Chapter 40: Basic Brutality

"Hungry…" Petey moaned as Davey sniffed the air. Ronny shot a look back at her brother, curling her lip in agitation. They had just picked apart a radscorpion not two hours ago, and he was already welching. Davey finally stopped and turned to his sister.

"Humans and mutts," he explained.

"Hunting party?" Ronny asked.

Davey shook his head. "Too many and too fast. Maybe they're also after Sonny?"

"Or maybe they're also lost," Ronny complained. "This is all your fault, Petey!"

"Hungry," Petey moaned.

"How did you survive, anyway?" Ronny screamed as she picked up a clump of dirt and beaned her brother.

Petey retaliated by scooping up another, larger clump and beaning his sister, causing her to stagger. The answer to that question, of course, was that Petey was by far the strongest of his siblings, and the only one capable of matching Sonny in a straight fight. So, rather than a crippling weakness, Petey's constant hunger pangs were to be tolerated for the near future.

"…Can I just go down to look at them?" Petey asked. "Maybe just pluck off a stray dog?"

Davey leaned into Petey's face and growled. "Don't make yourself known. If you must eat, make it quick. I'm not fighting off eight humans for your mongrel stomach."

"Thanks, brother," Petey salivated as he made his way down the mountain. Ronny shot Davey a dirty look, which her brother replied apologetically. "He's been good, one dog isn't going to kick up much of a fuss."

"…At least he should prove to be a better hunter than Sonny," Ronny sniffed. "Provided he can keep a lid on his bloodthirst well enough."

"…and Lt. Baxter is the niece of someone named Cassie Moore, um, and she's supposed to be a great soldier but not so much a leader," Kyra continued to explain as the riders set up camp.

Falco jotted down everything as Drago continued questioning her. "Cassie… Cassie… Moore… Perhaps… Falco, you said that one named Moore helped administrate the Mojave during your excursions?"

"That name is familiar, aye," Falco nodded.

"Your thoughts?" Drago asked.

"…Moore was more… aggressive than her counterparts Oliver and Hsu, though I wouldn't put her on the same level as Hanlon or the Governor," Falco explained.

"Sounds like neither are such capable commanders. Of course, what else could you expect?" Drago snickered.

The Mojave Campaign was something extensively studied by the Imperial schools of war. Following the death of the First Caesar and the collapse of his deification, a more objective assessment of Legion weaknesses was taken into account. These new thoughts led many new and rising commanders to state that a more aggressive and focused offensive sooner would have broken the back of the NCR. Too much focus had been placed on prospective allies on the other side of the Colorado, and Legion combat doctrine was examined far more critically. Even so, barring few exceptions, the Bear hadn't been considered an overall worthy adversary, their flaws and failings too numerous to count, though the Legion remembered that failure to exploit these weaknesses fell unto themselves.

Overall, the Californian commanders were regarded with a sense of derision, the sole standouts being the aforementioned Hanlon and the wildcard Perez. With so many hands tied and vulnerabilities to exploit, aspiring Legion commanders oftentimes played more aggressive wargames when studying that period of history, a popular strategy involving establishing a beachhead on the other side of the Colorado and launching an offensive northwards, flanking Hoover and cutting the NCR in half by destroying their outposts. A fantasy, but a comforting one, Falco thought.

"Female Rangers sting as much as the males, Drago," Falco began. "And a woman in power armor is just as lethal as a man. You don't have to like women on the battlefield, but you best learn quickly to respect their desire to kill you, my brother."

Drago snorted as Kyra remembered another thing. "Could you stand up for me, Drago?"

Obliging, Drago stood as Kyra picked up a bush twig, where she began pointing out various joints on the body. "Speaking of power armor, my source says that the joints, particularly the knees, elbows, and armpits are especially vulnerable to damage. Something about exposed servos. My source says he learned this in the Brotherhood War."

"And how good is this information your source parted with?" Falco asked.

"He says he learned it the hard way," Kyra replied.

"Good enough," Falco replied as he continued jotting down notes.

While ancient history for most, the Brotherhood War was another internecine conflict within California that helped shape the NCR into what it was today. It was this war and the others like it that made California, if not a power that could defeat the Legion, one that the Legion itself could not overcome. For all their contempt and derision of the western armies, the Legion had long ago lost the right to take them lightly, Falco thought to himself.

Sulla and Quintas approached the group and saluted the senior centurion. "Has Barabbas told you when he would return?" Sulla asked.

"His matters are his own, leave him be," Falco waved the younger legionaries off. As the left, Kyra heard a snort. Looking to Falco, she could see him start to whisper to Drago. "Woe betides those who interrupt our dear leader's brooding time," he said as Drago snickered.

"This is something he usually does?" Kyra asked.

Falco and Drago hadn't expected her to speak outside of giving them information, but she had been so agreeable that they allowed her insolence to slide. "Your master is something of an introvert," Drago explained. "You may not have realized it, but Legatus Barabbas is actually rather taciturn." He then took Falco's notepad and began fanning Kyra, lest she go into shock over the revelation. Falco held back a giggle as Kyra suppressed an eye-roll.

"Is this all because of the girl?" Kyra asked.

"…Well, he was usually always a bit of a loner," Falco admitted. "But after Pariah's disappearance, things have just been exacerbated. I'm concerned, but…"

"…You're worried he'll beat the shit out of you if you interrupt," Kyra finished.

"Watch your mouth, girl," Drago hissed.

"Why? She's right," Falco placated his brother-in-law. "Barabbas hates being a disciplinarian, but he despises being disturbed. I've learned since that it's for the best that we wait until he is ready to return or else something pressing enough occurs to demand his return. And judging from our current situation," Falco motioned around him. "I'd say the latter isn't the case, don't you think?"

Hypatia was tending to the dogs. Uriah and Damocles were on perimeter patrol, rifles slung as they made their rounds. Quintas and Sulla were sitting by the campfire, cooking a radroach as they bickered about the finer points of spicing an insect. All was quiet in camp.

"…How long does Barabbas go on these walks?" Kyra asked.

"Could be hours," Drago shrugged.

"…You aren't worried he'll get jumped or hurt by himself?" she asked.

"No," Drago scoffed.

Falco eyed Kyra intently. "…Are you?" he asked, casually.

"…Let's just say I would be worried about my future if something happened to him," Kyra replied.

"You're worried that if he dies, we'll all line up to fuck you," Drago sneered. Kyra's heart skipped a beat as she felt sweat drip down the back of her neck. Falco shot a look at Drago to nonverbally scold him but said nothing.

"…HEY, EVERYONE!" Drago called out. "WHO STILL WANTS TO FUCK KYRA?!"

Sulla and Quintas both glanced at Kyra. They looked back to one another, then looked to Drago, both shaking their heads. Damocles covered his mouth while Uriah stroked his chin in thought for a moment before deciding on the negative. "No one wants a ghoul's sloppy seconds," Hypatia called out in response.

Kyra made a show of acting offended, but internally was relieved that the catcalling and leering had come to a complete stop. It was a relief, and she only had to go down on an irradiated living corpse. Allegedly. "However shall I endure?" she said as she bowed her head.

"If all else fails, we can still sell you to Falco's nephew," Drago replied. This time, Falco outright struck his second in command. Not a full-fledged punch, but a slap, his knuckles stinging the side of Drago's cheek as if he were a child. "Mind your tongue," Falco hissed. "And return to your duties, I've no more need for you."

Drago hastily bowed as he collected his gear and went to join Hypatia by the dogs. Falco turned to Kyra. "…I'm aware of how brazen my nephew is," he began. "And I know you've suffered a considerable deal under his… care."

Kyra remembered how Scorpio had stripped her and paraded her before his elite, taking offers from any who would be the first to volunteer to break her. It was only on the intervention of that Oracle that things didn't escalate, though she spent the next few days naked in a cage as she was taken to Dallas. Falco caught the look on her face.

"…I cannot apologize for his actions," Falco continued. "As an apology from me on his behalf would be worthless and it could not come close to the injustices you have endured under him. For him, I only hope he matures as he grows older. I, myself, was rather brash and… stupid such as he when I was his age."

"…And what made you grow out of it?" Kyra asked.

"…I was humbled. Strongly and often," Falco smiled, though his eyes told a different story. "I was a frequent raider of slaves. It was a mission I excelled at. Then we were ordered to take this rinky-dink refugee camp. I'm the only survivor of my training maniple. Those who did not fall before that night were killed by two demons. I never felt as powerless as I did then. And that was when I finally understood what I had been doing to others."

"…Imperial Dallas still trades slaves," Kyra muttered, her gaze narrowing.

"A shadow of our former practices," Falco replied. "Our old Legion would have never allowed a slave to buy their own freedom, or cut deals. Slaves are treated with a modicum of more dignity. Most of the markets consist of the families of debtors rather than captives of war. With respect to your tribe."

"Respect? Funny," Kyra growled. "You legionaries excel at justifying your atrocities."

"…We do," Falco nodded. "…We certainly do. There's a reason we all follow Barabbas. He and Scorpio do share a trait. They both dream of a world where we will no longer have to."

"And what will happen to that dream if we don't find the brat?" Kyra asked.

"…I'd rather we cross that bridge when we come to it," Falco replied.

Kyra pressed down on her knees as she rose up. "…Guess I'll have to ask him directly."

"I just told you, he doesn't like being-" Falco protested.

"I'm not afraid of the Big Bad Bull," Kyra scoffed. "If he gets upset, I'll just tell him it was your idea."

Falco wanted to reply when suddenly a realization hit him. The deal Barabbas had struck with Kyra. Upon finding Pariah, Kyra would be released from his service. Falco had seen Pariah firsthand back at the Res by the Res. He never heard the words "retrieved" when discussing the deal. Legally speaking, even if only bound by verbal contract, Kyra was a free woman. Falco pursed his lips together as he watched Kyra walk off towards Barabbas in the distance, ignoring the insults hurled at her from Hypatia and Drago. …Your call, my friend, Falco thought to himself as he drank from his canteen.

Barabbas knelt as he tried to focus his Sight onto the remains of the city, even from miles away. When he had seen the plane fly overhead and drop its payload, even he had a moment of panic. However, he knew that Pariah would not have remained in such a place during such a time. Wherever her whereabouts, and whoever that geezer was, she was somewhere safe.

It had been a nightmare playing hide and seek with her when they were younger. If Pariah didn't want to be found, it was nigh impossible to find her. Nigh impossible, because Barabbas was nothing if not stubborn, using every ounce of his Sight to see through whatever illusion she could muster against him. Still, that had been for play, and as the more… talented between them, Pariah was putting in genuine effort to conceal herself, not only from him but the world around her.

No matter. It was not something Pariah could maintain forever, not something anyone with the Gift could. She would reveal herself, Barabbas would give chase, find her, snap the neck of the geezer, and take her home.

"Ok, so what the hell are you doing, anyway?"

Barabbas's concentration was shattered by the sudden voice. Slowly turning his gaze towards her, he gave Kyra the coldest acknowledgment he could muster. Kyra crossed her arms, foot tapping impatiently. "You never seemed like someone who liked praying."

"…Why are you here?" Barabbas growled.

"That roach Sully and Quinn are boiling barely looks like it would feed both of them, let alone the group. So either you're going to get some more food or give me a rifle and I'll catch something," Kyra stated.

"You've been getting rather brazen, recently," Barabbas growled.

"You told me never to sass you in front of the men. We're alone," Kyra replied. "And you didn't want me to leave your sight, remember?"

Barabbas snorted but said nothing. He tried to regain his focus again, but with Kyra's presence in the area, he had a hard time focusing. Something about her made it hard for him to use his abilities to their fullest. He had been mulling over it for a while, and recently came to the conclusion that when she refused one of his Commands, something inside her snapped causing a psychic disruption. As someone without the Gift, she could in no way identify however her spirit had been damaged, but as a result, she was immune to Barabbas's psyker Commands. However rarely he used the ability, only two other people had been able to overpower his Sight. His sister… and Mother.

"…Why are you really here?" Barabbas asked.

"I figured you might be getting lonely," Kyra said.

Barabbas barked out a laugh. "Cute," he muttered. "If I wanted your company, I'd strip you naked and take you here."

"…Ok," Kyra hesitated. "…Do it."

Barabbas turned back to look at her. "…Excuse me?"

"Do it. Take me," Kyra continued. "What's stopping you?"

"…I'm not in the mood for this," Barabbas growled.

"Better question. What's been stopping you?" Kyra asked. "You were on top of women nightly back at Fort Wrath. I've never seen you go this long without getting any. Is something wrong?"

"…Are you asking me to force myself upon you?" Barabbas countered. "I remember when the thought terrified you. What changed?"

"…I don't know. Maybe since, after that incident with the moonshine, I know you seriously don't want to hurt me. Maybe it's because even if I can't stop you, you never forced me to… service you. And maybe it's because… deep down… you're actually a good pers-a-HAHAHAHA!" she broke down laughing. Barabbas glared at her while she tried to get her own grip. "Ah, almost said it with a straight face!" she giggled.

"I can beat you, you know," Barabbas growled.

"I know. But you won't," Kyra replied. "The only thing stopping you from hurting me is you, my master. And I doubt it's because you have something that resembles a heart under that plate-mail. So, why?"

"…I am not my father," Barabbas whispered.

"What do you mean?" Kyra asked.

"…I've never enjoyed sex," Barabbas admitted. "It's just part of my duty. Bloodlines and whatnot."

Kyra thought back to Misty and her lovely figure, to Estelle and her regal sense of poise and quiet beauty, to May Lin and her demure fragile yet graceful dignity, to Cheslie, who even Kyra had to admit was one fine piece of ass despite her personality. And none of them meant anything to Barabbas other than… work?

Barabbas watched as Kyra's jaw dropped. "…That's right. You are nothing to me but I job I don't want to do," Barabbas scoffed.

Kyra ripped the rain slicker from her body, revealing her still damaged blouse that displayed an ample amount of her bosom. "So, all this…" she indicated with her hands. "…is a chore?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Barabbas replied, dryly.

"No, I apologize, I never meant to bore you," Kyra replied, derisively.

Barabbas barked out another laugh, though this one sounded warmer. "That is one complaint I can never levy against you."

Kyra looked to Barabbas. "I am pleased I can amuse my master," she purred, sarcastically.

"…Tell me how good a lover Rathmore was?" Barabbas leaned forward.

"Why?" Kyra asked.

"Because I ordered you to," Barabbas explained. "And I want to know how a ghoul pleases a woman."

Kyra looked away as her face began to heat and her stomach threatened to erupt. "You don't want to hear it."

"Oh, but I do," Barabbas kept egging her on. "And I want to hear all the details. Considering how long you've been talking about his intel, I know you'll give me the full story," he only barely prevented himself from laughing.

"…Ok," Kyra steadily agreed. "Well, when we started…" Kyra began picturing the events in her mind as they played out, and as she began manufacturing a new story to gross out her master, the images in her mind made it to her stomach first. She held her hand in front of her mouth right as she got to the part where she had-

"I knew it," Barabbas grinned. "I knew you didn't have the guts. Literally," he cackled as Kyra stopped dry-heaving.

"…Please don't tell anyone," Kyra begged. "I like that the others are leaving me alone," she pleaded.

"…Fine," Barabbas nodded. "Your secret is safe."

Kyra betrayed something that passed for a weak smile. Barabbas was surprised by how good his mood had turned since his conversation with Kyra. Petey had extended his claws outright as he leaped airborne, bringing his half-ton body down upon the two hapless humans.

Kyra's scream alerted Barabbas to get out of the way. Sparing a moment to look back, he immediately tackled Kyra to the ground as he narrowly avoided the armor-piercing talons. Snorting, Petey let out a raging hiss as he continued his attack. Barabbas forced Kyra behind him as he braced himself for the charge, Petey slamming his head into Barabbas's chest as he tried to gore him. Catching the lizard by the horns, Barabbas dug his heels in as Petey tried to overpower the stinking mammal.

Kyra let out a cry as she stumbled away from the fight. She immediately looked back towards the direction of the camp and broke out into a sprint. She screamed for help, but as she ran she was passed by two large shapes. In disbelief, she watched as two other deathclaws began circling around her. Doubling back, Kyra returned back to Barabbas right as he drove a knee into the jaw of the fat deathclaw, driving the lizard back. As it was staggered, Barabbas made a break for his sword that he had embedded in the ground a few yards away.

Petey rolled his jaw as the armored morsel ran. He let out a hiss when suddenly he noticed another before him. Petey closed in on the smaller female, the little thing terrified as she slowly tried to back away from the predator. With a quick motion of his head, Petey knocked the female down as he began to salivate, using his foot to pin her leg to the dirt. The female braced herself as Petey reared back his claws to rend her apart. A strong blow left him reeling, knocking him off Kyra.

Kyra, readying herself for death, watched as Barabbas threw his entire body into a shoulder check that left the deathclaw staggering. Following up, Barabbas then wrapped his arm around the neck of the deathclaw and began to squeeze, using his other arm to trap the left claw at the shoulder. As the right claw began to swing wildly in an attempt to strike at the armored morsel, Barabbas dug in his feet and lifted. Davey and Ronny watched in awe as the armored cow slowly began to lift their brother off the ground. Between the blood being cut off from his brain and the fact that Petey had never lost a fight before, he had no idea how to process the fact that his feet had left the ground. Barabbas let out a screaming howl as he brought the lizard back down to the ground, slamming him as he followed up his assault by focusing entirely on the neck of the sprawled out lizard, his whole body now behind the chokehold he was putting the lizard in.

Ronny acted first. She charged at the armored cow, horns at the ready as Davey nervously watched the camp begin to rally. Barabbas, with both his hands occupied, could do nothing but brace for the impact of the deathclaw charging at him. Ronny felt something grab onto her leg, looking back at the smaller human wrapping her arms around her scaly ankle, hugging it tightly to throw off her charge.

"…Let go," the deathclaw hissed as she picked up her foot and tried to shake it off. Having braced herself for the worst, Kyra's eyes shot open as she realized what she had heard. "…What?"

"…Fuck," Ronny seethed as she outright kicked Kyra off her foot. Having witnessed what had happened, Barabbas released his stranglehold on Petey as he rushed over to his former concubine. Petey gasped for air as Ronny came over to check up on him, hacking his lungs up as he struggled to get to his feet.

"…Thought you weren't going to help," he wheezed.

"…We need to kill them," Ronny hissed. "The female heard me."

Davey let out a warning hiss. Looking back, the three deathclaws saw a pack of much larger mutts than anticipated, mounted by human warriors, charging towards them. "FUCK!" all three lizards let out simultaneously as they turned and fled.

When Kyra came to herself, she realized that a suit of heavy armor was weighing her down. Opening her eyes, she saw that Barabbas was covering her, waiting for the lizards to return and continue their assault. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the three deathclaws turn and flee as the literal cavalry pursued them. Upon realizing that the threat had passed, Barabbas pulled himself off Kyra as the two caught their breaths.

"…WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Barabbas roared. "YOU ALMOST GOT YOURSELF KILLED!"

"I was… I was trying to…" Kyra tried to get out in between quick breaths.

"YOU CAN'T DEFEND YOURSELF! I CAN! IT'S MY RESPONSIBILITY TO SEE TO IT THAT YOU ARE SAFE!" Barabbas continued to scream. "WHAT WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO AGAINST ONE OF THOSE DEATHCLAWS?!"

"…Buy time…" Kyra got out. "Buy time for you to… lift up deathclaw… lift up…" she said as her face began to flush.

Barabbas, though he could never express it, was grateful for her intervention. By throwing off the charge of that other deathclaw, she prevented him from fighting both of them by himself. Without his weapon, that would have gotten him killed. Both of them killed.

"…Are you alright?" Barabbas asked as he began to calm down.

I want to make babies with you, the animal part of Kyra's brain replied. "I'm OK," she managed to cover with.

"…I need to start eating more," Barabbas replied. "I've been cutting into my regular diet for too long. I'm missing my usual protein. I should've been able to snap that creature's neck," he muttered.

"That was incredible," Kyra breathed as the animal part of her brain demanded that her body prostrate herself before him and breed.

"…It was survival," Barabbas blew off the compliment. "I didn't know what else I could've done. I should have gotten my sword, but…" he trailed off.

"…Did you hear those things swear?" Kyra asked. Rip my clothes off and take me until morning.

"…It was pretty chaotic. Probably just some grunt we misheard," Barabbas lied, wanting to leave that stone unturned and without further explanation.

"Fair enough," Kyra replied, catching his drift. Fuck me.

"Is everything alright?" Falco asked as he rode towards them, breaking up intimacy.

"Water!" Kyra called out as she reached for Falco's canteen. Barabbas strode up to his subordinate as he handed his canteen over to Kyra. "Well?" the legate asked.

"The lizards climbed up a bluff our mounts could not follow," Falco reported. "Drago and Hypatia proposed we cut them off, but they were too fast to intercept. We shot at them with our rifles, but as far as I can tell, we only grazed them. Still, I've ordered our sentries to stay on extra alert so long as we're in the area."

Kyra splashed the water against her face, silencing her animal brain. As she collected herself, Belua came up to her, sniffing her face. "…I'm behaving," she told the dog, which somehow prompted Belua to lick her face with her massive tongue.

"Aww," Barabbas cooed. "She likes you."

Kyra glowered at Barabbas as he got atop his mount. Reaching out his hand, he pulled up his former concubine as he strolled back to camp. With Falco flanking them, they returned right as the rest of the cavalry broke off their pursuit of the three deathclaws, who were now arguing with one another about whose fault it was that the hunt went wrong.

Excerpt from the Judicial Marshal Editorial Board

Ok, serious talk. It's been over a year and forty chapters since I started writing this damn thing, and out of our roughly thirty or so recruits, only two are offering feedback on the regular. What the hell? One year and only about two of these guys regularly have opinions, give or take? What am I supposed to do to engage these people, add a coloring book? – Deputy Chief Benjamin "Gaunt" Montgomery

This again? Look, feedback isn't the be-all, end-all. The two guys don't have to regularly comment on how it's going, it's all voluntary, so can't you just accept what you get? -Deputy Chief Natalie Boone

This guide was created for engagement. How am I supposed to know that what I'm writing is resonating with these people if I don't get responses from most of them? I not asking for a response from everyone after every chapter, but how can you read forty chapters of something and not have an opinion? I can't know if the course works unless I'm told directly, and the doe-eyed, slacked-jawed lack-of-response doesn't give me much to work with going forward -Gaunt

Hey, everyone here is a volunteer. Feedback isn't mandatory, it never was! Can't you just accept what feedback you've been given and be confident with your writing? -Natty

Look, if the work isn't engaging, it's something I think I ought to be told. If I need to cut something, if I need to add something, if I need to elaborate, I can't know unless I'm told about it from the other end. Look at the Blackthorne Debacle! If that clusterfuck had the proper feedback given before anything was committed, I think a ton of aggravation could have been saved down the line, wouldn't you think? -Gaunt

The Blackthorne Debacle? Seriously? You're just being overdramatic. Besides, if these are the types of people to read forty chapters into something and can't formulate an opinion about what they are reading, are they even worth pestering for an opinion? In all likelihood, they're probably doing you a favor by not saying anything. Imagine how insipid and useless their contributions will turn out to be -Natty

Look, just tell the recruits that the more feedback I get, the less likely they end up getting fucked by a snake person. Allegedly -Gaunt