Crackling torch fire was all that could be heard from inside the massive war tent. Some of the most powerful men in the wasteland stood beside or sat before one man, their ruler, but lay still as he held before a golden coin minted in the honor of one who was like them but not them. To voice surprise would offend the honored man and perhaps offend their divine dictator, so they stew in their thoughts.
"Rise," The Legion's master spoke, "Rex Praedator."
A towering brown-skinned man, clad in odd black leather with metal plates protecting his ling limbs, sitting in front of him stood for all to see.
"You have protected my honor, ensured my victory, and slaughtered the profligates that would resist my will. For your great deeds, I bestow you the first aureus of many to be made in your honor."
'Rex' took the coin from the aging man's hand, face as still as it ever was.
One side was etched with his likeness and the other displayed the crucified, broken NCR general he had slaughtered an army to drag out his fort.
"Vivat Rex Praedator!" His majesty chanted.
Needing no orders, the crowd of commanders followed their master's lead.
The honored man looked back at the army of slaves, illuminated by torch light and faint moonlight, as they praised a name that wasn't his.
The Legion resumed its preparations for New Vegas.
'Rex Praedator' sneaked away from the commotion to look out at the waters of Lake Mead, consumed by the darkness of night, from a nearby ridge.
"You realize what that coin means, don't you?" A slick voice asked.
"Either the Frumentarii are already keeping tabs on retreating NCR forces or you're being irresponsible talking to me while you should be instructing your agents."
"Rex, you understand what it means, don't you?"
Eye twitching, the brown-skinned man turned back to the owner of the voice with a monstrous Yao Gui helm over his head. "Vulpes, you know that's not my name."
"It is your name, the original unperverted by time or other cultures."
"Weren't you just asking me about this?" 'Rex' flipped the coin still in his large scarred hand, catching it with his marred other one.
Vulpes stood in silence.
Sighing, the man turned back to the lake. "Caesar is either going to groom me to be his heir or a consul for when we take Vegas and rename it Rome."
"Actually, Caesar said doing such a thing would be…. 'played out.'"
'Praedator' blinked. "I didn't think the old man had it in him. If only he'd drop 'New' from Vegas' name: it's annoying to say and unnecessary."
"Vegas isn't unique in that regard."
"I know." The brown-skinned man turned back to his uninvited visitor. "Now, why did you really come here?"
"Are you staying or off to mindlessly roam the wastes as you have always done? You can't return to the west now that the NCR considers you a terrorist, the New Canaanites to the North wouldn't welcome you thanks to your newfound ties with Caesar, and the lands east of the Legion's… I suppose you'd welcome the rampant chaos and degeneracy."
"Veiled insults are beneath yet so like you, Vulpes."
The head frumentarius waited again for an answer.
"…Do you know what I want?"
"No, it's one of the most perplexing things about you."
Returning again to the sight of Lake Mead, 'Rex' stared beyond its shimmering to an old, nearly forgotten place from his memories.
"Praedator?"
The head spy received no answer and wouldn't for the rest of the night.
When the sun rose, almost all of the important men were back in the war tent. Two centurions were sent south to harry retreating troops and capture the small settlement of Novac with their centuries.
"I intend to march on Vegas with as much troops as we can muster: the city must be cleansed as quickly and efficiently as possible, Camp McCarran is an obstacle but less important than the city itself. However, Camp Gulf and the other retreating troops from the dam need handling as well." Caesar turned his back to the map of the Mojave all nine men were crowded about. "One century can be spared with little to no effect on the conquest of Vegas, but two will likely prolong the purification more than I want it to, which means one of you will have the honor of capturing the main and only surviving base of the rangers." He turned to face his commanders and honored ally again. "I have a centurion in mind, but I'm willing to take volunteers on this."
Two men in heavy, make-shift armor parted their lips.
"I can finish the job I started if it's such a bother." 'Rex Praedator' said.
"Had a feeling you'd say that." The dictator crossed his arms over his armored chest. "Do you really think you can take about a hundred men reinforced by retreating troops that know something's coming?"
A single nod was the man's answer.
His excellence smiled. "Get to it then; I expect to see you before my banner flies over the gates of New Vegas."
Without a word, 'Rex' made his way to the war tent flap.
A man in a doctor's coat sitting in a ragged chair glared at the fellow outsider, bringing him to a stop.
One disdainful glance was all the doctor received from 'Rex' before he left.
Cody Yu, thirty-year NCR ranger veteran and acting commander of Camp Golf, couldn't believe it when he had been assigned his position: Hanlon was outed as a traitor by some up and coming mercenary civilian asset before eating his revolver. Sometime after, the Camp McCarran monorail was blown up, the Van Graffs and Crimson Caravan Mojave chapters were torn apart, Camp Forlorn Hope was eradicated and 1st Recon's Alpha Team along with it, the ranger stations fell dead one by one, HELIOS One erupted in light as if some vengeful god had come to reap the garrison's souls, and the same now-revered civilian asset blew some political agent's head off within the NCR Strip Embassy before offing Ambassador Crocker while he was at it. The military police garrison was too shocked by their hero's actions to do anything but watch as he walked out the door, or so the reports said.
Sighing, the man buried his face in his hands.
President Kimball, Colonel Moore, and dozens of men were killed two days ago at Hoover Dam by some miraculously still anonymous traitor in a unique set of veteran ranger gear. The day after, the Legion took the dam with unconfirmed reports of Enclave assistance as well as an unknown aerial bombardment-capable force while the Omertas and unconfirmed reports of White Glove Society members slaughtered NCR forces on the Strip. Vegas and the Mojave as a whole went from dangerous to downright insane with an unfathomable sequence of devastating events.
"We're under attack!"
Yu rose from behind his desk and ran out along with his other paperworking rangers to see a wounded trooper propped up by another ranger in the resort house entrance room. "Legion?!"
"Not sure." The man clutched at his bleeding side. "Sniper, killed all our sentries, killed all the rangers outside too… killing us in our own tents." Trembling, the bleeding trooper wept. "We're all going to die."
"Quit that talk, soldier, you're not dead yet." He turned to his already prepped and armed fellow vets. "One of you get this man some medical attention, the rest of you with me: we've got a sniper to snipe."
Looking down the sights of his worn out rifle, 'Rex' sighed at the dozens of corpses spread out the resort camp.
He saw no real accomplishment and felt no gratification from this: it was just sweeping up trash.
"'There is no honor in killing from afar.'" The assassin whispered someone else's words to himself.
He didn't believe in honor, not anymore. Although, there was always a 'wrong' feeling to long-range ballistic weapons, using them at a long-range at least. The impersonality of it felt alien and dead to him.
Lowering his rifle, 'Rex' glissaded down the cliff he had taken position on with his feet, arriving some distance away from the camp itself. He shifted the strap attached to his rifle, 'Paciencia', around in favor for his strapped shotgun, 'Dinner Bell.'
A grin spread across his face as he made his way to the tent grounds. "This is much better."
The tent flap to his left ruffled, earning a shot of hand-loaded 12 gauge 4/0 magnum ammo.
"Sniper i—"
Deafening lead spat out again from 'Dinner Bell's' barrel, silencing the concealed voice.
'Rex' opened fire on any soldier trying to exit their tent and any tent with enough ruffling to warrant a compact spread of bullets. When his inner count reached the capacity of his lead-spitter, he rolled behind a tent and fed his weapon more shells. He was certain he could kill every man and woman at the camp without issue even forgoing firearms, but it was better to be safe than to be sorry.
One, two, three, and four men exited their individual tents before collapsing to the ground, lungs pierced by bullets with accompanying fibers of their own ineffective body armor.
Peeking out from the fabric shelter, 'Rex's' smile died at the sight of rangers skulking about.
They'd switch the current flow of the battle back into a long-ranged conflict, it was just how NCR operated, unless he did one efficient yet boring diversion tactic.
Sighing, the man let go of his shotgun to grab and grabbed two odd canisters from his gun belt. He pressed hard down on their handles before lobbing one at the command center tent where a majority of the troops had retreated and chucking the other at the row of tents parallel to the ones he was taking cover behind.
Frightened and agonized shrieks filled the air as the canisters of napalm exploded, turning the tents into burning deathtraps.
"Dammit! Do we have buckets?!"
"…We don't have time for that soldier! Enemy is still about!"
Several burning soldiers ran out of their incinerating tents and around the camp in torturous panic.
"I can't just watch!"
"Ranger n—"
As the seasoned veteran ran out from cover and into his enemy's sight, 'Rex' drew an old world revolver from his side, firing a hand-loaded .44 round through the helpful idiot's helmet and into his brain.
"Split in half and surround! He's behind one of the tents! Troopers still alive, if you can hear me, come out and check your tents' sides!"
A grin spread across the assassin's face again.
This is where the fun began.
Shifting 'Dinner Bell' back behind his shoulder, 'Rex' drew a razor sharp combat knife from its sheath resting on his belt and cut open the tent he was hunkering behind.
Two surviving soldiers inside the unburned shelter opened fire on him as he vaulted through his torn opening, widening it. The bullets did nothing but bounce off the black leather and metal plate the monster of a man was clad in however, leaving only bumps and dents.
He stabbed down into the soldier to his left's frontal lobe through his helmet before pulling his knife out and crushing the windpipe of the soldier to his right with a savage jab.
Not wasting any time, he cut open another opening to the back wall, the tent wall to his left, and leapt out of it as well.
The first veteran ranger to step out from first tent of the unburnt row's side was greeted by a lunging fist to the throat that broke his trachea.
He leveled his revolver at another ranger's head before they could to fire at him, splattering his brains; closed the distance between himself and the nearest veteran with a throat slitting lunge, fired another brainpan bursting round into the nearest fool, and threw his bloodied combat knife into one more frontal lobe through a far more resistant helmet.
As the remaining members of the flanking group of rangers finally leveled their guns, 'Rex' drew the throat-slit ranger's ceremonial hunting revolver and propped up his corpse as a human shield while he unloaded his remaining nine bullets on the rest, killing them all before they ever hit the ground with shots to their heads and necks along with their unprotected knees.
The meatshield and its former revolver, having served their purpose, were abandoned in favor for a frag grenade.
Plucking the pin with his trigger finger, he lobbed the frag over the tents exactly in the path of the remaining flanking rangers.
"Grenade! Hit the deck!"
A gleeful laugh likely unheard of by anyone including the originator of it thrummed through the air.
'Rex' stowed his piece, raised a multipronged object from his belt, pulled at the sides to reveal a glowing canister of energy, and threw it over the tents as the usual frag dust cloud blew up.
Despite his distaste for long-range weapons and combat, he had a soft spot for explosives: there was a stark brutality to them he could admire.
"Adios, vaquero idiotos."
Yu, having felt the grenade detonate and shrapnel impact without issue, began pushing himself off the ground. "Up and at 'em, boys!"
The veteran soldiers were already doing the same as the new canister bounced against the ground by them.
When the commanding officer caught sight of the object from the corner of his eye, what remained of his composure broke.
A plasma grenade, the real attack, had been thrown while the frag had only been used as a trap.
There was no hiding from cover against a plasma grenade: super-heated energy would build up and explode in a corona of destruction, leaving nothing but gooey green sludge in its wake with the survivors burning in sickly green fire just as, if not hotter, than napalm.
Cody rolled as much as he could away from their doom before it burst in blinding light.
A tune hummed in 'Rex Praedator's' throat as he walked past the burning green tents to observe his carnage. The pleased tone died as he saw a familiar four man squad standing on the other side of the pool of burning goo with their rifles trained on his chest.
Each of the squad members' eyes widened at the sight of him in turn.
It had been quite some time since they had last seen each other. That was on far better circumstances however: with him being an idolized figure thought to save the Republic from its own ineptitude and corruption. Life, on the contrary, was never so simple.
Three of the troopers opened fire while the biggest of them ran to pick up a green-burning ranger from the edge of the goo pit.
As the squad quickly realized their weapons were ineffective against his armor, 'Rex' lifted his metal plated leather-clad arms to cover his head.
The sustained fire lasted seven seconds until clicks of empty magazines rung through the air for none of their buzzing ears to hear.
'Rex' didn't need any sound to indicate their lack of munitions when the lack of impact against his arms was clue enough.
As they reached for their spare ammo, their familiar enemy closed the distance with a mad dash before throwing, tripping, and pushing them all to the ground.
The ending was inevitable: the man had stood against far much worse with far less.
His eyes darted towards the lake where the last standing trooper approached with the ranger put out over his back, both dripping.
A neutral look remained on the gentle giant's face even as he noticed his fallen companions.
One simple nod was all the brown-skinned man gave him before walking away from the carnage he wrought.
He walked up to another, lesser perch and observed as his little band of misfits rose.
They said a few words to one another, gathered the few that still lived, and departed on the north road with supplies they collected from the resort house all in about seventeen minutes.
A warm smile formed from Rex's still lips.
He was sure they'd meet again if he spared them. Life had a funny way of bringing people together: it was something akin to fate but far more random. They'd better be ready for him. Second chances weren't a thing he gave out sparingly or at all.
'Rex' turned towards New Vegas.
There were two people he had to fetch, people that belonged to him and no one else. He had something important to tell one. While the other wasn't as precious, he'd sooner betray himself than leave them to be made a slave.
He began walking.
Men who did not defend their women, no matter how capable they were, were not men.
Sarah Weintraub had absolutely no idea what in Lady Luck's name was going on.
One day, muffled gunshots rung in from the horrible outside world. There was shrieking, coughing, and crying for a few seconds before they were drowned out by deafening booms and thundering cracks. She couldn't move when silence had come, leaving her with her frantic thoughts and ringing ears.
A few of her guests came up several minutes afterward to check outside but two securitrons with army-man faces told them to remain inside for their own safety until whatever was happening resolved itself.
That was only a day ago and the populace of her underground hotel were already showing signs of severe stress.
A sigh huffed from her plump lips.
Despite how much she despised Mr. House, she couldn't help but feel as if she wouldn't be in this predicament had he lived.
The door opened, making the vault dweller jolt before getting down, hiding herself behind the clerk counter.
"Sarah," a voice familiar and affectionate to her said, "there are far better places in this vault to hide; get up."
Ms. Weintraub jumped back up, ran out from behind her counter, and jumped on to him as he caught her. "Stranger!" She leaned down and pecked his lips. "Where've you been? All hell's broken loose and I have no idea what's going on." Tilting her head, she raised a blond eyebrow. "How did you get past the securitron?"
"I put them there to protect you: the Omertas detonated a chlorine bomb in the NCR embassy and cleared the Strip of any poor bastard that resisted."
"Oh… you knew this was going to happen."
The man nodded, setting the woman down. "I helped them orchestrate it for the Legion, who now control Hoover Dam and are headed this way."
"…I knew something happened between you and the NCR after all the news about Crocker getting capped but… the Legion, really?"
"Relax, they won't hurt you." He took a golden necklace out his pocket, put it in her hand, and held it tightly with his own. "So long as you have and show them this, you'll be fine. Just say 'Rex Praedator' gave it to you. Tell them all about our… relationship if they ask why you have it."
Sarah looked down at the golden bull-emblazoned piece of jewelry before looking back up to her lover. "Will my brother be safe?"
"Sheldon will be fine so long as he cooperates and lets them know he's a builder: Caesar will likely have a use for him."
"I'll let him know." Weintraub placed a hand on the glimmering black leather of 'Rex's' makeshift armor, dragging her hand along the abnormally tough material. "…You really can give leather a shine. What was it made from?"
A smile formed on the brown-skinned man's face. "A deathclaw bigger than any of its kind I've ever hunted that I killed with my bare hands."
Giggling, Sarah stepped back and returned behind her counter. "If you were anybody else, I'd say you were full of shit, but you're the only monster stranger I know…" She jabbed a finger into the leveled surface and began drawing circles. "You don't have to leave just yet do you?"
"No, no I don't." 'Rex' walked behind the woman as she leaned over the waist-high object.
A squeal purred out Ms. Weintraub's lips as strong hands grabbed her breasts and pushed her down against the thing she slaved over every day.
It didn't take long until the hotel entrance was filled with the sound of moaning over Sarah's usual groans of frustration.
An hour and thirty-three minutes later, 'Rex' was climbing down a sewer ladder by the west side of Vegas.
He had no love for the junkie, wastrel, prostituting filth of the city save for a few exceptions, especially one.
Echoing applause permeated the underground temple when he finished descending.
"There's our big game hunter!" One of many men with firearms and various melee weapons said.
Another guard grinned. "Here for Red Lucy as always, huh? She's been saying her words of wisdom about you: cryptic as always but me and the rest of the boys thinks she's talking shit for once. What'd you do to piss her off?"
"Something I came here to tell her about." The tall brown-skinned man stepped forward. "Make way."
The small crowd dispersed as fast as it could.
He walked past the festering vermin of Vegas plaguing the Thorn's corridors and into the upper clearing of the odd underground complex.
Beneath the sole source of natural light in her holy temple, a beautiful red-haired woman stood and observed the bloodied battleground below.
A sigh escaped 'Rex' before he made his way through the scaffolding-like stairs with makeshift planks made from scrap to her platform.
"The Bear, infirm and wounded by the Hunter, limps back west, having been gored by the Bull."
The brown-skinned man twitched. "…And here I thought the Thorn and its most faithful servant didn't care about the petty squabbles of lesser men and their self-proclaimed 'master.'"
"We do not: what you came to propose offends me."
"Do you really think you and this pathetic band of warriors can hold against the Legion? The sewers may be the underground invasion target from hell rightfully fortified, but your numbers and traps will falter eventually. Not even a quarter-way through, the filth will revolt against you, fearing for their meaningless lives." He frowned. "…They'll try to defile you, lay claim to you as if they were worthy."
Lucy turned to him, expression free of any anger. "It's sweet of you to fear for me, my hunter, but I will not leave the Thorn to be destroyed."
"It doesn't have to be, and you know it."
"Why would I give the Bull my services and why would they accept me?"
"…Because they are hunters, hunters like me. They have killed deathclaws, cazadors, nightstalkers, and geckos. Suffered their bites, stings, poisons, and burns. Maybe they are lesser men, but can you call the ones that serve you and the Thorn greater? Not counting me, perhaps three of them? Four? I can tell you none hold your beliefs or would be willing to die for them, you should already know that."
"They still serve a false master, one you have told me is a fraud."
'Rex' scoffed. "Beasts travel in packs and heed the will of their leader; it is in our instincts to lead and be led, as it is with many other creatures. Humans are unique in regards to not needing one with martial ability, though it's preferable that they have some. Caesar, flawed as he is, commands men through the power of himself and has made it this far. The Land and Death may have their ultimate say in things but men obey men as beast obeys beast.
"Hmm…" Averting her gaze, Red Lucy raised a hand to her soft chin.
The two stood in silence, gawked at by the guards and visitors of the Thorn, for several minutes.
"I am a woman; as I understand it, women are slaves and used only for breeding in the Legion. Would they truly accept me or discard me after I have taught what I know? "
"Women in the Legion, as priestesses, raise legionaries and create natural curatives. You could potentially elevate their status with what you know, if Caesar doesn't make any changes after he captures Vegas. If not that, I'm sure you'll be worshipped by the houndmasters after you teach them how to command something above a bitch."
"That is no guarantee I will remain free or the Thorn will remain as it is."
"…I know." 'Rex' dug a scarred hand into his leather pants pocket. "That brings me to the other reason why I came here." Falling down to one knee, he pulled and held out a band of bone with an encrusted fang at its top.
The servant of the Thorn stepped back, placing a hand on her chest.
Every other man and woman in the temple of death stared, eyes wide, at a sight rarely if ever seen in the post-apocalyptic wasteland.
"Lucy, will you marry me?"
Silence enveloped the complex.
Tears sprung forth from Red Lucy's quivering eyes. "…Yes!" She put her ring finger through the circle of bone and embraced 'Rex.' "I am yours, my hunter."
"As I am yours." The honored man hugged her back.
Once again, the Thorn erupted in applause.
Neither one of the couple paid any attention to them, focusing only on each other.
Beneath the moonlight and outside a fortified motel, a man with a red beret walked down the stairs of a hollowed, giant dinosaur sculpture.
An old friend's room door opened with his new stern self walking out.
"Ready for your shift, Boone?"
The sniper in combat fatigues stood in silence.
"…Look, I know what you want to do: maybe not exactly what you want to, but I've got a pretty good idea. It's only a matter of time until the Legion comes here and we need every man, especially you."
"Manny, it's time."
"Time for what!?" The other sniper scowled. "Time for you to throw your life away!? To let innocent people die just to feel better about killing a few more skirt-wearing bastards!?"
"No one is innocent, and I'm not going out there to die." Boone started walking towards the motel exit.
Manny Vargas sighed. "Then what are you heading out for?"
The old friend gave no answer as he departed with his scoped rifle strapped behind his back.
Veronica didn't know how long she ran but she collapsed on to the sand when she stopped. Gasping for air, she did her best to shield herself from the raging artificial sand storm generated from her old home.
Someone had to warn them or convince them if they thought their inevitable enemy was weak. It didn't matter whether or not she was executed as a traitor: none of them deserved to die as they would at the Legion's hand.
The woman rose, steeled herself, and entered the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel's bunker.
She made her way past the entrance room and through the oddly open second gate before taking several deep breaths and entering her home.
Gut-wrenching sickly sweet stink made the bile in her stomach rise.
Pinching her nose shut with her unarmored hand, the former scribe walked down the first flight of stairs. "Jesus stinking Christ, Ramos, what the hell happened to the air pur—"
The sight of a headless power-armored body laying limp in an arm chair within the security room froze her blood cold.
"…No." Her soft hand fell back down to her side.
Feeling her dread rise, she ran down the next flight of stairs to the first proper level of the bunker to see a dozen or so rotting corpses some ways from the scrap of two security turrets.
"No, no, no, no, no!"
Tears welled in Veronica's eyes as she ran through the first level, searching for survivors yet only finding more decayed remains of what were her family. After scouring the second level and finding every chapter leader dead, full streams were running down her soft cheeks as she collapsed to the ground.
Every man, woman, and child were slaughtered like animals. Reckless Stanton, tacky Torres, silly Lorenzo, bitchy Watkins, arrogant Schuler, literal egg-head Taggart, hardass Hardin, and Old Nolin lay dead, bloated and green. There was no one else left.
"…Sato, though." A sad smile emerged on her face. "He could still be out there! If not in the safehouse, he's probably headed here. Sato bro might already know too, which means he'd be using the safehouse to lay low or as a base of operations. With the Legion coming, he'd have to take the long way around."
Rising again from the elder chamber room floor, Veronica looked down at the two fallen paladins in full T-51 power armor assigned to guard the fallen McNamara.
"…Who could've done this? If it were some kind of military outfit, there should be some trace of them: you don't just go up against a small army of Brotherhood and walk away without a scratch."
"Are you sure about that?" A familiar, cold man questioned, his voice echoing in her mind. "You've seen what I've been up against; do you really think one of your tin cans could kill me?"
"…No."
He scoffed. "Oh please, I could take out your entire bunker if I wanted to: I'd start by… nevermind. It doesn't do me any good to make these kind of plans in my head. Let's focus on making our enemies dead rather than imagining our allies getting murdered."
"That sonofabitch!" Veronica snarled. "Cass was right about him this entire time! I bet Boone was in on it too, that NCR…" She breathed deeply again and sighed. "No, I'm jumping to conclusions looking for someone to blame… I should find Sato first. We'll figure out whoever did this afterward."
A new goal set in her mind, the former scribe's thoughts returned to the power armor and various technological marvels the bunker still held.
It was odd how untouched everything was and a shame she couldn't let anything of military use fall into the wrong hands.
Veronica fetched the keycards to the bunker's self-destruct authorization terminal, found and equipped a full unmarked set of T-51 armor from the depot, collected what supplies remained, downloaded the Brotherhood's non-military technology, triggered the self-destruct sequence, and ran out her old home as fast as she could, leaving nothing but rubble behind.
