Taken from the RP posts from: .com Come join the fun!
Sejanus paused her stomping, hearing a slow clap coming from behind. She turned to see Aeonar, the slave's bemused lopsided smile doing little for her mood. At least he had her axe under his arm. While he congratulated her on her speech, she couldn't help but grin a little. He knew her well enough, knew how much she loved to put on a show, and though she's never admit it, she did tend to listen to his opinions. She'd been the one to capture him, and she was the one who'd spoken on his behalf to Centurion Agrippa, who in turn brought him to Caesar; she'd seen to it that his mind wasn't wasted on menial tasks, instead being relegated to the engineering and logistics vital to any force like the Legion.
She thought back to their earlier days. surprisingly enough it had been their taste in music that first started them talking; he had caught her whistling Borodin's 'Polovtsian Dances' as she led him and a handful of other captures to camp and joined in. She'd never met anyone else in the wastes who knew the song, and it astounded her. She quickly forgot herself, befriending the slave, talking on everything from music to philosophy to simple survival. It was rare for her to meet her match in old world knowledge, but this ex-vaultdweller was easily her rival, and despite their different roles in Legion life, they fast developed a strong though quiet friendship.
As he explained about her axe needing further repairs, she frowned, She hated seeing her weapon defaced, even temporarily - it was like am extension of herself, another limb. It had seen her days before the Legion, saved her on many occasions and taken more lives than she could keep track of anymore.
It too was a dear friend, and she often found herself tracing the faint carvings she'd etched into it as a tribal, reminiscing on her old life, though never missing it. She had come to the Legion by her own choice, at first simply admiring their cruelty, and perhaps longing for a new tribe to call her own, but over time she grew to admire their virtues, their values. What had begun as a simple fascination had grown to become an all-consuming fanaticism over the years, and hers was a zeal matched by few.
By the time she was wrenched from her thoughts, Aeonar was gone, and the sounds of a struggle made their way from Titus's tent.
"Ah, I'm glad you see my way," he said with malice as her pride crumbled away.
As she gave everything she knew about Golf, he was already planning the infiltration. As he plotted, listening carefully to every detail, he trailed the flat edge of the blade between her legs actually smiling at how her shivers and trembles increased.
Though he would never wish Lanius any harm, and fully believed the beast of a man could not fall to the NCR, Titus still thought of this is a huge step towards rising from his station - strangely due to this profligate.
When she finished, he hesitantly placed his machete on his desk, and let go of her. Seemed it wasn't the kind of fucking she wanted.
Titus was pleased. Not only did he have the information he wanted, and instilled such deep fear in the girl, but now she was beginning to hate herself for essentially aiding the deaths of everyone in Camp Golf. Such emotional torture was more the style of the Frumentarii, of those with more detailed touches like Vulpes', but Titus relished this bonus.
"If you ever think it is wise to defy me again. Take a look at the degenerates on the crosses outside. You'll have it worse than them."
Titus quickly sat down and began to write out his plan, for approval from Caesar or the Legate, and then wrote down his orders for his scouts to get to Golf ahead of the attack. He had no intention of letting the Veteran Rangers there be prepared.
Her old uniform felt like a strait jacket. It had someone else's name upon the stitched tag, "Kennedy" a corporal from Forlorn Hope who had been crucified.
Sejanus stood beside her, the guy scared the shit out of her, he looked a little uncomfortable in the NCR uniform, but considering what Aurora was carrying on her person, He had nothing to worry about, as long as he didn't trigger the detonator for the C4 that had been carefully cut down and strapped to her body.
She moved with the disguised Legionary through the old terminal building.
"Morning!" beamed the Quartermaster.
Aurora smiled thinly.
"Hi, got a req here for a truck, preferably trooper carrier." She said, passing the page to the dispatch. He looked over the forms,
"Forlorn hope, didn't we lose that to those Legion fuckers?" the sergeant muttered.
"Ran out of forms for Golf, so we had to use leftovers from Forlorn that were supposed to be sent before they got taken, poor bastards, didn't know what hit them." She said sadly shaking her head.
"Yeah, well, it's only a matter of time isn't it until they start reaching for Vegas, you guys at Golf be damn careful, if the Legion gets their hands on the pipework there, the Sharecroppers will be totally fucked, then what are we gonna eat, fucking Rocks?" he quipped without humour.
He handed her a set of keys and a pen to sign out the truck.
"Ok, serial number here, and sign there." He took the paper and signed it then stamped it.
"Truck number 20066445, she's a bit of a bitch on the clutch, and steering rig is heavy, but she runs and the fusion cell still got a fair bit of charge in her, watch out for the red bastards, if you do see 'em, just run them down, we need the ammo for Vegas." He grinned.
From beneath his helmet, Aurora noticed Sejanus scowling. She quickly nodded her thanks and grabbed the keys and turned on her heel and marches smartly out of the terminal building.
The two soldiers from different sides moved to the truck and got in. aurora checked over the systems, fuel cell was operating, the start sequence was engaged and the machine roared to life.
Aurora checked the mirrors; the side mirror was cracked but useable. She pushed her foot to the floor upon the clutch and put her into reverse with a heavy grinding of the ancient gears. She nodded to the other soldiers who were working, some waved back at her. She smiled sadly.
Sejanus had said nothing to her; she could feel the contempt flowing from the man as she hauled hard on the wheel just to get the machine to turn.
"Come on you ancient bitch, dispatch wasn't wrong when they said your steering was shit." She muttered to the truck. She drove the massive vehicle down the road until McCarran was out of sight, she pulled up and waited for Titus and his men to appear.
She looked around at the scenery then looked down at her uniform. Who did she know at camp golf? Plenty of people
"Oh Shit!" she said, punching the steering wheel, and getting a look from Sejanus.
"We have to change uniforms, there's people who I know at camp golf who will blow my cover if I'm not wearing my own uniform, and guess whose uniform you just so happen to be wearing." She pointed to the name patch
"PTE A. Cosgrove" stitched in black stitching was emblazoned over Sej's left side at chest height.
The Legionary shook his head, disgusted,
"You want to blow your Centurion's plans go ahead." She looked at the man, he was actually blushing.
"Look, if you've got body issues, fine, I'll turn away so you don't see me and I don't see you change." She said as she began to undress, "Just the jackets should be fine." She said, as she removed the top layer, unfortunately it was the only layer apart from her bra. She turned away and stripped the top and handed it to Sejanus who tossed her own jacket back to her.
She quickly dressed and felt in the left breast pocket, the two pictures that she held most dear were still in there, one of her with her family before she shipped out, and another of her dancing in a Wind Dancer Tribal ceremony celebrating her 16th birthday and acceptance into her father's semi-nomadic tribe as a woman. Sejanus quickly finished dressing and Aurora had done up the last button.
"Right, that's done, now we wait." Aurora muttered, still not happy with the situation, as she still had the explosives strapped to her for her co-operation. There was still no guarantee that she would live through this,
but what the hell, you only live once.
A group of 16 or so shoddily dressed troopers approached the truck, Titus at their head. He looked uncomfortable in the NCR armour, not only because it was NCR, but the chest plate was rather small on a man his size. Titus herded his men into the rear of the transport then walked over to the driver's door.
"I don't know how you people wear this," he muttered. "Another detachment from my centuria is in the hills west of Camp Golf. They'll descend on my signal." With that, he climbed into the rear of the truck and continued briefing his men. This was an ambitious goal, so he had brought only his Prime Legionaries for the infiltration. He didn't want a recruit messing this up and having them all on the wrong end of an Anti-Materiel Rifle.
"Drive on!"