Chapter 49: Usurp and Enthrall
Falco stared across the fire, the night sky clear and dark. Flanked by Uriah and Damocles, each with their hands on their weapons, he processed with how best to relay what his intent would be. He was most assured he had a captive audience before him, and saw no reason to doubt it. With poise and confidence, he began to speak.
"…People of California, once again you find yourselves before the Legion. Make no mistake, it is not the same as that which you confronted decades ago. It is in the nature of the wasteland to change. Evolve. Were war to break out between us once more, you would not recognize that which now stands before you. On behalf of Imperial Dallas and Legate Barabbas, my name is Centurion Falco."
A moment passed in silence. "…How was that?"
Frost bristled as he looked up from the camera. "WAIT UNTIL I YELL CUT!"
"Oh, sorry," Falco replied as he returned to character, sitting stone-faced as his guard glanced at each other.
"…and cut!" Frost shut off the recorder. Uriah and Damocles began shoving each other, as the former had been subtly tickling the latter to try and get him to break on camera. Falco strolled beside Frost to check the footage. "…Is everything supposed to look so green?" Falco asked.
"When I return to Shi-Frisco, I can get this to the studio. Most film reels come out in black and white, but we've been experimenting with coloration," Frost explained.
Falco's eyes widened. "Like a moving portrait? Or one of those… comics that some of the men pretend not to read," he coughed as he looked away.
"Essentially," Frost admitted. "I have some samples I could show you, but I'd need a functional monitor or projector, and outside of a vault I wouldn't know where to look out here," he added, apologetically.
"This is a fascinating technology you bring before us," Falco praised the smaller documentarian. "I would very much like to see one of these… motion pictures, yes?"
Frost couldn't have told one that he knew what he was getting into when he agreed to shadow the AEG. He did not expect that his time and tenure there would be so dramatic on a personal level, nor that getting cooperative subjects would be so draining and frequently unproductive. He never expected that he would see himself in so much danger, and never, not even in his wildest dreams, did he expect that the most camaraderie he'd get throughout this whole debacle would be through the fucking Legion!
"Hey, hey, Cali-man, me next, me next!" A large and intimidating legionary jumped up and down enthusiastically.
"Drago, wait your turn!" Falco scolded his junior. "Sorry, they can be such children some days. Introduce a new toy and their professionalism goes out the damn window."
"I'm surprised you are all so eager to cooperate," Frost exclaimed as Drago, Sulla, and Quintas jostled against Uriah and Damocles around the campfire. "And I was thinking the Legion couldn't appreciate a good film."
"Were you not listening?" Falco snapped. "We're not the same Legion anymore."
"Yeah, yeah," Frost replied offhandedly as he readied another digital reel. Technically, he was still enslaved by the Legion, but as the personal capture by someone whom he considered the Legate's wife, he was given much more leeway than he had been prepared for initially. Now, he could kill quite a few birds with one stone. First, an unprecedented look into one of the most mysterious nations on the continent, something the NCR public had no knowledge of since the Hoover Dam battles. Second, it gave him reason after reason to ingratiate himself within the group, protecting him indefinitely until he was assuredly returned to the AEG, as promised by Mister Falco… whatever his last name was, if he had one. And third, the one he kept closest to his chest, it kept them away from the other hostage.
Kim knelt on the ground, bound and exposed. With her armor mangled past repair, she was left with nothing but her skivvies and jacket. She hadn't spoken a word since her detainment apart from her name and rank, hadn't looked at anyone or eaten or drank anything. Her mind had done nothing but play through all the horror stories she had read about the Mojave Campaign, about troopers and rangers unlucky enough to be captured by the Legion. Frost was doing his best, but eventually they'd grow bored of the camera and no doubt look for other ways to entertain themselves.
She heard footsteps approaching her. Wincing, Baxter shut her eyes and began to recite. "Baxter, Kimberly A. 1st Lieutenant. 5th Heavy Armor. 75-945721."
"Yes, I heard you the first time," Kyra said as she knelt down beside her. Kim opened her eyes to glance at one of the other women in the camp. She was clearly not a soldier, but somehow not quite a slave. Kim couldn't help but be vexed by such a presence that she could make neither heads nor tails of.
"…You should drink something," Kyra offered a draught. As she snapped the cap from the top, the odor wafted into Kim's nostrils, causing her to almost gag. "I know, I know, but just don't breathe through your nose and make sure it hits the back of your mouth first and you'll be good," Kyra pressed.
"…Baxter, Kimberly A. 1st Lieutenant. 5th Heavy-…"
Kyra took the draught, threw her head back and guzzled down the concoction. Grimacing as she finished, she repeated the offer. Reluctantly, Kim repeated the action, fighting back the urge to spit up the drink as the nozzle left her lips. She swallowed, shuddering as she looked to Kyra. "…Who are you?"
"I'm hoping I can be a friend. I know what it's like to be at their mercy, but…" she glanced back to Barabbas as he sat some distance away. Barabbas quickly averted his eyes, returning to the commotion around the campfire as Sulla and Damocles began an impromptu duel, recreating a Legionary folktale about a rivalry that lasted for decades for Frost's benefit.
"…I know things look pretty grim right now, but it could be much, much worse," Kyra tried to placate. "For starters, these guys aren't going to rape you, let's get this out of the way."
Kim looked Kyra straight in the eye, her fear now replaced by skeptical disbelief. She was half expecting Kyra to follow up with "psyche" or some other bad joke. Meanwhile, around the campfire, Damocles was reciting a litany of petty offenses while Sulla swore eternal vengeance.
"…I've been traveling with these assholes for the better part of a month," Kyra explained. "And I've fucked none of them."
"…How?" Kim asked, incredulously.
"Well, it's kind of a "one part they like me, two parts I allegedly hooked up with a ghoul, three parts my master is the cow that's been staring at you" kind of thing, but what matters is that they aren't going to try anything so long as you are under the Legate's protection, and that's what's important," Kyra explained, quickly.
"Wait, what was that middle thing-" Kim tried to ask.
"AND THAT'S WHAT'S IMPORTANT!" Kyra repeated loudly.
"…O…kay…" Kim replied. "…So, what business do you have in the area? We're pretty far out from estimated Legion turf."
"Barabbas has a personal matter he's trying to attend to," Kyra explained. "You wouldn't have, um, witnessed a little girl who's probably covering her eyes?"
Kim shook her head. "You sure?" Kyra asked once more. Kim nodded. "Right, I'll be back," Kyra replied as she stood up and headed to Barabbas. "She hasn't seen her," she announced as Quintas began pantomiming whipping both the duelists.
"That is unsurprising," Barabbas concurred as he kept watching the fire.
"…Soooooo… we're letting her go?" Kyra asked.
Barabbas turned to look at her. "…I still need her for leverage should California have any information on her whereabouts. In fact, should they have her in their possession, an exchange could be mutually beneficial. Not to mention that our prior actions could be interpreted… ungenerously."
"Damn near starting a war? That's a reasonably big oops," Kyra folded her arms. "Not one of your finer ideas."
"I'll admit, I didn't believe she was Californian at first," Barabbas admitted. "I thought she was a scout from the Midwest. The Confederacy and Dallas… haven't been on the best terms as of late," he admitted.
"The Legion excels at making friends wherever it goes," Kyra scoffed as Frost maneuvered around the brawling legionaries.
"…I shall place her under my personal protection, same as you," Barabbas added.
"Because you want to fuck her," Kyra replied.
"WHAT?!" Barabbas cried out. The legionaries paused their reenactment to look towards their commander. "…Proceed," Barabbas commanded, his composure regained. As they continued on, he glared down at Kyra. "Mind your tongue, woman."
"And mind your wandering eyes. You've been eye-fucking her since we got her out of the suit," Kyra shot back, flatly.
"I most certainly have not," Barabbas lied. "I've just… never seen a woman so… gifted," he countered.
They watched the proceedings around the campfire as Damocles and Sulla were both promoted and separated. Kyra found herself feeling her skinny arms and patting her unremarkable stomach. Even if she adopted the full Legionary lifestyle, push-ups and sit-ups and all, she probably couldn't come close to the definition of Baxter, Kimberly A's toned body. It probably came from hauling around that heavy chunk of armor for who knew how long, probably.
"You're still attractive, don't worry," Barabbas admitted.
"I wasn't-" Kyra began, flustered. "…Well, at least I know you have a type."
"I do not," Barabbas lied again, this time to himself. "But I do appreciate capable warriors. Had it not been for our numbers or my gifts, she would not be in such a loathsome predicament," he admitted.
"So cut her free," Kyra spoke up.
"When I find Pariah, I shall," Barabbas pressed.
"And in the meantime…" Kyra looked around her before continuing, "…Perhaps your appetites should be sated before you become compelled to do anything rash around her?"
"…I don't follow," Barabbas admitted. Kyra looked up to him. "You've promised that you'll protect her from the men. For that I thank you. But now I need to know that she'll be protected from you. As such, in case of such an event, I would like to propose a trade. Her for me."
Barabbas turned to his former concubine. "…Are you bribing me with your body?"
"The sooner she leaves, the better," Kyra shook her head. "Baxter doesn't belong here."
"…And you do?" Barabbas asked.
Kyra turned away, looking straight ahead. As time had gone on, she found herself thinking about freedom less and less. Truth be told, she did not expect them to find Pariah, which meant that she would belong to Barabbas for the rest of her life. However, the concept was beginning to become… bearable, the more she traveled with him. Barabbas, when left to his own devices, was more kind than cruel, loyal and dedicated in his own way, protective, and for someone under the mantle of the Legate a tolerable individual in general. She understood what the other girls meant when they said she had lucked out in her circumstances. As such, she had finally readied herself to do what she had been brought to Fort Wrath to do.
"…Well, I hope Frost won't mind an interruption to the story," Barabbas said.
Kyra thought about it and her eyes widened in shock. "Are you serious?"
"No," Barabbas laughed. "I'm joking. I promise you I'll find somewhere private and dignified when the opportunity arises."
"You're the master," Kyra conceded.
"…Yes," Barabbas replied, hesitantly, his mind arguing with itself to tell her that their arrangement had been honored. If he told her now, what would her response be? Would she leave immediately, heading out into the unknown to accept whatever fate awaited her? Perhaps it would be more prudent to tell her once they returned to Legion territory, preferably Laredo and after having received a generous allowance for her time served. After all, if it hadn't been for her, he could not even begin to imagine how much his sanity would have been frayed had he not had Kyra grounding him. Not bad for a girl who nearly passed out the first time she saw him. That was the crux of the whole issue, honestly. He didn't want to let her go.
Kim watched as the two deliberately avoided eye contact with one another. There was a lot to this story she wasn't privy to, but it seemed like Kyra had been honest with her. How fortunate was she that wound up with the first Legion soldiers in recorded history with humanity. They hadn't even tortured Frost, a notion that honestly surprised her more than anything. Right now, the older legionary was being pestered by Frost and some of the younger legionaries to elaborate about the aforementioned folktale, something that seemed to embarrass the older soldier as he pantomimed punching himself in the face. Then she realized another figure was squatting beside her.
The lanky female bore her gaze into Kim, making the captive extra uncomfortable. Kim decided against reciting her identification and turned to her interloper. "…Is there anything I can help you with?"
Hypatia snickered. "Big sow like you on her knees asking to help? Funny. No, I'm just here for a trophy."
Kim glared at the Amazon. "…Maybe you should have asked when your friends tore my armor apart and left it on the sand."
"I'm not after metal. That's a nice jacket you're wearing. Never seen one like it," Hypatia assessed as her eyes wandered over Kim's body.
"…Well, I'd love to let you examine it closer, but my hands are tied," Kim remarked, her hands bound behind her.
"Good thing I brought a work around," Hypatia replied as she pulled out her knife.
Frost had turned to look just in time to see Kim struggling against the female legionary. "Ma'am… excuse me… MA'AM… HEY!" he called out before he was intercepted by Quintas and Uriah. "Let me go!" Frost tried to push through them. "That's my friend!"
"And that's one of the Oracle's Chosen," Uriah countered. "She's someone who can take your life at her own behest."
"Then one of you guys stop her, please!" Frost begged.
Falco sighed as he made to approach the sorry scene, but someone had beaten him there.
"She's under our protection, Hypatia," Kyra announced. "Leave her be."
"I'm just after the jacket, girl. Standard procedure with captures, they have no property. We let your new pet keep his gadgets, but the clothes on this ones back are a privilege. Besides, I always wanted a war trophy from California," Hypatia sneered as she cut into the sleeves of Kim's jacket.
"I said quit it!" Kyra pressed forward, grabbing Hypatia by the shoulder and trying to yank her off.
"I don't take orders from you!" Hypatia snapped. "What is this? You lay with one corpse and suddenly you think you are a peer of mine? Little girl, you are nothing but a pampered little uppity tribal who trots after Barabbas like the stray bitch you are. You are not one of us. You will never be one of us. And you don't tell me what I can and cannot do. Now stand aside, you putrid slut!"
"I SAID NO!" Kyra screamed as she wrenched Hypatia off of Kim. Hypatia, once she regained her footing, spat out a vicious string of curses, punctuated by the sudden backhanding of Kyra across her face. The shock and sting caused Kyra's mind to blank for an instant. The burning cheek brought her back to earth right as a massive frame rushed past her and belted Hypatia so hard in the stomach that she was knocked back a good three or four yards. Hypatia hacked up her noontime meal and some blood right as the figure punted her in the ribs, bowling her over. "…Bar…*hack*…Lega-"
Barabbas all but mounted her, reeling his fist back and clocking her across the face. Something rattled onto the ground. Howling in pain, Hypatia immediately covered her face in her arms as Barabbas prepared to pummel the woman into the very dirt when something grabbed his arm and forced it in place.
"STOP IT!" Kyra shrieked as she put all her weight into stopping Barabbas. The Legate, his anger not subsided, climbed off Hypatia as she wheezed and spat up blood. It was a testament to her training that she was even conscious after taking blows that had killed lesser warriors. Restraint hadn't been on Barabbas's mind. He could feel the gentle but firm pull ushering him up as Kyra entered his line of sight, the fresh bruise still on her cheek. "I'm OK, Barabbas, I'm not hurt. Just… let it go and leave her be."
Barabbas put his hands on Kyra's shoulders and gently pushed her aside. "…THE ONLY REASON YOU STILL DRAW BREATH IS BECAUSE YOU ARE ONE OF THE ORACLE'S CHOSEN!" he screamed at the downed and writhing body of Hypatia. "THOUGH YOUR CONDUCT IS UNBECOMING OF SUCH A TITLE, IT IS ONLY THROUGH KYRA'S MERCY THAT YOU WILL BE PERMITTED FURTHER FORGIVENESS! DO NOT SQUANDER THIS LENIENCE, IT WILL NOT BE OFFERED TO YOU AGAIN!"
Kyra pulled on Barabbas's arm and slowly led him away from the wounded Amazon. Looking back, she realized that what she had thought were white pebbles mingling with the sand were actually a half dozen of Hypatia's teeth. Kyra then sat Barabbas down in his area, listening to him breathe as he tried to calm himself. She then took it upon himself to swing around in front of him, taking up his line of sight and waiting for him to steady himself.
"…I'm OK," Kyra repeated. "…Are you?"
A large hand held onto her cheek, stroking it gently. "…I will be," Barabbas rasped. "…I should have beaten her to death."
"She's not worth it," Kyra shook her head. "She's just… she's doing this because it's what she was taught. There's no point in getting mad at an angry dog that does exactly what she was trained to do. You said she was chosen by the Oracle? Your mother, right?"
Barabbas nodded, dreading what she would say next.
"Chosen for what?"
"…Honor guard for herself. Trains the other women. Enacts punishments. Makes them in the image the Oracle desires," Barabbas admitted. "…Like you said, as she's been taught."
Falco and Drago both took Hypatia by the arms and dragged her closer to the campfire. Quintas, having the most medical training, pulled down her hands and looked at her damaged mouth. "…Jaw isn't broken," he said. "Small miracle. And it doesn't seem like she swallowed any teeth."
"Drink," Hypatia whispered.
Quintas pulled out a wineskin of Cloud Milk, a soothing concoction that was the most effective painkiller the Legion had developed in Texas. A mixture of wine, fermented Gila poison, and some medicinal plants for preservation and stability. Hypatia began downing it.
"…I take it now isn't a good time to report on your scouting mission," Falco wryly asked.
Hypatia snapped the nozzle away from her mouth, waiting for the numbing to begin. "…I found a mining town five miles north of here. It's abandoned, and most of it burnt to a crisp, but with that sandstorm coming, there's more than enough shelter," she relayed before sticking her fingers inside her mouth and fishing out tooth number seven. The pain wasn't the worst thing she was feeling. Neither was the humiliation from such a public dressing down. No. The worst part was that Kyra intervened and saved her life.
She then realized that the little weasel was recording her with his camera. She flung her tooth at him, covering her face afterwards. As much as Frost wanted to keep recording this for posterity, he handed the camera to Sulla, told him not to touch any buttons, and rushed over to Kim. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Kim admitted. "And glad I'm not her," she motioned with her head towards Hypatia.
"Sorry, I tried to get here sooner," Frost apologized.
"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm the bodyguard, remember," Kim smiled.
"LISTEN UP!" Falco bellowed. "We have a storm coming our way. A bad one. Hypatia has located a small town that can shelter us for the duration. After that, we may resume the search."
"…Less than a week to go," Barabbas muttered to himself, with Kyra only just picking up on it.
"…I'll stay. If we don't find her, I'll stay," Kyra replied.
"And may we both hope it does not come to that," Barabbas sighed.
"…If it takes any longer, if you change your mind about returning home and you decide to keep going… I'll stay," Kyra repeated.
Falco strolled up to Barabbas, relaying Hypatia's report, carefully avoiding using her name. Grateful for the distraction, Barabbas stood and barked out orders. "EVERYONE MOUNT UP! WE GO NORTH AND TAKE SHELTER! WHEN THE STORM PASSES, WE MOVE OUT!"
Some distance away, Carla watched through her binoculars as the two hostages were taken and mounted on the backs of the dogs. Cursing her predicament, she once again radioed her brother. This was more than a two man job, and unless some extra volunteers appeared out of the ether, it was the best she could hope for.
Caesar Lanius sat alone on his throne and watched as Consul Scorpio entered the chamber unannounced. Right before Lanius was to retire for the night, as it stood, further aggravating his mood. "Some may find your insolence endearing, Scorpio, but I do not," Lanius growled.
Scorpio bowed slightly, far shallower than was expected to be formal. "The night grows late, and the guard grows tired. You've… led us these last twenty years. In such a manner that would almost be considered admirable, Great Caesar."
"What favor would you ask of me? Speak quickly or be off with you," Lanius disregarded the empty flattery, his hand resting on the handle of his blade next to his seat.
"…I've come with terms," Scorpio smiled.
Lanius leaned forward. "…These are dangerous waters you swim in, boy. Tread carefully."
"My first term is that my tenure as Consul is extended, indefinitely," Scorpio began. "My next is that the imperial succession replaces that of your mutant children with that of myself. Fort Wrath and all who dwell within it fall under my jurisdiction indefinitely. And finally, I want that chair you're sitting on," Scorpio announced as he pointed his halberd at the throne.
Barabbas fell silent as he listened to the faint screams and cries outside the throne room. "…I see you've already begun to change the guards," Lanius laughed, mirthlessly.
"Your Praetorians are valiant but foolish. They will fall and my men will come to my aid."
"And when I kill you, I can hunt your dogs down at my leisure," Lanius said as he rose from his throne and drew his weapon.
Scorpio saluted Lanius. "And so, the New Legion rises to fight the Real Legion."
Lanius didn't bother with the pleasantries, launching himself and lashing out against Scorpio. The duel had begun.
Sybil sat on the bed and probed the wasteland. She had learned to disassociate her sense of self and look for beacons that drew her interest. When she was younger, before she had Barabbas, such an ability was unfathomable, and in previous years it had been unrefined. Now, however, she felt she had begun to master it. While a worldwide application was still rather unfathomable at this point in time, she had a good multi-state radius for effective use. As it stood, she could see the three beacons in the west.
The faintest, the most familiar, was distraught yet comforted. She prayed to the Master himself that he would see sense and return, give her that grandchild she'd been waiting for after all these years. Right behind him was the damaged one. The one she hand-selected from the spoils of Scorpio, the one with potential that interested her. Now, however, that promising light had been damaged, like a pulled muscle that might never heal. Still, the potential for humanity's future might still be found in her womb, provided her son remember his duty and advance the species like a good boy.
Next was the other one. The brighter one. The less refined, more… sensitive light. She traveled with trusted strangers. Auras she could remember. Others she did not. It appeared that her true daughters had found her squandered one. Lovely. Perhaps, in the event she returned, she would take to her training more diligently, rather than whine about the pain inflicted on their lessers. Empathy was poison, and one day she would learn that. And if it was too much to ask, then she could just leave again and spare everyone else the trouble.
Finally, the strange light. The foreign one. The preacher man. He traveled with a group of his own. She smiled, as abilities like hers made it easy for those to develop their own followings. Even he would have to appreciate the gifts his abilities bestowed upon him. Oh, sorry, blessings, she thought with a sense of derision.
May I help you?
Sybil was almost shaken out of her trance. Words. A voice. A reply.
Preacher man?
I have a name, Sybil. It's Joseph.
Sybil couldn't help but be impressed. This man was a savant with the Sight, itself. He saw her presence and had readied himself for her arrival. Perhaps it had been a mistake contacting him previously?
Why have you chosen to reach out to me, again?
I couldn't help but notice that you are converging on two other beacons.
Is that what you call them?
I would ask a favor of you, if I may?
She heard no reply. Silence, true silence, wasn't something that often came with the Sight. Whatever he lacked in power, he more than made up for with discipline. If only Sybil had met him earlier.
Two beacons will appear to cross one another in the near future. I would task you to ensure that does not happen. Let the fainter one return, and do with the brighter what you will.
I have met them before.
You have?
I almost extinguished the fainter one.
Rage bubbled in her stomach. Physically, only the greatest warriors could stand a chance against her son, if that. But his gifts with the Sight were still underdeveloped. The Preacher man, had he engaged her son on that field of battle, would overwhelm her son easily and with little issue.
Try it again, and I will show you what the Sight is really capable of, parson!
I told you, my name is Joseph.
Shut up. If you keep those two away, I shall reveal where your prize is hidden.
How amiable. Tell me, what is Lanius's interest in Rosa, anyway? Now that we can finally have a civil discussion and whatnot.
Sybil prepared to answer when she heard faint screams coming outside the door. Her nose smelt burnt ozone and try as she might she could not locate the disturbance.
Talk to you later, parson.
I told you, my name is-
She grabbed a machete beside her as she crept to the doorway. Things were quiet outside the hall, save for a strange abrupt series of noises. Sybil pressed her ear against the doorway, listening intently. A metal claw burst through the heavy wood and grabbed her by the face, dragging her through and throwing her against the wall of the corridor.
Scorpio finessed his way around the heavy blows of Lanius. This was what he lived for. More than burning savages. More than plowing a waiting bitch. More than whatever fortune Abacus had promised him, this was what made his life worth living. Pure combat, a duel between two fighters who would only relent in death. Where the first fight was the last. It was everything he could possibly want.
Lanius had spent more time on the throne than the battlefield as of late, but as the old adage went, "when warriors grow old, they grow slower and tire faster, but power was the last to leave."Scorpio had parried a few strikes with his halberd, and he could feel the force rattle through his body. Lanius rushed him, forcing Scorpio to dive aside to counter, tagging Lanius in the side. The halberd drew blood, but Lanius did not register the wound.
To aid him, Scorpio did not come into this fight as a duelist, but rather as a hunter. Lanius was an animal, a powerful one but predictable. He would spend this fight looking for an opening that Scorpio would not give him. Two Praetorians entered the throne room, their gauntlets stained in the blood of Scorpio's fellow usurpers.
"And here I thought you of all people would value a fair fight," Scorpio spat.
"You don't have any honor, Oklahomus," Lanius grimly laughed.
"I suppose not," Scorpio admitted. "Assaultrons! Engage these interlopers!"
Exiting stealth, two cyclopean machines flanked the Praetorians and began attacking them. Valiance aside, the flesh and mettle of the warriors was little match for the calculating steel of the robots. One pummeled its victim into the ground while the other blocked a blow from the human warrior. Ignoring its damaged arm, it instead charged up its ocular beam and seared into the face of the Praetorian.
Lanius let out a howl of anger as he charged once more, swinging widely. Scorpio barreled away only to find that he wasn't the intended target. The blade embedded itself into the unprotected torso of one of the robots while Lanius grabbed the head of the other in his hands, tearing and wrenching its head from its shoulders as sparks and fluid sprayed everywhere.
Caesar Lanius wasn't remotely surprised when he felt the blade of Scorpio pierce through his back. Rather he was more disappointed that Scorpio wouldn't further humor him in making this something resembling honorable. An angry young upstart who followed the rules out of convenience rather than principle. Scorpio had no secrets he could keep from Lanius.
Reaching behind him, he grabbed the weapon by the staff and pried it from his body, his single arm matching both of Scorpio's. As expected, the moment things became a pitched battle, the mad dog found himself trapped and scared. Forcing the blade from his back, Lanius wheeled around and slug Scorpio in his helmet. He felt himself burn as he readied himself to beat this treacherous vermin to his death.
Metal claws wrapped around Sybil's throat as she fruitlessly swung at the metal frame. This mechanical creature was made of an alloy harder than most Legion steel, and it would sooner chip her blade to dust than allow her to breach the casing of the machine. Not that it would matter much, as Sybil's neck would give out the soonest.
As the blood was cut from her brain, she had to take a moment to admire the simplicity of Scorpio's solution. Her abilities came with such an obvious weakness in hindsight. Those born of inorganic nature were immune to the Sight, neither gifted nor hindered by it. Insolent, but clever. She would almost hate to kill him when she got out of this. If she did, she corrected herself as blood dribbled down her chin.
The merciless red light bore into the woman in its clutches. Normal procedure indicated that it dispatch its target in the most optimal manner possible. However, it had been directed to delay its target's termination for a certain amount of time. The exact variables were not elaborated to the machine, so it was left to ponder how long on its own. As those who tinkered with artificial intelligence would tell you, this is a dangerous precedent, as even the smartest machines could make errors even the dumbest brains could avoid. Speaking of…
A shrill whistle stole the assaultron's attention. As it turned to monitor the new disturbance, several lead slugs impacted with its ocular monitor, breaking through to the internal processer and effectively killing the machine. Sybil was left to gasp and choke out heaving, grateful breaths as her rescuer knelt beside her.
"Ma'am," Dan tipped his hat.
"My…my mysterious stranger," Sybil almost laughed.
"Oh, come now, we know each other longer than that," Dan replied as he lifted Sybil to her feet. The Oracle then realized that the Guard Captain was bandaged around his arms and ribs.
"Pshaw," Dan dismissed what he considered concern. "Crassus and Puzon said they had something to show me earlier. Turns out it was their blades, which didn't impress me none. Would've been here sooner if it weren't for them, but at least we don't got to worry bout those two no more. Course, there are a lot more of their folk than I was expecting," he relayed.
"Well, good thing I did expect something," the Oracle stated as she rubbed her throat. "I had my girls arrive earlier and evacuated all essential staff from the premises. My son's women should be halfway to Laredo, now."
"Oh, so that's why I haven't seen any of the girls!" Dan smacked his forehead. "And most of my other guards, I guess. Huh, all essential staff, then? How come I wasn't told?"
Sybil had honestly expected Dan to have been tortured and killed during the takeover, the 4th Legion's notorious hatred for the Guard Captain giving her the necessary amount of time to flee. "…Perhaps the runner was intercepted before they could get to you," Sybil lied.
"Fair enough!" Dan grinned. "So, want me to get the boys together and head off to Dallas?"
"Why?" Sybil asked. "It's already too late."
Some considered Scorpio immoral. Others called him a coward, a disreputable thug with an army in gold livery. Never to his face, of course. Only Barabbas had the gall for that. No, what his critics didn't understand was that it wasn't fear of death that dictated his actions. It was pragmatism. Frumentarii-styled pragmatism, whether that be in the form of razing civilian settlements to force a peace deal, blackmailing rivals to ensure their political support, or coating his blade in the most potent poisons he could get his hands on. Poison that was now in the veins of Caesar Lanius and was now further coursing through his blood as his adrenaline hastened his end. Still, Scorpio was a pragmatic individual at heart.
Lanius felt his blood boil and his sweat trickle under his armor. Through the haze, he saw his tribe put to the sword, his own. He saw Denver burn and Fort Abandon break. He saw the Malpais Legate punished for his failure, the flames cascading down the canyon like a falling star. And he saw his own, watching as men and machine alike scattered his forces above and below the dam, himself confronted by the one man he regretted never having fought directly. He saw the Oracle and that which she brought. A future and a son, no, two children of his own. He would see the world as she did, with clarity. Caesar's dream would outlast the man himself, and now it would outlast him.
Scorpio drew out his knife and dug it under Lanius's mask, right into the neck. Lanius had wrapped his hands around Scorpio's neck and was unable to block it as the blade was guided into his throat. Scorpio could only watch the light leave Lanius's eye as his grip slowly began to loosen. "…Caesar is dead," Scorpio whispered to Lanius. "Long live Caesar."
The giant of a man collapsed onto the floor as Scorpio fell to his knees, the adrenaline finally leaving his body. It wasn't long until his men began filing into the throne room, victors of their conquest. No, their liberation. Lanius had been less a leader than he was a pet to the Oracle and her mutant spawn. Now the Legion would return to that which made it, under the vision of the First Caesar, the Great Liberator who saved humanity from itself. And Scorpio Oklahomus would be his first and greatest disciple.
Scorpio sat atop the throne to relax his body; the symbolism lost upon him as he demanded his commanders report to him about the seizure of the Imperial Palace. Tyrus informed him that the Praetorian Guard on-site had successfully been defeated, its other members guarding the Senate chambers or various other officials. This maneuver eliminated a significant amount of Lanius's loyalists, freeing up their occupation of the Imperial Palace.
Those men in the room were given their cover stories. The Oracle had launched a coup that left many men dead, including that of Caesar. Enraged by this treachery, Scorpio had taken it upon himself to arrest the woman, who by now was either dead or out of Fort Wrath. This plot, as it unfolded, would be initiated by the Legios Amazonia, who Scorpio would beg the Senate during its emergency session to outlaw and hunt down all known members. And as for Barabbas, whenever or if he ever returned? It would be after summoning a foreign army of Californians, a man who would use foreign influence to rob the Legion of its destiny for his own gain. Scorpio had spent a long time figuring out how to discredit the mutants.
Most would see the story as it was, a justification for Scorpio to secure power for himself and eliminate his most potent rivals. However, the purpose of the casus belli was to justify the conflict in the eyes of his supporters, many of whom shared his sentiments regarding Legate Barabbas and the Oracle. For too long, many had believed her divinity to be a ruse of unnatural Old World abilities, and that Imperial Dallas would do well to dismiss such malicious entities. And by being able to scare away the woman with instruments that could actually confound and disempower her, such as the nullifier he wore atop his head and the assaultrons that would seek out and destroy her should she return to challenge Scorpio himself.
By morning's light, he would discover that his detachment to Fort Wrath was beset upon and routed by members of the Legios Amazonia. Unfortunate for her men, but precisely what Scorpio needed to sell the narrative of the traitorous bitches. Sybil was nowhere to be found, but so long as Scorpio wore his crown, it would matter little. However, when they did find her, he would have to bring forth overwhelming force to subdue her, lest she turn the men against one another or worse locate the Titan. These things were not Scorpio's preeminent concern, as he needed to rehearse his speech to the Senate regarding the death of Caesar. The people of Dallas were going to need a hero, after all, and the role was one Scorpio was fully prepared to perform.