Chapter 24: Ladies Night

Barabbas sat and watched the proceedings before him. Drago entangled with Sulla while the rest cheered them on. This fight wasn't about personal enmity, this was about pride. Sulla was a San Antonian, while Drago was a second-generation legionary. This was a fight for pride. And the closest thing the rest of them had to entertainment. As Sulla and Drago danced around the campfire, warding off the others' strikes, Falco sat next to his legate, a fresh bowl of soup in his hands.

"I've never seen you so eager to watch the games at Fort Wrath. What about this draws your attention?" Falco asked.

"The games in the arena are filled with so much pomp and presentation that it drowns out the parts that matter," Barabbas explained. "Give me two soldiers who know how to fight any day."

Falco nodded. "Understood." They watched as Sulla drove a knee into Drago's forehead, the centurion wincing as Barabbas let out a faint chuckle. Drago, before Sulla could line up another such strike, grappled with the younger legionary and mounted him, raining down blows upon the soldier as he tried to cover his head.

"I notice your attendant is nowhere near," Falco brought up as Sulla shoved away Drago and scooted away for distance.

Barabbas snorted. "She believes herself a termagant. She's nothing more than a welching load."

"Yet you haven't abandoned her," Falco stated, eying his superior. "Something special about this one?"

Barabbas scoffed. "Sentimental old geezer."

"I'm serious," Falco pressed as Sulla tackled Drago to the ground. "I've never seen you allow one of your slaves this many liberties. She flagrantly disrespects you, she ignores your expected conduct of her, and you haven't even taken her. Why?"

"…I have fifteen chosen consorts waiting for me back at Fort Wrath," Barabbas intoned. "In addition to that, I have frequently taken the daughter of that oaf Quincey, and can have practically any woman I want delivered to my quarters. I'm quite sated."

"That doesn't answer my question," Falco pressed. "Why her?"

"…Well, if you must know," Barabbas turned to his centurion. "…She struck your nephew and I saw fit to reward her."

A flash of anger crossed Falco's eyes, followed by a dawning realization. "…You mean he was about to…"

"Terror of the North, weapons in his hands and between his legs," Barabbas sniffed. "I made him submit and she took her opportunity. That's worth tolerating a few withering glares and barbed remarks."

Drago's thumbs had found Sulla's eyes. As the rest of the group began screaming in outrage and intervening, Falco continued his conversation. "And yet, I've never even seen you give her one of your Commands."

Barabbas' mood began to darken. "Well, I see you remain perceptive."

"Slave or no, you haven't used your Command once at her," Falco continued.

"…She broke out," Barabbas admitted.

"Come again?" Falco blinked.

"After weeks of obeying like the rest, I ordered her to release herself from my leg and she refused," Barabbas stated.

"…That's impossible," Falco breathed.

"And yet here we are," Barabbas groaned as Sulla and Drago broke apart before throwing themselves at each other once again.

"…Do you think she's like your…" Falco began.

"And I would very much appreciate my fellow soldier to not throw around such ideas lightly," Barabbas snapped.

"Of course, sir," Falco conceded. The two watched as the fight concluded, Drago helping up Sulla. As the two caught their breaths, Drago extended out a hand. Ignoring the gesture, Sulla settled for a hug, much to the cheers of the few spectators surrounding them.

"They're all under strict orders," Falco told his legate. "None of them are to touch your servant. She is not for general use."

Barabbas scoffed. "…Have you told the Amazonian?"

"…You know how they are," Falco sighed.

"Of course," Barabbas said as he picked himself up.

Kyra lay on her side and stewed away from the campfire and all that passed for revelry around it. Huddled in the dark, she listened to the cheering and contemplated making another run for it. As previous experience had demonstrated, however, she was unable to outrun a single one of those hound-mounts, let alone eight. So, she was "content" to wait for an opportunity, however that would manifest.

The sounds of footsteps came closer to her. Kyra immediately pretended to be asleep, curling into a ball and prepared herself to be gawked and fawned over by the very likely undersexed legionaries, as they were wont to believe, she figured. The comments she could endure, but if a hand was lain on her she would scream and hope Barabbas didn't want to share. It was bad enough that Scorpio's uncle was riding with them, she could only imagine the monster that lay beneath his skin.

"…Hm, nice hair," the female legionary said.

Kyra immediately rolled over to look her savior in the eyes. A woman would understand her peril! She could immediately see herself riding away from Barabbas and his cronies with her, taking her to a refuge of safety and peace, starting a new life for herself! Everything she could have dared dream of! It was perfect, just too perfect!

"Uh-uh-uh," the female legionary shook her head. "Roll back over." As Kyra obliged, she could hear the female legionary whistle. "And a sweet ass, too. Barabbas is the luckiest shit in the Legion."

Too perfect, indeed.

Kyra rolled back over, looking her false rescuer in the face. She was lanky, somewhat masculine in her face, and could easily pass for a male unless one looked closely. She was munching on a tato, a vegetable common in the region, and grinned at the look Kyra was giving her.

"Cute tits, too."

Despite wearing the sackcloth garments common amongst the slaves, Kyra still felt compelled to protect her modesty, curling up and covering her chest. The female legionary, Hypatia, giggled.

"Skinny arms, though. Probably for the best you wound up with our Legate. Wouldn't want a cute little thing like you in the stocks. Unless that's how you like it, I don't judge," she continued her horrifying assessment casually, taking no visible pleasure in the discomfort she was giving the involuntary concubine.

"What do you want?" Kyra groaned.

"Oh, she talks, too?" Hypatia's eyebrows rose. "Guess that mouth isn't just for looks, after all! Course I could think of some other uses," she grinned.

Fate clearly despised her. She joined a new tribe, it was put to the sword. Her peoples' butcher spares her, she's given as a gift to a new master. He doesn't immediately rape her, she's still at his beck and call for the rest of her life. She escapes Scorpio once again, she's tied to his dog and taken out into the wasteland. She finally meets another female soul, and she is clearly willing to pick up what Barabbas chose not to do. What did she do wrong?

"Well," Kyra finally began to snark. "Considering the Legion enjoys mounting each other as much as their dogs, I suppose that makes you the single two-legged bitch in the group."

The implications of what Kyra said hit Hypatia. She immediately grabbed Kyra by the collar and forced her to her knees. The sudden change in demeanor shocked Kyra so much that she forgot to scream. Hypatia stared daggers into the slave as her mouth drew back in a snarl. Kyra tried to remember how to apologize.

"…Eheh-heh-heh-heh," Hypatia began to giggle. "Guess Barabbas didn't break you after all, as much fun as that would be to witness." She released her captive, yet put a foot on her ankle as she tried to crawl away.

"…Guess no one told you about the Legios Amazonia?"

"I didn't know the Legion had female members," Kyra shook her head.

"Eh, we're kinda new. While Caesar founded most of the Legion, the Legios Amazonia was founded by the Oracle and the Cult of Mars. See, a while back the Frumentarii took the loss of the Second Battle of Hoover Dam very poorly after their plots failed, and then Vulpes lost most of his vital supporters right before he betrayed Caesar Lanius. So, there was a gap in our forces that Our Lady Oracle offered to train and fill."

"You serve that creepy Oracle?" Kyra asked.

"Creepy?" Hypatia growled. Kyra quelled away, averting her eyes. "Not unfair. We were just formed to put the screws to Caesar Lanius, and once that stopped entertaining her, she discarded us. We had to spend years proving our worth, enduring dying on the battlefield and abusive commanders alike. No one took us seriously until we conquered Houston," Hypatia grinned. "Five cohorts repulsed, but a few "wayward souls" looking for respite enter no problem and open the gates for the rest of the host. That changed a few tunes."

"So, you're spies?" Kyra asked.

"Fairly often. After all, everyone knows the Legion doesn't hire women," Hypatia winked. "Course, some of the ranking members of the military started to take it upon themselves to "sample" these new soldiers. That stopped once we were all married."

"You have a husband?" Kyra asked, surprised by the notion.

"To Caesar himself, every one of us," Hypatia grinned. "Purely ceremonial, if only to dissuade any further transgressions against us. After all, any liberties against us will also become acts against Caesar, and nobody in Imperial Dallas wants to risk that."

The wheels in Kyra's head began to turn. "…How do I join?" she stated, quickly.

Hypatia realized what Kyra was trying to do. "…Oh, you want to give your life to Caesar? Or just avoid being Barabbas' second favorite bitch to ride?"

"I just want to be safe, again," Kyra pleaded.

"I thought you made a deal with Barabbas," Hypatia countered. "Total freedom. If you want to pull back on it, I'll just talk to Barabbas and I can take ownership of you, if that's what you want?"

Kyra felt her stomach sink. "Ownership?"

"We're all slaves to Caesar, little girl. Some work and toil, others fight and die. The lucky ones of the fairer sex are given to choice officers to breed heirs. The Legios Amazonia is no different. Our minds and bodies belong to Caesar and Imperial Dallas, not ourselves, and they shall be used as seen fit. If you want to join and Barabbas allows it, I will oversee your breaking."

"…Breaking?" Kyra whispered.

"…It's exactly what it sounds like," Hypatia replied, casually and level. "And since you would no longer belong to Barabbas, I'd make your training a team affair."

Kyra was on the verge of tears, her lip quivering as she pushed her knees to her face. "…Did you think I was a good person?" Hypatia purred.

"…I'm sorry," Kyra whimpered.

"I figured as much," Hypatia snorted as she picked herself up. "The moment you asked, I knew you didn't have it in you."

"…I'm sorry… that you had to go through that," Kyra completed, taking a breath.

Hypatia paused as she was leaving. "…Save it for someone who cares," she finally said, leaving Kyra to herself.

She saw the dust clouds kicked up miles before the caravan came down the road. The wanderer moved to the side as the stagecoaches came rumbling alongside her, one after the other, the husks of the vehicles pulled by mutant cattle. She took off her hat as she wiped some of the sweat from her brow. One of the stagecoaches came to a stop beside her, the window to the passenger's side of the back seat rolling down to show the gap-toothed smile of a young girl poking out at the newcomer.

"Heya, lady! You looking for a lift?"

"Afraid I'm going the other direction," the silver-haired cowgirl shook her head.

"…Wanna buy some stuff for the road?" the girl offered.

"…Watcha got?" Silverhair accepted, leaning in on the door window.

"…Uhm… hows about some Turbo?" the kid offered.

"Hard pass," Silverhair turned up her nose. "And why does a kid like you carry something like that?"

"Well, would you rather a kid grow up to be a drug dealer or a drug addict?" the girl shrugged.

"No comment," Silverhair reiterated. "Plus, how do I know you aren't watering it down? Gonna test it, first?"

"…Ok, I admit it, you're pretty good," the kid surrendered. "It's just jalapeno juice with sarsaparilla, do I look like I know how to mix chemicals? I'm not a Khan, I'm eleven!"

"Keep trying," Silverhair ignored her. "You haven't lost me, yet."

"…Uh… ammo?" the girl offered.

"Now you're talking more my speed," Silverhair breathed a sigh of relief. "Got any .357s? .44s? .45s?"

"That and more," the girl nodded enthusiastically, glancing at the shotgun draped behind her customer's back. "And I take it you're also looking for some good ol' buckshot?"

Silverhair winked. The transaction was quick and painless, a fistful of caps exchanged for some clips and shells. Silverhair pulled out a .45 pistol and was about to load it when a magnum from the driver's seat was pointed at her. "We don't do .45 discounts in this car. No loading until we leave, got it?"

"My apologies, ma'am. Your store, your rules," Silverhair pocketed the ammo. She looked to the girl. "You have quite the hardass partner."

"That's my mom!" the girl beamed.

"So where are you two going?" Silverhair asked.

"We're going to the Res in the Res," the girl remarked, indicating the still pure and manmade lake in the middle of the Arizona Reservation, a common stop for traders of all kinds of goods. Silverhair had been there a few times, back when she had a crew and reasons for being there. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she glanced back at the girl.

"Anything else you're selling?"

"…Want some whiskey?" The girl offered.

The final transaction had cleared out the stagecoach's entire stock. As the driver counted off the caps, Silverhair threw all the bottles in a duffel bag around her shoulder. "Always a pleasure doing business," the girl cheered as she prepared to roll up the window. A hand suddenly blocked the plane, causing the driver to fumble for her magnum once again.

"Relax, we're all just friends and customers," Silverhair tried to placate. "I'm just looking for some information."

"…About what?" the girl blinked, nervously.

"…I think this is a question for your mother. Can I buy some privacy?" Silverhair asked. The girl proceeded to cup her hands around her ears and hum to herself for thirty caps while the wastelander walked around the stagecoach and approached the driver. Reluctantly, the driver rolled down her own battered window.

"…You guys buy or sell with RMX?" Silverhair asked, her previous warmth lessening.

"Us and the rest of the region, ma'am," the driver replied in equal measure.

"I don't care about guns or booze, I know you don't. What about skin, though?" Silverhair asked.

"Never," the driver was insulted by the insinuation. "You take us for Legion?"

"I'm not taking you for anything you aren't selling. I'm looking for a skin-dealer, chain around the head. Any good info on your end will be worth your while," Silverhair offered.

The driver motioned Silverhair to lean in closer, not wanting even the distracted girl in the back to realize what she was saying. "…We sold some ammo and radio components to this crew that works for a man named Claude. I know he's a skin dealer, but I've got mouths to feed and he paid triple what you just did."

"How generous," Silverhair replied, casually.

"…We sold to them three days ago, they were heading east, to Legion turf. Guess the market near the mountains dried up for slaves," the driver offered.

"It did. They have a habit of losing customers in that region," Silverhair replied. "And if they keep losing crews, that whole venture just might stop being… profitable."

"…I wish you luck, girl," the driver nodded. "You're going to need it."

"It's a little late for luck," Silverhair replied as she leaned away. "I'm just a woman with nothing left to lose."

As the stagecoach pulled away, the girl in the back uncuffed her ears and turned around to wave at their departing customer. Turning back, she looked to her mother. "How much did we pull?"

"800. Not bad, my little wasteland capitalist," her mother grinned in the rearview.

The girl giggled. "She didn't seem like the kind of lady who liked sweet-talk."

"Very observant," her mother smiled. "You're getting smarter by the day. Pretty soon you won't need mom anymore."

"Then you'll just have to focus on spyin and whorin!" the girl cheered.

A hand reached back and grabbed the girl by the ear. "What did I tell you about mommy's work?" Daphne asked.

"It's just spyin, the whorin's a cover, I remember, I remember," Tia pleaded. Daphne released her daughter's ear. "I really hope you have a man when you come of age. I want more from you, kiddo, and more for you."

"Who needs a man when you got caps?" Tia asked.

"Also true, girl," Daphne nodded. "Also true. So, what do we do when we get to the Res in the Res?"

"Keep my mouth shut and my ears open and get any useful info back to Kenzie so we can fuck California twice!" Tia beamed.

Daphne snuck a finger in her daughter's mouth, hooked it behind her cheek, and yanked her forward. "AND WHO TAUGHT YOU TO TALK LIKE THAT?" Daphne snarled.

"You did!" Tia managed to get out.

"WELL, I'M A BAD FUCKING EXAMPLE!" Daphne castigated.

"…475…476…477…478…" Lt. Baxter thought internally as she continued her crunches. The late evenings were when she allotted herself to do some reasonably taxing workouts. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats, basic calisthenics that could be done without equipment. She missed the gym back at Sierra. She missed her barracks and friends. She missed her family. She missed Sig. That is another set of fifty reps for showing weakness, her battle-hardened side called her out.

Kim was lonely. She was used to being lonely, having stood out so much in her youth for being tall and eventually for being related to the infamous ex-General Moore. Her military career had almost been strangled in its crib when that family tie was revealed. Divisive was the polite word. It was really a matter of how much one hated an independent Vegas, and even then most felt that she paid too steep a price.

Lt. Baxter had a poor reputation. The 5th Heavy Armor also suffered the same thanks to its horrific underperformance during the Mojave War. After graduating from officer training, Kim found herself transferred to the unit to try and salvage any use she could from it. By herself, she could not, but there was one group that knew more about power armor than any on the continent. That group she made contact with and allowed select members to integrate within the NCR, causing her no small end of blowback with her superiors.

The Brotherhood of Steel and NCR were never on great terms, and even now the relationship could be generously considered hostile. However, Kim had a hunch. As much as the Brotherhood may despise the Republic, they only had to look to the east and see the rise of the Midwestern Confederacy, in all its perversion of their values and warping of its mission statement to make even the most dedicated paladin retch and look for allies. A handful of defectors later and the NCR was able to correctly train soldiers with and maintain power armor on a larger scale than it had been. That was where she met Sig, which caused her to remember that the last conversation she had with the guy was for him to not wait up for her to come back. Another fifty, Lt. Baxter growled at her sentimental side.

"So that's what you look like outside the tin can," a voice called out. Lt. Baxter looked up to see the athletic-looking woman downing a beer. "I don't believe we've made introductions. I'm Rosa. And you must be Psycho-Bitch's niece, right?"

"I prefer Lt. Baxter, Ms. Perez," Kim glowered. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," Rosa stroked her chin. "I was wondering if you could loan me some power armor for an afternoon or so."

"I'm afraid I must say no," Lt. Baxter shook her head.

"You didn't even ask why!" Rosa pouted.

"…Why?" Lt. Baxter reluctantly conceded.

"I want to turn a certain Dipshit's skull into putty and dump his body into the latrines so no one will ever find it," Rosa explained.

"…No," Lt. Baxter growled. "They aren't toys and I certainly wouldn't trust you with a suit."

"Of course," Rosa nodded, suspiciously understandingly. "That's for the mighty NCR military to handle. What is your track record with them, I wonder? Have you actually won a fight with those tin cans?"

"We acquitted ourselves quite well against the hostiles at Fort Abandon," Lt. Baxter stated.

Rosa's eyes widened. "Wow! You actually used advanced technologies to shoot up a bunch of junkies! That's amazing! I did the same thing when I was a teenager with a pocket knife and a BB gun!"

"How very noble of you," Lt. Baxter stated. "A true humanitarian worthy of your family."

This got her a glare from Rosa. "…You want to talk about family?" Rosa asked.

"I'd rather not," Lt. Baxter stated.

"Ok, let's talk about family. Let's talk about how your Psycho-Bitch auntie helped an even bigger Psycho-Bitch try to nuke the southwest? Would you like that?" Rosa growled.

"I'd rather not," Lt. Baxter repeated.

"How about we talk about how your auntie passed so many bucks to the Governor that he could eventually waltz right into the Lucky 38, crown himself the ruler of that shithole town, and have the audacity to blame HIM for it?"

"I am not my aunt, if that's what you're getting at," Lt. Baxter replied.

"Face it," Rosa leaned in. "Your aunt is part of the reason the NCR lost Vegas, and if it hadn't been for her I wouldn't be dragging my ass into Legion territory surrounded by Californian stooges."

"So, you are saying that if my aunt had been more proactive and less dependent on your father, you wouldn't exist?" Kim asked.

Rosa paused, looking over Kim with a newfound sense of… she didn't know how to describe it.

"I mean, I'm fairly certain whoever gave birth to you wouldn't have given a package deliveryman the time of day, but the Governor, well, that gets the panties moistened, don't it?" Kim smirked.

"Stop talking," Rosa growled.

"I mean, the Mojave War was as much your father's victory as it was California's failing. All that effort for a tiny nation sandwiched every which way by giants and an ingrate of a daughter from some groupie," Kim continued.

"Don't talk about my mom like that," Rosa seethed.

"You started it," Kim betrayed a cold smile. "Now, as for what I think about your father, well, it's really a little embarrassing," she admitted.

"You know what, this is a stupid conversation," Rosa began to walk away from Lt. Baxter.

"He's on my bucket list," Kim said before Rosa could turn the corner. Rosa froze, the statement running through her mind like a condemned man making one desperate break for freedom. Her head slowly turned to Kim, who had gotten off the ground and began dusting off her trousers. Kim looked up and had to stop from laughing at the mortified expression on Rosa's face.

"Well, I think Frost needs a hand. I can't say I know much about A/V equipment but I'm one for learning new things," Lt. Baxter said. "It was nice to finally make your acquaintance, Ms. Perez. I certainly hope our next conversation will go better than this o-" the words died in her mouth as the fist collided with her cheek.

Lt. Baxter took a moment to check her jaw. "…Good hit," she admitted as she swallowed some blood. She turned to look at the heaving shoulders of Rosa. "You ready to drop the subject?"

Rosa reared her fist back for another strike. Lt. Baxter bulldozed into her, throwing off the blow and landing a punch into Rosa's liver. A gasping and wheezing Rosa's knees buckled as Kim checked around the area for witnesses. Gently, she guided Rosa to a seat on the dirt as she continued to wheeze and heave.

"Well, I think that's enough excitement for today," Kim ruffled Rosa's hair as she spat out a bloody gob of spit beside her.

"…Hate… you…" Rosa wheezed out.

"Well, you did just lose a fight you instigated. I'd feel pretty pathetic about that, to be fair," Kim said as she stood up. "I guess I'll just have to take my pleasure where I can. I admit, I had high hopes for you when I found out who you were. So in a way I guess I'm a little disappointed, too."

Rosa tried to glare at Kim even as her stomach felt like it was going to lurch up to her throat. This woman literally just compared her to her fa- the Governor after she insulted her mom and took indirect credit for being the reason she even existed, and that was before she got into the notion that she had the Governor on her bucket- she began to feel sick once again.

"You know," Kim purred as she leaned down towards Rosa. "I think we actually have something in common between the two of us." After capturing Rosa's attention one last time, she went in for the kill. "We both want to call the Governor "Daddy."

Mission accomplished. Rosa puked into her lap. Lt. Baxter nonchalantly walked away, leaving the defeated in a pile of her own sick and regrets. She'd probably tell people, but to most, it would just be her words against Lt. Baxter's, a wounded ego trying to justify a humiliation that came from losing a fight she picked. And as for the bucket list comment, well, Rosa didn't seem like the type to share information like that, and even if she wanted to risk humiliating Kim by spreading it, she could either pass it off as a joke or taunt with no one the wiser. No one really had to know.

When her stomach had emptied, Rosa picked herself onto her feet. Rosa looked on as Lt. Baxter strolled away like nothing happened. Rosa did not lose fights. Rosa was certainly never knocked on her ass by one blow. Rosa had puked her guts out from binge drinking earlier, and Kim had gotten a lucky shot. Therefore, she was absolutely not going to report Lt. Baxter to her superiors, and not because that would be an act of surrender on her part, and no one, especially not herself, would ever respect her afterwards. So, she decided to watch as her second least-favorite person in the AEG strolled away like nothing had happened.

"Rosa, so glad I could catch you!"

Rosa came back down to earth as Joseph approached her. The preacher lifted his head up and sniffed. "…Something stinks."

"I… uh… had too much to drink," Rosa tried to deflect.

"…You're going to lie… to me?" Joseph asked, more bemused than offended.

"She sucker-punched me!" Rosa interjected.

Joseph shook his head, tutting. "Honesty isn't just for other people, Rosa. If you aren't in any condition for our meeting, I can postpone it until we both feel you are ready."

"No, I… I…" Rosa sighed. "…I went looking for a fight and found it. Happy?"

"Elated," Joseph nodded. "Now let us get you out of those pants. I can forgive many things, but I do not want to spend the evening smelling your crusty vomit."

"Great, so what are we doing?" Rosa asked as she pulled herself to her feet.

"Your choice," Joseph offered. "Your past or future, but it won't be a quick or easy trip. You might want to have someone close by to ground you in case we go too deep."

"That's never happened before, though," Rosa countered.

"Hasn't happened yet," Joseph corrected. "As much as I love optimism, honesty isn't just for other people."

"Come on, man, give yourself some credit. No one else can do what you do," Rosa punched Joseph in the shoulder.

"The world is a big place, Rosa," Joseph countered as he rubbed his arm. "When I'm by myself, sometimes I can hear echoes. I'd very much like to meet others like me should providence be so kind."

"Well, I wouldn't know what to tell you when that day comes. Till then, you're stuck with us normies. So, let's swing by my tent, first. And, uh…"

"Mum's the word," Joseph smiled. Rosa grinned. The two left together, the moonlight shining above as, elsewhere, Larain and Carla were chatting around a campfire. Jimmy watched, even as his eyes were glued to the carved out dictionary he had brought with him, as he began to resent his aptitude for discretion. Elsewhere, Tobey was cleaning out his father's gift, only stopping when Natalie dropped by his tent to ask how the scouting trip with Rosa had gone, trying to hide her nervousness and trepidation along with her happiness for her son. Elsewhere, Lt. Baxter ignored Frost's constant questions on where the bruise had come from, ending the conversation for good by putting on a welding mask and working on her suit. Defeated, Tim Frost returned to his editing. Elsewhere, an alarm near the perimeter of the camp was sounded. Numerous marksmen, super mutants, and tribal scouts were rallied to drive away the three deathclaws sighted a few miles from camp, with the expectation that this would finally end the strangely consistent wildlife attacks that had been dogging the AEG since Arizona. Elsewhere, Sawney watched atop a hill and giggled. And finally, elsewhere, Cade had given up on trying to breach the camp on his own, deciding to change up his strategy. It would take him a bit, but instead of forcing his way into the AEG by himself, he knew how he could make the AEG come to him. Cade packed up his rifle, rolled up his camp, and headed east, to the only place in the Arizona wastes that could hope to fill the appetites of so many strangers in this land.