Dreading a confrontation with the Overseer, Gwendy prepared several points to argue the benefit of 73 allowing her to journey away, but was met with surprisingly little opposition. Many of the elders regard her as capable and well trained--though inexperienced--citing the rites and requirements for outsiders to become dwellers and her exemplary performance in their tests over the years. The waster smithy Burnhard even discounted three well made throwing daggers to compliment her tossing arm, ordinance she gratefully packs away.

DON'T DIE

Several days pass as Gwendy's final preparations are made which include wriggling into her Dad's old leather jacket, left over from his days wandering the wastes. She finds a place to tuck the bowie knife inside and places Holden's compass into her left breast zip pocket, then takes one last look at her self in her bedroom mirror...

Gwendy sees a wide-eyed young woman with a thick black braid slung over one shoulder and black rimmed glasses looking back at her. She seems like a woman trying to appear more comfortable than she feels. At least the old jacket fits her: Dad grew out of it shortly after becoming a vault resident and filling a bit at the waist. If she somehow does find her parents, she imagines they'll be delighted to see her in the old relic. She pictures herself  bragging to both of them about how she strutted out of the gate with the same armor her Dad came in with. A real generational legacy made whole.

Her happy smile fades to one more somber. She hopes she'll find them, or at least what happened to them... Maybe the broadcast will lead her there. Her main objective will be to track down the source.

She says goodbye to the pneumatic engineering team she was assigned to for the last two years and suddenly finds herself at the entrance to the vault. The massive gear wheel is turned away from the aperture and stands ready to roll once again at a moment's notice. Outside of the opening a secondary structure has been built that requires anyone approaching the vault door to be checked by stationed security personnel. She finds them already expecting her to pass through, and most wish her well. Word travels fast in a vault and especially when a resident's absence is presumed to be indefinite.

Gwen picks her way through the crowded stalls and ramshackle corridors in the Fort itself with a wave towards the smithy who doesn't much notice. There are scrubby people going about their business at the wide wooden gate exiting the Fort and the hill trails sloping away. They are a familiar sight to Gwendolyn, who has spent her entire life escaping the bowls of the vault when she could and enjoying what little free time outside she could get. The citizens of the wastes were never to be fully trusted of course, but 73ers and Scouts should do what they could to help those in need and she does her best to be polite, to treat the scavengers bartering in the Fort like actual members of a society instead of the ghastly conglomeration they frequently appeared to be.

Eventually she breaks free of the gaze of the traders and shores up next to the security detail at the exit of the fort. A grizzled older woman with wiry grey hair under a patched helmet musters a thin smile as she approaches, clapping Gwen on the shoulder hard enough to rattle the knives in her jacket.

Esmeralda: "Heard you were sneaking out for good this time. Hope you've got some RAD-X on you and a sharp knife, cookie, 'cuz it sure as hell ain't a pretty party out past these walls." The woman says, her voice a gravely burr.

Esmeralda hasn't always been the nicest to her over the years, but she's fought long and hard to keep Fort 73 secure and deserves some respect.

Gwendy: "Thanks Ez, I'll remember that."

Esmeralda: "You best do, or you'll end up exactly like yer Pa 'n Ma did." She says, flicking one of the rattled pulls on her jacket. "If you see em, tell em I say hi."

Gwendy: "I'll be sure to!"

Sensing she was free to go and eager to get on with it, Gwendolyn steps outside of the border of the fort and begins down the muddy path away from the Vault's gully. She gets about ten meters away before she hears the old guard yell down at her again.

Esmeralda: "Hey kid! Don't die!"

She yells back that she doesn't plan to, then risks a wave. That was down right warm for Esmeralda, and she decides to keep it in her heart rather than let her mind be overtaken by the ominous message. Onward.

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