Part 4: Quartzsite

Halt! Who goes there?

The sentry on duty had his arm outstretched; a submachine gun was slung casually over his shoulder. Having spotted the two strangers from a distance, he had waited until they were within speaking range before he had ordered them to stop. Vitus obeyed, and Haywood, still concatenated with her false captor, followed suit. Immediately she could determine the lackadaisical approach they had towards security. Beyond the sentry lay the encampment itself, which possessed no barricade; rather, isolated stockades functioned as watchtowers, dotted at intervals on the perimeter.

Ave, I am Speculatore Vitus.

Ave Speculatore. What business do you have here?

I have come to trade; to obtain a wife.

The sentry closed in on them. Haywood studied the nearest defence: the watch consisted of two men armed only with spears, peering over the hastily arranged stockade at the new arrivals. Vitus was either correct in his analysis of the apparent minimal threats within Arizona, or they were strategically very poor when considering the construction of their defences.

Who is this? Asked the sentry as he regarded Haywood.

My capture.

Haywood cowered purposefully, lowering her eyes. The sentry considered her for a moment and then, nodded to Vitus; allowing him entry with an exchange of "True to Caesar".

Haywood glanced back towards the church from which they had just departed. The inside of which was as dilapidated and unused as Vitus had claimed. Shards of stained glass were scattered across the floor of the nave, and Haywood collected a sharp fragment hiding it on her person. In the face of Vitus' protestations, she argued in favour of some form of insurance in case events went south. If however, they were to find it on her when she was searched, Vitus claimed that it would be he who would suffer. All the better, she retorted.

They had made their way up the ageing staircase to the steeple, which gave them a clear view in all directions; the long-absent window panes that once formed a glass box beneath the spire itself had since collapsed. Northwards, they could see several derelict buildings which then gave way to numerous tents surrounding a large fenced off area, occupied by hundreds of moving figures. Their position was closer than she had previously thought, meaning that although a kill would be easier from such a short distance, it would also result in Legion forces instantly swarming the building soon after the fact. Only a quick get away from the rooftop, hopefully avoiding a sprain in the jump, could she make her way back fast enough to the shack where she had left her pack. Haywood took Law-bringer from Vitus, checked the cartridge, and then placed it carefully onto the steeple floor. After one last look at the camp, they made their way back down the stairs.

The sentry told Vitus to report to the head Slave Master, directing him to his location. Moving through the camp Haywood was now able to see the Legion war machine up close. Hundreds of recruits roamed about: some were training and busying about their routines, whilst others were entertaining themselves in any manner they sought, which resorted usually to beating the young initiates and slaves without mercy. Orders were issued and signals directed. Haywood instantly decoded the threat that they posed: they were no mere slavers or raiders - they were an army of professionals, built with discipline and moulded in fear.

Finally, they had reached an open tent gazebo; a large table was situated within its centre, covered in parchment and surrounded by several legionaries, who were seemingly more bookish than the warriors from outside. Haywood theorised that this housed the administrative headquarters of the Slaveholdings. A burly and imposing individual stood at the table, studying with apparent difficulty a paper in his hands. Vitus, recognising his rank, stood to attention as he greeted the Slave Master. The man shifted gracelessly to scrutinise the new arrival before him: a slender figure encased in desert dust, bruised, but attentive and willing. He cast his gaze to the bulkier person that accompanied him, releasing the parchment onto the table as he continued to examine her.

Ave legionarius, who is this?

He pointed a stubby finger towards Haywood, who continued the pretence, as best she could, of the broken captive.

My captive sir, I wish to arrange a swap. For a bride.

What is all this? He asked regarding her uniform.

It is the attire of those from across the great river. Those of the NCR tribe.

The man turned back to Vitus.

Is that so? And you took her?

Yes, sir, she was fetching water from the river, and I was able to seize her. The profligate did little to resist.

By the look of you, I think she fought harder than you give her credit. And by the looks of her, if she were a man she could be in the Pretorian guard!

The slaver laughed, lapping up the chorus from the other administrators that obliged in recognising his amusement until he ceased abruptly and bellowed an order to an unseen individual.

Mark her up! he shouted.

A young woman in tattered robes made haste towards Haywood, a tin in the one hand and large cards tucked underneath the armpit of her other arm. She placed them on the floor before Haywood and, with a finger, she began inscribing a number with paint from the tin onto one of the wooden boards. Then, she threaded a string through some pre-drilled holes at the top, and once done, the girl stood up, placing the board over Haywood's neck, and for a moment they caught each other's gaze. Haywood remarked internally at how wretched the girl looked: head shaven, face bruised, eyes hollow, and overall emaciated. After this fleeting moment had passed, the girl retreated as quickly as she came. The Slave Master moved into Haywood's line of sight who was still regarding the departed woman with heartfelt sorrow.

This number; this is you now.

Haywood raised her eyes slowly to meet his.

What's wrong with her? Does she speak?

She's a bit… soft in the head.

Haywood meaningfully directed an aggressive glance towards Vitus in defiance, who made his best effort to ignore her.

Take her to the pen!

Within a moment of the order from the Slave Master, two legionaries came to collect her, untying her binds and escorting her by force.

Are you not… Is she not to be processed? Asked Vitus with confusion.

Later. Relax legionarius, we'll find you a wife in good time. Take a seat.

The Slave Master returned to his papers without any further regard for the new arrival. Haywood continued to elicit some form of response from Vitus but failed as she was led away to the large fenced off area. Dozens of people lined the barrier from within, their arms thrust through small openings, pleading for water, food or relief of any kind. Guards tried their best to beat them back from the perimeter, but a soldier with a feathered helmet advanced towards the scene, gladius in hand, and hacked randomly at one of the outstretched arms, causing the victim to reel back in pain as blood cascaded from the gaping wound. The other prisoners were sent scurrying as the guards erupted into a bout of laughter.

Haywood was taken to the main gate of the compound and was tossed heartlessly onto the broken concrete floor of the pit. She spluttered, and slowly raised herself to her feet. A number of bedraggled individuals had circled her. Her eyes studied as many of them as her processing power would allow: an assortment of individuals - young, old, male, and female were before her. A young man approached her.

Have you seen my sister? Josslyn? Josslyn Thomas?

Before answering, a middle-aged woman presented her own query.

My husband, they took my husband, please.

A cacophony of noise overwhelmed her, pleading and imploring for news and information. She moved through them, gently at first, then harder as she became increasingly irate when they began to accost her physically. Eventually, she broke through their stranglehold and was faced with a picture of misery. Clusters of people, both young and old were malnourished and starving, and in some cases already dead. She heard parents screaming for their children, and children wailing for their parents.

Haywood wondered through the horror, away from the initial horde who had given up on pressing the new arrival. She passed a group of those she assumed were the Mormons of Utah as they prayed to what they called "God". A mother told her son that if he misbehaved then he would be sent to see the Devil. Ungala - the panic in Haywood gave way to rage.

Excuse me.

A man, greying but still able looking, with a solid yet slightly frayed voice, approached Haywood. His calm demeanour indicated an air of authority about him.

Ranger, right? I used to serve.

He offered his hand and Haywood took it.

Jacob Zhu. I was an NCR trooper during the war with the Enclave.

How did you end up here?

I moved out here with my family when I retired. Felt like I had done my service, and wanted to make my own way. Didn't reckon for this. All I wanted was land for my brahmin and peace for my kids.

Your family here?

The man delayed his response.

Dead. Not sure why they took me. Might have guessed I was a vet, that maybe I could be useful in some way.

I'm sorry.

Haywood shuffled slightly; uneasy from his revelation and unsure about the timing of her question.

I'm looking for someone, have you seen any survivors from Sunrise pass through?

Yeah, they came in a couple of days ago. I met their Mayor. I can introduce if you like, but um, well she uh, they gave her a hard time. Come on, follow me.

Haywood accompanied the man across the pen, further away from the main entrance.

I thought they only took women and children.

Sometimes. I guess they take anyone who they deem useful. Like you, if they didn't know your significance when they took you, then they soon will. They may look stupid, but they break everyone eventually. Look around, only the weak and feeble, from as far as Dog City and the Rio Grande. Those who survive will serve some use to them. It's separating the lowest from the low. Anyone who looks like putting up a fight is put on a cross. In other words, they've kept those strong enough to work, but weak enough to obey. So, there's no chance of fighting back, despite our numbers. There she is.

A woman, isolated from the other pockets of slaves, was gently swaying in the still air. Like the girl who gave her the sign, her features were also telling of her plight. Her dark skin was heavily bruised and tufts of her raven-black hair were missing.

Mayor Harford, this is…

Captain Haywood, NCR Rangers.

Haywood produced a hand but the Mayor responded meekly, establishing only eye contact with the ranger.

NCR? She muttered quietly. I regret to tell you that Sunrise…

I know, um, we had some reports and…

Haywood trailed off, unsure how to convey everything that she now knew.

Have you a weapon, Captain?

Haywood thought of the shard of glass that she was carrying.

A weapon?

I'd really like it all to stop now.

No, I… I'm sorry.

Shame.

The mayor wondered from view, staggering as she went.

I did say she wouldn't be too helpful. May I ask what you're after?

Haywood awoke from the daze that the Mayor's condition had had her captivated under.

I'm looking for someone, someone who was captured in Sunrise.

You've come a long way to find this person. Survivors of communities tend to stick together, at least for the first few weeks. This is where all the Sunrisers congregate. I guess your best bet is to ask around.

Haywood thanked the man for his help but would not relay any further information to him. She left him and set about asking those around her if they were from Sunrise, whilst simultaneously keeping an eye out for a woman that matched Vitus' description. The majority either ignored her or answered her with a question of their own until eventually, she came across three women, one elderly, the others of middle-age, sitting amongst themselves.

Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to be from Sunrise?

Fuck off. Answered one of the middle-aged women.

I'm looking for someone, please.

Unless you can give us food or water, we're not interested. Said the other woman.

Walk-Among-the-Stars, do you know her?

The two women eyed each other and shifted slightly.

Can't you see we're trying to keep our mother alive here? Said the first woman.

It's just information.

She's around here somewhere. Probably still acting the Saint. Said the second woman.

What do you mean?

She has some medical knowledge, or so she claims. All our doctors were taken away.

The thought dawned on Haywood that they may be unaware of what happened to the men of Sunrise.

Are you missing people?

Are we… Are you kidding? The first woman scoffed. Our children, husbands and father were taken from us. They won't tell us where. We have no water and no food and you're asking stupid questions.

All the men are dead. Haywood stated with a finality. I'm sorry.

She left them before they could impart an emotional response. She was now on the lookout for a nurse of some description, and after scanning the pen once more, she saw a sickly woman on the hard floor being cared for by a younger woman. She advanced towards them and as she neared she studied her hands, one was covering the woman's forehead and the other was holding her wrist. She caught sight of the palm of this hand and the unmistakable scarring was clear to see.

Walk-Among-the-Stars?

The woman glanced briefly upwards and then instinctively looked back to her patient. After a moment, however, she took a longer view to study the stranger in detail.

Who are you? She asked perplexed.

Her features were untouched from the wasteland. Youthful and welcoming, her face was a portrait of kindness. Her hair was as Vitus had described: sandy brown and braided neatly into knots. Her voice was gentle but clear. As far as Haywood could tell, she had been left untouched by the Legion thus far, unlike the poor Mayor.

Vitus sent me.

The woman raised herself from her position and faced Haywood.

Vitus? Is he ok?

Is there anywhere we can talk in private?

This is as private as it will be.

Haywood took her by the arm a few steps away from her patient to an area that was slightly more isolated.

I'm captain Haywood of the NCR Rangers. Vitus is with me.

Her expression broke into a joyous smile and she began to tear.

Oh my, he did it. He got help. But what are you doing here? You should be telling your superiors…

Miss Stars, from everything Vitus has told me, it's important to know everything that you know from the outset.

The young woman studied her carefully.

The information you have may be vital to the NCR, but I need to know what I'm dealing with.

Um, OK. Where do I start?

I know about Peter Lowell, I heard his recording. Is it true? That there's a bunker in the Mojave?

Yes. Listen, it's a long story. When I was young Peter came to my village...

Vitus said that the Legion came.

Yes. We were separated during the raid. So, I hid, I hid in Peter's cave. When I was left alone, I was frightened. I waited. I thought they would find me, but no one did. After a while, I found the courage to go back to the village. I will never forget what I saw. I survived on my own for years, not sure where to go, or what to do. Then one-day Vitus shows up, I thought he was there to take me away, but he was so happy to see me. He said that he'd dishonoured me when he left me alone before and that he'd swear to protect me and therefore make it up to me.

I felt like I had been given a new life, so I began by looking into Peter's work. He taught me much, but I still had so much to learn. The hardest part was learning to use the terminal, we never got that far with our lessons. Then about a year ago, I broke an encryption which allowed me access to everything. I found the message he left for me and knew I had to get across the river to his old tribe. I thought that if I went alone then a Gila-lurk would get me before I even reached the Colorado, so I waited for Vitus. When he arrived a month ago I told him that we needed to leave. He said that if he was gone for such a long time then he'd be branded traitor and therefore be cast from the Legion. I told him that this information could save the Legion.

Save them how?

By killing Caesar. Giving these young boys another view of the world from the one which has been forced on them. Vitus is really remarkable in that respect. He hasn't rejected them outright, but there is hope in him that...

Do you know how to open the vault?

The young woman tugged softly at her braided hair.

No. Peter thought by overloading the system it would break it open, but from what I can tell the chip is the only way of getting in.

Do you know what this chip is?

No idea.

Where exactly is this vault?

From what Peter said, it's near the electro dam, on the Arizona side. He wasn't too specific, he just mentioned a weather station on a hill...

Have you told the Legion about any of this?

Absolutely not. Are you here to kill me?

Haywood was surprised at the candour of this sudden line of questioning.

I didn't expect a rescue. I know Vitus cares, but you should have ignored his plea. It wouldn't matter what I told them in any case.

Why?

Because the Legion won't use it. Caesar believes in the usefulness of all: slave or soldier. Technology will breed ineffectiveness and passiveness, or so he believes. If they had the means they would destroy it, but it's unlikely they'd care to seek out the technology to open it. I don't know how strong the tribes of the NCR are, but the might of the Legion is unrivalled. Peter was adamant that these machines could help win any future war. If you ask me, you'll need all the help you can get. The Legion won't stop because of a river - Sunrise was proof of that. They won't stop until they have killed or enslaved everyone up to the Pacific.

So, Vitus was right. Haywood thought about Fernandez's protestations at Sunrise, that if they turned back then, then the information would now be in NCR hands. What's more, Stars was unable to provide any further information regarding the bunker - how to open it or it's exact location. Yet, she countered these reflections with the idea of an army under the command of people like Merritt and Christiansen, combined with what Vitus had said of Bullhead. In fact, what would someone like her do with such an army? She came here to kill someone wholly innocent to protect a secret - someone who was facing a fate worse than death. She wasn't here out of mercy however, she was here on behalf of the NCR. Maybe it was best left a secret after all.

She retrieved the glass shard and Stars flinched slightly at its sight.

Take it. Just in case.

I don't understand…

You're going to get out of here.

What about all these people? Can't you help them?

I can't help anyone, but Vitus can.


By the time her number was called it was later in the day, and the Sun had ceased being so dominant in the clear afternoon sky. The two of them had used the time sitting and talking about their respective lives: Haywood spoke of her difficult upbringing in Junktown - living in near poverty as her father worked as a caravan guard, who was first to teach her how to shoot. Whilst her mother would work in one of the local saloon's – work that she never fully specified to her daughter. It wasn't until both her parents began working a trading post together that things started to get better for them as a family. Her parents hoped she would continue the business, but the life of army was always her calling.

Stars spoke of her fortune of being a child of one of the elders, otherwise, she would probably have been punished for spending so much time with an outsider like Peter, yet there was an added expectation of her to become a leading warrior within the tribe. She also illustrated a different picture of Vitus: naïve perhaps, but always loyal. He was more gung-ho when he was younger, but the Legion ironically had the opposite effect on his masculinity, and he had steadfastly embraced a form of pacifism. The Legion had indoctrinated new recruits by forcing them to kill when they were young. After doing so they were told to shed any emotional response, but with Stars, he was able to release his inner anguish, and as a result of his brutal training vowed never to kill again. His hunting skills were fortunately for him transferable to the explorer contingent, and therefore, he was able to keep his promise and avoid "frontline" duties.

Stars escorted Haywood to the gate from where the Slave Master had called for her. As they approached they could see that Vitus was waiting alongside. Stars stopped as soon as she saw him.

Best you stay here, just in case. Haywood said.

What will happen to you?

Don't you worry about me, I plan on a one on one meeting with Ungala.

I've heard he is more monster than human.

Well, we're the perfect match then: many have said the same about me.

Haywood smiled, and Stars returned it. Haywood made her way through the open gate, as two guards kept captors who craved to get out at bay. Vitus continued to view Stars as she remained standing amongst the crowd, whilst the Slave Master took Haywood by the arm. Vitus' glaring stopped the closing of the gate, which caused the Slave Master to question him.

Speculatore, once we assess your captive we can then look at the slaves.

Haywood felt like mouthing something to him in order to get his attention, but his sight was firmly set on Stars.

Vitus? Is that you?

A legionary, who was walking towards them along the outer perimeter of the fence, had called out his name. This awoke Vitus somewhat who casually turned his head to the newcomer.

Palinurus, Ave. Vitus answered calmly.

They told me you ran? That you fought a legionary who was taking a slave. Laughed the legionary.

Vitus instinctively glanced back to Stars, and in turn, the legionary naturally followed his gaze. The legionary seemingly recognising the figure within the pen walked closer to the fence for a better look. Stars responded by turning quickly, retreating back into the pen.

Wait. The legionary said softly as he analysed the information before him. Stop her! He shouted pointing at Stars.

Decanus, what is the meaning of this? Asked the Slave Master.

This man is a traitor, arrest him.

Haywood now knew the scenario that they faced. With her free hand, she opened her palm, forcing it into the Slave Master's nose. The slave master released his grip as he recoiled, and so Haywood took his arm and in a sudden movement broke it. The slave master cried with pain and fell to his knees. The legionary who had recognised Vitus took him by the scruff of his tunic. Haywood in reply kicked him with the base of her boot in the back of his knee, causing him to slump to the floor, releasing Vitus in the process. The crowd of captors went into a frenzy, initially retreating from the melee. The two gate guards closed in on Haywood armed with their machetes. The closest guard swung at her which Haywood easily avoided, and then in one movement brought her elbow heavily into the side of his head felling him to the floor.

RETRIBUTION! Shouted the remaining guard.

He brought his sword downwards, but again Haywood dodged, this time punching her fist into his throat. He released his sword holding his neck in pain, slowly falling to his knees. Haywood unmasked her given sign.

My fucking arm! The Slave Master screamed as he remained kneeling on the floor.

Haywood brought the board down heavily into the side of his head, the sign broke in half as he collapsed to the ground. A cacophony of voices could be heard coming from the tents around them. The captives, realising this was their chance, made for the exit. In the chaos Vitus and Haywood were briefly separated before Haywood found him, taking him by the arm.

We need to go, now! Haywood shouted.

I must get to Stars!

They'll be here any second.

Vitus made an effort to release himself from the hold.

Vitus, look at me. We will get her out, but I need your help. We have to work out a plan. You being dead won't help.

Vitus momentarily remained committed to his cause, only to accept Haywood's strategy as the compound entrance was overwhelmed with slaves. Haywood collected one of the machetes from a fallen guard and they made their way to the nearest tent, which was, fortunately, unoccupied. Haywood stripped off her battle armour to make herself more lightweight. The guards had now arrived at the gate, frantically re-capturing slaves who had made their escape. Haywood indicated for Vitus to take the lead so they could get back to the church. As they made their way clandestinely between tents, he would divert legionaries back to the prison pen to help with the prison escape, making excuses for himself as Haywood did her best to stay concealed nearby.

Eventually, they had arrived at the perimeter guard post from which they had entered by. Haywood, taking cover with Vitus amongst some crates was able to analyse the situation: the sentry armed with a submachine gun was still guarding the base of the guard tower, in addition to the two others within the tower itself, armed only with their javelins. Commanding Vitus to remain in cover, Haywood made for the sentry, oblivious to the ruckus ongoing within the camp, who was facing outwards towards the wastes. He turned at the last moment upon hearing the approaching foe, too late, however, as the machete pierced his torso, and he crumpled to the floor releasing his submachine gun. His cries of pain alerted the two sentries in the tower who, having spotted her, released their spears in her direction. Both of them missed their target as she reached the recently dropped released another volley and this time a spear had pierced her left leg. She let out a scream, but refocused her senses, gunning them down with her newly acquired weapon.

Vitus came to her aid as she broke off the stem of the javelin. He took her around his shoulder and they headed back for the sanctuary of the church whilst bells and drums began to emanate from within the camp. Upon reaching the foyer of the old building, Vitus released her carefully onto the floor.

Who the fuck was that guy? Haywood grunted.

He was a Painted Rock, he knew Stars before the Legion. Vitus explained as he wrapped a makeshift tourniquet around her injury.

Huh, best-laid plans and all that.

I must go back for her Captain.

Okay, ah, just help me to my feet.

Vitus obliged and once on her feet, Haywood presented the submachine gun.

You'll need it more than me. She said.

Vitus took a moment before he responded.

No, I've got this far without it.

Haywood nodded.

Help me up the stairs, I can cover you from up there.

They both ascended the spiral staircase to the steeple. With some discomfort, Haywood went about setting up an enfilade for Law-Bringer in her newly acquired nest. Vitus however, had been scanning the camp for signs of movement.

Stars!

Haywood looked up from her post. She could see some commotion near the pit entrance where slaves were being herded back inside, but one had been left within a circle surrounded by legionaries. Haywood looked through her scope for a better look. He was right, she was bound and trembling, eyeing the soldiers that had her enclosed. A chanting had begun, but not from the source that they were witnessing. Deep within the camp, a column of legionaries was following a figure who was seemingly headed for the congregation.

Vitus, look down the scope. The one in front. Is that…

Vitus observed with Haywood's assistance in locating the individual. After a moment he confirmed that it was indeed the man known as Ungala.

Okay, thanks, Vitus. I'm going to take him out. The moment you hear the shot you rescue her. She's outside the pen so you have to be quick. I suggest covering your face so that you're not recognised.

Will we meet after?

Haywood released a light sigh.

I think it's best if we part ways. You'll be able to get away easier without me.

She met his eyes and held out her hand.

Good luck Vitus.

The man returned it graciously.

Listen's-to-the-River.

What?

My name, my tribal name is Listen's-to-the-River.

She released his hand but continued to study the man beside her. A man who remained an enigma.

My parents died in battle when I was young. I had no one else. The elders cared for me, but never loved me.

Vitus, I don't think this is the time. Stars is…

Please, I owe you this. When I was a child, I was tasked with fetching water from the River of Souls. The elders told stories of our ancestors who lived during the Great Fire, witnessing the dead from the City of Ash drift down the river. And so, it was told that when we die our bodies and our spirits would enter the water. I spent many hours on the riverside, listening for the voices of my parents. I dreamt of becoming a great warrior like them and wanted guidance. Walk-Among-the-Stars was my only friend. She was the only one who believed in me, that I could be something despite my limitations. The Legion made the most of me, but… they didn't care about who I was, or who I am.

Wait a minute, you drank water from the river where you put your dead? Haywood interjected.

He returned a brief smile.

Water for boiling, we had pumps for drinking. All I'm saying is, I owe her. You don't owe anyone. I said before, you don't have to do this, Captain.

Faith. My name is Faith.

Faith. It is a good name. Your parents must believe in you.

The chanting within the camp became louder.

Get out of here. Faith said softly.

River wanted to say something, but he looked away to the source of the noise before returning to meet her eyes.

Thank you, Faith.

River backed away, maintaining eye contact for a while before leaving her alone.


Upon recognising Stars, the legionary known as Palinurus had selected her from the pen during the chaos. After binding her, Palinurus had told her she would be a sacrifice to the Son of Mars for Vitus' betrayal. As the legionaries formed a circle around her, a chanting chorus could be heard in the distance. The slaves lined the fence to witness the ritual. Stars gripped hard on the shard of glass that she concealed in her hand, causing blood to seep out as the chanting got closer. Frightened, she was unsure whether to use it now or to wait.

The circle broke in front of her and the sight ahead caused her to recoil. Black eyes were focused upon her, adjoined with a scaly snout and two snaking horns that were thrust outwards towards her. This hideous "face" lifted upwards revealing the face of a man. Purposely, it would seem, the man would walk head downwards, giving the impression that the animal's head was for all intents and purposes his own. His bodyguard who had followed him, discernible from their lilac uniform instead of the standard scarlet, joined the circle, as the man-beast approached closer. His body was covered in the yellowish-white scales, and feathery spikes protruded above his head down to the base of his back, personifying a decorative spine. His hands were replaced with large claws that stretched down to his knees. All the while the chanting became louder around her - a chorus of his name.

UNGALA

UNGALA

Ungala stopped before her. Stars closed her eyes hoping he and the others would simply disappear.

Mars, deus belli, Mars, deus pugni.

Ungala spoke softly but from the back of his throat. His Latin impeccable, albeit in accented American.

UNGALA

UNGALA

Facultatem cum telis dona, Sic adversarios calcem.

He raised his clawed hands and began to stroke her braided hair with the tips of his fabricated nails.

UNGALA

UNGALA

Armipotentiam dona, Sic ad finem pugnem.

UNGALA

UNGALA

He circled around her, the claws barely touching her scalp.

Valorem militis dona, Sic ab pugnis nonhorrem.

UNGALA

UNGALA

Once he had made her way behind her, he placed the palm of his hand on her crown, gently forcing her downwards. Opening her eyes to this physical command, she obeyed until she was kneeling on the floor.

Mars, deus pugni, Mars, deus belli.

UNGALA

UNGALA

She began to saw at her bonds with the glass shard as clandestinely as she could. Ungala however, had now made a full circle and was facing her from above. She ceased in terror.

In remuneratione ob dona militara, tributum ab pugna dono.

UNGALA

UNGALA

He raised her chin carefully with the edge of his claws until they began to break into her skin, causing her to bleed somewhat. She began weeping from the pain and the fear. Ungala released his hand yet her head remained in place. He retracted his hand back, ready to thrust forward into her exposed chest. Stars closed her eyes once again as tears made their desperate escape.

A shot cascaded throughout the camp, ceasing the chanting instantly, causing a string of confusion amongst the soldiers. Stars re-opened her eyes. The face of the deathclaw was missing, whilst the face of the man within was motionless, his arm still raised in a position to strike. After a brief juncture, one side of his head violently released blood, as though it had been waiting for permission to leave. The man stumbled forward slightly, and Stars thought that he would collapse onto her. Instead, he attempted to right himself with a step backwards, but his body soon succumbed to a series of convulsions, and in one abrupt motion, he buckled heavily onto his back.


Haywood set Law-bringer down with care against the base of the steeple wall. With a pained release, she sat with an effort next to her instrument, with her back to the chaos that she had just set in motion. She looked down at her hands and BEAR CLAWS stared right back. The warm sunshine beat down upon her face, calling her, and so she turned her gaze towards the west. Towards the setting sun.

THE END