3 weeks later... John put his sniper rifle back together after disassembling it for clesning, sighing slightly as he ran his fingers over the faint Enclave symbol on the stock, "What did you do to mr..." he asked it for seemingly the millionth time. He couldn't remember anything before his 13th birthday, all he knew is that his memory was purposely wiped at that point to remove evidence of the things the Enclave had done to him, as a way of trying to make sure he stayed loyal, he guessed. But, too late for that. The Enclave was all but broken, even if it did take control of the Capitol Wasteland, it wouldn't be in any shape for expansion for decades likely. John finished putting the rifle back together and slung it over his shoulder to its normal resting place. "Time to wake Rhys." John said quietly to himself as he stepped out of the room, as mad as he was at Allen for launching the unauthorized attack just to save Rhys, he found himself forgiving Allen for doing everything he can to save his friend, and also the attack seemed to shatter his feeling of his troops invincibility thanks to the casualties taken, and Allen had since thrown himself fully into training the militia, taking advantage of the year's time John had given him. The training John Saw Allen overseeing was brutal, he could easily say drills under Allen were simply bloodless battles. He constantly drove his soldiers to be as close to perfect as possible, with a heavy focus on urban warfare, all of which John approved of, and he found himself looking forward to seeing what Allen would be able to do with his brigade in a year. Speaking of Allen, he better go get Allen for Rhys' awakening
Rhys was transported to what passed as a hospital in the Republic. He was placed under critical for a few days but was later deemed stable. He had been asleep for three weeks, and whatever ever dreams he had during that time were unpleasant. For some reason, the last fifteen minutes of whatever life he formerly had kept replaying, from the moment he managed to assassinate the leader of the slaver gang to the moment he ‘died’. It was a nightmare; all concept of reality had vanished from him in his subconscious. He had literally watched his entire life flash before his eyes, and it terrified him. Back in the real world, a doctor and a few nurses went inside of the room and began to remove his induced coma. Once the drugs wore off, he would be awake within the next couple of minutes. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his room was opened for Allen and any other visitors.
John and Allen stepped into Rhys' room in the cleaned out hospital they had come to turn Into the main test mentioned area for sick and injured. Rhys' induced coma had taken up a lot of supplies when it came to inducing comas, but luckily it was fairly rare they would have to. "You know Allen, I hope it's worth all the supplies its been chewing up to save Rhys." John said quietly to Allen, "If it was anyone else, I would have ordered them to leave him be so those supplies could be used elsewhere." Allen sighed, "I know...and four people are dead from rescuing him...but I promise it'll pay off, even if he can't fight again, he could be a politician or a judge in the system I'm planning to implement." "Whatever you say Allen..." then the two fell silent as they weighted for Rhys to wake and get his bearings
Just before Rhys was going to walk up, the doctor standing in the room took a clipboard from the desk next to his bed, taking a deep sigh as he looked at John and Allen as he read the results. “Our patient had experienced multiple life-ending injuries and is very lucky to be alive. If you are wondering about his capability to serve in the armed forces, it would be up to his own personal wishes, but it is going to be a very long time before he can serve, if ever. The injuries he had sustained in his legs might unfortunately never allow him to walk again and is to be confined to a wheelchair. However, he had shown some remarkable recovery signs, and from what we believe, there is a chance that he can walk again after a period of time, but this might not be for ten years at least.” The doctor gave Allen the clipboard. “This is the full extent of what he had suffered. It was nasty.” Roughly a minute after the doctor spoke, Rhys began to open his eyes.
Allen looked over the clipboard and silently passed it to John before turning his attention to the waking Rhys, waiting for him to fully awake
Rhys woke up slowly, realizing that he was inside of a hospital bed. His vision was blurred, but he could make out two figures. Upon forcing his eyes to open more, he realized that his legs were completely numb. He looked around, and soon, his vision returned to him to see John and Allen.
Allen gave a sad smile to Rhys, "Hey Ryhs, welcome back to the land of the living. You should have died many times over." He said quietly to Rhys, "But you're alive, and that's what matters, isn't it?" John stayed silent, watching the two
Rhys found himself unable to speak, only looking down towards his legs and why they felt as numb as they did. Then it hit him. He suddenly remembered what had happened as a tear rolled down his face. He raised his hands slowly to his chest, feeling scars across his torso as he felt empty in some areas of his body. More tears drowned his face, yet he could not figure out why he was crying as much as he was.
Allen and John silently watched as Ryhs began to cry, "Sorry you have to go through this..." Allen said quietly before returning to silence.
Rhys tried to speak desperately, only to know that nothing was coming out. For some strange reason, he could not stop crying. There was no longer any feeling in his legs and the remainder of his body was not much better. He reached out with his arm and took a notepad and pencil to write down what he tried to say. He eventually turned the notepad back around and shown it to Allen. "What's happened?"
Allen simply took the clipboard from John and got up, handing it to Rhys, "That's everything that happened to you. And not much has happened since the rescue, we've been retraining the troops.to prepare for attacking Fort Worth next year." He said simply before sitting down again
Rhys took the notepad back before making a quick note to the doctor and showing him. "Is it the drugs that are not letting me talk at the moment?" The doctor responded with a nod as Rhys then crossed out his previous sentence and wrote what came to mind next. "How much longer will I be in here?" The doctor took a deep sigh. "At least three more weeks in your bed, and two months in rehabilitation." Rhys suddenly felt more depressed than he already was as he took the notepad and made another note for Allen. It simply said, "Thank you" with a smile face (Time-skip)
(Alright) Within the next year, Rhys had managed to recover from his injuries and against all odds, was walking. He had to be confined for several months in a wheelchair and was now using a walking stick. He was expected to be perfectly healthy within the next month or so, but until then, he needed a stick to help him walk. Some scars still remained, especially on his chest and one that came downwards through his eye and forehead, but he was almost completely healthy. After somehow surviving the raid, and killing nearly 90 raiders/slavers by himself until he was taken down, Rhys had given up the idea of fighting for the republic and instead went down a different career path involving politics. His story and achievement was quite awe-inspiring, and the fact he had survived had given him quite a reputation. Now wearing a brown suit and tie that matched his walking stick and a small cowboy hat and that he always now carried a gun, specifically a .357 magnum, he felt comfortable in his new less...hazardous lifestyle.
Little did anyone know currently as Allen traveled from outpost to Outpost to observe and make sure his troops were ready for the comming offensive into Fort Worth, ideas were swirling in Allen's head. He had spent the past 6 years of his life developing a country in his mind, and he was determined to bring it into existence here now that the chance offered itself. "Glorii garúna riisa iinola..."(Glory will rise here) he muttered to himself quietly as he and his bodyguard squad marched in between outposts, "E Ii garúni asal es Imperatii Ciivanta."(And I will be it's Imperatii Ciivanta. (Doesn't really translate direct but essentially means commander in Chief and first citizen)
In the Republic, the now 20 year old Rhys had gotten himself involved with the majority of it's political action. While he appeared older than what he truly was, he stood closely nearby Allen whenever he needed it.
John had decided to lead the second brigade in the attack on Fort Worth, his job would be to fight from the west, although there was more radiation hot spots than in the eastern half of the city due to the strategic command center, there was fewer of the dangerous sort in the area beyond feral ghouls due to the radiation, even though much of it had no greater background radiation than in other areas outside the hotspots. Even so, he had company leaders carry Geiger counters. The plan was to attack from the sides with troops in the north and south to prevent escapes through those routes. After John was certain everything was ready, he sent out messengers to begin the advance into Fort Worth.
After a long day of work, Rhys went to the top of the tower in the Republic, sitting on a wooden chair with a table and a stereo. He just sat there, facing towards the direction of Fort Worth, towards the direction where he lost his life. As he sat there, he had played an old record of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. He was going to be watching the symphony of war play before his very eyes. While some would have been cautious for his mental state, Rhys understood the cosmic joke of it all. Coming back from the dead, it was a joke that only he would understand
