Chapter 3: The Pincer

There was a momentary pause between them. The Legionnaires were not expecting him up there and he was just as stunned as they were. Only the wind broke the silence, a soft breath that stirred the Mojave.

Without thinking, Six dropped to the ground and attempted to scramble down the hill. Shots rang out behind him as the Legionnaires attempted to catch him in the back. The momentum of running downhill carried him faster than he would have liked resulting in tripping and falling, his rifle flying from his grip.

Hands scraping across the dirty ground, cutting open, he swore explosively. Seeing a boulder nearby, he darted for cover behind it and made himself as small as possible. The zing and pop of ricocheting rounds was nearly deafening in his ears as the Legion soldiers continue to pour fire onto his position.

"LEGION!" could be heard down the hill and NCR small arms fire roared in response.

Heavy breathing and sweating had fogged his goggles terribly. Pulling them down over his kerchief, he found his glasses in his front vest pocket, oddly undamaged. Down the hill he could now see Susan taking aim with great care, and then releasing a round. She must have hit something because as soon as she lowered her rifle, she screamed at him.

"Six! Come on, we'll cover you!" Nodding, he searched for where his rifle had landed and spotted it at the base of the hill. Taking in short, shallow breaths, he prepared himself to jump out of cover and race down the hill.

This was the hardest part of a soldier's job, running from cover. You always have a chance of getting shot. Always. But the chance increases exponentially when there isn't something in the bullet's path.

Ducking his head down and praying for a burst of speed, Six shot out from behind the rock towards his companions. Bullets in hot pursuit, he skid to a halt to scoop up his firearm, and then dove next to Susan.

Chancing a look around the side of the rock, he saw that there were several more Legionnaires on the crest of the hill now. The fact that they were sporting guns meant that they weren't new recruits, but seasoned veterans. The NCR soldiers were holding their own, and no one had fallen, but it was a standoff.

Soldiers aiming upwards always aimed a little high of their target. Thankfully, the Legion would have the sun in their eyes, but that meant that both groups were handicapped.

The odds were that the Legion would run out of bullets before the NCR did. So why weren't they fighting harder? It seemed as if they were just taking pot-shots and keeping the soldiers in cover, not aiming to kill.

Claire had moved beside him and Susan ran to meet with her spotter. Her shoulder touching his, she nudged him,

"Did you get a good look of how many there were?" Six shook his head, after taking a glance through his scope. "Damn."

Claire glanced down the line of soldiers and saw that they were all shooting, and that the lieutenant was giving orders, but no one seemed to be gaining headway in the battle.

"Why isn't anyone hitting anything?" she wondered aloud.

"Well, you know what they say, Claire." Locking a round into the chamber of his rifle, Six aimed down his scope. "You want something done right, you do it yourself."

Taking a breath, he held it and steadied himself. He was using the ground to steady himself, but lying prone and aiming up was difficult. He hoped that he would actually make the shot, but he was unsure if he really would.

Then he saw a flash.

To the left of the Legionnaire that he was aiming for, one of them was lying flat on the hill and winking a mirror. Not at him, but somewhere behind him.

Exhaling heavily, the dust in front of him flying off in a cloud, he rolled onto his back. Looking over his chest, he froze in shock.

Across the bank, there were at least three rafts of Legionnaires preparing to cross the river. Claire turned with him and he could hear her gasp softly. They were being flanked. Flanked very artfully and cleverly. Now the lights in the dark made sense to him.

Throwing herself onto her stomach, Claire locked a round and fired at one of the rafts. Six cupped his hands and shouted to the soldiers around him,

"TURN AROUND! RAFTS! RAFTS!" Some heard him and began fire at the makeshift watercraft. Others kept up their slow-dance with the Legionnaires on the hill. Facing forward, confident Claire had the rear and rafts handled, he attempted to even the odds by eliminating the group giving the orders above them.

Raz hadn't heard the shout warning the rest of the soldiers about the rafts until they were halfway across the river. Swearing to himself he looked up and down his line at who would be the best to handle the forces that came up the beach.

Around him were mainly squads armed with basic rifles, but there were a couple with shotguns and smaller firearms that were more suited to close-quarters-combat.

Fixing a drum to his shotgun, he locked a shell into the chamber and began to decide who would be the best runner to relay his orders outside of his immediate shouting range. The gunfire was making it hard to communicate with everyone, and he'd need someone to run up and down the line to ensure that everyone was on the same page.

"Olsen!" A fresh-faced soldier looked up from behind a large rock and nodded to him. "Olsen, I want you to go to Walsh's squad, White's and Dobbs'. Tell them that they're to focus on the soldiers coming across the river." Olsen nodded and looked over the rock to see if it was safe to run out behind cover.

After a moment, the man bolted from cover and began to relay Raz's orders to the other squad leaders. In the meantime, Raz had to see what the situation was above them with the Legion veterans who were keeping them well occupied.

The biggest problem was that should close fighting break out, the men on the hill could easily begin picking off those who were no longer in cover. Of course, they would have to be careful not to hit their own men, but it was doubtful they would care as much as the NCR might in that situation.

Raz could now see the squads he had chosen turning and firing on the rafts that were nearly at the shore. Several Legionnaires had been hit and were floating lazily in the river, while the rest were paddling furiously to get to land and rush the soldiers.

Thankfully, the Rangers had decided to split themselves and fire on both groups. Their presence alone had taken four of the Legionnaires on the hill and multiple targets on the rafts.

The group that was coming at them had to be at least forty strong, definitely more than they could handle in a hand-to-hand fight with those people on the hill shooting. He had no choice though, he had to give the order to rush them to at least over-power them while they were on the beach and trying to move through the water.

Caesar's Legion armor was heavy, and a little cumbersome if Raz could speculate. Made from what appeared to be old football gear, he could imagine that it didn't offer a lot of movement but gave good protection. What's more, the Legion initiates and grunt soldiers were mainly melee fighters. Judging by the weapons the men on the raft carried, they weren't anything but grunts.

That would give the NCR an advantage, but as soon as the Legion closed the distance between them, it would be down and dirty and hard to gauge who would come out on top.

The first raft slowed to a weak stop as the soldiers began to leap from it. Waist-deep in water, they trudged and wrestled with the liquid to gain purchase and footing on the wet floor of the beach. Rifles began to patter around him as rounds buried themselves in those Legionnaires unlucky enough to be the first ones off the raft.

Raz smiled as his squads nearly decimated the contingent that rode on the first raft. Unfortunately, their fire shifted as the other two rafts made landfall and Legion began to spill forth. Those that survived the first landing were now pushing onto land and bellowing war-cries.

"For Caesar!" they shouted. Raz put himself into a crouching position and readied himself.

"Alright! Squad, on me! Let's push these bastards back across the river." The men and women around him readied themselves into similar stances. Charging forward, he let loose a yell that signaled all the other squads to follow his lead.

The two-headed bear of the NCR was about to do battle with the bull of Caesar's Legion.

"How are we doing back there?" Six fired off another round that shot an explosion of dust plumed at the top of the hill in front of a Legionnaire's face. Several seconds passed before he heard a rifle shot behind him and Claire responded.

"As well as can be expected. We've hit a few but they're on the beach now. I think you're going to be handling the front on your own in a couple seconds." Six chanced a look behind him to see that the Legion had indeed engaged the NCR forces on the beach.

"You be careful. I can't fight this whole battle myself, you know." Claire laughed and let another round fly before leaping to her feet and rushing forward. Six glanced back once more to see her jam the butt of her rifle into a Legionnaire's face before slamming it down again several times to crack his skull while he writhed on the ground.

Returning his attention to the front, Six realized that the troops on the hill were no longer there. Turning to his left he shouted at one of the squads that hadn't immediately engaged the Legionnaires on the beach.

"Hey!" A woman turned at the sound of his voice and raised her eyebrows in response. Her squad was aiming at the Legion soldiers on the beach carefully, but none of them seemed to be firing any rounds into the crowd for fear of hitting their comrades.

"Hey, what happened to them?" Six pointed up the hill. The woman turned to look, then shrugged at him.

"I dunno! They stopped firing just a moment ago-" before she could say anything more, a bullet ripped through her neck and she fell to her side. Clutching her throat and gasping, she reached for a nearby soldier to help her.

Six turned to the hill just in time to see that the Legionnaires who had previously been using it as a form of cover were now barreling straight towards him and the NCR troopers. There had to be over fifteen of them left, which meant that there were far more than Six had anticipated, and also explained how they had kept up the suppressing fire for so long.

While the NCR outnumbered them, the bulk of their force was otherwise occupied with the Legionnaires on the beaches. Six knew that this fact alone would make these veterans tough to take down, especially with their firearms and close-quarters experience.

Resigning himself to the inevitable, he leapt to his feet and charged forward with his rifle butt at the ready. Others around him had the same idea and joined the fray. In a clash of grunts, smacks and screams, the soldiers met each other midway from where Six had taken cover and the base of the hill.

It was not a pretty fight. Dirt was thrown in eyes, men were kicked between their legs and women had their hair pulled back while their throats were cut. The Legion meant business, but so did the NCR.

Kicking a man in his knee-cap, he drove the stock of his rifle down onto his helmet; a resounding crack greeted his action. While the man fell back, clutching his head, Six brought his rifle down on his throat, crushing the man's windpipe and killing him instantly.

It wasn't until he had pulled back for another swing with his gun that he realized the stock was now broken. Tossing his beloved firearm to the side, he unsheathed a combat knife from the side of his boot and looked for a new target.

Behind him came the growl of a Legionnaire who had snuck up on him. Whirling about, he saw the man plowing into his waist and knocking him to the dirt and gravel. The rocks stung his back and skidding on the hard earth cut him open in several places through his shirt.

Either the Legionnaire had lost his weapon or he had decided that he didn't need it; whatever the reason was, he held a large rock above his head and prepared to smash Six's head open across the Mojave.

Attempting to stab the man in the chest, Six realized his knife had flown from his grip, so instead, he took a swipe at the man's face. It worked well enough to destabilize his attacker enough so that he could roll and look for his knife.

It lay a few feet away from him, just out of reach. As he attempted to crawl over, the Legionnaire gripped his legs and pulled him back, now trying to strangle the life out of him. The man's hands were tight around Six's throat and he could see little spots of black popping into his field of vision as he gasped for air.

While one hand attempted to pry his attacker's hands off his neck, his other wildly flailed for the knife that he had felt momentarily. As his hand came down once more, he could feel the hilt of the blade and gripped it firmly. The Legionnaire must have seen this because one of his hands flew to Six's wrist to stop it from driving the serrated blade deep into his chest.

There they lay, struggling and trying to gain a foothold over the other, each one wanting to end the other's life with all of their might.

Leveling his shotgun in front of him and taking a few steps to stop himself, Raz let a shell full of buck-shot fly into a knife-wielding Legionnaire dumb enough to run with his weapon held over his head.

It was like he had been hit in the chest by a giant as his forward momentum ceased and he fell flat onto his back. Raz wasn't sure that the armor on the Legionnaire's chest had protected him enough to keep him alive, but he wasn't going to stick around and find out.

Picking another Legionnaire out of the crowd, he pulled the trigger again and this time the buckshot zoomed toward the man's stomach like a pack of angry hornets. He could see the spray of blood bloom out of the wound and the man's screams rose above the din of combat.

Around him, other NCR soldiers were firing off quick shots to Legionnaires who got too close for comfort. However, because they were distracted by who they were shooting at, they forgot the look around them and many of his troops were mobbed by two or three foes from the side or behind.

Raz saw several of his company struck from behind with lead pipes or stabbed numerous times in the back by vicious Legion soldiers.

It went on like this for several minutes. It was only until he realized that the Legionnaires were attacking single soldiers in groups that he saw they were losing ground and being pushed back to the hill. It was even later that he realized the sound of Ranger rifles had died and that they were no longer supplying support.

Dodging a wild swing from a Legionnaire, Raz stepped back and put a shell into the man's knee-cap. Bone and gore flew from the leg and the man clutched the wound as he howled wildly.

Eyes scanning the battlefield, Raz saw that the Rangers had problems of their own.

For whatever reason, the Legion veterans had charged down the hill towards the NCR and engaged the remaining troops. While there weren't very many of them, there were still enough of them to cause problems. With the addition of the grunts, it was definitely chaos.

The Ranger with the kerchief and sunglasses was wrestling with a Legionnaire who had him pinned down on his back. The Ranger's knife was gripped in his left hand while the Legionnaire was pushing his whole weight down to prevent him from driving it up into his body. Next to him a female Ranger was parrying thrusts of blades at her with a rifle.

While focusing on the opponent in front of her she missed a stab from the side, and the machete ran through her stomach and came out her back. The Ranger on the ground bellowed in rage, flipping the Legionnaire on top of him over his head. Scrambling furiously, he drove the knife into the man's chest several times, the blade breaking off in the armor, before leaping to his feet.

It was a futile effort as a grunt sprinted up behind him and swung at his head, killing or incapacitating the Ranger with a wooden baton.

Raz was shocked out of his spectating by a grunt swiping at his arm, which made him stagger back from the force of the blow. The recruit wasn't very good with the pipe, which explained why he hadn't broken Raz's limb, but make it ache horribly.

Ducking under another wild swipe, he shoved his shotgun into the man's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As the Legionnaire doubled-over in pain, Raz straightened and let a shotgun shell blast into the man's helmet, making a crater out of the top of the head-piece. Inside he could see the man's skull pulp and squish into its container from the force of the blast.

As the Legionnaire fell, a body behind him was revealed before Raz's eyes. Sergeant White lay on the ground, blood oozing from his mouth and his eyes glazed over. Raz buried a round into a Legionnaire standing over him and went to check on his fallen friend. He was definitely dead as he felt for a pulse. There appeared to be some sort of stab-wound in his chest.

From where he was, he could see that the Veterans' influence on the battle was much more impactful than he realized. Either by overwhelming them or sheer determination, the Legion forces had corralled the NCR into a circle and were picking them off one-by-one.

Jogging to the middle of his troops, Raz tried to embolden them with words of encouragement.

"Steady, Alpha. Keep tight and stay calm!" The Legionnaires around them chuckled as some made threatening gestures and spat at the ground.

"You won't be so cavalier with a slave collar around your neck, soldier-boy." One of the NCR troopers had had enough and charged forward, only to be tackled by two Legionnaires who beat him to death with a pipe and bat. Several Raz's men averted their eyes and one of them swore explosively.

"If you surrender now, we'll take you as slaves and none of you will be harmed." A Legion veteran stepped forward and seemed to be addressing Raz more than anyone. "You've fought valiantly, and you are to be commended for such an effort. But it was futile, nevertheless." He could see that outside of the circle there were several Legionnaires field-stripping dead-bodies and tying up the wounded NCR that still lived.

"Like hell. You Legion dogs make the same promises. Ones you can't keep." Raz spat on the ground and stood proud among those still standing of Alpha Company, all eleven of them left in the circle. His words put some lead in their spines and they all seemed to get their nerve back.

"So be it," whispered the same Veteran. As if on cue, the entire force descended upon them. Raz was struck from behind and pinned there. His head smacked against the ground and the world became fuzzy and muffled. Raising his head, he could see the Legion killing and capturing the rest of his company.

Before he could cry out in anger, his mouth not responding to his brain's dull commands, the world went black, and he knew nothing more.