New story ! Wooo. This was originally going to be a third installment for Janet and Charon but i felt because they have kids it was difficult to work with and their relationship is too sweet for what is going to happen with this story. Bumps should be updated tomorrow.

Please enjoy and review :)

Prologue:

The sun blasted down on Stephanie. She was tired, hungry and injured and could find no motivation within her to fight. The iron chains rubbed harshly against her right wrist, the left one slightly cushioned by her pip boy glove. She was pushed harshly by a large man in a tunic making her fall against another slave in front of her.

Slave. That is what she was now. They had been captured within the deserts of Arizona, they were trying to make it to Nevada, the Brotherhood had sent them. Her mind began processing ideas of escape. The Brotherhood would send reinforcements once word was sent out that they never reached their destination. Stephanie was one of their highest ranks they had to. Wrong. They would have assumed her team had perished. They were notorious for being strong fighters but even they couldn't win every fight.

Her head slumped down more in disappointment and she pulled herself to her feet when a whip cracked across her back. Stephanie screamed out in agony. Her sunburnt back receiving the worst of it. The slave in front of her held her hand and held Stephanie steady.

She looked into the slaves eyes seeing a mirror image of her own expression. Horror, despair, anxiety.

"He will save us. I know it." The slave whispered desperately.

For a fraction of a second Stephanie thought that she and this slave were waiting on the same man. A glimmer on the woman's ring finger proved her wrong. Her ghoul wasn't married. She had severe doubt that her husband could save her now, but she gave the woman a reassuring smile anyway.

They were getting closer to the 'stage' now. A high platform constructed of wood, on it a man covered by a mask auctioned off the new slaves. Some slaves were devastated, they fell to their knees tears pouring down their face. Pleas escaped their lips for them only to be pulled away by their wrists by their new 'masters'. Other slaves stood stone faced and glassy eyed. Accepting their fate and hoping that their death would be soon and quick.

Uproar was caused by the newest show toy. A young girl, 12 or so. The crowd of men went mad, bellowing and pushing. The girl was short and blonde, her eyes were huge as she stared at the crowd. Tears dripped to the floor and Stephanie could see her lips mutter 'mother' over and over again. She was just a child.

Rage rose in Stephanie's chest. She had killed slavers before, many of them. Her team had wiped out huge colonies. She was known for it. These slavers, Legion as they called themselves, they were too organised, too uniformed. Nothing like the jet induced mad men and women she had dealt with before. They didn't pillage out of drug induced fetishes, they did it because they thought it was their privilege.

The women were only war trophies.

The slave in front squeezed the hand she still held and Stephanie held it tight. She hadn't felt fear like this in many years. The slave adjusted her collar from discomfort showing Stephanie her profile. The woman was pregnant, far along at that. Her medical training told her she was around 30 weeks. The rage returned to Stephanie but she could not act on it. Out of her team they had killed one and enslaved another. Her ghoul had escaped, a small glimmer of hope within the darkness she now faced.

Her eyes scanned the area for her enslaved team member, she couldn't find him. Please be okay she chanted in her head, over and over again.

Her arm was pulled as the woman in front of her was pulled onto the stage. She screamed and held onto Stephanie's hand. The woman was slapped, releasing her hand and dragged up by the hair.

The man held his hand towards the woman and the crowd.

"A woman and a child. In the womb is that of a NCR dog !" The man bellowed.

The crowd became frenzied screaming obscenities and sums of money. In the sunlight Stephanie could see the woman was beautiful. This was probably her downfall. She stood back straight, staring at the hills against the crowd. She would show them no fear and Stephanie could only admire her.

Then her head exploded. The stage was filled with blood and tissue and the slaver dropped the lifeless body.

The crowd panicked and began to disperse. They were pushed and the roars became deafening in Stephanie's ears. The sound attracted men of higher ranks from the tents who bellowed to remain order.

Stephanie was distracted when a man pulled at her hair. In the mayhem, he had decided to claim her as his own, for free. Stephanie wriggled free and smacked her forehead against the man. She then used her wrist chains to wrap around his neck and pull tight until he stopped fighting back. She dropped him there and began to move forward.

Men pushed past paying her no attention. She made it as far as the tent in which the higher rank had came out short before, when she was stopped. She spun her body when a slaver grabbed her wrist. He pulled her close, his mistake. He sniffed at her hair just as she took the knife from his belt, plunging it into his stomach. She backed off as blood poured from his wound and he fell to the ground. A witness of this ran at her in a rage. She held the knife with two hands and aimed it for the attackers throat and swung. He fell too at her feet and she turned to meet the next opponent. He ran towards her and pulled at her hair and kicked her feet from her. She used her legs to bring him to the ground with her. Stephanie rolled straddling the body and rose the knife high.

"STOP !" an empowering voice roared.

Stephanie looked up at the owner. Her toned and trained muscles were covered in blood and she breathed heavily like the warrior she had trained herself to become 4 years ago.

The officer could only smirk at her. She sneered and plunged her knife into the man below her anyway; she didn't have to take his orders.

She quickly looked back up expecting him to fight for his fallen soldier. He did nothing. He stood hiding behind his head of a dog and sunglasses, still smirking.

That was how the Lone Wanderer caught the attention of Vulpes Inculta.