Vault Boy stands confidently, chest out and grinning like he just won a bet with physics. He’s completely unfazed, save for a tiny red scratch on his jumpsuit—barely worth mentioning. His posture is relaxed, almost smug, with one hand extended as if to say, “Nice try.” Charging in from the left is a raider mid-lunge, eyes wide with rage and disbelief. He’s decked out in classic wasteland gear: a spiked helmet, tattered vest, and a look that screams “I live for chaos.” But his weapon—intended to deliver a fatal blow—has crumpled into a ridiculous accordion shape against Vault Boy’s chest. The blade’s bellows are fully compressed, like it just played its final wheeze. The whole scene is frozen in that perfect comedic beat: Vault Boy untouched, the raider stunned, and the sword now more musical than menacing. No background, no text—just pure visual storytelling. See more