I was raised a murderous raider, but I managed to steer my life straight. For the last three years, I've lived with the peaceful folks of Megaton. It's one-half small town, one-half junkyard. Unlike a lot of places in the wasteland, we have electricity. So there's plenty of neon signs that the shop owners keep burning day and night. The marketplace stays active in a leisurely sort of way. Everyone knows each other, but sometimes traders visit, and there's the rabble they draw. On those days, you've got to keep your wits about you.

I have an apartment up the gangway when you first walk in to Megaton. Its walls are scrap pieces of metal salvaged from planes, ships and trains. Pretty much all the structures in the town are like that. My living room is full of shabby, mid-century modern furniture that I found here and there. And, of course, weapons. Lots of crude, handmade pieces, sure, but also some pretty lethal laser guns I've scarfed from the bodies of raiders and mutants who either didn't have a steady hand or their eyesight sucked. Whichever, I shot and killed them before they could get a bead on me.

We're a small town and you can't be choosy about a partner. The pool just ain't that big. But every woman I ever met in Megaton uses jet, and I simply can't abide a druggie. That left me with only Alice, Doc Whetstone's daughter, who will turn eighteen this summer. There aren't a lot of strict laws here, but no dating until eighteen is one of them. Doc wrote all the laws, most likely he had his daughter in mind when he came up with that one. So I've been waiting patiently to ask Alice out. How old am I? I don't actually know. People guess I must be about twenty-one. If so, I'm an old twenty-one. I've killed a lot of raiders who tried to make trouble in Megaton. They were once my own people, and they taught me how to survive. But now they're the enemy.

There's a high-strung young man named Phillip Worthington who thinks he has a right to Alice. On account of their having grown up together and being the same age. But I've kept Megaton safe for three years now, and I've carefully placed signs around the town limits where radiation is high. So I feel like I got a little happiness owed to me, and all the townsfolk feel the same way. It's going to be a big problem soon. I just hope we can settle it peacefully.

Well, if you dwell on trouble, it's gonna happen. Today Phillip Worthington challenged me to unarmed combat, down where the two-headed Brahmin cows have their mud baths. I didn't really feel like getting filthy, but I agreed to the match. Everyone in town came to see it. Now that young buck must've sniffed some jet before he challenged me, because when he took off his shirt, he revealed a grenade. And he didn't hesitate, he pulled the pin and threw it at my feet. I must be the luckiest guy in the world, it was a dud. Most of those old grenades still work - how I didn't lose my legs I'll never know. The townsfolk were ready to string Phillip up.

I cleared everyone away to a safe spot. Then, of all dumb stunts, Phillip Worthington picked up the grenade and started cursing at it. The confounded thing finally blew up, and the young man's headless, bloody body flopped down into the mud. Jet makes you stupid, that's a fact. A few of the crowd had some messy but minor injuries, and that kept Doc Whetstone busy the rest of the day.

I decided to move way over in Rivet City. I know I got every reason in the world to stay put, but that itch to explore the wastes again just hit me hard. Raiders are nomadic, it's in our blood. No jet in Rivet City - they're strict about that. There are still a few young men left in Megaton, enough to protect the town if I give them some basic training. And one of them is bound to take a shine to Alice. She'll be sore at me for a while, but it just seems like the right thing to do. I'm sure a lot of people will disagree with me, but I've made up my mind. Rivet City is a long ways away, but I'm making the trek.