Thanks to all the wonderful people who read the last fic, I couldn't resist writing another one. Once again, this is a continuation of Vici. Sorry if it's hella long.
There was no denying it.
She'd made many poor choices in her current life as well as the days before a piece of lead made itself at home in her brain matter.
Maybe if she'd actually taken up her father's trade in mechanics, then she wouldn't have taken that dead-end job as a courier. Her father had paid for all of their necessities with the price of more prominent wrinkles on his weary face and oil embedded so deep in his hands they would never be clean. She remembered taking his palms and following the inky crags with her tiny fingers. Hypnotized, she believed that they formed the roads of some old map. As time went on and his eyes grew wearier and shifts grew longer, the almost topographical lines might as well have been etched in with blood.
Maybe if she'd given what was left of her family a proper goodbye, she would've realized how stupid and arrogant she was for leaving the stability that was practically guaranteed for a lifetime. She had wanted escape, but had refused to leave her home through the military. Her brothers had joined the NCR and were proud to serve. After a couple years, the letters stopped coming and the reports mentioned nothing about their whereabouts. Her mother denied it, but they all knew that their bodies lay in some unmarked grave. The next few months carried on as usual and their financial situation started looking up, but an unbreakable silence had settled over their household.
She had to leave, get out of California, get away from all that reminded her of her mother's vacant gaze, and her father's lowered expectations of her. She never thought to look back.
Maybe if she had just killed Benny in his sleep and taken that goddamn chip, then she wouldn't be standing around in make-shift Roman armor patched together from football gear and old bits of leather. She wouldn't be in some isolated tent trying to quell the trembling in her knees as she watched the leader of the Frumentarii slowly remove his leather gloves. Her resolve seemed to crumble with each step he took towards her.
"It's either me, or the entire camp."
His hand swept down the length of her back and she felt his whisper more than she heard it.
"Make your choice."
xxxxx
Surprisingly, the meeting with Caesar had gone over well. It eased her mind to know that the rumors of him having a stick of colossal proportions up his ass were entirely true. Activating House's army of Securitrons certainly made up for the throbbing migraine his arrogance caused. Thankfully, this same arrogance was enough for Caesar to neglect sending his men down to check whether or not she'd actually blown up the underground bunker. For now, the courier would revel in her silent triumph, knowing that thousands of Securitrons buzzed with renewed life below the earth she walked on. Nevertheless, it was still important that she put as much distance between her and the Legion camp as soon as possible.
The murmurs of disapproval, the clenched fists, the condescending looks—if Caesar was trying to gain her loyalty, he wasn't doing a very good job. His men had been born and bred to treat women such as herself as some sort of subspecies, so it was understandably hard to break what came as nature. Caesar had other things to bring to the table. He had the option to bribe her over with riches, but what was the point if Mr. House offered the exact same thing?
Fear could also be a useful tool, but it was unlikely that the courier would falter. The memory of dirt beneath her own fingernails as she clawed her way out of that grave was testament enough to her conquest of Death. Now, she was more afraid of living in a wasteland without the freedom of choice than some prick at the head of a parody of an archaic civilization. She laughed at all of his attempts of intimidation. What did she have to lose?
And there was still the unresolved issue of Benny. A few moments ago, it had taken all of her willpower to stifle the white hot rage that flooded her when Caesar so graciously left it up to her to determine his fate. This was a slap in the face, as if he were saying, 'Hey, your methods of revenge kind of suck, so here's a nice, fresh chance to not fuck it up this time!' The arena, crucifixion, or walk away and let him get crucified anyways—Oh, I'm honored, Your Highness. But Benny was never yours to begin with, you bald bastard.
She bowed with as much modesty as she could muster and straightened. Caesar grunted dispassionately and rose to leave for the secluded room at the back of the tent. She couldn't believe that man had the nerve to order her to kill Mr. House.
At her left-hand side, Vulpes Inculta stood with his arms crossed, scrutinizing her with a chilling expression she refused to decipher. He didn't even so much as acknowledge his leader's departure. She broke eye-contact as quickly as possible. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since that little…fiasco at the Lucky 38. Either she was too preoccupied with Caesar's errands or perhaps he was still too full of himself to approach her. Still, she dreaded any further discussion.
He was watching, always watching. Silently, she prayed that the upgrade to the Securitrons would effectively prevent any future break-ins to the Lucky 38. She ignored the prickling of her skin as his cold eyes followed her approach up to the bound Chairman.
It almost disturbed her to see herself tower over someone whose ego, next to Caesar's, was so legendary throughout the Mojave. The ropes on his wrists certainly did nothing to complement the tacky suit he was so fond of wearing.
"So, Baldie's gonna let you handle me now, eh?"
She couldn't hide the embarrassment on her face; the reference didn't elude her. It pleased her to see that he seemed to carry himself proudly despite the Legion beating some answers out of him. If there was one thing that she had to admire about Benny, it was that instead of sniffling like a meek Brahmin calf, he always took his punishment while having something audacious to say right to his enemies' faces. Perhaps that was what earned him the extra purplish bruises on his handsome face.
"Yeah, you knew this would happen eventually."
"Oh, I just didn't think it would be this soon. I was starting to like having my limbs strained for hours and my tolerance for pain pushed to its edge." She winced at his biting sarcasm.
The courier crossed her arms, "Well then, since you enjoy it so much, I can make arrangements for an extended vacation." For dramatic effect, she pretended that her nails were more interesting. "Unfortunately, the only activity scheduled for today would be crucifixion."
Benny chuckled hoarsely, "You wouldn't do that, not with the history we have."
"No, I suppose not," she said, thoughts wandering back to their brief time together at the Tops. It was difficult to believe that that happened only a few weeks ago. Damn it all, she might as well admit it. "I enjoyed it, you know?"
"That's swell, baby," he beamed and the cut on his lip suddenly split open. She found herself wanting to believe it was sincere. "Best thing I've heard all day." He craned his neck and glared at the surrounding praetorians. "Seriously."
"I've been meaning to ask you something though."
"Hit me. Not literally though. I've had enough of that."
"You knew who I was and what I was there for. So, why didn't you try to kill me in my sleep?"
"Yeah, I suppose not everyone I've shot treks across the Mojave just to jump my bones."
"Why?" she asked more assertively this time.
The Chairman outright laughed, "Hah! I guess that bullet really did muddle your head. Think back to when we first met in Goodsprings. I told you something special back there."
She wracked her brain for it, but came up short. All she could remember was the rush of mountain air when the burlap sack was pulled off of her head and the last flash of light before everything went black. She closed her eyes in concentration.
"Don't bust any brain cells over it, kid. You might not have as many left after what happened," Benny sighed. "Anyways, I said 'maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but—'"
"'—I ain't a fink, dig?'" she finished. Look an enemy in the eye. That's about the only trait they shared, though she'd rather the enemy had a weapon drawn.
He smiled again, "Not bad. You might want to work on the accent though. Not everyone gets it on their first shot, pardon the awful pun."
Arms still crossed, she snorted disdainfully.
"So then, what's it gonna be?" Benny asked, wasting no more time.
The courier looked away for a moment, finding it hard to meet his eyes, "Well, crucifixion's a given, so that leaves the arena." Her nose wrinkled at the thought of taking him on one-on-one in the arena. The image of two people wailing on each other with those flimsy blades while onlookers watched it as a sport made her a little queasy. She was by no means 'civilized', but it still felt crude and barbaric, not to mention overly dramatic. Out of all the options though, it had the most even ground and would've been the one she opted for.
However, she cut him off before he could say anything, and making sure that her voice projected she said, "I feel like this isn't my place to decide."
The man in the checkered suit sputtered, "W-what? You can't be serious."
She made a show of straightening her clothing. "You've been a great amount of trouble to me, but now that the chip is back in my possession, I don't see why I have to burden myself with anything else." The courier then turned to leave.
"Wait, don't go—!" She had to admit that the rising desperation in his voice gave a sweet feeling of satisfaction.
"I think Caesar would be more than happy to deal with you himself."
"But what about revenge? That's what you want right?"
She frowned and casually dismissed his attempt to bait her into the arena. "Benny, darling, we stopped being each other's responsibility when we decided to let each other leave the Tops with our lives intact," she said with a straight face. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to clean up New Vegas' mess."
The praetorian guards looked on with mild interest as the courier finally walked away from the red-faced Chairman.
"Dammit, don't leave me here! You heard the big guy; the moment you walk out of this tent, you're throwing me to the wolves, baby!"
She paid no heed to the rest of his colorful insults as she ducked and walked out into the crisp evening. The tent canvas fell closed upon her murderer and the pale man with the blue eyes. Upon escaping the scrutiny of so many people, her sigh of relief was justified. The flow of fresh air in her lungs and the distant sounds of the camp winding down for the day did wonders to clear her muddled mind. Guards milled at their posts and the occasional mongrel wandered between the tents. There wasn't much movement tonight.
"Pfft. It's about time," said Cass as she hoisted herself out of her seat. "Looking at all these stiff Legion fuckers makes me miss drinking. Hell, once I'm smashed enough again, I might just share some with 'em."
"Likewise," the courier grunted as she craned her neck to peer at the clear night sky. "Maybe after a good loosening up, they wouldn't be so bent on taking over the whole damn Mojave."
"Shit, we might as well get Boone in on it too."
The courier let out a short burst of laughter at that.
Raul nodded in greeting as he and Arcade walked up to the courier. "Funny how all the stars are so bright without the lights of Vegas mucking it all up, eh boss?"
"Yeah, I used to see the Milky Way all the time back where I came from," she said, feeling weary but warm at the same time. "It's a darn shame."
"So, do we stick to the same plan, or are we really gonna just stand here looking up at the twinkling lights?" Veronica pouted from her cross-legged position on the ground. "I didn't think I'd need my telescope today."
Arcade shrugged, "I don't know what you see in Benny, but it's your call." The Follower doctor looked extremely on edge; he wanted out of this fucking camp and she couldn't blame him.
"We follow through with the plan. It's ridiculous but," she gave a light-hearted smile, "I guess my stubbornness knows no bounds."
She promptly rolled her eyes at the group's swift noises of agreement.
xxxxx
The bodies of Cursor Lucullus, or whatever the fuck his name was, and the other Legion recruits were unceremoniously dumped over the side of the raft. Lopsided, they bobbed a few times before the current slowly tugged them downriver.
The Legionaries had been caught by surprise, so the courier couldn't really call it a skirmish. The only injuries were a few telltale bruises taken while tackling her target, her switchblade sliding between the cracks of his armor and into his throat. Veronica nearly had her head lobbed off by a wayward machete swing, but other than that, things were going exceedingly well. They dusted off their hands and were ready to move on.
The courier briefly looked off in the direction of Cottonwood Cove and found her thoughts wandering to Boone. It was a sore topic. Leaving him behind was a decision she wished she'd never had to make. She couldn't trust him enough to keep his finger off the trigger once they got to Fortification Hill and he took that pretty hard. Bringing him would've upset all chances they had at reaching a diplomatic solution with Caesar. Leaving Boone behind was the most tactical choice, but from his perspective, it was like watching the last people he trusted walk into the jaws of Hell. She knew he was replaying the moment he took that final shot at his wife, and she felt helpless knowing that she couldn't curb his inner demons.
Despite everything, she had faith that the Ex-First Recon was still set up to cover their return. She could take comfort in knowing that he always had their backs. You all come back, or I'll come get you, he had said gruffly. And shit, she believed him.
With a grim look, she set herself to work on salvaging any equipment the Legionaries left behind. Eventually her gaze trailed to where Arcade sat patching up a shallow gash along Veronica's neck.
The doctor noticed her vacant stare and smiled softly, "Don't worry. It's not as bad as it looks."
"Ah, the wonders of Med-X," Veronica giggled. "I'm in good hands." Arcade rolled his eyes dramatically.
The courier nodded slowly and patted the Brotherhood scribe on the shoulder.
"Anything else, boss?" Raul asked as he self-consciously adjusted the collar of his jumpsuit.
"Yeah, just one," she said as she adjusted the Legion armor she planned to use as an effective disguise. She had chosen carefully, but even the slimmest Legionnaire on the raft had clothing that slightly hung off of her slim frame. She toyed with one of the spikes that marked it as a veteran's uniform. "Lay low and once the gunshots start, I'm gonna need a distraction at the front gate."
Cass cackled as she tossed a stick of dynamite between her hands. She winked, "Expect a big one then."
The courier smirked beneath her mask, "Then let's gets our asses turned back around."
xxxxx
Leading a full-out charge up Fortification Hill to rescue Benny would've been bold. It was the stuff of legends, much like saving the princess—the courier snickered—in the evil bald wizard's castle. It was bold, but it was still suicidal.
Charging from the bottom up with what minimum cover there was would've been a complete tactical disaster. She could almost picture the flying bullets and the soaring spears raining down on them from the top of the hill. It was completely possible to work their way uphill and complete their objective, but there would be plenty of casualties. The thought of Arcade or Raul in a puddle of their own blood made the bile rise in her throat. No one should have to die in such a horrible place.
This was a matter of pride. If anyone should die over something so stupid, it should definitely be her.
Screw the arena, crucifixion, and Caesar. She didn't necessarily like the backstabbing asshole, but dammit, if he was going to die then it was going to be on her terms. After all, she did own him and letting him flee only for her to deal with later seemed like a much better idea. Maybe by then she could actually have a decent conversation with the guy.
For now, she had to concentrate on finding him and ignoring how breezy the leather skirt was. This wasn't the first time she walked up into a Legion camp in disguise with nothing but a small duffle bag. After infiltrating Cottonwood Cove on Lieutenant Asher's behalf, she learned that if she walked with her head held high as if she owned the place, then she was never bothered, never had to say a word. Except that time, she had an ex-NCR sniper watching her every movement through a scope. Beneath it all she was nervous, but not enough to jeopardize the mission.
She had her companions watching over her, but while she was in the highest and innermost part of the camp, they were bunkered down around its outsides. In essence, one loud retort from her pistol would send them running through the front gates, but she wanted them to have as little contact to the enemy as possible. Once she grabbed Benny by the scruff and pumped them both with Stealth Boys, they were gonna book it. Fighting was inevitable but she wouldn't stop running until they hit New Vegas.
Concealed beneath one of her leather bracers, her PipBoy read the time as two in the morning. The camp was nearly deserted at this point, which made it easier to avoid Legionnaires and slaves alike. As she silently weaved through the tents, she could hear the steady breathing and the occasional snoring of those that were asleep. She listened closely across the camp to murmurs from griping guards across the camp about shift changes.
Apparently, Caesar had gotten sick of Benny running his mouth 24/7, so they had him transferred to one of the smaller tents. It would likely be the crack of dawn when they finally had him crucified. It was fitting that the person being crucified witness the break of a new day with his hands and feet nailed to a cross. That way, they could spend their first day baking under the desert sun, blood caking and turning into a crusty brown. Then when night came, the cold would settle into their bones as their life slowly drained away…
She shook her head, refusing to dwell on it any further.
There was only one other tent that seemed to be as heavily guarded as Caesar's. That was there she was headed to.
It was ridiculously easy to approach the guards. Because of its esteemed status, the veteran's armor she bore had received a lot of wary glances from people throughout the Fort. This made her a lot less likely to approach and she found herself okay with that. One nod to the guards and they stiffened, allowing her to enter through the tent flap. She ducked and let the canvas fall closed behind her.
It was a room of small space. Her attention was immediately captured by Benny who, still clad in his checkered suit, sat on his knees in the middle of a reed mat. He was gagged this time and had only grunted indifferently when he noticed her. The only source of light came from the lone candle sitting upon a wooden desk in the far corner of the room. And seated at the desk was one other person who had his back towards her. From the dark outline of his form against the dim light, she could make out the jagged edges of Legionary armor.
She felt for the switchblade she had hidden at the belt of her skirt, certain that she could silently slide it into the base of the other man's neck. She cursed herself. He must've heard the faint rustle of cloth because he turned around and-
Suddenly, Vulpes Inculta was looking over his shoulder at her, eyes glinting inquisitively and short dark hair reflecting the low golden tones of light. She knew the mask and goggles shielded her horrified expression, but couldn't help but think that he'd read right through it. The leader of the Frumentarii set the ink pen in his hand down and pushed a stack of papers to the side of the desk.
Her heart thudded against her chest and the sweat gathered at her brow when he rose slowly from whatever he was working on. He drew himself up to full height and closely studied her masked form before her addressed her, "A few hours ago, I specifically ordered that no one enter this tent unless it was of the utmost importance."
Oh, shit.
His thin eyebrows bunched together as if in thought for a brief moment, "Ah yes, then you must be the one I sent for earlier. I assume you have Lucius' response?"
Oh, shit.
He looked at her expectantly and even Benny seemed to want her to say something, anything that didn't have to do with his imminent death. But she had nothing.
"Wrong answer then." A .44 magnum revolver appeared to materialize in his right hand and before she could move, he had already trained it on the center of her mass. Her muscles seized up and she froze. "Don't move."
He reached forward and wrenched the bag from her shoulder, letting it drop to the ground in a sad heap. The cold metal tip of the pistol brushed the underside of her jaw as he proceeded to pat her down, his one hand running up her sides. He found the slight bulge at her waist and drew the switchblade out of the belt loop. Suddenly she found it hard to breathe when he flipped it in the candlelight, despising the knowing look that crossed his face. His attention returned to her once he set it on the desk.
"Now what's going to happen is that you and I will take an early morning stroll to somewhere more secluded," he said as he sent a distasteful at Benny who was too confused about the current events to notice. "You will go where I tell you to without looking back. You will not run or the consequences will be dire."
She looked around the room for anything that could give her any leverage in this situation, but there was nothing besides a desk and chair. Anything would've been good, anything to avoid being alone with him again. Perhaps she could overpower the Legionary before he got a shot off, but then their scuffle would draw in the guards outside. Soon, there would be a landslide of Legionaries. This situation wasn't looking very good and it wasn't in her agenda to die at the early age of twenty-two.
"Go," he said sharply and motioned with the tip of the gun. "And keep your hands where I can see them."
Hesitantly, she turned around and pushed her way through the tent flap barely noticing that curious glances of the guards as Vulpes followed behind her. She kept her hands at her side and walked forward; she hated herself for every step she took. He was right there. Of all things to happen, Benny was right there and she couldn't do crap, confirming that fate really had it in for her.
She begrudgingly obeyed the commands he gave, instructing her to turn left or right until he ordered her to stop in front of another tent. He raised the tent flap and with a deft shove, he pushed her in.
This tent was just as sparsely furnished and dimly lit as the one Benny was being held in. In the far right side was a medium sized cot that looked like it would give you back problems for the rest of your life. There was an aged desk with a mismatching wooden chair. Something she suspected was made of dog fur sat neatly folded on top of the cot. Vulpes walked around her and set her bag onto the desk. Why he even brought it baffled her.
"Take off your mask," his words were clipped and she knew he meant serious business, but she couldn't will herself to move. The gun clicked threateningly as he brought his thumb down on the hammer. "You would do best to follow my instructions, profligate."
She hooked her fingers at the base of her mask and slowly tugged it away from her face. The goggles came off next. As fresh air filled her nostrils, she felt more naked than she'd ever felt in her life.
The other man sighed, placed the magnum back in its holster, and took the items from her quivering fists, "As I thought."
The courier grit her teeth, "How did you know?"
"A certain phrase only my men or anyone I had been in contact with would've known. When I asked you what Lucius' response was, the answer should've been 'Leave them where they lie,'" he said smugly. "I know you have connections to the Chairman, more than you let Caesar believe. I suspected for you to do something brash from the start."
"What, were you planning to watch him all night?"
"No, I planned to watch until he breathed his last breath," the Frumentari said as he placed her mask and goggles next to the duffle bag. "After all, it's you we're dealing with."
She kept her mouth shut at that, quietly wondering if he was just obsessed.
"Now, what shall I do with you?" he said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. "How will I deal with one who constantly defies Caesar's will?"
"If you would just shoot me in the face and spare me the shame, I'd be honored," the courier bit out, her hands anxiously wringing themselves.
"Then neither of us would get what we want. Perhaps something can be arranged," Vulpes blue eyes flashed and skirted over her hungrily. "Perhaps a little quid pro quo, should I say?"
She felt sick. "Are you propositioning me?"
"It's more than you deserve." A sneering remark, one that made all feeling within her crumble and burn into tiny pieces of ash.
He took her stoic silence as his cue to continue, "However, instead of caps or gold, I'd like to grant you the gift of choice."
"And if I refuse?"
"Either you refuse, and I call upon Caesar to witness the true nature of your intentions, or one night with me and I let you walk."
"That's not much of a choice," she croaked.
"Ah, but think of your companions as well. You can't have returned alone. I'm deducing that they, too, have settled into nearby positions within or outside of the Fort. With one simple order, my men will know what to search for and who to capture." The sadistic grin that stretched his already thin lips gave him a feral look, "Your Benny won't be the only one to be strung up on a cross in the morning."
"What makes you think I'd accept?"
She could only watch as he painstakingly slid the leather gloves off his hands and set them on the wooden table nearby. Her legs felt like jelly as he slowly paced up to her. Once again, his smile failed to reach his blue eyes, "My offer is quite generous, considering what occurred during our last encounter. It's either me, or the entire camp."
A bared hand trailed down her spine as he leaned in close, too close, "Make your choice."
She pursed her lips thoughtfully and met his eyes, "I suppose we do have unfinished business."
His eyes narrowed by a fraction, "Indeed." Oh, he was sore. Definitely sore.
The courier drew in a deep breath to ease her queasy stomach. Another roll in the hay with him and then she could be off on her merry way. Things could be worse.
"Fine," she said stonily, trying to ignore the satisfied look on his face.
"Remove the armor," he demanded. "It's disgraceful to have your kind don it."
She cursed the quaking in her fingers as they unlaced the ties to the armor she wore. The leather bracers fell to her feet first. With slight hesitation, she shucked the leather breastplate over her head and onto the ground. Despite being a couple sizes too large, sweat caused the red tunic she wore beneath the armor to cling to her body in ways she wouldn't have preferred. She felt his eyes rake over her and her fingers started to shake when they started to work on the leather straps that held the leather skirt in check.
She bristled when his hands clamped down on her wrists, slowly bringing them towards him.
"Now remove my armor." The courier tensed up and she saw him raise a curious eyebrow at that. "Is that going to be a problem?"
She flushed furiously and concentrated on the task before her. The trembling of her fingers increased sevenfold as she untangled the laces that held the upper portion of his armor together. She reached for the bands below his underarms, trying desperately to ignore his close proximity and pointed gaze. God-fucking-damn it. It's not like she'd never done this before. Just pretend it's some NCR Ranger you're about to get your metaphorical rocks off with and that he's quite a looker with not too many missing teeth-
He pulled away when the straps came undone and slid the protective leather plating off of himself, revealing a worn red shirt similar to hers. He left her standing awkwardly in the middle of the tent as he almost gently set the armor down on the desk with her small duffle bag. The leather gun holster soon followed. She blinked in confusion as his hand disappeared into one of the drawers.
"Catch."
Something small flew towards her in a swift arc and the way she caught it was anything but graceful. From what she felt, it was curved and had symmetric grooves running down the sides… When she finally registered what the object was, her heart nearly dropped out of her ass and onto the floor.
A standard-issue grenade sat cradled in her palms. With no pin. What the fuck. What the fucking fuck.
Panicking, her fingers immediately clamped down on the safety lever in a death grip, praying to God that the fuse hadn't been lit.
She stammered for a few moments, "I-is this thing live? Are you trying to get us killed?"
Vulpes chuckled at her plight as he left the desk and returned to his place before her, "I thought it was necessary that I raise the stakes. This is Vegas after all." Her eyes widened as his pale fingers casually toyed with the grenade's safety pin. The courier stood dumbfounded for a few moments, watching him make a show of spinning it around once before tucking it away. "For one such as yourself, it's nice to take extra precautions."
Anger welled up and suddenly, death by multiple shards of shrapnel didn't seem too bad, "I could kill us both."
"Yes, I admit that you could," the man waved a chastising finger at her, "But that would be most counter-productive to your plans, don't you think?"
She looked down at the metal object in her hands, enraged that the only means of it not going off was by holding the lever in place. This method effectively disabled one of her hands. And it seemed the only way of getting out of this was through that devilish bastard of a Frumentari.
"I have given you all the power to stop this. But for now, it would be in your best interest to hold that." The smirk made his eyes look sharper, "Now, shall we begin?"
She fought hard not to struggle as he drew her in closer, his hand traveling from the base of her neck to her lower back again. He seized her jaw and tilted her head from side to side, inspecting her face, analyzing every freckle, blemish, and scar on her sun-beaten skin.
"The Wasteland has brought much news of you lately," he said nonchalantly as his hand slipped from her jaw to her shoulder. "Some of it was less than pleasing."
"Oh, do tell," the courier muttered. She wondered if using the grenade to beat his face in would set it off.
He frowned upon her attitude, "Helping those NCR ingrates interrogate a centurion? The monorail? All of our carefully laid plans fell apart and yet Caesar believes that you could still be a valuable asset."
"Do you doubt your leader?"
His hand tightened on her shoulder, "No. But I have long suspected that you would defy us in one way or another."
"What else have you heard?" she asked.
With his free hand, he casually traced a line down the side of her face. "I know enough to say that you've also been spending an increasing amount of time with that First Recon lackey of yours."
"That's none of your business," the words slipped out and her cheeks suddenly felt hotter.
He clucked disapprovingly, "Oh, on the contrary. Your relationship," the snide way he said the word made the anger broil within her, "with him says all there needs to be said about your perception of Caesar's Legion."
"Unlike the Legion, I'm capable of a compassionate mindset," the courier spat. "You can't honestly expect me, of all people, to start tossing flowers at Caesar's feet as he marches on Vegas. Cultural stability aside, I'm still having difficulties finding at least one other redeeming quality of your precious Legion."
His head tilted slightly, "Then why not think of it as receiving the better end of the stick?"
"What? No—" She gave a snort and shook her head, "I'd be getting the short end—hell, not even that. I'd be getting the end that gets beaten by the other end."
"Caesar's rule would cleanse the uncouth nature of the Wasteland. No more Fiends and the abolition of NCR corruption."
"Makes sense, but unity in the Mojave for the price of rape, forced procreation, slavery, and systematic murder? I can't justify it."
His eyes narrowed, "If you had an open mind, then you would know that my Liege and I would reward you fruitfully. There are more benefits than you assume."
"My mind was already made up in Nipton. Absolute authority doesn't sit well with me."
Vulpes let out a shallow laugh, "Surely not that soon. If I'm correct, Nipton would've been your first experience of Caesar's justice."
Her lips curled into a savage snarl and her grip constricted around the grenade, "Before I pulled the trigger to end the misery of the people you crucified, I saw myself reflected in their eyes. I know what it feels to be judge and executioner, top of the world, and honestly, I'm not that impressed. I couldn't bring myself to kill you, but I knew then that you and your blinded recruits would've been a waste of my bullets."
"I'm beginning to wonder if I should've crucified you with the rest of those degenerates."
The courier smirked cockily, "What a coincidence, I was wondering if I should've shot you back at the Lucky 38."
The Frumentari's eyes flared but he said nothing, filling the tent with a pregnant pause. He took this chance to take a slow step closer.
"You are truly determined to oppose us." It was more of a statement than a question.
His harsh gaze bore into her, but she refused to back down. Her silence was the confirmation he sought.
"I know that you're aware of what we do to those who aren't true to Caesar," he said, his mouth settling inches from hers. A feeling of déjà vu washed over her, and she just didn't give a damn anymore. Just get this over with.
"And I also know that every Legionnaire's got Caesar's cock shoved so far down their throats, they can't even have their own say in things," The gleam in her eyes alone sent him a thousand 'fuck you's.
A venomous look crossed his face as he edged back, the only warning to the vicious backhand that suddenly followed. The force of the strike snapped her head to one side and her legs nearly gave way. Lord, it hurt more than just her pride, so she responded to the violence in the only way she knew.
She tackled him. Hard. The sharp bone of her shoulder slammed into his mid-section, knocking the breath from him and sending both of them toppling to the floor. Adrenalin pumped through her veins enough for her clamber on top of the fallen man to straddle him and switch the grenade to one hand. The courier raised her fist and let it fly down towards him. Here's what I think of your face. Where there should've been crunching bone, there was only a weak slap when he caught her hand in his. With an infuriated yowl, she clenched her other hand with the grenade and brought it around like a hammer. He seized her other flailing fist in a cast-iron grip, making an effort to crush the thin bones of her wrist.
She struggled to release her arms from his clutches, but that only brought her closer to him. One sharp squeeze to her wrist reminded her of the pain she was in.
There was a dull crack when her forehead smashed into his, and reality seemed to churn into an agonizing whirl. Her head pounded, cheek stung, and her vision swam like a bad hit of psycho, but it was all worth seeing Vulpes reel back in pain. The moment his grip on her wrists faltered, and despite the haze and close proximity, she made to strike at him with her elbow.
He averted the awkward blow with little difficulty, utilized the momentum to reverse their positions, and asserted dominance over her with his weight, her legs pinned to either side of him. They were left face-to-face once again, breathing heavily. Each breath of air he took painfully pressed his chest against her ribcage. Cold fury on the hot embers of hatred. There was the making of a red welt on the pale skin of his forehead and she was sure her cheek was in the same condition.
She spoke slowly through sharp pants and tiredly signed her death warrant, "I wonder what tribe the Legion took you from... I wonder what they stripped you of, what kind of change they forced you to make to become the man you are…"
The expression on his face was sour and he pinned both of her wrists, along with the armed explosive, above her head with one hand. He had slipped. He could see where Silus failed, and as much as he wanted to crush her into a tiny pulp, he refused to cave in any further.
"This doesn't concern the Legion anymore."
A sharp tug of her hair exposed the soft skin of her neck and he bit the tender flesh with sharp teeth, marking her, claiming her. Her eyes snapped shut when his lips slowly trailed up her jaw. She felt a brush of warmth from his slightly open mouth and then the slightest scraping of stubble along her tender cheek.
The smell of sweat and the deep musk she could only pin as Vulpes pervaded her nostrils. He was…he was nuzzling her.
As knowledgeable as Vulpes made himself out to be, the courier pondered whether or not this man knew how to properly show affection. She almost snickered at the trailing thought of Legionnaires trying the so-called traditional methods of courting she remembered seeing in holotapes. Sending bouquets of flowers, date nights out to drive-in movies, throwing rocks at their love interest's windowsill in the middle of the night—it was all so ludicrous.
"I fail to see the humor in this situation." The sound of his light voice caused her private smile to wilt and ears grow hotter.
A gasp of surprise tore its way out of her throat when she felt the icy tips of his fingers harshly brush up her thighs and stop at the garter of her panties. She tried to edge away, but her movements only served to hike the leather skirt up to even more embarrassing heights. The sound of his cruel chuckle made it feel like her innards were exposed and dipped in Cazador venom.
The irony of him having his way with her while she was dressed as a Legionnaire was impossible to escape. She should've felt ashamed, but with chin raised, she refused to look away. His breath caught. The intensity of her eyes as they bore into his made him quiver with excitement.
Despite the awkward angle, his calloused hand wasted no time in pushing its way under the fabric of her underwear. There, his cool fingers stroked her core, and with mild surprise he found them coming away hot and moist. The sharp intake of his breath was soft in her ear and his need pressed into her thigh when she squirmed beneath him. As his hand left her, she was sure her face couldn't get any more beet-red than it already was. Damn her body's betrayal, but she was tired, so very tired.
Her arms, still trapped by his hand and cut off from the flow of blood, had gone lax. He released her only to cut straight to relieving her of her panties. With no resistance, he forcibly tugged them down her hips and off of her legs. With the slight clinking of metal, the buckle to his skirt was loosened enough to free his aching shaft from its straining confines. He then leaned into her, hands planting themselves at her waist. Oh, not this again…
She was given no time to brace herself as his throbbing head pressed into the entrance of her sex. The courier's mouth clamped shut on her groan as he pushed past her lips and roughly buried the rest of his length in her. The way he filled her almost felt like being suffocated. They stayed like that for a few moments, him reveling in the luscious sensation of her while she arched beneath him, willing herself to get used to the pinch of pain. She felt her body go limp as he began to set the pace, vaguely aware that they were still clothed and that her shirt had started to ride up. She was startled when he took this opportunity to snake one of his hands under both her tunic and bra to cup the curve of her breast. He smiled when the pad of his thumb circled one hardened nipple.
His smirking mouth hovered above hers and her lips nearly brushed his to the timing of their rhythm.
It was too much. Weakly, she turned away, trying to concentrate on anything else but the rocking of their bodies and the sound of their heavy breathing. The flickering of the candlelight caused the shadows of their messy limbs to weave chaotic patterns across the tent canvas. For a second, she thought she saw multiple arms and was reminded of some female deity the people of the past used to worship.
Somehow, her boots were off, when they were removed she didn't know. And his hands were gripping her thighs as he continued to thrust into her, their skirts bunching up between them. Her gasps sounded distant and drowned out to the point where she wasn't even sure if they belonged to her. Soon, the only sound was the blood pulsing in her ears. She could barely register herself holding onto the grenade. Her fingers felt detached, like they weren't even a part of her anymore, she could just let go. It would be so easy…
Vulpes was driving into her with more vigor, her rear chafing against the ground and his grunts becoming more animalistic. As he was poised on the brink of release, his gaze turned cloudy, fixing on something beyond their current plane of existence. He shuddered once, liquid heat spilling into her as he drew his climax out with a few deep strokes. Soon, everything came to a stop. They lay against each other for a few moments, panting, his forehead leaning against hers. His fingers entangled themselves in her hair as he gathered her close. The way she was cradled in his arms felt like a hollow parody of something that was supposed to be heart-felt and the bitterness of the gesture made her eyes sting.
When he pulled away from her at last, she let out a breath of relief. He rose slowly and straightened his leather skirt, leaving the courier to prop herself up on uncertain elbows. Karma was a gigantic bitch, but it was over. The room seemed to spin as she finally sat up.
While she was dazed, his large hand reached down and picked the explosive from her numb fingers. She watched in open-mouthed terror as he casually tossed it over his shoulder. The grenade clattered and rolled to a stop at the base of the desk. For what seemed like a full minute later, it remained unanimated and seemed determined to stay that way.
Infuriated, she motioned to the round object with shaking hands, "Y-you—"
"It's a dud, always has been," came his stark answer. Her duffle bag clunked into her open hands and she got the idea.
They dressed in silence, both sitting on the edge of the cot while they strapped their armor in place, at least two feet between each other. The courier reached inside her cloth bag and drew out the battered gun she had managed to sneak by the guards, its nicks and various dents glinting even in the poor lighting. The Frumentari had finished and without even acknowledging her, made his way towards the exit of the tent.
The old Ranger Sequoia was warm in her hand. She could feel the worn, snaking ridges along the dark wood against her palm. It reminded her of the maps she used to trace along her father's hands, except this time she knew where the roads on this gun led. Her grip tightened on the trigger. "My plan hasn't changed. Benny leaves with me."
The meaning of the look Vulpes cast over his shoulder drove home. Give it your best shot.
The courier grinned fiercely as his form retreated through the tent flap, leaving her alone with what few belongings she had.
She would certainly take him up on that.
Fin.