Chapter 97: Maelstrom

Joseph sat alone in the middle of the room. His wife had gone downstairs with Tia, and by now both had likely passed out from their long day of looking after the wounded, Tia likely sprawled out on a couch while Mel slept in a chair. It was just him. Him and the Shepherd.

He planted his cane onto the ground and began to exert. Pain shot through his back as he began to lift himself off the chair. Sweat formed on his furrowed brow as his teeth gritted from the effort. Eventually, the strain was too great, not wanting to fall and have his wife find him in a heap in the morning. He collapsed back onto the seat, not allowing his failure to linger in his mind. Fortunately, he didn't need to use the lavatory, so without any immediate pressing concerns, he could instead focus his mind on other matters. Like his helplessness in the broader conflict and inability to help his friends. As the morning light crept through the window, covering his face in faint warmth, Joseph bowed his head.

Pariah, or as she would rather, Marcy had been a capable partner. Using her abilities as a conduit of his own, he was able to locate the prodigal Rosa and Duncan. To keep them safe, he was able to manifest shades of those who he knew would give their all to protect them. As much as Joseph enjoyed "seeing" the faces of old friends, he knew that at its heart, it was merely an illusion. A powerful one, though, one he lost control of in the presence of Duncan. The ability for the shades to speak was not something he had anticipated, nor their ability to linger as long as they did, much to the consternation of Marcy and himself. Nonetheless, he was still convinced that it was nothing more than a sophisticated psyker phenomenon. Mostly.

Still, it was through their words that he now knew the fate of one of his most treasured guardians. As much as he would pray for his safety, Joseph could not lie to himself over the notion that he was in any hurry to meet the man himself. Not all wounds could heal so quickly, and even he was not that quick to forgive. He thought through his memories of the ex-guardsman, noting that, even as a boy, he realized that there was something "off" about the reclusive gunner, a sentiment seemingly only his nephew David seemed to share, young as he had been.

His heart felt a pang. He hadn't seen his nephew in ages, or his father. David had left the Albright family when he had become a man, looking to do some mission work in a place that wasn't already infested with his fellow believers, he would jokingly tell his uncle. So he left for parts unknown out to the east, looking to join up with his grandfather.

Joseph's smile began to fade. The last time he and his father spoke, they had argued. A series of small disagreements eventually culminated into a major blowup as their tempers flared. His father, despite being one of the senior-most members of the community and a man of exemplary faith, was often troubled by the company Joseph kept and practically incensed in his choice of partner for marriage. The discussion had been cordial enough, but eventually the words became stronger as their natural Young stubbornness took hold, and soon enough the words began to escalate further than they had ever gone before. Soon enough, the neighboring Albright family could hear the alien sounds of screaming coming from next door, and before too long a furious Elder Paul exiting his son's house in anger, leaving the next day on a westward mission without saying goodbye to his youngest. Joseph swallowed at the bitter memory, having remembered why he hadn't recently thought of his father. He missed his family.

Having spent all yesterday and most of the night awake, Joseph knelt his head forward as he gradually lost consciousness, his mind drifting elsewhere as his body began to slumber.

"All wings, kill engines, prepare to glide for the next few clicks," Air Marshal Kat Gordon announced over the comms as her fighter disabled its turbines. The rest of her squadron followed suit, and soon enough the rest of the wings did, as did their gunship Pearl. They had received word from the AEG that they were about to make imminent contact with a large and significant hostile force, a far cry from their previous requests for assistance. However, upon hearing the coordinates, most of the pilots balked. It was practically double the range from any of their previous operations, well outside recommended safety parameters for safe pilot retrieval. Upon hearing the murmurs of discontent amongst her pilots, Air Marshal Gordon announced that this operation would be all-volunteer. And so the largest contingent of the Mojave Air Patrol ever assembled for a single operation had flown out of Henderson.

Most of the briefing had been strategizing how to limit their fuel and energy consumption, mostly through strategically choosing when to glide. Though the planes and pilots had been acquitting themselves quite well, they had their comms on and were combing over every bit of information they could get their hands on about the opposition. While normally, the notion of dropping bombs on the Legion would normally be something met with enthusiasm by most of her wing, the notion of facing off against a Midwest Confederacy air contingent was something she didn't quite know what to expect from. Nonetheless, all craft were loaded up to almost max capacity with fuel, ammo, and survival packs, so each and all of them were fully bracing for the worst.

Tek-Baron Jefferson sat in his command throne as he overlooked the observation window before him. Tucked underneath the bulk of the Onager, it allowed him an ideal view to see the formation of Vulpes and his Legion advancing against the entrenched positions of the AEG and their allies. He watched as Vulpes, in the centermost cohort, barked orders to his commanders as they barely tolerated the sudden disruption in the chain of command. In truth, Vulpes didn't entirely have his fingers on the leash of the Bull, at it was only the promise of slaughtering those who opposed him that turned their anger from him. Vulpes knew this, hence the distance between himself and the rest of the cohort, the space in his immediate vicinity seemingly unoccupied.

Before them, the Legion encountered a number of skirmishers. Those calling themselves the "Liberty Clans" stood rank by rank with the Judicial Marshals, unloading upon the first waves as they approached, bracketed by fire from what artillery the AEG could muster. As the recruit waves were disrupted and supplemented by the prime, Jefferson picked up the comm by his throne. "Cannoneer, prepare a rocket barrage. Can't have too many of these idiots get killed this soon."

"Affirmative, Tek-Baron," came the static reply. Jefferson sat back as he watched the rockets launch toward the skirmisher formation. He fought back a grin as he watched them scramble, even as most of the rockets turned out to be duds. Embarrassing as it was, Jefferson tended to focus more on quantity than quality in matters such as that. Quality was something he focused more on his airborne assault and heavy infantry squadrons. After all, why waste valuable resources to disrupt your enemies when the Legion offered up cheaper alternatives? As the lines advanced, he gazed down to see the main line of defense awaiting the approaching legionaries.

"NOT ONE STEP BACK!" Wallace roared as he stood above the trench line, gazing upon the charging legionaries in contempt. Pulling out his sidearm, he joined the volley of fire as Mullens knelt beside him, service rifle at the ready. The 32nd Guard were going to make or break their position atop this bluff, though they would not stand alone. Milligan and Tandi were acting in support while the Marshals and Clanners repositioned, not to mention that they were currently being assisted by the Legios Amazonia, standing beside them in stalwart support as they refused to cede even a single inch. They were tired of running from these and were willing to die rather than relent even further.

Holding out in reserve, and itching to get involved, was Captain Baxter. As much as she, and Major Wallace himself, wanted to charge forward and smash into the lines personally, they had to be held back because, Major Wallace thought as he glanced over the damnable machine parked before the horizon, they had to be ready when the Onager finally got involved.

Still, there was something off about this fight. For starters, he hadn't seen any trace of Scorpio or his chariot. For that matter, he hadn't seen most of the enemy dog cavalry. The logical side of his brain supposed that perhaps they were hunting down whatever had caused their camp to erupt in flame. He glanced down the line to the Governor as he and Cassidy joined the rifles beside them in attacking the approaching Legion. He seemed calm and confident that whatever happened last night guaranteed the safety of his daughter. He couldn't help but envy how assured the old man was about it and regained his composure as he reloaded his weapon, barking orders to his radioman to get in contact with Commissioner Boone and Sovereign Larain.

Larain dragged the wounded Clanner to another waiting to receive him as the Marshals prepared to regroup and reform their lines. The artillery barrage had rattled them, but it was soon apparent that most of the rounds were inoperable. Larain thought about it and figured perhaps most of the active rounds were used against the prior engagements against the Amazons, and without a chance to resupply were reduced to dummy rounds and flares. He hoped that would be the case as Daphne approached him, rifle in hand.

"That last barrage has most of the clans pretty shook. If this keeps up, some of them might cut and run."

"The Amazons swore they'd kill anyone they saw fleeing," Larain replied as he looked over the regrouping Clanners. One of them looked over as Larain made his statement. "They're going to kill us?!"

"…No, Matty. The Amazons don't want to kill you," Larain sighed.

Matty exhaled in relief at the statement from his Sovereign. "…because I'M GOING TO KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS BACK ON THE FIRING LINE!" Larain screamed as he pointed both pistols at Matty.

"Yes, sir!" Matty tearfully replied as he ran back to the mob of clanners that had reformed and prepared to countercharge.

"…We're going to have a lot more Matty's if this doesn't turn in our favor," Daphne warned.

Larain looked before him at the mass of scared yet determined folk who were willing to fight for a cause Larain could barely understand himself, let alone explain to any who asked. The clans were risking their lives for the promise that their alliance would be honored and that those who fought beside them would respect their freedom, but in the face of such viciousness, even he saw some wisdom in cutting their losses and fending for themselves.

Larain then realized that all such an action would do was abet the brutality of an organization much like the one that claimed the soul of his father. He shook his head. He had spent his entire lifetime recognizing that he was not his father, but now, there was something that he did find himself drawing upon. As much as a POS as he had been, his father never ran from a fight, and those who fought beside him would know that much about him. Drawing his weapons before him, he called out to his brothers and sisters, "WE CAN DIE FREE OR LIVE IN FEAR! ANY LIBERTY CLANNER WORTH A DAMN KNOWS THAT THERE AIN'T NO CHOICE IN THAT! SO COME ON, BOYS! LET'S KEEP THESE CALI-FUCKERS ALIVE!"

Barabbas sat beneath the trench line as the Amazons kept poking their heads up to exchange fire with their traitorous brothers. He glanced around him, seeing the Boone twins checking each other's gear as they whispered to one another about Rosa. The one named Jimmy Bishop kept to himself, ignoring any attempts by Inspector Huerta to start any kind of conversation. Sophia sat beside him, awaiting her sister's arrival. Despite nearly ordering her execution, her loyalty to Caesar remained steadfast, Barabbas thought to himself.

The cloaked figure of Ferra soon rejoined Barabbas's emergency retinue, with his riders repositioning themselves elsewhere as they awaited whatever cavalry their enemies had in store, Barabbas found himself making do with what he could. Ferra began to sign with her hands as Sophia relayed her sister's messages.

"…Scorpio isn't here," Sophia let aloud in disbelief.

"Holding himself in reserve?" Huerta scoffed.

"No, he's not here. No chariot, no banner, no sign of the man himself," Sophia relayed as she struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. Barabbas thought to himself. "…Scorpio would not pass up a chance to kill me and all those who oppose him. For him, letting his army rip apart his enemies without him being so much as present is anathematic to him. The only reason I can think that he wouldn't be here… is that he is no longer alive.

A nearby Amazon overheard what Caesar had mentioned. "SIRE! SCORPIO IS DEAD?!" she cried over the cacophony.

"I mean, it's a little early to say anything-" Tobey tried to placate.

"I CAN'T SEE HIS CHARIOT OR BANNER ANYWHERE!" Another Amazon announced. "SCORPIO HAS FALLEN! HE'S DEAD!"

Word traveled up and down through the line, and where once the Amazons acquitted themselves with stoic determination, now for the first time in months, their morale began to soar. They let out their war cries as those who had expended their ammo drew their machetes and dared the attackers to come and claim their lives. Barabbas did not join the celebration. While not sad to see Scorpio pass, a part of him felt that he had failed to avenge Falco and all the suffering Scorpio had been responsible for.

"Well, then, who's leading them? The guy flying the blimp?" Carla asked.

Sophia turned to Ferra as she began to sign again. "…She says she had a visual on Vulpes Inculta, and he's positioned somewhere in the middle of the First Cohort."

Ferra felt a large, strong hand grab her by the shoulder. "You are sure of this?!" Barabbas demanded. Ferra looked up to her Caesar, gulped, and nodded.

"…I'm going up," Barabbas growled as he picked himself off the ground.

"Sire, what are you-" Sophia asked.

"Avenging your master and my mother," Barabbas growled. "Those coming with me, keep close but not so much. First two rows will be a bit of a splash zone."

As the legionaries managed to approach the lip of the trench, a massive slap of iron struck out from the pit, bisecting two recruits whose top halves fell into the pit. The massive warrior climbed out, letting out a roar that somehow pierced the nearby legionaries down to their spirits, the presence of Caesar terrifying the closest of those who opposed him. He drew his weapon back as he began to cleave through the lines, followed by two marshals, a mobster, a federale, and two women, one armed with a submachine gun and the other with an array of bottled concoctions.

"…Air Marshal, that signature is back on radar again."

Kat Gordon looked down at her console, seeing that the "blip" had once again reappeared.

"…Send out another hail," she sighed, knowing full well how futile such actions had proven to be. Sure enough, they were unable to secure a channel, and once again the "blip" disappeared from radar as quickly as it had.

"…ETA twenty minutes to contact," she announced. "Our "friend" should either shit or get off the pot. Don't bother hailing again. It's game time."

Mobius kept his distance from the fighter wings. His stealth cover apparently had some quirks to work out, but it had done its job thus far by avoiding any confrontation with the dangerous attack craft. But, having received so much radio chatter, some small part of him that he had almost forgotten felt compelled to help out however he could. After all, he was a doctor.

Tek-Baron Jefferson looked over the reports coming through his command console. Multiple air targets approaching. A part of him marveled at the resilience of the Mojave's air force. Surely, these people realized that they were embarking on a one-way trip? However, he had to admit that their sudden appearance did concern him a bit. He was sitting in the middle of a very large target, after all. "…Launch all air assault containers, attack, and interceptor craft. Once they are clear, activate the tesla barriers and all point defenses."

Captain Kim Baxter watched as various eruptions and smoke trails emerged from the hull of the massive airship. Several rocket-powered containers launched right towards the cluster of the AEG, followed by several of the attack craft and some newcomers, which looked like several rocket turbines with cockpits mounted on top of them. No doubt fighter aircraft, Kim thought as she looked behind her, anticipating the arrival of the Mojave Air Patrol to assist them. Then, lightning began forming around the airship, coating the hull and the area around it with streaks and sparks. Baxter then realized that Commissioner Gordon's job had gotten a lot harder, and so had hers as she placed her helmet upon her head, motioning her squad to prepare to intercept the newcomers. As the legion smashed into their front line and the Steel Marauders landed behind them, Baxter shared one last look at the flanks, wondering when the famous hound cavalry of Scorpio would show up.

Drago put down the binoculars as he scowled. "…No chariot and no hounds, what the hell is Scorpio playing at?" Barabbas had positioned his cavalry some distance away from the frontlines, where they could best intercept Scorpio's superior cavalry numbers. A cavalry that was, as best as they could see from this position, conspicuously absent.

Unbeknownst to the riders, the AEG, and even most of the Legion they were fighting against, the majority of Scorpio's cavalry had been sent out to track down and kill the escaped Rosa and her companions. Unfortunately, most of the cavalry stumbled across a small pack of deathclaws, whose unusual cunning and talent for violence rent apart the riders and shattered their morale and scattered the survivors. Having found the bodies of their brothers, the rest of the cavalry picked up the scent of the escapees and followed them towards the narrow pathways of the mountains, where Boone was covering the rear. And so, the last order Scorpio ever issued his prized cavalry ended up destroying it.

"Drago, look!" Hypatia announced as the rest of the cavalry followed her pointing. There was some major disruption in the middle of the main line of contention between the trenches and the invaders. Every so often, a large slab of metal and numerous limbs would sail out over the heads of the invaders.

"He committed to attacking without the rest of his soldiers?" Dan exclaimed in disbelief. "What set him off?"

There was a moment of silence between the riders, before each and all of them exclaimed simultaneously. "Vulpes."

"…Well, we can just stand around and let our Caesar be killed," Damocles said as he snapped the reins of his hound. "So, who wants to go down there and come out a Senator?" Quintas asked as he joined his fellow riders on their charge toward the unguarded flank of their former brothers in arms.

Vulpes stood impassively as his new centurions approached him, filling him in on the progress of the attack, or lack thereof. As he expected, most of the initial waves were felled by the opening onslaught of the defenders. As the prime waves closed in, though, the defensive lines failed to "give" as much as he had anticipated. Having studied Hoover Dam and other such engagements at the behest of his previous master, he had been taught that the NCR was always willing to be pushed back when faced with enough pressure. But these initial troops, once they had forced their way through the skirmishers, weren't budging. Nor were the Amazons who flanked them, even as their rifles gave way to machetes and the legionaries found themselves fighting in the very trenches they were seeking to overwhelm.

At least Jefferson finally saw fit to commit his forces, launching his airborne marauders behind their lines. Vulpes was annoyed at how little the Onager was supporting him outside of such actions, as their initial rocket volley was largely a dud, despite successfully dislodging the opening skirmishers. Speaking of, it appeared that the clanner contingent of the AEG had regrouped and was pressing in on the southern flank of his troops. Vulpes had promised his commanders that the alliance that faced them was fragile and only one good shock away from shattering. Well, Vulpes had brought forth as much shock as he was able to muster, and so far not a single clanner had turned. So it looked like Vulpes was going to have to personally find and mount the head of this "Sovereign" on a pike if he wanted to guarantee the future loyalty of his army for however long he could tolerate its presence any further.

One of the commanders, Valerius, approached with a worried expression. "Sire, Centurions Didacus, Cicero, and Domitus have fallen! Franciscan is missing and Basilian is wounded!"

"Do not withdraw!" Vulpes snapped. "Maintain pressure on all available fronts. Offer up immediate centurion status to anyone who can deliver the head of an enemy commander! Keep pushing forward!"

It was then that a severed arm came falling from the sky, landing across Valerius's shoulder before tumbling towards Vulpes' feet. Looking up, he saw the cluster of legionaries before him beginning to break as a snarling beast of a warrior stormed toward Vulpes. Flanked by a number of non-Legion-looking bodyguards, the warrior looked aside as he noticed a small firing line preparing to engage with him. He pointed his finger up, and they shot over his head while his companions opened up on the legionaries.

Valerius, remembering Vulpes' promise, took both his axes and charged towards the False Caesar as his attention was occupied elsewhere. "DEATH TO THE FALSE CAESAR!" he screamed as he raised both his weapons and prepared to bring them down on Barabbas. Barabbas, having been announced to the idiot's presence by his screaming, immediately turned and shot out a hand to clench Valerius's throat. Before Valerius could react further, Barabbas brought his face up to his own and roared, his psyker abilities augmenting his presence as it had been during his mad charge through the traitor legion. Valerius experienced what seemed to him to be an eternity of one man's boundless hatred thrust upon his very soul, having been judged and found unworthy by something far greater than a mere peon like him could possibly understand.

Barabbas dropped the sobbing and broken wretch in a heap by his feet, his attention now completely focused on Vulpes. In his wrath, Barabbas brought his blade behind him as he leaped into the air, preparing to crash down into Vulpes with everything he had. Unfortunately for him, four red lights began to emit from around Vulpe's seemingly empty vicinity, and the resulting streams of light brought him to the ground as several assaultrons decloaked and readied to protect their charge.

The Mojave Air Patrol had finally arrived. Gordon looked down at the bloody melee beneath her, seeing the 5th Heavy Armor engaging with a number of these new Midwest units that she had never seen before. The surprises didn't stop there, as her hull was nearly pelted by machine-gun fire, and turning before her, she could see a swarm of angry turbines charging to intercept her.

"ALL WINGS, FIRE AT WILL!" Kat Gordon announced as her squadron broke off to engage. Most of the Mojave Air Patrol had never gone up against such a force. Kat Gordon was not one of them. While she had never fought against the Midwest Brotherhood, it was purely because she had BEEN a member of the Midwest Brotherhood. So, while many of these contraptions were new, she understood how they worked, conceptually. These twenty-some swarming turbines were purely defensive for the Onager, and apart from their speed had no defensive measures whatsoever. As such, while her own squadron would engage with them, she ordered the rest of the wings to clear away the hovering attack craft from their ground forces. Finally, she ordered Pearl to hang back and help clear the front line, and under no circumstances engage with the Onager, tempting as it was as a target. The electrified defensive shield around it, however, held even her aggression at bay. However, the tesla shield surrounding it would prove to be insurmountable for most, it was largely merely a problem, and for some, problems were meant to be solved.

Barabbas forced himself to his feet, ignoring the stinging pain he felt in his chest as his armor felt like it boiled against his skin. As he came to, he looked up only to have a metallic pair of fists pummel into his skull while another grappled with him. As he struggled to break free, a sawed-off shotgun pressed itself against the cycloptic skull of his assailant and pulled the trigger. As the machine sputtered and fell to the ground, Sophia took a knife and severed the neck of the one holding him down while Ferra dumped some kind of oil into the found, forcing the machine to erupt in a cascade of sparks. The Boone twins and Federale fanned out while the rest of the assaultrons decloaked while Vulpes drew his gladius. Vulpes watched as one of the marshals ducked away while their partner plugged one of the assaultrons with a bullet. He watched as the federale ducked and weaved from the physical onslaught of another, only pulling out his baton to smash it into the laser cannon before it could fire. And he watched as Barabbas grabbed onto the head of one of the robots, gripping his fists into the skull until the red light began to glow, then taking the head and using it against Vulpes. Inculta managed to dodge the blast, even as it struck another assaultron and burned into a few veterans waiting behind him.

Vulpes turned to look at the veterans in anger. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! KILL THEM!" Then he saw their eyes. From the start, they did not see Vulpes as a worthy successor to Scorpio, only a replacement in their bid to sow terror and acquire power. Now, his primary obstacle was standing before him, and rather than fighting him in Legion fashion, he was begging for help. In such a case, it was likely that after intervening on his behalf, they would end up beheading him for his uselessness, as evidenced by his reliance on machines to protect him. Vulpes gritted his teeth at his circumstances and dependence on the idiots that surrounded him. So now he had to prove himself, yet again, to a bunch of skirt-wearing sexually deviant marauders! Fine! He would see to it that Barabbas would die and that these men would see what real leadership looked like when he killed every single female prisoner they captured. That would show them all.

As Barabbas ripped off the head of the assaultron, he looked up and blocked the oncoming gladius with his bracers. He then felt a sharp, painful blow against his wounded side as Vulpes fell back and two more assaultrons swarmed him. Barabbas never hated fighting more than he did right now, but at this point, it was the only thing driving him forward as he picked up his cleaver and let out a roar as he charged Inculta once more.

Jefferson watched in pleasure as another Mojave fighter fell crashing into the ground. His interceptors were hard at work punishing the encroaching aircraft, the Mojave pilots clearly unfamiliar with the intricacies of air-to-air combat. Still, they were putting up quite the fight, and his attack craft were left fairly defenseless against the fighters, almost as much as the legionaries whose frontlines were now being pummeled by the bomber-turned-gunship. It appeared Vulpes's army was about to buckle. A pity. He'd have to finish up and return to Dallas a hero, with or without Vulpes. At this point, it wasn't like there was anything anyone could do to stop him in any meaningful capacity.

The readings began to spike around his console. As the engineers and technicians began frantically trying to see what was going on, the tesla shield began to flare. Jefferson gripped his command throne as he could only think of one possibility. Someone had breached his defenses. "Keep us airborne and update me on any future developments," Jefferson announced as he rose and stormed towards the hanger. Once filled with the entirety of his arsenal, the hollow hanger echoed with the sounds of the blimp's mechanical heartbeat as he approached the ladder leading to the top of the Onager. Folding his arms, he allowed his utility pack's arms to scale the latter, as it was typically quicker that way.

Reaching the hatch, his own arms unlatched the door as it flung open. Poking his head out, he looked around until he saw a shimmering saucer tampering with one of his tesla coils. Pulling the entirety of his body from the hull, Jefferson prepared to unleash every tool he had at his disposal to eliminate this strange new intruder. Two screens containing what looked like eyes turned over to see him.

"…Impressive machine you have developed here, I mean truly. Crass as it is, there's an element of elegance that I cannot help but admire," the old voice spoke over the receiver. "A shame what it's being used for, and almost a pity what I'm doing to it."

"You best leave before I kill you," Jefferson felt his lip curl behind his mask.

"Oh, and I was hoping for some civilized discussion," Mobius replied, sounding dejected. "We could have worked miracles together, you and I. Well, if you are so insistent, then you can deal with someone else. Toodles."

The disc began to shimmer and dissipate, while some distance away, another flash came down from the heavens and struck the side of the Onager. Jefferson turned to look and saw, standing atop the hull of his flagship, was a one-horned deathclaw, looking around in confusion.

"What?! I- where am I?! Where's all the talking human tools?!" He jumped up and down as his concern grew. "Why can't I float anymore?!" He glanced forward as Jefferson emerged completely from the hull of his ship. "…I don't like the way you're looking at me," Johnny growled as he extended his claws.

The centurion swung his gladius into the pit, catching a trooper off-guard as it sunk into his belly. All of the killing had gotten him thrown into a frenzy, and he swung behind him only to have his blade intercepted by the stock of a shotgun. The old man holding it glared at him as they stood locked in combat.

"…By Mars," the centurion breathed. "Hostis Publicus! COURIER!"

Lars knocked the weapons out of their hands and punched the centurion in the face. Judging from his age, he must have been one of the golden oldies who fought at the Dam. Groaning, he picked his rifle off the ground as Cass fired another volley of shots down the trench, dropping a veteran legionary before they could bring an axe down on a fallen trooper.

"Man, if these were the guys Cali brought to the Dam, you might be out of a job," Cass grinned as she drew her knife and intercepted a legionary as they jumped into the trench.

"This Wallace guy actually knows how to pull off a meat grinder. Who'd've thunk that?" Lars replied as he picked up a fallen service rifle and began plugging into the approaching legionaries, ducking his head to avoid the oncoming shots. Looking back at Cass, he imagined her silver locks turning red. This was what he had been missing these past few years. Twenty years of domesticated living began to fall away, and once more he was the wasteland warrior of legend. Selfish as it may have been, this was the life he always wanted.

Barabbas swung another hateful blow at Inculta, missing as he tore into another assaultron. Sure enough, eventually, veteran legionaries made their way into the melee, to kill Barabbas and his followers if not so much to support Inculta. Carla suck her knife in an abdomen while Tobey cracked his rifle against the skull of another. Jimmy fought with one over a machete while Gael wrestled another to the ground. One had gotten ahold of Sophia, who in turn found himself with a face full of whatever horrid chemical Ferra had prepared. Whatever it was, Barabbas could now say that he now knew the noise eyeballs made when they popped. Barabbas barreled through the oncoming legionaries as he threw himself after Inculta, swearing that if it was the only act as Caesar he ever accomplished, it would be killing that man and his name once and for all.

Vulpes threw another body into his path as he tried to fall back. With his machines destroyed, he found himself out of options as his personal safety was jeopardized and his army was losing its resolve. By now he realized that Jefferson had no intention of helping Vulpes win the day when seeing him collapse would further his plans just fine. He had to locate escape, he just had to get back to the mountains. Abacus would cover for him, he thought not knowing what had recently transpired.

Barabbas saw Vulpes disappearing behind his men. He screamed out in anger as another machete dug itself into his dressed wound. With tears in his eyes, he reached out and seized something, anything that could help him.

Carla's arm immediately drew her pistol, her mind not realizing what was happening until she unloaded every shot she had in one particular direction. All six shots hit their targets, and one in particular hit true. Vulpes collapsed onto the ground, his healing fluid grinding his body to a stop as the unstoppable force closed in on him. Whirling around, Vulpes drew his gladius as he dug it right into Barabbas's re-opened wound, stopping the brute in his tracks as he spat up blood. Behind them, a machete brought down Gael while a bullet tore through Ferra, the survivors finding themselves backed together as the legionaries closed in on them. Further back, the AEG's lines began to buckle while Kim, out of ammo, used her machine gun as a club against the encroaching Steel Marauders. A wounded Tandi tried to rally her men to counterattack while Milligan lay motionless on the ground, dead.

"…Any final words, Caesar?" Vulpes taunted.

"…Die," Barabbas said.

Vulpes let out a slow chuckle at the futility of Barabbas's last breath. The machine that was V7-04 had accomplished its final mission. And Vulpes Inculta was there to revel in the glory. For a few seconds, before Vulpes sophistication began to turn against him. While V7-04 was a synth, the personality it had developed had expanded far beyond the parameters of what his creators could have envisioned. Despite knowing otherwise, Vulpes Inculta had regarded himself as a human first and foremost, and that human found himself with the same type of "wavelength" as the rest of humanity. In short, some small part of Vulpes Inculta had become a real boy, and as such, just for a moment, was as vulnerable to Barabbas's Commands as anyone else, and Barabbas had just unleashed the strongest psyker attack he had ever thrown against anything. When he realized what was happening as his consciousness began to fade, Vulpes Inculta began to scream, and so it was that the personality of Vulpes Inculta died then and there, leaving behind an empty husk awaiting orders that would never come.

The legionaries all turned to see Barabbas smashing and ripping into the body of the man who had become their replacement commander. Blood, oil, and some bluish fluid all rained about as Barabbas tore the synth limb from limb. Hands unclenching the pieces and parts from his hands, he turned as he glared at those who surrounded his bodyguards.

"…Who's next?" he seethed.

The blow torch burned into Johnny as the ripper bore into his shoulder. Johnny had lost a lot of blood against this metal monster, almost as much as he was able to immediately replace, but this creature lacked sport. And as much as Johnny wanted to knock him off this flying whatever, the metal monster's feet never left the hull, Johnny was unable to understand how fucking magnets worked.

Jefferson was running out of options. Everything he had thrown against this lizard had come up short. Every laser cutter, power saw, blow torch, nail gun, nothing slowed the lizard down. He couldn't even force the lizard off his craft without jeopardizing himself. Then he saw his opportunity as the energy surged behind the deathclaw. Activating his rocket pack, he slammed into the lizard and dragged him to the tesla barrier at the center of the Onager. As Johnny dug his claws into the ground, he felt the metal under his feet peel as he felt the static draw closer and closer to his scales.

Johnny braced himself as he took control of Jefferson for the briefest moment and reversed their positions, shoving the Reaver face first into the tesla barrier. Jefferson screamed for a few picoseconds before his vocal cords fried and the fuel in his pack ignited, sending Johnny flying away from the overload and towards the side of the airship. Digging his claws into the side, Johnny tried to prevent his fall, but all he was able to do was peel through the siding as he slowed his inevitable descent before the hull gave way and the lizard fell screaming onto the ground.

Kat saw the lightning shield of the Onager sputter and fade. "PEARL! YOU HAVE AN OPENING! BRING THAT THING DOWN NOW!" Pearl and her airwing advanced on the Onager. While her point defense was still active, without the tesla barrier to block oncoming munitions and aircraft, there was nothing they could do about the oncoming rockets, cannons, missiles, and machine guns. The aircraft strafed the near-helpless Onager as the crew could not make up its mind to either abandon ship or fight to the last. As a result, all hands were lost when the fuel lines erupted, and the Onager fell crashing onto the ground.

"…Looks like we've missed the fireworks," Tribune Evander muttered as their army approached the smoldering field of battle. Janus looked at his partner. "Those riders we found were rather forthcoming about what condition Scorpio's men would be in. Aleron, your thoughts?"

"…SECOND LEGION, CHARGE FORTH AND DEFEAT THE FOURTH LEGION," Tribune Aleron announced. "ALL LOOT FOUND IS YOURS TO KEEP, BUT DO NOT HARM ANY WHO OPPOSE THE FOURTH!"

The 2nd Legion let out a cry as they advanced towards the battlefield. Aleron wanted to join them, but his age dampened his enthusiasm for such martial pursuits. So, he could only watch in envy as these young legionaries went forth to make their own glory.

"Think Barabbas is still alive?" Janus asked.

"Surrounded by profligates like that, it would take a miracle," Evander muttered.

"Do you two doubt the capability of Caesar?" Aleron asked his contemporaries.

"I merely fear to inform Senorita Del Sol about any misfortune that should befall her betrothed," Evander replied, questionably sincerely.

Aleron ran his hand down his face. It was bad enough that there was now a small army of mercenaries occupying Dallas, but their client had been especially aggravating. Still, Ligia represented a significant political leverage that Dallas could not afford to squander, and he would see to it that Barabbas understood that when they reunited.

"…Well, if the regulars fall, someone's going to have to pick up their slack," Janus grinned. Evander picked up his rifle. "Care to join us, Aleron?"

Aleron looked down at the marching 2nd Legion and wondered if any of them had developed rivalries of their own, or if they had any rivals amongst the 4th Legion. If not, this new generation was really missing out. "…On me, you three. Let's see if there's still room for glory for us old men."

Amidst the carnage of the battle, Frost sat with a typewriter in his lap as he overlooked the carnage. While the estimates were still being compiled, the initial casualty readings were as followed:

NCR military: 129 KIA, 176 WIA

Judicial Marshals: 19 KIA, 23 WIA

Liberty Clans: 142 KIA, 193 WIA

Legios Amazonia: 93 KIA, 153 WIA

Mojave Air Marshals: 6 fighters lost in combat, the rest heading back in uncertain condition

4th Legion: 527 KIA, 931 WIA

Midwest BoS: 12 attack craft lost, twenty-four fighter-type craft lost or forced to land, 26 armored soldiers killed and 14 forced to surrender. And one entire airship with approximately fifty or so crew lost with all hands.

Barabbas's dog cavalry: No casualties, though Hypatia's wound reopened during combat.

Barabbas's personal retinue: Two KIA, One Caesar heavily wounded.

Tim stopped typing as he rubbed his eyes. What he witnessed was something he didn't want to share with anyone, but was glad he had been privy to. As the medical staff and anyone unhurt helped the wounded, and as Barabbas dragged his wounded body to meet with the new and hopefully friendly approaching legion, Frost quietly thanked whoever was watching over them that they had escaped with their lives intact.

Joseph's mind snapped awake as Melody entered the room with what smelled like what she could pass for Mojave Jambalaya. "…Tia helped me," was the first thing Melody said, almost like an admission.

"You didn't have to," Joseph tried to placate his wife.

"I never do, but, well, you could use all the help you can get," Melody smiled.

"…As ever," Joseph laughed. "…That radio downstairs, you, ah, find anything interesting on it?"

"…Well, I think if you listen closely enough, you can hear the faintest sounds of Johnny Guitar," Mel giggled.

"I hope he's doing OK," Joseph muttered.

"Hm?" Melody uttered.

"…Never mind," Joseph shook his head. "…I suspect we shall hear some good news soon. Bitter, but good."

"…Joseph, is there something you're not telling me," Melody set the bowl down on his lap as she put her hands on her hips.

"…The story isn't over yet, Mel. There's still some acts that need to play," Joseph replied, cryptically.

"…Joseph, if I don't get a straight answer, I'll stop doing that thing you like with your ears."

"Rosa's alive and the AEG won the Battle near Amarillo," Joseph replied, immediately and bluntly.

"…Great," Melody responded, caught off-guard. "…Do I want to know more?"

"…Probably not," Joseph solemnly replied.