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September 28th, 2281, 1:43 p.m.

Red Lucy climbed down the ladder leading to the Thorn's holding pens. The clamor of the crowd still echoed through the underground structure even though the fight between the Courier and the deathclaw had ended minutes before. Lucy's eyes glowed hungrily as she recalled the violent confrontation. The fight had been nothing if not marvelous, and the intensity of the two combatants still resonated within Red Lucy's heart.

Reaching the bottom of the ladder, she made her way towards where the Courier was waiting. Handlers rushed about, doing their best to keep the beasts of the Thorn under control. A pack of nightstalkers hissed loudly from a holding pen, antagonized by the vibrations of the raucous crowd. Molerats crowded together defensively in a corner of their pen with their young in the middle and the older, larger creatures surrounding them.

A pair of deathclaws were the only animals unaffected by the sound and aura of excitement in the Thorn. They lounged lazily in their enclosure, seemingly without a care in the world. As Red Lucy passed by them, the two creatures raised their heads and sniffed. Recognizing her scent, a low rumble emerged from one's chest and the other rose and moved towards the metal gate separating them from the rest of the Thorn.

Red Lucy stopped and held her glove out to the looming monster. Pushing its head forward through the metal bars, the deathclaw's horns caught against the gate, keeping it from reaching its head entirely out of its enclosure. The animal sniffed her blood-soaked hand.

A quiet hiss emerged from the deathclaw's throat and it looked into Red Lucy's eyes curiously. She made no movement and after a moment, the deathclaw snorted and stalked back to the center of the room. It bumped its head against its counterpart's, and the second deathclaw growled softly. The first animal seemed to shrug and dropped back down into a relaxed ball. Red Lucy could just make out the creature's eyes reflecting the light from the hallway, watching her warily. The Thorn's owner smiled slightly for a moment before continuing towards the staging area, her face returning to its customary emotionless mask.

Arriving at her destination, she reached forward to open the steel hatch. Her hand froze mid movement, and for the first time in recent memory, she was filled with trepidation.

When she had first encountered the man who would become known as the Courier four years ago, she had been thoroughly unimpressed. On a simple delivery mission, he had left the Thorn as quickly as he had come. Unable to meet Red Lucy's gaze for any extended amount of time, he had refused the offer to watch a match in the arena.

A year after this meeting, tales of the Courier's accomplishments began to reach Westside. Red Lucy had refused to believe them. There was no way the timid creature she had met was capable of the feats being accredited him. As the legend of the Courier grew, Red Lucy's opinion worsened. To her, he was a liar and a conman – taking advantage of the weak-minded to further bloat his own image.

Because of this, when he had arrived a month ago she had greeted him even more coldly than she normally acted. Distant as the grave, she refused to even listen to his request until he had completed a series of tasks for her. Red Lucy had sent him out to acquire eggs from the most dangerous of the wasteland's predators. He had returned, quickly and unharmed, two weeks later with the entire collection of eggs at once.

Such a feat had only made Red Lucy more wary. She suspected the Courier had purchased the eggs or somehow persuaded others to retrieve them for him, so she again refused to hear him out. He had surprised her when he had asked to fight in the Thorn against a deathclaw in order to earn her favor.

What had happened to the Courier to so vastly change the man? Red Lucy glanced down at the blade he had thrown to her. It was of a metal she had never seen before, and the sharpness of its edge was unparalleled. The lethality of the weapon echoed that of its owner, and Red Lucy reluctantly admitted that it impressed her. As she looked back up to the steel hatch, she realized it also intimidated her. She had defeated a deathclaw alone – once – but only after leading it into a trap at a location of her choosing. To fight a deathclaw head-on without a wide array of firearms was insanity. This man had done so, and he had won.

A jolt of electricity shot up her spine as she remembered the roar of the Courier and the response from the crowd. She frowned at the surge of excitement and the uncertainty that had preceded it. Emotion was not a hunter's ally, and hesitation in the midst of a chase was potentially a lethal mistake. She shook her head and purposefully opened the steel hatch, pushing the heavy metal open and making her way inside.

Steam filled the air as the hot water from the room's shower slowly washed the deathclaw's blood from the Courier's body. He stood with his back to Red Lucy, naked besides his glowing Pip-Boy. His unlatched rebreather hung loosely in one hand while his other scrubbed his flesh with a small block of abraxo. Even where the blood seemed to be cleared away, his skin retained a dull hint of crimson that contrasted sharply with the dark red of his scars and burns.

Red Lucy found herself unable to make a sound. Had he not heard her enter? She was accustomed to walking through the Thorn with impunity – it had not occurred to her to knock. She debated whether or not to leave the room and shifted uncomfortably in place, unsure of how to proceed.

"Still think my accomplishments are 'hollow lies?" the Courier asked suddenly, breaking the silence of the hissing water. His voice was deep and coarse, and his enunciation made it seem as if talking was difficult. He slowly reattached his rebreather as he waited for Red Lucy's response.

The leader of the Thorn cleared her throat, collecting her scattered thoughts. "I may only speak on what I saw," she said, "and what I saw was… impressive."

The Courier laughed and shut off the water before turning towards the doorway. A waist-high barrier protected his modesty, but everything above that was very, very visible. Hardened muscles corded tightly around his frame, overlapping one other beneath scarred skin. Steam rose from his body as he crossed his arms and put his weight on one foot, mimicking Red Lucy's customary pose.

The leader of the Thorn met the Courier's gaze and her breath faltered – her trepidation from before returning twofold. The man's irises were devoid of any color, the same as many of the predators of the Mojave. In them she saw the same savagery as the deathclaw she had encountered moments ago. His body was clearly human, but his eyes belonged to something else entirely.

The Courier dropped one eyebrow curiously and Red Lucy realized that she was staring. Shaking her head, she internally chastised herself and did her best to focus on her reason for being here. "You had something to ask of me?" she said.

"Perhaps we should wait until another time," the Courier stated, "I appear to have you at a disadvantage."

Red Lucy's eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. "Speak, hunter," she said icily, "this chance is your last."

"As you will," the Courier said, taking a towel and wrapping it around his waist before moving towards the doorway. There was a lupine grace in his step, and again Red Lucy saw him as something more than human. He stopped in front of the Thorn's leader and stood with his arms behind his back. Even with his stature being shorter than her own, she still felt intimidated by his presence, especially with his standing so close. "The Legion will soon attack Hoover Dam," he continued. "My allies and I will hold them back, but with the majority of our attention on the Legion, the various raider groups will use the chaos to their advantage. You must prepare Westside to withstand whatever attack comes its way. I will provide you with a squad of Securitrons to aid in this defense.

"In return, I ask that you and ten of your most capable hunters aid at the battle of Hoover Dam," he raised his hand as Red Lucy's eyes narrowed further. "You will not be deployed anywhere near the front lines. There have been rising reports of Cazadors in the area, and the NCR and myself are ill equipped to handle them at the same time as the Legion. All that I ask you to do is what you do best – hunt."

Red Lucy considered the Courier's request and did not find it that unappealing. She had found it more and more difficult to find time to leave the Thorn in the recent months. Additionally, Cazadors were a relatively new arrival to the wasteland, and she had been unable to test her strength against them as often as she would like. If what the Courier said was true and the various raider groups of the Mojave were preparing to use the upcoming chaos to their advantage, Westside would greatly benefit from the added armament of a few Securitrons.

More time spent with the Courier could also reveal what other strengths the man possessed…

A short cough interrupted her thought process and she realized that in her distracted state her eyes had wandered – betraying her as they traced the myriad of scars across the Courier's torso. Her gaze shot back up to meet the Courier's and her throat throttled whatever reply she had prepared.

His eyes, they were so much like a hunter's. There was such a profound intelligence, a calculating coldness. She could see something resembling a spark of humanity, but it seemed distant – disconnected. The level of detachment put Red Lucy on edge.

Detachment was an ideal she had pursued her entire life – there was too much she had already lost to the wasteland – and to see it so perfectly realized in a human being was astounding. She now understood that this is how she must appear to everyone else – her emotions kept locked deep within her, away from prying eyes. The Courier was the same yet, different, unknown.

Fire filled her veins, and Red Lucy realized she had stepped forward. The Courier remained where he was, not acknowledging her response in any way. He simply stood there, watching her. Every fiber of her being told her that the man before her was dangerous, and she needed it.

He needed something from her as well, she could tell that much at least. What that need was exactly, she did not know, but it was more than a simple request for martial aid. "What do you really want of me?" she finally asked, her voice low and rough.

The Courier's eyebrows rose, and he seemed to consider Red Lucy more carefully. Red Lucy's heart raced at the man's increased scrutiny and her senses went into overdrive – her muscles tensing as a spring – ready to pounce on the man before her.

"It is not by chance that you are master of the Thorn," the Courier finally said, bowing his head but making no other movement.

"The Thorn is my master, not the other way around," Red Lucy replied, disappointed at the tameness of his response. She crossed her arms and leaned back, away from the victor of the Thorn. "Actions prove one's worth," she stated, pausing for a moment before continuing "and you have proven yours. I will aid you."

"You have my thanks," the Courier said, pulling his arms from behind his back and holding a hand out towards Red Lucy.

Red Lucy ignored the intended handshake, quickly drawing the Courier's weapon and placing it in the man's outstretched palm. Closing his fist around the knife's hilt with both of her hands, she pulled the man's arm towards her and simultaneously leaned forward. She spoke slowly, her voice just barely above a whisper; "I aid you on one condition. You will return and pay tribute once more to the Thorn. Fight for the Thorn, and me. I will have your word."

The Courier again scrutinized her, and this time she met his gaze unwaveringly. He nodded, and she released his hand. Red Lucy turned away and opened the hatchway, the echo of warmth from the Courier's hand a sharp contrast to the steam covered steel. She paused in the entryway and turned her head back towards the Courier. "I shall accommodate you tonight, alone. We leave in the morning," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The Courier's eyebrows lowered curiously and then rose in understanding. He seemed taken aback by the statement and unsure of what to say. Red Lucy smirked at his response, holding his gaze for a moment before turning away and closing the door. She stalked her way through the Thorn's holding pens with renewed confidence.

Back in the room, the Courier stared at the hatch for a moment before shaking his head and moving to rinse his weapon in the room's shower. Pulling his rebreather away from his mouth, he coughed and spat out the last remnants of blood from his throat. He considered what had just happened as he turned back to his equipment. Not many people could read into his intentions at all, and Red Lucy's ability to do so, even at a base level, confirmed his decision to include her in his plans for the Mojave.

Red Lucy's intentions towards him, however, were clearly not as virtuous. Pulling on a clean pair of jeans and a coarse t-shirt, he decided against equipping the remainder of his armor. Collecting his equipment, the Courier made his way out of the room, eyebrows creased in thought.

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October 23rd, 2281, 8:29 a.m.

A missile screamed across the dam. A shout was the only warning its intended target received, and it was all that the armored soldier needed. Hefting his minigun behind him with one hand, he held his other arm in front of his face and turned away from the approaching explosive. An instant later he was surrounded by fire as the missile exploded against his armor, superheating the air around him and releasing a shockwave that reverberated across the battlefield. The fire and smoke settled, and the armored behemoth easily re-hefted his heavy weapon, firing a seemingly endless supply of ammunition towards the Legion.

The missile strike was not ignored entirely, however. A stream of crimson rockets lanced out from the top of the tower to the armored soldier's right, bombarding the Legion position responsible for the projectile. Screams and howls of agony echoed the explosions, and the Legionaries who survived clutched helplessly at shattered limbs.

Still the Legion pressed forward. There was no fear in their assault - no doubt as they charged to their deaths by the dozens. What they faced before them was a brutal end, but a swift one. The death they would find should they refuse orders or flee was not as merciful.

And so they charged. Foot-by-foot they pressed closer to the middle of the dam, using the corpses of their fallen comrades as cover from the withering barrage of gunfire and explosives.

"Christ," the helmetless Ranger beside Veronica exclaimed, surveying the battlefield with worried eyes. Veronica shared in his disbelief, shifting awkwardly in the spare riot armor she had been given. The Legion were taking devastating casualties but were still, impossibly, gaining ground towards the NCR defenses.

"We need Oliver," Veronica admitted quietly. The Rangers were gradually running out of ammunition, and without backup, the inexorable approach of the Legion would eventually overwhelm them.

The Courier suddenly appeared, sprinting from the concrete tower with his rocket launcher strapped tightly to his back. He reached the bottom of the fortification and didn't bother to make his way through the doorway, instead leaping in the air and quickly pulling himself up the uneven wall of the fortification. Jumping over a stunned Ranger's head, he landed heavily on the sheet metal floor.

"Change of plans," Denn said, ducking down beside Veronica and the Ranger. "We can't wait for Oliver. Prepare to move forward. We have to push the Legion to the chokepoint between the Fort and Lanius' camp."

The Ranger and Veronica stared at Denn with jaws dropped. "Prepare to what?!" the Ranger said with disbelief. "How? The Legion is gaining ground now, and we have elevated lines of fire. How do you expect to push forward when we're level with them?"

"Walters," Denn said, looking at the Ranger. "We have to do this. If we don't, the Legion will throw soldiers at us until they plow us into the Colorado. We need to keep Lanius' men away from the Fort."

"Why?" Walters asked. "What could we possibly gain by – "

"I have two battalions of Securitrons stationed beneath the fort," Denn said, interrupting the Ranger. "Lanius has technology capable of destroying a majority of them, but he's keeping it hidden near the frontlines incase I bring Securitrons from New Vegas. If I activate my Securitrons and his troops reinforce those at the fort, my ace in the hole is gone and Caesar will push through Oliver and take the dam. We need to bait out the weapon – need Lanius' to show his hand."

Walters stared blankly at the Courier for a moment, the prospect of more than sixteen hundred Securitrons beneath Caesar's feet impossible to wrap his head around. He turned mechanically to Veronica. The wide-eyed former scribe just shrugged noncommittally towards him. "Two battalions?" the Ranger asked quietly, "How did –"

"How doesn't matter right now," Denn said loudly, grabbing Walter's armor and pulling the man towards him. "They're there, and given free reign they will destroy the Legion army. All we have to do is keep Lanius from reinforcing – the Securitrons will do most of the hard work."

The Ranger nodded and his eyes hardened. "Alright Rangers," he shouted. "I'm sick and tired of stacking my kill count on this fodder. Time to give the Legion a fair chance – we're taking the fight to them. On the Courier's signal, drop down and move forward. Stay behind the swanky guys in the big metal jumpsuits for as long as you can. We've got one final chance at this, so let's show these rapacious-cunts a good time."

"That's my kind of pep-talk," Cass said appreciatively. Walters turned and saw the fiery redhead heft her shotgun and grin at him – more than a few shades of crazy flaring wildly in her eyes. "What say we make a competition of it?" Cass continued, raising her voice. "If any of you Rangers kill more Legion than I do in this little charge, I'll buy the lot of you a round of drinks. If I win, each one of you boys buys me a drink instead."

Ranger Walters smiled eagerly. "You heard the lady," he shouted, readying his assault rifle. "Drinks are on her!"

Cass winked at him and turned towards Veronica. The faintest shadow of a smile made its way across the former scribe's mouth before she returned to her former stoicism. Denn followed his red-haired companion's gaze and pulled Veronica to the side.

"Are you ready for this?" the Courier asked quietly, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"Sounds like this is it," Veronica said, rubbing her eyes for a moment before looking back at Denn with determination. "Yeah, I'm ready. I said it before; I'd rather be here facing the end than back in the 38 waiting for it. I'm good."

Denn nodded. "Stay close to Cass. Watch her back. Make sure she doesn't do anything too stupid."

"I heard that," Cass said loudly, chambering a round into her shotgun.

"You were meant to," the Courier replied. Giving Veronica's shoulder one last squeeze, Denn moved away to kneel at the edge of the Fortification, un-slinging his launcher from his shoulder as he did so.

"Ready," the Courier shouted – telling, not asking.

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Beneath the Fort, the Securitron army moved forward, pressing together until they were inches apart. Those closest to the heavy gates rose to attention, and the hatches on their shoulder-guards opened, revealing an array of missile launchers hidden beneath. They waited – firing solutions already prepared – for the hatchways before them to open.

Total war was a tactic Caesar's Legion had used to great effect on the tribes of the east – conquering and plundering with impunity. These Securitrons would soon teach Caesar's men the true meaning of the concept.

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I've linked a google map I created for this fanfiction on my profile. It contains minor spoilers as the places indicated are important to the story in some way or another, but I did it mostly to iron out the logistics of the world.