Knock, knock, knock.
"Go away, Vulpes."
"Let me in, you insufferable woman..."
"Fuck off."
"Let me in now!"
"Go to hell."
"You blasted idiot! You wanted me to check on the boy, didn't you?! I've got him right here! Open the goddamn door already!"
Sandra, who was standing over a pot of boiling molerat soup, stopped and went to the door. When she opened it, her mouth fell open at the sight of Conor, who was shaken, battered, teary, and bruised. Vulpes pushed the boy into the apartment and closed the door behind him.
"What the fuck happened...?" Sandra gasped.
"The so-called Freedom Fighters happened," Vulpes told her. "Tried to get to you by beating up a child. Your typical profligate behavior."
Sandra sat Conor on the couch and went to work fixing him up. Vulpes sank into the cushions, sighing and folding his arms behind his head. Once Conor was all bandaged up, Sandra gave him a soda and turned on the television, playing the Silver Shroud. Conor sipped on his Nukacola and watched the program. Sandra went back to the kitchen to finish the soup, wearing a disturbed look as she hovered over the pot. She'd have to do something about the Freedom Fighters...
Vulpes fell asleep in a sitting-upright position, and soon after, Conor snuggled into Vulpes' side and drifted into a slumber. Sandra draped a blanket over the boy, her thoughts more and more troubling as the minutes went by. Unable to rest, Sandra left the complex and went to the House of Impersonation. The King and Pacer were up late tonight. That was a good thing.
"Well, lookie who it is," Pacer said. "Queenbee's here for a visit. Ain't seen you drop by in a while."
"Yeah, well..." Sandra replied, looking to the King. "About that favor you owe me..."
"Finally gonna ask, huh? Alright, ask away," the King said.
"The Freedom Fighters... have you heard of them?"
"Ah, yeah, new bunch of local junkies. Been causing a ruckus in the streets lately. What about them?"
"They just tried to kill a little kid," Sandra informed. "They beat him to a pulp. Almost killed him."
The King and Pacer both frowned at hearing this.
"Yeah, so... if you guys could do something about them, that's all I want from you," Sandra said.
"We'd be doing a favor for the Kings too, and all of Freeside while we're at it," the King said, trading mischevious glances with Pacer. "Keepin' the riff-raff in check is what the Kings are here for. We haven't been messin' with them Freedom Fighters 'cause they haven't given us a real reason to... until now. Nobody kills Freeside kiddos on my watch. Pacer... round up the boys. Let's hit the road. I think it's time the big boss man paid them small fries a visit."
The next morning, Sandra slept late.
Vulpes had woken up on the couch, instantly jumping to his feet when he realized that Conor was lying on his leg. Conor simply yawned and turned over. Around the time Vulpes woke up, Julie was making her way to the apartment complex from the Mormon Fort, but she was sidetracked by a ghastly sight at a nearby alleyway. The King, Pacer, and five other Kings members were standing over the bodies of the Freedom Fighters, smoking cigarettes and joking about their brawl as casually as ever. Julie gulped and marched away. When she reached Sandra's apartment, Vulpes answered the door.
"Um..." Julie said. "Is the courier here? I got a letter for her in the mail today. A caravan dropped it off at the fort."
"She's sleeping like a lazy wildebeest," Vulpes replied tonelessly.
"Well... here, give this to her for me, will you?" Julie asked, handing him an envelope. "Thanks."
Just when Julie left, Sandra appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, her hair screwed up and her tank top twisted crookedly around her body. She yawned, grabbing a Quantum from the fridge and inhaling half of it. Vulpes gave her the letter.
"Wha's this...?" Sandra moaned sleepily.
"Don't know," Vulpes replied. "The doctor woman said it was for you."
Sandra ripped the envelope open and skimmed over the sloppy handwriting.
Courier,
You instructed me to message you VIA the Old Mormon Fort in Freeside if ever there was an emergency. I
addressed this letter to Courier/Arcade Gannon, just as you asked, so I hope that it reaches you. I was
certain that I wouldn't need your assistance again, but after the events that have transpired in New
Canaan, I'm afraid I may need your help again. The Legion have been pushing closer and closer to
Sorrows and Dead Horses' territories, and while the White Leg threat has been more or less eliminated,
I worry that the Legion appearances may have rendered our efforts to hold New Canaan null and void. We
were forced to abandon our home in the end, and we now reside parallel to another tribe in Nevada, those
who call themselves the Great Khans. The Khans are heavily on guard, so I've been unable to strike any
sort of peaceful arrangement with them. We've had a couple of misunderstandings, one of them leading
to an accidental death. I was uncertain if you had any connections with the Great Khans, but you have
more investment and knowledge of the Mojave than I. My people are running low on basic essentials,
and I fear that the Legion will sniff out our presence here if we remain stationary for too long. If
there is anything you can do, please assist us in any way that you can. God be with you.
-J
"Oh shit..." Sandra muttered. "Joshua Graham."
Vulpes tensed up, looking like he might've been shocked for a split second before regaining his composure. He'd been trained not to speak the name Joshua Graham, and hearing the Legate's name spoken aloud sent a shiver down his spine as if he expected Caesar to burst into the room and slay the both of them.
"Why on earth is the Burned Man writing you?" Vulpes asked her. "Who are you to him? Have you known him this whole time? Even when you visited us in the Fort? If Caesar would've known..."
"He wouldn't have done shit if he knew," Sandra replied. "Whether he knew or not... Boone still woulda' blew his head off."
Vulpes gulped.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Vulpes moved to the window, observing as the sunlight became weaker, grayish-blue clouds overcoming the sky. A rumble of thunder echoed from outside. Sandra stood beside the Fox, gazing over Freeside, both of their minds racing.
"Storm clouds gather on the horizon," Vulpes muttered. "There's a massive storm coming, indeed. We all better be prepared when it does."
Sandra knew what he meant. Freeside was growing restless, as were the NCR and the Legion, and the tension had even reached Utah. Some day soon, a war would arrive on the doorstep of Vegas, and Sandra had found herself in a position of power that held her responsible for dealing with it. Now would have been a good time to turn to Arcade for guidance, to gauge his opinion and form a plan from there - but Arcade was gone. Vulpes made a great henchman, but he didn't have the same view of the Mojave as Arcade. In fact, Sandra doubted anyone had a perspective so enlightened it could challenge Doctor Gannon. Arcade would've been the person to ask for advice right now... but she'd have to figure it out on her own. Arcade wouldn't help her as long as she kept Vulpes around, and for some unexplainable reason, Sandra didn't want to get rid of Vulpes.
"What do we do...?" Sandra mumbled, wishing that Arcade could somehow answer her from where ever he was.
"We fight," Vulpes said simply. "The Republic and the Legion will stop at nothing to seize this place... and if you truly want to maintain it, you will have to lead a war. There is no way around it."
Sandra thought on this. The army of Securitrons she'd awakened at the Fort would be a match for the Legion, and perhaps the NCR... but both of them at once? Did she have enough Securitrons to take on two fully-fledged factions alone?
"We need help," she decided. "We need all the allies we can get."
"You have your bots," Vulpes said. "You have the Kings. You have your friends. You have..."
"No, we need more than that," Sandra remarked. "This is a war. We need more than a little militia. We need everyone we can possibly get."
"You need to go expediting for recruitment contracts," Vulpes told her. "There are factions in the Mojave you've yet to make contact with. The Kahns, the Brotherhood..."
Sandra thought of the Lyon's Pride back in DC. She and her friends tried to find the western Brotherhood a while back, but they never succeeded. The only Brotherhood branch she knew she could rely on was clear across the country, and she knew absolutely nothing about the Great Kahns.
"Alright," Sandra said. "Conor can stay here while we're gone. We have to go by the shops and stock up. We'll go to Mick n' Ralph's first-"
"Hold on." Vulpes held up his hand. "We're leaving? Today? Right now?"
"Well, yeah," Sandra nodded. "We have to get started right now. We don't know when this war is gonna happen, and if we're gonna make alliances, we need to get moving asap."
Vulpes glared down at the carpet.
Sandra stared at him. "What's wrong?"
He met eyes with her, and she spotted a familiar flicker of fiery blue in his gaze. He only looked that way when he was angry or deep in thought.
"I'm betraying my Legion if I go with you," he said. "I can't."
"Foxxy," Sandra said, trying not to smile when Vulpes cringed at the nickname. "They've been sending assassins after you. We tried to save the Legion, and it just didn't work. If you go back to them, you're dead. At least with me you don't have to worry about anyone trying to stab you in the back."
"Oh no?" Vulpes replied. "Your little doctor friend tried to blow my head off, do you remember?"
"I know Arcade, and I know he won't lay a hand on you as long as you're on my side," Sandra told him. "He's not a violent person."
Vulpes grimaced, seeming unconvinced.
"Foxx-I mean-Vulpes." Sandra placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you wanna give me a chance, I'll look after you. You're still Legion. But you're with my Legion now."
Vulpes gave her a strange look. "Your Legion?"
"My Legion of misfit independents and robots," Sandra smirked. "It's my own personal army of freaks. It's the Courier Army."
Vulpes was silent for several seconds.
"What choice have I got..." he grumbled.
"Yeah, that's the spirit." She patted him on the arm. "Come on. We've got a big ass road trip ahead."
The two of them left the apartment with their bags, Scar scuddling along at their knees. Sandra felt hyped, rushed in a way she hadn't felt in almost five years. Last time she prepared for a war, she nearly got herself killed amidst laser fire and chem use. This time would be different; this time, she'd plan everything ahead of time instead of running in guns blazing, and she wouldn't lose her friends to another careless accident. The battle for Project Purity was narrowly a success - but the Battle of Hoover Dam would be a landslide victory. Nothing could stop her now.
After stocking up on ammunition, stims, and easily-packaged foods, Sandra and Vulpes prepared to leave through the east gate. Just when they turned the corner, however, they encountered something standing directly between them and their exit - a gun battle.
Kings, Freedom Fighters, and random Freesiders were lost in a scuffle around the gate. A few of them were letting off gunfire, and Pacer was attacking members of the Freedom Fighters with a baseball bat. Pacer and the King seemed to be fighting back-to-back, but the Freedom Fighters had more guns among them, and the Kings were falling on the street like dominoes.
"Son of a bitch..." Sandra swore, holding up her shotgun.
Vulpes' arm shot out in front of her. "Don't intervene. Not yet."
"But they're dying!" Sandra exclaimed.
"Yes, but the Freedom Fighters haven't noticed us yet," Vulpes reminded her. "As soon as you open fire, they'll turn their attack on us. We're perfectly exposed targets right now."
Sandra's teeth ground together. She hesitated, watching as the fight ensued, her stomach churning.
Pacer landed a hard strike on the skull of an enemy, and just then, the King took a bullet to the hip. He fell to his knees, and Pacer jumped even deeper into the crowd of brawlers in a rage. Sandra found it harder and harder to remain stationary.
Just then, the eastern gate eased open, and an unsuspecting caravan came through. It was a group of five travelers from Westside, accompanied by a brahmin carrying numerous empty sacks that once contained water - and walking beside the two-headed cow was a familiar figure, a white coat, a head of blonde hair, a pair of rectangular glasses...
Arcade marched into Freeside along with his fellow Followers, all of them freezing when they realized they'd stumbled into a gang war.
"Fuck it," Sandra said, charging forward and unleashing a barrage of 12 gauge rounds.
One body fell, then another, then another - and Sandra pressed on, marching through the crowd and ignoring the turning heads, the twisted expressions, the angry eyes that were all locking in on her. The Freedom Fighters focused on the courier, and Sandra tried not to feel the bullet grazing her on the leg or the laser burning her on the collar. Forward she marched, dropping one Freedom Fighter after another and making her way toward Arcade.
"Blasted fool..." Vulpes growled, leaping into the mayhem and launching supercharged punches at his foes.
Suddenly, the standoff that happened on the roof of Gomorrah disappeared from her mind, as did every word from the argument she'd had with Arcade. Now, all she cared about was reaching him, standing her ground in front of him, making sure that he'd get out alive...
This is familiar.
Charging in guns blazing, her body aching with a variety of injuries she didn't realize she had, Sandra became stranded in the heart of the battle. Her life flashed before her eyes - more vividly than anything, she remembered every time she'd landed herself in this situation before, diving into a horde of supermutants to save Charon... so many times, she did this for Charon... throwing her own life to the wind and risking everything just to see him...
This is way too familiar.
"San-" Arcade started, but he was interrupted by a penetrating gunshot. One of the Followers fell to the ground, and immediately, the remaining few sought cover behind their brahmin.
From the back of the battle, Vulpes fought his way through, and Arcade did the same from the front. Blue laser fire and explosions of cerulean light burst from either side each time Vulpes landed a punch or Arcade let off a shot. The King was kneeling wounded on the pavement, but he still returned fire with his pistol, and Pacer had all but given up. Then, the guards of the Mormon Fort flooded onto the streets, which gave the Freesiders the extra edge they needed. At once, the Freedom Fighters were losing the fight.
Arcade and Vulpes were ruling the fight now, and the Followers guards gave them plenty of backup. Out of nowhere, a Freedom Fighter emerged from behind a street light and whacked Vulpes on the back of the head with a tire iron. A splitting pain erupted through Vulpes' skull, his vision screwing up, his balance abandoning him.
"Dirty filthy proflig-"
The attacker tried to swing again - then, someone grabbed him by the hand.
Arcade yanked Vulpes away from the Freedom Fighter. Instantly, the doctor was standing less that a foot from the foe, too close to use his LAER, too close for comfort. His hand moved on its own, pulling the surgical saw from his side and thrusting the roaring blades into the attacker's stomach.
The Freedom Fighter screamed and gurgled. Arcade's coat and glasses quickly became stained in blood splatter. He jerked the surgical saw away, allowing the mangled attacker to fall to the ground.
Arcade panted, spitting the other man's blood from his mouth, his eyes wide with shock.
"A... Are you alright?" he gasped at Vulpes.
Vulpes merely stared at him.
Sandra's hand clamped onto Arcade's coat, her face flashing an insane smile. She spun around, gun at the ready and prepared to fight off the rest, but all of the Freedom Fighters now lay dead on the pavement. The fight was over.
"Haaah... see? I figured..." Sandra sputtered. "I figured we... the three of us would make a... good team... I knew it..."
Her knee buckled, and Sandra collapsed. Arcade caught her on the way down.
"Sandra... just stay still..." Arcade surveyed her. A red burn was fizzling the skin along her collar, and her leg was pouring blood. "God... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He went to work on her, first wrapping a discarded bandana around her leg, then disinfecting the laser burn at the base of her neck.
Vulpes stood over them both, saying nothing.
Sandra exhaled a few laughs. "You're so stupid... you think... you think I'm gonna be fine if you're not around...? You're stupid..."
"Yeah, I have a good track record of making stupid decisions in any kind of relationship," Arcade replied, attempting a smile. "You really will get yourself killed if you're not supervised... God... what were you thinking?"
"Just..." Sandra sighed. "Wanted you to... be okay..."
Arcade hovered over her, a sparkle of sincerity in his emerald eyes. "Sandra..."
"Shhht... shut up..." Sandra groaned. "Don't ruin the moment..."
"No, Sandra, I'm sorry," Arcade said. "I shouldn't have been so judgmental. I'm sorry."
"Shht..."
"I really am. I'm sorry. I planned to come see you today... to tell you sorry in person. I didn't expect to reunite like this, though..."
"That's what you get... for being careless..."
"I was just helping the Followers transport some water to Westside. I didn't think it was a life-and-death sort of task."
"Heh... shows what you know..."
Sandra's eyes were drifting shut, and she felt like she wanted to fall asleep on the concrete, but she forced her eyes open and peered around. "Foxxy... where's Foxxy...? Is he okay...?"
"I'm here," Vulpes said. "Please stop calling me that."
Arcade snickered. "Foxxy, huh? So the Legion's most notorious frumentarius has devolved into Foxxy? Oh, that... that's just marvelous."
Vulpes glared at him.
Arcade reached his feet, meeting Vulpes' eyes.
"I'm a bit surprised, honestly," Arcade said. "I'm surprised that you're still here. I thought you would've abandoned her by now."
"So did I," Vulpes grumbled.
Arcade scooped Sandra off the ground, carrying her like an overgrown infant. He looked to Vulpes again, his expression taking on a rather serious visage.
"I think we all need to talk."
Dogs.
Yapping, snarling, foaming, rampaging...
The dogs were the most prominent of Sandra's memories of Denver, but there was much more to the story than the diseased canines roaming the streets. The journey from DC was hellish at best. At first, it wasn't hard; Sandra found a caravan heading west and paid them a lump-sum of caps to take her along for the ride. Once she reached middle America, however, she found herself stranded with no friends, no map, and almost no money. So many days, she traveled. So many hours, she walked alone through the wasteland, turning to talk to Charon and bursting into tears when she remembered that he was no longer by her side, that he died a senseless death in the battle for Project Purity...
And as the days dragged on, Sandra felt herself slipping, her stomach aches disappearing; after a while, she didn't feel the sensation of hunger anymore, and she didn't feel thirsty either. After days without food, her body simply accepted that it was starving, and she spoke to Charon all the time, no longer burdened by her memories of the war against the Enclave. Because now - now that she was dehydrated, starving, and alone - she was convinced that Charon was by her side, that everything was fine, that nothing in the world mattered apart from her venturing the wasteland alongside her deceased best friend. When Sandra was talking to Charon about Bryan's favorite Nukacola flavor, she stopped midsentence, seeing the city of Denver in the distance.
"Big city," she said, checking her Pip-Boy. "Still not showing up on the map, though."
In reality, her Pip-Boy was powered off, and she was staring into a blank screen rather than a map.
"What do you think?" Sandra asked, staring into the empty space where she invisioned Charon. "I think we should check it out."
"Suit yourself," she heard him say. "Don't blame me when you're wearing your ass for a hat, Mistress. Raiders like to do some fucked up shit to people..."
Sandra jogged down the hill, occasionally losing her balance and nearly falling. It didn't register that she was weak from hunger; all that mattered was the next adventure she and Charon would stumble upon, just like the good old days.
Along the road leading into the city, she spotted a small campsite. Four scavengers sat around a campfire, surrounded by collected goods that they'd looted from the nearby area; bags were overstuffed with scrap and pre-war foods, and on the ground were two assault rifles, a fat man, and the carcass of a hunted brahmin. The scavengers were cooking their meat over the fire and trading conversation. Suddenly, Sandra was tempted to rob them blind, the scent of tender brahmin meat alluring her like the song of a siren. When she raised her hand and reached for her gun, an exhausted breath escaped her, and Sandra fell face-first onto the concrete.
The scavengers turned their heads, examining her.
"We got us a live one," the leader said. It was a stocky, brown-haired man with a bearded jaw and a bearlike face. The big man marched over to Sandra and carried her to the campsite, gently laying her on his sleeping bag.
"Put me down, Charon... I'm fine..." Sandra moaned.
"Charon?" the big guy said. "I think yer a bit confused, lil' lady. My name's Hank."
Sandra blinked up at him, wanting more than anything to fall asleep.
On the other side, she saw Charon leaning over her as well. Charon was eyeballing Hank, but Hank didn't seem to notice Charon's presence at all.
"I'm not sharing my food with some random person," one of the scavengers snarled. "We're not taking on any more people, Hank. We can't afford to."
"Lookit her. She's on her last limb," Hank replied. "We couldn' just leave her, could we? We'll give her a bit to eat and send her on her way. Fair enough?"
Hank's three companions didn't argue with him.
So, Hank grabbed a brahmin-ka-bob and placed a hand on Sandra's back, helping her to sit up and placing the food in her hands. Sandra devoured it like a feral ghoul.
"I was right," Hank laughed. "She's hungry as hell."
"'Fanks," Sandra said between chews. "'Preciate it... thanks a lot..."
"Not a problem, lil' lady," Hank replied. "But you might wanna reconsider your travel plans. You don't wanna get anywhere near that city. We were camped a little closer a few days back, but we had to move. The dogs found us."
"Dogs...?" Sandra mumbled half-interestedly.
"Y'eap. They don't call it Dog City Denver for nothin'," Hank told her. "City's full of loot... but it's also full of dogs. Rabid dogs. They almost bit my ass off yesterday. We had to uproot and move away from the buildings. It's dangerous out there."
"Mm..." Sandra finished off her brahmin-ka-bob and licked the stick clean.
For the first time in what felt like years, her stomach was roaring with hunger again. When she looked around, Charon was nowhere to be seen.
"Water..." she said. "Please..."
"No," one of the scavengers - a skinny, sickly blonde - snapped at her. "We barely have enough water for ourselves. You're not getting any."
"She can have mine," Hank said, taking the canteen from his side and placing it in Sandra's hands.
Sandra upturned it and drank half the canteen before handing it back.
"You're a dumbass," the blonde yelled at Hank. "Why do you keep giving her stuff? We need our food and water! Fuck her!"
"Because I'm not a heartless ass-wipe, unlike the rest of y'all," Hank growled in response.
Hank reached his feet and jumped into a shouting match with his companions. As they argued, the dogs on Denver's outskirts perked their ears.
Sandra didn't care that they were arguing. She laid back on the sleeping bag, drifting asleep against her own will. Now, her body ached for more food, longed for more water. She felt the weight of her mortality returning to her, and she was almost certain that she'd die as soon as she closed her eyes... still... the idea of a long, peaceful sleep sounded wonderful right about now...
Hank and his companions didn't notice the pack of dogs marching out of the city - nor did they notice the crimson-clad army that was headed down the north road. Moments later, Hank raised his finger, motioning for his friends to hush, but none of them cared. They all continued screaming at him. The dogs drew closer. The Legion approached from the north; there must have been a hundred of them, all led by a dog-headed frumentarius.
Part of Sandra wanted to jolt fully awake, to do anything and everything she could to survive. Another part of her wanted to sleep... to shut her eyes and sleep forever...
Get up, Mistress.
"Fuck..." Sandra breathed. "I don't wanna..."
Yes you do. Get up. Now.
The dogs ran toward the scavenger and the Legion alike.
"Attack," the dog-headed frumentarius ordered his Legion. "Kill the animals and collect the profligates. Prepare your slave collars."
Many of the Legion warriors charged off to fight the dogs while the rest headed for Hank and his companions. The scavengers grabbed their weapons and ran across the street into battle. A bloodbath ensued.
The dog-headed frumentarius moved calmly through the battle, surveying the goods at the campsite. His eyes fell on the red-haired girl on the sleeping bag. She looked half-dead, but she was good stock. He took a slave collar from his belt and prepared to put it around her neck - then, a massive, patchy dog leaped onto Sandra's body, sinking its teeth into her leg, then her arm, then her stomach...
Sandra shot bolt upright, letting out a piercing scream.
Vulpes yanked the ripper from his side and forced it into the dog's skull. The blades zipped and shredded through the skin and bone, ripping the eyes from the skull of the dog. The dog yelped in pain, and Vulpes finished it off by dragging the ripper across its neck.
Sandra scrambled away, blood gushing from various parts of her. She stared up at Vulpes, wide-eyed and terrified.
"GO AWAY!" Sandra bellowed, raising her 44 magnum and firing three shots. Her hand trembled and her eyes refused to focus on her target; she couldn't aim. The shots missed Vulpes.
Hank and the scavvers fought the dogs and Legionaries across the street, and they were losing. It was difficult to tell whether the scavengers were losing to the Legion, or if the Legion was losing to the dogs. More rabid canines darted toward Sandra and Vulpes. The frumentarius grinned nastily at them, slashing his ripper and slaughtering the dogs with ease.
Sandra desperately crawled away, the sounds invading her thoughts, echoing in the back of her head. The screaming scavengers. The angry Legionaries. The yapping, snapping, foaming jaws of the dogs...
Her hands wrapped around the largest weapon within her reach. Sandra staggered to her feet, summoning the strength of Charon, Bryan, and her father, somehow mounting the fat man on her shoulder. Vulpes whipped around, his smile vanishing. He rushed at Sandra, hoping to stop her before-
Thwooo.
The fat man launched a mininuke over the street. The recoil wasn't much, but it was enough to make Sandra stumble backwards and drop the fat man. Before her was a magnificent explosion, blinding light, a shaking ground, limbs and blood flying amok... a hand coiled around her collar, steadying her upright before she could fall...
Sandra snapped her arms around Vulpes' head just in time; the force of the explosion caught up with them. Sandra's Pip-Boy shielded Vulpes' head; the screen shattered and the casing cracked. Both of them went flying, tumbling down the grassy hill. They hit a pile of rocks, Vulpes landing sprawled overtop of her.
Sandra lay unconscious amidst the rocks and rubble, her head oozing blood.
Vulpes stared at her for a while, each second extending into an eternity. This woman killed the others, killed the scavengers, killed his Legionaries... all on a whim...
"Fascinating," he whispered.
His eyes wandered down to her arm. The Pip-Boy was in shattered ruins; most of the casing was gone, as was the screen, leaving only a sleeve and bits of wires protruding from it. That device on her arm - she'd used it to shield him from the explosion. But why? Only moments ago, she was shooting at him. What made her want to protect him all the sudden?
Vulpes' body pulsated with pain, but he forced himself upright and marched up the hill with a limp, hoping to gauge the situation. As he expected, the battle was gone; all that remained was a gaping crater surrounded by the mangled body parts of his Legionaries, the Denver dogs, and the scavengers. A simple expedition to collect slaves had resorted to this... and all because of her. That girl - the girl lying half-dead on the sleeping bag - did this.
"She knew she wouldn't survive..." Vulpes muttered. "She wouldn't survive the dogs... and my Legion. She knew... so she..."
Vulpes stared at the smoldering crater for a moment, then headed down the hill and returned to Sandra. The girl was unconscious, wounded, and weak, but still breathing. Still alive.
Now, he'd have to make his way back to Caesar on his own. He'd have to explain how he lost an entire fleet of Legionaries, and he'd have to make a long trip across the wasteland by himself. Vulpes let out an angry sigh, storming down the road and preparing to make the long journey home.
He stopped.
Vulpes faced the girl again, a million thoughts racing through his mind. Would he leave her here? Would he take her back to the Legion in a slave collar? Would he slit her throat for slaughtering all of his Legionaries?
He stood stock still on the road for several minutes.
Then, Vulpes marched up to her, lifting her off the ground and carrying her off. The girl would make a good slave, he figured. She was stronger than most, and she wouldn't break under the oppression of the Legion like so many other women did. It made sense to salvage her from this otherwise pointless expedition.
For hours, he walked the road in silence as Sandra slept in his arms. When night began to fall, he stopped on the side of the road and removed his Legion gear, leaving only a tattered shirt and a worn pair of shorts. He'd have to trek through profligate territory in order to take the shortest route home, and he couldn't be wearing his Legion armor when he did. He lifted Sandra again and resumed his walk.
His leg ached and his muscles grew weaker, but he carried on.
It was midnight before he finally decided to stop again. Vulpes placed Sandra on the ground, and farther down the road, he spotted lights. Small, floating lanterns, carried by leather-armored guards. It was a profligate caravan, leading a wooden cart down the road. The cart was carrying at least five other profligates, and it was being pulled by two Brahmin. They were marching away, headed the same direction Vulpes had been.
Vulpes quickly lifted Sandra off the ground and speed-walked to catch up with the caravan. He'd ask them for a ride. He'd promise them payment, and when they let their guard down, he'd do away with them and take the cart for himself. He'd put the slave collar on Sandra and guide the cart to Caesar's camp. Yes. That was a good plan...
"Hey," Vulpes called out, making the guards spin around. "You all... where are you headed?"
"New Vegas," one of the guards replied. "What happened to you? You both look like you've been through hell."
"Yes," Vulpes agreed. "My friend, she... she's not doing well. Would you give us a ride? I'll pay you as soon as we get into town."
The guards grabbed the brahmins' ropes and yanked them to a stop. They spoke to the traveling profligates on the back of the cart, and then, one of the guards approached Vulpes.
"Alright, you can ride with us," the guard said. "How much can you pay us? I'm thinking about 50 caps. If you can't afford it, I'll be fine with 30."
Vulpes revealed a sick smile. "50 sounds just fine."
The guard helped Vulpes to lift Sandra into the carriage. Vulpes climbed in, and the caravan resumed its trip to Vegas.
The ride was quiet. Vulpes examined the passenger profligates, all of them wearing dirty rags, none of them armed. He looked to Sandra, wondering just how quickly he could snatch the combatshotgun from her back and murder everyone on this caravan. He'd wait for just the right moment. He'd shoot both of the guards in the back first and foremost, as they were the only two who were armed. Then, the rest of these profligates would become new slaves for Caesar's Legion. It was fool proof...
As time passed, the passengers began to fall asleep. Vulpes smiled. That would make it even easier to catch them by surprise.
When the last of the passengers fell asleep, Vulpes sprung into action. He yanked the shotgun from Sandra's body and opened fire. The first guard's head exploded into blood and tissue, and the second one jumped at the sound. Vulpes killed both of them before they could've hoped to fight back.
The passengers awoke in a screaming panic. Sandra didn't wake.
"Shut your worthless mouths!" Vulpes commanded, standing over them and pressing the gun into the nearest girl's forehead. "You all belong to Caesar's Legion now. Be grateful you didn't meet the same fate as your pitifully incompetent guards. Your lives actually have meaning now. Speak a prayer to Mars, you wretches. Thank him for your promotion."
The passengers huddled together, crying and whimpering.
Vulpes used one hand to keep the shotgun upright, reaching to his side with the other. His ripper was still on his person. He slipped it off his side and powered it on. The buzzing of the saw frightened the passengers even more. Vulpes laughed.
As he stood in the carriage, his gaze moved to the Mojave. The Vegas lights shone in the distance. He was dangerously close to the heart of enemy territory. It was time to move, to return to the Legion with his spoils.
Vulpes collected the guns from the dead guards. He stood before the cariage for a moment, hoping to draw up a plan. He only had one slave collar; he couldn't restrain all six of his prisoners with only one collar. So, he removed the ropes from the brahmin and tied them around the wrists of his captives. He connected all the ropes, keeping the slaves tied together in one long collection. None of them could run now.
He'd have to abandon the carriage. The brahmin wouldn't be able to pull it without the ropes.
Vulpes stared at Sandra, who was still sound asleep in the back of the carriage. He hadn't thought to tie her up. He'd neglected to put the slave collar on her.
The rest of the slaves were outside of the carriage now, all of them trying to stifle their sobs. Vulpes' eyes lingered on Sandra forever.
"Desperate to survive," he murmured. "I'm not sure I could keep you under wraps by myself."
Vulpes tossed Charon's shotgun into the carriage. It landed beside Sandra.
"Make something of your life, woman."
For the next five years, he carried out his Legion duties without question, never hesitating, never showing mercy. To this day, he didn't know why he left Sandra behind in that carriage. He didn't know why he spared her the fate of slavery, or why he'd decided against killing her. It was the only time during his serving of the Legion he'd ever shown any hint of mercy, and it would be the only instance of kindness he'd experience until the fall of Caesar.
He couldn't have known that he'd left the future ruler of New Vegas at the doorstep of her new empire.
"Wow..."
Sandra sat tiredly on the couch of her Freeside apartment, rubbing her neck where someone's laser had burned her. Vulpes was hunched into a recliner, his arms folded, his eyes refusing to meet anyone else's. Arcade was next to Sandra, listening intently until she finished her story about Denver.
"Now I understand..." Arcade said. "You two have a bit of history. Seems like you have a habit of crossing paths and saving each other's lives by accident."
"I didn't know what happened on that caravan," Sandra replied. "Not until Vulpes told me just now."
Vulpes grumbled under his breath. He had reluctantly filled in the gaps of her story, informing Arcade of everything that had happened while Sandra was unconscious.
"Awaiting judgment, doctor," Vulpes grumped. "Go on. Go on and tell me how wicked of a person I am for taking all those captives. I can't wait to hear it."
Arcade blinked at him. "That was five years ago. A lot has changed since then."
Sandra and Vulpes stared at him. Both of them expected Arcade to reply with a lecture about how evil slavery was, but he didn't seem interested in starting an argument.
"So that's what happened in Denver..." Arcade said. "That puts everything in perspective."
"Arcade..." Sandra muttered, leaning forward and observing him. "Are you... are you okay with this? With him being here..."
Arcade shifted his focus from Sandra to Vulpes.
"He's been by your side since I left," Arcade said. "I was almost positive that he wouldn't be around when I came to see you again. He surprised me."
Sandra and Vulpes watched Arcade closely, waiting for his answer.
"Well..." Arcade sighed. "I think we need all the allies we can get right now. So... if you think he's a good ally, I'll defer to your judgment, Sandra."
"You're staying with me, then, right?" Sandra smiled.
Arcade nodded.
Sandra wrapped her arms around him and trapped him in a hug.
"Come on," she said, standing upright and wincing at the stinging pain in her leg. She pulled Arcade to his feet. "We've got a lot to do now."
"Where are we going?" Arcade asked.
Sandra looked between Arcade and Vulpes.
"There's a storm coming," she said. "We've all gotta be ready when it does."
THE END
To be continued in the third and final installment, Clash of Two Wastelands