[ EU ] The year is 2296 and Vault 9 and 3/4 finally opens it 's blast door . Wizards have returned to the British Wastelands .

The British Vault, otherwise known as Vault 9 and 3/4, was a particularly strange Vault. It was an attempt by Vault-Tec back in the pre-war times to see if making a Vault in the British Isles was at all practical or useful. 
 
 Of course, building it was an absolute nightmare. Protests by the local denizens of Northern England halted construction. Why, you may ask? 
 
 Because Vault-Tec has exclusive contracts with the United States, so it makes no fucking sense at all to build a Vault for Britain, goddamned Britain, of all places. 
 
 But alas, they did so anyway. Nobody knows the reason except for a few street-worming dippers from Manchester who swore they saw an executive banging around with some chip-toothed lass from the London area. Probably a sort of blackmail to insure some British citizens remained safe during the war. 
 
 An odd phenomena occurred however, as the people who had entered Vault-Tec's list for Vault occupation all seemed to have some sort of weird common background given that place-of-birth was usually left blank. 
 
 There was n't a normal address, for certain. Numbers on streets seemed out of place when compared to a picture-to-picture view of houses. 12 Grimmauld Place did n't exist, for one. 
 
 Vault-Tec, however, went ahead and decided to let them in. Supposedly, some wiseass back in the states thought it would be a funny joke to name the Vault 9 and 3/4 after some garbage fantasy book he picked up out of the dollar bin. 
 
 Odd. I'd have gone with Grognak the Barbarian or the Silver Shroud. You know, real American culture. 
 
 Why would they build a Vault in Britain again? 
 
 Whatever. 
 
 Anywho, Vault-Tec's real goddamned employers, the American government and only the American government, eventually caught wind of the little operation. As such, Vault-Tec was forced to pay recompense by allowing the US to decide the experiment. 
 
 The day that the US fired its nuclear arsenal upon Britain, where they had a vault built to prevent against its own bombings for no good reason whatsoever. 
 
 Ahem. 
 
 The day the US fired its nuclear arsenal, a strange thing happened. As if by magic, every last person in the Vault seemed to have magically appeared right in front of it, a little ways in front of a stinky running shoe. 
 
 They were escorted in by gas-masked security officers hoping to avoid the noxious air and given new Vault Suits. 
 
 All of them were sent into the main common room to meet and chatter in awaiting for the Overseer's address. 
 
 Oddly enough, a stupid band of kids had decided to bring up a bunch of sticks, cats, owls, and rats that day too. Reasonably enough, the Vault-Tec employees were disgusted. And as a consequence, they were more than eager to see the experiment that was about to go down. 
 
 Following US martial law, anything and everything that could be used as a weapon was seized immediately, from the little stupid sticks to the black cauldrons to the robotic hat that shouted vulgarities all day, everything. 
 
 And once that was done. 
 
 The common room's roof opened up, letting in the cloud full of radioactive air. As if it were a big thumb in the nose by America wishing to get its last crapshot at the European Commonwealth bastards that they are literally fighting a war with and have no business building a vault for. 
 
 There were no survivors after literally three minutes, besides the regular Vault-Tec workers. The test to see if a diet of haggis, black-beans, and general train usage could deflect the side-effects of radiation poisoning was an absolute success. Turns out, American burgers, Nuka-Cola, and cram really does build up a more effective immunity. 
 
 Those workers, however, with the exception of a few, realized that they were never going to get laid after this. This systemic culture of virgin men continued throughout the ages. 
 
 The issue of repopulating was resolved by a cloning device that seemed based off of Vault 8 and 108's design. Two-hundred years passed as the virgins became older, stronger, and better. 
 
 It's often said that if a person gets to the age of thirty without so much as getting their hymen torn or balls emptied, they'd become a wizard. 
 
 This little cultural bit of superfluous information led to the creation of a new gang when the Vault finally opened themselves up to the new world ahead. 
 
 That's right, a gang developed, known as The Wizards. 
 
 They eventually all died and got wiped out by radioactive ghouls and mutated Welsh sheep-bulldogs that wandered the land soon after. 
 
 It was at that moment, that somewhere way out in the Commonwealth, that a sole survivor by the name of Nora, bitch-smacked a robotic detective for daring to ask if she'd ever wondered what happened to Britain when the bombs fell. 
 
 Fuck you Nick. Fuck you and your synthetic face that sets off mines whenever I'm trying to play stealth. Fuck you. Fuck you way up your shiny metal ass. 

