Author's Note: Tiny little update. I was attempting to finish the story and post it all one time, but that obviously hasn't happened.
I don't own anything...:'(
The pain was unbearable, and every time Boone drifted back into consciousness there seemed to be new injuries; these pains started to come in more varied, exciting forms: stabbing pains began in his ribs, dull aches originated in his head and legs and, of course, a splitting migraine settled between his eyes.
Boone would rather have endured the pain; if only he could stay awake for more than two and a half minutes then he would know what was going on, where they were, if the Courier and Rex were okay.
Eventually Boone resurfaced to the intensely bright, sore reality of consciousness. Hulking arms were wrapped around him, slightly lifting – but mostly dragging – him along. The Legion men's arms were sticking to Boone's, adhered with warm sweat; Boone bit back a growl of discontent and continued to play dead. With his eyes formed into the tiniest slits, he glanced around – but all the figures were haloed with a blurry outline of light – owing to the ill-timed migraine and the annoying lack of his darkened sunglasses.
In addition to the two warriors hauling him around there seemed to be only two more Legion men. Constant cursing sputtered from one as his outline occasionally faltered as a fuzzy shadowy mass below him lunged toward Boone with a yap before being jerked back. Whimpering sounded as Rex crouched lower to the ground. Boone's eyes adjusted to the beaming daylight and he became aware of the details. Indeed, four of the Legion held them captive; Rex's tail was bristled between his legs, but the canine continued to sneak looks to the slight right in front of the rest of them.
Boone was met with the sight of the Courier's gaping mouth - blood was smeared across is diagonally, forming a scarlet 'X' on her dirty face. Rage ignited inside of Boone, he knew the Legion used a red 'X' to mark its slaves, the memory came back before he could think to suppress it: Carla, standing on a makeshift platform, burlap tossed carelessly about her attractive frame bulged at her torso; one of the markings was drawn coarsely over the rough material near her shoulder and, as Boone stared through his scope, he saw two crimson lines cross over Carla's rounded stomach.
The Courier was also upside-down – slung over her captor's shoulder, bloodied and bruised knees bent over the man's broad shoulder, causing her thighs to be stretched and strained with the rest of her body's weight, the pressure opened the wound on her thigh even more, letting the gape of red be blistered in the Sun. At least the bleeding had let up, Boone noticed.
The Legion troupe made haste in bringing their prizes to Caesar. Boone was done acting by that time, when the trio were hauled into Caesar's tent Boone sneered at the man. The hate roared inside of Boone, the rising temperature of his blood seemed to sear the insides of his veins. Boone thrashed, trying to throw off his two captors, who – with unrestrained enthusiasm – forced him to his knees in front of Caesar. Rex was made to sit, and the Courier was placed on her knees such as Boone. The Legionare stepped quickly back and the Courier swayed on her knees before falling face-first into the dirt. The lesser-ranking men shared a hearty laugh, but it was quickly silenced by Caesar's disapproving stare. One of them yanked the Courier back into a kneeling position by a fistful of her knotting hair; he held her up like this.
"Bastards!" Boone snarled, Rex howled resentfully. Both were met with a swift strike.
"What's this? You think these spoils worthy enough to bring before me?"
The men bowed their heads, mumbling incoherent apologies.
"The dog – my dog – perhaps is worth it," Boone looked sidelong at Rex, the red bull adorning his furry, yet also mechanical, companion's side made sense now. Boone, of course, had mulled over why the Legion's bull was painted on Rex. Indignation flared up momentarily, feeling oddly betrayed. But when Boone looked fully at Rex, who was whining in the direction of the Courier, he knew he couldn't be mad at the dog.
"But the other two," Caesar waved his stout hand loosely at Boone and the Courier, "an NCR man and a filthy woman? You should have slaughtered the man on sight and enslaved the woman."
"But, Sir..." One of the brawny captors started surprisingly meekly, "This is the...famed...Courier, and her companion."
Caesar's face twitched into a stony mask, and he leaned forward in his throne.
"She's the one who slaughtered Vulpes?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And you," he stared down Boone, "you helped her?"
"Damn right I did." Boone jumped at the opportunity to take any shot at this cruel ruler – unfortunately; these weren't the kind of shots he preferred.
"Crucifixion is too good for these degenerates. Send him to the slave quarters, and her to the Doctor. Spruce her up just enough to walk. I have a task for her."
