The Ballad of Mattias Juno
Part I:The End, The Beginning.
By L.A. Ranger
Sergeant Mattias Juno looked down at the box sitting in his lap. Just Mattias now, he thought, as he ran his fingers over the top of the box, feeling the bronze seal of the two-headed bear. Taking a deep breath, he opened the box, there was no golden glow upon his face, only the damp air collecting in his beard, and the heavy revolver inside. Mattias gazed upon the intricate engravings, his eyes coming to a dead stop over the words on the barrel 'For Honorable Service.'
How honorable had he been? His last twenty years had been spent as an enforcer, and a manhunter, keeping tribals and raiders in the california area in line, all in the name of the Bear. He had gained no friends, no lovers, no family. All he had to his name was a shitty apartment, a hard-collected armory, and a table of empty bottles staring him down, knowingly. He raised the gun up from it's case, flipping it around he read the engraving on the otherside, 'Against All Tyrants.'
Mattias was a tyrant. He had driven fear into the hearts of men, women, and children alike who stood up against the Republic's mad grab for land and resources. But he didn't hate the Republic, he knew this kind of hard work had to be done, but no longer by him. Looking at the butt of the grip was the brass plate, engraved upon were the last words, '20 Years.'
Mattias could remember when he joined the Republic, twenty-five years ago. He had mostly been a guard but his defense of a caravan against a raider gang had gotten both him and his best friend promoted to the Rangers. His friend went off east and died, fighting the iron-clad giants of the brotherhood. He had killed two-hundred and thirty-seven men and women, some hard working people, some troublesome bandits, all of them left drops of blood on his hands until they were overflowing.
Mattias had retired from the Rangers, two weeks ago. He didn't like retirement, it gave him too much time to think of what he's done and get drunk. He looked up at his wall, which had a propaganda poster on it, showing the helmet of the 'Legate' leading Caesar's army out east. The man had an ego, an army, and a bad temperament against anything he didn't control. He tossed the gun's box aside and stood upright hastily, he raised his gun to the poster, vowed that this gun would kill this true tyrant, and caesar too. He pulled the trigger, leaving a fist sized crater in his wall. He grabbed his weapons, the Sequoia, his sawn-off shotgun, and his well-used and well-maintained fire axe; Timber. He donned his armor, a set of LAPD riot gear, the paint of the bear ground away. He was not part of the NCR anymore, he was a citizen of the Wasteland, and he wouldn't rest until he ended the Tyrany of the Mojave.
