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November 17th, 2280, 1:21 p.m.
"– and then I play my joker on my ace of spades, which takes your two of spades out of your caravan, making it now twenty-four! Unless you have another two or thee, I win!"
The NCR trooper stared at the cards in his hand and then up at the bubbly Private that had talked him into playing a card game that had been described as "simple as shitin'."
"This game is stupid," the older trooper declared as he threw his cards on the table, leaning back in his seat and glaring at the Private incredulously. "I ain't seen it in none of the casinos on the strip, and it sure as hell ain't 'simple as shitin'."
The Private's face fell. "Now don't be like that," he whined. "Nobody likes a sore loser! I know you'll get the hang of it if you give it another shot – you almost had me there for a moment."
"Stick with shootin' and eatin'. You make a terrible con-man," the trooper replied.
"Talked you out of ten caps – can't be that terrible!" the Private quipped with a smile. Taking the caps from the table, he shined them on his shirt before putting them into his pocket.
"Yeah yeah …" the trooper conceded, waving his hand dismissively towards the Private. "Don't know why you're so into that silly game – ain't gonna' make you any money on the strip."
"It's really popular everywhere else, though!" the Private said, expressively gesturing with one hand while his other finished collecting his winnings. "I was surprised you'd never heard of it! Heck, they probably play it across the river in the Legion! If I got caught, I bet I could challenge them to a game of this and win my way to freedom!"
The trooper grinned and shook his head before replying. "Son, if you get caught, you're gonna' find yourself at the top of a post with rebar pushed through your arms and legs 'fore you can say 'shit'. They don't play no games in Caesar's Legion."
"Well that's not entirely true," a metallic voice stated. The soldiers turned and were met with a very odd sight. A man, a small floating robot and a grey super mutant wearing a pair of overalls, gardening gloves and a straw bonnet were standing in the doorway of the break-room in which they were relaxing. The man continued, speaking through a heavy rebreather, "They have gambling just like we do. Dice rolling, dog fights, sometimes they just toss coins, or 'capita aut chasma,' as they call it. Their rules are usually less defined, and with the homemade nature of their gambling implements, cheating is fairly commonplace – even expected. Then again, gambling while on duty gets your pinkies cut off, so I guess it's not really a very friendly environment for the practice."
The soldiers stared with mouths agape at the three out-of-place figures. When it was clear that no comment was arising from the astonished troopers, the man coughed and asked simply, "Do you know where I could find Quartermaster Bardon?"
"Uhh… He's another floor down at the base of the stairs – first door on your right," the older trooper answered, pointing his thumb in the Quartermaster's direction.
"Thank you very much!" the man replied, making his way out of the room. The floating robot whirred at them happily as it followed suit.
"Goodbye, dearies!" the super mutant said in a deep gravely voice. The soldiers jumped at the statement and stared wide-eyed as the hulking figure left the room, waving to them the whole time. "What nice young men," the super mutant continued as it moved down the hall.
"The hell was that?" the older trooper asked loudly, turning his gaze from the doorway to the Private. The Private was still staring after the strange group, mouth hanging open loosely. "Hey!" the trooper snapped, bringing the Private out of his stupor. "The hell's wrong with you?"
"That was the Courier! The Courier," the private stated excitedly. "Holy shit, the Courier is working with the NCR!"
"Courier? You mean those messenger boys that work out of the Hub?" the trooper asked incredulously.
The Private was now overflowing with excitement, and as he spoke, his voice occasionally cracked loudly. "Well, I guess he was just a courier for awhile, but this guy was the Courier! This guy has been all across the entire Mojave and then some! They say he was shot in the head and was back on his feet within hours! One time, I heard he fought an entire family of deathclaws just as a favor. On the radio, it's said he befriended a group of ghouls and shot them into space in rockets! That guy is a living legend! Now he's working for the NCR!? My mom is never going to believe this!"
The trooper shook his head and grinned at the bubbly Private. "You'd better check your radio with maintenance, boy. I think either its battery is leakin' or the radio-waves must've addled up your brain some."
"I ain't no addled," the Private proclaimed, glaring at the smiling trooper. "Even if half of the stories about this guy are true, he could turn the tide of this war against the Legion."
"Speaking of which," the trooper said while leaning forward, "how'd he know so much 'bout those assholes from the East? 'Even spoke some of that lay-ton that they so proud of. Is he some kind of Legion sympathizer?"
"The Courier? Heck no," the Private replied adamantly. "He's all about helping people and would never enslave nobody, unlike those Legion assholes."
"Hicks, you lazy sack of Brahmin shit!" Private Hicks jumped out of his chair and stood at attention. An officer was standing at the doorway, seething in fury as she pointed at the shaking private. "I told you if you missed duty again I'd take your alcohol ration and feed it to the lakelurks! This isn't a pleasure club like Gomorrah, and I am not your pimp! Now straighten up your uniform and get the fuck to work!" The officer stormed off, her heavy boots accentuating the finality of her statement.
"Well, shoot…" Private Hicks said, lowering his shoulders and sighing dejectedly. "I was finally taking a liking to alcohol. Now if she has her way, I won't get a drink 'till the next president is elected."
The older trooper rocked with a belly laugh as he stood up, patting Hicks on the shoulder. "There, there," he said, trying to comfort the moping Private. "I'm sure if you ask real nice like, the lakelurks would be happy to share their stuff. Now, you'd best be making tracks – don't worry, I'll clean up your cards for ya'."
The Private ginned sheepishly at the trooper, "I appreciate it. I'll teach you more about Caravan later! Heck, I'll even play for fun 'til you get the hang of it!"
"Tell you what," the trooper said; pushing Hicks towards the door, "I'll play Caravan again when your friend 'The Courier' starts fighting the NCR's battles for them. If he's really working for us, I'll prolly' be better at it than you by the time this war ends."
"Alright!" Private Hicks replied as he made his way down the hall, saluting awkwardly. "You've got yourself a deal!"
The trooper chuckled as the Private moved down the hallway. Retrieving the pack of cards, he glanced out of the room and seeing nobody approaching, made his way towards the exit of the Dam's maze of hallways. In the Dam's visitor center, he stopped and had a quick conversation with a group of engineers, laughing happily at their response and drawing a round of smiles. Moving outside, he gestured familiarly at a Ranger on duty and began the long walk towards Boulder City.
As he reached a deteriorating bridge, he glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby before making his way underneath it. Sliding down the embankment, he pulled out a radio and turned it on, changing the frequency until he reached his desired channel.
He keyed the radio's microphone on and spoke into it quietly. "Lupa, this is Frumentarius Remus. Over."
The radio hissed static for a moment before it responded. "This is Lupa, what is your message? Over."
Remus glanced around, once more making sure nobody was within earshot before replying. "The Courier is working with the NCR. I repeat. The Courier is working with the NCR, over."
More static hissed from the radio, and it seemed like ages before it responded. "Acknowledged. We are activating asset Ursus. You are to return to your post and keep tabs on the Courier's acceptance within the NCR. Do you copy? Over."
Remus stared at the radio, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Ursus is working with the Courier?"
He was answered with the silence of static before the radio one again asked, "Do you copy? Over."
"I copy. Ave, true to Caesar."
"Ave, true to Caesar."
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October 23rd, 2281, 7:35 a.m.
Another wave of Legionaries rushed forward from the eastern intake tower of the Hoover Dam. There they met a withering barrage of gunfire and were quickly forced behind cover. The NCR Rangers had done their best to cripple the first Legionaires to rush across the narrow bridge, knowing that the Legion sent their least experienced troops to the front line first. What was once a clear walkway to the dam proper was now an almost impassable path, covered with groaning Legionaries clutching at useless legs.
Further to the east, the Legion forces steadily advanced on the entrenched NCR troopers. Cut off from reinforcements by the Legion's assault behind them, the NCR forces were being systematically pushed back by the relentless Legionaires. The jaws began to close on the NCR as the Legion pressured them from two sides.
Deeper within the dam, a group of engineers cowered in a small mess hall as sounds of battle echoed through the cramped hallways. The trapped Legionaries fought bitterly to the last man as the NCR methodically moved through the plant, stamping out any resistance to keep from once more being flanked on a third side.
Above the echoing sounds of combat, the hum of the dam's turbines rumbled on, rising in intensity and causing the ground itself to shake. The combatants of both sides took almost no notice of the activity of the dam's turbines, but the increased output had set forth an impressive chain of events. Deep underneath the Legion camp at Fortification Hill, thousands of screens flickered to life as the Securitron army stationed there was activated. Generators whirred angrily as the armored forms shook off the dust of two centuries and made their way to vast gateways. Halting before the heavy steel leading to the outside world, the Securitrons stood motionless again.
A Securitron at the front and center of one of the formations changed the image on its view-screen from a soldier to that of a smiling emoticon stuck in a perpetual state of joy. The Securitron's speakers cracked harshly to life. "Oh boy! This is going to be neat!" the automaton said ecstatically, its jubilation echoing throughout the silent bunker.
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Veonica struggled to reach the access hatch on her armor that would allow her to restart the generator within. With the servos of her left armguard clamped together tightly, she couldn't easily reach down and expose the lever that would kick-start her armor and begin the process of rebooting. Looking helplessly across the room, she marveled at the ferocity of the two combatants now locked in battle.
Despite the vicious cuts across Ursus' arm and chest it would be a grave mistake to consider him at a disadvantage. Checking his swings to ensure he did not discharge his weapon prematurely, Ursus methodically stalked his more agile opponent. Keeping Denn from gaining any momentum in the fight, Ursus accepted the glancing blows that Denn managed to inflict as he perpetually kept his heavy sledge swinging towards the Courier.
Denn played his part in the confrontation perfectly, always staying one step ahead of Ursus' relentless assault. Every time Ursus left him an opportunity to counterattack he did so, dashing out of range immediately after to avoid the Centurion's brutal response. His strikes were quick, but not powerful, and were meant to whittle down the hulking fighter rather then devastate him with a single strike, yet Denn knew that he had to stay on the defensive. A single blow from Ursus' sledge had a high chance of causing devastating damage that would quickly cause the fight to go in the man's favor.
Their deadly dance continued as they moved across the room. Jumping over the destroyed NCR fortifications, Denn tried to put some distance between Ursus and himself to gain a momentary reprieve. Ursus leaped after him, falling into a roll as he passed over the sandbags and rising expertly with his sledge already in motion. Again forced on his heels, Denn backed away quickly.
Biding his time for the right moment to attack, Denn continued to dash in and out of the Centurion's range. Finally, he saw his chance as Ursus swung his sledge in a brutal downswing. Moving forward, Denn stepped onto the shaft of the weapon while sliding his machete up its length. Ursus attempted to lift the super sledge, but when Denn's vicious blade reached his hands, he instinctively released the weapon.
Kicking his leg back, Denn slid the sledge across the room and dashed away, trying to disengage from his opponent – while Denn had disarmed him, Ursus' physical strength still made him a major threat. As he started to dive, Denn felt Ursus seize his left arm. Growling angrily, Ursus yanked the lithe Courier back towards him and forced the machete from his hands. The Centurion's free hand leaped out and clamped down on Denn's throat, slowly lifting his opponent from the ground.
Desperately, Denn reached into his coat and pulled out a knife, driving it up into Ursus' wrist. The giant roared in agony but refused to relinquish his chokehold. Feeling the Centurion's hand begin to close like a vice, Denn reversed his grip on the knife and pulled it away from his body, the sharpened blade slicing through Ursus' arm as he did so.
The attack caused Ursus to finally release his throat, but before Denn could shift his weight to pull his other arm free, the Centurion returned his hand to Denn's lower body. Seizing Denn's belt and shifting his other hand to the Courier's shoulder, Ursus lifted his opponent above his head. Roaring in rage and agony, he drove Denn to the ground while simultaneously kneeling. The combined force of gravity and Ursus' strength brought the Courier's back crashing down onto the Centurion's exposed knee with a resounding crack.
A quiet ringing filled Veronica's head, drowning out the endless drone of the Dam's generators. Her mind was unable to process what she had just seen. Denn's body lay broken upon Ursus' knee; his arms fully extended and hanging limp while his chest rose and fell weakly. Ursus' head remained above Denn's chest, his eyes closed and his teeth gritted tightly.
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In the hallways around the entwined combatants, the last of the Legion forces were finally disposed of. An NCR Heavy Trooper swung his Super Sledge through the pitiful defenses of a prone soldier, smashing through the raised machete and caving in the Legionary's chest. Blood exploded out of the young man's mouth and what breath he had left was wasted on a stunted gasp.
As the lone soldier's life was ended, the battle on the Dam above raged as Caesar's Legion finally overwhelmed the cut-off NCR troopers. Legionaries viciously hacked away at their enemies, screaming in rage while their victims simultaneously screamed in agony. Machetes rose and fell, embedding themselves into the men and women of the west. Once more the Hoover Dam was soaked with the blood of the NCR.
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Ursus' mouth moved without cause as his thoughts failed to reach the point of words. The Centurion's eyes opened suddenly and he stared at the Courier's body, Denn's moving chest the only sign of continued life. "I … am sorry," Ursus choked out finally, his breathing shallow as he held his broken friend and combatant.
"As am I," Denn said clearly and snapped his left hand up into the bridge of Ursus' nose. Rolling off the reeling Centurion's knee, he pulled a grenade from his bandolier with his right hand, deftly removing its pin and safety clip in the same motion. Spinning quickly, he shoved the explosive into Ursus' armguard.
Pulling away from the rising giant, he reversed his momentum and leapt up, rotating once in the air to bring the heel of his left foot into contact with Ursus' chest. A furious blast of sound erupted from his boot as it connected with Ursus, sending a shockwave of force into the hulking Centurion. Losing his footing, Ursus fell to the ground with no control of his momentum. Doing his best to regain his balance, Ursus desperately tried to pull the grenade out of his armor – but it was too late.
Denn's body prevented Veronica from seeing the effect of the blast, but the wet thump of the grenade's explosion reverberated throughout the room, almost drowning out the sound of gore splashing onto metal and concrete. The relative silence of the Dam's turbines stretched on until the Courier moved forward to Ursus' side, finally revealing to Veronica the damage his explosive had done.
Ursus' armguard had contained most of the blast and forced it through the path of least resistance, the man's shoulder and neck. Veronica focused on the destroyed armor, refusing to look back at the man she had once known. Denn, however, refused to look away. The grenade had devastated Ursus' upper body. His dense muscle had kept his chest from being completely destroyed, but the force of the explosion had ripped apart most of his shoulder and torn through the majority of the neighboring flesh.
Reaching down, Denn checked Ursus' body for a pulse. He found none. Lifting the chin of the corpse he noticed several wounds to the side of the head where shrapnel had pierced Ursus' skull. Hoping that death had been instantaneous, Denn released the Centurion's head and lowered his own, gripping Ursus' remaining shoulder tightly with his right hand. Moments passed as the Courier said a short prayer to Mars on his combatant's behalf, knowing the man would have done the same for him. Denn rose and raised his arm to his chest in a final salute before turning away from the corpse. Purposefully, he retrieved his weapon and made his way back to Veronica.
"War…" He muttered darkly. "War never changes."