Chapter I: Rebirth 

He was cold. Terribly, unmistakably, cold. He stood upright, yet not conscious, his ears deaf to the murmurs of feigned excitement around him. They spoke in sharp, raspy voices, poorly filtered through their metal helmets. Even if this man, Roland Darkwater, had fully functioning ears, or a brain for that matter, a three inch thick layer of glass separated him and the room full of armored men. So, without a doubt, he wouldn’t be able to hear them anyway. There were many reasons why Roland could not see, hear, or provoke thought. But, however, one stood out clearly to all who laid eyes upon him. He was frozen stiff, like a strip of meat in the back of a butcher’s store.

Well, that’s what Roland would think of, anyway. Butchers didn’t really exist anymore. There was a simple explanation for both that, and Roland’s current predicament. It was over two hundred years after nuclear fallout had plagued ninety-five percent of earth. So, naturally, Roland would be a bit surprised to wake up to reality once more, after having been sealed off from it for more than two centuries, despite having been trained well by his military superiors. 

Yes, Roland Darkwater was a man of the U.S. army, or rather, used to be. Now he was a high-priority prisoner of the Enclave, of these men. Men who wore massive suits of bulging metal armor, powered with nuclear energy to enhance their physical strength and resist most forms of low-class weaponry. These men watched as the cryogenic cell began to a thaw, a process which could take days. Fortunately, at least for the anxious Enclave, they had turned up the heating device, quickening the process down to a few hours. But this wasn’t exactly good for Roland. You see, the Enclave were a highly technological organization, but they had little knowledge of pre-war instruments, only determining if they could salvage them to make new machines of their own. So, they cared little when the cryogenic chamber began not only to thaw the ice, but to burn Roland’s skin, however slight. 

Eventually, the soldiers headed back off to their posts. Every soldier in the complex had a place to be, and if the Quartermaster had found them here, it wouldn’t have been a happy greeting. 

Finally, when the display screen on the cryogenic chamber read ‘206y 2m 21d 2h 4m’, the door swung open, and without anybody to catch him, Roland slipped out onto the tiled floor. 

* * *

“Brigadier General Kovacs, I have important news from the scout team, sir!” 
Kovacs turned from the hi-tech computer screen, and glared down on the small frame of a young Enclave messenger. 
“What is it, grunt?” 
“Hawk unit has encountered resistance in the northern extremities of Klamath, sir! They have advanced weaponry, Gauss rifles, plasma grenades, pulse pistols, the works!” 
If the messenger could see the scowl beyond the metal helmet, he would cower in fear.
“What?” came the obviously frustrated response. 
The messenger gulped heavily, and continued with the report. 
“Sir, Hawk unit is having difficulty dealing with them—“
“You mean to tell me, grunt,” began Kovacs in a violent shout, “That one of my most well-trained units is being beat down like a bunch of yellowbellied, cockeyed, [censored]-for-brains commies? Just how dumb do you think I am, grunt? What the [censored] are you trying to say?” 

The messenger dipped his head low and continued. 
“We have their report on a holodisk, sir,” he said, almost in a whisper. 
“Well what the hell are you waitin’ for, dip [censored], another nuclear war?” 
“Yessir!” 

The poor little man ran off towards the holodisk projector, and fumbled the little cartridge nervously in his hands before slipping it into the machine. A small image of Sergeant Roark, leader of Hawk unit, appeared on screen. Two armor-clad men with plasma rifles stood nervously beside him.

“Brigadier General, sir!” shouted the man, saluting the floating disk in front of him. “We have begun the assault on Northern Klamath, and have been using the canyons and our Gauss marksmen to stealthily take out the villagers. But a small group of them have hold up in a warehouse. I dunno how but they’ve got themselves armed with stuff we’ve got, y’know, Gauss Rifles, Plasma and Laser weapons, grenades, everything it seems! We can’t take ‘em out without risking several of our men! Over and out,” he finished, and with that, the blue image disappeared. 

“Grunt,” whispered the General, almost inaudible. 
“Y-yes?” was his frightened reply.
“Order Roark to continue the assault, regardless of the situation. If we have to spare men to make headway into this battle, we will goddamnit!” 
“Uh, yes sir!” 

* * *

Roland searched the room for any clues as to where he was. His memory soon came flooding back to him. War. Imminent danger. Being frozen alive. Though it was not all fully clear immediately, he had the basic understanding of why he had just woke up beside an opened cryogenic chamber. But where were the Military scientists? Where was Sergeant Morgan or Sergeant Gunny? Commander Howard or Commander Wilson? It was all so confusing… the last thing Roland truly remembered and understood, was arriving at the Military camp in Anchorage, Alaska. But why had he been frozen? 

It took only one glance at the display case on the cryogenic chamber to truly grasp his situation. Two-hundred and six years. That was how long he had been frozen. What happened to the last-ditch battle with the Reds in Alaska? The imminent nuclear war? Had it all been left behind? What about his family? Roland chuckled at that thought. Roland had no family. All he had left was his step father, a drug addict, who was about two-hundred years in the past. Of course, there was his grandfather, a kind, gentle, and caring old man. But he was dead even when Roland was alive. 

It all seemed so distant… life… his life… it was all gone. At least he had memories of his grandfather. Roland instinctively felt for the metal coin that usually hung from his neck. It wasn’t there. My belongings, he thought, where are they? Another quick search of the room assured him that his things were long gone.
This is making no sense… Dr. Zimmerman was supposed to freeze me for only a few years… he told me himself… what happened? Seeing as they’re long dead, I may never know. 
Before Roland could sit down and continue his silent pondering, the butt of a machinegun was slammed into the back of his head, and he slipped into the black realm of unconsciousness. 

* * *

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and baky!” 
Roland slowly opened his eyes, but a glaring light made him shut them for several seconds. 
“Corporal Roland L. Darkwater, U.S. Military. You were in service during the Anchorage Reclamation, correct?” asked General Kovacs. Roland remained silent, unmoving. 
“Speak up, grunt!” 
Roland opened one of his eyes, just a little bit. A heavy framed man stood before him, his body bent down to look at Roland. A cigarette burned in his mouth. 
“First division, T-51b Power Armor unit, under command of Commander Howard and Commander Wilson… a soldier operating in the Anchorage Reclamation, yes,” replied Roland, shutting his eye once he had finished. General Kovacs displayed a crooked grin, two golden teeth shining as he did. 
“Fan-[censored]-tastic,” he said, rising up from his bent position. “You see, we have a problem here, Darkwater,” he continued, walking around the small, square room. The General squinted at the bright fluorescent light shining above him. 
“Your unit succeeded in Operation Anchorage, we know that much. And we have records of you and several other’s cryogenic freezing. But Dr. Zimmerman failed to freeze himself, and thus we have no other indication as to why you, or Corporal Wallus, are here. We simply know he froze you for two-hundred and six years.”

General Kovacs bent down low in front of Roland again. The weary soldier opened his eyes again, aware of the fowl stench wafting from Kovacs’ mouth. 
“That’s a long time, soldier,” he said, taking a drag from his cig and puffing the smoke in Roland’s face. 

“It was only supposed to be a few years,” said Roland. “I can’t remember why he froze me, but it wasn’t supposed to be this long.” 
Kovacs smiled grimly. 
“Don’t play dumb with me, [censored], I know the games people play. I’ve interrogated before. You either tell me the truth, or I’ll hang you from the rafters and press a burning-hot barrel to your ass and make you scream for you long-dead mother.” 
Roland opened his eyes fully this time. He scanned the room for any sign of weakness in the white walls, or in General Kovacs’ himself.
“What happened?” was Roland’s simple question.

Kovacs narrowed his furry eyebrows and took another drag of his cigarette. 
“War,” he said finally. “Total nuclear fallout.” 
Roland shook his head grimly. He figured as much. 
“I thought Anchorage was successful.”
“It was. We don’t have much information about what happened, but I can tell you this, soldier: whatever you left behind in your world, it’s long gone. Welcome to the New Age, soldier, an age where the Enclave will rebuild society. And you’ll be alive to see it.” 
Kovacs smiled, his old face contorting into rugged, yet hysterical laughter. And then he left, leaving Roland alone in the square, unfurnished room. Alone, where he could truly begin to grasp the dark implications of his return.