The BoS Prison

[Trakocian]

A little something I wrote in a few days. This not my first fanfic that I wrote, but it is the first that I've posted
Enjoy.

The BoS Prison

Some think that the Brotherhood of Steel is some goody two-shoe, saviors of humanity, godsend. Believe me, the picture from the inside of a Brotherhood labor camp is a lot different.
My hometown was an old city called Green River. It was a modest town; the only blemish was a raider party that called it home, too. Then the Brotherhood came. They cut down the raiders and anyone stupid enough to try to stop them. That day I learned that there were things worse than death. Those who hid were rooted out; sent to a labor camp. This is where I have called home for many seasons.
This labor camp was a mining and processing plant. We mostly did manual labor, moving materials to and from machines. These machines filled entire rooms and ran endlessly. None of us felt human. The Sun was hidden from our view. We lived in a massive mechanical beast: pipes, equipment, and earth all around us. The only time we got away from the grime and sound was when we slept. Then the smell of each other overwhelmed our senses.
We worked twelve-hour shifts. When our shift was over we headed for the chow lines. Getting chow involved a three hour wait, getting something that resembled puke and fighting off the workers who wanted your share. Since you only got one meal a day, fights were common. After that we were divided up into groups of thirty and sent to barracks to get some sleep.
This place was hell. It was ruled by metal demons.

My name was James. I pushed a mining cart with my friend, Peter. The two of us were the only ones left from Green River. We moved the cart along a rail inside the mining tunnels, picking up ore from the end of a conveyer belt and pushing it to the edge of a vertical shaft. At the shaft we tipped the cart’s bay into a large bucket and went back for more.
“So, did you see that new guy in the new crew today, the one I told you about?” Peter shouted over the mechanical roar. We were pushing a cartful of ore to the end of the shaft.
“What?” I shouted back.
“The new guy. The one that’s different from the others.”
“I heard of him. He’s not like the others. They say he looks strong. Got a lot of scars, too.”
“They say he’s a soldier.” Peter said in a softer voice. We had reached the end of the shaft and were waiting our turn to dump the ore.
“That’s crazy. No way possible.”
“They say he’s got the symbol on his arm, the same kind the guards have.”
“You’ve got shit for brains, man.” I said. We reached the bucket, dumped the ore, and started the trip back.
“No man, that’s true. I heard if from Frank, earlier.”
“Peter, you’re a fucking fool! Frank’s a dumber moron than you.” I shouted.
Then a guard in power armor came over to us and jabbed me with a cattle prod. “Get moving!” he shouted.
I recoiled from the shock and pushed the cart faster. For the next several hours Peter and myself pushed in silence.
We worked twelve hour shifts. At the end of the shift, a loud air horn sounded out and we started our final trek to the shaft, where the second shift took our places. As the two of us approached the shaft a miner in front of us fell down. A guard in Power Armor came over and gave the miner a swift kick.
“On your feet!” the guard shouted. A quick jab from a cattle prod yielded no results. The guard turned the miner over with his foot. The miner gave an empty, blink-less stare upwards.
“This one’s finished,” the guard called out. A wheelbarrow came up from the mine and the body was loaded in. “You,” the guard said pointing to me “take this heap up to processing.”
Casting a quick nod to Peter and taking up position behind the wheelbarrow, I followed the guard up to the head of the line and into the elevator. At the top, I exited and headed toward body processing. The trip took me past several noisy machines. Rounding the corner I spotted the new guy, just starting his shift. He was a formidable person, large and muscled. He had an eye patch over his right eye. On his right arm there was a weird mark but I couldn’t clearly see it, on account of dirt and grime. He cast a quick glance at me, then went back to his work.
That single glance told me something. I saw it on his face that his taste of freedom was fresh. It showed that he truly hated to be here, not the common resigned expression I had always seen on the others. This man could still see the outside world in his mind.
“Get moving!” a guy in combat armor shouted at me from above. I refocused and moved on to processing. When I arrived another guard opened a chain link fence and let me in. A short walk and I dumped the body on a conveyer belt, left the wheelbarrow, and went out to go find Peter.
I found Peter in the chow line. Joining him, despite the objections of the others in line, I commented to him about the new guy. After a couple of hours, we got our food. A thin, watery gruel that just barely sustained us workers. Peter and myself looked for an empty space to eat. We found a corner that was empty and we sat down.
“So, what do you think of that new guy?” Peter asked.
“He looked strange, man.” I replied.
This conversation continued on, much like the previous one in the mine. It was boring, but it took our minds off of the shit that they fed us.

This went on for several months. I picked up bits and pieces of information on him. Then one day, some big news started circulating that the BoS has pushed it’s borders all the way to the Pacific. For some reason the guards were joyful about this information. The workers were joyful too: when the guards are happy, the cattle prods are used less.
When Peter and myself were transferred to the other shift, we were sent to work in the ore processors. One thing that did happen is that we learned much more about the new guy. It turns out his name was Kyle, and he was indeed a former BoS soldier. His skin was a patchwork of scars and abrasions. There was a strange, circular metal object behind and below his right ear. The symbol on his arm, or whatever it was, he kept covered with dirt. Other than that, everything else was rumor.
One day I was minding my own business and a loud explosion and rushing sound rang out through the camp. I saw people running past me, rushing away from one of the processing machines. “What happened?” I yelled at one of the running workers.
“One of the coolant pipes broke!” he shouted and continued on.
I don’t know what I was thinking, but I ran in to see if I could help. When I got to the first downed worker, I picked him up and dragged him to safety. I went back for another but I bumped into Kyle on my way back in.
“You! Come with me!” Kyle yelled at me.
Even if I had considered to refuse, I couldn’t because he grabbed my arm and dragged me in. After passing through a layer of smoke, I saw where the rushing sound was coming from. A large pipe was gushing out a wall of water from one of the seams.
Kyle looked around for a second. “You see that valve down there?” Kyle asked me, pointing to a valve about 50 yards down the left side of the pipe. “Turn it all the way to the right. Hurry!”
I ran down to the valve. Turning it was very difficult but I was able to make several full turns before it stopped. I looked back to Kyle and he had grabbed a piece of metal and a welder. Running back to him, I saw him go straight for the break in the pipe. The water was only dripping out of the pipe. Kyle aligned the metal plate with the break and started welding.
When he got about half way done, an air horn sounded off to the right. “Go stand by the valve and wait for my signal.” Kyle shouted over the noise.
Running back to the valve, I grabbed it with both hands and waited. When he stepped away form the pipe and shouted something to me, I opened the valve. A minute later the air horn stopped.
I ran back to join Kyle, who was already walking away. “That was really something,” I commented. He just snorted at me and walked on. Just as Kyle rounded a corner I saw the mark on his arm; apparently the water had washed the usual dirt and grime off. It was indeed the same mark the guards had on their armor, but this one was a brand and it was upside down.

One night Kyle and myself were put up in the same barrack. I went over to him. “That brand must of hurt,” I commented.
“I’ve been hurt worse,” he replied. “You know any way out of here?”
“Yeah, die, “ I replied
“I’ve already thought of that. But all of the bodies that go through processing are killed again, just to make sure.”
“Why are you in here?”
“I was a security risk.”
“What did you do?”
“You see this mark on my arm?” he said, pointing toward his brand. “It’s the mark they give to traitors.”
“Are you a traitor?”
“I disobeyed orders and saved thousands of innocent lives. What do you think?”
“Sounds like you were given a reason to be here. That puts you in a very small group.”
“Is there any way go get out of here?”
“There ain’t no way out of here, man. Just deal with that.” I said and went to sleep.

In the morning we all filed out and lined up in front of our barracks. The guards counted us in the morning to see if anyone was missing. “Clear on four!” I heard a guard call out. I was in four and the other workers and myself looked around to see who was missing. It didn’t take long to see that Kyle was missing. It happened that I was close to the door and I peeked back into the barrack. I was barely able to see Kyle but he was a good foot off the ground and hanging from the wall. He must of done it sometime in the night. I just closed my eyes and shook my head. Some people just couldn’t take it here.
A guard in combat armor brushed past me and went into the barrack to find the missing worker. I peeked back into the barrack to see what was going on. What I saw shocked me. The guard was in the air next to Kyle and his legs were flailing wildly. Very soon, the guards legs stopped moving and he collapsed onto the floor. Kyle leapt down from the wall and unlatched some kind of a hook from the back of his waist. He wasted no time, quickly putting on the armor and stringing up the guard.
“Is four clear?!” another guard shouted as he approached the barrack. I was just about to take some action but Kyle stepped into the doorway, cutting off the other guard’s access to the barrack.
“Got another suicide in here. Strung himself up so tight the wire cut into his neck.” Kyle calmly replied.
The guard merely turned and walked away. “Get a disposal crew to four!” he shouted as he went back to his post.
Kyle, unrecognized by the guards, walked out.

About a half-hour later, the whole place went to hell. Suddenly, alarms everywhere went off. Every guard went crazy. They never found Kyle.

[avenger69ie]

Excellente Herr Ambassadore!

in my own opinion, i reckon you should have had more in about what kyle did, and possibly some more detail on what the main charactor did.

otherwise Kewl! :)

good stuff

[Trakocian]

Yeah, I know that the chars need more development.
This idea started out as part of a story that linked two other stories that I'm working on. I turned it into a standalone so I could see what you people think.
BTW, I'm up to page 51 on my big project (the first story). I'm guessing that it is about halfway done. I haven't started on the second story.

[avenger69ie]

Good stuff man, am looking forward to it :)
if its of the same calibre as this one, i'm sure its gonna be good