Chapter 51: Best Laid Plans
New California Wasteland
Boredom dulled the senses. That was what the instructor told Callus every day while he was a trainee. On and off the battlefield, to be aware of ones surroundings was to give one the edge they seeked over their opponents, regardless of whomever they were. While an NCR trooper would see something like a routine patrol as an opportunity to daydream or keep his guard lax, a legionary would remain focused at all times. A Frumentarii even moreso. Callus alone had to have killed over a dozen such troopers throughout the Mojave alone because of his focus. Thankfully, today would be no different, as he was alerted to the stranger's presence long before the she had noticed.
Ordering his four men to a halt, Callus allowed the strange woman and eye-bot to approach them. As she came close, Callus fought back that nagging sense of familiarity from his mind, bringing up his current alias.
"Howdy, ma'am. I'm Sgt. Connors, 3rd platoon, 2nd company, 5th battalion," he began, proudly. "What can I do ya for?"
The woman panted slightly, before rubbing her leg brace. Injured. Easy to neutralize.
"T-thanks, soldier. I was wondering if I was going to meet anyone here. I'm… um… I'm a drifter. I'm trying to find a friend of mine."
Callus gave out a friendly smile. "Just give me all the information you've got, and I'll see what I can do."
"She's a young woman. Small. Asian, too. She has hair down to her shoulders and wears glasses; also she has a tunic and overalls. She… she might be fighting off Med-x withdrawal, if that helps any," the young woman described.
"Sounds like a catch," Callus laughed. "How did you lose her?"
"We… we got separated. I think some raiders jumped her. Please, anything you can do for her would be awesome," the woman continued, stressed beyond her mind.
"C… Sergeant, a word," one of his "corporals" whispered to him. Allowing a "private" to take over the questioning, Callus joined his comrade away from the girl.
"Do you realize who that is?" Anglos asked.
"Some drifter, no?" Callus answered.
"That is one of the Courier's pet bitches. Veronica something-or-other," Anglos answered.
A dawning sense of recognition crashed over Callus. He remembered seeing the Courier's entourage once at Fortification Hill, right before Caesar had been murdered. It had consisted of an eyebot, a familiar looking cyber-dog, and two women. He knew he had recognized her from somewhere.
So, half of Lars's first harem had found itself in his company? Lanius had been explicit about avoiding Vegas for the near future. But with one of his closest associates so close to him already, and with Lars in no position whatsoever to stop him or avenge his friend, it was too tempting an opportunity.
One thing was for sure, though. She was absolutely not going to make it back to Fort Tandi alive. A woman of such beauty was desirable, truly, but she had also been responsible for the murder of several of their brothers, lead Praetorian Lucius not least among them. Besides, Titus already had his hands full with the other one.
"…Kill her now. We can take her head back and scrap the machine," he chuckled softly. Anglos grinned in anticipation as well, nodding as he turned towards the woman who finished describing her friend.
"Don't you worry your head, ma'am," Callus smiled that condescending smile of his. "We'll make sure the Legion haven't hurt your friend any."
Veronica stared at him. "…I never said anything about the Legion. All I said was that she was taken by… raiders…"
The five humans and eye-bot all stood there, so quietly you could hear a gnat shit. When someone broke the silence, it was Callus. "…Well, shit…"
The silence was followed by an explosion of motion. Veronica immediately lunged downwards, slamming her pneumatic gauntlet into the ribcage of the nearby "private," splintering his bones through his organs. The eye-bot shot out an electrical surge that brought another "private" to his knees, before Anglos tackled the eye-bot and threw off its aim. Veronica then cycled towards Callus, just in time to feel a sharp sting whizz by her cheek, looking up to see the muzzle flash from the Frumentarii's weapon. She ducked again, but this time pain shot through her still crippled leg. The white flash blinded her as she looked up just in time for see the stock of Callus's weapon collide with her forehead. Falling on her back, Veronica winced in pain as she felt Callus's boot slam her swinging arm to the ground. She looked to find herself staring down the business end of an assault rifle. Callus grinned wildly as he fingered the trigger. Before he could finish the act, though, he could not resist one final taunt. "Don't be too sad. At least you haven't seen what we've done to your friend!" And with that, Callus was violently ripped off Veronica's body and thrown into the air.
As Veronica wondered just what had happened, a familiar looming shape towered over her. "I leave you for a day and this is what happens? You really are helpless without me."
"Johnny!" Veronica exclaimed. "I've never been so happy to see you! Actually, come to think of it, I've never been happy to see you. But you're back!"
It was in this moment that another deathclaw entered Veronica's line of sight, this one slobbering over her like a piece of rancid meat. Johnny, for his part, slammed his skull into the other deathclaw, hissing violently as the interloper backed off.
"What the hell?" Veronica asked.
"I'll explain… actually, let me show you," Johnny said. Veronica rose to see something that she had never imagined she would ever see in her travels in the wasteland. Before "Sgt. Connor" fell back to earth, two ravenous deathclaws had caught his body, playing a violent game of tug-of-war with their screaming wishbone until his body gave out. Another deathclaw had grabbed the leg of the "private" she had wounded in its mouth and was currently slamming his body against the ground until he stopped screaming. The tasered legionary was being fought over by several pack-members until a large female settled the matter by swallowing the entire body in one gulp. Finally, ED-E and the corporal were both being chased by a small gang of pack-members, the eye-bot's wild chirps drowned out by the screaming legionary still holding onto him.
"Johnny… are these the same deathclaws that…"
"He who kills the Alpha becomes the Alpha," Johnny proudly bellowed.
"…Neat?" Veronica skeptically answered. "Are they… uh…"
"Oh, you? I've marked you as my personal prey. You are mine to be eaten at my leisure." Johnny leaned closer to Veronica. "Between you and me, I don't think these ones understand the concept of keeping pets," he whispered.
"I am not… look, that's not important. I'm glad for you Johnny, really, but I need you to make that other guy their chasing your personal prey too."
"What's so special about him?" Johnny asked.
"I've got to ask him some questions…"
MBAS Javelin
Paladin Julius sat back in his command chair, watching as the various scribes and technicians went about their duties throughout the bridge. Though he gave no outward sign of it, Julius felt like beaming. All his years of service, and he was finally rewarded with commanding a third of Barnaky's personal attack force. Granted, it was a position he shared with that brute Thex, but it mattered little to the up and coming paladin. It beat babysitting Brendan, at any rate.
A young scribe saluted him as she approached him. "Paladin, we've managed to cross the Utah border into Arizona."
"That is good. Keep me posted when we finally reach Nevada," Julius answered. So, they were finally in the heart of Legion territory? Julius had served two tours guarding the Brotherhood's Colorado territory from those barbarians. What they lacked in technological prowess, they made up for in dedication and resilience. Julius wanted to laugh. How was prowess and dedication supposed to bring down an airship?
It was as Lanius had anticipated. The route of the airship would take them past this hill. He watched as the great airship approached the hilltop. Behind him, he could hear the crate drop to the ground. As the centurions broke it open, Lanius observed which part of the ship would be the most vulnerable. By the time he made up his mind, his centurion had handed him the missile launcher.
Five hundred men. His airship carried with him five hundred brotherhood troopers from all walks of life, in addition to the twenty or so paladins under his command. Barnaky had told him that their mission was to rescue and relieve a west coast brotherhood chapter. The Lost Hills Elders had branded them heretics, along with the Brotherhood contingent based out in DC. It was laughable, really. Despite their differences, both his branch and their easternmost brothers had cast aside some of the most self-destructive practices that the original BoS had latched onto. Their numbers swelled while Lost Hills dwindled. Soon, the Midwestern BoS would once again be able to… govern over large swaths of the continent, while the Lost Hills Elders entombed themselves underground, withering and dying of their own volition. Having the "heretics" augment themselves with yet another compliment of West Coast "loyalists" was another chunk of spittle on the face of those who banished them. This time, Julius allowed a smug grin to cross his face, just in time for a loud bang to rattle the bridge.
Lanius wasted little time admiring his handiwork. One of the aft propellers was currently belching smoke, but there was no way to tell if his attack merely scratched the vessel or crippled it. Nonetheless, not taking his eyes off the craft, he wordlessly motioned for a legionary to supply him with another missile.
"Status report! What happened? Did we malfunction? Get me an answer, dammit!" Julius screamed over the warning alarms.
"Sir, aft thruster number six is smoking! Propulsion valves 5 and 16 are loosing coolant, and we're losing altitude! Reaver maintenance is requesting an emergency landing so they can properly diagnose the problem!" a communications officer barked back.
"In Legion territory? No! Increase pressure on all propellers, orders a repair crew to repair the defective prop manually, and increase altitude now! We aren't crashing this thing until we reach Nevada!" Julius howled.
"Sir! We can't repair the damage until we can assess what happened! We don't know if a crow flew into the intake system or if we've been attacked!"
"An attack is impossible! The propellers are armor plated! You mean to tell me that someone all the way out here is capable of hitting the support prop of a moving target?"
His screaming fit was interrupted by yet another blast and rattle. The communications officer pressed her headset again; her face turning from worried to horrified. "We've lost aft thruster number three! We're going down!"
Lanius watched the great craft slowly descend towards the ground with a grim sense of satisfaction. He turned towards his new recruits, nodding as they began revving their engines. As the airship plowed front first into the ground, the motorcycles sped down the hill towards their prey. The great craft may have been bristling with weapons, but it was built for transport, not combat. The Brotherhood had built these craft to avoid conflict with his Legion at any cost. With that in mind, if Lanius's theory was correct, that would make the interior of that hard shell that much more vulnerable. All Tanner and his underlings need do was find the right crack in the hull, and Lanius would be able to satiate his appetite.
"Damage report! Give me a headcount! Give me an update now!" Julius barked.
The poor comm officer listened in on her headset, trying to stop the ringing in her ears as the bad news kept coming and coming. "Official estimate count us at seventeen fatalities and fifty-some wounded. Crews are double-timing repair efforts, but I'm not counting on us being airborne until nightfall. Paladin Julius, I strongly recommend we use the distress beacon."
Julius groaned. His first command and it had been undermined before it had even begun. He could already imagine the looks on General Barnaky and Battlemaster Thex's faces as they arrived to pick him and his force up like some truant schoolchild. He could already hear Brendan's laughter.
"Paladin! Come in!" a voice squawked over the radio. "We're being attacked!"
Julius scrambled for the radio, picking up the communicator as he fumbled for the transmitter.
"Deck officer, what is your status?"
"Some marauders have begun attacking one of the hull breaches! They're firebombing the work crews! Our defenses are out of commission, and we cannot repel them from the inside!"
Julius felt the color drain from his face. More then just attacking the work crews, whatever attack was happening on the Javelin was more then just an opportunistic raid. After a violent crash like this, there would undoubtedly be a plethora of volatile gasses emitting all throughout the carcass of the airship. A single errant Molotov hitting the right gas leak would destroy the entire craft! Whoever brought them to the ground had known exactly what to do.
"Order an evacuation immediately! Grab only the most necessary equipment, and only what you can carry! Set the distress beacon to maximum before you leave! Once we've gotten a safe enough distance away from the airship, set up a defensive perimeter immediately!
Lanius watched the ants file out as the fires inside the airship grew larger and larger. Lanius had fought on the Colorado border many times, and was not surprised by the force before him. It was mostly made up of tribals and militia, both human and ghoul, press-ganged into joining the so-called "Midwestern Confederacy." Their armaments varied, as did their training, so much so that the only consistent threat among them were the twenty "warriors" in power armor. Lanius hoped that his men would leave them be so he could personally best each and every one.
He turned behind him to see the fortuitous cohort that joined him. Hundreds of men, all eager and willing to fight at his command. When compounded by the reinforcements he had sent Gaius and Vulpes to collect, he would teach this interloping force just why those north of Colorado feared coming down south. Lanius let out a wild howl, charging down the hillside as his men followed on his heels.
Lake Mead
Sybil sat at the shore of the lake, her toes enjoying the sensation of warm sand between them as she relaxed under the sunlight. Her little excursion that had been intended for a bath had become a nice long swim. The cool water and the warm sun would do her good, after all. Still, she was famished. It came as no surprise that she was eating more and more these days. Indeed, it was to be expected.
As she gathered up her clothes and readied to head back to check her long pork stew, she stopped. It felt as if several waves from different directions all started to rush towards her. In her mind's eye, she could make out the forms.
In the east, fire and steel clashed together, fueled by pride. So, it appeared that Lanius had finished lamenting her absence, she sneered.
In the south, ambition and loyalty looked to overpower madness and genius. For a brief moment, she could see the faint image of the Dragon-man engaged in battle with a crimson-haired warrior, the both of them inflicting the most grievous of wounds on one another as they battled atop the gate of the apocalypse.
Then, she looked west, and saw monsters. Long fangs and claws gleaned in the night as they beset their victims with an unnatural degree of ferocity. The bloodbath was so stark and severe; Sybil found herself wondering just what they had done to deserve it.
Finally, she saw the currents. Three current, all heading towards the same point. Towards the city of light. Towards her. A massive howl seemed to shake the earth around her. As she tried to steady her feet, she saw a massive abomination rise out of the water, its shaggy fur glistening as its acidic slobber dripped down its fangs. On top of it, a ragged man rested on its head, glaring at her with an intensity she had never felt before. The pressure felt as if the entire ocean landed on top of her, and her body could not withstand the pressure. No, she hissed at herself, you must bring yourself to survive! If not for yourself, then for…
A magnum shot rang out in the air. The two adversaries broke apart like wisps of smoke. As Sybil found her breath again, a deep, growling voice spoke. "You will know what your role is when it comes time to play it. Not before. Now go home, Sybil."
Sybil woke from her dream as she began it, feeling the warm sand between her toes. Wiping the blood under her nose, Sybil gathered up her clothing and began her trek back to Camp Golf. If there was one thing that she had learned when she began delving into the currents of time and possibility, it was this; one does not argue with the Mysterious Stranger.
Back in the New California Wasteland
"Talk, damn you," Veronica snarled as her ungloved fist hit Anglos in the teeth. The legionary spit up some blood, but that was all he was giving up. "What did he mean, "what you've done to my friend?" I need you to talk, so talk!" she snarled.
"If you think… you can do anything to me that will scare me, you're dumber then I thought, she-bitch" the legionary spat, defiantly.
Rather then be insulted, Veronica whistled for Johnny to come to her. As he did, he leaned down and opened his mouth. Veronica dragged the hapless legionary towards his jaws, placing his arm inside the cavernous mouth. Johnny then clamped down, just enough so that Anglos's arm "rested snuggly" between four of his fangs. Anglos screamed and tried to pull out.
"Tell me where my friend is, and I'll try to convince him not to eat you piece by piece," Veronica hissed, watching with twisted glee as the sweat began running down his forehead.
"S-S-She's at Fort Tandi! We took it over after we entered California! Gabben runs it!"
Veronica's stomach sank. Fort Tandi was one of the most vital points of defense for the NCR in the wasteland. It was a hop and a skip away from the capitol, for the Codex's sake. And her friend was right in the middle of it, surrounded by men who cared little for what a woman could do other then… oh, god…
"What did you do to her?" Veronica hissed, trying to quell her disgust with her anger.
"You'd have to ask Titus. Most of the guys wanted to turn her into a brood mare, but Titus has been keeping her to himself," Anglos answered, his fear making bringing out his honesty like nothing in this world ever had.
Whoever this Titus was, Veronica wanted him dead more then she had ever wanted anyone.
"So she's his own personal pet, it that what you're saying?" Veronica spat in disgust.
Anglos laughed nervously. "By the time he's done with her, I don't think there will be anything left to keep. From what I gathered, Titus hates her father more then he wants to lay with a woman. Judging from the sounds I heard coming from the basement, I don't think she'll ever be lucky enough to be anyone's bed-slave!"
Veronica couldn't look at him any longer. She turned away, not wanting him to see her tears. "…He's all yours, Johnny."
A quick snap almost snuffed out the screams before they began, with flesh ripping and bones snapping as Johnny ripped apart his prisoner. Veronica paid no heed to that, instead walking up to ED-E, embracing his floating inedible frame for what little warmth it could provide, listening as it chirped sympathetically.
Soon enough, the lumbering lizard came over to join her. "Veronica, I… I know I've never been very fond of Weepy. I understand that you are fond of the woman, but… I don't know what you can do for her. There are far too many armed humans for you to handle yourself, and even if you could, it sounds as if it's already to late for her."
Veronica said nothing, even as Johnny continued. "Also, I have something of a responsibility now, for my pack. I need to see that they are provided for. I'm not willing to sacrifice my lizards just so you can save your weak, useless friend. Uhm, no offense intended," he added, apologetically.
"…I can get them food," Veronica said, finally. Johnny perked his ears up.
"…Didn't you hear him? A whole base filled with humans, who no one is going to miss. You help me find her, they are all yours," she offered.
"Veronica, I… I appreciate your offer, but attacking that base directly would kill most of us, and we wouldn't even be able to breach the gates. They'd shoot us the moment we entered their line of sight!"
Veronica wanted to argue with him, but a roll of thunder put pay to her thoughts. She remembered that conversation at that lonely café. That she'd have everything she would need by nightfall. Looking at the black storm clouds approaching the pack, the faint idea of a plan started forming itself in her mind.
"…Your pack will get its food, I'll get my friend, and we'll both never see each other again after this, Johnny. Deal?" she asked, holding out her hand. Johnny quizzically looked her over, before realizing what she was trying to do. Gingerly, he extended a single claw towards her palm, shaking it up and down in agreement. The pack, having surrounded their leader and his personal prey, watched the little ceremony with lazy curiosity and detached indifference. When their leader ordered them to follow him towards the storm, however, they did so without question.
HISTORY OF THE STRONGHOLD: FENG JIASHENG'S JOURNEY: PART THREE
During Feng Jiasheng's journey throughout the ruins of the Peoples Republic, he came across the ruins of a city called Xian, home to a tribe of survivalists besieged by packs of mutated cannibals. According to reports, Jiasheng bested the largest and most violent of these cannibals in combat, cowing the rest into submission at his display of prowess. The leader of the survivalist tribe, in appreciation for his deed, offered the hand of his daughter to the young traveler. Though Jiasheng (as well as the daughter) protested, they both found themselves wed that very night. From that day forward until the day she died, Feng Jiasheng and Fan Xixi stayed together.
And that's the end of that. Contest is still on going. Seriously, you guys are spread out though at least four continents; at least a few of you have to have some kind of opinion, right?
Side note: would any of you happen to be Berserk fans?
