-Primm-
A dusty and broken asphalt road sloping downwards into an equally dusty, broken town. A creaking rollercoaster curling around a pockmarked building. Two casinos, staring at each other across the street with the eternal rivalry of competing businesses. A neon Bison set high up on a sign, cheerfully rotating despite the hot and thick air which hung over it.
There was an intersection in the center of the dilapidated town. In that intersection was a single man, standing unflinchingly despite the high-noon Sun which beat down on him.
He wore a wide-rimmed, black cowboy hat which shadowed a hardened and grim face. He was clad in faded jeans and a stained, white button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up. A beaten-up 10mm pistol rested in the holster at his hip. Further up, on the left side of his breast, was a rusted metal star which dully reflected in the sunlight. He continued to stare forward, watching as the hooded men in rudimentary armor marched towards him.
Legionnaires.
There was a squad of eight of them, led by a decanus with a feathered helmet. But everyone knew that there were many more of Caesar's Legion nearby, ready to swoop down on the town if necessary.
The legionnaires stopped about sixty feet away from the man in the intersection. The decanus stepped forward, his clear and deep voice cutting through the stagnant dust and air.
"Are you the representative of the authority of this town?"
"The name's Sheriff Meyers," said the man in a slow, Southern drawl. He chewed on a wad of tobacco. "And this here is Primm, under my jurisdiction."
The feathered helmet of the decanus bobbed as he responded, "By order of Caesar, the victor of Hoover Dam, this town is now declared to be property of the Legion. All persons, belongings, and resources are hereby forfeit, their distribution and usage to be assessed and determined by Centurion Fulgucius, by the power vested in him by Caesar himself."
Sheriff Meyers glanced from the decanus to the other legionnaires present. "And I suppose this Centurion feller won't be open to some friendly discussion about yours declaration here?"
"No," said the decanus. "There will be no 'friendly discussion'. You are to comply promptly or suffer immediate and lethal prejudice." His hand fell by the gladius hanging off his belt.
"Now you listen here," said the sheriff, coolly examining the subtle change in posture of the legionnaires, "maybe y'all never received a proper education on treating your hosts, but I suppose there inn't much room in your brains for some regular politeness after all that slavery nonsense you've been fed on." He spat out the tobacco chew on the ground beside him. "See here, Primm? I'm the sheriff of this town. It's only been a few months, but I guess you can say I've gotten a little more than attached to this place. Now I reckon you can probably imagine how the other people of this fine little township are feelin' about that 'declaration' of yours."
Unseen by the legionnaires, a figure was skulking behind the massive wooden sign of the Bison Steve casino. Sheriff Meyers continued to speak:
"We've been sweating and bleeding to make ends meet for a long time. Hell, part of the reason why I'm wearing this star of mine was because the people here got overrun by some convicts. An' all these fine folks have been working their rears off ever since, tidying up the place to get some trade start filterin' back. And now you come here, flashing a sword around, tellin' us to get off our own land."
Cloaked in darkness, more shadows moved around in the windows of the casinos and buildings. The sheriff brushed a speck of dirt off his shirt and pressed on.
"Now I hate to be bursting your bubble and all, but I have something to tell you. That crimson uniform? That don't mean anything here. We don't take ownership from nobody. Not raiders. Not the NCR. And sure as hell not you." Sheriff Meyers glanced up at the sky for a moment. He then turned his frigid gaze back towards the legionnaires in front of him. Staring directly in the eyes of the decanus, his ice-cold tone chilled the burning heat.
"Now get the hell out of my town."
The decanus bristled, saying nothing for a tense moment. Then he responded, "So be it, profligate," and reached for his gladius.
A .38 round made contact with the decanus' forehead, puncturing right through the feathered helmet and the skull, burying itself deep in his brain. The decanus dropped immediately.
The legionnaires gaped for a moment at the corpse of their squad leader, stunned by his sudden death. Then they went for their weapons.
Bullets rained down on the legionnaires from the windows of the Bison Steve, the townspeople hidden inside making up for their inaccuracy with a sheer volume of fire. Two more legionnaires fell, clutching the bullet wounds in their chests.
Sheriff Meyers whipped out the pistol and aimed at the closest charging legionnaire. His first shot hit his target in the shoulder and his second smacked home right in torso. The legionnaire fell. One of the other legionnaires readied a throwing spear and hurled it at the sheriff.
The spear flashed by the sheriff's face, just barely grazing his hat. Without hesitation or pausing, the sheriff turned his aim towards the next legionnaire, firing off two more shots in quick succession. Both bullets embedded themselves in the breast of his mark.
One of the three legionnaires left was now within striking range of the sheriff, readying his machete for a low swing to aim to disembowel. Sheriff Meyers took a step back, trying to swing his pistol to meet the oncoming threat.
He didn't have to. Another .38 round punched through the legionnaire's armor and dropped him. Meyers glanced upwards the Bison Steve sign and spotted his savior.
"Thanks for the assist, Beagle!" he shouted.
The blonde-haired amateur scout, perched behind the cover of the wooden sign, shouted back, "You can thank me by reinstating me as deputy! Now get to cover, Sheriff Meyers!" Ex-deputy Beagle ejected a spent cartridge from his repeater and retook up his aim.
The other two legionnaires soon fell from the gunfire. However, any celebration was short-lived.
"We've got company!" said a townsperson from up on the third story of the Bison Steve, pointing her finger at the figures moving swiftly over the hill to the south. Legion reinforcements.
Men in crimson uniforms sprinted across the cracked dirt and concrete. Most poured down the main road. Several others began climbing up the wooden beams of the rollercoaster, seeking to flank the defenders in the tall casino. When they came into range, the townspeople opened up, dropping several of the enemy as they charged forward.
Those legionnaires armed with ranged weapons returned fire. In the casino, bullets ricocheted off the windowsills, forcing the shooters inside to take cover and pick their shots carefully.
Sheriff Meyers had retreated to the corner of the Mojave Express building, firing calmly at the legionnaires despite their sheer numerical superiority. As his pistol clicked empty, he fell back just as the closest legionnaires came within melee range.
He ran, leading his pursuers into the street between the Vicki & Vance casino and the Mojave Express storefront. Just as the legionnaire began to swing his machete at Meyers' back, the sheriff leaped to the ground and ducked his head.
The doors of the Mojave Express were kicked open from the inside, revealing a very disgruntled Johnson Nash who immediately opened fire. His revolver spat six times, dropping the legionnaire by Meyers and wounding the rest.
"Goddamn gangsters are back again, Ruby!" he yelled behind him as he stepped out of the door opening.
Ruby Nash' caravan shotgun barked twice, splattering another legionnaire against the wall of the opposite building. She ducked her head behind the counter of the Mojave Express' desk. "Hah! 'Bout time. God forbid we have some peace and quiet around here." Reloaded, she popped back up and fired again.
From down the street, in the cover of an old bus stop, more townspeople fired at the legionnaires, completing the ambush which Sheriff Meyers had led his pursuers into. Now with some breathing room, the sheriff jumped up and ran to the cover of the back of the Vicki & Vance, just as more legionnaires turned and came down that street.
Across the way, some legionnaires reached the main doors of the Bison Steve, crashing into the ground lobby. They faced little resistance there as they made their way to the stairwells to clear out the shooters upstairs.
The first legionnaire who turned the corner of the first stairwell, however, received a face full of buckshot. Two residents of Primm took turns keeping up a steady cover of fire on the bottlenecked stairs, stalling the legionnaires from advancing.
On the roof, Beagle was reloading his repeater when a townsperson clutching an old shotgun came up beside him, crouching behind the cover of the wooden sign.
Mara, the townsperson, spoke quickly, "Beagle! They're coming up the stairs. We're holding them for now, but it won't be long before they break through."
Beagle finished loading the cartridge with a satisfying click. He turned to her, "Well, we oughta pull back to the upper floors. Use dynamite the collapse the stairs behind you. Just make sure not to—LOOK OUT!"
He yanked her to the ground, just as a spear came sailing from behind them and crashed into their cover. Two legionnaires had managed to climb up the rollercoaster and were running to where it connected with the hotel. More were coming up behind them.
Both Beagle and Mara advanced forward to some cover on the other side of the roof and opened fire. Their combined efforts managed to drop one of the legionnaires, but the other reached the door to the second floor and went inside.
"Damn! Well this adventure isn't turning out to be so pretty," said Beagle as he turned to Mara, "I'm going to use some dynamite to close off the 'coaster, you get yourself back to the third floor. Get everyone out of there, lead them to the roof."
Mara nodded and ran downstairs.
Beagle grasped a stick of dynamite. "Well, time to see if my throwing accuracy is any good." He used a cigarette lighter to light the fuse, waiting for a few seconds as the next wave of legionnaires on the rollercoaster ran closer. Then, at the right time, he hurled the explosive far out, landing it right in the center of the coaster's rails.
The explosion took out a legionnaire unlucky enough to be right where the dynamite landed. It also blew several legionnaires back and blasted a sizable hole in the rollercoaster, adding another break in the already ruined track. The whole structure began to creak as it suffered one wound too many.
"Fancy. That was fine throw, Beagle," said Beagle to himself. He then ran back into the cover of the wooden sign and resumed his fire.
Down below on the second floor, the one legionnaire who had managed to make it inside swiftly passed through the hallways and came up behind the two townsmen manning the stairwell. Before they could react, he launched himself at them, using his machete to quickly dispatch them both. And with that, the legionnaires who had been kept down below rushed upwards, racing to reach the third floor.
"Nash! Get your dried-up ol' ass over here!" shouted Sheriff Meyers, from behind the Vicki and Vance. The bodies of legionnaires were scattered all over the killzone. He slammed a magazine up into his pistol. "You'll get swarmed!"
Johnson Nash blasted another legionnaire who had run around the corner with his well-used revolver. He turned his head back into the store, "You heard the man, Ruby. It's about time we relocate."
Just as Ruby stood up to respond, another legionnaire ran forward and slashed his hatchet into the stomach of the unarmored Johnson Nash. The older man grunted as the force of the attack pushed him back against the wall.
Ruby screamed and blasted the legionnaire point blank with both barrels of her shotgun, killing him. She looked at her husband, who was barely holding himself up against the wall.
"Get goin', Ruby, there are more coming," he managed to say before his face doubled up in pain. He then slid to the floor just as more legionnaires came bursting into the store.
From down the street, Sheriff Meyers saw as the Nash residence was assaulted by the legionnaires. He and the other townspeople managed to shoot down a couple, but could only really watch as the Nash husband and wife duo were both killed inside their own home.
"Goddamn it!" Meyers gritted his teeth. He looked over at the other defenders nearby. "Keep up the fire, everyone, but get ready to move on the dime. We might have to fall back to the garage very soon." He then pointed his gun down the street and opened fire again, resolving himself to make the Legion pay for the lives they had taken.
Back in the Bison Steve, some dynamite managed to buy the townspeople some time as they fell back to the upper roof. Beagle glanced behind him as Mara and four other people clambered through and barricaded the window through which they came.
Mara came up to him, "They got Henry and Bill at the stairway, but we managed to get almost everyone else out before the legion got to them from behind."
"Where's old Mike?" asked Beagle.
"The Legion got him. Managed to plug him with a lucky shot from down in the street."
"Shit," spat Beagle, "All right, get everyone to head to the north side of the roof. Take up position there. We'll try and take as many of these bastards down when they come up after us."
"'Kay," said Mara. She then looked at him curiously, paused, and spoke, "Beagle? I'm surprised to see such a change in you. You've got a lot more courage now, and it's really starting to count."
Beagle cleared his throat, "Why thank you, Mara. I did some soul-searching after my unpleasant departure from law enforcement." He then stifled a grunt of pain as he shifted himself.
"Oh Beagle! Were you hit? Are you bleeding?
Beagle had been holding a hand over his thigh. "Oh, this? Why yes I am bleeding. It's quite a grievous wound, you see, and I didn't want you to worry."
At Mara's insistence, Beagle showed her the wound.
It was a tiny graze, barely grazing the leather armor and not even puncturing through the inner cloth layer.
Mara stared blankly at Beagle. "A grievous wound?"
"Well, I, uh, suppose the description 'grievous' is a relative term." Beagle awkwardly coughed. "Now should we get to position?"
"Yes, let's go," brusquely said Mara. She didn't give him a hand up as she quickly followed the others to the other side of the roof. She muttered herself, "He hasn't changed that much."
As Beagle struggled upwards, he looked back at the south from the Legion had come. There was a man in extensive, mismatched armor and a centurion helmet walking down the street, flanked by several legionnaires. He was shouldering a menacing-looking axe. Before Beagle could take a few shots at them, fire from the legionnaires below forced him down and to retreat to the north side of the roof.
Below in the streets, Meyers and his defenders had been pushed back to the cover of the boarded-up garage. There were only four of them and they were running low on ammunition.
"Sheriff!" shouted a townsperson. "We've got only a few shotgun cartridges left!"
Sheriff Meyers was also down to his last magazine. "Use the dynamite once they come down the street again!"
"Got it!" the townsperson reached behind him to grab a few sticks of the explosive. The people of Primm, after being liberated from the Powder Gangers so many months before, had found themselves in possession of more dynamite than they could ever need from the convicts' stockpiles. When Meyers had started planning the town's defense for when the Legion inevitably came, the dynamite was distributed to be put to good use.
Three legionnaires ran down the street, hurling javelins as they charged. Meyers and the other townspeople hurled several sticks of dynamite back. After a tense moment, the dynamite detonated, blasting miniature craters in the concrete street and felling the three crimson-clad soldiers.
On the other side of the Vicki and Vance, the centurion kicked down the doors of the casino. Primm Slimm turned to the intruders and chirped cheerfully.
"Howdy partner, welcome to the Vicki and Van—" the centurion's axe slashed down on the head of the slumbering old protectron, destroying the old guardian of the casino in one fell swoop.
The centurion looked around, fully expecting to see more townspeople foolishly manning barricades in the casino.
There was nobody there.
The centurion barked at the legionnaires accompanying him, "Search the place! Kill anyone you find."
"At once, Centurion Fulgucius." The legionnaires fanned out to search the casino.
This was odd, thought the centurion. If he counted correctly, there were far fewer people here in the town of Primm than what the reports said. Perhaps the townspeople are hiding elsewhere? Or maybe, could this be only a distracting force? The centurion readied his weapon and walked down the street to lead another group of legionnaires and flush out the few people left on the ground.
On the roof, Beagle, Mara, and the other defenders were fending off the advancing legionnaires. It had become an exchange of gunfire as more legionnaires with ranged weapons made their way upstairs. One by one, the defenders fell.
"There's too many!" said a townsperson who was frantically reloading his pistol.
"Well, looks like this is it, everyone," said Beagle. "We've got nowhere else to go." He took up careful aim and fired twice, killing a legionnaire with carefully place shots.
One of the other defenders jumped out of cover to fire his rifle at the enemy, but was hit by a bullet immediately. He dropped to the ground, clawing at the wound .
Mara fired two shots and fell back by Beagle, reloading her shotgun. "What do we do now?" she said.
Beagle looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I suppose we could say our last words. That's a good a thing to do as any, right?"
Mara glanced over at him. "…Okay, I guess there's nothing else to do." A bullet ricocheted off the cover they were behind. She fired back and then dropped back down. "You want to go first?" she said, gazing into Beagle's eyes.
Beagle returned the emotional gaze before clearing his throat. "Well, here I go then." He then looked a little sheepish. "Well, Mara, you, uh, you know that casserole that Ruby Nash for the town festival about a month ago?"
Mara frowned, "Yeah, I do. She left it on the counter to cool and when she came back it was gone."
"Well, I suppose I oughta to tell you. I snuck it away and ate it when no one was looking."
"Beagle!"
"Whew," said Beagle, brushing a hand over his forehead, "I feel loads better now. Glad I got that off my chest." He looked at her, "So how about you?"
Mara huffed, the emotional gaze long gone. "Never mind now. Just shut up and shoot, you blonde idiot." She raised herself and opened up with her 20 gauge. Beagle followed after, firing his repeater and ejecting the spent cartridges in rapid fire.
They fought to the last, managing to bring down two more charging legionnaires before they, too, fell to a flurry of machetes and hatchets.
In the street, Centurion Fulgucius stepped forward towards the defenders entrenched around the garage. He took a step back and then angled himself to launch forward at a run.
"Throw the dynamite!" shouted Meyers.
The defenders chucked the dynamite just as the centurion sprinted forward. The explosions went off right behind him, managing to hurt a couple of the other accompanying legionnaires but overall not hurting the main threat.
The townspeople opened up, most of their shots going wide. The bullets that did strike home bounced uselessly off the centurion's armor. Too soon, the centurion was within striking range and swung his axe down.
The first strike slashed a townsperson diagonally on the chest and slammed them back. The second strike was done with so much force that it struck the next townsman and carried the body into the wall of the garage, smacking into the concrete with a sickening crunch.
The next townsman fired on the centurion with his shotgun, point blank. The 12 gauge shells forced the centurion back a step, until the shotgun clicked empty. The townsman's eyes opened wide for a moment, until Sheriff Meyers unloaded his pistol into an unarmored spot on the centurion's leg who was forced to go down on his other knee.
But before the he could thank the sheriff, the centurion swung his axe forward, embedding the blade into the townsman's chest, dropping him immediately.
Sheriff Meyers was now the only one left. He raised his pistol and aimed it at the centurion's head, his finger primed on the trigger. Before he could pull it, a javelin flashed through the air and punched through his shoulder.
Other legionnaires had arrived at the garage. Meyers was carried backwards by the javelin and landed on his side, his pistol sent flying.
He could feel the blood beginning to pool out of the wound as he laid on the broken, concrete ground. The centurion was helped up by two other legionnaires, who then leaned on one of them as he walked forward towards the helpless sheriff.
"You…sheriff," said Centurion Fulgucius, pointing a gloved finger at the star resting on Meyers' chest. "Where are the rest of the people who resided here?"
Sheriff Meyers started to chuckle as he felt his life force seep out of him. "Finally figured it out, didn't ya?"
"You sent them away. This was all a holding action to give the rest of the people a chance to escape."
Meyers looked up at the centurion, winking. "Bingo." He coughed. "They're all far, far away by now. Everyone you killed today was someone who volunteered to stay behind to keep your attention. You won't be bringing back any slaves to Caesar." He hacked again, and his voice became quieter and rougher. "Not today."
Enraged, the centurion grabbed a machete from one his legionnaires and sunk the blade into the sheriff's chest, hastening the process of death. Meyers' eyes closed, a smile just barely gracing the edges of his lips. The rusted, metal star on his chest continued to shine in the Sun's rays.
Centurion Fulgucius looked around him, examining the suddenly-quiet battlefield.
More casualties than expected. Much more. Most of the legionnaires who now decorated the streets were recruits, but it was surprising to see how many the undisciplined, untrained townspeople had managed to cut down.
No live captures. Virtually no valuable resources to be found. Caesar would not be pleased. The wound that the centurion had sustained, too, would be an embarrassment.
Still. Primm had been captured. Its defenders vanquished. The Bull would fly high over this town within the hour, marking the newest addition to the massive territory of the Legion.
Additionally, there had been no NCR troops helping Primm's defenders. This tidbit of information was important, as it signified that the profligate Republic was still in full retreat. The NCR was not willing to hold back the tide of the Legion, content to try and escape the Mojave Wasteland with as many forces as possible. This was good news.
With luck, the Legion could advance all the way to the Mojave Outpost without significant opposition. And if Caesar's ambitions grew and he ordered his forces to advance further west? There was no doubt that all of California would be ripe for the taking.
A/N: I always liked Sheriff Meyers and his vision of wasteland justice. Time to develop all that potential badassery into something awesome.
At one point while playing New Vegas with Cass as a companion, she made a comment about how she wishes the NCR would step up on its own, and she questions whether or not "helping" the NCR is for the Republic's good in the long run.
That made me think. A lot.
Defeat, instead of victory, would force some serious self-reflection, recovery, and reform in the fledgling democracy. And not only there, but all over the Mojave Wasteland.
This is an idea that I've been kicking around for a while now. If people show interest, I'll develop this into a full length story, detailing the aftermath of a Legion victory at Hoover Dam.
Thank you for reading and please leave a review!