[Gatler]

Tom observed the array of tools with a mixture of surprise and mild disappointment. Surprise at the variety of tools he was offered; disappointment that they hadn't included an assault rifle for any of them. Who knows what--or who--they might run into out there.

With some resignation, he grabbed one of the carbines and a knife, and headed outside. He took one last look back at the Overseer before crossing the threshold of the Vault door. Part of him hoped he'd never see the grinning idiot again.

The wasteland was breathtaking in spite of its dullness of colour. The scale of it alone brought tears to his eyes. No ceiling! No walls! There was some primal part of his brain that was panicking now. That'd take some getting used to.

A cold wind blew past him as Andrews left, and he shivered. Thankful for his grandfather's jacket , he zipped it up and stuck his hands in his pockets before looking wistfully up at the sky and uttering his first words since he'd stubbed his toe after breakfast that morning; "Bloody weather."