"I heard it is a bad idea to tempt the wrath of Caesar."
-Edward Sallow, Caesar of Caesar's Legion
It was peaceful. Hoover Dam, despite it being the most valuable object in the Mojave, was peaceful. NCR soldiers milled around, not even caring. Years of warnings, years of false alarms, and years of slacking off had made the Hoover Dam garrison complacent and stale.
And then Kimball was assassinated. With the President of the New California Republic dead, the entire garrison was mobilized, the entire Mojave division of the New California Republic Army on guard for more attacks, more reprisals. And then it came.
A tide of red was streaming from the eastern bank of the Colorado, blasting a hole in the slight defenses that existed. Oliver was an idiot for thinking that the Legate would repeat the mistakes of his predecessor. NCR troopers expecting an easy victory by just slaughtering the legionnaires as they streamed en masse were rudely surprised when legionnaires appeared behind them, having infiltrated the turbines and towers where Oliver had neglected to place any men.
Centurion Severus Paribus directed his men to continue to fire. His own weapon, a long and dangerous thermal lance, was busy drilling into a NCR trooper's heart, when one of his men's heads exploded into a shower of blood and gore. He instantly ducked down, knowing that he was at a disadvantage. A round pinged off his left shoulder, right where the powered armor shoulder pauldron was located. He smiled, knowing that the match-grade bullets from the sniper's rifle would not be able to punch through it.
Poor Brotherhood fools should have not been outside their pitiful bunker. The pauldron was a symbol of victory over the detractors that would drag them down the path to atomic fire. He remembered Arizona and Caesar's orders. We are Legion.
With a shout, his machete slipped out of his belt with a shiver, and he pointed it towards the tower where the sniper was located. Another legionnaire lost his life to the unseen foe, but as soon he pointed, Fortification Hill spoke. A shell, an actual artillery shell, arced from the Hill, traveling past the other towers and smashing into the one he was pointing at. Crumbs of stone and steel dripped down and the disemboweled body of the sniper was visible. Cowards. Hiding behind steel and stone.
"Charge! For Caesar!" he ordered and dozens of legionnaires responded, their voices as one.
"For Caesar!"
The red sea surged forward and Severus was at the forefront. His thermal lance came to life, machinery that cut through stone slicing through tendons and sinew. One NCR ranger fired several shots from his revolver, but all of those simply bounced off the power armor shoulder. He didn't bother with the lance, instead wrapping his hands around the man's neck as he attempted to retreat before the tide.
He squeezed and let himself enjoy the squeezing. The man desperately tried to stop him, clawing at Severus and his face, but Severus just squeezed harder, not even caring about the blood dripping from where the unfiled nails of the ranger raked across his cheeks. As he felt the life force drain from the ranger, he tossed him aside, watching as his body tumble down the walls of the Dam. Water splashed and the river claimed its first meal for the day. Before the end of the day…it would be swelling with the blood of the west.
Several legionnaires dropped dead when a NCR soldier in stripped down power armor appeared, carrying a minigun. Barrels spooled and bullets rained, chewing up sandbags and flesh alike. Two more figures joined the killer, their weapons dealing death to the waves of recruits waiting for their first kill. If it were any other foe, they would have retreated, dying and leaving their wounded.
But not legionnaires.
The recruits immediately took cover and started chucking spears at the armored figures. Most of them spears simply broke when they made contact with the power armor; armor designed to tank bullets and missiles were likely to deflect iron spearheads. More recruits appeared, but this time armed with dynamite; lessons learned from the dozens of deaths against the Powder Gangers ambushing their patrols.
Stripped power armor was not the same as actual power armor. The protection remained, but not the added strength and mobility. As soon as the first sticks detonated, smoke obscuring their vision and forcing them back. A recruit armed with a machete was the first through the smoke and wrenched off the helmet of one of the men and his blade went straight the back of the skull of the NCR scum.
With a yell, the second soldier wretched his helmet off and pointed the nozzle of his weapon towards the swarming legionnaires, and with a slight glee in his eyes, pressed the trigger. Molten hot napalm rained onto the sea of red that was charging towards him, lighting the fabric of the armor the legionnaires wore. The feeling of victory was replaced by horror and disgust. Very dishonorable. He quickly dashed to where another fellow centurion had fallen; his anti-material rifle hanging limp from his hand. Saying a quick prayer, he hefted the heavy weapon to his shoulder, looked down the scope and saw the haughty trooper in power armor, liquid fire streaming from his weapon.
He coolly pressed the trigger, feeling the impact of a 12.7mm round exploding from the barrel in his shoulder. Through the scope he saw the man stagger, as the armor piercing round slam straight into his chest. This allowed two recruits arriving late to rush him and tackle him to the ground. The first legionnaire didn't even bother with removing his machete; he started pummeling the stricken NCR soldier with his fists, fiery anger and fury in vengeance for his fallen legionnaires. His fists coated with blood, the legionnaire withdrew, his machete now in his hands, and with a mighty yell, he chopped off the head of the heavy trooper.
"Form ranks! For Caesar!" came his order and the surviving legionnaires, all twenty from his original unit of 80, formed. All around them the smoke of burning corpses and the smell of decay was starting to set in. A blanket of red and brown uniforms covered the dam.
"Anthony," he said harshly, towards his last remaining decanus alive," why were there heavy troopers still alive? I thought that the glorious Vulpes Incultas had them tied up in the profligate camp of Golf!"
Anthony to his credit, did not cower.
"Centurion, they were the last ones. We didn't know that General Oliver had delayed their departure," the decanus said in his own defense. With a huff, Severus sighed.
"Send a runner to the Legate's camp. Tell him the profligates have been thrown back from the eastern bank of the Dam. We are ready for the veterans and primes to reinforce."
It was a classic Legion tactic. The recruits would swarm first and hit the defenses. If they won, they were all promoted to prime and would be used in the next wave. The only reason a recruit remained a recruit was because they were either dead or in their first battles. A battle like Hoover Dam would bloody these new ones quickly.
He received runners from several centurions that had also assaulted the eastern part of the dam. Hundreds had been killed; but many NCR profligates had fallen. Lanius's plan of flanking had worked wonders. There would be no retreat.
"Centurion, the centuries in the Dam itself are working their way towards the General's office. We are to push and remove the NCR dogs from the western part of the Dam," his runner said, returning from the camp. As if to back up his words, an artillery shell arced once more from the Hill, destroying another NCR sniper's hiding spot.
"Anthony, return to your unit. Vexillarius, you will be taking point. For Caesar!"
"For Caesar!"
Their next target were the center and towers of the Dam. Dangerous opponents awaited them. Rangers, the ultimate snakes of the decedent Bear. Each ranger had killed legionnaires. Not a single ranger had ever been bested in hand to hand combat, not even the women. It made his heart beat fast with anxiety and nervousness.
His men were formed behind two other centurions, both of them newly promoted. Their unbloodied primes charged first, straight into the brown uniforms of the waiting NCR. Rangers fired lever-action rifles, hunting rifles, assault weapons, and other weapons that devastated that first line of legionnaires. The legionnaires discipline won out and enough of them reached the sandbags to attempt to kill the Rangers.
"Kill the profligates! Make sure that no degenerate escapes alive!" his voice rose over the fighting. Steel upon steel, iron upon iron, fist upon fist. The primes were being killed at an alarming rate when Severus's men arrived. The recruits, fresh from their first taste of battle and blood, plunged into the chaotic fighting, machetes and guns drawn. Severus whisked out his machete and joined his men.
The first ranger was flung towards him by a massive decanus and he stabbed the ranger in the gap between his armor that was evident in his chest and shoulder. A bullet pinged off his shoulder and he turned, only to be hit by three more rounds from a marksman carbine, only making him angry.
The ranger that fired on him was tall and broad. His eyes were stormy as the centurion charged him, machete in hand, and he drew his combat knife and counter-charged him. Severus ducked beneath the knife and slammed his fist into the side of the ranger. The man stumbled but quickly regained his posture. He roared and charged the centurion again, his knife stabbing and slithering like a snake's tongue, but the centurion laughed at his pitiful attempts to kill him. This will be sweet. Severus parried the knife with ease before hacking into the ranger's arm, the patrol armor dented by the strike.
All around him legionnaires and rangers were fighting. Hundreds were dying and he felt glorious. He knew that Caesar would reward the survivors richly. The ranger would be his first gift to Nova Roma. For Caesar. The ranger he was facing attacked once more, his face red. Severus grew tired of the debacle. Advancing on the ranger he charged forward, and knowing that the ranger would dodge to the side, switched machete to the left hand. As predicted, the ranger leapt to his right, only for a machete to lodge straight into his chest. Blood poured and the ranger quivered.
"You'll never win. General Oliver...he will kill you all. His men are already on their way and reinforcements from McCarran are nearly here," the ranger said, coughing up blood. Severus sneered at the ranger.
"A challenge from the Bear? I dare not ask what makes you think that you will win. Mars watches over us, Caesar leads us, and you shall all die. I will enjoy watching your brethren be crucified on the Dam. But you will die before you see it profligate," and with a quick swipe of his machete, the ranger died.
The first checkpoint was up ahead. Dead NCR troopers were littering the sandbags, mingling with Legion. He saw that there were more legionnaires than NCR. It didn't matter. Mars's will shall be done. He did a quick headcount of his remaining men. Twelve. Anthony was organizing them into ranks of six. These were the finest men he had and he was slightly impressed by their performance in battle. Maybe they would become primes at the end of the battle.
He entered the building, seeing two senior centurions and a veteran decanus in deep discussion.
"Flavius reports that his men were thrown back from the intake tower and the NCR now has it under control. Centurion Severus has cleared up the remains of the defenders from the eastern part of Hoover Dam, but most of our men were flushed out of the turbines and power plants by those damn Veteran Rangers of the NCR. I suggest that we secure the top part of the Dam and then move in and kill General Oliver to remove this...filth from the Earth," the first centurion said. His name was Cato and a good commander. He had been the second in command of Legate Lanius's campaign against the dogs of Colorado.
"There are snipers still on the hills and the towers. And the Hill has fallen silent for some reason. Should we send a runner and find out what happened?" suggested the second centurion, Dominicus. He had been instrumental in moving his men from Arizona to Nevada and destroying the NCR fortifications at Fort Abandon and Willow Beach.
"Yes. Decanus, send your fastest man to the Hill and find out why it no longer answers our calls. Severus, how many men remain in your century?" Cato asked. Severus answered twelve.
"That means we have a little less than three hundred men remaining to take the top of the Dam. Severus, it is imperative that you take the intake tower. Without the artillery support from the Hill we're going to be sitting ducks to those snipers. Flavius has two hundred men. The Legatus will release the second wave once we take the top of the Dam."
"Dead Sea shall lead the recruits in the first wave and Severus will lead the primes and the veterans in the second wave," Cato explained briefly. The decanus put his fist to his chest and bowed.
"Is there any questions?" Dominicus asked and by his tone, clearly expected none.
"Then go. May Caesar lead you and may Mars help you kill your enemies."
He felt the cool relief as he ejected the spent brass from the rifle. Reworking the bolt, he injected another round into his rifle's chamber and shouldered it. He scanned the Dam for more legionnaires; the last attack had cost them twenty men. The .308 round was enough to kill any legionnaire and he was damn lucky to have his rifle; Paciencia. He had bought when he was rotating from Ranger Station Charlie to Hoover Dam and had used in stopping the legionnaire assassin at Hoover Dam. Now outfitted with a scope, he brought the sights and lined them up with his eyes, hidden beneath the goggles.
He saw the checkpoint building that had fallen to the Legion. Golden standards with a red bull were being planted by legionnaires and he dared not fire on them. He had to wait for the officers. He heard a shout and looking down, he saw rangers dragging their fallen and other troopers readying ammo and weapons for the next charge. There were only so many left on this side of the Dam. The east side had fallen to the red tide; the last transmission from the checkpoint was that their line had been broken.
He was working with sweat, waiting with anticipation for the next legionnaires to come. He did not have to wait long. The door bursted open and the first of Caesar's finest streamed out. He spotted a decanus with fancy feathers pluming from his head and fired. The rifle spoke and a bullet cracked and the new officer fell face first, a neat little hole in the side of his head. He then switched to a centurion wading through the onslaught of legionnaires and fired, only for the bullet to bounce off the shoulder armor of the centurion. Cursing, he worked the bolt again, firing, but catching a prime in the neck, blood spurting from where the heavy caliber rifle round nearly decapitated him.
"Stevens! Concentrate your fire on the intake tower...it seems that the Legion is heading there. Make sure no one makes it!" his radio ordered him. The voice of Ranger Jackson resonating within him, he shifted his aim, seeing three legionnaires making a beeline for the tower. The squad that had secured it was being pummeled to death by veteran that was bad. He aimed for the back of the first one, leaping over the sandbags and severing a trooper's head from his body with a single cleave of an axe. Firing just two seconds later, the bullet slammed full force into the legionnaire's back and he toppled over.
First one. He sighted the second one. He was busy smashing in the head of the sergeant of the squad. He fired once more and the rifle spoke.
Second.
The third was charging the last remaining member of the squad. His chainsaw revved, the teeth of the saw bit into the light armor the man wore. Stevens cursed as he lined up the sights on the last legionnaire. He pressed the trigger, all the hate, all the sorrow, all the guilt, burrowing straight into his finger.
Three.
The red sea was nearly on top of them now. From his vantage point in the tower he could see dozens of legionnaires swarming, charging, and then vaulting over the sandbags. The few rangers and troopers left would never survive the charge. He fired away, catching the same centurion in the chest, but he refused to fall as he carved a bloody hole into a ranger with his thermal lance.
Only forty or so men remained to defend the top of the Dam. There were on so many men to defend it with and Stevens was one of the only ones left on the damn piece of concrete that had cost the New California Republic two thousand men and fifty million caps to secure. He watched as dreams and hopes were crushed before the bull. He fired without caring, death all around him.
And then they were climbing onto the tower. His rifle all out of ammo, he threw it to the ground, drawing his .45 pistol. It had been a gift from a man who had been traveling down the road from the Strip to the Outpost. He waited...and fired once. The legionnaire screamed and plunged back into the swirling abyss of red and Stevens waited.
He had no doubt the centurion would be up there to kill him.
So much for so little. California was too strong for the Legion to conquer. Or so he hoped. All he wanted to know was that the child he had never seen and the wife he had just married would be alive when he died. He didn't want them to know the horrors of the Legion and he never wanted his child to be raised a legionnaire, to become a minion of a maniac bent on conquering the world.
"The Legion is the future. We are the ones who will bring civilization to the world, unforgiving and harsh as it may be. We are all pawns of Caesar and Mars will lead him to victory. Give up ranger and you may be granted the honor of beheading," a grave voice promised him from below.
"Fuck you! I will never give myself up to a fucking piece of shit like you!" he threw back, his voice cracking. Maria and Linda…Please forgive me! I love you, I love you, I love yo-
And he was thrown forward as the dynamite soared through the air, making him jump up and land on near the edge of the tower. The ladder groaned and he saw the centurion. Tall and majestic, as if an ancient god in a new world, the centurion leaned forward.
"You proved quite the adversary. Even now, we are sweeping your brothers from the top of the Dam. All of you will die. You killed the best decanus in the centuria...Dead Sea. For that, I shall honor my promise…" and he heard the smooth flourish of a machete being unsheathed. He looked up, his face covered by goggles and a black face wrap. The centurion raised his blade.
"Si vas pacem...para bellum. Your general should have been more prepared. It took us years to replenish the losses from the first battle...to look for a worthy commander to replace the fallen legate of Legion I...and you wasted it. Such a shame. I was looking for a better challenge from the Bear. We shall march to the west...and I shall have the honor of being placed as the right hand of the new Caesar of the land of the stretching sun."
He felt his lower back, peppered by shrapnel and dirt.
"I want to have the honor of knowing who I am about to kill. What is your name profligate?" he asked, his voice a whisper. Joshua Aaron Stevens, twenty-five years old, part of the 3rd Rangers from Redding, husband to Maria Stevens and father to Linda Stevens, spit upwards.
"My name is Joshua Stevens. And I hope you burn in whatever hell you believe in you murderous rapist slaver bastard!" he spat again. The centurion wiped the spit from his helmet.
"A spirited one. Always a pleasure killing your kind. As promised profligate-Stevens, I will behead you. Maybe I shall find your family and inform them of your fighting spirit."
He felt the cool blade, splattered with hot blood, rest against his neck. Allowing himself to breathe, he lowered it. It was inescapable. He was about to die. The last thoughts he would have, he decided, would be of Maria and Linda.
Maria...take Linda and head to Klamath. Please. Go to my mother and my father and tell them what I have asked.
The blade descended downwards. But fate was not done with Joshua. As the blade was about to make contact with Stevens's head, a blast from a missile launcher rocketed the tower. The centurion stumbled and almost fell off the tower. Joshua raised his head.
"No. No! HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!" the centurion roared. The large man ran forward to the edge of the tower and shouted downwards to his men rushing to destroy the last vestiges of resistance on top of the Dam.
"Kill them! Kill them! Don't let him near!"
And for some reason Joshua Stevens of Redding raised his head and thought...I'm moving to New Vegas. Bring the family here. And then he shoved the centurion over the edge, into the awaiting abyss of iron and steel.
Severus awoke. He felt the blistering heat of the Mojave sun beat upon him. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be dead. How is he alive? The man was impossible to kill!
Feeling for his machete, he fought back the aching pain of falling three stories by plunging his blade straight into the back of a NCR soldier, firing his rifle into the mass of legionnaires in front of him. And then he turned.
To see a mass wave of iron and steel. Brotherhood of Steel paladins in power armor and grasping energy weapons were joined by massive robots all moving on one wheel. Rocket pods were evident in their unwielding shoulders, their screens portraying a gruff pre-war soldier chomping a cigar between their teeth. Laser fire, actual fucking lasers erupted from their hands and he saw two dozen legionnaires mowed before him as if they were dew on the morning grass.
He heard the rallying cry of the NCR.
"Remember Nelson!" the war cry sprang from their throats as dozens upon dozens of NCR troopers, all the survivors of the battle on the top of the Dam rallied to throw back the merciless Legion. And for the first time in his life...he saw legionnaires flee.
"Cowards! Cowards! Fight for Caesar! For the East! Mars demands it, I demand it!" he called after them but it was all in vain. Legion discipline could not hold up to unknown monsters in unyielding steel. Lasers and green plasma forced the legionnaires back. The pitiful weapons of the Legion, weapons that would kill any NCR degenerate, was not up for the task of killing armored beasts like the men in front of him.
Or so the profligates thought. Waves of veterans arrived, power fists and chainsaws revved. They were the last hopes in turning back these saviors of the NCR. The Bear would fall today and nothing would stop Severus.
For he was Caesar's son and the son of the Bull would never fail his father.
Even in death.
His murdered father's last bemused request.
A...reprive. I have recently entered my senior year of high school and I am packed wtih classes. I just couldn't focus on Of Our Own Accord...so I put my copy of New Vegas into my xbox and seventy-two hours later...Disciples of Vegas was created. It will be a three part series: first one will establish the basic 'canon' in this universe, second one will be the various struggles of the state, and the third will be...special. Anway, have a nice day.
-DeathBladeVI