Good Morning!
Hello everyone, my name is Gatekeeper. I've had this little idea bumping into the back of my brain for a bit now, so I decided to turn it loose and see where it went.
If you are interested I have a small series called Chance Encounters and Where They Lead and some other stories so if you enjoy this one I'm sure you'll like some of the others.
In addition much like my others stories I promise no regular updates but I do intend to work on each one to the best of my ability.
For in game purposes these two are of course OC's with occasional run-ins with other characters including the Courier. I plan on having some other New Vegas stories that will be set in the same game universe.
Hope you enjoy!
Sincerely,
Gatekeeper
EDIT: fixed the words so you can actually read lol
War, War never changes.
The strategies of War change, the tools it uses change, nations who bow to it change, the excuses made for it change. Lines are redone, battlefields created and forgotten, heroes rise and fall.
But War? War never changes.
Wealth, Land, Power and Principal; the reasons for War never change either.
Where our ancestors fought with man-made lightning and hellish energy, with armored titans that shook the earth and vertibirds that brought down hails of lead and fury we follow with spears and rusting guns.
Oh yes, War never changes.
And so it is now, two hundred years after our ancestors started their last war, we have ours. Out here in the Mojave wasteland, the NCR fights the Legion over a barren desert and ancient relics of a dead age.
And just like in every war before it, there's a thousand little tales in between it all.
This is one of those stories.
He could barely feel anything, but he kept on walking. He had to. He was ordered to.
"That's what a legionnaire is, Argus." The old man had said. "Unrelenting, unstoppable. Trust your training, but rely on your instincts and you'll thrive." He looked at the nervous initiate and smiled. "Do that, and I think Mars himself will make you something the Legion has never seen."
Pain lanced through his side, where cracked ribs were digging through his flesh. He marched on, gritting his teeth.
Helooked down at the... burden in his arms. A girl who was dressed in an NCR uniform.
He tried to hold back a growl as her weight shifted against his, pressing on his bad side momentarily.
His training said to kill her. Leave her throat slit open and ready for the geckos. Get rid of the trash and get back to Legion territory to beg for forgiveness for running from a fight.
He was on the ground, hissing in pain as he felt his ribs crack. He didn't expect the trooper to have hand-to-hand skills, and now he paid the price. The man did a quick battle survey before pulling out a pistol and aiming it at Argus' head.
You have your orders, and so do I kid. I get that. But orders don't stop Deathclaws, guns do. So promise me, if I let you go, you take Bell and run. I'll be able to stop them long enough for you guys to escape. A life for a life, isn't that what you Legion guys do? So here it is; I give you your life, and you take care of the girl till she's in safety. Promise?
The gun rustled a little as the NCR Sargeant moved his other arm to extend his hand to the prone form of Argus, just far enough that a grab attempt would end in death rather than struggle.
"... I promise, on my head let it be."
But his instinct said to go faster, and so he did. His orders were to get the girl to safety, and so he tried.
He stumbled over a rock, his muscles straining to balance both him and the load he carried. He couldn't go much farther, but he'd be damned if he just lay down now.
"Get up! GET! UP! Did I tell YOU to STOP? NO I DID FUCKING NOT! YOU WANT TO BE A LEGIONNAIRE?"
"YES, SIR!"
""THEN YOU WILL KEEP ON RUNNING TILL YOU ARE ONE! REMEMBER THIS, MAGGOTS: WE ARE CAESAR'S LEGION. WE RUN TOGETHER, FIGHT TOGETHER AND WE ARE TOGETHER. WE CANNOT FAIL! IS THAT CLEAR?"
"YES, SIR!"
""GOOD, NOW TEN MORE LAPS."
He started chanting under his breath the mantra he had to memorize, using it to numb his mind from the pain. Lifting himself straight, he began to march.
"Legio ego sum unus. Legio est non cadere. Ego sum, unus ex Caesaris. Caesar non. Non possum ego Legio cadunt. Non possum ego ad Caesarem deficient. Pro Victoria!"
He matched his footsteps to the unheard rhythm of the chant, and marched on.
It seemed like forever until he found a road, and longer still until he saw the gas station ahead. Night was beginning to fall and the chill soothed his burning muscles, but not enough.
He reached the edge of the gas station when he tripped again, this time unable to catch himself. He turned and unconsciously pulled the girl closer, protecting her from impact. They crashed to the ground and Argus caught himself from letting out a cry of pain. As his sight started to darken he pulled a nearby sleeping bag towards him and unfurled it, pulling it over both of them. The girl stirred and edged closer, but Argus felt the pull of sleep too strongly to feel awkward about the arrangement. He fell asleep, completely unaware of anything around him.
Sitting in a nearby chair, with the remainder of a squirrel on a stick in his hand, an old man gawked at them.
He stared at the bottle in his hand, shook his head and put it down, before he pulled out his gun and rummaged for a doctor's bag. He walked slowly up to the couple and stared at them before chuckling softly to himself.
"Well" he said, a sigh escaping him before he continued, "that's the first time someone's stolen my sleeping bag from right in front of me."
The line that Argus says roughly translates from Latin as "I am of the Legion. The Legion cannot fall. I am of Caesar. Caesar cannot fall. I cannot fall for I am Legion. I cannot fall for I am Caesar. To Victory!"