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"Hell is empty, and all the devils are here."- William Shakespeare, The Tempest.

..::..

In the domed city of Elysion, behind its high walls and bustling streets, past the vibrant fields of produce, there at the heart of it lay the Obsidian Keep.

Built atop Vault 115, the birthplace of the Dominion, the towering citadel of black steel stood as a testament to the Dominion's tenacity and sophistication. Its baroque architecture was designed to emulate the order's rise to prominence from a dark era, and its impressive fortifications to represent the empire's hardy constitution. The long halls within held many recovered relics of the Old World, ranging from paintings and trophies as well as other museum pieces taken from various ruins in the Wasteland.

The Cerberian Guard, Stern's elite personal guard, named after the Greek mythological beast that guarded the gates of hell, watched over the Keep as it was home to both the High Marshal and the Council of Representatives.

Below them, the Vault acted as the main division headquarters for the Bishops, where they continued to explore new scientific wonders and discoveries, operating only under the sanctions of the High Marshal himself. Next to the Keep was the White Bastion, which was the primary base of the Dominion's military, its training center for recruits and home to the legendary Knights Division.

High Marshal Stern had just returned from a meeting with the Council, discussing their concerns for the welfare of the city and its inhabitants, when the South-Texan Expedition report arrived at his desk.

Making himself comfortable on his chair, Stern opened up his pip-pad and reviewed the report's contents. Lance, the High Marshal's pet dog, emerged from under the desk and sat next to his master. The large German Shepherd had been a gift from the Bishops Division for the High Marshal's 65th birthday, grown from a test tube in the same birthing chamber they used for the hybrids and trained by Stern personally since he was a pup.

Lance held the old and scarred tennis ball in his mouth, wagging his tail as he waited patiently for his master to notice him.

Stern looked down at him, saw the eagerness in the dog's eyes, and smirked. "Give it here." His hand reached for the ball, plucked it out of the dog's mouth, then let it sail through the air across the room.

Lance trotted to retrieve the ball, returning to the same spot to repeat the activity. His master, however, was too busy reading the report to notice him.

+++ South-Texan Expedition Report No.14, Date: Aug 24 2101 +++

Lieutenant Hope Weiss, serial no. 1141

We've reached the Texan Gulf Coast after 3 weeks of traversing the Golden Sea. Already, we've encountered some of the locals on our first day. No casualties. Lucky.

I've directed the team to establish a main base of operations in some old civilian radio station. Easy to defend, as preexisting structures still remain. There was, unfortunately, a gap in our defenses that a wandering group of waster cultists exploited. The situation was handled without any complications, and we've captured the fanatics for interrogation.

I've wrestled with the dilemma of gaining valuable intel on the region, but at least I gained some answers from these people.

They call themselves the Brotherhood of Steel, possibly some sort of quasi-religious cult. As far as the prisoners were wont to disclose their secrets, I've learned that the Brotherhood of Steel is actually an aggressively expanding faction in the Wasteland, and these prisoners were just one of many expeditionary groups sent to scout out the wastes.

Their alleged agenda is for the safeguarding of technologies. There is no way for me to ascertain how much of a threat these cultists pose to us, and so far I am hesitant to give in to my better judgement.

Any advice from Command would be appreciated, and by all means, make it soon.

+++END+++

An attached digital file containing all the findings, maps and charters that the team accumulated over the weeks was found inside the report. Copies had already been distributed to the Rooks and Bishops. The High Marshal had the final say on the matter, but Stern preferred to hear about their opinions to help him make a sound decision.

Lance was still waiting on him when he looked down, and Stern gave his head a good rub before obliging his wish. The dog happily chased after the bouncing ball as the High Marshal contemplated on his next move.

"Safeguarding technologies, huh? From whom, I wonder?"

Paladin Brand rubbed his wrists to get rid of the soreness from all the chaffing on the cuffs. The soldiers, together with Lt. Weiss, came to their cell and moved to free them from their bonds. The knights, along with him and Scribe Karter, stood up and let them do their work.

"What's going on?" Brand asked suspiciously, not too happy about the events that transpired recently. The Dominion had taken their weapons and armor away from them, locked them up in kennels like animals for days, and interrogated them just shy of torture in hopes of extracting any valuable intel on the Brotherhood and its intentions.

They didn't get much, but it was enough to wound his pride. Understandably, he was still angry.

"You and your people are being released, on orders from Command." Hope said to him, "I shall be frank. The High Marshal would like relations between our people to start out without violence."

"A little late for that, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed, but it isn't too late to let bygones be bygones." She replied, "Simply put, if you and your men are willing to forget this bit of unpleasantness, I and my people will allow you to remain in this base as guests. You will be treated fairly, and will remain under our protection so long as you remain within these walls."

"You..." Brand took a moment to rein in his temper. The sheer arrogance of the strangers, of this Dominion, was just mindboggling. They treated them with hostility, all of a sudden change their tune- and expect them to just forget their initial treatment? "You've got a lot of nerve talking about relations, woman. Give me and my men what belongs to us- we are out of here!"

"As you wish." Hope shrugged, showing just how much she cared about their former prisoners. "Offer still stands."

Ross snarled, "Fuck you."

The Dominion soldiers moved in, ready to bring their weapons to bear, stopping only at the behest of their commander. "Right this way. And do remain at your best behavior, my men are still twitchy. It'd be a shame if an accident happens on your way out."

"Alright, I think you've made your point rather clear." Brand spoke on behalf of his men, including Ross. "We're just...eager to return to our mission. I'm sure you understand."

"Ah, now we're making some progress."

The Brotherhood suited up, grabbed their gear, and headed out of the radio station gates without another word. Hope, relieved that they've chosen to leave, had the gates securely locked and the guard doubled.

"Can't say I'm sad to see them go."

Hope looked up to see her brother Dex sitting on top of one of the Centaur IFV's. She reached behind her armor to rub at her breasts where they chafed from her every move, "No matter, they're not our problem now."

"So what's next for us? Any news from the Marshal?" Dex asked as he jumped down from the armored car.

"Yeah, some good news for a change. An armored convoy's been dispatched to reinforce this position, they arrive in a week." Hope smiled at him, "I gotta say, little brother, you've exceeded my expectations. My impression of you has definitely changed."

"For the better, I hope?"

"Of course, although there are some concerns I have about you of a personal nature that I'd like to discuss in private." Hope looked around to see if they were well beyond the reach of prying ears, "It's about your girlfriend Rose."

"I knew you were gonna bring that up someday." Dex sighed. "Alright, as much as I'd like to tell you to mind your own business, I'll humor you for this one. Shoot."

"I've asked around the base, and I found out that Rose is actually pretty well known, particularly among the veterans." Hope said, "I'm concerned that she's using you for her own gain."

"Hope, it's not what you think." Dex defended Rose, "If you knew her, and what she had to do to get here- what she had to do get me here- you'd know she's more than just another whore."

Hope folded her arms across her chest, "Alright then. Why don't you help me understand?"

"Well, see..." Her brother rubbed the back of his neck as he searched for the proper words to describe his little misadventure back in Carlon, "I had a beef with this fellow bounty-hunter named Carver. He wanted in on a bounty that I claimed before he did, and he's been looking for a way to get back at me ever since. After you left me in the Chop Shop, he paid me a visit."

"What happened next?"

"He made it clear he'd hurt me however way he can, said he'd come for Rose." Dex heaved another sigh, still finding the memory of the experience upsetting. "She barely made it out alive when he did."

"I hope you made sure he got his." Hope said, sharing her brother's anger to some degree.

"I did." Dex smiled a bit, "But it got me in trouble with the law. A judge caught me red-handed, brought me in to answer for my crime. I could have been executed, you know."

"Well, all I can say about that is, it's one hell of a wake-up call." Hope replied, surprised at how close her brother was to death that night and relieved that he was still around to talk about it. "I'm guessing this is where Rose comes in."

"She talked to the judge, they worked out something, and it got me out."

The faint, growing smirk of begrudging approval disappeared almost immediately from her face. "Oh, I'm sure she did."

Dex rolled his eyes in frustration, "Again, it's not like that. Judge Greene's not a crooked judge, he found a way to make my kill legal. He officialized a bounty on Carver and his boys, and it set me free. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him, and if it wasn't for Rose."

"I see." Hope glanced around and saw the woman in question as she walked around the base, exchanging pleasantries with the soldiers. "I'm not too proud to not apologize for judging her too harshly. I'm sorry."

"She's a keeper. If that doesn't earn her your respect, I don't know what will."

"I'm just concerned for you, Dex." Hope put a hand on her brother's shoulder, "Always have been. It's why I tried to get you into this team in the first place. I'm glad I got exactly what I wanted out of you."

"Really? What's that?"

The lieutenant rubbed his arm affectionately, as she'd always done back when they were younger, when Dex was having a bad day and she'd come to comfort him. "You showed that you can still aspire to things other than your own gain, showed that you can love something other than yourself. It doesn't get any better than this."

"Honestly, I'm happy that you never stopped trying." Dex replied. "But...would it trouble you so much if I asked you to do the same for Rose? Get to know her, she just might surprise you."

"I don't know about that, Dex." The woman said with a chuckle, "It would be unprofessional of me."

"Ah, don't give me any of that crap. You're never one to shy from meeting new people." Her brother contested, "I'm not asking you to get to know her better, I'm asking you to just...get to know her better. Y'know, just talk. See what happens."

"I guess it couldn't hurt."

"Look, there she is now." Dex nudged her, "Don't worry, she won't bite."

There wasn't anything the lieutenant had that demanded her immediate attention at the moment, so she humored her brother's suggestion. She approached the younger woman and cleared her throat. "Hey Rose?"

The brunette turned around and gave Hope a warm smile that sent butterflies flying around her stomach, "Yes, lieutenant?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to have a beer with me."

Rose nodded, letting her lead the way. "Oh yes, I would like that very much."

The two disappeared back into the building, with the whole base staring in disbelief at what they just saw. Sgt. Sterling had to cover for the lieutenant by barking at the soldiers to get back to work.

Deep in the mountain hideout of the Jagged Maw, the rocky shelter that was the Scarbrand Badlanders' home, a group of raiders on dirt-bikes escorting a large garbage-truck rolled into the small mountain pass that led into their base. They weaved past the gates of poorly welded scrap, where vigilant snipers kept watch for intruders. Past the crude booby traps that lined every corridor of the narrow mountain pass, past the spires where dozens of corpses were impaled to bake under the glaring light of the desert sun.

They whooped and cackled madly, letting off a burst from their weapons every now and then to announce their arrival. The raiders disembarked and moved to help stow the cargo within the truck. The massive machine, once intended for moving and discarding the wastes of the Old World, now transported a different cargo than what it was meant for in another era.

Men, women and children were led by the chains on their necks to enter the Maw, that they might await their fates in the cages within.

Two men dragged a woman slave from her kennel to entertain the triumphant slavers, a reward from their beloved leader for services rendered. She was pretty, for a coastlander. Most of the people living in the tribal settlements they raided barely had anything to eat, but this one had a lot of meat on her bones.

The men grinned with lecherous glee as they tore off her rags and fixed a ring gag on her mouth. Too many slaves had the tendency to bite, it was too much work trying to get them to behave, and it lessened their worth to almost nothing when they started pulling their teeth out. Ring gags were effective, and cheap.

And their defiance made the sex even sweeter.

Mad Moody, leader of the Badlanders, peered down from his window carved out of the mountain face to watch the scene below. All twenty of the raiding party gathered around the slave, intent on using her thoroughly before the day was done, and perhaps even more after that. "Don't ruin her too much, boys! There's still some profit to be made with used slaves!" He guffawed.

He returned to his latest customer, "So, everything's in order?"

Black Tom, a Lexxer trader who'd just about finished his deal with the Badlander warlord, adjusted his old and weathered cowboy hat. "Hearing that ungodly screeching outside, I find myself questioning the quality of your produce, Moody."

"You mean the girl out there? Don't worry about her, them girls I sold off to ya are legit untouched." Mad Moody was in an agreeable mood that day, but it could change in an instant as his name so heavily implied. His guards were just as twitchy as their boss, and hearing Black Tom talking him down like that made them a tad trigger-happy.

Black Tom wasn't easily frightened, and he came prepared. Years of dealing with slavers like this one helped him with future encounters, "Regardless, I'm going to have to inspect the merchandise before finalizing the deal."

And just like that, Moody's tune changed in a snap. "You calling me a liar, cowboy?"

Black Tom knew where this was headed, and seized his chance before the odds fell out of his favor. He let his coat drift open to reveal several satchel charges attached to where his body armor should have been. "Depends. Are you one?"

Moody's mad grin disappeared, and he pushed himself slowly back, away from the trader. His men were slow to realize this, but they got the picture eventually. Their guns were still on the Lexxer, but they were more reluctant to pull the trigger now.

"What, you think I didn't come prepared?" The trader said, "I want this deal to be done with, but if you're gonna keep threatening your customers, I'm gonna be all too eager to blow us all to hell. So what's it gonna be, Moody? We still doing this?" He was counting on the Badlanders' shared desire for survival, it was more effective than anything he could come up with. Tom hated having to do it, but the quality of his merchandise made all the difference in the caps he could earn.

Moody frowned, growling at Black Tom. "Alright ya crazy cowboy. My men will show you the way down."

"No." The Lexxer said firmly, "You're coming with me. Show me in person what you're selling, then we'll wrap this up. Non-negotiable."

"Grrr...fine."

The big, fat, bald-headed slaver rose up and led the way to the inner sanctum of the Jagged Maw. A group of women slaves were lined up in front of the Lexxer, who took a moment to put a medical latex glove on his hand. There were five of them, all ranging from the ages of eighteen to twenty. The slavers had placed crude bomb collars around their necks to keep them docile, and stripped them bare for the trader to examine.

He made the inspection himself. First, he started with their eyes and mouths. His rough hands groped and kneaded their breasts, then proceeded to do the same to their asses. When he found those to his satisfaction, he inspected their legs. Parting their thighs, he used his gloved hand to pry at the fleshy folds, to see if they indeed remained untouched. The women struggled to keep themselves from squealing in discomfort as the man freely explored their nethers like one would with cattle.

"We good?" Moody asked.

Black Tom nodded, moving to take the girls out for a ride. "I'm leaving a case full of the caps I promised. Don't try to double-cross me, Moody, the case is also rigged to blow should you try anything."

"Fucking Lexxers with their fancy gadgets..." Moody muttered as the trader left with his merchandise on an old military truck. When he was gone, the slaver turned to one of his lieutenants. "Track him down, I wanna know where he stays so I can go there and teach him a lesson."

"Shouldn't be too hard, boss. He lives in the Lexington-"

"Just do it! Alright?" Moody yelled, "And get someone good with 'splosives that can see about getting that case he left open- without blowing us all to pieces!"

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