Lisa was the embodiment of Vault 45's mission: bubbly, optimistic, and spotlessly clean. As a graduate of the Vault-Tec Maid Initiative, she was trained to bring order to the chaos of the wasteland, one scrub brush at a time. Today, however, the wasteland was fighting back.
She stepped through the scorched remains of the Commonwealth, looking sharp in her specialized Vault-Tec maid uniform. Her blonde hair was tucked into a perfect, bouncy bob, and her black ankle-strap heels clicked rhythmically against the dry earth. A 10mm pistol sat on her hip, but her most important tool was the Pip-Boy strapped to her right arm, which was currently chirping a low-sodium hunger warning.
"Aha! 'Sugar & Spice Patisserie,'" Lisa chirped, spotting a faded pink storefront. "Surely there's a stray box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes in there."
The moment she crossed the threshold, a tripwire snapped.
Splut!
A heavy, pressurized nozzle above the door hissed to life, drenching her in a literal gallon of thick, neon-pink strawberry slime. The viscous goo coated her golden hair and ran down her face in slow, heavy globs. She stood frozen for a moment, then reached up with a gloved hand to squeegee her eyes clear. She looked up at the empty bucket rigged to the ceiling and sighed.
"Not very hygienic," she muttered, wiping a pink streak off her Pip-Boy screen.
Determined to find a snack, she pushed through the swinging double doors leading to the kitchen. THWACK. A spring-loaded arm swung from the rafters, delivering a massive, overstuffed whipped cream pie directly to her nose. The impact was so perfect that the aluminum tin stayed suctioned to her face for three full seconds before gravity took over. Lisa slowly peeled the tin away. Her face was a mask of white peaks and jagged bits of buttery crust. The cream began to ooze down her neck, mingling with the pink slime on her chest and shoulders.
She didn't turn back. She was a Vault 45 professional.
But the kitchen was a gauntlet. Every step was a new disaster. She walked over to a counter only for an another whipped cream pie to fly at her. Hitting her in the face again. She opened the oven only for a chocolate cream pie to fly out and once again hit her in the face. Everytime she's move something or opened something she was meet with a pie. By the time Lisa reached the back exit, the "bubbly blonde" was gone, replaced by a walking mountain of confectioneries. She was unrecognizable. Her hair was a structural monument of whipped cream and pink goo; her shoulders carried an avalanche of froth and broken pastry shards. Inches of whipped cream obscured her features, making her look more like a mutated marshmallow than a vault dweller.
She looked down at her ruined uniform and the empty shelves of the bakery. She hadn't found a single sealed box of food. Slowly, she reached up, scooped a finger-full of the white fluff from her cheek, and tasted it.
She paused, her eyes brightening behind the crust. "Well," she whispered, licking her finger clean, "at least the pie is still good."