Chapter Text
He noticed it only after a moment, while he was looking in the mirror.
It wasn’t obvious. Looking at his face randomly from across the room, you would think it’s just a matter of lighting. If you looked closer, you would say it’s probably a bruise. It wouldn’t be surprising, giving what last days looked like to Colonel Autumn. The failed attempt to secure the Project Purity left Enclave forces in intense, miserable retreat from Capital Wasteland, as they all, in massive chaos, tried to get to the nearest government facility that still was standing. The lucky ones had working vertibirds. The ones like Autumn ended up in one Brotherhood of Steel capture after another. He and the remains of his squad managed to fight those off, not without a cost. Not without a damage. Not without a casualty.
He put hand on his cheek, beliving this is not happening. He was certain it must be a bruise. Just a bruise. He decided to touch it with his subtly shaking hand, stopping his breath for this moment. It didn’t hurt at all. Or he couldn’t tell if it hurts, being in absolute shock it’s even there.
He could definitely get a bruise on his face. The showdown in Project Purity didn’t go without a bloodshed, even considering the Vault Dweller let them go. Why? He didn’t question it at that time. He couldn’t think much after the reveal of what his president actually planned to do, using Project Purity. He didn’t even know what to say back to the kid. What could he say at that moment. Autumn was a loyal soldier. Being an Enclavist was his source of pride. He was known to be that person to question its objectives, its philosophy, question what are the qualities Enclave believes in. But he loved his country. He loved its people. He knew Enclave is worth fighting for and that he would sacrifice everything for it.
He pressed his cheek a bit harder. He wasn’t sure what he’s seeing. The dark-reddish stain just didn’t feel right. He would notice if before.
The days they spent on the run from Project Purity was a time he would prefer not to mention. From one base to another. Finding out they are all destroyed or worse. That they now have new, power armored inhabitants. Before they managed to get even remotely closely to the Air Force, it would be only him and two other soldiers, one critically wounded. They still haven’t told it to him, but he knew. The soldier couldn’t have made it. And it was only because the whole squad chose to protect their Colonel first, securing him at all cost in every BOS encounter. He wanted to say they did it, because of his rank. Or maybe even, because they respected him. The truth was different and he realised that. They had to protect him, as he could barely walk at one point. Just a day after the retreat from Project Purity, he started feeling something is wrong. He felt out of breath constantly. Every possible part of his body started to hurt. The second day he wouldn’t eat at all, feeling he is going to vomit his organs out. By the time they reached the Enclave base, he was burning with fever. First week after they finally reached a safe zone, he basically spent sleeping. Their doctors took care of them all right away. A radiation poisoning, they thought. Stress made it worse. Probably a co-infection.
He pressed the skin lesion hard, moving his finger down. The skin peeled off his face. He opened his eyes wide, stopping his breath. He turned his eyes to see his skin remains in his hand. He felt his legs go numb. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t happening.
In the growing panic he looked in the mirror again. He definitely did look sick. Bagged, reddish eyes. Cracked, sore lips. The skin pale. Now probably even paler. Nobody would pay any attention to it though. Not in the situation when the upper part of his left cheek was missing.
He had to hold the sink to help him stand. His skin was coming off.
This does not happen with a bruise, this does not happen with any injury. This does not happen to an Enclavist. Any Enclavist has their own methods to prevent something like this from happening. It wasn’t possible.
„That radiation dose you took would kill any man. You thought you are an exception? You thought the rules do not apply to you, Colonel?”
He realised he did start to lose hair recently. Stress induced. What else could be the cause. His hair was already prone to greying prematurely. He didn’t consider any other option.
At Project Purity he applied the syringe as fast as possible. Blink of an eye. It was the highest dose. He survived because of it. It worked. This couldn’t be happening.
He was barely holding himself, at this point just letting himself drop to the floor. He felt he’s about to vomit. He was about to do it. And this definitely did not solve the fact his skin was coming off.
„YOUR SKIN IS COMING OFF YOUR FUCKING SKIN”
He didn’t consider people in the wasteland mutants. This defnitely wasn’t something Enclave leaders preached. But he was ready to oppose, to be the change. The truth to him was, even living underground, they couldn’t absolutely avoid a slight radiation dose. And the people of the Washington would be the perfect resource of restoring Enclave to its former glory. They couldn’t just mark them as mutants. These were the people he was willing to stand for.
The ghouls or supermutants on the other hand, the mutated feral creatures. A living testament to the cruelty men race is capable of. There was nothing Enclave could build with a pre-war monstrosity in their vision of new, safe world. The president would say, they need to be exterminated. Autumn prefered saying, they needed to be put out of their misery. There was no life worth livng to a creature whose skin is peeling away.
He looked at his hands in terror. If this was real, there must have been more. It was the simple logic. His hands didn’t look particularly changed. Apart from being visibly skinny. He hadn’t been eating much, partially because of the nausea, he now suspected the reason of. Colonel rolled up his right sleeve.
He didn’t even know when it must have happened. But it was there. Much bigger than the lesion on his face. Much nastier. Blueish. Everything under visible. It looked like rotting flesh. He felt even more sick. It was a good thing he was already sititng on the floor.
He quickly pulled the sleeve back, hearing the rushed move probably tore it even worse.
It wasn’t a minor radiation or any coinfection. It was all the symptoms of ghoulification.
On all fours he moved to his desk. Hands shaking and the head woozy, he got the laser gun from inside the drawer.
He looked at it, breathing rapidly, his throat tighter with every second.
He needed to do it.
There was no scenario in which a ghoul was any worth to the Enclave. To this glorious nation. The ghouls were impure, feral monsters. Enclave would never let a ghoul inside their base. Enclave officers would eliminate any ghoul in their sight. A ghoul should be put out of its misery. Even if they didn’t...he wouldn’t live like this. He couldn’t become this. It was a sacrifice to his nation he had to make. For the Enclave’s glory.
He put the laser pistol at his eye. With their energy weapons it would be instant. Max charged. He would barely feel it, once it goes through his head. At this angle it was guaranteed to cause irreversible damage. It was guaranteed he is going to die. Maybe....maybe they would never find out what happened. Maybe they could think the lesions were already post-mortem. They would remember him the proper way. He would be honoured greatly.
What if he was wrong?
He put the gun down.
How could he be sure this was happening. He let the panic take over him. He should let the doctors investigate those, right? It could be a skin disorder. It could be his genes. He already greyed far earlier than he should. He knew an officer with a heart condition. It could be all just a sickness. He had a rough time after all. He can’t do this, not letting the voice of reason speak first.
If they found out what is happenig though. What would happen?
Autumn closed his eyes, trying to calm his rushed breath.
What would happen if they found out he is turning into one of those things?
If they found out he is turning into one of those things...
He loved his country. He loved his nation. He would take any sacrifice. Any.
Would they let him do this on his terms? What would the president do?
„He wanted to put FEV in the water.”
He opened his eyes again, breathing deeply.
They could get rid of him, but that wasn’t something he would oppose to.
They wouldn’t pretend he never existed, would they.
They would honour him properly. Would they?
He looked at the gun again.