A two headed bear. That is what Corporal Francis Kinkaid awoke to every morning. The NCR flag was draped directly above his bunk, as a way of reminding him who he served he supposed. Oliver's way of telling his subordinates this is what you will fight for in the coming weeks. Although by now, the New California Republic had grown distant and vague in his mind, not only in spirit but in mind. He had served two years as a medic in the Mojave wastes, treated more infections, sawed more bones, and dressed more scars for combatants mothers to cry over than he cared to remember. Francis was tired. But who wasn't? He had only a month left in his tour, but what a month it was shaping up to be. General Oliver told them just as they were drifting into sleep that Legate Lanius, the Monster of the East, was making his move soon as scouts had been spotted around the Dam, just in time for Kimball's visit the following midday.
They were all soldiers, and like soldiers on the front line, they dreamed of blood and violence, their buddies corpses lying in a heap, Caesar marching on Shady Sands while his Legionaries raped their girlfriends, wives, and daughters. Out of these nightmares came hope and incentive. Incentive to fight and sacrifice their very lives to prevent that. To tell Caesar and his Legate... "Don't Tread on the Bear"
Francis crawled out of bed and into the showers, ignoring all of his compatriots congratulations, praise, and well wishing. He leaned his head on the wall, and let the warm water run down his back. Although he was a Senator's son, the medal that President Aaron Kimball would pin to his chest was not the result of strings being pulled by a PR doctor back in his fathers re-election office. It was because of murder, slaughter at its finest. An utter bloodbath.
Regret. Corruption. Lies. Ignorance. Murder... I shouldnt be getting this. Ray should, not me. Survivors guilt, whatever... its the truth. Damnation awaits me, and im going to be greeted by every man woman and child I slew in Quarry 11... I never want to hear that name again. Today I'll take that medal, and throw it into the Colorado. Then I'll put the barrel of my gun to my right temple, squeeze the trigger, and fall into the river. In a matter of days I'll be joined by every casualty thrown over the side of the Hoover Dam. Who knows maybe Oliver himself will be there... Francis tried his best to shut out these thoughts. The NCR bear blood in him claimed he was a hero. But the man, the human, the truth said he was a monster. A Demon in combat armor.
He left the showers before anyone came in, put on his dress browns, and took the elevator to the surface, his fathers pearl grip 357. Magnum in his holster.