the reason why she never had a family, nobody that ever loved her. The reason why she had always felt completely and utterly alone.

She took a deep breath. She had nowhere else to go, and she literally had an explosive collar around her neck. This would just be another job, one that might finally give her something in return: revenge on the people who had fun playing God with her.

She met Gold’s eyes steadily, reaching for his hand and shaking it firmly. “Deal.”

Gold let out a delighted laugh. “Excellent, dearie!” He pushed up the sleeve of his oversized coat, revealing a bulky wrist computer. He tinkered with the tiny wheels on the machine. “Just another day of travel. Tomorrow I’m taking you home.”