"Patrolling the Mojave makes you wish for a nuclear winter."

That was the line you heard often among the troops of the NCR. Be they trooper, ranger, or even a veteran. That one line was a universal truth among all stationed in the Mojave.

Though universal truth or not, it didn't stop the amused snort coming from Ranger Alexandra Cortez.

"What?" her friend and partner, Ranger Jory asked indignantly.

"Nothing," she drawled. "Just that you said the same exact line five minutes ago."

Jory crossed his arms with a huff. "Can you blame me, Alex? Feels like I'm boiling alive in this armor."

"You and the thousand of other men and women here." Alex tugged at her own patrol armor. She could swear she sweated through every last piece of clothing she had over just the last week. "Can't wait for our leave. I'm hitting the Strip, if only because they have working air conditioning."

"Try Ultra-Luxe. Heard they got a giant pool in there." Jory took on a whimsical look. "Me, I'm headed to Gomorrah."

"Ew, Jory - I don't want to hear about your latest bang. You're like a brother to me, so that just makes it even more awkward."

"Ha ha. I'd believe you if weren't smiling like the devil." Alex dodged the hand swatted at her and chuckled playfully. Jory shook his head while tutting his lips. "As I was saying, I found a nice guy there. Skin smoother than a babe's rump, and gives the best massages I've ever had! Worth every dollar!"

"That right?" Her eyes took on a teasing glint. She licked her lips sensuously. "Maybe I should come by and ask for one of these 'massages'. Got a few knots I'd like worked out."

"Do it, and I'll pop a .45-70 in you myself," Jory threatened jokingly, "but no really, he does give the best massages! Both types." He added at the end before Alex could ask. "Ah, we're here. Come on, let's report to the Chief."

The two pushed themselves into Chief Hanlon's office. A small room with little more than a filling cabinet pushed against one wall and a desk. Behind the desk sat Chief Hanlon, head and de facto leader of the NCR Rangers. Unlike the armored forms of Alex and Jory, Chief Hanlon was wearing more casual clothing. A sheriff vest and badge over a green, button-up shirt. A red bandana hung loosely around his neck. Hair and beard greyed by age and stress. He looked up from the papers - no doubt messages and reports from the various Ranger Stations in the wasteland - strewn across his desk messily.

"Thank you for coming, Alex. Jory," Chief Hanlon greeted with a smile to the saluting soldiers. He gestured towards the two chairs before him. "Please, take a seat."

"Sir," they both responded promptly and sat at ease.

"Now then, what do you have to report?"

"We've personally made a trip out to Camp Forlorn Hope." Alex started, recounting the details as best she could. "They're running low on everything. Men, equipment, and supplies. Legion is dug in deep at Nelson. All the citizens there are gone. Witnesses say they saw dark smoke and the smell of burning flesh on the wind."

"Those savages... Was there anything else?"

Jory continued the report. "Legion laid some of our boys with their legs chopped off out between Forlorn and Nelson. Can't go get them back either because they set mines beneath the bodies, so we're just forced to watch them die slowly out there. Best we could do was put one between the eyes for them..."

"I see." Chief Hanlon looked all his years and more at the news. In all his forty years of service, one had to wonder how much hardship he's faced before becoming Chief. "We can't do anything for Camp Forlorn. Supplies are scarce as is, and the higher ups want everyone to hunker down for the second battle of the dam. Damn bureaucrats. Throwing away all these men and women for a cause beyond their home..."

The duo remained silent in the rare outburst of anger from the Chief. They could well sympathize. Too many lives have been casted aside on this campaign against the Legion. Those damned red skirts. However, they were just soldiers and whether they liked it or not, they were to follow their orders. Best they could hope for was that it'd end soon with them alive and well.

"My apologies," Chief Hanlon sighed. "Thank you for the report, rangers."

"Just doing our duty, sir," Alex replied.

"That you are. Now, I know you're supposed to go on leave after this, but I want you to do another job." Jory groaned silently, but sat up and listen. "I need you two to take a look up at Camp Guardian. It's gone dark, and I'm not willing to rule it out as a Legion strike. If it is Legion, we'll be fighting battles on three fronts, and we already had a hard enough time with one."

"We can do that, sir, but why us?" Alex asked. "Surely there is someone for this task."

"As I've said, the higher ups ordered us to dig our heels in. It'll take too much time to authorize a team to move out, and none of the other rangers are expected back for days." The man ran his weathered hands down his wrinkled face. "I know it's a lot to ask when you just got back, but this is important. I'll compensate you both accordingly and give you an extension for your leave."

The two rangers looked at each other. An invisible conversation happened between the two for a minute or so. In the end, Alex shrugged her shoulders and Jory released a tired sigh. Afterwards, they both nodded to Chief Hanlon.


"I swear, if this is just a case of some idiot spilling some sunset sarsaparilla on the radio, I'm going to rip them a new one."

"Quit grumbling, Jory. Besides, if that did happen, you'd have to beat me to the punch."

The two had left Camp Golf hours ago in the afternoon and it still didn't feel like they were any closer to Camp Guardian. The sun hung lazily in the sky, just above the horizon. Heat bared down on them without mercy; their vision blurring at the edges as sweat fell into their eyes. All around them was an endless monogamy of dust which was only broken up by the spiny ferns dotting the land. Every once in a while they'd spot a gecko pack or two. They ran off quickly after when Jory fired a warning shot at them.

With how hot it was, it was hard to imagine that after the sun went down the Mojave wasteland would become a freezing hellscape with just as many vermin and critters running around. Well, if they hadn't experienced it firsthand weeks earlier when they first arrived to the desert.

"Should find somewhere to hole up for the night," Alex commented as she scanned their surroundings. "Much as I'd love to not be sweating my ass off anymore, freezing it off doesn't sound any more appealing."

"Same here. Hey, hold up a sec!" Jory gestured for the two to get down.

Instinctual trust honed by working together for years had Alex follow Jory to the ground. Slowly, they inched their ways up to peer over the crest of a dune hill. There, down below at the base maybe a hundred meters away was a group of familiar men. Not familiar in the way that they knew who they were, but familiar in the way they were dressed. The hodgepodge of sports equipment and leathers from head to toe. Machetes and javelins bloodied and held at the ready. Legionaries.

"Shit," Alex cursed under her breathe, "hell they doing up here?"

"Raiding by the looks of it." True to his word, there was a pack brahmin and several corpses just a small distance away. The bodies were mutilated in obvious Legion fashion - long and brutal wounds from blades. "Bastards."

Alex agreed. Slowly, she brought around her repeater rifle as Jory did the same. However they didn't fire upon the savages. Though they could easily kill the half-a-dozen before them with their firearms, there were likely more of them skulking about somewhere nearby. After all, it would have been impossible for just these recruits to easily attack and defeat an armed caravan without any sign of casualty among their own numbers. Most likely there had to be a prime legionary or two around. Perhaps even a veteran.

"We can't just leave them be," Jory whispered harshly. "If Camp Guardian really has been hit, then those Legion bastards will have a foothold north of us!"

"Yeah, I got the same run down from the Chief," Alex whispered back as quietly as she could. "We need to report back to Hanlon asap."

"You aren't going anywhere, NCR dogs," a venomous voice spat behind them.

Alex tried to turn around, only to have her head shoved back down into the dirt. Her rifle was wrenched from her hands, and the stained edge of a machete tickled her throat. Standing above her was a legionary. Metal plates strapped to their shins and shoulders denoted their rank. Furthermore, a helmet adorned with feathers was strapped upon their head was even more telling. A veteran decanus.

"Shit," Alex swore again.

"Wasn't expecting to run into NCR dogs up here," the decanus spoke, his voice muffled by the red cloth covering his mouth. Alex could feel their eyes roving down her form from beneath their goggles. "Much less one of their pathetic women."

"What do we do with them?" another legionary asked. Also a veteran by their armor.

"We'll take them back to the Fort. Let the NCR see their oh so proud soldiers beaten and defeated at the dam." The group around them laughed at the idea. Another half-a-dozen voices if Alex's ears heard right.

Gritting her teeth, she worked the hidden weapon inside the bracer of her armor. "That right?" she taunted. "Who was it that lost at the Battle of Hoover Dam? Oh right, it was you!"

"Quiet!" the decanus shouted angrily. He pushed her head harder into the dirt. "Women should learn to hold their tongue. A lesson you profligates ought to learn... It'd be a shame to harm your disgusting face, and make you even more unbearable to look at."

"Screw you." She drew the knife hidden in her bracer and drove it into the decanus' side. Quickly, she twisted her body around and kicked him away before drawing her revolver and firing a shot into the head of the legionary holding down Jory. "Run! Go tell Hanlon! Go!" she cried as she fired off another shot at their attackers.

Jory quickly took to his feet and bolted away in the direction of Camp Golf. Over the gunfire, Alex heard him shout that he'd come back for her. Javelins and throwing hatchets rained down around Jory, one nicking him in the shoulder, before two of the legionaries gave chase. Meanwhile, Alex fought tooth and nail with the group that remained.

Her revolver was quickly slapped out of her hand, sending a shot up and away. A machete slammed down and would have cleaved her in two if she didn't dodge to the side. She wrapped her arms around the man's forearm and forced it down to disarm him. Before the machete could fall to the ground, she kicked it up into her hands and slashed at the neck of another legionary. They fell back with a choked gurgle. Alex parried a blow off her left flank, but another broke through her right and scored a cut along her thigh. She backhanded away the legionary, wincing at the rattling pain of the hand, and hacked her machete into their leg. She was forced to release the weapon as it got stuck halfway through the thigh. Another blade flew at her neck. She ducked beneath it and swept the attacker's legs from under them. A hatchet grazed her forehead, spilling blood down and over her eyes. All she saw was red.

By now the six recruits she and Jory had saw before had joined the fray. Outnumbered nine-to-one, stalling was all she could do. Whenever she blocked or parried an attack, another came from a different angle and drew blood. Whenever she went in for a kill, she was forced to back down lest she take a fatal wound in the process. So thus the fight was for what felt like hours, but what was most likely a minute at best.

It ended with her forced to her knees, exhausted and bleeding from numerous cuts and scratches upon her body. Her arms were held apart in iron grips between two veteran legionaries. Neither were much better off than Alex; one missing an eye now and another with a nasty cut along one arm. The decanus approached Alex. The only visible injury from the fight being how he held onto his side. Red stained the armor and cloth around it.

"You dirty, NCR, profligate dog!" he roared with the anger of storms. "You'll pay for that. You'll be screaming! You'd be wishing I just crucified you."

Alex spat a wad of blood onto the man's goggles. "Try me," she sneered defiantly.

The decanus shook like a volcano. Without warning, he gripped Alex by her chestnut hair and drove a fist into their cheek. Then a second. Then a third. Alex's brain rattled with each punch. She felt her consciousness fade with each strike. Only after maybe six or so hits did the Legion savage stop. Alex's head spun as the side of her face swelled and bruised. Blood dribbled down her chin and onto the ground below.

"Get this vermin out of my sight!" the decanus ordered vehemently. "Drag her to the Fort! She will be made an example of to those who would disrespect us..."

With that, the last shreds of Alex's consciousness escaped her. Her world was consumed by darkness as she was dragged away to the belly of the beast...