-June, 2284-

Otho's eyes strained to see in the underlit warehouse. Dead Sea didn't have much as far as a secret base went. The rusted walls were only held up with a few wooden planks nailed to them. The building creaked around him, which he was not comfortable about. Otho thought he was the only other one in there, but then he noticed someone else standing near the front entrance. The young man who was at Otho's door earlier.

"Great." Otho sighed and pushed his glasses up. "At least we got one of the recruits."

Dead Sea shook his head. "Not a recruit. He's just some Legion sympathizer who wanted to join the cause."

Otho glanced back at the man. He was pale, his clothing and hair was obviously untouched by the rest of the wasteland. At first Otho suspected he would have been an ideal recruit, but it looked like he wouldn't have lasted a day in the desert.

The former decanus paced around the room for a moment before stopping in front of Otho. He crossed his steel arm over his real one and stared at him critically.

"I hope you're not coming back just because you had one bad date."

Otho's hands clenched into fists inside of his pockets and he looked away from Dead Sea.

"I was a glorified prisoner. The NCR promised me a life after the war, but what they gave me wasn't a life. It was just three years of being taught to be ashamed of my accomplishments." He pushed his glasses up. "I want to go back to feeling proud of myself. My time in the Legion was the only thing of value I ever did."

Dead Sea locked eyes with him for a moment before returning to the center of the room.

"I had some time to scout the area of the town. At night, I found there are less troops patrolling near the north." He linked his arms behind his back. "Our only goal is to get out of this town. We need to leave at once. There isn't much time."

The not-recruit turned to leave the warehouse and Otho went to follow him, but Dead Sea stopped him before he could get one foot out the door.

"And if this is a setup…" Dead Sea's steel arm reached out and seized him by the collar. "Your precious Republic is going to have a difficult time piecing you back together."

Otho managed to maintain eye contact with him. "I will do whatever it takes to resurrect Caesar's vision."

Dead Sea held his gaze for a solid minute, then let go of his shirt.

"One weak link can destroy an entire army. Do not let your cowardice get in the way of your ability to fight." He turned around, stepping away from Otho. "We cannot lose."

-February, 2277-

"We cannot lose."

Otho stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a formation of hundreds of Legion soldiers. Their centurion paced in front of them, the last days of battle were weighing heavily on his posture. When the Legion first prepared to face the NCR at the dam, the phrase "we cannot lose" was an inspiring one. As the threat of defeat drew nearer and nearer, the phrase transformed from inspiring to desperate.

"Seizing Hoover Dam will be the greatest thing any of you ever accomplish!" The centurion's barking continued. "Everything you've ever done has been leading up to this moment!"

Otho could feel the other men shifting around him. He just stood in a stunned silence.

"You are here to fight." The centurion stopped pacing for a moment. "If you do not fight, you are a waste to me, to the Legion, and the Mighty Caesar Himself."

Otho didn't fight. He never got the chance. It felt like the Legion was forced to retreat faster than he could get his rifle out.

They never gave him all the details. He knew that they lost too many soldiers to successfully take the dam. Later, he knew that their failure was caused by the Malpais Legate.

Otho was promoted just before he saw the Legate's execution as a sort of sick irony. His forearm stung from the new tattoo, his veteran armor felt odd and bulky, but all feeling evaporated from him when he saw the Malpais Legate in chains being coated in pitch. The Legate was tough. He had to be. But the screams Otho heard felt more real than anything he witnessed on the battlefield.

A crowd was starting to gather around the brim of the Grand Canyon. Otho swore he heard a legionary gasp when Caesar lit a torch. The Legate went up in flames easily and he was tossed over the edge. The screaming died down a long time ago. Otho couldn't see Caesar's face, but that moment changed the way he looked at him. Caesar was no longer the man who saved him from his previous barbaric ways, he was a ruthless commander who only expected perfection from his armies. Otho grew more respect for him in that sense.

Otho continued to sit near the edge of the canyon long into the night. His tribe had stories about people fighting back against their own deaths. He remembered his mother would tell him stories about the Fire Walker, a man who set himself on fire and walked out into the desert in the hopes of finding paradise. Legend was that he could only remain alive if he kept focused on his goal. But if he let his mind wander for even a second, the fire would consume him. Otho first heard the story the night before the Legion took him. He never heard the ending.

It was hard to believe that the Legate was dead. He was a tough man, even this method of execution couldn't hold him down. Otho leaned back and stared up at the stars. The spirits worked in strange ways. Perhaps the Malpais Legate would rise from his grave and begin his journey anew. Otho didn't know if the story of the Burned Man comforted him, or terrified him.

-June, 2284-

Dead Sea went to go scout the area up ahead, so Otho was left wandering the streets with legionary-in-training.

"So you're a veteran?" He sounded like he was trying to keep his voice down, but Otho wasn't impressed. "What does that mean?"

"It means I was taken from one of the original southwest tribes." Otho whispered back. "And I served at the first battle against the NCR."

"Oh." He thought for a moment. "What's the difference between a decanus and a veteran?"

"Decanii lead troops."

"Why aren't you a decanus?"

"Because I have little tolerance for stupid questions."

The conversation died after that.

Up ahead, Dead Sea waved for them to follow him. Otho pulled his collar up over his face and hurried his way through the city. He could see the exit looming in the distance. Soon he was going to be a free man. It's all Otho wanted, just to get out of that hell hole.

Otho only allowed himself to breathe when he was out. There was nothing but endless desert sprawled out before him. The neon lights from the city still glowed in the night air, but they were all behind him. Otho longed to see the stars in their full intensity again.

"Don't get too comfortable." Dead Sea spoke under his breath. "We're still in NCR territory."

"Now what?" Otho didn't look away from the desert up ahead. "Are there any independent towns left in the Mojave?"

"Um, guys?" Legionary-in-training was looking over his shoulder. "I mean sirs."

Dead Sea and Otho turned around. Through the dim lights, he could barely make out the form of a squad of NCR soldiers moving towards them.

"It's not worth it." Dead Sea took a step back. "Run."

The second Otho started running, the NCR soldiers charged. He didn't pace himself. He struggled to breathe, his feet burned like hell, but he kept going. The sounds of pounding footsteps around him were drowned out by his rapid heart rate and heavy breathing. The NCR soldiers no longer existed, neither did Dead Sea. All that mattered was his escape. That's all he allowed himself to focus his mind on.

Gunfire shot through the area and Otho came to a screeching halt. Legionary-in-training was nowhere to be seen, but Otho could see Dead Sea on the ground, clutching his bleeding ribs.

Otho looked back at him for a moment. He didn't know what to make of his expression. It was a combination of pain, anger, and desperation. The decanus's metal arm shook as he struggled to push himself back up, only to collapse back down on the desert floor.

The NCR soldiers were closing in like vultures. He didn't have a choice. Otho felt his mouth go dry as he turned around and continued running.

"You bastard!" Dead Sea screamed back at him. "You traitorous bastard!"

Otho already had the screaming blocked out of his mind. It was too painful to listen to. He turned his back to the Legion before. He thought it would be easier the second time.

Even as the sun began to rise over the peaks of the mountains, Otho kept running. His movements became sluggish, his chest and legs felt like they were burning up on the inside. There was nothing but endless desert around him. Both the NCR and the Legion were a distant memory behind him. When he allowed himself to stop running, he collapsed.

The rough surface of the desert floor scraped against Otho's cheek, but he didn't care. Even as the sun continued to beat down on him he couldn't move. What was he running to anyway? Did he really think he was going to start a new life in the middle of nowhere? He had more of a chance with the NCR.

Otho thought back to Stella and he felt a pit form in his chest. She was his sanctuary in a sense. A glimpse of the outside world when he was in the Legion and a reminder of his previous life when he was out of it. But did he really think he could live his life with her? The bruises from her collar were still visible. Those hands he held were still damaged from the arena matches.

His last memory of her continued to burn into his mind as he remained collapsed on the ground. He hadn't slept all night, but his eyes remained open and focused on nothing. Nothing mattered to him. Even when he felt something nudging at the back of his head, he didn't bother to move.

The nudging at his head stopped, but then Otho felt a creature crawl over him. Otho tilted his head up and became face-to-face with the blue and yellow reptilian eyes of a night stalker. Its mouth was wide open, fangs dripping and gleaming in the sunlight.

The gentle hissing coming from the creature was soon joined with the sounds of women shouting. Otho expected the night stalker to charge at them, but instead it remained seated by his head, its rattle tail thwacking against his leg.

Soon enough, he was surrounded. A group of older women stood over him. All wearing various pieces of tribal memorabilia and improvised armor. Their skin was covered in scars, but they all looked more than experienced in the ways of the desert.

The night stalker stood up and walked over to the side of one of the women. Her face was covered with a stark white hockey mask and over her hair she wore a hood constructed from the skin of another night stalker. She placed a hand on her pet's head and knelt down before Otho.

"He's running from something." Her voice was somehow crystal clear from behind that mask. Otho couldn't help but feel a sense of peace when he heard it. "Bounty hunters, law men, who knows. Either way, they'll run into our trap. Tie him up."

Otho couldn't bring himself to speak before the other women tied his wrists together. They dragged him through the desert. It was getting harder for Otho to remove himself from his current situation. His skin burned as he was carelessly tossed on the ground in front of a cave. The cave made Otho think of his tribal home. It took a lot of willpower not to show weakness in front of his captors.

"Make sure he doesn't try anything." The masked woman instructed the other women in her gang. "If he tries to escape, feed him to the nightstalkers."

She pulled her mask and hood off and set them down. Otho thought he was going to have a heart attack.

Her gray hair was tied into multiple braids and fastened into a knot behind her head. She almost appeared regal in the way she stood. But what set Otho off were her tattoos. Etched into the skin of her face were intricately drawn blood red tattoos. Otho would have recognized them anywhere. He thought he was going to pass out.

Otho could already sense the tears beginning to form in his eyes, but he forced himself to keep looking at her.

"Do you recognize me?"

She frowned. "Would I have a reason to?"

"My name is Otto." His voice cracked. "I was once part of the Cii'ton tribe."

The woman's expression started off as confused then morphed into shock. Her eyes widened, her legs shook as she took a step back.

"Otto..." She fell to her knees in front of him and reached out to remove his glasses. "Is that really you?"

He bit his lip and nodded, his wrists were desperately pulling at his bindings. The words he wanted to say were tangled in his throat, but he somehow managed to force it out.

"I'm sorry, mother."

When she wrapped her arms around him, he completely broke down. It was like those long 30 years never happened and he was still a child being comforted after a nightmare. He was sleep-deprived, dehydrated, and being held captive, but he never felt more safe.

"I knew we'd find each other again, pilaa." She whispered. "No one keeps me from my family."

He heard the shuffling of feet from inside the cave. One of the other women stepped out and stared at them.

"Uh…" She spoke up. "So do you still want us to feed him to the night stalkers?"