The sky split open and Mars took center stage, bathing the world in his righteous fire, taunting those that would dare challenge his authority with a war cry that sent a chill through the very world itself. Angelita's screams were dwarfed by the sound and for the moment her mind reverted to that of a child. She could see the priestess she had been assigned to, old and gray, teaching her the wonders of Caesar's father. The lessons of ruthlessness stuck with her, it stuck with all of the children. Surrounded by cracked porcelain and the aroma of poor plumbing, she prayed for a quick end. One she was far too afraid to give herself.

She considered the profligate in the main room. Would Mars strike down one who aided a runaway? Then she considered herself. The virtues that had been seared into her brain crumbled so easily under the weight of the world. Honest had been the first pillar to be knocked loose and it was difficult to imagine surviving with it intact. Inexperienced and yet she lied as though she'd been born with the gift. But now, here in the motel room she tried so hard to hate, she could feel the angry god closing in on her. She wished she had not run. Singing, giving birth to children—these were the things her mother had done. Running put her with a man who bore no mark of the legion and yet still barked orders as if he had been with them his whole life; a Centurion in hiding.

For a moment she was sure she had died and for her betrayal she was doomed to spend the rest of eternity in the form of a rotting corpse. It became worse: Adam walked into the bathroom. Her mind trudged into the depths and wondered what he was going to do with her lifeless body. That man, the one she now saw as a Centurion born on the wrong side of the conflict, was back to issuing commands as if they'd come down from the heavens. She hadn't taken her hands off of her ears until Adam grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her out of the bathroom.

The main room held only a fraction of the charm that had attracted her appreciation. The bed was in the right place but many things weren't. The small trinkets that gave the room character were blown in all sorts of directions. The front of the room was an entirely different story. Without having it explained to her, she came to the understanding that no god had come down to punish her. Adam gathered his rucksack and gave her everything she had been carrying when they first walked into town. His rifle, the one he had gotten in Freeside was yanked off of the bed; it was the last thing to be pulled out of the room. With his lead the pair stepped out of the room, through what was left of the door and over what was left of two men. She couldn't discern that they had in fact been men; it took his remarking that the torn and shredded flesh was all that was left of them. However, it turned out to be the wholes—minor from the inside, gaping on the outside, that attracted the runaway's attention the most. "What had done this?" She thought aloud.

Weir cleaned himself up and got out of Freeside. The odds were with him as far as someone actually realizing that the woman was missing, but they were only odds. He was inspecting the roads outside, carefully weighing all of the possibilities given the information that he had collected.

"A Mojave boy," He thought aloud to himself. "He's not gonna head north, he doesn't know that land, at least not as good as his home. No advantage in it. He'll go soul, weighed down by his pretty little girl. Probably won't get far."

He moved south.

Still, the man needed a cover. There was a look that people in the Mojave associated with killers and he had it. He walked and walked until one of the many traveling merchants and accompany mercenaries came across him. There was no need to express interest; the merchant appeared to want to sell much more than he needed to buy. Perhaps the mercenaries weren't paid in full.

"Pretty extensive selection I've got here." All smiles, the merchant motioned Weir over. "Why don't you take a look?

"Anything good?" Weir returned the smile and inspected the merchant's features. Specifically the nose, of course.

To happy at a prospective sale the merchant didn't notice.

"Plenty of chems," The merchant dug through the packs on the brahmin. "New shipment of water, bullets, some new clothes and some armor."

"Could I see the clothes?"

"Sure?"

Most of the clothing was worthless, likely pulled off of a fresh corpse and given a quick back in dirty water and detergent if anything at all. Pre-war outfits had little use outside of a casino, especially for someone that wandered from settlement to settlement.

"Hey." Weir pulled a long white lab coat out of one of the side packs. "How much for this pretty little lady?"

"That's an expensive piece you're looking at." The merchant explained. "Rare thing you can only find way out to the east. Picked it up from a drifter."

Drifter meant corpse.

"How much did he let it go for?" The coat went over Weir's shoulder. The merchant didn't know, but it already belonged to him. "Better yet, how much are you looking to get rid of it for?"

"As I said it's a rare piece, how about five hundred caps?"

"That's a bit high for a lab coat, don't you think?" Weir didn't scoff at the price, but it was clear that the merchant was desperate.

The interest in the coat waned for the moment. His attention was instead handed out to the pair of mercenaries. His original assessment that the merchant was in debt to the mercenaries needed to be adjusted, they didn't appear to cost much. One wasn't even paying attention to the exchange between his boss and the customer whereas the other was pacing around with his finger hooked over his gun's trigger—combined with a fidgety demeanor and the right scare would have had him hopping around on one foot.

"Maybe, but I don't think you'll find another one of this quality."

"Perhaps. Weir shifted his interest to the brahmin this time. "400?"

"400 works."

Weir paid and the deal was complete. He didn't move.

"Uhm… something else you need?" The merchant had finished his caps and realizing that his customer was still standing there.

Weir bided his time and waited for an opening. The two mercenaries gave into their boredom and became even sloppier, wandering away from the immediate vicinity every, even taking their eyes off of his hands. A scalpel, the very same that sliced off the woman's nose in Freeside, was plunged into the merchant's throat. The free hand was stuffed over the merchant's mouth to muffle the gargling that was associated with such a wound. The next step was simply the act.

"Oh god, oh god." Authenticity was key, he truly sounded concerned. "He was showing me some chems and… oh god."

"What? Oh fuck." The first mercenary came rushing back—the one with the sloppy trigger discipline. It was still sloppy. "What happened?"

"God damn it." The second mercenary also returned and tried to find out what was going on. "Move your hand, let me see it."

"Okay." A quick, nervous nod was made to the request and Weir yanked the scalpel out of the dying merchant's neck. The blood that spurted out of the wound told the story. As much information as it gave it was undeniably distracting. Coated in blood, the super-sharp blade was slash deep through the sloppy mercenary's face—cutting from his temple down to his jaw in a diagonal path. The next slash came just as quickly, cutting a wide arc in the other mercenary's neck from ear to ear.

Pity was taken on the disfigured face while he squirmed on the crowd, twitching and screaming at the pain. His gun was on the floor, a simple 9mm pistol, one that Weir picked up and considered part of the deal for the lab coat. He aimed the pistol at mercenary's forehead and squeezed. The other two weren't so lucky. While he rummaged through the brahmin packs a second time, he did it to a soundtrack of squirming and death gurgles.

"I needed to get blood on the coat," Weir turned the brahmin around and began to head south again. "It's more authentic that way."

Meanwhile, much further south, Adam was dragging Angelita along and trying to put as much distance between him and Novac. He had pushed out of town, ignoring every last question Vargas had thrown in his direction, even the warning of hell he'd catch for "destroying Boone's room." The entire time he was considering what the hell had just happened. It couldn't have been more than a minute between him diving through the door and yanking Angelita out. An entire magazine's worth of ammunition had been fired through the anti-materiel rifle and devastated everything in front of him. His ears were still ringing.

"So what do you know about the legion?" Adam felt compelled to ask. Slave or not she had eyes and ears.

Angelita didn't respond. She didn't even look at him.

"You know they want you, right? They'll probably kill me on the spot, but you," He shook his head and glanced back at her. She was staring at the road and following his shadow. "They'll put you back into slavery or worse."

The truth made her cringe. She'd seen how some less worthwhile slaves were handled. She'd seen enough of them made examples of on crosses to last both of them a lifetime. Going back was not an option and still she offered no assistance.

"Fine, don't say anything. But that won't be the end of it, not by a long shot." Adam shook his head and continued to walk. "Once they find out that those two bastards are in pieces they're going to send more. Not any soldier either, they're going to send a group of assassins."

Angelita hugged herself and rubbed her hands along her shoulders. It sent a very real chill down her spine. She'd seen these assassins and how other slaves gave them a wide berth when they moved around an encampment.

"Have you ever seen what a machete does at close range? Forget if they're carrying themic lanc—"

"Okay." She spoke her first honest word since Freeside. She repeated it. "Okay."

"Welcome back to conversation. So what exactly did you do while you were a slave? Sing, yeah, but everyone's heard the stories about how women are treating." Adam wasn't mincing words. "By all accounts you should have had a kid or three by now."

"She," Angelita paused. "My mother; she served the Centurions."

"So your father?"

"Is a Centurion."

"So some field commander had his little girl run out on him." Adam threw his hands up. Why did he ever consider her a good luck charm? "For all we know there could be a group of eighty men barreling down on us."

"No." She shook her head. "They wouldn't do such a thing."

"Believe me; I've seen morons in the legion do some pretty stupid shit."

"And they're all dead now, aren't they?"

She silenced him.

"It will be assassins, as you said."

"So why haven't you been farting out kids like most of the women?"

"I was supposed to be a priestess." She almost sounded proud.

Adam stopped and turned around to face her. "A what?"

"A priestess." She explained. "They take care of the children that are brought into the legion. They shape and mold Caesar's citizens—they make sure everyone adheres to the standards we're all taught as a child."

"Momma bears."

"That's one way of putting it yes."

For the moment Adam stopped asking questions and stared at her. Stress had taken its toll on her far worse than it had on him, then again, the Mojave had brought him as far down as he was willing to go by that point. Angelita on the other hand was fresh out of the protective arms of a society. A hated and feared society, but still protected. The way she spoke of the priestesses it made his mind wander and before long his look was more interrogative than curious.

"Did you want to leave?"

Angelita fixed her mouth to speak but offered no answer. She saw a plume at the top of his head, fanned out horizontally. Pieces of armor from all enemies draped across his body from the hulking super mutants to the arrogant NCR troopers that dotted the Wasteland. It was an odd connection; seeing one who signified the furthest thing from the legion as one of its most respected ranks. The more she considered the question the more it felt as though he had given another command.

"No." She stood with her hands at her side and stared at a long crack in the ground.

"Why did you leave then?"

"Because mother told me we had to go."

Adam narrowed his eyes. "I thought children were raised by priestesses? Your mother was cattle to them, how did she hang on to her child?"

"I don't know? Maybe the centurions enjoyed her?"

"Sounds like bullshit to me."

He might as well have punched her from the way she flinched. They were walking again but she was busy questioning herself. All of the lies she had told, had they changed the way she spoke? Would people always question whether or not she was telling the truth? Setting aside all of the thoughts that were crushing her, why did he want to know any of it. As far as she was concerned they were living on borrowed time. Whether it was tomorrow or next week, they would cease to breathe.

"We're going to Ranger Station Charlie. It's just down the road here."

The northern approach was taken explicitly because of the rocky overlook that gave a decent vantage over the majority of the compound. Adam was no enemy of the NCR but in the same breath he was no friend. So they crept. Almost in a crawl they approached Ranger Station Charlie, Adam in the lead with Angelita trailing him much slower. For once the sight of carnage took him by surprise; the bodies of legionaries were spread out across the station riddled with bullet holes.

"That's interesting." Adam set one of the rifles down in front of him, not bothering to adjust the scope as there was no movement.

Details were revealed as he peered through the scope: the dead legion soldiers weren't as experienced as he had been expecting, they were dead to the last man and it was not the NCR that had done the deed. Nothing he saw pointed towards NCR having their hands in this. The bullet wounds didn't correspond to the caliber of weapon that NCR soldiers or rangers would carry. Given the up close and personal style of combat many legionaries conducted it was unlikely that the children being shipped out west would be able to handle them. Detective mode was shut off as the realization that any semblance of safety the NCR might have afforded them would have to wait. Even further, it was starting to seem likely that NCR outposts weren't safe at all.

"Fuck."

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Adam stood straight up and began to make his way down to the station. "Come on, let's go see if there's anything on the inside to make use of."

Angelita nodded and followed.

To Adam's surprise he didn't need to shield her from the twisted bodies that they needed to pass in order to get inside of the main building. She was becoming used to the sight of blood and missing limbs, even one particularly devastated body only incited a blink from her—though she did wonder what happened to the rest of the head. Was it the spot on the rusted car behind him? Had Adam not tugged on her wrist she likely would have spiraled into morbid curiosity, maybe even touched the rotting flesh.

Inside the station proved to be just as bad if not worse. Every trooper in the station was dead—and stripped clean of their ammunition; something the legion wouldn't have bothered to do in his experience. A scavenger would have had a field day outside as well, rummaging through the other dead, but for the most part everything that was taken belonged to the NCR soldiers. The adjacent room forced him to consider even more scenarios. Two of the bodies no longer had their NCR armor.

"They're all dead—but half of them don't have any clothes on." He aired out his thoughts, a normal method of helping someone track a scene. "Those two assholes in Novac were dressed up like settlers… Which means…"

Angelita waited for him to finish.

"There are two members of the legion walking around in NCR gear. Could be ranger armor, could be trooper armor, no way to tell." Adam pushed pass her and moved into the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet. Empty. He slammed it shut. "Fantastic."

Angelita was still quiet. She was an observant one; she learned to be as a woman in the legion. What she saw was a man that showed little emotion was beginning to crack. He was not used to taking care of anyone but himself, this much she was sure of, though he had done admirably for his part. He had saved her on more than one occasion and had she not been so utterly confused she might have been thankful. As it was, she was presently in the mindset to follow his orders, though there was nothing to say that tomorrow morning she'd to the first authority figure she saw and claimed he was selling her off to slavers.

Hands on his hips Adam sighed and gathered his thoughts. "There's nothing here but dead bodies and deader bodies."

"Where are we going to go?"

Fuck if I know immediately came to mind. "West? Let's go west, there's a town called Primm that's not too far off, maybe we'll get lucky."

"What do you mean lucky?"

"Maybe they aren't all dead."

"But it's getting dark."

And shit comes out in the dark; a lesson that Adam had learned when he was young. It was a lesson that everyone learned when they were young. There were times when such a phrase meant that all of the creepy people and streetwalkers came out, but now it was much more vicious. There were full-blown monsters wandering around now and not being able to see a creature that was designed to kill meant that things weren't going to go well for you.

"We'll sleep here then."

Sleeping in a ranger station with about a dozen corpses was actually a better idea than Adam thought. He reiterated as much to himself over and over again until he believed it was true. There were too many variables to consider. If a member of the legion came back to see what happened to the war party then they were likely screwed. If the NCR came to the station to check in then they were just as screwed. Raiders looking for an easy score screwed them and fiends seeing bodies to scavenge screwed them just as hard. That wasn't even considering the amount of creatures that would smell the meat and come over for a quick snack.

They slept there anyway. Outside. In the hollowed shell of pre-war transportation.

Adam fought off the grogginess as he heard the familiar sound of a brahmin being led across the wasteland. The brahmin was in fact wandering by itself around the front end of the station while a man in a blood-stained lab coat looked over the bodies with a discerning eye. It appeared that he hadn't come across the pair in their sleep and from which body he was currently investigating it seemed that he had just arrived. A hand was tossed over Angelita's mouth and he shook her.

"Stay here," Adam whispered. "Don't make a sound, stay out of sight, okay?"

Angelita nodded.

Adam moved out of the pre-war husk and set his feet down on the ground. His rifles stayed with Angelita, though the pistol was shown prominently on his hip. The more his eyes sat on the man the more he seemed like a doctor. Straus had looked very much the same with blood spotted across her top. The lab coat, the glasses, even the freshly shaved face made him look every bit what people expected a doctor to look like. Then again, he could have been a mad scientist for all he knew.

"Hey!" Adam called out, a hand casting shade of his eyes. "Who are you?"

"NCR doctor!" He responded. "Got a request for some assistance down at this station. You don't look like any trooper I've ever seen."

"That'd be because I'm not one." The sun was working against him. Adam circled until it was at his back.

"Go figure." The doctor didn't respond to his movement. "Where are the boys?"

"Dead."

Adam watched his response carefully and couldn't see anything that'd lead him to believe he was faking. Utterly dejected, he plopped down on the ground and made a further mess of the white coat. Glasses were plucked from his face and held in hand while he looked off into space.

"That's the third station in as many days." He sighed, open mouthed. "They've been reporting skirmishes. Legion keeps poking in and running off before they get their teeth in. I guess they were taking head counts. Seeing if reinforcements came."

"Makes sense." Adam shifted, one hand on his head the other on his hip. "You came all the way out here by yourself?"

"No." He shook his head. "A ranger came with me. Saw that something went down in Novac so I told him I could make the trip here in the morning by myself while he kept an eye out."

"Oh." He didn't volunteer information.

The doctor gathered himself and stood. He was heading for the building.

"They're all dead, doc."

"I understand that. I need to collect their tags."

"They weren't on them."

"You looked?" The doctor stopped and looked at him.

Adam paused. "Yeah."

"That's fairly risky. The room could have been booby trapped." The doctor put his glasses back on. "Were you hurt?"

"No. I wasn't the one who did any of this. Legion was wiped out when I got here."

The doctor was staring now, arms crossed over his chest. He approached and stopped five or six feet in front of Adam. "There's something there on your nose."

"Uh, thanks?" Adam brushed a hand across his nose. He didn't feel anything fall. "You gonna let your brahmin wander out there alone?"

"Hm? Oh. Good call." The doctor turned and left the station's perimeter in order to retrieve the brahmin.

Adam glanced over his shoulder to make sure Angelita hadn't decided to go off of the deep end again. From that position he couldn't quite see her, but he did make out a small portion of his rucksack. The doctor returned with the brahmin and patted a shoulder.

"Carrying all of my medical supplies, need anything before I march back up to Novac?"

"Who turns down free supplies? Any stim?" Adam inched forward. Three feet between the two men.

"Should be. Take a look for yourself. Should be in the right pack."

"Thank you." Adam nodded and moved towards the right side and lifted the flap.

"I'm gonna go check the bodies. They might have left something behind that the ranger will want to see." The doctor disappeared into the building.

The stimpaks that Adam had been promised were not in the right flap. With the doctor out of the equation for the time being he decided on checking the left side. The flap was lifted and the pin on the frag grenade was released.

The doctor was laughing.