Chapter IX:
Mark of the Legion
Gideon
It was starting to become a habit. I woke early, the air still cold to the touch and the light yet to come. I could feel the aches and pains that came with sleeping in the cold, even on a mattress. I shrugged it off, and sat up, avoiding the top bunk. I then heard a familiar buzzing sound next to me, and I switched on the Pip-Boy light.
I smiled at the sight of the familiar floating ball that hovered at the foot of my bed.
"So how'd you sleep, bud?" I asked him. He shrugged, and just continued to float there. I shook it off and began gearing up for the days hike. As I dressed, my eyes constantly darted around the room, row upon row of sleeping soldiers in their bunks.
"So, you ready to go?" I asked the robot, who beeped once and nodded. We then moved out, the barracks still sounded by the snoring of soldiers and caravaners alike. I opened the door and stepped into the bar.
"Welcome to the world of the living, sleepy."
ED-E was the first to react to it. He swiveled around and zoomed over in an aggressive pattern until he was within shoving distance, sounding one shrill beep. Cass wasn't even remotely fazed by this, despite the fact the floating death ball was probably itching to incinerate her. Instead she smiled at him, and even patted his armored hide like a dog.
"A boy and his bot. Wondered where you went to."
ED-E was stunned… well if robots can be stunned. He swiveled his body in mid air 'till he was facing me, and shot me a confused… well, stance. Body language, or whatever else you wanna call it. I smiled slightly.
"Don't worry, buddy. She's not gonna take my head or anything like that."
"Yet, you mean," she laughed. ED-E wasn't amused. He swiveled around again and this time bore right down on her so much that she slunk back in her chair.
"Bot, I'm just kidding."
"Beep-ze-beep-BEEP!"
"ED-E, calm it down. She's gonna be travelling with us."
He swiveled around and blurted out what I swear sounded like wait what!? I simply nodded, and he then performed this dramatic downward spiral almost to the floor like he was going to faint. Cass just simply blurted out she did, ED-E then just zoomed up and stared at her with an expression that could be describe as what the hell are you laughing at? Somehow understanding this just made her laugh some more until she calmed down enough to explain:
"Hahahahhahahehheh… ahem, sorry. I'm laughin' at you, ya disco ball. You've got 'nough drama to put the Tops to shame!"
To say ED-E looked shocked and flabbergasted would be a total and complete understatement. But alas, Cass ended his sudden moment of petrified horror by simply coming over and patting the side and top of the robot again like a dog.
"'fore this is over, I'm gonna teach you a sense of humor."
"Ahem… So when did you wake?" I asked, "It's still fairly early."
"Ah; only a little earlier than you, to tell you the truth." She replied. She then stood from her former position on the chair. I noticed she seemed a lot more sober than she did the previous night, and not showing the obvious signs of a hangover, but I didn't push the issue. I also noticed the Winchester 8500 up-and-over scattergun slug over her shoulder. She also had a Browning High-Power 9mm pistol in a holdout holster on her hip, as well as the knife at her other hip.
"Might as well get a move on." I said, taking the lead as we headed out the door. Oddly, I heard the sound of swishing liquid, and I turned to see Cass opening a flask. She drew a rather annoyed look upon me and sighed.
"Not gonna get drunk on the job. Just a nightcap."
"Well it's not that. Okay maybe a little. You're sober."
"Yeah? Can a girl not be sober?"
"Too sober. The amount you downed should've had your face in a bowl for the day.
"Oh, that," she chuckled, then giving me a sly wink, "It's all in the way in the way you drink yer liquor."
I raised an eyebrow. She just chuckled even more:
"Next time we run into another bar, I'll show you a trick or two with a bottle."
"I'm looking forward to it."
We then entered the gloom of pre dawn, and the sight of base just made me think of a ghost town. Then suddenly I heard a shrill whistle in the morning due. I turned to Cass and she looked as surprised as I did. I heard it again, and this time I spotted its source.
"Oh great, it's Ghost. Wonder what she wants."
"Ghost?"
"Lookout. NCR and their Goddamn nicknames," she scorned while throwing up her hands into the air humorlessly, "like Caesar himself gonna piss himself."
"Wait here." I ordered and made my way to the woman ontop of the barracks. Each of the buildings had a perimeter of sandbags on the edges, with a ramp leading to the bottom floor. I made my way to the top, and I could see why Cass had called her 'Ghost'. She was as pale as chalk, wearing a look more akin to a cattle herder, with the exception of the wide brimmed hat and the black mirrored sunshades. She didn't look the part of a soldier, but then again, she was something else.
My gut told me right off that she was a Ranger, a civilian one at that. One could call Rangers the Bears own Special Forces, but even that was not the right title for them. They were, however, an elite branch of the NCR Military that did all the dangerous and dirty jobs that the regular trooper could not. Yet, even then there was a distinction between them. There were Patrol and Civilian Rangers.
Ghost was a civvie from the look of it. These were Rangers selected from non-military sources, and served more like specially trained lawman than soldiers. Patrols were frontline troops; easily recognizable in their brown Kevlar armor. Yet, if one underestimated even a civvie Ranger, chances were that they would be lying in grave the next day. Now one wanted an audience with me, which could never be good.
"You that Courier who won over Cass?" She asked, taking a seat in foldable chair next to table that had a high power sniper rifle.
"I suppose I am. What do you want, Ranger?" I replied in a no nonsense tone.
"Straight to the point, eh?" She chuckled, sipping a cup of coffee that just seemed to appear out of nowhere, "What I want is to offer you job."
"A job?" I asked. She nodded:
"It's concerning Nipton, go ahead and take a look at it."
That caught my attention. I swung Lowlight over and peered down the scope at the town, which could be seen just over the horizon. It took a second to adjust the scope, but then my stomach twisted when I did. There was billow of black smoke coming from it, the type that only came from fire.
"It's been hit, there's no question about it," she said, her voice now grave like a seer purposing danger in your future, "there's been no traffic in the past day. What I want to know is who did it and if there's anyone left from it."
"Let me guess, you want me to go look?"
"Yep. Just figured sense—"
"Sense I'm going there anyway?" I cut her off, my inquisitive glare boring into just cracked an odd smile and replied:
"Word travels quickly, courier. Now tell me, who do you think raided that town?"
I peered back at the town, rubbing my chin, the thing I do when I'm thinking:
"With the smoke, it could be Powder Gangers. Raids like this, maybe Fiends. But there's the same problem."
"Which is?"
"Both prefer Hit and Run tactics. That means in and out, no real damage to the town itself. But this…" I trailed off, peering out to the burning town, "This almost looks like someone's trying to send a message."
She looked at me, questions written all over her face. She had every reason to. This looked all too familiar, and my mind troubled mind wished it wasn't what I thought it was. It couldn't be them. Not this far out west.
"What's the pay?" I finally asked. She laughed:
"The pay? The pay is the goddamn thanks of the whole Republic!"
"Ha! Well, thanks doesn't put food on the table."
"Yeah, well it does wonders for morale. 150 caps now, the rest when you get back." She replied, reaching into a drawer in the table and pulling out a bag and chucked it over to me.
"Smart." I complimented. I then turned and headed down the ramp.
"Mind yourself on the plank going down and don't get yourself killed…"
It wasn't until we were two miles out when Cass asked the obvious. Her tone made it obvious that she already had an idea what was going to happen. I just simply nodded. As we walked on, I simply stared at the fast approaching town, the billows of smoke continuing to burn. Either there was still a lot of fuel, or someone was feeding the fire. The better part of me hoped for the former.
"So where you from?" She asked at my back, which caught me off guard.
"Excuse me?"
"Breaking up the monotony of silence that's been building up. So, where you from?"
"Montana. But that was a long time ago. You?"
She shifted her bag and trotted over to march next to me, ED-E still taking up rearguard. She took her time but eventually she answered:
"California. Place where all drunk beats come from."
"Can't argue with that."
She smiled slyly, and I braced myself for the inevitable punch to the arm, but it never came. She just shook her head and laughed:
"Sometimes I can't figure you out."
"Oh really?"
"It's obvious you don't like the Republic and yet here you are; doing a job for them."
"Eh. Pay's good, and I'm going there anyway."
She cocked her head at me and gave me the I've heard that a thousand times look. I just sighed:
"Look, I don't hate the Republic. I know there are some good folks in it—"
"But you don't like them dabbling in your own backyard?" She interrupted, understanding. That's surprising.
"Something like that." I replied, choosing my next words with care, "Then again, I don't much like people who find it disagreeable to leave folks be. What about you? You don't seem much like some flag waiving tomgirl yourself."
"They're family," she said slowly, her eyes pointing down towards the broken road we were walking on, "But let me tell you what that means. You ever have a younger brother?"
"No, a sister," I said slowly, my mind searching for some unforeseen clue that my fractured brain may have held, "But I think I get your meaning."
"Well, let's just say if you did, a dumbass younger brother, say who knocked up the pastor's daughter, can't hold a job, and who's home away is a jail cell." She finished with a sense of passion which was more often than naught, rare to see.
"That's NCR?" I asked, suppressing a laugh at the analogy. She nodded, angrily.
"Yeah. There compass is always spinnin', and they try ta put a stake into everything they see. Nobodies dick is that long, not even Long Dick Johnson and he had fuckin' long dick. Thus the name."
I raised an eyebrow at her, slightly surprised at what had just come out of her mouth. That didn't stop me from laughing:
"Heh, well that's good to know."
"Well, you asked." She replied matter-of-fact like, grinning smugly. I did the only thing one could; I just shook my head and smiled back. Funny enough out of the corner of my eye; I could see ED-E just floating along behind us and he started shaking his head. I turned my gaze back to this openly vulgar, yet funny gal and found my eyes drifting right back to that pendent she wore around her neck.
"I need to ask, that pendant."
"What, this?" She asked, pointing to it. I nodded.
"It's a little rose, actually thought it was one of Mom's old tribal necklaces. But no, it came from Dad."
"Your Mom was a tribal?"
"Yeah, she was from east of the Colorado, not sure from what tribe; was 'fore Caesars time, though. She walked a hellovaways 'fore she crossed paths with dad, and eventually got him to stop walking." She then paused, "And that's how I came to be."
"What was he like?"
'Can't tell you really: just ended up walking East one day and never came back," She paused again, and I knew I had stirred a very painful memory, "Mom died waiting for him. She held off dyin' till I was old enough to be getting' in trouble with the boys. As for Dad… I just figured he got himself killed out there."
"Sorry, it happens." I said with a genuine sympathy. She shook it off:
"Look, I'm not all boo-hoo about it, so save your glass for someone who's actually crying."
"Well… Do you know why he went west?"
"Not a clue. When he left, I was in my crib, and when my Mom passed, I was too into my teens to listen. Got his name, got this pendant, and that's about it. What about you? You got any family?"
"I… don't know. I guess that's just something I'm hoping I'll find that out somewhere down the line."
She nodded silently, and that same silence crept on for a few minutes. Then she spoke again:
"The man who yer hunting…"
"What about him?"
"Who is he?"
I sighed, and began to think. The truth was; I didn't even know the man's name. All I had to go on was a face, a suit and a chip. Damn. That's just embarrassing:
"Didn't catch his name," I said truthfully, "truth is, all I've got to go on is a face and a suit."
"A suit?" She asked, perplexed.
"Yeah. A pretty odd suit, too: checkered black and white."
"That's just tacky as hell. But that mean's money, and money means—"
"Vegas." I interrupted, what she was saying. She nodded and continued:
"Well, we know where he's goin'."
"We?" I asked, stopping and turning to face her. All sense of any traceable humor was gone from her lightened face, her eyes, though shadowed by her hat, was completely serious.
"You heard me right: we." She began, a stern passion in her voice, "You got me outta that damn Brahmin pit, gave me back a purpose. So the way I see things: I owe you, and I feel helpin' you catch this prick will help me chip away at that favor. And 'sides—"
She stopped turned her eyes towards mine and smiled:
"I don't like soft men or soft living, both accounts of me being with you. So don't worry, we'll rattle his cage a little, and set his world on fire."
I smiled and chuckled a little, replying only with a 'thanks', to which she just smiled some more, and took point.
"Soft men or soft living…" I mused, smiling a little. I had understood her meaning. However, before I could digress further, I smelt it.
"You smell something?" I asked, touching Cass on the arm to get her attention. She took a good whiff of the air, and she came back holding her fingers to her nose.
"Smoke!" She gasped, pulling up her Winchester in both hands. As I pulled out Lowlight, I could hear beeping and whirling.
"What is it, buddy? What do you see?"
I then turned and saw, a billowing cloud of smoke coming from over a ridge. I held my fist in the air, and then pointed to the ridge. Both woman and robot nodded and followed my lead and I began ninja creeping up the hill, Lowlight pointed up towards the crest. As I advanced, the smoke started to get denser and closer, forcing me bring my shemagh scarf over my mouth and nose. I looked over my shoulder, seeing Cass doing the same with a bandana.
It seemed an eternity before we got over the crest, when we did ahead looked like Hell had touched down. The homestead was a series of adobe buildings halfway buried into the ground. Now there was only rubble, the air chocked with a thick, oily black smoke that tore and clogged at my scarf. Quickly, I took out my Vault 13 canteen and drenched the front of my scarf to help filter the toxic air. I tossed the canteen over to Cass and she did the same.
We edged our way around the compound. Then we found them. Two black, charred bodies laid at the footsteps of their home. There were more inside. They had been blasted apart; their bones become akin to the burnt rubble.
The poor bastards never stood a chance.
"Whoever did this is going to pay."
Cass wasn't paying attention though. Or at least it didn't seem like it. She was on her knees, her eyes glued to the compound. But when I came over to her; I realized her eyes were observing the shifts of black sand flowing through her hands. Then her gray eyes returned to the compound.
"Cass? What are—"
"Powder Gangers, Gideon. They're the fuckers that did this."
I knelt next to her:
"How do you know?"
"The powder," then she pointed at the ruins, "and the debris."
"What do you mean?"
"Ain't TNT, Gid. Not even Frags.
"Then what?"
"Powder Bombs."
"Explain."
"See all the powder around?"
I did. There wasn't much, but I could see the black grains hither and nether around.
"TNT only works when secured and pressurized. And it and Frags wouldn't've have made such a small explosion area. Dumbasses are lucky the bombs didn't go off in their hands. They probably used tin cans as the delivery device. C'mon, there's more."
She took point, and headed closer to the ruins. Right off I could see what see wanted to show me.
"There's no fragmentation. And the walls are coated with soot?"
"Aw very good, young Master Hawkins," she replied with another, out worldly voice that I could sum up in the title schoolmaster, "You may very well be one with the ship."
"And where the hell is that from, Professor Cassidy?" I asked with a laugh.
"Ah, some old book mom liked. 'bout old raiders at sea tryin' ta find some hidden treasure."
"Ah, same author as the Musketeers."
"Eh?"
"Never mind. So, you some kind of secretive pyromaniac?"
"Well, when shitheads like these block your path with bombs, you tend ta wanna how and what they use to do it. And how to retaliate in kind."
"Beep-di-beep-BEEP!"
We both turned to ED-E, who was hovering over something in the sand. We ran over, and I nearly stopped cold:
"Tire tracks?" Cass exclaimed, "Nobody, and I mean nobody, has anything that drives in this place."
"Outside of New Reno and northern California, no. But…"
Slowly, we followed the tracks.
"Well I'll be goddamned."
Cass
"Any chance you could fix this thing?"
"Maybe."
"Ya know I was kiddin', right?"
"I'm not."
"Wait, you're tellin' me you can fix this thing?"
"Like I said, maybe."
We were standing in a fuckin' garage. I kid you fuckin' not, a garage. Tools and hydraulics, winchers and generators dotted either side of the room on shelves and worktables. But above it all was this ol' rusty green Land Rover with a tarp cover fer roof, guessin' a'63 model remake, mebbe. I had seen plenty up north at Vault City years ago when I had tried my hand at auto racing.
It hadn't exactly worked out all that well. But it'd been a good year and a good skill ta know.
"Let's lower it."
The Rover was winched high above us by chains that looked they hadn't been moved fer fuckin' ages. So we slowly lowered it to ground, the weight of the damnable thing straining the chains. They groaned so damn madly I got the feelin' I was 'bout ta get pancaked! But it didn't, and I didn't end up on the floor, so guess that's a bonus.
"Let's see what's in here."
Then Gideon popped the top and poked his head in ta see what's what. I popped mine, wantin' ta see what this supposed genius had in mind. The engine was a jumble of cabals, batteries and patch work all over a long rusty frame. This thing was old. It was more patchwork and handjobbed than a goddamned frontier gaudy house.
But then again, I knew next to nothin' 'bout engines.
"I think this could work," Gideon commented, interrupting my inner stewin'. I shot 'em a glance.
"Yer serious?"
"Mmm hmm. It's not much to look at, but I think I can finish what they started."
"What needs to be done?"
"Well, most cars ran on fission generators."
"Yeah?"
"So it looks the guy went around that by installing these fission batteries instead. Granted you would need a lot of them, and would need a couple sensor modules, plus a few odds and ends."
"And a starter right? Something to trigger the generators inta workin'?"
"Something like that. Mmm, I'd need an independent energy source to kickstart this baby."
Then that's when somethin' caught my eye. I looked over and there sittin' on the shelf was a couple of yellow colored cylinders. I had seen those before.
"Bingo."
"Sorry?"
I reached over and grabbed 'em. When I did, I noticed a little symbol on the top. It was an R+ in a circle. Microfussion Breeders. To the best of my knowledge, which ain't great, they were self contained batteries that could regenerate lost energy. Damn, now I sound like some fuckin' Brotherhood Scribe. When Gideon saw 'em in my hand; his single eye practically glowed.
"That'll work. Hey ED-E mind giving me a hand with this?"
Gideon
"C'mon baby, start."
Then as I turned the key and pressed the gas to the floor for the fifth time; she roared to life. I turned to Cass who was hanging on the shotgun side door. She had the look of true and unexposed joy.
"Mister Maddox, I think I'm in love with you."
"Oh really?" I asked with a sly grin. She shook her head once, her smile spreading even further.
"No. Just yer magic fingers."
"That just sounds wrong."
As she passed the door, she replied:
"Meant ta be. But you catch my meaning?"
"Mmm hmm."
I then stepped out of the Rover, grabbed my bag and tossed it in the back seat. Then I grabbed Lowlight and placed that between the stick and the seat. Well enough and close enough. Then as Cass was stuff her gear next to mine; I realized something. I look at the speedometer, noting its speed at 60mph. I then looked at ED-E:
"Can you match that speed?"
He stared at the speedometer and then seemed shrug in midair. Then his internal speakers activated:
" Oh no no and no! Always going… so very faster than I can a'manage! "
"He could just hang in the back seat!" Cass called from the other side of the room. I nodded and opened the door. He zoomed right on in and practically made himself at home; snuggling himself into the seat. I took one last look at the room, and then climbed in.
"Ya ready to rock?"
"Oh… yeah."
I then shifted the stick and hit the clutch and gas all in one very smooth motion. The Land Rover pounced through and rode over the hill for a good six feet before hitting the sand.
"Wahoo!" I roared in time with Cass's yahoo! as the Rover blasted through the loose sand like a mad dog chasing its tail. What made it even more enjoyable was the loud cry from ED-E in the back that echoed from my unleashed techno-obsessed joy let run wild. Finally I hit the brake with slowed ease and brought us to a halt that blew up one massive sandstorm.
"Phew! That was fun!" Cass chuckled as she blew sand from her rattan hat. I tightened my grip on the wheel, my eyes set against the rising backdrop of noon. All the memories of my hands held tight and taught against the wheel, the growl of engines and the roar of wheels set against the tarmac. Then came the rest: the black image set to an endless background of the night, only burning away to roaring flame of orange and red that seemed to devour everything in that still image. Worse were the endless screams crying out my name; only to punctuate by the crack of gunfire and sickening report of them ending their lives.
They blotted out everything. Like an endless tidal wave; they drowned out my reality. My entire body shook like it had an onrush of electricity flowing through me; my organs like they were being gripped by a vise. My lungs clamped shut. I tried to scream but I couldn't.
Then I woke to Cass slapping my face:
"Hey wake up! Wake up goddamnit! Gideon fer fuck' sake-!"
Before she could slap me again; I caught her hand in mid strike. I stared up at her, for a time not understanding why. I felt totally numb. I couldn't feel Cass moving me. I only knew because I could see her doing it.
"Are you alright?"
Her voice felt miles away. My entire world sounded like a giant echo chamber, my body feeling like I was lying on a bed of needles. For entire minutes; I felt as though I couldn't speak. Instead I focused my mind upon clearing the screaming and the fire away from its dark corners. I could feel the heat, the memory still lurking in the cobblestones of broken dreams.
Finally, when my mind was at peace; I took the effort to stand. My legs felt wobbly and I needed both Cass and ED-E to get me back on my feet. They then shifted me onto the driver's seat where I could take a second to get my bearings…
Cass
I stared at 'em for a long while, waitin' fer Gideon ta break outta his trance. He was pale, his breathin' labored and rough. He looked like he was in shock. I had seen enough soldiers after Hoover ta know the look. Something 'bout driving that Rover probably triggered something or other in his mind.
I'm no shrink, but I know what a bad trip down memory lane can do to a person.
"Cass?"
"Hey jerkface. You okay?"
"Better… drippy sipper."
"Ha ha ha, very funny one eye. But seriously…"
"But seriously I'm okay."
"You didn't look like it. What happened? You run afoul a bad memory?"
"I think so," he replied, closin' his one eye as though he focused on what he saw, "I just felt… hot. Like I was burning and I heard screaming."
"Screamin'?"
"Yeah. They were in pain. They kept calling my name, and I felt… trapped. Like I want to help but I couldn't. It overwhelmed me."
"Well as yer prescribed doctor in law and all that mighty fine shit; I recommend lotsa whiskey and pills!"
"I'm being serious, Cass."
"And so am I," I replied in my all the concern I could give 'em, holding him by his shoulder, "look we can wait here if ya want. Let you catch your strength…"
"No," he interrupted, his eye taking on a sort of ferocity I'd only seen in men wantin' ta kill, "I have to keep going. Don't worry about me, I'll get over it."
Gideon
I knew Cass meant well, but I couldn't wait. I knew that Nipton was just a scant ten miles down the road. With the rover we could make that in less than half an hour. For all we knew we'd catch them just as we hit the town. But I knew we weren't going anywhere without first checking the Rover.
The first sign of luck was the fact that the wheel axels and underbed of the truck wasn't rusted. If it were; then we'd be in some trouble. In addition to that; there were dozens of replacement parts scattered throughout the garage, and a large array of prewar rubber tires. Whoever had built this place had probably raided some off the beaten path autoshop or somekind of warehouse.
All of it looked… new. Well, new as it could be. The Rover itself was relatively big inside. Beside the passenger seats, as well as the driver and shotgun, it also three more seats in the back built into an L shape. That remaining slot of to the side looked like it was meant for a spare tire.
The back hatch also had a tire spindle attached to it. Effectively speaking we could take two. More than anything else the tires were the one thing that had to be protected more than anything else. So we loaded up the two, plus an arrangement of tools and motor oil which we stored in a cabinet under the back seat. With that, we slung our bags in the back and climbed in.
The screech of rubber on tarmac was a sound I thought I would never hear again.
Cass
"So I gotta ask. How the hell do ya know so much about cars? Hell even how to drive them?"
"My uncle Max, back in Montana," Gideon shouted over ta me, roaring over the sound of the wind, "used to run an old garage out of town. Used to sneak out at night to go see him, and he taught me everything I need to know about how to manage the stick."
I gave him a funny look.
"Why at night?"
"My pa. He and Max never saw eye to eye, and it only got worse when my mom died. Used to call him Mad."
That was when the bot in the back beeped out somethin'. I don't know what but it seemed ta bring a smile to Gideon's lips.
"Yes ED-E. That kind of Max."
"Do ya know what he's sayin'?"
"No, well sort of. I mainly go off of the way his beeps and cherpins sound like. Meh. For all I know he's saying 'Hey man, I'm a giant disco ball who needs to be pitched!'"
And with that he busted from the back seat, soundin' like some shrill old hag shriekin' her damn guts out as he tried ta bulldoze him! I held my hand out and blocked the floatin' ball in a maneuver I'd seen in a reel 'bout three angry plumbers. I smiled at the ball as he tried to push past my hand, and laughed at him:
"He was just foolin', ya big giant tin ball."
He stopped and starred at me. Then, as if the thing had a fuckin' body it shrugged and then echoed music:
" Oh, oh. Do you really think me so? Am I just a thing… to kick aside? "
"What, no! That's not what I said!"
"Hey, don't do this while I'm driving. Oh boy."
Then Gideon hit the brakes.
"What is it—oh, that."
Though the desert was flat, only the Black Mountains ta the left, the town of Nipton practically snuck the fuck up on us. It looked like some damn Cazador going straight fer yer guts 'round lowtime, sun makin' him look like one mean-as-hell shadow. I reached my hand down to the scattergun 'tween the seats, and yanked it free. I then opened the feeder tubes. I nodded at the sight of the two twenty gauge shells, an' closed it tight.
That black, oily smoke was still there. Hell, it seemed ta be growin'! Like if someone was sill fuelin' the fires fer whatever reason. As I stared: I could feel a fear growin' down in my guts like a bad case of tequila worms. It gnawed at my insides, but I ignored it.
I peered at Gideon, the magnificent smartass who had violently swept me off my drunken feet. A part of me seemed ta grow in some kinda weird anticipation of him; the other was that damnable sense of guilt that was playin' over and over in my head. Guilt over knowing what was coming, because of me. People who stuck around with me just got the shit end of things. I had met many of 'em over the years, some of 'em nice, most of 'em dicks, but he seemed ta be neither… or both.
Either way, I feared what would happen to him, especially around me. Everyone I knew that was ever close to me dies. Mom, my friends back in Redding, my caravan: Jim Marro, Clarence Mare, Klar Goff, Mark Toms and… Johnny. Johnny Navarro: that charming, dark and heavy drinking point man. We never did anything about it all, but he… I just wish…
Ah fuck it all! I reached into my jacket and pulled out the flask, takin a good ol' swig. There's no fuckin; point of going back now, back to my old pains and failures. They're dead, all of them. All bunch of ghosts now.
I can't bring 'em back, any of them, so why the fuck am I carin' about what happened to 'em all!? Why the fuck should I!? I caught myself on that last verse, it was like the other side of me, the one who knows what is right, was talkin' back to the little girl, that scared little girl in me. I should care. They were my friends, my family.
I didn't lose 'em, not any of them, not even Mom. Something took them, tore them from me. Now I've got to do the decent thing, the Christian thing as Mom would say, and put 'em ta rest. None of 'em, not one, walked out on me, even when they had every right to. So it was my turn to honor them; honor their memory.
Perhaps all those reason is what made me look at Gideon, the man who cheated death. Looking at him made me think of Mom, somethin' she said to me years ago. There are three people in this world, she'd said. There were the simple folk, the ones who only wanted to live yet lived in the shadow of fear. Then you have yer shitheads, the fuckin' bogeymen of the world who embraced that fear.
Then you have the third kind. They're the ones who do not fear, do not shake. Who gladly stand their mighty fine ground with smile on their faces. They are the sheepdogs of the world. And they're the ones you send to kill the fucking bogeyman.
Everything 'bout Gideon, from his build to the way he sat, the way his eye watched the horizon and then back to the present, even to the way he held the steering wheel, reflected what he was. He was a warrior: that gutsy-as-hell sheepdog in the world of wolves. Then another word came to me from an ancient story about some oriental swordsmen, a Ronin. An aimless killer that only needed a task ta put him back on that road.
As I looked further, I could see the hairs on the back of his neck stand; sweat pourin' down all 'bout him. His face held no emotion, no fear… I knew he was doing it for me. Yet, my gut told me that somehow, someway, he knew what were walking into. He then turned his gaze ta me, and I knew he knew that I'd been watching him. Through the glasses, I knew he was staring me straight in the eyes, and then he smiled.
I would never forget that smile, as my thoughts wandering to the town ahead…
Gideon
I parked the Rover behind a dune about a quarter of a mile outside of town. I drew Lowlight and started walking:
"We'll go in on foot from here on out. Now I have no idea what we're going to expect, but either way, be on your toes. Don't be afraid to fight, but don't be trigger happy either. Remember, there may be townsfolk in there, so if worst comes to worst, check your fire. However, nobody shoot unless I give the word, clear?"
Cass nodded and readied her shotgun. ED-E beeped once and the audible sound of his laser cannon coming online sounded in the late afternoon air. I took point and quickly we made our way forward. The town of Nipton laid ahead of us, the unmistakable stench of burning rubber, wood and—
"Oh God, that smell," Cass gasped at the atrocious aroma, "is that—"
"Flesh." I answered. That final clue made my stomach twist as though it had been stabbed by a hot-bedded knife. I tightened the grip on my rifle, and pressed on forward. Nipton was a strategic trading town and easily defendable. A high barricade of about twelve feet made up of wrecked cars, trailers and generally anything that could come to hand surrounded the town; which was also built with its back to a high stone hill.
As we approached, I noticed only one road leading into the town, which brought up the question: if this place was attacked, then why the hell were there no traces of a struggle, blood, scorch marks or even bullet holes? Instead of the obvious signs, all we got was the rising plume of black smoke. Plus the unnerving silence. Not even the crickets were chirping. That was then quickly broken a second later.
Out of the shadow of the town came running a man wearing no shirt and no pants, only his skivvies; of which I did not want to remark the condition of. I raised my rifle on man, my iron sights trained on his forehead. He kept on running, waving his arms and yelling like a maniac:
"Yeeaaaah! Who won the lottery? I did! Smell that air, man! Couldn't ya just drink it like booze!?"
My eye went to Cass, who seemed as confused as I was. I then heard ED-E beeped a question, which was more than likely permission to engage. I kept my aim on the blathering idiot.
"What happened here?" I growled, my finger never straying far from the trigger. The man just started shaking his head, swinging around a pair of glasses that were crack and one of the temples was completely broken off, causing it to just hang from only one ear.
"What happened, man?" The loon of the goons practically screamed, "What happen is I won the fucking lottery man! The one lottery that counts! Oh God just smell that air!"
Like that, he took off running, waving his arms around like some fool on a jolt rush. Cass just shook her head and sighed; ED-E seemed to sulk and beeped disappointedly. I just threw that particular episode out of my mind and pressed on forward; my rifle held at 45. I could feel the fear rising in my own body, and I could somehow sense it off Cass and oddly enough ED-E. We then closed in on the main entrance of the town; the gate swung wide and opened, allowing us to cross the threshold into…
The valley of the shadow of death. In our view was a horrible scene. My breath was held tight in my lungs, Cass gasped in fear, and ED-E seemed to scream at its sight. There were rows of them: rows and rows of burning piles of tires. Upon each one, were corpses, burning corpses, at the head of this was a long pole to which the badly burned remains of a grinning, mad skeleton hanged from, the fires burning higher and higher into the plume of the smoke.
Nothing could be said, or should have been said in that moment. That silence was like a lead weight set upon ones chest: weighing him down as he was dropped into darkness; the shadows feeding off of his fear. I chose to break this silence:
"We've…" my voice breaking at the note, but I continued, "we gotta keep moving."
I tightened the grip on my rifle and pressed forward, my eye straining from side to side, trying to see the unforeseen threat that lurked in the shadows of a dead town. The Sensorium wasn't beeping, which in a way confirmed the limits of its range. We entered the hub of the town; with many homes and business buildings to either side of us. Quickly, we hugged the wall of the trading post and advanced down the road. Every instinct in me told me to turn around, take my companions and get the hell out of dodge, but I shrugged it off.
What I saw next, made me wish I had paid heed to its advice.
"Oh God," Cass gasped and started to ventilate from the sight down the main street. As we walked down the streets, the horror of what we were seeing came one by one like some prewar house of horror. First were the decapitated heads, all of all ages and sexes, all mounted on spikes for all to see. Then came the true terror, the true message of things.
"Crucifixes…" I breathed. On either side of the road were indeed wooden mockeries built like a T, not as sign of faith, but for an evil punishment. Men, woman and children, all ages, were mounted onto the crucifixes with railroad spikes through each hand. They had been left there for a long time, left to bleed in agony and then to bake in the sun. The smell was terrible. Cass was the first to lose it:
"Who the-!? I mean who would… Just why!?" She practically screamed. I grabbed her by the arm, and started moving back the way we came, my eye still locked on the mounted corpses, my body feeling like it had been dipped into ice:
"I know who did this. We need to get out of here now—"
"I don't think so."
All three of us froze: the voice of icy silk-like malice just seemed to come out of nowhere and just as well seemed to cut through the air like a hot knife to butter. Although our backs were turned, my mind seemed to picture what was behind me, and that made my blood run cold. Man, woman and robot then turned; our weapons raised on the man who had spoke. The fear that had seemed to want to swallow me up like some evil Manta Shark seemed to wither and die: replaced by only hate. A pure, fire raging hate.
"He's…He's…" Cass stuttered the beginning of the obvious question, but the fear made it difficult to find the words to finish it.
"Legion." I growled, and the man, the monster, grinned with an unnerving smile as he and a half dozen men seemed to appear from thin air like ghosts. He approached, flanked on either side by men of similar uniforms: red uniforms under mismatched leather armor with ornate metal plates sewed into them, although a few wore evidence of ancient Kevlar armor. They all wore Black masks with the officers wearing red helmets with streaks of red horse hair that streaked up and behind them; all finished by long leather brown skirts and black combat boots. The man in the center however wore a wolf's head onto of his own, its eyes, though dulled by death; burned as bright as rubies.
His hand rested on an ornate blade, the hilt seemed to be made of some sort of Ivory, as a long red cloak flowed about on his back. He then waggled a finger at me as he advanced; seamlessly fearless of the fact I had a sniper rifle pointed at his head. Then he spoke again; his voice cold, refined, alien:
I wouldn't do that if I were you."
As though to punctuate his words, a clatter of a dozen more men, all wielding Winchester Repeater rifles, machetes and under-over shotguns seemed to pop out of the shadows like some banshees of dying man's last night. Despite this, I signaled Cass to go to my left, ED-E to my right as I moved to the middle of the street with our guns pointed at the men fast approaching. I then snarled a command at Wolf's head:
"That's close enough."
He stopped, not ten feet from me, and smiled again:
"Brave of you, most would have been cowed by the very sight of my presence."
"Well I'm not most men." I shot back, subduing my anger for a diplomat's calmness. He just continued to smile at me, his green eyes seemed to try and pierce my psyche with their gaze, shining like the glint of a hungry fox:
"No you are not, one-eye. Don't worry; I'm not going to have you lashed to these crosses, with the rest of these degenerates. In fact it is a blessing is that you happened by."
"And what 'blessing' is that?" Cass asked, matching my own tone, although I could see past this vale and see the fear in her eyes, yet she remained stoic.
"The blessing, rufo sunt, is I want you see the fate of Nipton. Memorize every detail of the horrors that we've inflicted upon this den of debased corruption, and then to spread the tale to every town, every profligate trooper. To tell them of the good works of Caesar's Legion."
That did it.
"Good work? GOOD WORK!?" I snarled, taking the few steps towards the man till we were in punching distance, "You call this good work!? You murdered innocent woman and children! You nailed them to crucifixes! You threw them into fires to burn! And you call this good work!?"
It was then he unleashed an evil, debased cackle that rocked the air like a hurricane. He then stared right back at me; his wicked coolness set against my own burning wrath. He spoke again, a sneer set upon his face:
"You think that these were innocent? Cowardly is more likely. Though the people of this town easily outnumbered us, they did nothing to stop the coming penance of their moral dissolution. This was a town of whores that served all comers; powder gangers, profligate troops, even men of the mark such as me."
As he spoke my mind wondered to his right arm at the mention of the word 'mark'. At base of the elbow, on the underside of his arm was a singed red mark. It was of a bull; the horns looped to form a circle. At the snout were the letters S, P, Q and R. This was the mark of the Legion. He continued:
"For pittance, the town's mayor agreed to lead the people he had sheltered into a trap. Only when the trap was sprung did they realize that they were caught in it as well. We captured them all, herded them like cattle lead to the slaughter. Then I told them, to even the smallest infant, that they were to suffer for their crimes, and then I announced the lottery."
My mind flashed back to the loon on the outskirts of town, announcing that he had won the lottery.
"Each clutched their ticket, hoping it would set him free. Each did nothing, even as 'loved ones' were dragged off to be made an example of. They stood and watched as would we butchered, burned and crucified their fellows. Each stood dumb and idle as we set the mayor himself to burn with the fire under his feet."
The grinning skeleton hanging at the foot of the burning tires:
"Each among them hoped that they're turn would not come. Each did nothing."
With that he smiled, a smile of not only ego, but of satisfaction. I felt a burning wrath. And in the back of mind, a voice told me that I could not, that I would not let them get away with this. Not a fucking chance.
"Who are you?"
"Since you asked, I am Vulpes Inculta of the Frumentarii, we who strike at the Legion's enemies from the shadows." He replied, the smirk replaced by a smile of self-reorganization, "The one who teaches the harshest lessons."
"Harshest lessons? You have nothing to teach. Especially… not… me."
"If you feel so strongly about it, then retaliate, stranger."
"Okay then."
The Colt cleared leather. Before he could move, or even breathe: I fired directly into his chest.
Cass
Time had slowed down for me, 'nough to turn my head into time ta see Wolf's Head fall. Not so for Gideon: with one fluid motion, he started capping the Legionaries like a goddamn executioner! As the first hit the ground, unloading both barrels inta the closest fuckin' Crimson and blew apart his chest. Didn't have time ta reload so I went fer my Browning. Yet as I drew, probably the fastest in my life, the Crimson bastards were faster, raising their Winchester Repeaters like a firing squad: our firing squad.
Gideon roared like a dragon. He raised the Ruger and ripped in ta the Crimsons. I followed suit when somethin' load andbright flew past my head. Then one of the crimsons got fuckin' consumed in that bright light 'fore crumbling to ash! I shivered fer a moment 'froe I got the senses knocked back in me and I kept shootin'.
We must've dropped at least half of 'em when they did one goddamn thing ya never expect anybody ta actually do when the lead starts getting traded: they took cover. When ya been fightin' two-bit dumbass Raiders as long as I have, who come hollerin' and screaming at you like jolt up Brahmin to a slaughterhouse: it surprises you when the folks tryna kill you start playing smart! The 'bot gave chase and they then started taking potshots at it, the .357's kicking him 'round a seven-round drunk in a bar fight on karaoke night! But he kept gettin' back up and shootin'.
Next thing I knew, he was playing The Sound of Silence…
Gideon
Lowlight ran dry, so I drew the Colt and Browning and opened fire. Everything around me went mute, the only sound playing was music:
" Hello Darkness, my old friend…! "
I felt my hands rock with the vibration of both weapons. I was seeing red and my mind was starting to slip into the madness of battle: a deafening roar passed through my clenched teeth as I blazed my anger into the nearest targets and suppressed them.
" I've come to talk to you again…! "
Suddenly I started taking fire from all sides. I felt round slice through through my shin and drop me to my knee. The pain felt like something jumped up and bit me, but I gritted my teeth and kept shooting. That was my second mistake.
" Because a vision softly creeping… Left its seeds while I was sleeping…! "
Another round punched clean through my shoulder, and I fell to my back: an agonizing cry escaping my clinched teeth. As I tried to rise, another round hacked a hole through my arm, knocking me down again.
" Still remains… In the sound of silence…! "
My mind was spinning, my vision blurred, yet I could see sparks flashing off of a wobbling metal thing: ED-E. I made the effort to rise, dispensing the last of my rounds into the enemy and surprisingly dropping one unlucky bastard who had popped his head out at the wrong moment.
" In restless dreams I walked alone… Narrow streets of cobblestone…! "
His head busted apart like a tomato as the .45 APC round blew his brains out the back of his skull. I fired my last round, but the second one was quicker: diving to the side but still getting the round in his shoulder and knocking him to the ground. As my mind and ears began to cleared; Cass came running over with her scattergun held in one hand, her Browning in the other; screaming insults at the Mongrels that had me pinned downed with rounds pinging off the tarmac all around her. ED-E kept moving in a loop: lead hammering into his armor as he swung in front of Cass as she scurried to my side and attempted to heft my weight while trying to keep up the fire with her Browning.
"You're one fuckin' heavy bastard, ya know that?!" She cursed as she dragged me back towards a door and kicked it open: dragging me inside as ED-E hovered just ahead of us. Suddenly a round bounced off ED-E's armor and ricocheting into that dark and damp place and smashing into Cass's shoulder: a sudden painful cry escaping her as she crumpled back. ED-E seemed to scream in response with one long shrill song. He advanced and incinerated a Legionnaire who had been stupid enough to try his patience. Despite the pain, I went to one knee and dragged Cass further into the building.
"How bad is it?" Cass asked, her voice revealing the pain she was in. I gazed at the bloody hole, relief flowing through me seeing that the bullet had passed through her, not lodging in her shoulder as I feared.
"You'll be fine." I replied, my voice revealing the pain I was in, yet that didn't stop what I was about to do. I reached into one of the pouches on my gun belt and pulled out a syringe with a gauge at its head. She struggled: blocking me with her hand at the very sight of it, but I brushed it away and jabbed the syringe into the bullet hole and delivering its contents with a loud hiss. She screamed as the Stimpack worked its magic: the medical cocktail speeding up her body's metabolism tenfold and the entry scabbing over within a minute and a new layer of skin growing over a little more after that.
"Bastard!" She cursed, no doubt the terrifying pain ebbing into a constant soreness. I simply nodded and removed two more of gauged syringes. There was one problem with regular Stims: they worked on only areas of delivery. I breathed out slowly, placing a leather knot in between my teeth and then jabbed the syringe into my leg. Red hot pain roared within me, like my blood had been set on fire.
I bit down on the knot, a scream escaping my clinched teeth as I jabbed the second Stimpack into my shoulder and my mind filled with naught but pain with my body going slack as my hand shot forward and clutched onto something with an iron grip. When the worst ebbed away a minute later I realized that I had been clamping onto Cass's hand, which I just as quickly released. I spat out the leather knot: one side having been bit all the way through and instinctively looked up. My gaze were met by the woman's blue eyes, and they were held within their trance for what seemed like an eternity, although it was probably only for a few seconds.
"Ya okay?" She asked. I simply shrugged my shoulders and shook my head:
"I've had worse."
"Yeah. You look it."
The sudden report of rounds smacking against the door, and my armored doorman brought the two of us to reality. I got up to my knee, reached around and reloaded the rifle and my pistols, throwing the empty mags into a dump pouch hanging from my side. I holstered them and drew Lowlight. I looked over and saw Cass doing the same.
"What's the plan, boss?" She asked, brushing away a stray red hair that wondered over to her eyes. I looked back at the door way, at the suppressing fire blocking the door and at my poor robot who had taken a pretty bad beating:
"Can't risk going out through there. Even with ED-E they'd shred us to pieces."
"I reiterate my question, then. What'd we do now?"
"Divide and Conquer, that's what we do."
I turned my gaze to ED-E, who guarding the door and firing a bolt out open way, yet I suspected his wasn't jack squat. Yet, he was keeping the Legionnaires at bay.
"ED-E," I barked, to which he beeped in response, "overwatch and hold them here."
"We're going out the back?" Cass asked and I nodded.
"We loop around, quietly. Get the jump on 'em, kill them to the last man. Then we get out of this pit."
She nodded, bringing out her scattergun with a sense of determination. Alright, let's get to work. I brought Lowlight to my shoulder and took point, clearing the building room by room. Finally, we came across the main part of building, revealing it was a trading goods store. We also found a man donned in a blue suit, his legs smashed by what I knew had to have been a hammer.
My every instinct told me that this man was a Powder Ganger, and that I should put a bullet in him. However, I knew he wasn't going anywhere, and he was out cold. At first I thought it might've been from the pain, but then I saw four syringes of Med-X lying at his feet.
"Morphine." I grumbled. I moved past him, the audible sound of Cass spiting contemptuously behind echoed in the room. We moved past the main entrance, and slid out the side door into the street…
Boone
I quickly moved into my next position. The mid afternoon heat was dying away into the prelude of dusk. I slid the rifle from my back and removed my beret: stuffing it into my pocket. I went prone; moving a stone up ahead of me and I rested the barrel on top of it. I readjusted the scope, mentally checking the wind and humidity; all of which was at the norm. As I settled, I went back over the past five minutes.
I had been tracking the Crimsons ever since Novac for the past day and half. Must've spotted me a while back; sent a three man kill team to lie in wait. Found them, killed them. Cost me time though; a good half day amount of time. Finally picked up the trail again and then I spotted the smoke.
I was too late to save Nipton, but I was not too late to see what happened next: the standoff. On one side were three strangers: a cowgirl, a robot and a one-eyed killer. On the other side was none other Wolf's Head Inculta and his assassins. For what seemed an eternity; they held the other at gun point. Then one-eye pulled the gutsy thing and shot Vulpes.
Then they opened up; going from the street to the shop with the strangers pinned down. Yet, I had the feeling that one-eye was going to try something smart. I would've. So I moved to cover the alley leading out from the back entrance. I got there in time.
A black barrel popped out from the door. Cowgirl and one-eye sweeping left and right; him taking point, her taking rearguard. Smart. They moved down the street; watching the shadows. Then I realized how slow I've become.
A hand swept over and snatched the cowgirl. One-eye turned, fired, then got ambushed…
Gideon
As I advanced, my mind chastening me for being so stupid, so slow, I felt something grab my rifle. Before I could so much as turn; a heavy hand plowed into my face and my vision was sent spinning. I was then plucked from my feet and swung into a room; my back hit something hard, something made of wood. As my vision started to clear; I saw what I was up against: big bad wolf and his three little pigs.
"Can't we just talk about this?" I asked stumbling to my feet. The big guy just scoffed through his mask, the goggles obscuring his eyes and adjusted his feet for what I knew had to be the takedown punch:
"Typical, profligate. You fight with words not with your fists! "
Then suddenly it came swinging. If I had been slower, the blow would have probably killed me, but I saw this one coming. As his fist shot through the air, I dodged my head and body to the side, avoiding the punch. Then in that split second that followed, I grabbed him by his uniform and threw him off balance, causing him to go toppling over what had turned out to be a saloon bar. The next thing I knew I had another fist in my face, sending bowling over into a table.
He came in for another punch, but I ducked in and under his arm, delivering a gut shot and then followed with an uppercut. I then delivered a powerful frontal kick to his midsection which sent him flying backwards. Then I grabbed a chair and smashed it into unlucky number three, knocking him to the floor and splintering the chair to pieces. Then I swung my fist to down number four, but this one was ready. He blocked me and then delivered a cheap shot and then followed up with a round house which sent me spinning right back into the table.
As he advanced, I blocked his next blow and smashed a bottle over his head. As he started to stumble back, I drew the knife from my boot and finished him off; driving the blade in between his ribs. Shock and anger both registered in his eyes as he clutched at me with an iron grip, blood drooling down his open mouth. Finally, gravity did her work and he slumped to the floor, a pool of blood beginning to form around him. The others started closing in for the kill. I pointed the blade at the big guy, causing him to freeze as I did the only thing I knew would save my life:
"How about we die with dignity then?"
They all looked at each other, and then finally nodded. I slammed the knife into the table and began the ritual.
"A trial by combat then, Profligate. May your blade chip and shatter."
They all drew their own blades; long nine inch black pangas with crude handles wrapped in rags and leather, and slammed them into a table in front of them. They then proceeded to strip off their armor and remove their gun belts. I proceeded with the same; removing my coat, hat and belt, placing them on the table next to me. Then they removed their masks, revealing bald… boys. Each one couldn't have been more than eighteen, but I could see through their eyes the mark of the bull branded on their souls, stripping whatever innocence they may have once had and replacing it with hate.
Each one was shaven bald, paled skinned, the marks of their brutal livelihood dotting their faces. I knew that many of the Legion's ranks were made up with boys like these; taken captive and turned into slaves in their youth, any former culture and heritage beaten from them. They were brainwashed and beaten by their instructors; turning them into submissive, yet fanatical soldiers, able to endure an ungodly amount of pain. Yet I knew they had one particular weakness; it was their pride, they were honored bound to accept a challenge, no matter the circumstances. That was something I could take an advantage of: I had called their skills into question and now they needed to prove themselves.
We then drew our selective blades and I stepped into the circle, my opponents circling me like hungry Wolves, working for the kill. My eyes rolled over each one, finally settling on the one in front of me. I dropped my hands as a dare, grinning slightly to him. He growled and swung, the panga's death whistle coming for me. In an instant, his hand sipped past my head as I moved a little to the left, my hand catching his arm and pulling him in as I slashed upward through the solar plexus and through the man's trachea. Instinctively, I knew I had less than three seconds before I felt cold steel in my back, so I held on to the dying man and spun.
My instincts were right; and the dying man served as the perfect cover. Number three had thrust his blade at me, and had lodged into number two's back. I took the initiative; dropping the dead man, his weight dragging his comrade down with him. As he was starting to fall, I followed up with a blow to his head, the pommel stone knocking him to the floor. I then swept my blade to the side, deflecting the big guy's own slash with a sparks of metal's clashing.
This unbalanced him, causing him almost to trip so I then dropped to the floor in a heartbeat and swept my leg in an arc, knocking the big guy off his feet with a resounding crash. As I readied myself with a finishing blow, I was suddenly tackled from behind. I hit the ground hard, my knife being flung from hand with the blow. I looked up and saw number three on top of me. I only had a moment to react, so I tucked in both of my arms over my head, my elbows pointed upward.
As I suspected, the legionnaire started wailing on me with repeated blows, so I rolled head to arms back and forth to block them. Then I struck, launching both arms out at the same time, blocking his incoming blow with one arm and delivering a punch to the face with other. As he recoiled in pain, I grabbed him with both hands and threw him off of me. Yet as I was standing, I felt a boot in my stomach and I was sent flying backwards, right back to square one. My back smacked against the bar with a heavy thud, pain rolling right through my spine and shoulders and into everywhere else.
I looked up and saw the big guy starting to advance upon me, panga held tight in his grip. Then that's when I saw a hand reach across his shoulder and tap him gently on the shoulder. The hand had a red gauntlet on it so I assumed it was another Legionnaire, and then I saw it was a woman's hand! The big guy turned, allowing me to see the 'woman'. He just stared at her when all of a sudden she struck him with the force of stampede of mad Brahmin.
It sent him to the floor, blood drooling out mouth full of broken teeth. She then turned swiftly, catching number three's arm in mid-swing, twisting it to the side, causing him to drop the panga through screams of pain, and then she palm struck him in the chest, sending him flying into the wall. It left a massive hole in the wall where he'd impacted. Then the big guy rose and charged, howling at the top of his lungs. He jab the panga right into where her kidneys on her left side would've been.
Despite that, she just seemed to look down at the knife in curiosity, oblivious to any signs of pain. She then grabbed the man's hand slowly and forcefully pulled the blade out. She then jerked his hand up and twisted, breaking the man's wrist with a sickening crunch. As he wobbled on the floor clutching his broken wrist, she then grabbed him and literally threw him through the roof with only one hand! She then pulled him down, the man barely alive and then high kicked him in the chest, tossing his broken body clear across the room and into a wall.
She then turned towards me and just stared at me with expressionless eyes. Those eyes of icy blue bore an almost inhuman expression to them. I studied her; my eyes rolling all over her. She was about five-six, maybe hundred thirty with incredibly pale skin, hair like the color of gypsum. Yet that was not the stranger things about her. She wore what I could swear was some kind of some kind of dancing suit: for what old prewar magazines called 'belle'. She wore a red leather skin tight suit with clinchers at her waist.
The suit covered her entire torso, ending at the base of her collar line. They did not cover her thighs however, which roamed almost the color of milk until the edge of knees. Starting from there she wore long pantyhose's, connecting to a pair of black dancing high shoes, the heels only about an inch off the ground. She wore a pair of long, leather red gauntlets that covered her forearms until the base of the elbows, connected to a pair of half finger gloves. My eyes then rolled up to her face, her mouth cover by a satin clothe, and the hair plucked a head dress that had great lengths of red tail feathers that stood upward.
She then reached up and pulled down the satin, revealing lips as red as an oak apple and she smiled at me, like a kindly fortune teller out east. She then reached down and plucked me from the ground, and when I groaned from the pain, she reached a hand around and touched the small of my back with gentle grace. Suddenly, I felt no pain, replaced by a soothing aurora I could not truly describe. It was, however, pleasant. Truly pleasant.
"Who are you?" I asked, looking down at the woman who was a good head shorter than me, "are you with Arcanum?"
"In more ways than one, I guess I am," She replied with a calming smile and a voice as smooth as Bore's silk, "for I am his partner."
"Are you…" I began, struggling to find the words to come, "… an angel?"
She then turned her head and laughed. The laugh was so much sweeter than the rippling of a mountain stream, yet so much the mocking of a vulture's crow. She then looked back at me, her eyes a blaze with a fiery curiosity:
"Am I an angel? Young Mr. Maddox, I did not think you so dim as to not grasp the obvious. For I am Advena: the one who has saved your life."
I knew I should've be offended by the remark, yet the whims of it bore truth, so I shrugged it off. I went past her, reaching for my equipment and my fallen weapons:
"Arcanum sees so much in you." She spoke behind my back.
"What does he see?" I asked.
"A sword: one of no finer quality, one of greatest purity and faith."
"And what do you see in me?"
"A wounded soul," She began, her fingers touching the spot where my heart was, "a broken and mended heart, whose past has come to haunt his addled mind, and the future who wishes to test his spirit."
She then pointed out the door and spoke again:
"I believe that our young Ms. Cassidy shall require your assistance, Mr. Maddox."
Before I could fathom a reply, she was gone, gone in the sudden flutter of bird wings. Part of me wanted to be scared, paralyzed, to gaze at the mockingjay that had scolded me yet had saved my life. Then the animalistic side of things: the battered warrior within me ordered me not to not dwell in the past, to soldier on and carry on with the mission ahead. I fed a fresh clip into Lowlight and sheathed my combat knife. I tucked the weapon into my shoulder and made my way through the carnage that lay at my feet.
As I approached the door I stopped and listened, opening my mouth slightly, waiting for some indication of what laid ahead. At first, I heard nothing. Then that's when I heard the muffled cries of a struggle to my left. I swung my weapon left and right up the street, looking for someone so bold and foolhardy to want to try his luck. I saw nothing, but as I made my way down the street, I could not shake the feeling that I was being watched.
Yet, by who? Were they mortal or of some unforeseen specter who had taken an interest in me for some odd reason? I shook my head, taking on the feeling by the horns and focused my attention on what laid ahead. I had taken no more than four steps from the door when the Sensorium started beeping. There was a tickmark moving ahead of me, probably at the door.
I could definitely hear something, but it sounded like—wait. Make that two—no three tickmarks. They seemed to be dropping in and out or were clumping together—wait, what the hell was that? Suddenly, there was a loud crash of splinters as a hole was blown through the door. Then a second later it was followed by a body that broke down the splintered door.
His red armor was adorned with an enormous hole, all surrounded by an army of even tinier holes around that. Then another came stumbling out, so I ended his existence in a heartbeat. I moved forward, stepping over the bodies, my rifle pointed as I paned the door; expecting more inside: only finding Cass. She was slumped against a crate: her face only illuminated by the burning embers of a cigarette bud. She took a long drawl: the smoke trailing out of her mouth, the smoke stick held low, revealing another body that lay at her feet.
This one's throat was cut. She looked up at me, and I shook my head:
"Sorry I'm late. Got hung up."
"Same."
"C'mon. The fight's not done yet..."
Boone
I was relieved. Through the scope I could see them both, battered but not broken. They were moving again. Down the road, rifles ready to rock. So I shifted positions, moving down the rock face. I almost got there the same time as the others.
I then went prone, my scope adjusted eight hundred yards. There were still a little under a dozen Crimson in the valley below. I wasn't sure what they were doing. Then I saw it. They had the robot ensnared in tensile steel nets, their spears and guns on him. Perfect opportunity.
I peered down, magnifying the image. One-eye had circled around with Cowgirl at his side. He had his gun raised, but was observing them. He was waiting for the opportunity. Then he turned and looked right at me.
I wasn't sure at first. I moved my head and eyed him again. He was still looking at me. He raised his rifle and peered at me with his own scope. I tensed, then I realized he had his trigger finger off.
We just stared at each other. Cowgirl asked the question and he pointed at me. I raised my fist: signing no ill intention. He… understood, and then signed back. I pointed to the Crimson, and then signed shoot on five after me.
He nodded, and went to position. He whispered to Cowgirl and she nodded. She looked up into the hills, but she couldn't see me though. I got ready. I eased myself into position.
I brought the crosshairs onto the Legion Decanus: a squad leader. He was easy to spot: helmets have a main of black hair. I breathed in slowly, pacing myself. Finally, I relaxed and fired…
Gideon
The shot ranged out from the hills; a split-second later the Decanus was dropped. Confusion followed and we took full advantage of it. I rose and I opened up on the Legionaries. They didn't stand a chance; they began dropping like flies as we started tearing them apart. I dropped one close to the net who was going for some SMG: the 5.56 popping his head in a backward red explosion. Saw another get the full blast of Cass's double barrel.
Another Legionnaire was dropped; this time his head exploded in a fine explosion, the distinct report could only be that of a long barrel .308 caliber rifle. I guessed my mystery sniper had to be atleast a half mile out, and even with his elevation it would have been an incredibly difficult shot. I had an immediate respect for the man. Suddenly there was a growl: a savage, animalistic growl. I turned, my mind seeming to register the scene in minutes rather than seconds.
I turned in time, slowed by something else, to see a monster of dog, filthy and coal furred, his eyes as red as rubies. His fangs were gleaming like swords unsheaved as he had lunged, his jowls no more than a foot from my face. He was closing in: I could actually smell the rot in its mouth. Then a glimmer of metal flew true and entered the mongrels' skull, exiting out in a trail of red as it continued to fly like a rocket. The mongrel dropped to my feet, and I saw more coming.
One lunged and I slammed the butt of the weapon in its face, knocking it to the side. Then another followed so I swiped the stock upward and knocked it back. The last one was a little slower, I stepped to the side and shot the beast right into the side of the chest. The others jumped at me so I backed and preceded the same treatment to another, this time at the scruff of his neck. I then executed the last one with a round to the head.
Suddenly I felt the air whizz past my head. I rolled and dived for cover just as more lead hit the wall. Then suddenly there was a loud crackle of ozone and the smell of sulfur. I turned and an immense electrical blast erupted from ED-E, stunning the Legionaries. I raised my rifle and fired.
"Time ta cash yer cards early, you shitheads!" Cass screamed over the roar of her shotgun. Let the dominoes fall…
Cass
When the smoke cleared, nothin' that wasn't us sure-as-shit wasn't standing. I waded through the corpses at my feet, my scattergun held tight as we looked fer survivors. My back-hairs, though, were standing fuckin' straight. When Gideon said that there'd been a sniper in the hills, his crosshairs on us, I almost didn't believe him. Yet, when we were droppin' the hammer and deliverin' indiscriminate justice: heads started popping and I knew we had an ace up our sleeve. Whoever the hell that ace was, I didn't know
It was quiet. That creepy crawly kinda quiet that comes after the firefight like you were standin' at a tombstone. Then that quiet was broken by a loud groan. I turned around, and I saw the fucker, somehow still breathin' even with a hole in his fuckin' chest! Wolf's Head! I marched right up to him, and put both barrels in his face; my teeth clenched in a fuckin' snarl!
Fire bubbled up my guts and somethin' in the back of my head started shouting Kill him, girl, just fucking kill him! But he looked up at me. He fucking grinned at me! Even with droves of blood pumping outta his mouth and turning his white skin red, he just kept fuckin' grinning! Then I understood: he wanted me ta kill him, and that made my soul feel a tad bit colder.
Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, findin' it belonged to Gideon. I eased back, and he stood over the dying man. They seemed to stare at each other for what seemed an eternity. That was ended with a loud flick, and the knife was in his hand. He reflected the light from the dyin' sun as he took a knee: his blade held over the fucker's throat.
"This…" Wolf's Head choked, "This won't change anything. One day… one day soon… you will join these wretches… for the vengeance of mars can never be… sated."
Gideon just smirked at him:
"You can tell him that when you meet him."
Then his hand came up with a black cylinder.
"Flashbang!"
I shielded my eyes, but my ears got the rest of it. Fer the next couple-a minutes, my head felt like someone was ringin' fucking churchbells in it. When I came to, Wolf's Head was gone. I looked around, 'pecting ta see a blood trail or something, but there wasn't one. It was like he just… disappeared.
