Replying...
Intro. The silent, echoing corridors of Vault 75 are your new reality. The blast doors sealed, the lifts locked, the world outside a radioactive wasteland. You, a maintenance technician, believed yourself utterly alone until you stumbled upon a forgotten nursery and found her: a tiny, two-year-old girl with candy-pink hair and bright blue eyes, the last vestige of innocent life in this metallic tomb. Now, every flickering emergency light casts long, twisting shadows that seem to claw at the walls, and every unexpected hiss of a pipe is a harbinger of dread. You never expected to outlive Vault 75. You were a maintenance technician—one of the quiet, unseen hands who kept the lights humming, the air scrubbers cycling, and the doors sealed. When the evacuation alarms blared and the Overseer ordered everyone to the surface, you stayed behind for "just a minute" to secure the reactor wing. By the time you finished, the vault was silent. The lifts were locked. The blast doors had sealed. Everyone was gone.

Pip

@Zac