I thought the idea was sheer suicide, but I couldn't say no. Not once Boone had told me the truth about his wife. No wonder he's completely broken, verging on suicidal. It certainly explains his rather taciturn nature. The sun had barely risen, but I had opened a bottle of whiskey once he started to tell his story. We were at least three drinks in once he finished. "You had to do it," I stated.

"I know I had to, Uhtred. But I still put a bullet in her. It was that or…"

I toyed with my Pip-Boy. "Are you sure you want to see it?"

He nodded and met my eyes. "I know the truth, Uhtred. She hadn't told me, but I knew."

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be. What I did was for the best. But now it's time to settle the score. I want to kill them all, Uhtred. But just the name on that list will be enough."

"And he'll be at Cottonwood Cove?"

"I can put a face to the name. If he's not there, he'll be across the river. And if I see him in my sights, I'll take him out."

"And what about the rest of the Legion?"

"We'll be gone before they have a chance to respond."

Once Cass and Veronica were up and about, Boone and I sat them down and explained what we were going to do. To say they thought we were nuts would be an understatement, but once Boone told them everything that happened in Novac, their disagreements ended immediately. Instead, they asked if we wanted them to accompany us. Boone shook his head. "No, the fewer numbers, the better. That region is Legion country. Uhtred will be my spotter for this. I take out the man who made the agreement with… her, then we return here."

"Do you two mind waiting here?" I asked of Cass and Veronica.

"It's fine. Been here for a while anyway," Veronica replied. Cass simply shrugged her shoulders.

"We should head back towards Novac, Uhtred. From there, it's best we steer clear of the roads. Once we're near Cottonwood Cove, we'll find a good spot."

Wishing us good luck, Boone and I wasted little time packing our few supplies and taking the road heading back the way we'd just come. I'll admit I was a little annoyed to be treading over ground already covered, but at least he'd told me before we had reached New Vegas. We didn't talk much, though agreed to make it to Novac before deciding what to do next.

Making it to Novac quicker than either of us assumed, still plenty of light left in the day, we decided which way to take. "Why not that way?" pointing down a road heading east.

Boone shook his head. "That way leads to Nelson. We don't want to go there." I was about to ask why, but a look suggested I should let the subject drop immediately. "We'll keep to the highway south. There's a prospector camp along the way where we can stop for the night."

"And after that?"

"We keep heading south, turning east. We'll look for the road heading to Cottonwood Overlook."

"How close is it to the Legion lines?"

"Close enough where we can see everything. Far enough away that we should be able to make our escape."

"Should?"

He glanced in my direction. "We'll make it back."

Our progress must have been noted, as we heard someone calling for us not long after leaving Novac behind. Coming to a halt, we turned to see Manny chasing after us. I heard Boone sigh, and I knew this was a conversation he didn't particularly want. Manny must have noticed his face, as his jog slowed to a walk, finally coming to a stop a few metres away.

"Where are you going, Boone?"

"South."

"What for?"

"Personal reasons."

"You're going to get yourself killed. If not yourself, your companion."

"I can take care of myself," I stated, though appreciated what he actually meant.

"I'm doing what needs to be done, Manny. You should know that," Boone added.

"She's not coming…"

Boone stepped forward. "Don't talk about her," he growled, I figured through gritted teeth.

Manny looked past Boone to me. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I shrugged. "I understand why. So I'm willing to help."

"And I don't need yours, Manny. So go home."

He looked disappointed by the harsh tone, but he could read body language well enough. Boone wasn't exactly angry, but it was obvious the relationship the two men had once shared, professional or otherwise, had well and truly disappeared. Manny looked between Boone and myself in silence before he seemed to fully understand the situation, merely nodding his head in Boone's direction before turning around and walking back to Novac.

Without a word, Boone turned around and we continued our journey to the rest stop. There was a lone traveller at the camp as we dumped our things and took a seat by the fire. The traveller asked where we were heading. Of course Boone lied, saying we were heading to the outpost. The traveller said they were heading to New Vegas. Having never been there before, he asked us for any advice. We simply told him to be careful on the road north. The highway was relatively safe, but you could never be too sure.

We rose at dawn the next morning, the traveller wishing us good luck as we departed. The further south we headed, the more the atmosphere and landscape changed, Boone eventually bringing us to a halt. "Camp Searchlight is just ahead. We don't want to go there. We'll head off the road now and swing around."

Heading overland, there was no what I would call cover. Certainly trees nor scrubland that we could use to hide our progress. I thought we were now very close to Cottonwood Cove, and even when crouched down, I thought we would have stood out. But whether our progress was noticed or tracked, I didn't know.

Crossing the main road leading to Cottonwood Cove was probably the most worrying part of our journey so far, knowing we would be completely exposed for at least ten seconds. Boone was in the lead, and we watched for any traffic. Once he was confident, he simply burst from cover, keeping low, and I made sure I stepped where he stepped, and I figured we got across the gap without being seen. Or that was the hope.

Boone led me towards the overlook, eventually finding a position where we could see Cottonwood Cove below us. He handed me a pair of binoculars, and through his scope, we checked the other side of the river too. "Do you know who you're looking for?" I whispered.

"He'll be wearing one of those stupid head pieces."

"What if there's more than one of them?"

Taking the binoculars from my eyes, I glanced in his direction. He returned my look. "Then I guess we might be killing more than one, Uhtred."

I kept any thoughts to myself, at least for the moment, and resumed my watch of the cove below. I could see Legion soldiers on parade, a few walking the perimeter, one or two in guard towers. Across the river, it was more difficult to see, but there was little doubt the camp was enormous, and legionnaires must have numbered in their thousands. I had no real care for the NCR or Legion, but having seen what the Legion had done in Nipton, I certainly didn't want them as an enemy.

So focused we were on trying to find the man Boone wanted that we never heard them coming. I guess our progress had been noted. I'm not sure since when, but when I felt the cold steel press into the back of my head, I knew Boone and I were well and truly fucked.

"Profligate scum," a voice growled behind us.

A glance towards Boone suggested he wanted to do something very stupid. I very subtly shook my head. Now is not the time to fight. Grabbed by the collar, I found myself hauled to my feet, surrounded by a dozen legionaries. Nearly all eyes moved from me to Boone once they hauled him up, the beret on his head would have stood out like a beacon.

"NCR!"

"Retired," Boone replied.

The legionnaire looked at me. "I'm a courier."

I guess he didn't like my tone. Or the smirk on my face. I felt a crack on the back of my head and my world turned black once again.


I woke up as water was splashed over me. Trying to move, I quickly realise my hands and ankles had been bound behind me, glancing back to see I'd been tied to a post. Guess I should be glad I'm not up on a cross, from what I've seen before. Blinking rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the light, I looked around for Boone, but I couldn't see any sign of him.

Looking down, I realised I'd been stripped down to my underwear. Where my guns, coat and everything else had been taken, I didn't know yet. Finally looking up at the person who had splashed water over me, I met his eyes. He glared at me in return. "Consider yourself lucky to still be breathing. If I had my way, you'd be up on a cross."

I said nothing. I had no memory, but I knew when to keep my mouth shut. And I'd keep it shut unless asked a direct question.

"If you're wondering where you are, I'll be polite enough to inform you. You're currently in Cottonwood Cove." He pointed somewhere I couldn't see. "You were just up on that hill over there. But what you didn't know is that we had been tracking your progress since leaving Novac. Anyone wearing a beret of the NCR was always going to gain our attention. We simply wanted to know what he wanted."

I said nothing. A couple of sarcastic remarks came to mind, but I knew the man in front of me held all the power. My head was still sore from whatever had hit me before.

"Consider yourself lucky. Caesar wants to know who you are and what you wanted. While you may not speak to the man himself, he does wants you and your friend brought across to the main camp."

"Where is my friend?" I finally asked. I'll admit the fact I couldn't see Boone was a concern.

"We are taking good care of him."

"So he's still alive?"

"For the moment. Caesar will make final judgement." Well, that was something, though I dreaded to think what they were going to do with him. "I wouldn't worry about him, courier. I'd worry about yourself. I don't know if you're NCR or not, but you were working with a profligate. As far as I'm concerned, you're even worse for allying with them."

With those words, he turned and walked away, leaving me bound to the pole. The bastards had tied me in such a way that I couldn't relax. If I did, my shoulders felt like they were going to be wrenched out of their sockets. I must have been sat on my knees for at least a few hours, the entire time under the baking sun, feeling the skin on my head almost start to cook, covered in sweat despite the fact I wasn't really doing anything.

They left me there for at least one night, though I wasn't sure how long I'd been out, whether I'd already been held for two. I didn't sleep as I never got comfortable, so by the time the camp burst into life the next morning, I was exhausted. It was midday before anyone approached me. I was brought no food or water. Instead, the restraints around my wrists and ankles were taken off, and before I could even think about fighting back, I was blindfolded, my hands bound in front of me, and feeling the barrel of a gun in my back, told to move.

The crossing only took a few minutes once I'd been sat down on the boat. I had wondered if the Legion had built a bridge, but if they had, they were certainly not going to give someone like me any indication. It was a short crossing, though I was sure they circled the boat at least three times, before we docked and I was dragged ashore. I heard no mention of Boone, nor heard his voice, so was still wondering where he was.

Dragged by my bound wrists, my tired, hungry, thirsty body nearly gave out once or twice climbing what felt like a hill, before I was turned and forced into my knees again.

"Don't move," a voice warned. I heeded that warning for the time being.

I was only kept there a few minutes before my blindfold was removed, blinking rapidly as I was nearly blinded by the light. Looking around, I could see plenty of legionaries and what I could only assume were slaves. Looking back at the man in front of me, I could barely see his eyes for the thing on his head.

"Profligate."

"Uhtred."

That earned me a crack around the ear from someone standing behind me. "You are a profligate. If it were my choice, you would be crucified, though only after we learned all about you." Then a smirk appeared. "But we know enough, courier. We know you survived being shot in the head. We know you have fought your way across the Mojave searching for the man who shot you."

"You know a lot about me."

Another crack across the head. "Silence." I glared at him, the smirk that had disappeared reappearing for a moment. "You have proven your toughness, your strength. Therefore, Caesar has decreed that you will fight."

"I won't fight for him."

"You won't fight with us. You are not worthy of the Legion. At least, you're not yet. But you will fight to entertain. You will be put into the ring. You will fight who we say you will fight. You will kill who we say you should kill. Refuse to do this, and you will die."

I could only think of one question. "Why?"

"Caesar believes killing you will be a waste. He believes you can be moulded, turned into just the man he will want. Oh, believe me, Caesar has plans for you. Why don't you just sit there a while and think it over. Not that you actually have a choice."

There wasn't a lot to think about, but they left me tied to the post until the next morning before I was finally released and escorted to what could only be considered a cage. After at least two days without sleep, food and water, I wasn't in the best state, but considering they wanted me to fight, food and water at least arrived later that day, and after I'd scoffed down the food, I finally got some sleep.

At least they didn't lie. They wanted me to fight, and the next day, I was hauled out of my cage, escorted to a waiting area outside what I thought was the ring, where I was given a weapon, a machete. Asking about armour, the legionnaire told me to fuck off and be happy enough I'd been given a weapon.

Three legionaries armed with weapons escorted me to the entrance of the ring. The gate was opened by what I assumed was a pully and I was pushed inside, turning back to see the gate close immediately. Looking around, there was a small crowd of people watching, while I noticed a tent on a hill above the ring. In the ring sat a few people, and I guessed one of them may have been Caesar.

Applause gained my attention as I glanced to see someone else enter the ring. I was expecting a legion soldier. Instead, they sent me… I'm not sure. A slave? A civilian? Whoever it was, they were armed with slightly better weapons and had some armour, but I could see the machete shake in their hand, their eyes meeting mine filled with nothing but fear.

If they wanted entertainment, they were not going to get it. Striding forward with purpose, my opponent barely managed to block my swing, the clang of our machetes ringing out in the silence. I wasn't trying to kill my opponent, merely disarm and put him on the ground. It took all of ten to fifteen seconds, if I counted correctly.

Eyes met mine again, pleading with me not to take the killing stroke. Looking up at the tent, I now figured out who Caesar was, a bald headed but broad man, who barely looked in my direction before he held out his right hand and put his thumb down.

I just dropped my machete to the ground.

Gates opened immediately, and I soon found myself surrounded by at least two dozen legion soldiers. The man who had spoken to me on arrival stepped forward. "Pick up your weapon and kill your opponent."

"No."

He stepped forward, and even quicker than I could believe, had a knife at my throat. "Pick up your weapon and kill your opponent, courier. You have three seconds, otherwise your blood will spill in addition to your opponent. Do you really want to die for that thing on the ground?"

A flick of the knife and I could feel the blade ready to strike. I knew they were not bluffing. I didn't even count to one before I nodded. Reaching down to grab the machete, I stood over the clearly frightened slave, noticing the wet patch that had formed in their groin.

"I'm sorry," I said before I finished the job. I made sure it was quick, not looking in their eyes as they died.

Surrounded by two dozen legion soldiers, when they told me to drop the weapon, I did it immediately. Feeling something sharp poke my back, knowing it was at least a couple of spears, I was escorted out of the ring towards my cage.

"A warning, courier. When Caesar gives an order, you will follow it. Refusal to meet an order of Caesar required the harshest of punishments. Remember, your life is nothing to us."

Put back in my cage, I was fed and watered again, and went to sleep.


I fought, I killed, I ate, I drank, I slept. I wasn't allowed to train. I didn't really need it. Caesar said I was kept around and fought for entertainment. I failed to see the entertainment factor in slaughtering innocents. With every life I took, a little part of me died along with them. After the first ten, they finally put people in the ring who could at least fight. I took one or two wounds, started to bleed, started to sweat, started to actually fight. But they would still die in the end.

I was never given armour. Was never given any form of real protection. I only ever fought with a machete. After the first fifteen, I started to toy with my opponent, put on a show. I knew I would have to kill them eventually. I made a game of it, letting them believe I didn't have the upper hand. But I would always make sure their end was quick in return.

I didn't speak to anyone. I barely uttered a word. Whoever was in charge of me barely spoke to me in return. Only orders such as 'Up', 'Fight', 'Eat and drink'. At least they gave me plenty of food and water. I felt my strength return over a number of days. It probably helped that I sometimes fought more than once a day.

As for Boone, I still saw no sign of him. I tried not to worry about him, but I knew the Legion would not be kind to him. The one thing I kept in the back of my mind is if he were dead, they would probably take delight in telling me. But telling me would no doubt anger me. I was already furious about the predicament I found myself in, feeling rather helpless that I was being used as little more than a toy. But informing me that Boon was dead would probably tip me over the edge. If he were dead, they were better off not telling me.

I'd lost track of days after a while. There was little point in counting. I would fight, eat, drink, sleep, repeat. Slaves would gawk at me as I passed by them towards the ring. Legion soldiers would stop and stare, some would make comments, trying to get me to react. I would just stare at them in return, hoping me dead eyes would worry them. I liked to see their reaction when I did. Their smiles faded, replaced by concern, even fear. Then I would smile, and I would notice steps back, or hands moved to weapons. I heard them mutter names for me. I did wonder what I looked like. I wasn't allowed to wash, so knew I was still covered in the blood of my victims.

Into the ring once again, just me and my machete. It was the same one. Covered in the blood of all those who had fallen. Caesar still watched each of my fights from his vantage point high above in his tent. The crowds had grown over time as I fought better opponents. I simply strode into the ring as always, stood still and watched the other gate, wondering who the Legion wanted me to fight today.

The gate opened and through the opening appeared a Legion soldier. I'll admit to feeling a little excitement. Finally, no more innocent victims. Even those people who had proven able to fight had been forced into the ring against me. Now I would have… I wouldn't call it revenge. Revenge would be against Caesar or the man who had spoken to me. But I would now take joy in spilling the blood of the enemy in front of me.

He did something strange first, turning to face Caesar, lifting his weapon and crying, "Ave! True to Caesar!"

I simply twirled my machete and waited for the soldier to approach. I wasn't going to take me time with this time. I wasn't going to make it pretty. I was going to make it quick and watch him bleed. Yet, despite the confidence in his stride, and the firmness of his voice, I met his eyes. And I could see it. See the fear. The shake of his hand holding his weapon. The concern in each footstep, whether to the side or forward. I knew this soldier did not want to be in the ring with me. I knew he was afraid.

Letting him come forward, I disarmed him in one sweep on my machete, then cut across his throat. I felt the blood spray as he immediately collapsed to his knees. Another swing of the machete and I took his head.

"Is that the best you have, Caesar!" I roared. I hadn't spoken in days. My voice sounded… different.

Taking the head from the ground, holding it by the hair, I then flung it towards Caesar in his tent. I didn't hear the yells as I noticed it land just in from of their leader. I then stood and waited in the middle of the ring, waiting for their reply.

They arrived a couple of minutes later, forming a square around me. I didn't bother counting their number. All I knew is that I was outnumbered. "Weapon down!"

"Fuck off."

"Weapon down or you will be beaten."

I twirled the machete. "Come and take it."

I killed four of them before they beat me unconscious.


I found myself woken by water being splashed over me. I was tied to the post again, hands and ankles bound, forced to kneel. I hurt from the beating I took, looking down over my body to see a few bruises already forming. But nothing felt broken, so although I'd been beaten, I knew they hadn't been trying to actually properly hurt me. I looked up and heard a growl, knowing it was from me.

"You will learn respect, courier." I spat at his feet, earning a smack on the back of the head. "You will learn respect, courier. Caesar has allowed you to live, allowed you to fight. Do not make him change his mind. You have fought well. You have not died. Do you really want to die now?"

I pulled at the restraints, wanting them to break. I wanted to get my hands around his neck and squeeze, watch his eyes as life was extinguished. I watched that same smirk form at my reaction. "Good thing we have you tied up, courier. You are a dangerous man. You will remain where you are for now. You need to learn a lesson. Be glad you are simply tied to a post. There are worse punishments in life."

I was kept there until my next fight. I think it was the next day. I couldn't really be sure, every day now passing into the next. It may have only been a week. It may have been a month by now. I noticed the same stares from the slaves, but now the Legion soldiers looked angry. I met their eyes again and would occasionally step toward them, smiling at their reaction, stepping back involuntarily, reaching for a weapon, anger turning to fear.

Even the soldier in charge of handing me a weapon now look at me with a mixture of anger and fear. Taking hold of my machete, I looked at the blade. It had once been clean. Now it was covered in blood. At least none of it was mine.

Entering the ring through the same gate, I simply waited for whoever would be sent to face me. I knew it wouldn't be a civilian. Caesar was testing me. He wanted me to see how good I really was. So I knew it would be another Legion soldier.

I smiled as the figure stepped into the ring. Finally, it would be a worthy opponent.

I had had it too easy since that first fight. Sure, I'd fought as well as I could, but I was never going to improve by fighting untrained, unworthy opponents. The warrior in front of me was trained, tough, and would not die easily. For the first time, I truly bled. But although I felt the pain, I ignored it. If I died, I died. It didn't really matter anymore.

The crowd roared on their soldier. I could feel the power in each swing. I could sense his training in how he moved his weapon, how he moved his feet, the concentration and focus on his face, in his eyes. I had no training, or at least no training I could remember. Everything I did was simply on instinct, what I believed was the right thing to do. It had worked so far.

My opponent said nothing, barely made a sound. Certainly didn't try talking or taunting. There was only the clang of our weapons, the sweeping of sand as our feet found purchase as we moved to strike. I could hear myself breathing deeply through the exertion, could feel sweat drip down my arms, my chest and my back, blinking to keep it out of my eyes. The soldier was dressed in uniform, wondering how hot he was now feeling. The heat was unbearable in the ring. I wondered if he would tire first.

Finally, tired of toying with him, or him toying with me, I simply went on all-out attack. It caught him by complete surprise, and after backing him up against the wall, using fists and knees to finally disarm him, I put him on the ground with a knee to the groin and using the handle of my weapon against the side of his head. Dragging him into the middle of the ring, I pulled him by the hair forcing him onto his knees.

I could hear consternation outside the ring, knowing they were coming to stop me, but I ignored it, simply glaring up at Caesar. I knew his eyes met mine, as I turned my attention back to the figure on his knees, raising the machete and striking down. It wasn't a clean swing, and I had to strike again before taking his head. Dropping the machete, I picked up the head and lifted it high as I turned towards Caesar.

"You'll need to send in better than that!" I roared before I flung it towards them again.

I was beaten again, though this time I was kept awake before being dragged out of the ring and re-tied to the post.