Wasteland Refuge

You have come to the Wasteland refuge.  This is my small homage to the greatest computer game ever made.  Back when I was a kid (in the late 80's) my brother got the family's first computer.  When he was out, I would creep secretly in, and there, upon that ol' Commodor 64, I found the game that would forever set my expectations of what an RPG game should be, WASTELAND!

The Following Is a Small Fan Fic by Yours Truly

    It has been about thirteen years now, I figure.  Since calendars went out of style when the nukes came, my idea of time may very well be off.  It's hard to even go by the seasons here in the desert, we only really have two; too God damned hot, and too God damned cold.  So excuse me if my recall is less than perfect.
     It all started at the old Ranger Center, you know the really old one we had in the prison?  Anyway, there was the group of hot shots, led by 'Mister Desert Ranger' himself, Snake Vargas, and then my rag tag team of rejects.  We were all presented with the same mission; to bring order and civilization to the surviving pockets of humanity.  That sounds so cutely idealistic now, huh?  Well, right off the bat, the powers that be could see that Vargas and his crew would never tolerate working with a band of losers like us, so we were sent our seperate ways.
     My band mucked around the desert, shooting whatever didn't smile back.  There were some fun times, like when we took down several smart mouth teens at Highpool, or when we found ourselves pelted by rotten fruit, cast at us by rebel rodents.  These times didn't last forever, though. 
     We eventually realized that there was a real end to our so called mission, and that it involved destroying a secrect base hidden base, up north.  Well, several weeks and thousands of rounds later, we found ourselves in the base, searching for the way to blow the damn thing up.  We accomplished this (no small feat) and ran to get the hell out.
     Thinking that the end was finally in sight, I ran like I never had before.  My legs burned, but I knew I could make it.  Two of my team mates flew by me just as we cleared the base, but the third wasn't with them.  Knowing that I was the slowest of the lot, I knew that he should have been out by now, too.  I looked back over my shoulder, seeing the only person I ever considered my friend, laying back behind, grasping his right leg.  His fingers were stained red, and even from my distant vantage point, I could see that shrapnel from one of the small explosions now beginning to tear assunder the base had forever rendered his leg useless.  He wouldn't get out on his own, and I knew it.  I was too afraid of dying to go back and get him.  I turned away and continued to flee.  When I had reached a safe distance, and I heard the base go up in one final blast, I vomitted.  Not out of my exhaustion as my companions expected, but from the sickness of knowing that I had allowed my friend to die, without putting forth any attempt to save him.  I never told the others that I had see our fallen commrade laying behind us, within shouting distance- close enough to have been saved had I not been such a God damned coward.  I guess Snake Vargas was right to begin with.  We had no business out there, at least I didn't.  Now, I have given up rangering as it does nothing but force me to remember the day I saved the world, but killed my best friend.

Oh my God!  That was depressing!  Help cheer up this page, send your fanfics about Wasteland (or even Final Fantasy if your brave) to ksipesh@yahoo.com.  You will receive credit for your work.  I reserve the right edit anything sent.  Please keep it respectable :)
                                -K.Sipesh

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