And then there suddenly appeared before me
The only one my arms will hold
I heard somebody whisper please adore me
And when I looked the moon to the moon it turned to gold
Blue Moon…
Max bopped her head slightly to the old world melody, smiling slightly at the radio next to her bed. Those who came before may have nuked the world to hell, and left the survivors to fend for themselves in the wastes… but they did leave some pretty killer songs behind, didn't they? Well, it didn't quite make up for the centuries of misery but it did entertain her while she was still bed-ridden.
"Nice song, huh? It's my favorite bit of the old world." Emma, who was sitting next to the bed, glanced appreciatively at the little device she bought to the ward.
"You've got a bit of a romantic soul, Emma." Teased Max, turning her attention to her friend. The older woman shrugged.
"Oh, you thought I was… a military hardass or something? Nah," She scoffed a little when Max shook her head, obviously meaning to back off. "Relax, I'm amused more than anything. Yeah, I don't look like much of a poet at a glance but it's coz I can't really wax about songs and the likes while out in the Mojave. But it should be safe, here. We're in the heart of the NCR's presence in New Vegas and all." Max nodded slightly and gave a slight glance around her, contemplating the concourse.
Because of space, the medical area had one corner of the room for itself, with a dozen beds currently occupied by several soldiers, including her. From her position, she could see the dining tables, where many soldiers were struggling to eat up the food, and even her original bunk, thankfully unoccupied yet. The young woman wasn't too eager to return to it though. The medical beds were comfy, at least as comfy as they could be given the means and available tools.
"How are you feeling? I didn't want to point it out at the time but, huh, your nose…"
" said that he'd have an easier time piecing together a shattered vase but he pulled through," Max moved her hand to touch her bandaged nose but relented. Kemp had clearly explained that it'd take a few more days to properly heal even after being put together and that she best avoid touching it too much. "I can at least smell the food I eat, which is… good progress, I think. It still hurts to breathe a little but the marks are gone and it's not painful anymore when I shift in position a bit, so it seems like the Stimpacks came in handy. I should be sleeping back in my bunk in one day."
"Wow, you had to be beaten up bad to stay bed-ridden for four days! Erm, not that I find that fun."
Max took a deep breath. She was oddly appreciative of being able to do that with minimal injury, after days of feeling like someone was raking her throat with every breath. "It's alright. I… I don't think I'd have been that beaten up if I remembered your advice. But in the midst of all of that violence, I… Well, kinda forgot."
"It's my fault for not ensuring you were with me, really, "Assured Emma, a remorseful look in her eyes. "… But well, you survived that. And you're stronger than before now. The first wounds are always the harshest, but they'll toughen you up. And hey, if you want to learn more about fighting up close in case it happens again, I'll be there!" Max chortled a little at that.
"I'm not even out of the hospital though!"
"Heh, yeah… But with those shooting skills, eventually, you'll get to kill most folks before they get too close. You're no First Recon but you shoot well. Much better than the average trooper, for sure."
"I'm not that good. A lot of the time, it was…" She vividly remembered the gushing blood and screaming of men and women torn apart by bullets. "Well, I had backup."
"Sure, but you hit that one Khan and stunned him well enough for the others to pick up. Hitting headshots from miles away is cool and all, but a bullet to the hip or chest will fuck up anyone too. And you can land those," Emma looked up at the roof, pondering. "With the proper gear and training, I could see you sporting a little red beret and cooly ending lives before they even notice you. Wouldn't that be neat?"
"I kinda thought of becoming a soldier to earn a living for my family and see the world," Shrugged Max. "I don't see myself becoming a Lieutenant, let alone First Recon. Aren't these guys the best of the best?"
"You gotta have some faith in yourself, Max, and ambition too!" Emma smacked herself in the chest with her fist, and Max winced, feeling her own bones reverberate from the impact." You'll earn much more as a member of that squad if that's what matters to you, and there's a ton of little nests for you to set up. And the job requires you not to get up close and personal, anyway."
The young woman pondered briefly at that. She'd thought of earning a living and eventually retiring without rising in the ranks but the glory was tempting. She wasn't one to seek fanfare and adoration but making a name out of herself and not solely being her father's daughter in the eyes of some folks seemed great! Well, there was the basic idea of First Recon, killing people, but that idea had already settled in well enough for her. Standing Stone had taught her enough about showing too much mercy and emphasizing with enemies who would never be as generous. "… You make it tempting," She smiled slightly at her friend. "Maybe if the general thing doesn't work you, you could be a recruiter?"
"I'll be general, don't ya worry!" Emma got up from her seat with a laugh. "Recruiters are charismatic folks who roam around the city talking to people. That's boring! I want to spend my life-fighting folks in the desert. Riding around cobbled-up cars shooting at troops of Legionaries and Paladins 'till my hair turns grey. And when that happens… Well geez, I'd rather die gloriously than merely waste away, so I'll keep doing that even as an old woman. Imagine how humiliating it'd be for them! Slaughtered by a granny!"
"I think you won't have that kind of freedom as a general though! You're going to be fighting paperwork, not legionaries!"
"Well, I'll change that. I'll use human blood as ink!" They both chuckled, but Max's was a little bit more awkward. Somewhere, she knew that a particular side of Emma was totally honest with that sentence. "Duty calls, so I'll see ya later. Maybe if I'm unlucky enough, I'll get to be the next soldier on that bed!"
"Kick their asses, Em!" The two women nodded at one another and Emma turned around, pointedly keeping the radio on. Max carefully kept her smile on until she was sure that her friend had left the room and slumped in her bed, a forlorn look on her face. There was still the music, the chatter of the soldiers in the room, and the occasional dialogue with the other bed-ridden soldiers or doctor but more often than not she absolutely loathed being alone for too long. The talking… distracted her from some fairly bad thoughts that she had troubles chasing away when left on her own. But she hadn't bothered to tell her friends out of fear that they'd feel guilty while off to "work".
"You're a grown woman, Max. Especially with two fights under your belt. You can handle some harsh memories, right? No need to burden them with everything." She thought to herself, slinking further into her gurney. By tomorrow, she was expected to be back on duty, so it'd be a return to the violent fights that sent her here, to begin with. Awakened as she was to her earlier naivety, the brown-haired youth just couldn't imagine having to fight so soon after recovering. The screams and gunfire of one fight were already echoing somewhere in her mind, what it'd look like after several more of them?
Well, it could be resolved later. Instead of constantly worrying, Max should better spend her final day on the gurney resting! It'd help the mind to heal, and that'd help the body as well. As Blue Moon entered its climax, the young woman closed her eyes and attempted to drift to sleep by thinking of jumping Brahmins leaping over a kneeling Caesar.
She shuddered as malice-filled eyes appeared over her, glaring daggers through her. When Max Doleetle finally fell asleep, it was with much greater difficulty than she envisioned.
…
Emma walked out of the concourse and back into the main building quickly, easily avoiding the soldiers that were running around in between the sections of the buildings. Poor privates or other low-ranking soldiers tasked with carrying important, critical, game-changing documents or objects to a superior's office immediately, finding themselves confused because of the other soldiers with important matters to deliver to more competent hands in very little time. She had respect for their tasks, but the soldier nonetheless used the rushing horde as a bit of a training exercise, almost blindly walking into the core of it to better amplify the difficulty of her task.
She'd move her barely just barely out of the way. Would lean in, lean back, sometimes jump, or simply step to the side but Emma never left anyone simply hit her. It was a point of pride: If she couldn't avoid a panicky private with no sense of direction, then she would not be able to dodge Caesar's various dogs in battle. Had Max been there, the young soldier would've been trained like that too, but Emma suspected that the less experienced newcomer would get swarmed by the numbers. And with her condition, that means that the test was out of the question.
The young woman eventually moved to a ledge overlooking the rest of the concourse, where various soldiers were watching the stream of troopers go by. Some then took their chances and walked into the crowd to get somewhere they needed to be. Others, with more free time on their hands, or perhaps less boldness, awaited for the swarm to lessen. Curiously, this seemed to be the case of Nolan, who was leaning against the railing. The soldier nodded to Emma as she completed her little dancing to reach him, even bothering to clap in admiration of what she had done. With a smirk, the soldier did a twirl and then advanced to stand next to Nolan, observing the mess below.
"You're out of the infirmary already, heh? I thought you'd taken a bullet," She glanced his way after some seconds of silence (as much silence as one could afford with the rush everywhere around them) and smiled teasingly. "… And you'd want to keep Max some company too."
"Well, according to Kemp, it was only a matter of taking the bullet out and letting a Stimpak do the…" Nolan paused for two seconds before coughing to break the silence. "… the rest. He wasn't really happy about it, said I'd need more time to rest and all, but the brass told him that I'm healed as soon as the bullet's out of my body, so he had to make due. It doesn't matter too much to me though. It's not my first time getting lead out of my body and besides, it'll give me a cool scar. Also yes, I'd wish I could've been there more for her, but that's because she's pretty sensitive and I'm not sure that she's dealing well with everything that went down!" He concluded, a bit more emotive.
"Yeah, but that's how you get your bearings. She's hesitant right now, but give her some time and that'll settle down. That trauma will become fuel for her to get stronger. It'll give her the… determination not to lose a fight again, see? Soon as she's up on her feet, I'll give her some more training and she'll get used to it."
He raised an eyebrow. "I don't think mental trauma makes you stronger, Emma."
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Simply replied the black-haired woman. "We all had that post-kill epiphany in the wastes, see? That moment where we wonder if we did something wrong, how it could've gone differently… Max sneed to be shaken up a bit more! Shady Sands cuddled her up too much, so she's not innately sharp. Trust me, when we'll be getting back from the mission tonight, she'll have that fire to learn more. And anyhow, you could always visit her, ya know?" Emma nodded to the entrance of the concourse. "You simply gotta get past that swarm of troopers and you're all good. It'll get you back in the groove too!"
"I'd love to, but speaking of the mission…" He pointed down, and Emma noticed that Lieutenant Deacon was standing tall below, as a bunch of troopers gathered around him. They walked with their heads high and held their weapons well, a promising enough sight. "Well, looks like I'm going to have to fight that crowd after all. You coming with me?"
"Nah. I already did my exercise!" Before Nolan could put up a reply, Emma grabbed the railing and jumped over it with a swift motion to skip the stairs and instead land a few feet from the Lieutenant. The bombastic nature of her arrival naturally made him turn towards her, and so she immediately stood up straight after her landing to salute. "Private Varzi, present!"
"What the fuck, Emma?!" Yelled Nolan from above. Deacon smiled appreciatively at that.
…
Those weren't conscripted farmers or teenagers ripped away from their families, Emma thought. The troopers that Deacon had gathered around him, while they hadn't yet shown their prowess at fighting, were tall, fit and their weapons were clean. Even equipped with custom parts for some, like a scope or a bigger magazine. Most likely specialists or even first-class, well on their way to becoming sergeants and above. Whatever mission Deacon planned had to be tough, or else he wouldn't be handpicking his entourage. This was reassuring enough for her ego: If she was in this unit, then it meant that her previous efforts had been noticed. All that mattered now was not disappointing the Lieutenant, and following his lead. So far, this involved exiting McCarran and walking west, close to the wall.
"Soldiers, we're going to be hunting fiends today," Began Deacon, not glancing back at his troops to better focus on the road ahead. She couldn't blame him when an attack could befall them at the slightest moment. "And not those, by the way. Though I guess you wouldn't mind lighting up the group waiting to ambush us, right here." He pointed to a ruined building on the right, but the soldiers' attention had snapped to it before he had even begun to speak. Those on the left didn't even bother to grab their guns, confident that their colleagues would dispatch the threat. Emma and the others did not leave them down, immediately raising their weapons and firing a couple of times at the armed junkies insight. The first little burst of bullets took down the Fiends, while the second finished them off if the chems would keep them alive long enough to reach for a weapon.
This done, the soldiers calmly reloaded and turned their attention to the lieutenant again, though they kept an outward eye for threats. "After the battle of Boulder City, I've spread some skillful spies over the place. So many Khans deep in NCR territory had to mean that something was up, after all, and I didn't want any surviving Khan to return home," The soldiers kept quiet, knowing that the mission would involve more than gunning down Khans again. "… They found evidence that there's Legionaries abound near McCarran, led by a Centurion at that." None of them expressed their surprises openly, but a few soldiers, Emma included, raised an eyebrow.
"This deep as well? Were the Khans planning a meeting with them?"
"We'll have to learn it from the Centurion himself, once we're done capturing him, that is." Spoke Deacon, smirking slowly as his soldiers realized what was in store for them. "He's been hauled up in some abandoned cave below a nearby bridge. We're going to raid it, capture him, and get a lot of precious information on what's that bald maniac and his sycophants are planning for us."
"Sir, with all due respect, should we try to capture a Centurion with our current squad?" Asked Emma. She was quite sure that Deacon had a good plan, and would gladly follow on it if it was sound enough, but a good soldier is ready to ask questions if needed. Some would argue about this, but it'd allow Deacon to exposit further on his plans. Besides, you cannot go up in the hierarchy by being a bootlicker! Speaking when you think it is necessary and asking questions, so long as it remains respectful, shows a desire to be more than a mindless trooper, who goes along with whatever is told of her even when that may not be so sound. "They are good warriors, likely to be surrounded by veterans legionaries. It would be better to mobilize more troops to fight them off."
"I've already informed Ranger Pason of this. The location of the Centurion is close to Camp Delta after all. His soldiers aren't… the most experienced, but a good bit of war will help out with that," He glanced at Emma. "I know what Centurions are, soldier, but I see no point in throwing warm bodies at the enemy. A thousand of our troopers die every year, why should we sacrifice more of them to fish out a centurion? You're all competent soldiers or have been recommended by competent soldiers in the past," He glanced at Nolan's way, and a few other soldiers. "I will fight quality with quality, it's as simple as that. You have hold shown premise against the Khans or other enemies, allow me to see how well you fare against the biggest threat to our presence in those warped lands, will you? To your right, four Fiends." A few defiant screams quickly turn into horrified ones as the would-be ambushers are shot down by controlled bursts of bullets.
Their bodies join the rest of the corpses down there. Apparently, McCarran would go through the effort of removing Fiend corpses in the earlier days of the war to spare some newcomers the sight and smell, but more Fiends would pop out and ambush those in charge of removing them. While the locations near the gates were kept clean, there still were a lot of dead junkies there and there. For instance, the Fiends that she and the squad had killed on the final stretch to the camp were still there for all to see. Being left beneath the cruel sun of the Mojave had done very little wonder to the corpses. The sight and stench alone prompted some of those tough soldiers to look away in disgust or gag.
Emma instead threw her head backward and smelled some of that good Wasteland aroma. Dead people smell kept her sharp, funnily enough. It reminded her that every day she spent further living on was a small triumph over the Wastes. "… Speaking of these fiends. You said we'd hunt for them, right?"
"Yes. Our patrol will be clearing out Fiends. That's what I told the rest of the brass bar Hsu," The military man did a derisive grimace. "They'd try to stop that if they could, and instead send you patrolling near that damn Vault to have one of the nastier Fiends ambush you. To his credit, Hsu grilled me for questions. Then checked for my previous accomplishments there and there. Then he asked me again and concluded I could try this. Capturing a high-ranking Legionary like that, especially after I provided proofs of his presence, is something that he sees the use in accomplishing. This means that officially, we're patrolling for Fiends. But in truth, we'll be visiting that bridge near the food shop. There's a little entrance where they could be hiding. Apparently, Legion Assassins use those to move around and better reach someone that Caesar hates, but they can be used by regular Legionaries if they need to hide. It'll be tough to charge in with those conditions."
"I've got access to my flashbangs. I only used one back at Boulder City." She figured it would be easy to simply toss some grenades in there and watch the body parts scatters all over that little bunker, but the orders were to take the Centurion alive, meaning that this particular fantasy would remain unaccomplished today. As if silently answering, some of the other soldiers tapped on their pouches, revealing that she wasn't alone in her ownership of those. They had seen a lot of use in the war against the Brotherhood when it was time to storm bunkers. For all their fancy technology, even Paladins reeled at the sudden sight and sound, leaving them open to be swarmed before those powerful energy weapons of theirs could see use. It wasn't the most glorious of strategies, but it was decently effective.
It's what made the NCR army great, in Emma's eyes. Sure, they fought in leather clothes, wielded service rifles much weaker than even the Gauss Pistols that those techno-sectists carried around and their flesh and blood were not altered by a potent virus… But the Republic still won because they knew that and resorted to tried-and-true methods of warfare instead of relying solely on advanced technology. Facing down stuff that could split a small house apart in good condition, they still won through grit and the use of old yet effective tactics to make up for the power difference. All the soldiers at that time were born in more dangerous times and knew what they were getting into too.
They still existed nowadays. Rangers and First Recon, for instance. But in her opinion, the Republic had been overtaken by its own success! After achieving peace and stability in the core regions, they bred a generation that wasn't ready for the brutality still present out there and they were now paying the price for it. Young farmers or workers were barely given any training before being sent to war, and the leadership has grown complacent in its own way. Whereas the Brotherhood's downfall was an overreliance on their technology, the Republic's fatal flaw was shaping up to be reliance on superior numbers to win. It'd work, but for how long? How many young men and women can be given a rifle and a uniform before they start to run out of them? That's partly why Emma sought to ascend in the ranks. Were it up to her, she would rather slow down on the expansion and properly form the new generation of soldiers. Make them worthy of the name itself before giving them ammo and stuff to kill.
Men like Deacon and Hsu were a bit reassuring to her in that way. She couldn't fully approve of outright lying to the brass, but hopefully, success in the operation would validate it. For that reason alone, she was ready to crawl into that base by herself and slaughter the Legionaries within before dragging that Centurion screaming into McCarran.
Or at least, she'd like to say that was the only reason behind her excitation. In truth, she wanted to fight Caesar's very best already. Fiends weren't enough, and the Khans were relics of a bygone era on their way out. What she wanted out of this was a confrontation with the Legion's elite. To see for herself the mettle of the emerging empire of the East, able to outmatch the Republic even when their soldiers were commonly reputed to only carry machetes into battle. Lies for the most part, but it was the truth that the Legion thoroughly trained its soldiers so that they could become obedient killing machines. Bold and skilled enough to charge enemies with firearms and subsequently wins.
Emma wanted to take on one of those in battle and wins. Be it a confrontation at a distance or up close, she'd only be truly satisfied should she take on Caesar's best and outmatch them. And not even to make "a point" or humiliate them: The trained soldier simply sought to meet someone worth her match, after giant ants and raiders proved incapable of holding up to that part. That Max wasn't part of the fight was a bonus, the young girl was definitely too impressionable to be a proper member of such a brawl. She regretted admitting it, but privates like that were essentially Legionary fodders. The young woman would definitely need a bit more experience and kills before she could go toe-to-toe with those guys.
But that day was getting closer. She'd just need a bit more training and a bit more time to shake those thoughts out of her head, and she'd make a woman out of her. Max would return home with a beret and a customized sniper rifle with a few notches on it per scores of enemy scum slain at her hands, damn it!
But what mattered right now was surviving. And Emma knew that getting excited was a bad way to go about it, so she shoved that all aside for now. It was well and good to get hyped up, but bullets are fast and she knew that the elite of the Legion often wielded powerful firearms in battle. They were not going to be raiding machete-wielding savages: To capture this centurion, they would need to go through his men. A fanatic bunch who fought for years in an army where most men are lucky to live for weeks. Those weapons, they'd earned them off the corpses of slain enemies, and they'd put them to use soon.
Emma focused, gaining quite a bit of a poker face as well. With the right approach, it could be an easy fight, but that was certainly not an enemy to take lightly.
…
The Frumentarii were very deadly spies, or so she heard. The rumors on these bunkers are that the Legion sent them to scout the Mojave ahead of the first battle at Hoover Dam, to find convenient hiding spots that Legionaries deep in the enemy territory could use. As it happened, a lot of pre-war caves were present in the Mojave, where people would keep their gear, fortune, or illegal substance...The NCR had been searching for those for a very long time, aware of how useful those were for the Legion's cause, but the general width of the Mojave and the numerous issues had deterred attempts two years into the occupation and enemies could easily go about in NCR land.
That a cave was apparently this close to McCarran was fairly humiliating for everyone in the camp. But it did make sense: It was bold enough to work, there was a nearby shop where disguised spies could easily access food and water and the Fiends in the area distracted the NCR too much for them to bother patrol that stretch of ground first. They also kept those disguised spies below the bridge.
They didn't look too threatening at a glance. Two of them had weapons, but not carrying them openly would be foolish. The main one, the negotiator perhaps, seemingly had no weapons on himself, besides a very disarming smile. They were dressed in cobbled-up outfits, sewn together from various other pieces of clothing. Nothing odd, considering the circumstances in the Mojave. They looked like common enough merchants at a glance, which was disarming enough. To better sell the illusions, they carried some bags with what she assumed to be water and food in them, in case anyone genuinely sought them out for their products. When they noticed that the squad was heading for them, the merchants kept their cool and stuck close to the hidden entrance, waiting for the squad to approach.
"Keep those guns ready and wait for Pason, remember?" Advised the older man, keeping his head low but not turning around, before approaching the men. He held up one arm in greeting. "Hello, boys! I hope you don't mind if we scare off potential clients of yours while patrolling." The one in the middle did a practiced laugh. From up close, Emma could see that they were healthy young men who seemed to be only a tad older than Max, in good physical condition frumpy clothes aside. Being physically fit wasn't anything new when it came to more active inhabitants of the Wastes. Merchants especially tended to have good access to supplies, walked for long stretches, and had to be fit to fend off rowdy clients or survive combat against raiders, necessitating them to be in pretty good shape.
"Don't worry, the NCR makes for good clients." The squad leader gave a short glance at the rest of the squad. "… I assume that there is an urgency to be deal with for so many of you to be present. Could there be Deathclaws over our heads?" He pointed upwards, and one of his subordinates twitched very slightly, though he did nothing yet. Fairly damning, for anyone fast enough to catch it at least.
"There are Deathclaws ahead you know? You take the wrong turn after the 188 outposts and they're all over the place," Deacon put his hands on his hips, most likely have noticed the little signal.
"Then it'd be wise to deal with them, wouldn't it?"
"Oh, surely! But see, Deathclaws are dumb animals in the end. It's a bother, but nothing that can't be dealt with via bright lights. What we're looking for is quite a bit smarter than that and doesn't really want to stay in its own territory, if you see what I mean." The man smirked slightly, and his other goon moved without the need for any signal. He stuck a tiny bit closer to the group now, surely because of his choice of weapon: A nice clean shotgun. Not the fanciest of weapons, but very useful for a close-combat situation. Not as polyvalent as the service rifle, perhaps, but giving more to the regular troops would make fighting the recruit Legionaries a lot easier. I want that gun. Emma thought, contemplating the weapon, and not only because it was well-adapted for the coming fight.
"You mean Fiends? Or Khans? If it is the latter you seek, you may be a bit late to the party, lieutenant."
"I'd much rather take on the ones behind those two. See, we just got done slaughtering a bunch of Khans, as you just pointed out, but we feel like they may be a bit lonely down in Hell. So we've decided to look for Legionaries to keep them company down here! And what would you know, there's a whole bunch below our feet… and right in front of us too." The man scoffed at the accusation and narrowed his eyes in clear indignation. It was rather well-acted, she had to admit.
"What nonsense! The Legion has clearly driven you paranoid, Lieutenant! You perceive foes everywhere, and that is an attitude that could cost you dearly in later endeavors! Do you plan on making an enemy out of every inhabitant of the Mojave?!"
The lieutenant scratched his beret in answer. "Whatever call itself an enemy of the NCR in these parts, we'll kill it. And if the others aren't convinced to stay down, we'll kill them too. We did it with the Powder Gangers, we did it with the Khans, we…" The man in the lead ducked mid-speech, unwilling to listen further to Deacon. Or at least he would have if the older man didn't grasp him by the throat before he could do so. As he did, a nameless trooper on the left of the Lieutenant fired a few shots into the shotgun-wielding Frumentarii before he could fire his own weapon, neatly capping him with two bullets to the head. At the same time, the last Frumentarii attempted to empty his submachine gun's entire clip into Deacon and the soldiers around him, which included Emma. The Lieutenant stood still, letting his shield serve his purposes, but the troopers dove down and raised their own weapons, preparing to inflict righteous punishment.
"THE PROFLIGATES ARE HERE! TO ARMS! T-" A barrage of bullets flew in from behind the disguised Legionary, reducing him to fine gruels mid-sentence. The reinforcements, she guessed. As Ranger Pason strolled in, he and Deacon nodded at each other and converged at the same spot. The roar of the gunfire had most likely already awakened the Legionaries below, and every second mattered in reaching them before they could scramble up a defense. Emma immediately got up and holstered her rifle to her back, already moving one of her hands to one of her stun grenades. With the other, she scooped out the dead frumentarii's shotgun and stuck the barrel in between her arm and left side to better pump it in. The rest of the soldiers, Nolan included, followed the ranger and lieutenant, the latter tossing away the corpse he had used as a shield, and both men dug their hands into the sand before grasping something and pulling back. As they did, wooden gates below the mass of sand swung outwards, leading into a set of stairs and darkness full of angry Romans.
It would be incredibly easy to toss a frag or two in there, but the orders were to capture. And so, Emma and a few of the soldiers of her squad immediately took positions and threw the grenades down the stairs before backing off. Like with the Khans, bright flashes emanated from inside the structure, causing several of the Legionaries to suddenly scream in surprise and rage. She doubted that they had all been struck, but it'd strike the closest to the entrance and that was enough for them to gain an upper hand. The lieutenant did take the time to pull out a little black stick, with a tiny red orb at the end of it. "See the red dot? Anything I point it at, you shoot it. Slaughter everyone inside but try not to kill the Centurion. Go!" Emma was the first to dive in, keeping her body close to the ground to avoid any lucky bullets. A few of the members of her squad went in with her, followed by Nolan and some of the troopers of Camp Delta, quickly followed by more of the soldiers. A few stayed behind to defend the back from an ambush, with Ranger Pason amongst them. Lieutenant Deacon ran in with the rest of them, being right behind the first row of offense.
The bunker was a bit more complex than thought: It was a single hallway littered with various rooms, and what seemed to be a set of stairs leading further underground. A Legionary stumbled out of one of these rooms, in a stunned daze, and immediately had a red dot pointed on his head, prompting Emma to shoot it off entirely. "Get to the rooms! Slaughter everyone inside! The Centurion's probably deeper anyway!" It was better off to have the group splinter off like that, instead of following the same constricted path where they'd be in each other's way. Emma glanced at a man on her left, he glanced back, and they dove into a room on her right, where some of the Legionaries were sleeping before their rather rude awakening. Legion discipline being what it is, some of them were already on their feet and had almost equipped themselves with proper weaponry, but all were reeling too much from the stun grenades yet. With but a nod, the nameless soldier cleaned his side of the room with a burst of fire from his service rifle. Emma took care of her own side with her borrowed shotgun, keeping track of the shots left and the slain enemies in her wake.
"Two…" A Legionary is struck by the shells hard enough to send his corpse flying across the room and into the wall. "Three!" Another sees his upper torso blown off, leaving his lower body to drop down onto the bed. The fourth one lunged, having perhaps shaken off the effects of the stun grenade a bit quicker than the rest. His movements were still sloppy enough for the veteran woman to counter by slamming the butt of the shotgun into his face hard enough to visibly crack the wooden part of the weapon. To say nothing of the enemy's face as he drops to the ground. Deciding to save some ammo while she was at it, Emma raised her right foot and quickly stomped down on his neck, earning herself the fourth kill today.
In the other rooms, the soldiers were doing an efficient job at finishing off the opposition as well. Gunfire and screams filled the hallway, along with defiant curses at the Profligates. They had the upper hand for now, but those below would group together fast. The soldiers who were done thus left immediately and headed down. While it was bigger than she had thought, it was no Vault: The second "floor" had several more rooms along with a bigger one at the end, where the Centurion was assuredly hiding. A few Legionaries had gathered their weapons and armors already, but had underestimated how far the NCR soldiers could make it: Emma greeted one of those with another blast from her shotgun, as Nolan and the others gunned down the rest with their service rifles. Still, a few Decanus remained and were swift enough to open fire in return. Nolan and the other veterans backed off from attacking for now and yanked the recruits back even, but the dark-haired woman chose to avoid getting stuck at the entrance and dove into one of the rooms instead.
Completing the roll put her face to face with a Legionary who had remained in the room, perhaps to better ambush the troopers. A burst of her shotgun later and he no longer had a face to use. Getting up swiftly, Emma analyzed the room and noticed a single lone foe, standing there quietly. Without giving it much more thought, she raised the barrel of the gun and pressed the trigger.
Click.
Even with all the gunfire happening literally next door, it was somehow defeaning.
"… Your weapons fail you, profligate," Taunted Caesar's slave. "You rely too much on them to compensate for your natural frailty. A mistake which I intend to exploit." Instead of listening further, Emma instead tossed the weapon away, onto a bed. It was for style points, really. A gun like that was good to have around and could take a bit of a roughing. Once done, the woman slammed her right fist into the palm of her left hand and took a step forward. This is a mistake a little voice told her. Just grab any of your other weapons and be done with it. You're on a mission.
"You're right. That's why I'm pretty good with my fists. Care to try that out, slaver?" As Emma held her fists up in preparation for a fight, the man scoffed instead of preparing back.
"As if I would honor a dissolute woman with a duel." He reached for a machinegun on a table right next to him instead and had it been anyone else but her, he would have very well been able to gun down his opposition. But he wasn't up against the other soldiers, so instead his brain matter splattered against the wall and his limp body, still caught in the motion of his lunge, fell down unto the table and cracked it in two. That's my seventh kill. Emma smirked proudly at her streak so far and blew smoke out of her revolver's barrel. Instead of immediately heading back for the fight, the soldier first grabbed that machinegun of his to use it for later. The shotgun would have to be recovered as well, but that was after their victory.
The hallway stalemate had been a short one: The more soldiers joined in from above, the more firepower was used. Already fighting on the back foot, the few defenders remaining were more and more pressured with each second. And curiously had little in the way of reinforcements: For sure there were still a few slavers scum in there, right? Emma glanced at the fighting from her position, and noticed a few of the defending Legionaries nod at each other, relaying a strange message to one another. Then, without any hint of hesitation, the defenders moved their hands to acquire their knives, while keeping the pressure on the enemy to prevent any intervention. Then, without a hint of hesitation, they proceeded to slit their own throats. Most fell down and a few kept their twitching fingers on the trigger, determined to hurl as many bullets as possible at the enemy even in their final moments.
"Fuck! No! No!" Deacon yelled, perhaps not out of sincere concern for his enemies. "Don't let the Centurion do the same! We need to interrogate him!" Unsurprised by the use of that tactic, which left even Nolan unsettled judging by his stare, Emma and a few of the older troopers bravely ran ahead to attempts to reach the room at the end of the hall. Upon opening it, they weren't surprised to see more enemies at their feet. Given their armor and headdress, those were older veterans under the Centurion: The attack must've been dire for them to choose death instead of a final push. But that wasn't the most surprising thing to be found: While his men had killed themselves, the Centurion himself was very much still alive and standing over the corpses with an irritated expression on his face.
"If they want to kill themselves so badly, they could at least be useful in doing it!" She couldn't judge his makeshift armor given the circumstances and the low lighting in the room, but he had a huge pauldron on his right shoulder, with a chain wrapped and a small cape wrapped around it, to cover up his armored arm. She couldn't recognize the rest of the armors he had stolen, but they covered his body well and he had no obvious weak spot at a first point: Several metallic plates covered his right arm, each held tightly by fabric that would be too complicated to simply shot off and the middle of his chest was shielded by armor plates borrowed from a combat armor, like those found off Van Graff thugs. The leg was a better option but that could kill him as well, and the head, while unprotected, made for a poor choice of a target if she wanted to merely neutralize him.
"Surrender, Legion scum! We know plenty of ways to break you without killing you!" The Centurion considered them a moment, and Emma thought he'd return fire with that carbine he was wielding. No proper soldier of Caesar would surrender after all, right? Her instinct was begging her to shoot away and prevent him from doing a counter-attack that could kill at least her or a few other soldiers, but the soldier refrained from firing yet. It'd be a most glorious kill, perhaps her most glorious yet, but that would be going against the orders.
Then, with no warnings, the Centurion quietly lowered the carbine until it was pointed at the ground and took the magazine off it, before placing both on the wooden table. He then took three steps back and kneeled, while simultaneously placing his hands on the back of his head. Every single soldier in the bunker stared vacantly at him, dumbfounded by the quiet surrender. In an army where the foot soldiers were mad fanatics, the Centurion stood out as the toughest, most vicious of all. How could he surrender so easily? Were more Legionaries going to crawl out of a hidden door to slaughter the stunned soldiers? Or was an ambush force headed down the bunker to quickly assist their leader while he was distracting the enemy with a stunning gamble? Even Emma was too taken aback to properly react.
Deacon took over where his soldiers couldn't and walked up to the surrendering centurion. He smirked as if their positions were reversed, with him standing triumphant over a defeated lieutenant. "The troops of the Republic seems terribly unused to victory, Lieutenant. I wonder wh-" Deacon immediately punched the enemy commander in the jaw, knocking him unconscious as judged by the lack of a response to it. This awakened the soldiers, who immediately circled the downed man. Even as he laid out cold and in defeat, they all kept their guns trained on him, ready to unleash hell should he so much as twitch a finger.
"Check for any hidden weaponry and remove that chain on his right pauldron. We'll tie him up with it," Deacon hanged back, glancing at the desk but refusing to look away yet. His tone remained impartial, but no one in the room was blind to the childish glee in his eyes like he'd cut off the Centurion's head to exhibit it on a wall instead of simply capturing him. Then, he dropped the pretense altogether and threw his head back, laughing so loudly it's like he wanted the ranger still on the surface to hear of his triumph. "… We did it, girls and boys! We caught a live one! I'd give everything up to see how Caesar will react to this! Haha! Only days after the death of that Vulpes freak too! Everyone in this room is going to be promoted before the end of the week!"
"That's great news, Lieutenant! Or should I say, Captain?" Emma said, after a bit of pause. Flattery wasn't her forte, but it'd help to have the favors of what seemed to be someone who'd go far in the hierarchy. He laughed again and turned his eyes over to her as she took the chain off the pauldron before tying it around the Centurion's hands. The cape fell, revealing what had been obvious to Emma all along: The sigil of the Brotherhood of Steel. She still froze briefly at the sight of it, coming together after two seconds of it to better tie his hands up with the chains. "… Looks like our boy tangled with our friends at the Brotherhood." She noted, fixing the emblem.
"Could be survivors from Operation Sunburst or a chapter further east." Indicated a nameless soldier. "I heard rumors of one as such."
"Well, it looks like the Legion are doing some clean-up on their own," Commented Emma. "… I don't know who I'd root for, personally." With that, the young woman got up and unholstered her revolver as she began walking back to the room where the dead Legionary was. Simultaneously, she grabbed a little knife from her belt and pressed it against the gun's stock, carving herself one notch. She'd have about… a good seven notches all of a sudden! That was a pretty good start to it, all things considered, even if most of those kills were done via that shotgun.
"Here's to me running out of space." She thought. After entering the room, Emma looked around to find her shotgun, ignoring the scattered brain matter and corpses spread over the room. Then, her gaze settled on a corner of the room, and she smirked.
…
"So I… I found this guy, half-naked, standing at the end of the room and telling me something about not dying the profligate way. I can see that he's goading me into a fight, see? But I've got a gun and bullets for it to use, so instead, I turn to him, say "I'd rather live the profligate way!" and unload on him!"
Max was sitting next to Nolan at the dining quarters, listening patiently to his stories. She'd smirk or laugh a bit awkwardly whenever he'd describe something violent, so her laughter was filling the room a lot tonight. "And when you came up to the Centurion, what happened?" She asked, turning to better lean her back against the table's edge. "You beat him up, right?"
"… Erm, yeah, totally. He said he'd kill us all in Caesar's name and…" Nolan smacked his lips, unsure on where to go next. "… Well, I tackled him."
"Nah he surrendered," Interrupted Emma, eating her plate of beans like it was food from the Ultra-Luxe. She was sitting across the two, who immediately glanced her way as soon as the discussion had been interfered with. "… But that's because he knew who he was up against, huh?" Nolan blanched.
"Y-yeah, totally… We're lucky he didn't, you know…"
"Why are you surprised at that? Legionaries are a fanatic bunch. It works our way if they kill themselves when they smell defeat," Emma shrugged.
"Whole legion oughta do it in fact!" Yelled a soldier at the end of the table, prompting his fellows to cheer and applaud in enthusiasm. Max stared, non-plussed, but didn't find the heart in her to try and argue with the man. Instead, she looked at a visibly distressed Nolan and patted him on the back.
"Are you alright?"
"… Y-yeah. I'm fine," He looked at his plate for a moment, as if trying to find a deeper meaning in the object. "I'm not fine. What I saw… violence I can handle, easily too, but did you see the way they were so unflinching about it, Emma? Those guys didn't even flinch! How can you condition someone that badly? It makes no sense!" Max bite her lips, scrambling for a solution.
"W-well, they're brainwashed. It's that Centurion's fault, right? Their free will got stripped away and… well now we're going to make him pay. Because of all he did," She gave Emma a side glance as if begging for her input. "… Right?"
"Yeah, we hauled him off to a room. He's been stripped off his gear and weapons too, so no worries of him breaking out of jail. We'll cook him up until he vomits Caesar's secret in our laps!" Max retched a little, while Nolan remained unfazed. "Legion's fucked up like that though. But even the Centurion should've killed himself by that point, so that guy's probably kind of a wuss by their standards!" Her plate emptied, Emma got up to walk over to Max, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Just between you and me, Nolan, you shouldn't be that shocked. They're dead. It's a good thing. Who cares if it's our bullets and their knives? Just take solace in the fact that we kicked their asses so badly they chose to kill themselves!" Nolan remained in his position and slowly nodded, turning to the two women with a small smile.
"… Yeah. I guess I did pretty good."
"You did great!" Assured Max. "Huh, if you want to talk more, we could do it at any time! I'm just gonna need to talk to Emma for a little while and then I'm back, alright?" Nolan's smile regained some warmth at that.
"Alright, but hurry up, huh? I'd rather not be lonely, haha!" With this half-joke done, Max got up and quickly followed Emma, the older woman having decided to take the lead. Thankfully for the younger woman, the black-haired soldier wasn't too far from the dining quarters and had retreated to her bunk. Less thankfully, the victory over a Centurion of the Legion had caused a bit of an uproar at McCarran and many soldiers were gathered in the concourse, to boast of their deeds during the battle or smuggle alcohol and food or simply partake in a camaraderie that was usually all too rare within the camp. After dodging her way through several such groups, Max approached Emma, who was accessing her own locker.
"Can you believe it? The guy got shot several times but a little mass suicide gets him all mopey," Grumbled Emma, as she inserted the key into the lock. "I guess that's what happens when you hang out in the core regions and fight geckos all day long." Max's eyes widened in surprise before her eyebrows furrowed in indignant anger.
"It's not very nice of you to insult Nolan like that when his back is turned! It's a pretty traumatizing thing, too! I know in the same situation, I would…"
"Oh come on, Max! It worked in our favor! And besides, suicide's very common in the Wastes. I've looted a lot of dead guys and gals with a smoking gun and a sad note," Emma rolled her eyes in exasperation but that vanished quickly enough when she reached into it and pulled out a bolt-action rifle. Max stared at the weapon, dumbfounded. It was much cleaner than her trusty service rifle, but some black tape had to be used on some parts to keep it together. Furthermore, a scope had been equipped on it. Before doing anything with the rifle itself, Emma peered into the scope, shook her head, and cleaned it up a little bit more with her a little piece of cloth. Once done, she practically shoved the weapon in Max's hands. "Here! Your very own hunting rifle!" The young woman stared at the gift, dumbfounded. "I took it from a Legionary. The guy was too dead to say no. I've modified it a bit but it's yours! We're using it tomorrow for your training."
"… Blehu?" Max fumbled, unsure on how to respond.
"Oh, and don't worry about it being taken away by some higher-up. Long as you make good use of it, the brass doesn't care about what you use. And it's not like an energy weapon where it can blow up or something," Emma stroked the barrel of the gun with her hand in a slow-motion, gently, like she was petting a newborn. "You'll gravitate towards higher and higher stuff as you move up the rank, but what I want is for that rifle to be your trademark weapon. In years, you'll be clutching a damn fice Hécate II Anti-Materiel Rifle to battle… but your heart will still belong to that little wooden dearie." Feeling intensely weirded out, but bizarrely touched by the attention, Max smiled sweetly and cradled the gun with more care. She figured it'd be better not to protest so that she could better return to get Nolan the pep talk he needed. Not that she knew how she'd say it.
"T-thanks! I'll try to live up to your expectations."
"You better be! I want you to be 1st recon material before Caesar bites the dust, got it?"
"Yes sir!"
…
Residents of Novac were running for cover this morning following the failed launch of three rockets from the REPCONN test site.
Possible causes suggested were engineering mistakes, centuries-old equipment, and the fact that the rockets were piloted by a cult of crazy ghouls. On a less tragic note, a shop owner from the town has reported that a kind stranger has apparently bought his whole stock of "Dinky the T-Rex" souvenir. "He ran in and threw some caps at me before packing them all in a bag and running away. He also took a few rockets, I think but I was too distracted with the departure of those damn things to care. I've still got a few left, so would you mind bu-"
And now, just for you: There's an outlaw at the town of Agua Fria, and it'll take one ranger to save the town from the problem! Coming next: Big Iron!
…
The tenth chapter is done! We get some focus away from Max, briefly, to show how Emma tends to operate her stuff. I largely improvised the Silus capture sequence, but I figured it'd be nice to show it off. That bridge near McCarran is a spot where Legionaries' Assassins will pop out in the base game, so I figured that it'd be fun to sort of include that in the fic.
The next chapter should also have some initial focus on a different set of characters. Some that we just sighted a while back. I hope you'll enjoy it, and in general, I hope you enjoy the fic so far! I don't know where I'll stop, but we're slowly drifting towards what I'd call a very important moment.
What did you think of this chapter? Of the characters? Etc… I love getting reviews, so don't hesitate to hand me out some! I love that!
I'll be playing Fallout 4 soon. It's a different setting for sure but I'll keep my focus on the Mojave as well. I've always liked how everything is a bit more rebuilt on the West Coast!
See ya later, alligator!