Only What's Needed
The next morning, the sun was almost too high for Aleron's liking, not because of the heat that makes you forget the freezing mornings, but because the trek back to the fort was a good few hours of brisk walking. A task made terrible in a not masochistically enjoyable way when it's done in heat like that. Still, with Dalton, the four legionaries, and a mob of nearly 30 wasters in tow, he and Dalton had one more objective to complete before returning to the fort by the midday timeframe.
Two Sun was wide awake by this time. It was almost 9AM and the people filled the streets of town despite most of the residents being out in the fields and taking advantage of that dissipating morning breeze. Aleron scanned past the faces in the crowds, following the main road out of town and searching for that place he saw on the way in. Just past a patrol of municipal legionaries, he saw the wooden building with a big painted sign of a crude emblem. Despite the symbol's unclear image, the words "Stinson: Dentist & Surgeon" were clearly read. Upon stepping up to the place, Dalton the Prime acted on his apparent gifts and addressed the mob they'd been tasked with gathering. As Dalton told the rowdy crowd of miscreants to stay put while Aleron and he grabbed a doctor, Aleron looked them over.
Aleron was never the person to question an order; he was still occasionally curious about some, however. Not like he wouldn't still carry any order out without hesitation, but on the odd occasion, he did wonder where a unique order stemmed from. As he looked over the mob, he saw mercs, wasteland toughs, gunslingers, drifters, roughnecks, vagabonds, and even some ranchers who took interest in the Interfector's offer and thought they felt up to it. All of them armed with something, the group had been excitedly hollering to one another over stories and dreams about future rewards. Aleron saw all these profligates and wished Caesar would enslave the populace of this town, but knew not to even think of doubting Caesar's plans. Thinking of something else, he was genuinely curious about the Interfector's reasoning for having him summon the kind of wasteland trash he'd done so excellently.
After his brief moment of study and contemplation, Dalton walked up the steps to Aleron, and together went into the Dentist/Surgeon's shop with the four legionary muscle while the crowd stayed outside talking to one another.
Inside the shop, the place had all wood floors, rather intact wallpaper, a wood counter only 10 feet in front of the door, and a wide-open room past the counter. In the middle of the open room, the most notable feature aside from the bookshelves and staircase was an unconscious man lying back in a chair while a late-middle-aged man was fiddling inside the patient's mouth.
The man glanced up as the door rang open and saw the six Legion troops entering. He had treated a couple legionaries from the municipal garrison before in the past few months, but he hadn't much cared for the town's decision to ally with Caesar. Upon seeing the two un-masked Legion troops behind the counter, he adjusted his glasses and got back to work saying, "Got no time today. Appointments all day. Find a shaman or something."
Aleron stated commandingly to the situation, "By order of the garrison commander at the fortress of Long Shadows, and acting commander of the 4th Cohort under Legatus Marius; Elite Centurion Lord Interfectorem of Phoenix: your presence is required at Long Shadows Fortress."
The doc glanced up again and said calmly with a tinge of bubbling anger, "I can't. I got appointments all day."
It is believed that Dr. Stinson knew he had no power in this situation, but indulging in the illusion of power sometimes tastes as good as the real thing. Needless to say, he likely knew this was coming when Dalton motioned for the four legionaries to go about their usual expertise. The four legionaries filed behind the counter and into the open room while Aleron and Dalton followed only to the room's entryway. Like a machine, two legionaries escorted the doctor to the corner of the room while the two others picked up the unconscious patient and tossed him out an open side window into the alley.
As the doctor was escorted into the corner, he protested, "What's going on? Get off me," and watched his patient getting tossed into the alley unnecessarily. "You don't have to do tha- Oh no, not in the alley. He was t-" a forearm was pushed into his neck belonging to a man-like robot with a covered face. When he turned from the window, he was staring at a different face that knew no emotion with dead blue eyes beneath a battered feathered helmet. Aleron spoke;
"Will you come voluntarily or involuntarily?"
The doctor shifted his eyes from the man to the window with the other unmasked soldier leaning beside it. Eyes landing back on the questioner, he felt a bit more pressure on his windpipe, reminding him to croak, "Voluntarily?"
Aleron stared into the eyes of the now sweating doctor and didn't like how the man kept shifting them around the room. Aleron knew the doctor wasn't stupid enough to try to bolt, but he didn't deem his hesitation or initial non-cooperation as worthy of the "Volunteer" treatment. Aleron stated loudly and directly to the man's face, "I don't believe you."
Dalton read the scene and brought out the shackles. Binding the aging man's hands behind his back, he tried to explain that it wasn't necessary to chain him up, but Dalton said something that only perplexed Aleron and escorted the man out. The legionaries filing out of the establishment first, the doc asked, "Can I say bye to my wife first?" as Dalton guided him.
"No" said Aleron.
The doc looked to the ceiling and shouted, "Bye Honey! I'm going for a walk!" Aleron Knew the man wasn't worthy of the volunteer treatment.
A muffled "Alright. Be back soon, we have tha-" came from upstairs before the soldiers and their new volunteer emerged back onto the streets of Two Sun.
In the street, Dalton whistled and the mob of wastelanders began following them east out of town. Passing the crowds going about their day, the doctor made quite a spectacle about his detainment. On their way out of town, the doctor shouted, "Look! Does anyone care I'm being abducted!?... Someone wanna help!?... Anyone see this!?"
Nobody cared or wanted to help, and those in the busy streets who did see, knew just to ignore and move along when it came to Legion business. Not even the crowd of gunslingers cared; they were all too busy cheering and loudly talking to one another as they blindly followed the small Legion formation. Dalton got the doctor to shut up eventually, but the duo headed back to Long Shadows with a sizable group of what was demanded, as well as a resident healer. Both objectives completed.
The duo arrived back at the fort with their mob and physician sometime not long after noon, just as requested. After the mob's initial disarmament by the gates, the crowd had not ceased their incessant chatter as they were escorted to the grounds before the Elite's residence. The mob was organized into ranks by legionaries where they were again vetted for other armaments, still lively chatting all the while.
Now, outsiders were typically turned to silence upon entering Legion fortifications, taking the crucified warning displays and dozens of masked soldiers with weapons at the ready as a cue to stay humble. Not this bunch. This bunch didn't mind their weapons being confiscated, getting thoroughly searched, or any of the ambiances of a Legion fort. All of them were just too excited to hear more about the "Too good to be true" offer from the local Legion administrator. Of course, these were the wasteland toughs that weren't scared off by the whole, "It's a trap" mindset held by most back in Two Sun. Perhaps they were fools or careless with their lives for marching into the fort unarmed, but first impressions mean a lot. If the Legion offers a valuable reward of what someone wants, most outsiders will at least hear them out, even if the Legion rolls out its blood-spattered crimson carpet. Who better to roll that out than the fort commander himself?
As the mob underwent their procedure outside the Elite's tent, Aleron and Dalton escorted the bound doctor off to the side and waited. Dalton soon went to go search for the Elite or carry out some other task while Aleron stayed with the doctor who still wasn't as jovial as the gunslinger mob. Aleron stood by and scanned for the Interfector when he saw a gunslinger wandering straight toward him from further in the camp. This perplexed Aleron who nearly called for his arrest for wandering about, but then he recognized him. It was his commander. Aleron hadn't seen the Interfector in anything other than his elite attire or basic uniform. The Elite approached in tan cargo pants, a freyed grey hoodie, and a small chest rig strewn in pouches with a small backpack on his back. The man grinned as he stepped up to Aleron who said,
"Ave, My-"
But the rest went unheard as the Killer interrupted, "Aleron, there you are" and scanned the mob outside his tent, still being searched and chatting lively. His eyes flashed straight to the physician and he resumed, "I see you brought me my guns for hire, and hello, you must be the doctor who answered my call. Thank you for that by the way."
The doctor was silent, staring at the Elite in a studying and perplexed way. After enough silence from a man in shackles, Aleron only got out the first syllable of his reprimand for hesitation in greeting before the Interfector caught it, "That won't be needed Decanus Aleron… Release him"
Aleron automatically began unshackling the doc as the Elite turned to the doctor again, saying, "Forgive my boys if you would. I'm sure you know they lack in social etiquette when under orders…"
The Interfector paused, and the doctor's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly higher before he asked, "Don't I know you?"
A grin grew across the Elite's face as he said, "I don't believe we've met, but I'm sure you've heard plenty about someone who may resemble my description… Perhaps the name-"
The doctor's face fell into glee and humility as he nearly found himself shouting, "I know you! You were the one who shot El Tiro de Muerte a few years back! I- It's a damned honor to meet you sir. I'm..."
The Elite's hand was grabbed up by the doc the second he could and shook it nonstop as the Killer reveled in the kindness, "Nice to meet you, Stinson, it really wasn't that big a deal.. I always tell everyone that he essentially shot himself, but you all are far too kind."
Doctor Stinson responded in kind, "No sir, I won't hear it. You're a damned hero around these parts. They always said you were a humble one…"
The Interfector said, "You all are too much. I hope that mob over there recognizes me as well…"
Still very much star struck, the Doctor had finally eased himself down to reality, and then down to where he was, and who he found here. Doc asked, "Well why are you here?... I'm here to meet the Inter- Lor- You?... You're that 'Murderer of Phoenix' we been hearing stories about?"
"The same, interestingly enough." The Elite's smile never wavering as the doctor did some internal calculating.
Before too long, the Elite said, "It's a long story." The words interrupted the doc's thoughts, and his mind went completely back to the present making him ask plainly, "Why did the Savior of Two Sun bring me to his Legion fort?"
The Murderer/Local Hero responded playfully, "Well, I'd like to thank once more for accepting my request. I must first ask if my soldiers gave you any trouble?"
Doctor Stinson's eyes went to Aleron for a nervous moment. Aleron's covered face told him telepathically, "I'll only kill you if he tells me to" and so the doctor responded hesitantly to his "Hero";
"Well, they did throw one of my patients into the alley, and your guy there didn't let me volunteer peacefully... Only a little bit though" said the doctor in a humble but nearly tattle tale sort of manner.
Interfector turned to Aleron, "This true? You and the boys toss out his patient and then abduct him when he was willing to be escorted?"
The doctor looked to Aleron as well, feeling smug about seemingly getting him in trouble until Aleron replied, "Yes, Lord Interfector, his refusal to answer your summon was prevented by the forceful removal of that obstruction out the nearest open window. I also did not trust his request to volunteer since his prior words were laden with dissatisfaction at sight of your soldiers."
The Interfector thought for a minute, feeling the occasional glance from the doctor who felt like a kid getting his bully in trouble. The Murderer said, "Excellent. Your instincts are well implemented, Decanus. I'd say your conduct in town and execution of my instructions earns you, Aleron, a night off..." The doctor's face sank as Aleron responded to the perk and gratitude;
"Thank you, Lord Interfector. My Primus is very generous."
Turning to the doc who felt dissatisfied by Aleron's reward for that conduct, the Savior of Two Sun said, "... Now, as to why I summoned you here..." He placed two solid gold Legion coins in the doctor's hand as he said, "This oughtta cover the job..." and withdrawing two more, he added, "... And this should more than cover reparations to your misfortunate patient when you return home tonight."
As the four gold coins sat in the man's hands, the doctor said to his hero/abductor, "This is more than I make in six months. Even when I'm booked?... I don't think Pedro needs two auerus, I was almost done anyway and he wasn't even hur-... Why did you captu- hire me?"
The Elite's eyes narrowed as his smile grew bigger and his arm crept around the doctor's shoulder, "A very special old lady just needs a checkup..."
The group began walking towards the healing tent as the doctor asked, "That so? W- What happened to her?" somewhat confusedly.
The Savior responded, "The elderly healer I know has likely suffered a bit of an age-related problem. I just need you to have a look at her for now, see what you can do if anything. Hold off on anything major before I check back in with you."
Doctor Stinson acknowledged and added, "Age huh? Something broken, er...?"
The Murderer answered, "Yes, her spine, we believe. She can't walk and I really don't want to have this particular slave shot for uselessness, sooo..." Aleron opened the tent flap, and the doctor was pushed through the opening as The Savior added, "... See what you can do, I'll be back in an hour Doc."
The Elite left the doc alone and went to go introduce his other self to the mob, leaving Aleron on standby. Aleron posted up by the entryway to the healing tent, watching the distant spectacle and still wondering if this doctor was going to be involved in his evening voluntarily or involuntarily.
"Will this interfere with the evening?" asked Decanus Montano with a sneer.
Aleron kept watching the distant show of hollering wasteland trash cheering and running back to town to tell their friends about the offer's legitimacy. He casually glanced to Montano on the opposite side of the entryway, "I don't know what Lord Interfector will have me do this evening, but nothing will interfere. His interest in the dissolute could even be of benefit if the situation favors." said Aleron
"Ensure it happens, Decanus. I would never expect a coward to create a delay, or turn you one," said Montano, basking in the painful heat of the day.
"Interfector's word is first, but the man of interest is too much of a coward to get himself accidentally killed, so nothing will interfere," said Aleron, making the two exchange dead chuckles.
As the situation by the command tent winded down, Centurion Theracos exited the healing tent past the two. Decanus Gula exited shortly after, looking for Montano, but saw he'd posted himself right outside and ordered him into the enclosure. Aleron stood alone outside for a few more seconds before he saw the Interfector approaching at Theracos's side. Theracos walked past Aleron first and the Interfector signaled for him to follow.
The Interfector stepped up to the Grama who hadn't moved in two days, only able to tell the loaned servant laborers what to do from her bed. Suddenly surrounded by her owners of the 6th, and the strange Elite Centurion who'd led them for months, she couldn't say she cared for what the doctor diagnosed. That or his shaky hands; something she saw as cowardly for a man to have, even under the eye of those featherheaded officers that watched him work. So, as the Elite stepped up, the Grama squinted angrily at that town "Dentist/Surgeon."
"What's the prognosis, doc?" asked The Savior.
"Aint too good..." replied the doc, "I took a look, but afraid there ain't much I can do..."
The doctor went on to explain from what he could tell; her spine broke some special vertebrae, and the bottom line was that she'd never walk again. Plain and simple. "... Could probably fix it with a direct stimpack, realignment, plenty of bed rest, and... If she were a younger woman."
"I'll kill you, pussy" thought the Grama as the doc spoke.
"So..." The Interfector paused for a long moment before the weight of the diagnosis really sank in. When the situation finally settled into reality, The Elite turned to Centurion Theracos of the 6th, "Theracos? Permission to take charge of this slave's future?"
"Of course, My Primus," said Centurion Theracos in an emotionless authoritative tone.
The Grama only broke her scowl at the doctor when the Interfector took a seat on the stool beside her bed. She looked at the man's calm face and said with another scowl, "Ain't no use anymore. Put me down."
She continued to stare at the man as he remained silent. The silence making her frustrated until she was staring back up at the ceiling. Finally, The Savior said, "I don't have to do any of that... I could set you free."
The woman heard that, having never really heard the word "Free" in the past 16 years, she turned back to look at the Interfector's still emotionless face... However, that face wasn't The Murderer's. It wasn't the face of anyone Legion. Still, the woman heard the offer and asked "Alright? and go where? I still can't walk ever again. Even if I get somewhere, I won't be able to work for my keep."
She went to turn her head again, but stopped when the Hero of the Southern Wastes said, "I can and will have you carried into town. I will even offer you a monthly allowance and pay for someone to attend to your paralytic needs. You will never have to work again a day in your life, and all your necessities will be provided to you from my personal funds. Just say the word."
Something began to surface as she looked at the man. It almost broke from her eye when she asked the hero turned... something. She didn't know what this man was as the words "You'd actually do that?" escaped from her lips, tinged with disbelief, bewilderment, and the memory of how good things don't seem to really happen in this world.
The Savior said it in his face, demeanor, and words, "I really would."
The Grama couldn't believe someone like that would exist in this world, let alone in the Legion. She couldn't believe that 16 years of backbreaking work and abuse led to tolerance from her captors and then to actual legitimate freedom offered by the hands of someone an angel sent, not Mars. Then she remembered all the horror and stress and backbreaking work, and even times she had to pick up a weapon herself, if not for the Legion, then to protect herself from some attacking tribal horde. She spent so many years fighting for acceptance from her captors and just fighting to keep her captors alive off the battlefield. All that hard work and commitment just to stay alive in a world full of terror was something admirable even to the ones who owned her. Her defiance as a slave was earned by being more loyal to Caesar and fighting more battles internally and physically than any of the soldiers around her. She'd seen so many masked faces come and go and get replaced that she became more part of the 6th Century than Theracos himself. She thought of all those years of pain and overcoming the worst situations in the worst class of her society, and that offer of freedom, given to her by a strange commander who was seemingly Legion in name only. Then she remembered what happened to her back and the overwhelming image of herself withering away at some shack in a strange town full of dissolute trash like that doctor; kept alive and only waiting to die a quiet unnoticeable death. After becoming a "Witch Queen" of a tribe she herself had forgotten the name of, and after becoming the only slave in probably the whole Legion who wouldn't tolerate shit from her masters, that kind of slow fading death was more terrifying than the past 16 years of the Hell she'd lived. All of that Hell for a freedom she couldn't even take advantage of due to a simple injury two days prior.
No.
The lone tear broke free as the woman turned back to the ceiling, "N- No. Nope. Don't want that. I'm more Legion than anyone in this century, even Theracos. Ain't that right, centurion #4?..." Centurion Theracos remained silent, allowing her remark to go unpunished and for her to continue,"... I busted my ass for too many years just to rot away in some shack on someone else's denarii..."
"Are you sur-?" asked The Savior before getting cut off by the continuing slave;
"... Just do me a favor and make it a quick one."
"I'm sure I speak on behalf of the 6th Century as well as myself when I say your service to Caesar has been greatly appreciated," said the Elite as he stood himself up.
"Bite me..." replied the slave Grama, "... Oh and have Aleron do it. I wouldn't mind looking into those pretty blues before I go..."
Aleron internally acknowledged the fact that he removed his goggles upon entering the tent in order to see better in the darkened enclosure, so his eyes would in fact be visible if he were to put the gun to her forehead. Moving towards the exit and guiding the doctor, the Interfector replied to the Grama's request, "Can't, I need to speak to him and the doctor outside... Theracos? Would you mind?"
"Don't make me look at Theracos's ugly face before I go!" protested the Grama before saying, "Have Montano or Gula then-" The whole party filed out to leave her with Theracos.
The Murderer said, "Can't. Montano and Gula have accountability to take care of..." And the tent flap shut.
The Elite, doctor, and Aleron stood distant from the tent, awkwardly silent as the sun was setting and the encampment went about its routines. Aleron noticed Dalton the Prime approaching when Gula and Montano had disappeared into the camp; The Murderer said to the doc, "Thank you again for your time. It's a real shame nothing could be done. It isn't your fault though."
The Doc said, "Yeah... I- I suppose I c-"
*BANG*
A muffled gunshot came from the thick-walled tent behind them, and Centurion Theracos poked himself through the opening, calling for two nearby legionaries to gather a gas can and return. The Murderer overheard and corrected Theracos, "Make that a shovel. I'd say she earned a burial, wouldn't you?"
Centurion Theracos agreed and adjusted his directive as the Interfector said, "Didn't think he'd do it so fast. Anyway..." to nobody in particular. Dalton stepped up as the Elite placed two more coins in the doctor's hands, "Dalton, you're here just in time..."
As the doctor felt the growing pile of coins in his hands again, his eyes met the Savior or Murderer as the commander added, "... We have an opening in my Cohort's need for a healer, and I'd like to hire you. How do these two additional coins sound for an advance?"
The doctor was speechless. Not sure what to make of the entire day, between being abducted, forced inside the walls of the Legion fort, and meeting one of the most well known local heroes who happened to be in charge of the fort. Feeling the weight of the six gold coins in his hands and watching the last of those gunslingers depart back to Two Sun, he thought about what his hero did for that woman and how he fulfilled her wish no matter how morbid. Doctor Stinson had a lot on his mind, but if there was one thing the Hero of Two Sun/Murderer of Phoenix showed that day, it was that he was an honorable man, generous, and true to his word.
Doctor Stinson was still thinking things out when the Murderer added, "You'll be paid a standard rate of one denarius per day, and that isn't even to mention my terms for danger pay, or pay for extraordinary situations."
The doctor heard that, and finally managed to ask, "Danger huh? I don't know if I'm up to something like marching all over or fighting out there."
"So this is perfect. You'll be attached to the 6th Century as an independent contractor, and stationed here at the fort to be on call. The Cohort doesn't plan on marching anywhere in the near future, and I'll primarily be needing you to teach the Cohort's other healers how to actually treat injuries... Someone like you can be so very useful to this force, and... I also need to mention that I'll need you to stay here at the fort during the week. I will however allow your return back to town on the weekends provided nothing too exciting is going on. After all, can't have you making that trek to and from town whenever a wound needs proper stitching, right? haha."
The doctor again ran through all the events of the day and wondered how exactly working for the Legion would turn out. What would his wife say? He already knew how bad the argument with his wife would be just for being gone the whole day. He could hear it now, "Why did you let them abduct you? Today of all days! You promised you'd make time for lunch with my friends Sue and Everett? What about all those appointments you blew off!? You disappear for a whole day and then you return in a skirt and combat boots!?-"
The doc asked, "I don't have to wear the... gitup?"
"No. I'll need you away from any fighting, here mostly. Also, you'll be a contractor like I said, not a legionary" said the Elite, still grinning.
Doctor Stinson thought again, and again, and there were so many ifs going through his mind that he almost forgot to feel the weight of that gold in his hands. That amount of gold could fix almost all his problems back home, and time away from his wife wasn't always a bad thing. Then he thought of the man who'd given him all that gold, The Savior of Two Sun. A man who somehow became Legion by some tragic deed up north, but still returned to the southern wastes with all the honor and compassion a "Savior" would have, if that display with the "Grama" said anything; despite the ending. The doctor closed his fingers around the gold and put it in his pocket;
"I'll need to return to town and pack up some essentials yall might need and explain things to my wife, but... Sure. I'll take the job."
"Excellent!..." said the Murderer as the legionaries returned to the tent with shovels in hand. Turning to Dalton and Aleron, "Decanus Aleron? Dalton? Would the two of you care to escort our new physician back to town?"
Aleron and Dalton accepted the order while the doctor said, "That shouldn't be-" and was cut off;
"Boys, be on your best behavior with dear old doc here, no incidents like this morning" added the Murderer with a finger wag that might've been interpreted as sarcasm. Aleron and Dalton acknowledged as the Killer turned back to the doc, "I insist. Roads are dangerous after all, who better for protection than two of my personal best?"
The doctor agreed after a moment of hesitation, looking to "Dalton" as the more reasonable one opposed to his masked colleague. After a few more details were explained and another reminder from the commander to behave, the sun began lowering in the west when Dalton said, "Alright, let's head out Doc."
As the group dispersed, Aleron and Dalton began walking the doctor back out of camp when the Grama was brought out from the healing tent on a stretcher carried by Gabriella and Clara who were loaned to her as laborers before the incident. Following the body of Grama was Centurion Theracos himself seemingly with extra murder in his eyes and following him were the two shovel-wielding legionaries.
A Few Hours Later
The sky was dark, and though the sun had just disappeared, the lights of Two Sun were closer than ever. Probably another hour of walking and they'd enter the town limits. This was at least until Aleron and Dalton veered off the main road into town.
"Where are you going? The town's a straight shot?" asked the doctor.
"Follow" commanded Aleron in response as Dalton lied, "This is a shortcut."
The doctor recalled his special new relation with the Savior or Interfector and stopped in his tracks like a child. Decanus Aleron and Dalton noticed immediately, causing Dalton to say, "Let's go bud." as "friendly" as he could.
"No..." said the doc before that suspicion of being alone in the desert with those two got the better of him, "... Your boss said you'd take me to town-"
"And if you wish to live to see town, you'll follow us." said Aleron, narrowly stopping himself from destroying the doctor.
"You won't kill me. Your Lord-" said the doctor before feeling a pistol against his head.
How had Aleron closed the distance so fast?
"My Primus will throw me a parade for ridding him of the world's most cowardly and whiniest doctor. Not to mention what I'll receive for returning his gold. Now. You want to return home, right?" said Aleron as he pressed the barrel further into the man's forehead.
"You really do have nice eyes.. Shame you hide them most of the time..." said the doctor, looking into Aleron's "Pretty blues" while steel was leaving a ring on his face. He read Aleron's eyes "Voluntarily or Involuntarily?"
The doc replied, "Where are we going, fellas?"
Aleron studied him again for a long moment, "I'll choose to believe you this time." The Decanus holstered his weapon.
The three set off into the desert off the main road from Long Shadows to Two Sun and walked into a deep wash that winded every direction. The soft sands of the wash consumed their feet, and the sky got darker, making the underbrush, cacti, and large dead bushes come out of nowhere. Along the way, they rounded corners in the cliff and made their way through narrow paths in the shrubbery for a little over 30 minutes. The doctor complained the entire time, an irritating noise that was only tolerated by Aleron and Dalton if it meant the doctor wouldn't delay their evening further by running.
"They're just gonna kill me out here. I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Your boss, er- Inter-Primus is gonna be real mad if you guys hurt me."
"Where are we going? We'd almost be there by now."
Aleron and Dalton tuned most of his noise out because, after around 30 minutes, Aleron could see the faintest glow around the next rock formation. The three rounded the corner and there they found themselves in an open section of the wash. Small cliffs were on all sides, covered in foliage, and in the middle was the source of that glow. A roaring fire was made in the center of the wash and around it were about eight or nine legionaries silhouetted against the bright fire in the dark desert hideaway. Aleron saw the little boxes of his demands beside the rock formation entryway and approached them. The legionaries around the fire saw them arrive and began forming a ring while one of the ones with a feathered helmet stepped into the center and began removing his armor.
Doctor Stinson looked at the scene, and his paranoid mind seemed to confirm one of his many suspicions: the one about him being sacrificed in some crazy Legion ritual. This scene checked all the boxes his mind created; nighttime, fire, crazies standing in a circle, and one doing... something. Thinking Aleron was opening those boxes for a ritual knife, the doctor nearly found himself crying by his own imagined end,
"What is this? Why did you bring me out here?"
Aleron turned from the first open box to the doctor and pointed to the man in the ring, "Decanus Montano over there is going to need a doctor when I'm done with him."
A/N: Next chapter is a tad on the graphic side again... Let me know in the reviews if yall think I should change the rating to "M" lol. I feel like M stories don't get seen by as many casual readers, but it's hard to write a story about the Legion that's all sunshine and rainbows and still capture the kind of scene I want to create.