Montano Pt IV

Mid 2281

The hours turned into days and those days turned into weeks, yet Montano remained in captivity. Stuck in the worst place a servant of Caesar could be imprisoned, the pain in his own mind was far worse than the pain received in any battle he'd ever been in. Montano survived the ambush outside Vegas and was escorted through the whirlwind of bullets to the arms of more NCR troopers patrolling the headquarters at McCarran. Brief glimpses during the attack showed that Falco had been left behind and Montano screamed and screamed into his gag as he was shoved along. He begged in his frenzy for his captors to return with Falco but none of them did and his staff's senior had been left for the wolves. With no reason to believe he'd ever see Falco again, he wasn't able to be proud of his decanus coming to death as his frenzy turned even more towards the lack of competence in NCR forces. Montano couldn't believe the nation that prided itself on its treatment of POWs and philosophy of "no man left behind" would not hold up the principles they stood for, and this made Montano even more vicious and uncooperative.

Montano was pushed through the gates of McCarran, past the sentries behind sandbags pointing their weapons at him as patrols stormed past to reinforce their perimeter against the raiders. Into the headquarters of the profligate military he went, his protests revitalized by each soldier in brown he saw. Every bout of vicious struggle continued to be consistently met with successful efforts to subdue him, and up the steps he went to a holding area on the west end of the profligate facility. There he sat, chained to a bench overlooking the large interior of this building and looking up at the giant air vehicle hanging from the ceiling. His escorts had left for further instructions and Montano unconsciously attempted to break from his shackles on the steel bench as his eyes took in the place. Dozens of NCR soldiers roamed the place, going up and down the stairs, this way and that, patrolling and walking to their prospective assignments, and many took notice of the prisoner still struggling with his restraints even as the blood started to drip down his wrists.

"They actually caught one!..." said one profligate soldier to his friends as they passed Montano.

"Two!" screamed Montano into his mouth gag as he let loose another spree of curse words that again went unheard as the profligates passed him.

Then it hit him. Montano looked to the rest of the bench on his right and he was again reminded that Falco was not there. Montano was all alone now, a complete failure who landed himself in enemy captivity with not even the comfort of a familiar face anymore. The thoughts of his failure began to weigh on him again as the troopers from across the base began to congregate around him like a zoo animal, offering their insults to the legionary before going about their duties. The only solace Montano found in this humiliation was the fact that the crowd offered an excellent means of distracting him from the continuing weight of his failure. The weight continued to crush him ever so slowly, and just when it threatened to consume him due to his inability to adequately respond to the gawkers, he remembered that his death would still happen... It was just on hold, even at this point.

Roughly ten minutes passed when finally, a pair of officers approached him and dispersed the crowd of troopers. One of the officers was a woman, and the other was a man. One a lieutenant, and the other a captain respectively. Their stop before the prisoner made Montano lower his head as the crowd left for their duties or attempted to spend their "respite" at one of the "gambling machines" overlooking the terminal building. Montano sat there horrendously bloodied, bruised, and broken, his hanging head and long sweaty black hair hanging in front of his face like a mask of its own. The officers did what they could to look past the black wet hair without getting too close, but could only see a face covered in reopened scars, drenched in blood, dirt, debris, and a face so bruised that Montano didn't even look like a human being. Montano breathed heavily before the officers, feeling their gaze and feeling the blood rush to the site of so much beating between the night of the battle and the defiance he gave to his captors along the journey. The officers stood there, speaking softly to one another and marveling at the breathing statue of this shackled embodiment of the east. Finally, the officers observed as much of the man as they needed to and began speaking loud enough for the prisoner to overhear.

"This one have a name?" asked the male captain.

"If Sergeant Barnes is right, that's a negative... Just another nameless slave of that Arizona creep." Said the female officer.

Montano stayed silent, knowing anything he said would be obstructed by the gag. He could only think and let his rage fester.

"What about rank?..." asked the captain before adding, "Or what about battalion- er, 'Kentury'? Any unit indicators? Willingness to cooperate? Anything?"

The female officer let out a laugh, "Willingness to cooperate? Ha! Look at him. Sergeant Barnes said this guy tried to run into the Fiends' bullets..."

The captain nodded to himself as he studied the prisoner before saying, "That didn't answer the questions, Boyd."

The female lieutenant, "Boyd" said, "Apologies, Captain, but nothing about unit came with this guy. Sergeant Barnes only said that he and his friend wore the marks of a prime before they were subdued and stripped."

The captain silently nodded once more as he continued looking over the blood-covered statue chained to a bench. The captain briefly wondered where the prisoner's "friend" was before he remembered overhearing the part where one of them was killed or left for the Fiends. After a moment, Lieutenant Boyd asked, "... Want me to see if I can pry his name or 'proper' rank out of him?..."

The captain looked at Boyd in confusion for a moment until Boyd added, "I heard from our last captured legionaries that some of these guys don't wear their true ranks in battle anymore... Our new friend here could be a gold mine and we don't even know it."

Boyd waited and studied the prisoner as the captain thought to himself. After a few seconds of contemplation, the captain replied, "... And you believe that, Boyd?"

"Sir?..." asked Boyd before the captain said,

"You can't believe one word of these creeps..." He paused before approaching the lower officer diplomatically, "I don't mean to diminish your tasks, but I can almost assure you that whatever you've managed to get out of any previous captives has been a lie. I mean... just look at this man..."

Boyd and the captain looked over Montano once more who still hadn't moved, "... This man wanted to die in battle. He's going to do anything he can to see that he dies in captivity. Believe me, I know plenty of boys in the rangers who can vouch for the nature of these merciless sacks of garbage..." Boyd looked at the captain and the prisoner then the superior added, "Even if you get anything out of these guys, it's almost a certainty that it'll only be a lie... If you ask me, the best thing to do with this guy is give him what he wants and put a bullet in his brain. Anything else will just be a waste of my time and yours."

"YES!" Thought Montano as his head hung unmoving, ready to feel the lieutenant's 9mm against his skull.

The bullet never came, and the weapons of both officers remained in their holsters as Boyd said, "I know what you mean, sir. Still, there may be some value in what the last prisoner said. After all, we've never captured a centurion or anything higher than a prime... That's got me thinking there might be something to it."

"That's what they wanted you to think, Boyd..." said the captain with a subtle laugh. The captain gestured to the prisoner again, "Just look at him. You think this fucking savage or his friends are smart enough to have learned something from their defeat at the Dam? Guys like him will happily get bullet holes in their giant helmets if they get to die for that maniac across the river."

"I don't know, sir. I feel like we surely would have captured one of their officers or something by now unless there was some bad intel out there."

The captain said with another dry chuckle, "Alright, Boyd. Feel free to try your best to get something out of this one. Just don't be surprised if he 'reveals' exactly what you're looking to hear. All I'm saying is that he's looking to do as much damage to us as he can before he gets a chance to off himself, so take whatever he says with a grain of salt. And don't worry, we'll manage to get one of their officers one of these days, you mark my words."

"Noted, sir..." said Lieutenant Boyd before kicking Montano in the boot and saying, "Alright Legion man, git'up."

Montano refused to stand, and Boyd hesitated before getting too close. The captain noticed this and chuckled as he said, "See what I mean? Defiant to the end..."

"Chipping away at these guys' spirit is my favorite part of the job, Captain..." said Boyd as she called over two additional troopers to help escort Montano away.

The captain watched this before deciding it was time to go. As Montano was unchained and his resistance was tamed by the escorts, the captain said, "Hey, Boyd. I gotta check in with Forlorn Hope today, so I'll see if they reported a dead centurion after the battle that got us this fella."

"Much appreciated, Captain Curtis. We'll see if I can't get anything out of this guy before you hear back..." said Boyd to the captain. The captain called "Curtis" departed, and Boyd said to Montano as the legionary was escorted to a cell, "Doubt a piece of shit like you is capable of being more than a nameless pion, but let's see what I can get out of you... Come on boys, cell's over here."

Montano was thrown into a cell in the McCarran jail, but was almost immediately isolated to his own room in a desolate supply closet the same day. Stuck in the Camp McCarran military jail, Montano was left in the presence of three troopers facing prison time for drug use, as well as a pair of civilians convicted of some other wrongdoing against the NCR military. Normally, legion prisoners were kept isolated from the rest of the jail population, but space was limited, and Montano's struggle was considered rather tame compared to others. Believing Montano had tired himself out on the march to McCarran, Boyd felt it was alright to leave him in an occupied jail cell, at least until accommodations could be made in one of the supply closets later that day. However, Boyd was mistaken.

Not more than 10 minutes after Boyd and the escorts departed, Montano managed to break the neck of one of the imprisoned NCR soldiers with his shackled hands and was in the process of pummeling the two others while the two civilians screamed for aid that came in the form of six armed troopers. Montano watched his secondary plans of hanging himself with the troopers' clothing disappear when all three of the imprisoned soldiers were taken out of the cell for medical treatment and one burial. Montano was then chained to a lone bench in the enclosure and even his attempts to goad the civilians into beating him to death failed as they stood in one corner, more worried about the strength of Montano's confines than the slurs he spat at them. Not long later, Montano was escorted to a nearby janitors closet that was stripped of everything but the floor tiles, chained to a radiator, and left to himself with one guard on the other side of the door. Despite not having access to any lethal tools in his bound state, this was still the moment when Montano decided to act on his plans to die.

Montano would never be left unrestrained or have the opportunity to die at his own hands or the actions of others. He knew that any slip in his captors' observation would put an immediate end to any potential plans to take his life, but perhaps they wouldn't notice a slowly fading life. Over the hours and eventual days, Montano would decline to eat and drink. He would step on the trays of slop he was offered and kick over the canteens of water. The jailors who saw this never cared, even as his daily interrogations became less and less reliable as his brain deteriorated with starvation and dehydration. Montano was very beligerant in his defiance to all the questions sent his way by Boyd in his daily interrogations. The officer in charge of the McCarran jail, interviewed him constantly, only to her frustration. Even the things Montano did disclose would directly contradict the things he said the previous day. He begged for beatings that never came as he felt his body weaken and weaken, but still his captors stayed their hands, knowing that pain and death was all he wanted. The NCR knew that their humane treatment of this savage servant of Caesar was the worst torture they could inflict upon him, and they noticed this even as he began to deteriorate further.

Less than a week after his imprisonment at McCarran, Montano was unable to stand for an interview by the MPs and his condition was quickly identified when accounts from the jailors were corroborated. Just as Montano found himself sufficiently dehydrated, starving, and knocking on death's door, his body had betrayed him. His inability to stand for one more interrogation sent his jailors into emergency mode and he was pulled from the path to join the rest of Caesar's fallen when he awoke in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and receiving the care he did not want. The military nurse expected her patient to be grateful for her tireless work, but was surprised to hear her patient start hurling threats of rape to her for the noble work. The shackles on her patient's bed made sense and Montano screamed and pleaded and begged for death once more.

This continued for several weeks as Montano stayed at Camp McCarran. Montano fell into an agonizing cycle of non-compliance with his captors just till he could starve himself to the point of death before awaking yet again under restorative treatment he did not want. The duelist lost track of time not long after awaking from his first attempt at starvation, but the days bled into weeks and it is believed that Montano spent roughly four months in captivity at McCarran. Locked into the cycle of starving himself and undergoing recovery, his time awake and under interrogation remained a burden for the NCR's warden. Montano had revealed plenty, and none of it was reliable. He had kept true to the assumed notions of that first day and became only a hindrance to the NCR whenever he wasn't inching towards that slow death. Even his name had gone from Centurion Aurelius, to Recruit Gula, to Lord Interfector, to Centurion Theracos, to Decanus Montano, to Veteran Sereno, and even to Legatus Naughtius Maximus. In the end, the NCR had no idea who they had in their captivity, and everything he said about Legion operations was completely obsolete or irrelevant when NCR actually looked into any of it. Yet, Montano remained alive. Finally, after many weeks in captivity, after many unsuccessful attempts to take his own life, and after countless useless interrogations, the calendar had turned to late September, and the NCR decided to wash their hands of him.

Montano was escorted out of his personal cell one day shortly after his most recent recovery from starvation under the words that he was to be transferred in order to make room for new prisoners. Montano refused to struggle this time, and walked between two soldiers who chained him to his regular bench on the second floor of the terminal building. He had been chained to this bench many times since arriving at McCarran, due to NCR law demanding prisoners be given time outside their cell for "recreation." Although the troopers never unbound Montano to partake in any legitimate "recreation," he didn't mind the regular change of scenery or the insults from passing troopers. However, by this point, Montano was no longer the amusing attraction he used to be. Most troopers ignored him, and the usual focus on his coming death was a great way to avoid the thoughts of failure with the change of scenery. This time, and without even thinking about it, Montano's protests were quelled by knowing this transfer could offer another more rapid means of death. As Montano sat quiet and calmly on that bench, he was about three-quarters of the weight he was when he arrived, and his brain was dulled by so many run-ins with death by starvation. So, Montano remained like the statue full of the numb hate that he embodied, the pain of failure laying far in the deepest parts of his mind by knowing his death could come in any number of ways on the march to wherever his transfer was taking him. Just like another piece of old world furniture in this massive old airport building, Montano watched the soldiers pass on by as his escorts smoked their cigarettes on both sides of the bench.

The prisoner briefly wished the troopers would congregate around him like usual for distraction, but the thought of his coming death kept that pain of failure away, and he took a bit of extra solace in knowing that he had not given his captors anything. At thought of that, Montano gave a tired grin at his loyalty till the end as he watched more and more troopers pass by, completely ignoring him. This new isolation, even by his captors, still hit him in a way he didn't expect. Especially when he overheard a group of nearby troopers leaning on the second floor balcony beside some "slot machines" and talking about the aerial vehicle hanging from the vaulted ceiling.

All Montano heard was one of the troopers say to his comrade in the middle, "... How you know so much about airplanes, Adler?"

The one in the middle apparently called "Adler" replied simply, "I had a book about them growing up. It was the only reading material our family had back at our ranch, so I read the thing too many times. If only we had more practical reading material, I coulda filled my head with something useful haha."

The trooper on the right said, "That stuff ain't useless. You should talk to LT about getting yourself transferred to the airwing. Your real mistake was joining the infantry when you should be working on BearForce One at some cushy station out west with a brain like yours."

"I ain't smart enough for something like that... Why do you think I joined the infantry? Haha" said Adler, causing his friends to chuckle as well.

The second trooper on the right assured his friend and decided to test him further, "Nonsense, you know enough. Like..." the trooper pointed up at the aircraft, "What's that glass part called? The round part there where the driver sits?"

"That's the 'canopy', and that's where the 'pilot' sits," said Adler with a hint of embarrassment for such support from his pals.

Trooper Adler's friends went on testing his knowledge about obsolete vehicles from a long dead era, and Adler showed off his expertise. Whether or not he was making up the information he was telling was irrelevant, the man's friends were captured and Montano tuned out as this went on for a while longer. Montano's attention was only brought back to the conversation when one of the nameless troopers pointed up at the aircraft and asked;

"... How about that part? The flap thing on the wings."

Adler replied, already growing tired of these tests, "That's called the 'Aileron', and before you ask, it's used to control the 'roll' of the aircraft... or, to help change directions for you simpletons..."

Montano heard the name of that part and heard the word "Aleron." Montano hadn't thought about that man since getting captured, and Montano wished it stayed that way. Hearing that name again, or even something so close to it made the dull feeling of isolation weigh on him even more as he waited on that bench. Montano took another look around the vast terminal building, saw more troopers patrolling or going about their business, and all of them continued to completely ignore him. "How far have I come?" Montano thought as he reflected on everything he'd lived through, everything he fought through, and where he ultimately ended up. Hearing that name again reminded him of every deed he'd done on that glorious path since he first met the man. How his first interaction with the young officer called "Aleron" was the very moment that he'd been ripped out of the masked ranks of the rest of the Legion. How that very first fight, and what it later offered him mentally was a supreme purpose.

Montano could and would have died just another masked face on a field in some other battle maybe years earlier, but it was because of Aleron that he continued to strive onward. It was because of Aleron and what he wanted to do to the man in one of their fights that kept him moving forward, striving for more glory and renown far in front of the rest of those masked faces tumbling to the ground with the burst of machineguns from so many enemies. It was because of Aleron and his vicious hatred and respect for the man that he stood out from the ranks and outright refused to return to them when there was honor to be gained for Lord Caesar just waiting to be seized in the smoke of battle. Montano continued to reflect on his life all the way up to the moment he finally had Aleron where he wanted him in their last fight after the death of Graham... Montano had won, and that victory caused him to serve so excellently in the following years of eastern reconquest and western terror until...

Upon remembering where he was and feeling the restraints around his wrists, Montano couldn't figure out whether or not his ultimate conclusion about Aleron was one of even more respect or even more hatred. Before Montano could further consider his feelings for his rival, the only conclusion he could come to was one of simple fact: Aleron was still alive. Knowing his rival was still alive and believing his own death was still just a matter of time, Montano could only sit on that bench and hope that Aleron would remember what he achieved due to their glorious rivalry and not change the direction of the plane.

Montano felt the first words that weren't slurs towards his captors leave his lips when he found himself saying to his rival's spirit from that little bench, "Don't you ever forget me or fail Lord Caesar like I did, Aleron."

The cigarette dropped out of the mouth of one of the escorts on his left, shocked at hearing any non curse words from the prisoner. Before the trooper or his friend could address this fact in the lackadaisical manner characteristic of NCR troopers, both Montano and the guards' attention was turned towards a distant voice shouting;

Up the nearby escalator came Lieutenant Boyd at the front of a four man escort, bringing in a full on Legion Centurion, in the proper armor and plumed helmet. Boyd shouted towards the officer leaning on the distant stretch of the second floor balcony, "You were right Captain Curtis! We finally got one! Says his name is Silus too!"

All the idle troopers around the terminal turned towards the captured centurion, again forgetting Montano's existence with the new arrival. The distant Captain Curtis shouted back in a dry tone, "I knew you would!"

Montano was busy studying the newly captured centurion being escorted to his old cell, marveling at the stupidity of this centurion called "Silus" who got himself captured in full garb. Montano never heard of this officer, and assumed him to be one of the less experienced ones that Caesar brought up from New Mexico or somewhere, and Montano felt he failed in a new way by not being there to address the man's battlefield appearal on this front. Either way, "Silus" was too far to study as he disappeared into the cell and the guards exited along with the officer. Just then, the Captain Curtis shouted across the way;

"Suppose you can dispose of the old one, Boyd! The Centurion certainly Looks like he'll cooperate!"

"Here's hoping..." said Boyd as she dispersed the escort before adding, "But that's a negative. This one here is getting transferred west!"

Captain Curtis had maneuvered himself closer to Boyd and Montano, standing roughly 30 yards away and apparently studying Montano from the distance. Montano's face was still horrifically bruised and the months in captivity created a large beard on his face that covered most of the area not covered in bruises or old scars. The captain stood there for a long moment seemingly trying to identify the captive duelist, but soon gave up. Finally, the captain said to Boyd;

"Fine. I still think you should put a bullet in this one."

"The road's a dangerous place, captain. But this guy's going west..." answered Boyd and the captain walked off.

Montano felt his wrists get unbound and the protest he offered was minimal as he was more focused on the last look from Captain Curtis. Montano hadn't met with Captain Curtis at any time during his entire captivity, but what little he heard about him was something Montano wondered about on many occasions. After many unsuccessful interrogations, Montano was usually thrown back in his cell by his guards who'd always say something along the lines of, "I see Curtis is still right about you. Should just put a bullet in you and save Boyd the trouble. Lucky you, that's above my paygrade." Montano continued to wonder why that captain was seemingly the only officer in the whole base who wanted to give Montano what he wanted throughout his whole captivity. Not only this, but Montano learned in passing shortly after his arrival at McCarran that the captain did actually follow up with the NCR at Forlorn Hope and said that there was a centurion amongst the dead of Montano's final battle. Lacking the ability to transport a potentially half-rotten centurion across the Mojave to McCarran, Lieutenant Boyd apparently took the captain's word. The most bewildering thing about this was the fact that Montano and Tubero were both disguised as prime legionaries that night, so Montano didn't quite know what to think. Either way, Montano was no longer of use to the NCR, as evidenced by his impending transfer. However, even up to this moment, the captain was the only one who knew what to do with someone who outlived their usefulness.

Montano was then stood up and four other men joined his two man escort down the stairs.

A Few Weeks Later

Montano was escorted south from the NCR's headquarters at McCarran airport, leaving the bright city of New Vegas far behind. The trip took many more days than he originally expected. His group regularly had to stop to evade bands of raiders, and even though he wanted to throw himself into their guns, the group of troopers was an experienced bunch and his restraints prevented him from inciting his death. Slowly they went across the desert as Montano was forcibly shuffled along with his legs and arms bound, linking up with southbound caravans whenever possible and entering into the desert when they were left alone. His arrival at the solar station called "Helios One" was a welcome surprise as he knew the place was in striking range of the southern terror force's raiders. Unfortunately for Montano, his escort was kept well informed on all the activities across the south and they even stayed at Helios One for a few days until a ranger group from Hoover Dam could arrive and quell the Legion activity across the south. After that, Montano departed once more and the days bled into each other till he found himself shuffling west between the six guns around him.

The desert heat offered plenty of chances to dehydrate himself, but once again, he would find himself ripped out of the grip of death by a canteen rushing water down his throat. Still, more days passed and Montano and his group diverted south down the I-15 from a town called "Primm." Up the hill, he went, towards the colossal statues of two men between the mountains and towering over the old I-15. Under the legs of the monument they continued, and Montano fantasized about the day the Legion would burn this monument of "Ranger Unification" to the ground as he officially entered NCR territory proper.

The party proceeded south along the 15 for roughly three days after passing under the NCR's "Ranger Monument" at the Mojave border. Along the way, they passed a few large camps where soldiers congregated before moving north to the Mojave. On that third day, Montano had finally reached his destination. Just where the I-15 began going west, Montano was escorted to the last NCR military installation near the Mojave border. Set around an old-world train station, Montano saw the large block at the end of what appeared to be an intact rail line before shuffling through the gates and into the surrounding tent city. Many soldiers patrolled the place, but Montano noticed a majority of the tents were full of supplies and crates. More troopers gawked at him while he continued along and he ignored the words hurled his way, more focused on the uproar of shouting coming from the west edge of the camp.

At last, Montano entered a city of tiny shacks, each one with a barred door, and all set in rows near the train platform. Montano passed by many vacant jail shacks, but the further he went, the louder the shouts became until he eventually started seeing the men in crimson and black behind the bars shouting at the patrolling jailors and even himself. Many of the captive legionaries noticed their new brother and assured him that they would kill him as soon as the opportunity was available between the mix of slurs. Montano appreciated this, and telepathically assured his imprisoned brothers that he'd return the favor if possible. Just as soon as Montano knew that this was going to be his new world for the time being, he was tossed into one of the vacant shacks. The door slammed shut behind him with a lock and after briefly scanning the place for some means of taking his own life, he concluded that starvation or dehydration remained the only means of accomplishing his goal.

As much as Montano wanted to join his fellow captive brothers in their shouting defiance, Montano instead propped himself on the partially torn cot within the cell and sat there silently, hoping the heat would assist in his suicidal endeavors. Still, Montano knew that even if he'd become dehydrated or starved enough, he could see the gaggle of profligate soldiers on the nearby train platform, and all eight of them wore those devilish red cross armbands as they looked over the prison town. There, Montano sat, already getting a head start on his attempt to starve himself despite knowing his inevitable restoration, and all was lost.

Of the roughly 100 or so jail shacks he saw on the walk in, he could guess that around 30 of them were occupied by his brothers, and he was the newest addition. Although 30 was more than he would have ever guessed as the amount of captured legionaries in this campaign, he wondered how long they had been here and knew that there would be more coming in before Caesar finally liberated this place and saw to their ends.

Montano looked across the path between the cells and knew by their continued protests that each one of these captured servants of Caesar were still brave souls. Despite his admiration of their ongoing struggle, and despite his new understanding that captivity was sometimes inevitable, the fact remained that they were all still failures to Lord Caesar.

The duelist lost track of time very early into his new incarceration, but it is believed that a few more weeks passed at this new jail. Still, just like before, Montano's attempts to die were prevented each and every time, and the same could be said for the other legionaries across the camp. All the while, Montano thought in the solitude, and the feeling of failure he'd been battling since that night in the Forlorn Hope No Man's Land had finally consumed him. He would still attempt to die, thanks to that ingrained reflex, but Montano eventually concluded that he was already dead when the full weight of his failure consumed him.

So, there Montano sat, completely silent in his jail cell, day after day, and his mind was blank as he waited till his next removal from the grip of death. Only a handful of the other jail cells were filled up over the weeks and the guards making their rounds between the rows changed by the week as the previous ones were pushed further up the line. Many of the new guards indulged in their opportunity to gloat in front of the savage prisoners, and that chorus of defiance continued day after day while Montano remained silent.

Eventually, the prisoners across from Montano began to hurl the occasional insult his way for not partaking in the mudslinging. "If only I could tell them who I am" thought Montano on many occasions as he continued his silence before his thought was intercepted in its telepathic way. Although Montano was so slim by this point and the length of his beard and hair made him unrecognizable, many of the legionaries across the path had not lost their ability to receive messages in that way, and understood that Montano's silence was due to some sort of importance in his rank. Montano would hear this message communicated in the loud apologies sent his way after a string of slurs and he silently pardoned each one as his eyes remained on the wall of his shack.

After so long in this new jail and after being revived countless more times, Montano finally overheard what was going to happen to him and his comrades in captivity. NCR had finally captured enough servants of Caesar to do something with them. There wasn't a hundred now, but apparently, the NCR expedited their plans with these Legion prisoners of war when a "reporter" from the west visited the holding center around two weeks earlier. The reporter was supposedly appalled by the conditions of the prison and managed to learn that some of these POWs had been in the same cell for months through the endless series of slurs sent his way. Sitting all day in the heat and only leaving their cells to empty their waste buckets once a week was deemed too "inhumane" by the reporter. So, after the reporter threatened to release the treatment of Legion captives to the broader NCR public, the military agreed to take action. The day he learned NCR was sending a locomotive to transfer the Legion prisoners to an actual NCR prison was a noteworthy one since the new group of guards were a loud bunch of young rangers who clearly hadn't seen any action based on their lack of humility and overwhelming bravado.

It was late at night and Montano had just broken from his usual trance to hear the group of patrolling rangers saying that the train would be at this camp in two days. Montano had long since learned how to tune out the perpetual shouting from his comrades, and this made it possible for him to hear the news. Now, Montano had no desire to hear the news as he was already a day and a half into dehydration after another recent recovery, but the short break from his focus on death allowed him to take notice of the ranger guards. Every now and then, Montano had to fight the urge to drink from the small pool of dirty water in the corner of his cell, and he did so by silently belittling the nature of his captors. His particular disgust for this group of rangers led him to following their actions and growing even angrier at their unearned bravado. Being amidst one of the louder sections of the captive line, Montano's eyes eventually landed on a pair of rangers setting up a radio on a foldout table.

The shouts increased amongst those who could see the radio being set up until they trailed off in their usual way. This happened until the jails on his right began shouting a series of slurs at one of the ranger women Montano couldn't see. Montano didn't think much of this as it had been normal for so long, even as he heard the footsteps getting closer beneath the shouts.

"A degenerate like you should be bent over a log, whore!", "I will gut you and skin you alive!", "Bitches like you are only fit for one thing!", "May Caesar's wrath burn you alive!"

All of this was normal and Montano thought it was the woman he'd seen the past few nights. Again, Montano shrugged this thought out of his mind and went back to staring at the wall until the shouting faded into the background and he caught glimpse of a presence outside his cell's bars. This silent interruption stole his attention and he couldn't help himself but look to its source. Just beyond the bars and staring into his cell was the ranger woman he suspected, but why she was standing there was an irritating mystery that needed to be addressed. Before demanding the reason for her presence, he saw the figure of that woman and his partially dehydrated brain made her appear like Clara in the moonlight. He wanted to ask why Clara was dressed as a profligate ranger, but his mind returned to reality and he saw the ranger still standing there in the ranger civilian regalia, with one hand on what appeared to be a booklet and another on the bars.

"Why is this fucking child staring at me?" Montano thought, as he returned his attention to the walls still partially thinking about Clara.

The ranger woman didn't move and Montano almost immediately forgot about her presence until he heard something skidding noisily across the dirt. This made Montano's attention return to the woman who had just flipped over a nearby bucket and took her seat on it in front of his bars.

Returning to the woman, he couldn't make out much of her in the moonlight other than her youthful figure, braided hair, and darker skin. Montano understood why all his brothers emphasized their brutal sexual desires for this particular profligate, but Montano did not intend to tell her things she already knew, and instead turned back to the wall wondering if Clara had some other long-lost sister. Just as Montano began wondering how well his rival was taking care of his servants and land, the woman began drumming her fingers on the bucket. This irritated Montano immensely, but still, his thoughts remained on Aleron. Before he could think much further about the man he tried hard not to, the woman beyond the bars spoke to him;

"…The rest of you want to rape me, kill me, rape then kill me, and one of you wants to kill THEN rape me," she shuddered. "What? You shy? Got nothing to say?"

"That's not Clara's voice" thought Montano vacantly as he turned his head to the ranger woman, more irritated by his removal from focus on the wall than anything. Still, Montano was partially gracious for being rescued from thinking of Aleron and where he likely was now. Montano imagined his rival likely marching on New Vegas by this point and as glad as he was for a Legion victory at the Dam, remembering where he was and who was on the other side of the bars made his inner rage grow. Montano's biggest hatred in the whole world was how the weight of his failure refused to crush him to death. Montano did not mind his captivity when he was able to silently believe he was already dead. This however was impossible to believe when the world around him refused to allow him to whither away by showing up with its awful presence. Montano hated any reminder that he was still alive, and his address by someone like this young ranger woman was yet another reminder of his continued existence. He knew that the best course of action was to remain silent or return to the wall, but this one would not take silence as an answer for some unknown reason. Montano sought to finally give the girl what she wanted, if only so it would rid him of her presence.

"No," Montano finally growled and went to turn his head again before he noticed her about to say something else. Seeking to end this before it began, he added "I've nothing to say to you."

He turned his head back to the wall and immediately tried to forget her existence as well as his own when the woman instantly proclaimed; "And finally, we have a reaction!..."

He saw her throw her hands in the air to celebrate out of the corner of his eye. "Go away, go away, go away, go away..." Montano thought until she ignored his unspoken directive by saying;

"You've been so quiet some of the boys thought you might be having second thoughts about the whole Legion thing..."

"What the fuck?" Thought Montano as the woman went on, "They were afraid we'd have to try and "rehabilitate" you," she snickered.

Montano for the life of him couldn't understand what any of those words meant, especially the "second thoughts" thing about his eternal allegiance, but he unconsciously found himself returning his focus to the ranger and saying, "You can't rehabilitate me, girl..."

He locked eyes with her, studying her abominable face adorned in sarcastic elation as he stewed on the awful sound of her laugh. The more he looked into her face, the more he hated it, and wished once again that she would leave him alone. "I'm perfectly sane..." said Montano, feeling his rage at his predicament grow and seeing that terrible smile as a reminder of where he was.

His rage increased slowly in the milliseconds after his statement. His war between his desire for solitude and indulging the profligate showing the victor when he spat dryly, "You know who isn't sane? Your commanders, for parading around a piece of meat in front of a bunch of crazed and hungry animals. Unless that was your decision, in which case you must either be too curious for your own good or just plain stupid."

"And what do you think?" she asked, her smile receding.

"Perhaps I'll be polite and go with the former," Montano grinned as he found his eyes wandered up and down her body. Montano wished to return to solitude, but something was growing inside him that felt vaguely familiar. Something that wasn't his primal urges for the Clara lookalike.

That feeling of failure overwhelmed every characteristic Montano formerly held, and it would continue to do so in time to come, but the simple words of this profligate sparked something in him that he'd forgotten about since he was consumed by the weight of failure. Montano couldn't quite figure out what this revived feeling was exactly, but the woman went on;

"… Well then," she continued, reaching behind her and pulling out a knapsack. "Seeing as how you can attempt to be "civilized," may I go so far as to task you with representing the other prisoners, Mister?…"

That feeling went to the back of his mind with the new words from the woman. "Gula," Montano answered the question reflexively before demanding, "What exactly do you mean by 'representing' the others?..."

Montano just then noticed the shouts from his confined brothers hadn't ceased for one second and he thought he understood what the woman was getting at. Before she could answer, Montano tuned his brothers out once again and asked her with blood dripping from his every word, "Perhaps you've mistaken my silence as a willingness to cooperate?"

The ranger heard this, but still explained as if he hadn't leaped to the point, "… Despite your people's lack of cooperation, some of our more "liberal-minded" members within our organization..." she rolled her eyes, "are willing to make your lives in our custody more comfortable in exchange for good behavior and useful information."

Montano let the words hang in the air for a long moment until they seeped further into his mind, making him begin softly cackling like a madman. The woman raised an eyebrow at this and Montano said murderously between his dehydrated laughs, "That's why you approached me?..." He began laughing a bit more before saying, "I thought you were more looks than brains. Good to know I was right... Let me guess? The men over there put you up to this!?"

She glanced behind herself towards the other rangers now tuning their set-up radio. Looking back to Montano, the woman ignored his insult and addressed her prior remark, "It's true... You can help us and earn yourself better digs. Might as well since your grip on the Mojave is getting weaker and weaker. I'd say it's only a matter of time before your 'Emperor' fails at the Dam, again-"

Like lightning, Montano rose and slammed his head and fists into the bars. The woman just barely managed to scoot her bucket away in time to avoid his grip and she wobbled for balance as her heart steadied after skipping such a beat. "LOOK AT ME!" said Montano loudly but calmly.

The woman raised her head from her new position and the nearby rangers looked their direction with hands on their holsters. She met his eyes and Montano felt that vicious spirit yet again, finally understanding that feeling as a renewed fire of unshakably savage loyalty. He slammed his head and fists into the bars two more times and the blood dripped down his forehead as the words, "None of us will ever speak to you, bitch," spewed out of his mouth.

The ranger remained brave in appearance as the prisoner's message solidified itself in her mind. After a long moment, even the other prisoners were silent until the tension eased just enough for the ranger to turn her head. Meeting the eyes of the rangers by the radio, she said to them;

"Stand down, fellas."

Both of the rangers eased off their holsters while one of them shouted, "All good over there, Natalie?"

The ranger called "Natalie" turned back to Montano and replied to her comrades, "Yeah, we're fine. Just having a chat with the quiet one."

Montano continued to stare at her with murder in his eyes and the ranger collected herself further before addressing the prisoner, "None of you will talk, even for a lost war: Gotcha... Not even for these?..."

The woman reached into her leather satchel and pulled out some bottles. Montano too collected himself after mentally ripping her limb from limb nearly two dozen times in the short moments after hearing her words. Before he could figure out whether or not this ranger was Actually offering him a bribe, she said;

"I understand ya'll ain't allowed to get a drink on, but I also understand Caesar forbids you from getting captured and taken alive..." Montano barely even processed the fact that she brought up his captivity. If this conversation with the horrible ranger woman did anything for Montano, it made him forget where he was when there was an enemy in front. Not only this, the words and actions of this woman showed him on the subconscious level that he, even now, still had that spark inside that kept him charging into the lines of guns over the years despite the weight of his failure.

"... and look where that has gotten you and your brothers. Of course, I'm also super accommodating and have non-alcoholic options..." she went on as she pulled out and snapped the cap off a bottle of 200 year old warm soda.

"... I imagine the water we have on hand can be rather stagnant, but what can you do?" she smiled before taking a nice long gulp of the drink.

Montano marveled at the fact this woman legitimately thought she was being of any temptation with her abhorrent smile and awful demeanor. Even going so far as offering him items that would only tempt the most pathetic of men. No. This woman and her band of inexperienced rangers clearly had no idea who their brothers in the Mojave were fighting. Montano's only reply to all these offers and slew of words was, "You think I crave anything 'refreshing' or intoxicating?..."

The girl lowered the bottle slowly and Montano went on, "You all have literally no idea what kind of people you've managed to capture. We don't want comfort, or water, or alcohol, or love, or warmth, or anything you think you can offer... You want me to cooperate?..."

He paused, seeing the look on her face twist into something denoting an accomplishment of sorts. Montano grinned at this, seeing the hopeful astonishment in her eyes that merged with his own hope at her seeming cooperation and potential ability to actually listen.

At last, Montano spoke the only true words he ever said to any of his captors,"... If you want me to cooperate, then you'll assure me that my only reward will be a bullet in my head... That's my demand."

The ranger girl remained silent, seeing the seriousness in Montano's eyes. She reflexively reached for her satchel to see if she had his demand in there, but a brief glance back at Montano's eyes said her hand was in the wrong place. She then met the prisoner's eyes once again and her focus stayed there as her hand hovered to the top of the holster strapped to her leg. Montano's face remained the same in its deadly seriousness and Montano understood that she was the only profligate who actually heard this message he relayed to "Boyd" so many times over the weeks of his previous captivity.

Finally, the silence ended when she asked the prisoner, "... Suppose I could make that promise after getting the go-ahead from the proper channels, but how would I know what you tell me is the truth?"

Montano had heard the question he anticipated, and without any hesitation, he answered, "You wouldn't..."

There it was, he saw the woman just about to speak the inevitable follow-up to that answer, but he cut her off. Montano immediately spoke to the very principles a profligate soldier like her held so dear, "- Whether or not I tell you the truth, the fact remains that you would be doing your duty by taking my life if you actually believe what your profligate army says it stands for..."

Montano could see the woman seriously considering what he was saying, but her face also said that she required more clarity. Montano continued, "... Killing me, or any of us, is not 'cruel' like your foolish leaders believe... Killing me is just about the most 'just' thing you could do if you and your nation believe in that idea at all..."

Again, Montano watched the face of the woman take in his words, but he left it at that for the moment awaiting the next inevitable question from someone who'd actually hear him out. Just as expected, the young ranger woman called Natalie asked, "Well, why should I give you what you want? Tag on your cell says you were just a nameless grunt. How do I know you actually deserve what you want? For all I know, you are just an indoctrinated savage who doesn't know anythi-"

He cut her off right then with the raise of his hand. She stopped and he gestured to the sky, silently telling her to listen. The screaming from the other cells had resumed, the cages to his left and right all getting their structural stability continually tested. Montano and the woman finally locked eyes again and Montano seriously considered disclosing his true name and rank to the ranger if it meant she'd give him what he wanted. It was highly doubtful that Natalie had ever heard of his story, knew what he'd done for the Legion, or if she would believe his identity revelation at all. However, he had completely captured the ranger's attention and he knew she was smarter than she looked. Montano said in a tone of calm seriousness he didn't even think he had;

"... You approached my cell for a reason, girl. You knew that I stand out from the ranks, and you were right to think so-"

"So what's your real name and ran?-" interrupted the ranger, but Montano interrupted her in turn, forgiving her interruption by continuing calmly;

"All I can and all I will tell you is what is true: Make no mistake, I deserve to die. What I have done to the East, for the Bull, is not anything you or your nation can ever forgive. I have murdered, I have raped, I have ordered the butchering of so many men, women, children, and enslaved countless others. I have done things for Lord Caesar that would have had me put to death a hundred times over if I were a citizen of your country, and all of it was without remorse..."

He paused, and the woman took all this in. Hearing his words, she began to understand that Montano was in fact a lot more than a lowly prime like his cell's marker indicated, but this realization went uncelebrated as she continued to meet the eyes of this man. At last, he concluded;

"... Understand that the others here, the ones shouting, even they bear no real distinction from me. The only difference between them and me is that I have been a menace to humanity for a while longer. In the end, the only truth you'll get from us is that we do not deserve any of the mercies or comforts your government insists upon throwing at us. We will not cooperate, and our sparing will only be a burden to you and your nation. What Caesar understands that your nation refuses to is that the useless should be discarded... I've served my use, and now it's time to go."

A long silence ensued as the woman went over everything she'd been told. The seconds went on, the screams hadn't stopped, and the young ranger finally asked the prisoner, "So, you want me to give you the death you want even if you give us intel we can't use?"

"No..." said Montano calmly. "Regardless of what we tell you, the principles of your republic say you have a duty to fulfill, and that duty can only be achieved with our deaths."

Again the two stayed quiet for a long moment. The silence went on and the woman gripped her holster only a little tighter. Montano didn't expect to be killed right then and there, but he saw that his message had been successfully delivered. Suddenly, the silence beneath the incessant shouting was interrupted by the cheer of those male rangers by the radio. The ranger woman turned to the new commotion and one of the rangers shouted toward Natalie;

"Hey Natalie! We got the radio working!"

She gave them a gesture of acknowledgment and turned back to Montano who had not moved. She released her grip on the holster and stood from the bucket as she said to Montano;

"Well, 'Mr. Whoeveryouare' I agree. I don't think y'all deserve to keep breathing either. I'll run your little 'suggestion' up the chain of command, but don't think you won't be getting on that train when it gets here..."

She turned to walk away but Montano remained gripping the bars in his statue-like way. After only a few short steps the ranger stopped, turned back around, and said to Montano, "... But honestly, if what you said is true, perhaps you deserve to be kept alive..."

The temporarily lifted feeling of failure came slowly back down on top of Montano's being. His inner rage instantly spiked only for it's rise to be limited by the pressing of that failure. Montano's brain began to dull yet again, and the fire was inside was almost extinguished back to where it was before the ranger's arrival. Just then, and before the flame of his driving fire was completely gone, the ranger added;

"... Get used to living, you'll be in our hands for a long time... But just know your emperor's still a man, and all that loyalty you have for him will become pointless when he's gone, even if he manages to actually take the Dam. Help us or hinder us, live or die, you failed your lord, so maybe it's time you put your stock in something else and you won't be such a miserable sack of shit during the rest of your long, long life."

At that, the ranger left Montano's presence and Montano remained standing. Deep down, Montano knew that his Emperor was a mortal man, and even though the idea of cooperating with the profligates or abandoning his duty to die never crossed his mind, there was some truth in the ranger's departing words. Montano would continue to live as a captive of the profligates, he did still fail his Emperor, but also, there may be somewhere else Montano could put his "stock." The embers of that driving fire kept the weight of his supreme failure at bay and Montano saw these embers take the shape of Aleron. Aleron still lived, and that meant the Legion would still live on in Montano's mind, but what that looked like was entirely up to his rival. The war in the Mojave was still going on, and even though Montano knew that the Legion was still in a position to snatch victory, he also knew that whatever happened at the end of this war would change so much of the world and perhaps even the Legion. Montano put Aleron up to the task of keeping the Legion on the proper track, perhaps making adjustments when necessary just like the "Ailerons" of a plane, but not knowing what exactly was coming for the Mojave.

Ranger Natalie congregated around the radio with her comrades and one of them turned up the volume just in time for some sort of announcement after the last song;

"A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on..."

A/N: Special thanks to fellow writer on the tab and regular commenter "Xcom_Anders" for the character of Natalie as well as inspiration for the chapter as a whole.