Chapter 96: Kiss Me Goodbye

As the troopers, clanners, and Amazons alternated between trying to rest and digging entrenchments, Kyra strolled through the camp, her face and demeanor calm despite the tears in her eyes. Word had gotten back from the rest of the teams that had gone out to support the ill-fated 66th, and the tragic if inevitable conclusion. From the distance, they could see the glow of the pyre that the battered cohorts used to cleanse the field of corpses, both of their own and those of their mutated enemies. She thought back to something Rathmore had told her during that night together in the Res-by-the-Res. About how, after several lifetimes of segregated status, the only people he knew he could count on to treat him as an equal were his enemies. She wiped a tear from her eyes as she walked through the camp.

Damocles, Sulla, and Quintas all stopped their conversation as she passed, not uttering a word but nodding. Kyra nodded in return as she kept on. Passing through, she could see Marcy, sitting cross-legged and staring into space. As she was locked into her trance-like state, Dinero kept around her and fretted over her like a grandfather. Kyra kept on her path as she passed by Jimmy Bishop and Taylor Hutsgy. From what she could make out, Jimmy was outlining a job offer for the talented quartermaster back in Vegas. She smiled as she listened, even if it was completely obvious to the both of them that they were merely entertaining a fantasy.

Finally, she made it to the tent. His tent. Wiping her eyes, she gathered herself as she pulled back the flap and entered. He sat there, his back turned to her as he leaned on his sword, the dressing on his wound still tender as his armor lay sprawled throughout the ground. Kyra closed the flap behind her, standing back a ways as she looked at his back as it heaved with every breath. She began to approach, holding out a hand to try and comfort him.

"Don't touch me," Barabbas stated. "And don't say a word."

Kyra was confused. Had she done something to upset him? As she raked her brain for an explanation, it came from Barabbas himself.

"…If I see you, if I hear your voice, if I feel the touch of your skin, I will break. The only thing I want to do is take you and my sister and flee this damnable killing field forever. And I can't. There's too much riding on this for what I… what we want. So as much as I want to lay with you, Falco would never forgive me for doing so on the eve of battle."

Kyra drew her hand back. She wanted to say she understood, but she held her tongue as she remembered what Barabbas had said. Folding her hands before her, she merely nodded behind him and went to take her leave.

"There is one thing I need you to do," Barabbas said before she left. "Take my sister and get her as far away as possible. She's empathic, too empathic. With the amount of slaughter that will take place on the morrow, she will feel all of it, so I need you to spare her as much of it as possible. Don't let her argue with you, take the old man if you have to, just put as much distance between her and this as you can. You can have Belua to make your journey easier, and you know how to feed and care for her."

Kyra smiled. Belua could feed and care for herself. Then she realized what had happened. Barabbas was entrusting Kyra with everything he valued. His sister, his mount… and herself. That which made Barabbas that happiest was that which he was sending away. In doing so, he would force himself to commit to whatever awaited him tomorrow.

"…Take her to Phoenix," Barabbas said. "Take her there and await further news. Take her to Vegas, damn, take her to California for all I care if we end up…" Barabbas caught his words in his throat. "…I know I promised you more. I owe you so much more and have no right to ask you for one more favor. Just… if I meant anything to you, if you feel anything for me, just promise me that you'll look after her. Forget me if you have to, just look after her an-" his words died in his lips as he felt some gentle fingers take his chin, turn his head, and felt soft lips press against his. As the tender kiss broke, Barabbas turned away and leaned forward, holding his emotions in.

"…I just told you not to TOUCH-" he said as opened his eyes and whipped his head around to see the tent flap close as she left. He clutched the wound in his side, the paltry thing dwarfed by the tempest within his mind.

Kyra grabbed Belua by the reins as she led the hound through the camp. She had tasked Dinero with rousing Marcy from her trance and bringing her to the rim of the camp. Throwing the saddle across Belua's flank, she stroked the hound's snout as she looked over the rest of the camp.

"Miss Kyra! Miss Kyra!" Kyra turned to see Tim Frost approaching her as he carried what looked like everything he had brought with him on the trek. She grimaced as he approached, already anticipating where this conversation was going to go.

"You're leaving?" Frost asked as he came to a halt, catching his breath from the sprint.

"…Barabbas has asked me to take his sister to safety," Kyra replied.

"…You're going west?" Frost asked. "Where?"

"…Barabbas said Phoenix and then… to wait for further news," she answered.

"…Well, if you're taking requests," Dinero slipped a knapsack from around him and held it to her. "This bag has everything I've recorded and saved throughout my time with the AEG. When you get out west, please make sure it gets to Senator Ziyi, she'll know what to do with it."

Kyra took the satchel and placed it with the rest of Belua's saddlebags. "…Oh, for a second I was worried you were going to ask to come with…" Kyra admitted.

"…I can't," Frost shook his head. "The story is here, and I have to record it. I'd never forgive myself for leaving just when things started to get interesting."

"But, you're not a soldier," Kyra replied, confused.

"I'm not. Doesn't change anything. I'm staying, but if I lose all my work, it'll all be for nothing. So, if you have to go, please take that with you," Frost answered with a smile.

"Oh, uh, alright Frost, if it means that much to you," Kyra replied as she fastened the bag.

"Thank you, Master Kyra. A slave couldn't have asked for a better owner," Frost smiled.

Kyra bristled. "Please don't."

Sergeant Dodger of the 32nd saw what was transpiring and took her own chance. "You're leaving?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, but I can't take too many…"

"Can you get this letter to my folks back home?" the sergeant held out a letter in her hand. "Just get it to Vegas and the liaison office should take care of the rest."

As soon as the words were said, soldiers and clanners nearby heard of what was going on. Word spread through the camp like wildfire. Mail run. Troopers, marshals, and clanners all began to swarm around the hound and its rider, bombarding her with requests to get their letters to the west and buying time for others to quickly find some paper of their own. Soon enough, Kyra found herself carrying packages of letters, souvenirs, last wills, photos, and trophies from the expedition. As the saddle bags filled up, Dinero made his approach, holding Marcy by the hand as she groggily tried to navigate in her torpid state, her nose bleeding excessively as she mumbled things that sounded like "too many damn Mormons" and "never doing that again."

Dinero stopped as he saw the back of the mount fill up with things these soldiers and clanners cherished and wanted to make sure got back to their loved ones. Kyra was looking overwhelmed by how many people wanted to make sure that their letters and gifts did not get forgotten. Dinero thought, wondering if there was anything he had that he cherished enough to release. He looked down at the young girl who had been traveling so many miles with him. The last person in the world who cared about him. Probably the only one.

As Kyra accepted the very last hastily scribbled pieces of "mail" into the burlap sack resting behind her on the saddle, she looked out with relief as she saw Dinero and Marcy approach. That relief turned to dread as she felt the weight pressing against her back, knowing that even Belua could only carry so much. She looked out apologetically to the soldiers and clanners as she tried to find the words to explain that there was too much weight and she couldn't carry everything when Dinero approached her, hoisting Marcy into her arms.

"…Dinero, Barabbas said that if Marcy wanted, I could-" Kyra started.

"Save it," Dinero shook his head. "I spent long enough in the wilderness, I'm in no hurry to go back."

Marcy, starting to shake off some of her stupor, looked to Dinero in a state of panic. Dinero, what are you doing?! You're staying here? You're not a fighter! I had to drag your ass all the way to the west and now you're just going to throw it all away! I don't want to leave you behind, Dinero, I care about you! Please don't go!

"Big Brother says you aren't staying, and he's Caesar so his word is final," Dinero stated firmly, his hands folded before him as he brokered no argument from the silent child.

NO! You can't leave me! You're my friend! If you stay here, I'll never see you again! Please!

"I assure you, Kyra is better company than I am," Dinero responded, and more than a few troopers, marshals, and clanners nodded in agreement. "Now be good for her and keep yourself safe. Remember, I didn't feed you out of the goodness of my heart to have you die in the desert.

Tears began to well up in Marcy's eyes.

"Hey, no crying!" Dinero scolded. "Bosses don't cry! Or at least shouldn't be seen crying. Not in front of the help!" he said as the soldiers and clanners began turning towards him, their hostility evident.

"…Fortunately, I've got the solution!" he proudly announced as he fished into his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. "Just like the ones you lost in the mines," he stated as he fixed them over Marcy's eyes. "There, now you look like a real boss!"

Marcy flung her arms around Dinero's neck, holding onto him as she sniffled. "…There, there, kiddo. I know one day you'll grow up to be a dashing heartbreaker just like yours truly. Now just be good for your auntie Kyra and don't worry, I'll protect your brother."

In what seemed like an instant, Marcy's pitiable sobs began turning into giggles. Dinero smiled that his joke had its intended effect and patted her on the back as he pushed her back to her seat in front of Kyra.

"…Take care of yourself, Marcy," he waved with one hand as he slapped Belua in the flank. The hound immediately swung towards Dinero, swiping him with her paw and laying him out with a snarl. The hound growled at the man before trotting off into the desert before breaking out into a run. Dinero was helped back to his feet by Frost as the crowd around them began to disperse. "…It looked so easy in the westerns," the old man wheezed as Frost carried him to the medical station.

From his tent, Barabbas strode out dressing in his armor. Summoning Drago, his riders all rallied around him. "…Scorpio's cavalry outnumbers us by a significant margin," Barabbas stated.

"Fine by me, I was worried this wouldn't be a fair fight," Dan grinned.

"Even so, you all cannot serve at your best if your primary concern is my well-being. So I relieve you of your honor guard duties so you can serve as the AEG's cavalry unit."

The riders all began to protest, but Barabbas silenced them all with a gesture. "…I shall fight with the Amazons, who will take up the right flank of the upcoming battle. And as for my honor guard, I shall see to it that I will recruit Rosa's cadre for myself.

"Sir, you would entrust your lives to a bunch of westerners?" Drago asked, incredulously.

"I do not doubt their capabilities. If they kept that idiot alive despite her best efforts, I know I shall not find them wanting," Barabbas stated as he walked away, shooting one last glance at the small trail of dust leading away from the camp.

The two legionary riders were not what they had expected. Not the fact that they were riding on half an automobile carried by two dogs, not the fact that they were women, and not the fact that both of them were sobbing as they held onto each other when they were intercepted by the group. Not for having been captured, but for having left two of their number behind.

Malocchio and Lionel looked over them as Arcade talked to Ulysses. "This new Legion is unrecognizable," the old wastelander stated. "Clearly, much has changed in my absence."

"They're just lucky I didn't plug two bullets in the two of them," Boone muttered as he kept his lookout. Andrea was darting between the two women, seeing if they were wounded while avoiding the growling of the hounds. As the least threatening member of the entourage, Andrea had been tasked with "interrogating" the two girls, not that she was making much progress on that front.

"…I got movement!" Boone announced as Arcade looked towards him. "What do you see?"

"…One… no… two people on foot. Looks like one's wounded and… IT'S ROSA!"

Arcade, Malocchio, and Ulysses all took off down range. As the three drew closer, the shape of the two began to materialize, one leaning against the other as they made their way through the desert.

"Do you really need to carry all that crap with you?" Rosa complained through gritted teeth as she dragged Duncan's wounded body further north.

"Did you really need to fight in your skivvies for a bunch of perverts?" Duncan mocked her as he kept trudging forward. As they did, they saw figures approaching them, one of them wearing power armor. Rosa stopped, put up her guard, and as they came closer, her eyes began to widen in disbelief and recognition. She knew these people. It was her Uncles, Arcade and Ulysses and… and…

"…MR. BOOOOOOONES!" Rosa squealed in delight as she dropped Duncan on the ground and charged after the charred ghoul. Malocchio broke out into a run as he darted away from Rosa, missing her tackle as she got back to her feet. "I'm gunna git you, I'm gunna git you, hu-hu-hu!" Rosa giggled, suddenly feeling like a little kid playing with her not-so-imaginary friend as she chased after the funny skele-man.

"Rosa! Malocchio! Now isn't the time for-" Arcade stopped as he watched Malocchio frog-jump over Rosa as she tried to catch him, playfully taunting the girl as she got back to her feet and tried to jump on him. The doctor sighed as the other stranger fell to his feet. "…Help me, please," he begged. Ulysses, having a medical bag of his own, approached the stranger.

"Are you a friend of Ms. Perez?" he asked as he drew closer.

"Argh, it's my leg, it's killing me. Please help, it hurts so bad," the stranger pleaded.

"Please wait while I get Doctor Gannon so he can-" Ulysses stopped when the man let out a cry in pain, quickening his pace as Rosa caught him out of the corner of her eye.

"Where does it hurt?" the old wastelander asked.

"…I'll live," Duncan snarled as he drew his knife. Before Ulysses could even react, and before Duncan could register what happened to his swing, his wrist was blocked by a kick, followed by a knee driving itself into his forehead, knocking him back. A shocked Ulysses was taken aback while a now infuriated Rosa stood over the fallen gunslinger. "YOU'VE ALREADY HURT ENOUGH PEOPLE I CARE ABOUT! YOU DON'T GET TO TAKE ANOTHER ONE!" she shrieked.

Duncan, still committed to his actions, merely pulled out his revolver and fired upon Ulysses, the tinny clicks of the empty chambers punctuating the desperate futility of his current state of helplessness. Rosa grabbed Duncan by the collar and clocked him across the face. While he wasn't knocked out, he did drop his weapon and seemed to relent for the moment. "…Uncle Arcade, could you please look after this idiot? Uncle Ulysses, keep your distance. This guy used to be a New Canaanite, and he still has a bit of a chip on his shoulder.

Ulysses' face shifted from confusion to immediate and accepting understanding. "…I see."

"Don't even think about playing martyr for this asshole," Rosa immediately interjected. "It won't make him any less miserable."

"Bite me, girl," Duncan hissed, not refuting her statement. Arcade oversaw Duncan's medical treatment, closing up the wound as best he could as he discarded the makeshift tourniquet, replacing it with a proper medical brace. Despite having attempted to assault a comrade, Arcade did not make any distinction over who to treat, Rosa thought with a small smile.

"…Well, what are you guys doing out here?" Rosa finally asked.

"A question we intended to ask you. Where is the AEG, and your father for that matter?" Ulysses asked as Arcade propped up Duncan on the condition that he behaved himself going forward.

It was a long and fulfilling conversation as they all walked back to the rest of the group. Rosa was delighted to see Uncle Craig, almost as much as Cheslie and May Lin were to see her, while Boone himself couldn't help but snicker over Ulysses' near-death experience, sympathizing with the gunslinging stranger.

As Rosa hugged the two freed slave girls, she saw Lionel out of the corner of her eye. "…You were looking for me, too?"

"I mean, not intentionally," Lionel stated, honestly. "I just wanted to see what the light did and got teleported here. Then I met up with Andrea and Petey, Ronny, and Davey."

Rosa saw Andrea and gave a friendly wave to someone she recognized. "Who are the other three?"

"The talking deathclaws," Lionel stated, bluntly.

"…More talking deathclaws?" Rosa asked, incredulously.

"What do you mean, more?" Arcade asked, nervously.

"I just killed this black lizard a few hours ago who kept trying to talk if his mouth hadn't been so fucked up," Rosa replied.

"You WHAT?!" Lionel screamed in disbelief.

"Yeah, I stabbed it in the head with my machete," Rosa explained. While her uncles swarmed around her, simultaneously impressed and concerned, Lionel just stood in disbelief. "…No…no…" he shook his head as he collapsed on the ground, defeated. "…My dream…" he began to sob.

Andrea looked over him as she watched as a man who had finally given up on his insane dream began to start quietly bawling. The old Andrea would have enjoyed laughing at the idiot. That old Andrea ended up owing her life to that idiot, protecting her from the very reptiles he admired so much to guarantee her safety. She let out a sigh.

"…Quit being a pussy, Lionel. Didn't you hear her? She used a machete. A weapon. Therefore it doesn't count, you can still be the first man in history to beat a freaking deathclaw in hand-to-hand combat," she admitted and relented.

Lionel perked up immediately in delight. "THAT'S TRUE! Thanks, Andrea, that means everything! And, now that I remember, wasn't there also that guy who fought Petey in close quarters? I can still kick his ass!"

Duncan groaned and winced as Cheslie and May Lin carried him to the back of the chariot. Laying him down and keeping his leg propped up, as per Arcade's orders, the girls left to rejoin Rosa as Duncan fumed and growled. He glared at that White Leg sack of shit, at the beret-wearing Cali trooper, at the Enclave reject in his over-designed tin can. At any other time, Duncan would have taken his shot against these people, but now he was in no condition to do the one thing he excelled at. Rosa wouldn't allow it, nor would her father be in any more of a forgiving mood, provided he was still alive tomorrow. Duncan's destiny was now firmly out of his control, he thought as the pain flared up again. Now, for things to go his way, he had to behave himself, get his prize at the end, and take his winnings elsewhere.

Vulpes sat upon the throne as the commanders stood before him, glaring at him expectantly. Jefferson stood some distance away, watching the new aspirant Caesar attempt to juggle politics out in the open, as opposed to the shadows he preferred. Valerius in particular stood across from Caesar, having watched as the Steel Marauders carried out Legate Tyrus's body from the tent earlier. Vulpes couldn't say he felt a lot of love for him in the room. For all of Scorpio's flaws and faults, the man knew how to openly command loyalty from his officers and soldier. Vulpes, however, was finding his people skills rather lacking.

"…We attack… the AEG… immediately," Vulpes finally stated, committing to an action that the 4th Legion, doubtlessly, had already agreed to do the moment they left Dallas. "Standing orders are… kill Barabbas… on sight!" he kept going, like a worker giving a presentation they only barely remembered as to keep his tenuously justified employment alive. The centurions sitting before him did not seem impressed.

"…All looting, erm, all looting shall be permitted after the battle. That applies to prisoners, whom, as I'm sure you are all aware, a significant portion of them are women," Vulpes continued. The glares surrounding him began to soften.

"…We outnumber the AEG by a significant margin, and their coalition is weak, at best," Vulpes continued, gaining his confidence. "Shatter their leaders and it will turn on itself, leaving us all Four Corners for the taking." This seemed to surprise the centurions, and even Jefferson seemed to stir.

"…The AEG is our most significant opposition between here and Vegas. With the Ministerio dead, there will be nothing to oppose us from retaking historic Legion lands. So there will be no need for a civil war in Dallas. With Barabbas dead and the Legion's glory restored, Dallas will beg US to take the throne! We will return as conquerors and heroes! All we have to do is destroy the pitiful army that seeks to oppose us! Who is with me?!"

The centurions pleaded their loyalty to the new leader who had assassinated their old one. Vulpes breathed a sigh of relief as the men filed out to rouse their legionaries and prepare the march on the AEG. As he was about to relax, a deep chuckle next to him began to approach him.

"…Never took you for an inspirational figure, dear Vulpes," Jefferson complimented, patronizingly.

"If you've no faith in this venture, Jefferson, you are more than welcome to leave," Vulpes shot back.

"Oh, I don't think you want that," Jefferson said as he loomed over Vulpes. "…I'm your trump card. If the battle turns against you, if your legionaries find themselves bleeding more than they expected, who will protect you from them, dearest Inculta? The Onager is at my disposal, not yours. And once you return to Dallas as a "conquering hero," I will demand my payment."

"…And whatever pay would you ask for, mercenary dog?" Vulpes asked.

Jefferson scoffed at the attempted admonishment from the hypocrite. "…Scorpio's hard-fought northern territories. They're mine."

"Ceding Legion lands to an outsider? Are you mad?" Vulpes balked. "They'll eat me alive!"

"…You're a wily little fox," Jefferson patted Vulpes on the shoulder, sending a shock down his spine. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. Or, perhaps, if you're willing to cede more, I can offer you something else?"

"…I'm listening," Vulpes admitted.

"A free ride. Give me Dallas, and I can take you back to Abacus," Jefferson was obviously grinning even behind his covered face.

Vulpes realized that Jefferson was using and manipulating him. It felt odd, being on the other side of such actions. Nonetheless, Vulpes saw little choice but to entertain the offer. "…We'll see how the battle goes. I'm counting on you and yours," Vulpes accepted.

"Vulpes, my friend," Jefferson replied with conspicuous menace in his voice. "I believe this might be the finest plan you've ever implemented."