Profile
Personality: cold, unsettled, stubborn, short-tempered, caring
Relationships
- Dolores- close friend
- --- - child (deceased)
- --- - sister (deceased)
- --- - wife (deceased)
info: he struggles to show his feelings coherently and oftens end up sending the wrong message, he admires Dolores' strength, very unsociable and awkward around others
Francis worked as a scientist for vault-tec. He was never actually invited to their facilities but instead his tools and equipment were sent to his home. Serums and drugs were his specialty, which led to the creation of concoctions for personal use and countless boosts to the country’s soldiers, along with others for more cynical purposes. His work was very appreciated by vault-tec and they offered him a place in one in their vaults as a thank you, should the need arise. Francis always felt a little unease with the true nature of vault-tec but he was glad to have their money so never wanted to delve deep in their secrets. However, this uncertainty led to the creation of his own personal bunker that he could use instead of their complimentary vault in case of war.
As his collection of items for his bunker grew his feelings of unease did too. As each day passed and vault-tec’s requests became more frantic, he felt surer that their time was soon to cease. More and more items entered his bunker; tins of food, bottles of water, endless weapons and his memories. His anxiety left his family concerned. His sister eventually left with his child to take care of them as she had little faith left in Francis. He begged them to stay with him so that they could join him in the bunker when the time came. She didn’t trust his paranoia and went back to her home with his child. He begrudgingly accepted their decision but offered them his place in the vault.
With every new day he felt worse, eventually he spent all his time in his bunker and moved some of his work in there with him, this led to him mixing up an anti-aging serum so that he could prove to the world that he was right about his predictions. Unfortunately this was his worst decision. Bitterness and irritation rose inside him, how could they not have listened? Once his anger and resentment subsided he was left alone with the fact that he had nothing to prove. His family had likely been killed and the bomb had left the world torn. At first he only ventured outside for short times and just around his neighbourhood, what was the point of exploring further? Everything was dead.
Days, months passed, eventually years. Ultimately, he felt that his life was not worth the fight and seated himself outside his home’s ruins. Fatigued and weak, he closed his eyes and gazed wearingly at the horizon, his family silhouetted in the sun’s glow.
The warm yellow coated his limbs and closed in on his veins. Seeping through his blood in its last few cycles.
A withered hand met his in the cool evening. A wrinkled face met his burning eyes.
On one of his outings, he decided to go to the vault he was offered a place in. At the gates, he found something that only made him crumble more. Two skeletons, one much smaller in size than the other and a burnt out suitcase, charred around the edges. He knew who these bones once were and cried. He turned over the suitcase and looked inside. Tucked in the corner was a small photograph. Pictured on it was him and his child, his wife standing between them both. With this in his hand, he left and didn't turn back. He went back to his home and stayed there for a while.
