She was beginning to question the fates' humour. This girl, this snivelling wretch of a girl kept crossing her path like some damned reminder of what she nearly was. As they approached McCarran she had prattled on with the most pointless small talk, though she'd left off eventually when she realized Sejanus wasn't about to mince words with a slave. She loathed nervous talkers, and the girl's anxiety seemed to make her a god damned orator.

'How? How do I always wind up in exactly the wrong place, at exactly the wrong time, surrounded by exactly the wrong idiots?' she wondered to herself.

The assignment was chafing her pride worse than the ill-fitting uniform she'd been forced to don. She knew the value of guise and stealth, and she knew it was vital to this particular mission, but it made it no less shameful to have to wear... this.

The uniform was ridiculous. Hell, uniform was being generous, implying the rat bastards that ran the NCR had their shit together enough to assign any kind of consistent garb. She longed for her veteran armor, her second skin she knew and loved so well. Looking down at the jacket she wore, she was nastily surprised to recognize it as the one the girl had been wearing only yesterday. Yes, the fates had a cruel sense of humor indeed.

Once they arrived at the motley fort, she pursed her lips waiting for the girl, this 'Aurora' to say her piece. She fully expected her to get them both killed through some incompetence - a fitting end to stupendously miserable day; for a girl named after the dawn, she seemed rather dim.

She was surprised though, pleasantly so. The girl managed to smile her way through the guards' questions, even brushing aside their having the wrong forms on the fly. Though at first finding herself impressed, Sejanus reasoned it was only natural; females have some sick affinity for falsehoods and deception. No sooner had she thought that than the crippling hypocrisy of it hit her right in the gut, making her scowl. She came back from her bitter reverie just in time to hear the guard say something about 'running the red bastards down'.

Aurora seemed to notice her glowering, making an effort to hurry along their little exchange. Finally they got into the truck, Sejanus gingerly sitting in the ancient chair opposite the driver's side. She hated this old war tech, didn't trust it as far as she could throw it.

Hell, she didn't even fancy guns, preferring the reliability and grim satisfaction that came with melee, not to mention she couldn't aim for shit. Silently she gritted her teeth, praying to something - she wasn't even sure what - as the slave started the rumbling vehicle, checking the mirrors and grumbling to it as they backed slowly out of the camp. The ride was miserable, though at least it was quiet. Sejanus noted with no small pleasure the fear the girl seemed to feel towards her.

Finally they arrived at the rendezvous point and stopped. Now all that was left was to wait for Titus and his men. Without warning the girl swore and punched the wheel. Sejanus looked at her disdainfully, raising a single brow inquisitively.

"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," said Aurora, gesturing to the patch on the jacket.

Sejanus shook her head. Unbelievable. This day just kept getting better and better and better. First she's assigned to babysit this bitch, forced to wear the enemy's colours no less. Now this.

She grimaced, sure she knew what was coming. Even as the girl pointed out it would blow their cover, she could feel the blood rising nervously in her cheeks. She'd gone years in the Legion without being discovered, but still every time she had to disrobe she felt the dread of discovery bloom anew, scarlet flushing across her cheeks.

"Look, if you've got body issues, fine," she smirked insolently," I'll turn away so you don't see me and I don't see you change."

She was close to snapping at this point, and began pondering what the ramifications for wringing this impertinent little brat's neck would be. They already had the truck after all, and really how hard could it be to slip by the slack-jawed idiots at Golf? Still, she was the Centurion's property, and Sejanus thought better of it, watching the slight women undress, turning slightly away. Sejanus began struggling her way out of the tight uniform and beginning to pull off her t-shirt.

Her mind raced with excuses for the bindings about her chest lest she turn and see when the girl added, "Just the jackets should be fine."

Exchanging jackets, they quickly dressed. This new one fit just as poorly as the last, though in new and interesting ways. She did her best to will the red out of her scowling face, wondering what other joys the day would throw at her, what other little coincidences and headaches lay in her immediate future. It was going to be a long, arduous wait for Titus. A long wait with this girl she couldn't stand, wearing a uniform that didn't fit, in this truck she didn't trust, in the middle of fuck all no where in the hottest part of the damn day. 'How do I always wind up in the wrong place, at the wrong time?' It was beginning to become her mantra...

-

By the time Titus and his men were near, Sejanus had slumped nearly all the way down her seat, though she snapped to attention the moment she noticed his approach. He had with him what looked like nearly two contubernia, and for a moment she wondered if they truly had enough of a force to take a prize like Golf.

She reasoned they were all seasoned veterans though, knowing the Centurion wouldn't be fool enough to entrust this goal to a handful of raw recruits. She was greatly relieved to hear there were reinforcements gathering as well, and couldn't help but smile grimly as he complained about their dress.

She listened intently to the Centurion's briefing and strategies, gritting her teeth as the wretched vehicle chugged to life once more, rolling out over the harsh terrain of the Mojave. Perhaps today wouldn't be too terrible after all. She was beginning to like this Centurion, against her better judgement.

He was proud, to be sure, but listening to his plans and seeing him fight, she thought it possible he'd earned a little pride. Ambitious he may have been too, but that could be a blessing at times. He was no Agrippa to be sure, but he seemed cunning enough, and cruel to boot. She relished the fear the girl seemed to feel about him, the icy sneer he'd thrown her way before he'd entered the truck. Besides, she reasoned, ambition was what was leading them to take this Golf place barely a day after their previous victory. Any action against the dissolute was right by her books.

She just hoped ambition didn't get them all slaughtered.

'Drive on" Titus had said as he climbed in the back. His voice chilled her to the bone despite the sweat that trickled down her body from the mojave heat.

She started the truck up and engaged the gears. They rattled along deteriorated roads to camp Golf.
She breathed deeply, she was the reason that her people would die, friends and comrades. Rangers and troopers alike. And in the end, she'd had no choice but to sing like a canary to Titus.

He'd still continued his sadistic torture of her by playing the flat of the rusty machete asking her legs. Afterwards she'd sat on the floor beside him, he'd asked her for clarification on a few things that she had said and she'd provided the information to him

Traitor Traitor Traitor.

The word ran through her head.

She drove along the damaged roads to Camp golf. She showed down approaching the gates.

"Hope your boss isn't Trigger happy." She muttered to Sejanus.