SHIT POST ALERT! There is a mod for Fallout 4 that replaces mini nukes with your long-lost infant Shaun. Here is my version of the lore.

Link to the mod: https://www.nexusmods.com/fallout4/mods/475/?

It was still early in the morning, but I had to keep moving. The fat man I stole was from Goodneighbor, and knowing those damn anarchists, I could only imagine what they’d do if they found me. After all, I’d seen their mayor knife Finn to death within the first minute of me stepping into their town, and all he did was ask for some caps.

I arrived at the doorstep of the Lonely Chapel. I came here once before by means of the federal ration stockpile and marked it on my pip boy. I had found a box with a mini nuke inside it, and decided to return to it after eventually finding a fat man. With a turn of the brass knob, I walked in through the ugly red door and was greeted with an interior just as unsightly as I remembered: shattered glass and rotting bones littered the floor, the mahogany benches were either splintered or overturned, and mossy stone bricks were falling out of the walls. Though sure enough, the box I was looking for remained, looking as though it hadn’t been touched since my first visit.

I made my way through the debris to the box when, coming from within it, I suddenly heard a noise… Or was it a voice? Crying? It seemed almost familiar, and it grew louder with each step I took. I grew pale, and carefully opened the lid with bated breath. Then I turned as white as paper. Inside the box, silhouetted by the sunlight behind, was my baby boy. I knew it from his shape. My son. The one I’ve been searching so long for. The one Nora died for. The one those raiders stole from the vault in front of my eyes. They must have abandoned him here, those sick bastards. Shaun. Finally, I’ve found you.

But something wasn’t right. As the sunlight shone through the cracks and my eyes attuned to the light, I noticed words on the box I had glossed over initially: “WARNING. Atom Bomb Baby.”

Oh my God. A bomb? Why is my baby a bomb!?

In front of me was this child I thought was family mere moments ago. My legs went numb and started shaking, and I grew nauseous. I put the small silver cross dangling from my neck to my trembling lips and reached for the holy water on the lectern. Slowly, I came to myself. Was this Shaun? More importantly, if the kid wasn’t mine, why was it here?

These thoughts continued to reel through my skull as I stumbled out of the building, bomb-Shaun in tow. Questions assaulted me like so many predators. Was this baby really a bomb? What happened to the actual bomb I found in this box last time? Was I hallucinating? Had I been mistaking him for a mini nuke from the start?

With quivering arms, I scooped up the little baby and loaded it into the chamber of my nuke launcher. Sure enough, the child quieted. But what would I do now? Do I pull the trigger? To fire the weapon would certainly be immoral, but to not shoot would be impossible. I needed this, after all. If I had no ammunition for this launcher, what was the point? Why had I risked my own neck to steal the damn thing? I was at an insurmountable impasse, and so crumpled to my knees, pressing hands to head and weeping. It felt as though a corkscrew of fever and delirium was being drilled into my brain. I begged God to show me a path of decisiveness, throwing my head up to the sky; the sun of dawn making the clean, wet streaks on my face glimmer against the dirt.

It was then that I heard the child’s little gurgles from the gun’s chamber. They awakened me. His soft and sweet coos were like sticky, creamy dulce de leche for my unclean ears. I knew what had to be done. My hands reached for the fat man, trembling more and more violently the closer they got until I was finally able to clasp the cold grip.

“Goodbye, Shaun,” I said.

I stepped away from the ruins behind me, aimed far above the horizon, and fired. The baby vaulted across the sky, majestic as so many birds of prey. There was a brief moment of silence. Then, the sky turned orange. The shaking of the ground and the near-still image of the mushroom cloud caused a sudden shock wave, flattening the grass around me and sending bits of debris spraying everywhere. I shielded my face as the force of the blast tugged back my hair.

However, as my eyes cautiously peeked open once more, something strange happened. Countless little babies, countless little Shauns appeared seemingly out of nowhere. One crawled through the door of a neighbouring house; one dropped down from the branches of an oak tree across from me; one pushed open the lid to a manhole and climbed its way out of it; one even revealed itself right beside me, having previously been camouflaged in the brush.

I noticed a shadow from above, and having looked up, realized it was another little baby parachuting down from the Brotherhood of Steel’s mighty zeppelin. He gave me an adorable little salute as he landed, and I gave him an astonished nod back. Dozens of babies were crawling, as if magnetically attracted, to me, as if I were their father. No, I was their father. Suddenly, I was overtaken by an entrancing sensation of joy, of pure animalistic euphoria. I lined up my little children, one after the other, uncontrollable tears flowing down my face. My sons. My beautiful sons. I loaded the foremost into the fat man. I love you, Shaun. The little baby closed his eyes gently and I kissed him goodbye.

And just like this, one by one, with a heart full of both immense pride and shame, I laid the rest into the chamber and fired, a single tear dripping down my face for each Shaun I was to lose forever. And so they flew, and so they were freed, with the sound of their explosions ringing across the Commonwealth, and the sound of their sweet cries still ringing in my ears.

THE END