Alaskan Federation Somewhere amidst the frozen plains.

Deep in the permafrost farther than the patrolled lands that offer safety lies a place between North and South the Mid Lands. It was a village protected only by it's own where huts dug deep within the earth and ice serve as the only outposts to warn against danger, which although present was far from civilization and the bands of roaming raiders. No only the outcasts presented a threat those who broke law and slew brothers; here the wilds were tough grasses few and fish plenty, whaling was king. As a young villager rolled a wood barrel among the pile he shook a waxy mucus like substance from his fingers as his brother stood above him on the ramparts if one could call them that with the wood frozen and ancient taken from forests even farther then they. Uther the guard one of many and Oolie the one propping the barrel of whale oil that would eventually be taken next week as per monthly agreement with the Rangers who in return exchanged goods and medical supplies for the valuable fuel source; both watch the plains keeping eye on any smokestacks and strangers who approach.

As one such stranger makes her way towards the spiky wooden gate Uther notes the garb she clothes herself in, a long white jacket with blue tinted lenses for her military helmet. "Ranger." He said in muffled tone as he rushed to the gate controls and met another guard. "Think they're here to investigate the trouble?"

"Surely." Uther said as he yanked back on the lever.

The stranger walked through nodding only once as she took off her helmet revealing her fair skin and blue eyes, while Uther walked up gun in hand. "You here about the sacked warehouse?" To his surprise the woman who looked even younger than he shook her head and began rubbing her palms as they looked back. "Why are you here then?"

The woman removing the gloves that kept her fingers from freezing removed a notepad from her pouch.. I wander, you have trouble I look into it. She pointed towards the handwritten note as she held it to the guard's eyes.

"Not a talker, that's rare." He motioned for her to follow as he led her towards a broken down warehouse of corrugated metal with the doors barely attached to their hinges. "Started happening about a month back, every couple days something will be missing, food, wood, a basket ball. All odds and ends like someone didn't know what they were stealing, could be an animal; always tracks, big ones."

Lifting her pencil and softly writing again. Will see what I find, after fire. I need warmth and have MRE to cook.

Uther read her hastily penned message and pointed. "The town longhouse is just over that way, if you need some water we have some to spare."

I am Fontaine, much thanks.

Uther read and said, "Uther." as she slowly put away her notepad and stuffed it in her pack. As he left her to investigate the warehouse the other guard spoke. "Odd one yeah, crossbow and sword weird combination; think she even has a gun?"

"Not sure, didn't see one. Badge looks genuine and that armor isn't fake so she must know how to defend herself. Let's hope she finds something and tracks the beast down. Can't loose people wandering out on the frozen wastes, don't want the Ranger to get hurt either but that's what they do and they're better trained than we." With a sigh Uther and his fellow guard walked back to their posts to watch over the village.

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The voices in the prophets head had a clear, soft tone, as he made his way towards the great hole, right above the Monolith, where he would be able to preach to the masses. The roaring of the bell seemed silent, in the sea of voices, lost like a distant, half forgotten memory.

The man, that once was Anthony Dunwich cast them aside, as he stepped into the opening, feeling the eyes of thousands on him. There was a faint smell of blood, gunpowder and fear in the air, as the trogs seemed to have feasted on all, who came to close to the monolith, who lured them all. How many where it? Thousands? Ten of thousands? He no longer needed his eyes, for he could feel their presence, better then any orbs of flesh could tell him. How frickle his human body had been, back when he was Anthony, back when he was so naive and unknowing. Before he had seen the sole truth of this world, the Truth of the Monolith!

"FAITHFUL!" His voice roared, just like the bellow of the bell, and just like it, it affected the masses below. Thousands of knees bended, as they fell down, the palms of their hands pressed together, and raised above their heads, in silent devotion. Even the degenerated Trogs and Ghouls seemed to fell silent, their effulgence eyes laying glaring at the Prophet, right above the monolith in Blasphemous Devotion.

For a moment, a tickle of Humanity ran through the Prophets spine. A glimmer of pride, pride of his Tenebrous Power, far beyond anything he could have ever dreamed of, back when he had just been a Water Merchant. A power beyond anything from this world! But then he collected himself, recalling that this blasphemous devotion was not to him, but to the Monolith, and its Creator, the one, unspeakable horror, that lurked beyond. A shudder of familiar fear ran down the prophets spine, before he raised his voice again.

"He who lures beyond has a demand for us! A demand, everyone of us must, and will obey! Nobody of us shall linger, nobody of us shall rest! We, his tools on this world, shall carve his name across every stone, every tree and every soul! We shall honor him, be it in our first scream or in our dying breath! But, there are those, who not share our devotion...
For a moment, there were screams of anger, red and roaring, as accursed devotion was unleashed, and the voices of the Faithful rang through the city. But once more, they died down, as the Prophet raised his hand.

"They, who call themselves the "Brotherhood of Steel" have dared to march against us! To march against Ug-Qualtoth himself! They, who call themselves the "Integrated Republic of Detroit" dare to encroach us! THEY DARE TO DENY UG-QUALTOTH!"
Both fists of the prothet raised in the air, as he screamed towards the masses, his voice roaring through all of the holy city, recorded and boosted by thousands of speakers, and the Radio Stations. Once more, there was a spark of chaos among the masses, but once more the Prophet silenced them, as he raised his hand.

"I call on you! Every single one of you! You shall deliver his Wrath, his crimsion fury! The same fury that has already crushed so much in its path! I call on you...TO DESTROY THEM ALL! I CALL ONTO ALL OF YOU, I CALL FOR A CRUSADE AGAINST OHIO AND ALL LAND THAT LIES BEYOND!
I CALL FOR A CRUSADE AGAINST THE BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL, AN AGAINST THE REPUBLIC OF DETROIT!"

Breathless, the Prophet glared down onto the masses, his empty eye-sockets twiching, as he was confronted with the wall of sound.

Ug-Qualtoths Mortal Wrath was unleashed...

Ohio would burn...

Simon Barnaky - The Gourmand

After finishing his sentence, Barnaky, or to be more precise, the robot he was speaking through, suddenly froze in place. After about a minute, Marin leaned towards the robot.

"My Lord", Martin whispered, "is something wrong?"

Another minute then passed, then the robot finally began to move again, looking over at Martin.

"Kimball is dead", Barnaky whispered back so only Martin could hear. "Lucius lured him into a ambush outside Phoenix and wiped out his whole force. The recovery group at Monthan-Davis got a drone out there and confirmed a large NCR force was massacred. Also, Graham has gassed the NCR again...this time they hit one of their main camps" Barnaky then grabbed a notepad and wrote out a note, then handed it over to Martin. "Give this to Titus...I'm sure Lucius would want him to be the one to make the announcement."

Martin unfolded the note and read it:

NCR incursion force ambushed outside Phoenix by Legions of Caesar Lucius and Legatus Aurelius. All killed or captured. Kimball is dead. Relay news to convention.
PS - this message was received by courier at one of our listening posts in Arizona about three hours ago. the message bore the seal of Legate Aurelius and has been confirmed authentic. Drone reconnaissance has confirmed a battle took place approximately fifteen miles southwest of Phoenix this morning, with heavy losses to NCR armored forces and Legion forces bearing the standards of Legio I Arizona were observed in possession of the field. In addition, a second cloud attack was launched on NCR Camp Delta around the same time, surviving NCR forces there have withdrawn Westward. -Barnaky

Martin folded the note back up, got up and approached Titus.

"Queastor", Martin said quietly as he handed the note to the younger man, "The Lord-Paladin sends his regards, and requested that I bring you this message. It is a message received from your front lines in Arizona. He feels the honor of delivering it to the convention is, by right, yours."

The map in front of him had been set as accurately as it could be. Alone in his tent, except for a steady fiddle player in the corner, he pored over a map of his surroundings. Every settlement and faction in central Oklahoma as of the past 6 months, reverified by Ranger scouts. He prided himself on his careful maintenance of an information network screening his every move, but there were things that just weren’t possible like they were in the old days. His men couldn’t be sure of the tribal makeup of Oklahoma city, or if there were any Midwestern observers or outposts. Even though his army was strong enough to face anything, he wanted the operation as clean as possible. There were a large number of settlers traveling with them from New Dallas, eager to set up new homes and caravan routes north to the Midwest.

He sipped steaming Keynesian coffee as he shifted his thoughts. While the wasteland’s powers were focused on the southwestern conflict or the cult, little notice had been given to his force, as far as he understood. It was going exactly as Governor Harris wanted. While he was a New Dallasian through and through, the plan that had come from Harris’s office was a good one. The assault was timed to more or less coincide with the convention, taking Oklahoma City before the Midwest really knew what was happening, and then offer some control of the region to them: an olive branch on Texan terms. While he still questioned the idea of cooperating with the armored devils, it had to be done, according to Harris, because of the NCR’s decline.

He remembered that he needed to go reiterate terms with the Angels of War Harris had hired out to him. He exited his tent and made his way over to the other side of camp, where the Angels of War were camped. The other forces he had at disposal were 4,000 regulars, 750 professionals, 300 cavalry, and 150 Texan Rangers. The supply lines had been difficult this far north, but manageable. The troops were exercising in space between the tents currently and they saluted as he passed.

He came to the tent and greeted the guard. “Howdy. I’m here to speak to the commander.”, he said casually.



“Goddamn they’re fast…”, Adam Piler drawled under his breath as he hurtled after the hellions. He had clawed his way to what he thought was the top of tech, only to be nearly outdone in his first non practice engagement by some spaceship looking jet.

Only nearly… fancy equipment wasn’t everything

“Situation?, over”, Teagan asked starkly over comms.

“Nothing’s changed, over”, he responded

Need to remember to be quiet on missions with her…

“They’re still heading towards Albuquerque. No other NCR troops since the last convoy. Any orders to engage?, over”, he continued.

“None. We just need to keep track of them and take pictures of their fueling station, and then retreat immediately, over.”

“Understood, over.”

In theory, it wasn’t harder than any other training mission. But there were more lives on the line than theirs this time.... He dispelled the thoughts and refocused on the silver shape ahead.



"My state of existence has enabled me to take a long view of things...something Governor Harris and I have in common”

That was true, in a sense. He remembered some of the pre-war holovids about China, even though he was young when the Great War happened. They were some of the only things to watch in the family bunker. While propagandistic to be sure, they showed what happened to orders like the Midwest’s. To those who played at being philosopher kings. Their people starved and their nation crumbled, while they paraded around their “achievements”.

After his last appeal, the Legion-Brotherhood-House alliance primarily had the floor. Mostly backing up their anti NCR position. He had the reports on the NCR armies the night before. Kimball had made arrogant risks, and would pay the price. But that didn’t invalidate the NCR’s democracy. There was a dangerously violent declaration from Pennsylvania, which also prematurely announced the plans for the Prosperity Sphere. The violent outburst made him wonder for a second why he was bothering to work with them, yet he knew there could be safety and monetary and benefit to such an alliance. Still, if the Pennsylvanians proved too volatile and violent to uphold the Sphere’s principles…

House was just finishing his rhetoric, and if nothing else happened after that he would announce his plans for Oklahoma. “The rest of you can hide behind beautiful ideologies as much as you’d like, but Titus Crassius is right. Lucius will stay upright for longer than most of you because he has made the decisions that have kept he and his people alive…If you’d like to witness the fate of democracy, I implore you to look out the windows.”

If you want to see the fate of ‘enlightened’ kings like yourself, Mr. House, I implore you to read a history book. Because there’s nothing left of them but dust.

“Mr. President. A radio transmission from General Shu of the NCR. He requested you”, a Ranger said quietly as he approached from behind.

He nodded, and moved to whisper in Angela’s right ear. “Keep an eye on progress. Don’t be afraid to discuss with them. If we’re too quiet, they’ll take it as a sign of weakness.”

She simply nodded, while remaining hawkishly focused on everyone. The girl was good at observation, that was sure. He went with the ranger to a transmitter that had been set up in a backroom for just an occasion like this.

“This is President Harris. How can I be of assistance?”

Titus Crassus, Quaestor of The Legion

"Queastor", Martin said quietly as he handed the note to the younger man, "The Lord-Paladin sends his regards, and requested that I bring you this message. It is a message received from your front lines in Arizona. He feels the honor of delivering it to the convention is, by right, yours."

With a curious expression, Titus took the note from the aged Brotherhood scribe, "Thank you," he replied simply and opened the note. He couldn't help but let a grin crawl across his face as he read the report. He gave another nod to Brother Martin and then stood up,

"Honored delegates," he said, "If I might have the floor. I have just received news from the war in Arizona. The Legions of Caesar Lucius and his Legate have attacked and destroyed the NCR incursion force led by President Kimball. President Kimball Jr. of the NCR is confirmed to be among the dead."

With that, Titus sat down, allowing the delegates to talk among themselves or simply contemplate this new development.

------

Legion Camp of Legio I Arizona

"This way, quickly!"

The command of Legatus Aurelius was obeyed swiftly by the Praetorians carrying the stretcher which held the gravely wounded Caesar. They carried his body quickly through the camp and towards Caesar's grand tent at the center. The Legate and his Centurions had done their level best to keep the news of Caesar's injury a secret, but word had spread quickly through the camp. Legionaries had begun to tell each other stories of having seen Caesar himself riding towards the NCR President and skewering him with his own spear before falling. Silently, they sent up prayers to whatever God or gods they honored for the deliverance of their leader.

As the Praetorians approached, the tent flap opened to reveal Caesar's wife, Hannah, waiting anxiously for her wounded husband's arrival.

"Put him down gently on the bed," she told them. And carefully they lifted him off the stretcher and laid him down. Hannah rushed to his side. Caesar's armor had been removed, and his body bandaged as best the battlefield surgeons could to try and stabilize him, but he needed a real doctor: and a miracle no doubt. He was unconscious and Hannah took her husband's hand in her own.

"He fell valiantly. As a Son of Mars should," The Legate offered, "With the blood of his enemy on his spear."

Fighting back tears, Hannah turned back to the Aurelius, "He's not dead yet. Send for the doctor. Ask him to come to the tent at once."

"The healers are already.."

"Not your battlefield butchers or tribal wise-women," Hannah chided him, "A real doctor. The New Canaanites in the camp...ask for Dr. Thomas to come at once."

Aurelius raised an eyebrow but did nothing more than nod in reply. Years ago, perhaps he might have struck the woman for her insolence for daring to presume to order him. But things were different now. She was a Legion woman, and the wife of Caesar no less. He couldn't lay a finger on her. Instead, he exited the tent and ordered some of the Praetorians to go to the New Canaanite quarter in the camp and send for Dr. Thomas. The rest, he ordered to stay here and protect their Caesar with their life.

Minutes ticked by as Hannah gripped Lucius's hand tightly and felt his labored breath as his chest heaved weakly up and down. She then heard the cloth of the tent being pulled back again and turned to find a thin mustached man wearing a well-worn black suit with spectacles and a pocket-watch chain dangling from his left-most jacket pocket. It was as if the man had stepped right out of the 19th century. In his right hand, he carried a bag with a cross stitched on the side.

"Hannah?" He began, and then muttered "Oh...oh dear...." when he saw the wounded Caesar, "I'd heard the rumors but...I..."

"Nevermind that now Thomas....please...you must help him."

The doctor sat his bag down next to her and began pulling forth various medical instruments, "I'll do what I can Hannah, I promise..." He said.

---------

Hours passed beside the Caesar's bed, and the doctor had begun packing his medical supplies up into his case. Caesar was still unconscious, but he'd been given a slew of medicines to help treat his condition. Even still, the prognosis was not looking good.

As he stood up, Hannah reached out and grabbed his hand, "Will he live?"

"I can't be sure. I've done all I can, but he's suffered grievous injuries. Medical science has done all it can for him. Its in the Lord's hands now." He said as he tried to comfort her, "I'll return in an hour or two and change his bandages. I need to return to grab some more supplies. Watch over him and send for me if anything changes."

Hannah only nodded as the doctor exited the tent,

"Please God, help him." She prayed silently, and placed a necklace with a small cross around Lucius's neck, "You have to live," She whispered to her husband, "For your child..."

She then lay her head down on the bed and fell asleep, exhausted as she was.

@Wampower

General Shu, Shady Sands

"This is General Shu. I suppose by now you have heard what has happened, suffice to say things will be getting rather ugly in the NCR in the next few weeks. There is going to be a lot of house cleaning and a lot of changes - by that point, I have to ask a favor from you President Harris," spoke Shu, as the conductor called that they would be arriving in Shady Sands in the next ten minutes.

"Namely - before he died President Kimball deployed several units along your border. Now with the declaration from Mr. House and Vegas - we are unable to get them out of there, without leaving several tons of equipment for looters and other bandits to get," spoke Shu, his voice sounding rather tired.

"I am asking, if it is possible - for the Texas Confederation to temporarily occupy our base-camp and provide our soldiers the opportunity to spend their mandatory leave there?" asked General Shu. It was better than handing their base over to New Vegas or some other raider tribe. This way - the soldiers could be taken care of, in their territory. While those in the NCR and Shady Sands worked things out and got them back home.

"I know this might be asking a lot - but at this moment, I fear that the New California Republic is at its lowest in recorded history-" he spoke, soon hearing several protestors even to the train station. All of them shouting 'down with NCR'. Sadly one of the pieces of democracy - the right to protest. "-not to mention, it looks like people are a few days away from rioting against the Government."

"I know, this is might seem much. But your the only other nation I'd trust with military equipment...or at least the only other democratic state in the entire American wasteland that has the right of protest and open discussions," he finished. "So do we have a deal?"

"This is General Shu. I suppose by now you have heard what has happened, suffice to say things will be getting rather ugly in the NCR in the next few weeks. There is going to be a lot of house cleaning and a lot of changes - by that point, I have to ask a favor from you President Harris," spoke Shu, as the conductor called that they would be arriving in Shady Sands in the next ten minutes.

“Yes it was just announced, and I’m aware of the situation your forces are in, Harris replied.

"Namely - before he died President Kimball deployed several units along your border. Now with the declaration from Mr. House and Vegas - we are unable to get them out of there, without leaving several tons of equipment for looters and other bandits to get," spoke Shu, his voice sounding rather tired. It reminded Harris of his own weariness.

"I am asking, if it is possible - for the Texas Confederation to temporarily occupy our base-camp and provide our soldiers the opportunity to spend their mandatory leave there?" asked General Shu.

Harris had been expecting something like this might happen when the reports had come in the night before of the situation in New Mexico. “Yes I think we can accommodate them.”

"I know this might be asking a lot - but at this moment, I fear that the New California Republic is at its lowest in recorded history-" Shu said, soon several protesters could be heard. All of them shouting 'down with NCR'. Dark times indeed. Harris felt uneasy for citizens to be protesting such radical action "-not to mention, it looks like people are a few days away from rioting against the Government."

"I know, this is might seem much. But your the only other nation I'd trust with military equipment...or at least the only other democratic state in the entire American wasteland that has the right of protest and open discussions," he finished. "So do we have a deal?"

“Of course, General Shu. Your men can proceed to Fort Bliss, where I guarantee they will be given good accomodations. These are dark times for democratic states. Many men here at this convention arrogantly spit on our ideals, but we must endure for our people. I wish you good luck with your government. Speak to our embassy, or call me again if you need any more assistance from Texas.”

@Wampower@Andronicus23@Gingy

General Shu, Shady Sands

The cadre of Officers, Veterans and Rangers that accompanied General Shu to the center of governance of the NCR was a rather somber sight to be honest. Namely the streets, as restored as one could make after a nuclear annihilation was filled with people - all shouting down the policies of the politicians whom supported President Kimball as well as the dead man itself.

The irony of the fact was, the only reason that the protestors hadn't stormed the building was namely cause the place was under lockdown. Except, the police were facing with their backs to the crowd - namely the Sheriff of Shady Sands had lost a brother in Kimball' push Eastward and had ordered what police existed in Shady Sands to barricade the Governmental Building itself. Trapping the politicians of the NCR, with zero power in their hands.

Democracy had a hidden edge that many seemed to forget - democracy might seem inshakeable from within, yet there always existed the danger of internal revolt. Even a free society that was the New California Republic. Especially when it was costing their money, and their sons and daughters to satisfy the urges of greedy men. Once the people might have agreed to push East and 'civilize' the Wasteland - but there were other factions in play now. Whose political system was strong enough to resist and even hurt the NCR.

General Shu didn't stay to address the crowd or answer their questions - just having the soldiers create a path, without hurting any of the civilians towards the place that was once known as the California State Capitol. It didn't take much, to get and break down the barricade - having troops march in.

He kept his face neutral upon finding the huddled mass of politicians, he hated doing this - but the NCR needed to change or die. "I am sorry for doing this. But the people have spoken, and in a democracy the will of the people must be enforced. Your being placed under house arrest," he stated. Not arrested, just confined to their homes.

---

It took several days, before any news started flowing again through the New California Republic. Namely news that would reach even to the casinos of New Vegas itself. Some might be cheering, some might be laughing at the irony and others might be praying things didn't turn out for the worse.

As namely the voice of General Shu, head of the NCR Provisional Government made his speech on the national radio:

"My name is General Lee Hsu. You might have heard my name, I have served in the multiple fronts that the New California Republic has deployed into the Mojave Wasteland and farther beyond."

"What you are hearing, is what you might think is a coup. I make no mistake to hide it, indeed - one can call it a public revolt against the elected government. Or simply a coup lead by the military establishment. Many, like myself - have groaned under the corruption of the NCR. Defenders say it is merely the pains of a fledgling democracy...others say it is the sign of a bloated and corrupt system."

"What now? You might ask. Wasting your time with philosophy is likely not what you usually tune into. So, I will try and make this brief and informative. The New California Republic is not disbanding, nor going under martial or dictatorial rule. For you regular people, nothing will much change - work will continue, caps will be paid and crops will be collected. For the system...it needs change."

"We can NOT remain a nation, that has to survive on expansion. No such nation can survive forever - to do so would be the crown one an Empire. No Empire has stood forever - it is the will of the people, that change, progress and understanding develops. But sadly, that will has been abused...many times over. By people, whom tax one heavily. By people, whom send you to die for reasons you can't understand. By people, whom would spout freedom as an excuse to invade those, that might seem 'different'."

"Yes, we have nations at our borders who aren't democratic, free or you might say just. But who are we, do tell them so? Aren't we bound by the notion of freedom of speech? The right to hold one belief sacred?"

"The New California Republic - in its core, will remain the same. In the coming weeks, there will be a change to the political system. We will transition from a Republican system, where everything is run from Shady Sands - to a more federalized system, where many states that make up the NCR will have more word and say."

"What will that mean for you? Less taxes and less bureacracy in your dealings with the government. Shady Sands will still remain our capital - but most of your political work, can be done in the state in which you live in. In the following days, I will be in contact with the Governors that are there to manage your states. There will be new elections, and well as new laws that will be drafted up in the near future."

"We will be looking more inward, starting to develop and build upon what we have. We can't expand forever, there are others whom do not like what we are doing. Once we might have ignored them. We can longer do that. We have a choice - we can either change with the growing times or go the fate of our predecessor. If one has to wonder what that is - one has to only look out the window."

"This is General Lee Shu. Out."

@NecroKnight

Legio I Arizona Camp

A watchful vigil had been established outside Lucius's tent, as the Legion waited with baited breath to hear news of their Caesar's condition. Crimson cloaked Praetorians guarded the tent's entrance carefully, allowing no-one but Caesar's wife and the Legate in. Whispers among the top officers and Centurions of in the camp had begun to circulate about succession and the possibility that their leader could be departing this world at any time. Plans would need to be made and orders carried out swiftly and decisively to prevent any trouble. The Legion could ill-afford a dispute over leadership at this time.

With no heir to Caesar immediately present, most had begun to look to Legate Aurelius as the second most senior member of Caesar's inner circle. He was the natural choice. Others, however, advocated for Vulpes Inculta, but as he was still far away and deep in NCR territory, he was not in a position to defend a claim or speak for himself. Little thought was given to Caesar's potential widow. It was, however, agreed that she would not be remarried, out of respect to Caesar. Normally a Legion woman of her high standing would be made a Priestess of Mars and live out the rest of her days as an honored member of that virtuous sisterhood. Her status as a New Canaanite, however, was problematic to that end. She would need to return to her people in Zion, it was finally decided, and remain there instead.

Hannah, for her part, chose to remain silent about one important detail that no-one but she, her husband, and the examining doctor had known. She was pregnant. While this fact might make a substantial portion of the Legion rally around Caesar's true-born heir, others would see it as a problem to be removed entirely. Her husband had not yet formally named his unborn son as his heir, and so some would undoubtedly dispute the claim, especially if she, a New Canaanite and his mother, were to be so influential on him. In fact, even if the Legion were to submit whole-heatedly to her unborn child now, by the time he'd grown to adulthood, it was quite likely he would be taken away from her so as to be groomed for command by individuals with their own agenda. She couldn't allow that to happen, nor would she or her child be some kind of puppet in the game of succession that was to follow. She would return to Zion and birth the child in secret, and raise him there. Her own people would her keep the secret.

"I hear Caesar breathes his last..."

"The cowardly President shot him many times. It is only by the mercy of Father Mars that he did not die sooner."

"Then is the Legate now Caesar?"

"Not yet. But it seems only a matter of time."

Sitting outside the tent, Hannah heard the nervous whispers of the Legionaries. She hated them for speaking of her husband so callously, but she also understood their fears. These men were veterans who'd seen the Legion nearly fall before. The question of who would lead them next, and to what sort of leader that person would be, was understandably an important one. Legionaries lived and died by the will of their Caesar.

"I'll hear no more talk of it!" The voice of Aurelius cut the air as the imposing Legate strode out of his own tent and towards Caesar's. A small retinue of Legion officers followed him. It wasn't hard to determine what exactly they'd been discussing.

Hannah lifted her head as the Legate strode past and towards the Praetorians guarding the entrance to the grand tent. He whispered something to one of them and then turned his attention to Hannah,

"I've followed Caesar from Flagstaff to Denver. I've bled with him. He is my brother by virtue of honor if not blood. Whatever the outcome, you will be safe."

She merely nodded in reply. The Legate's words, while meant to be comforting, undercut a hard truth. The Legion was still The Legion. And there were undoubtedly some that would seek her as some sort of trophy. The widow of Caesar, however sacrilegious it might be, was a tempting prize to be won. Indeed, she caught more than one in the cadre of officers following The Legate eyeing her with something that could only be described as hunger.

Hannah closed her eyes and sent up another silent prayer and hoped against hope that it might be answered. There was still much Lucius had to do, both as a father and husband, and as a leader. She didn't approve of bargaining with The Lord, but here and now she promised a great many things if her husband might yet be delivered. One thing in particular she promised above all else, and swore the most sacred oath that it would be done if her prayer might only be answered.

A sudden commotion from the tent caught her attention. Several of the Praetorians had begun backing away, and she saw both the Legate and his retinue staring now too. She soon saw what had drawn their attention so raptly. The weakened, pale, but alive form of Lucius standing outside the tent. Both the Praetorians the surrounding Legionaries immediately kneeled in reverence.

"Caesar," Aurelius whispered, and he too fell to his knees, "Thanks be to Mars, you are alive!"

Hannah tore through the humbled throng of legionaries and ran at her husband, throwing her arms around him. She said nothing, but simply wept joyfully,

"Yes...thanks be to Mars," Lucius said. His hand crept over the wooden cross that Hannah had placed around his neck, and he gave his wife a knowing, and perhaps confused, look. Hannah responded by quickly tucking it underneath his shirt and ensuring that his soldiers would not see.

"Send couriers to all my commanders," Lucius began as he turned to the Legate. His voice was soft and tired, but it has lost none of its authority, "Tell them Caesar lives. Let there be no doubt."

"Caesar!" Aurelius responded, as he drew his gladius. This was quickly followed by others doing the same. A cry of "Caesar! Caesar!" Quickly rang throughout the camp.

---------------------------------------------

Caesar's Tent - Sometime Later

"There can be no doubt Caesar. The NCR has dissolved the former government of President Kimball and forged a new order in its place," Legate Aurelius reported swiftly, as Lucius sat brooding in his fur-lined 'throne' that was topped with spears and draped with crimson banners behind an oaken desk, "Now should be the time we strike. While their government is in disarray. If we attack now, we might scatter the cowards to the winds."

"Who leads the NCR now?" Lucius asked.

"General Lee Shu of the NCR is who announced the new administration. Its likely he has taken Kimball's place as the de-facto leader at least for the time being."

"General Shu? I've heard of him," Lucius nodded, "Odd that a General is leading this transition in a system that they claim is a democracy"

"We believe the NCR is under some form of martial law for the moment. Whether they've officially announced it or not."

Lucius remained silent for several moments, considering his next moves carefully. After a time, he raised his head and turned to Hannah, who was seated off to the side,

"My Legate urges me to war," He began, "What counsel would you give?"

Surprised at the question, Hannah lifted her head and stood up, walking over to where Lucius was seated. The Legate seemed confused by Caesar's request, but otherwise said nothing. He could tell very well that Caesar had not intended the question as a joke.

"Offer peace," She replied, "Do what they would never expect you to do. Kimball is dead, and he claimed his assault on The Legion was an act of self-defense. Those who believed Kimball will expect you to march on the NCR and torch and burn everything in your path."

"I did consider it," Lucius remarked slyly.

"..prove them wrong and Kimball the fool. You've crushed his army and sent the rest of his soldiers scurrying across the Texan border. If you attack, you will become the enemy: the hated adversary in the President's place. You prove that Kimball was right about you. Allies of the NCR will use that as justification to continue the war. But if you make peace...you show the opposite. Kimball was the aggressor, not you. Kimball wished war: not you. Perhaps you can leverage that to your advantage."

The Legate was aghast, but Lucius merely nodded.

"I would have to agree with my wife Aurelius. I think she makes a fair point."

"Make peace with the NCR? After they attacked? We should kill them, take their women and children as slaves and burn every city in sight. The eyes of Mars would look shamefully down on us otherwise..."

"Perhaps that it what Edward would have done, but I have something else in mind. The Legion cannot survive as it is. There must be changes, and they will start here and now. We need to illustrate that intent quite clearly, and I can think of no better way to do so. I will draft the letter myself, and I want our best Frumentarii to ensure that it gets into the hands of General Shu himself. He's a soldier, not a politician playing at being one like Kimball was. Perhaps we might find common ground there..."

-------

Letter Contents:

To General Lee Shu of the NCR,

General, no doubt you are reading this message with suspicion. You have no reason to trust me anymore than I have reason to trust you. Instead, I appeal to you as a fellow soldier and commander. Cease this senseless war. It was Kimball who brought us down this insane path. He claimed that I was the great enemy to be destroyed in the west, and his ill-advised crusade cost his life along with those of many of his soldiers.

My Legion is not the Legion of Edward Sallow. I will prove that to you here and now with an offer that Edward would have never considered.
Peace. I propose the following terms for a general armistice:

-All hostilities between The NCR and Legion, and all affiliated mercenaries and allied nations, will halt immediately.

-Legion forces under the command of Vulpes Inculta, will withdraw from their raids on NCR home territories without further incident and return to Arizona.

-NCR prisoners captured by Legion forces at the Battle of Phoenix will be allowed to return home in separate waves. With the first wave being released four days hence from the time of agreement to these terms. The last wave will be release no later than a month from now. Until such time as they are permitted to leave, they will be kept in as comfortable conditions as can be managed with ample food and water stocks. A single NCR officer of sufficient rank will be allowed to inspect the conditions of the soldiers during this time. The officer will also be allowed to return with correspondence the prisoners may wish to send back home.

-Any captured soldier or officer of the NCR that accepts a formal offer of enrollment in Caesar's Legion will not be hindered in doing so and will be released immediately from captivity. Those that refuse will be allowed to continue their captivity until such time as they are released as outlined above.

-As an act of good faith, and representative of its new government, The NCR will issue a formal condemnation of former President Kimball's actions to both its people, and the assembled delegates of the Vegas convention.

-A more permanent and lasting treaty will be signed at a later date. Negotiations for the stipulations of this treaty will take place at a second formal gathering of nations.

I await your reply.

Signed,

Lucius, Caesar of The Legion

Arizona [Collab with @Andronicus23 ]

After the failed charge by President Kimball - many NCR soldiers and support staff had been captured during the Legion' charge back to the Arizona-Vegas border. Or rather, most of the captured NCR people had been part of the supply stations that had been developed a few days ago.

As many whom had been with Kimball had died, in the chaos of the fighting - or rather were too injured to be of much use. As such, many of the captured in essence had been done by the Ghosts. Even now, a few of the logistical staff were scared - as the Ghosts had come out of nowhere. While one could shoot and kill a Legionnaire - when it came to Ghosts, they were shot down...YET still rose up and came at them.

Under Graham' directive - the Ghosts had captured most of them alive, but a few were still shell-shocked. Especially those, whom had gotten suddenly jumped - one medic in question was sitting silently by herself. As she had been one of those, whom had fought a Ghost - shot it at point-blank range with a revolver. Emptied the entire chamber and had done nothing.

It didn't help, that they were kept as they were. While not many torture had happened, the NCR personnel were forced to 'sit in silence'. While not torturous, for some of the new recruits it was driving them stir-crazy.

As the recruits sat idly in the camp, carefully watched by their captors, they were suddenly alerted to the presence of a crimson dressed individual striding confidently into the camp. A Legion centurion and an accompanying Legionarie attache holding a sealed leader stamped with red wax approached the prisoners. After carefully unsealing the letter, he addressed the NCR captives formally,

"Soldiers of the NCR," He began, "Here this now and pay close attention, for this message comes to you direct from the hands of Caesar Lucius himself. Your President is dead, and Caesar has made a proposition to General Shu and the new NCR Government: one that proposes peace. As part of this offer, all current NCR prisoners of the Legion, whereever they are held in captivity are to be read this offer of enrollment in the Legion."

The Centurion cleared his throat before he continued reading directly from the opened letter,

"To any and all soldiers of the New California Republic. I Caesar Lucius of The Legion hereby offer formal enrollment to those willing to join The Legion. Your former President led you to this sad state of affairs and as he is now dead, you owe him no further oath of allegiance. Anyone who accepts this offer will be given an initial stipend of 2,000 denarii direct from the hands of the Centurion who bears this missive. After which they will be provided the standard pay of a Legionarie in service to Caesar. In addition, good lands will be distributed in Arizona which will be granted to all who accept after they have served out their full term in The Legion. Should you have wives or children, they will be granted all status appropriate to their station. Any officers of The NCR will be given a rank equal to that of their standing currently. Female soldiers of the NCR, such as they are, will not be permitted to join as Legionaries in the custom of The Legion, but may request status as Legion women, a noble status in and of itself."

The Centurion lowered the letter and looked for the reactions of the assembled prisoners,

"Such is the will of Caesar. Who here will accept his offer?"

As expected or not, the oldest trooper amongst the group simply gargled and spit at the Centurion in question. "Like heck, we will abandon the Bear...unlike you, our system doesn't collapse with the death of our lead-"

"I will accept..." spoke a voice, and that made several eyes turn to one...woman in particular. She had a hard time getting up, seeing as all prisoners had their hands bound by rope. But eventually she stood up.

That caused the others to try and stop her - almost by force, in their cages. Although, that seemed to make the medic in question snap. As the woman simply balled her fists - and started hitting at the older trooper in question. Despite his tone, it was something...ironic, to see the 'tough' soldier get his ass kicked by a female of twenty years. She seemed almost wild, as she kicked hard enough to smash one in the knee and hear cracks. While the last fool tried to grab her from behind and the she simply bit into his hand, drawing blood.

After that show, everybody else backed away from her. "I WON'T DIE TO SOME SUPER-GHOULS...or do some fat-cat or brahmin baron...who gives to fuck about me and my life!" she panted, before turning around and speaking with the Centurion. "I got nothing back home...but I know medicine...I will join..."

The Centurion was taken aback by the sudden and rather violent display. Nor had he expected a woman to be the first to agree to the offer in the first place. However, she'd spoken her peace and formally accepted, he considered what she'd said and gave a nod to his accompanying assistant,

"Very well," He replied, "Then from this moment forward, you are a Legion woman. None shall touch you without your consent and you will be given all status due to you. If you are student of medicine, they you shall become a healer, perhaps attached to this very Legion. Or perhaps, given time, even a Priestess of Mars."

The Centurion turned to his assistant, and the Legionarie pulled forth of leather bound book which he opened and set to the side on a small wooden table,

"Sign here, so we may have a proper accounting of any and all who may decide to accept."

The Centurion then turned back to the assembled soldiers,

"As you can see, there are no games and no tricks at play here," He assured them, "What I have told you, Caesar will honor. Nothing more, and nothing less. Now that one of your own has accepted my offer, I ask again, will any agree to the terms that mighty Caesar has proclaimed be given to all?"

The woman in question soon scurried out, once her ropes were unbound - she soon leaned over signed her name. She had some looks anyway, so either way - some member of the Legion would be happy; be it due to her skill or appearance.

Once that happened - a few others started chatting amongst them. Mostly the greens - those whom had simply come since they had been drafted and not given much choice. Soon enough - several of the conscripts, the newblood had rosed and agreed.

Half of the logistical staff had turned by the time that the remaining females also started discussing and agreeing. Namely they gathered together around the first medic - a bit afraid of remaining as POWs and thinking that the offer from the Legion didn't sound that bad. While the signers were mostly young and inexperienced - it was surprising to see a few veterans as well. Whom simply decided to leave the NCR due to the disappointment and situation they were in. While they were less warming to the idea of serving the Legion - they were also those, whom could bring the most to the table.

By the end count - about fifty of their seventy-five prisoners had signed on. More than half at that - which accounted to about thirty-six young men, eight young women and four veteran males. All in all - not a bad count.

With the full census on all those who had accepted the terms of enrollment completed, the Legionary assistant closed the bound book and handed it to the Centurion, who added his own notes and other administrative details before signing it himself and handing it back to the Legionary,

"Have a scribe copy it down and send it to The Legate so that he might make his report to Caesar." He ordered, and with that the Legionary gave a sharp salute and hurried off with the book.

The Centurion, meanwhile, turned back to the prisoners,

"Those that have accepted will be immediately handed the promised sum of 2,000 denarii and will swiftly be assigned to their new posts once they've been adequately trained. Those that have refused the offer will remain here, until such time as you are released as per the agreement made to General Shu. You will not be mistreated and will be give adequate food and water supplies. Once an NCR representative arrives, you will also be permitted to send word to your families home. If any of those that have accepted the offer are engineers or officers, they are to let this be known. Caesar has ordered that such knowledgeable individuals be indentified immediately for specific tasks."

The Centurion then stode over to the male NCR soldiers who had agreed to become Legionaries,

"Attention!" He commanded, "As your first command as Legionaries of Caesar, you are ordered to report immediately to the quartermaster for outfit. Understood? And from this moment forward, you will salute superior officers in the Legion manner."

The Centurion balled a fist and pounded it to his chest, "Like so."

The assembled troopers responded in kind, mimicing the salute.

"Dismissed!" He ordered.

He then approached the female soldiers who had accepted the offer,

"The Priestesses of Mars will await you in their tent. They will answer any questions and provide you with whatever you may need. By order of Caesar, you will also be given the stipend of denarii to be used for whatever purpose you see fit. Now go."

Once more, the Centurion addressed the prisoners for the last time,

"This offer will stand as long as you are held here. After you return to the NCR, it will be revoked: permanently. If you at any time wish to accept and immediately end your captivity, you need only to speak your intentions and it will be done."

With that, the Centurion strode away once more, satisfied with the more than adequate response that Caesar's offer had recieved.

---

General Shu, Shady Sands

Letter from the Provisional Government of the New California Republic:

I have received your letter and I accept the requirements you have demanded for this armistice. I will be likely busy for the following week - but afterwards, I will make sure to meet for a second delegation in New Vegas.

You will find that we have no love for President Kimball anymore. Even though by our laws, desertion is punishable - I am understand I have no power to enforce that later on. So be it - I shall cease all hostilities in return with the Legion.

A Ranger will soon be sent to delegate the safe travel and release of our prisoners.

Signed,

General James Hsu, Provisional Leader

General Hsu soon finished writing his letter to Caesar. It wasn't much - namely he had agreed to what Lucius had asked in kind. As the situation was - it was likely a bare necessity to tell the people of the New California Republic that what Kimball had done - both generations they were totally against it.

He kind of hated the idea, of the Legion turning several of his countrymen against their home - but he didn't have anything up his sleeve to enforce that punishment. He would need to have the survivors questioned and document whom had deserted and whom had remained loyal. He hated doing such acts - but he was no responsible for the safety and security of the New California Republic.

In the coming week, General Shu had started writing down and organizing the implementation of several new Laws as well as writing up a new constitution. The new laws and rules, would be printed and deployed to many corners of the NCR' homeland - where the average people could read up and understand what was happening.

New California Republic Transition Reforms: from an unitary state to a federal republic central power of Shady Sands will be divided between New Arroyo, Angel's Boneyard, New Adytum, Dayglow, The Hub, Maxson, Redding and Junktown. Shady Sands will remain the federal capital - while the remaining states will receive autonomy to dictate their and run their own economy, taxes and police force.

New California Republic Army Reforms: will eliminate conscription and replace it with a voluntary army, most of the current conscripts shall soon receive their letters of release, after which they are free to leave the NCR Army and be paid their pay for service. If one wishes to continue serving, then they shall report to their superiors about the wish and will go through a new training regiment to weed out the fresh from the best.

New Californa Republic Tax Reforms: a new flat tax system will replace the current - location-based quota tax. Afterwards they will only have to pay a certain percentage only. Rate may vary depending on state and not specific location.

The Judiciary Branch Reforms: the Judiciary Branch shall be here-worth be responsible for the election of Judges, Sheriffs and Marshals throughout the states of the NCR. Most Judges, Sheriffs and Marshals shall here-on answer to the General Court of Shady Sands - the highest court in the NCR. They also have the authority to screen and scrutinize the lawfulness of the members of the Executive and the Legislative Branch.

Anti-Corruption Laws: corruption in the offices of the Executive or Legislative are hereby illegal. Any attempts to bribe an elected official or taking bribery is cause for a fine AND jail-time of up to ten years.

Political Reforms: the elected officials are hereby allowed to serve for an upward of ten years maximum, with two years at a time. Attempts to serve for longer require the approval of the Legislature, the approval of the General Court of Shady Sands and authorized by the President of the New California Republic. Any elected official is the voice of the people - as thus, any politician is up for recall - via a pedition signed by the people of the state and delivered to the General Court of Shady Sands.

Legislative Reforms: the Army of the New California Republic is here-on under the authority of the Secretary of Defense. The Secretary of Defense, is required to have served in the armed forces for a period of at least seven years and attained the rank of Colonel at minimum. Any civil servant, whom is in the Army gives up his commission upon being elected to the post of Secretary of Defense. While authority to initiate war is still in the possession of the Legislative Branch - it shall be the Secretary of Defense whom will now execute that order.

SAC Command Bunker - Conference Room

The spartan, but well furnished conference room was alongside the second story of the cavernous Operations room, where long ago the Strategic Air Command Staff had controlled the Old World Government's nuclear forces before and during the Great War...and now was from where the Midwestern Order controlled it's forces, under the ever watchful eye of the Lord-Paladin. The north wall of the room was tempered glass, giving the occupants a panoramic view of the operations room, and the maps and status boards on the walls. But the occupants, sitting around the long, ancient wooden table, had their attention elsewhere....a speaker sitting on the center of the table.

"....The New California Republic - in its core, will remain the same", the speaker crackled. "In the coming weeks, there will be a change to the political system. We will transition from a Republican system, where everything is run from Shady Sands - to a more federalized system, where many states that make up the NCR will have more word and say."

"What will that mean for you? Less taxes and less bureaucracy in your dealings with the government. Shady Sands will still remain our capital - but most of your political work, can be done in the state in which you live in. In the following days, I will be in contact with the Governors that are there to manage your states. There will be new elections, and well as new laws that will be drafted up in the near future."

"We will be looking more inward, starting to develop and build upon what we have. We can't expand forever, there are others whom do not like what we are doing. Once we might have ignored them. We can longer do that. We have a choice - we can either change with the growing times or go the fate of our predecessor. If one has to wonder what that is - one has to only look out the window."

"This is General Lee Shu. Out."

General Tsu's voice was replaced by music, and in response to a gesture made by the robot sitting at the head of the table, the radio broadcast was speedily cut off as the echo he was receiving from hearing this in two places was irritating.

"It appears that Kimball's death has sparked a coup", Barnaky said, "Your thoughts, ladies and gentlemen?".

"Tsu is certainly saying the right things. My Lord", replied Paladin-General Wilson. "Perhaps the repeated defeats have finally forced them to face reality....their current policies are simply not sustainable in the resource depleted world our thrice damned ancestors left for us." He then cleared his throat and continued. "In any case, such rhetoric should be encouraged. I would recommend the contractors we have in California be recalled immediately."

"Agreed", Barnaky replied, "I'm giving that order as we speak." He then turned to a Scribe on his left. "Brother Harold, what news have we of Lucius Caesar?"

"He was wounded in the battle but still lives, but that is all we know right now", Brother Harold, one of Martin's deputies, said. "Our Embassy in Santa Fe is trying to get in contact with his Field HQ to learn more."

"Paladin-Commander Jeffries has arrived in Santa Fe and is taking steps to organize the defense of the city as agreed to previously", Wilson added, "he says the local Legion commanders are quite cooperative, but don't know any more about the situation with Lucius than the Embassy does."

"We need to get someone to Lucius asap", Barnaky growled, "I need to know what Lucius is going to do next. Defeating Kimball and his Expeditionary Force is a major achievement, given the disparacy in tech, but it's just the sort of achievement that can go to a man's head and make him overreach. Lucius is a prudent man, but they have endured much these last five years." He looked at Brother Harold. "Expect orders from Brother Martin regarding this."

"Next item on the agenda is Oklahoma", Barnaky said, "What are the Texans up to?"

"They've made camp in Norman, about 20 miles South of Oklahoma City", Wilson replied, "5000 Infantry, 300 Cavalry...and we believe a reinforced Company of Texas Rangers. They've also got several hundred civilians with them."

"Settlers, My Lord", added Sister Mason, the Inquisition representative. "Part of a official settlement initiative sponsored by the New Dallas government. An opportunity we took advantage of....it was advertised locally to the general public." She shrugged. "No doubt a few Texas Rangers are traveling with the civilians as well, for the same reason."

"We believe they mean to push their border to Oklahoma City", Wilson continued, "While a powerful force, it's not powerful enough to make a credible offensive on our lands, which could be a deliberate calculation on their part. Not to mention the logistical problems supporting an opposed invasion of Kansas would present to them." He then added, "but once secured, and connected to Texas's rail net...it would make a excellent staging area for incursions Northward."

"Is that what you think they intend?", asked Barnaky.

"That question could be better answered by the Inquisition or Office of State, My Lord", Wilson answered, "For my part, I fail to see what they would gain by doing so....but if they are acting on ideological beliefs, logic, not to mention perceived economic or strategic benefit, might have nothing to do with it."

"It all comes back to this 'Co-Prosperity Sphere' Tenpenny mentioned", Barnaky said, "What is it's purpose? And why is it being formed in secret?"

Barnaky looked back to Wilson.

"I take it contesting a Texan occupation of Oklahoma City and southern Oklahoma is not an option at this point", Barnaky said. Wilson shook his head, though Barnaky knew the answer already. "Very well, then....we'll just have to maintain our current defensive posture and wait and see. We've got bigger fish to fry anyway."

Communications Room - @Kouropalates

The Duty officer pulled the message off the teletype the moment it finished printing and read it.

FLASH TRAFFIC-FLASH TRAFFIC-FLASH TRAFFIC

*****MESSAGE BEGINS******

RECALL INTRUDE N313 WITH IMMEDIATE EFFECT **REPEAT** RECALL INTRUDE N313 WITH IMMEDIATE EFFECT. RECENT DIPLOMATIC BREAKTHROUGHS HAVE MADE OPERATION COUNTERPRODUCTIVE. IN FIELD ASSETS TO IMMEDIATELY EXFIL AO BY BEST PRACTICAL MEANS. AGENT WILL BE DISPATCHED ASAP TO FOLLOW UP REGARDING DISPOSITION OF CONTRACT. - BARNAKY

*****MESSAGE ENDS******

FLASH TRAFFIC-FLASH TRAFFIC-FLASH TRAFFIC

Immediately, the Duty Officer barked out the orders to begin the process of transmitting the message....

Santa Fe, Capital of The Legion

With the official signing of the NCR-Legion Armistice, copies of the proclamation were quickly drafted up and delivered to all corners of Caesar's empire. Likewise, radio communications and messages were frantically sent to Legion commanders and delivered directly into the hands of the Midwestern ambassador. It read simply:

By order of Caesar Lucius, Imperator of The Legion,

All hostile action against the New California Republic is to halt immediately. Any who violate this order will be punished with the lash and the cross. Maintain defensive positions.

------------------------

Titus Crassus, inside The Gourmand

The message had been disseminated quickly, and soon Titus himself had received a copy of it all the way in Vegas. The orders were clear, and Caesar's word was law.

"I request the floor once more," Titus said, raising a hand, "All military actions between the NCR and Legion have been halted. A state of armistice has been declared by General Shu and Caesar. Delegates, with this turn of events I propose we adjourn this meeting and return home to our respective states. Furthermore, I propose that we reconvene in one months time to negotiate the full and lasting peace terms that will ensure stability in the West. If there are no objections....I will take my leave."

Alaskan Federation

Sitting back in his seat North reached for a flask and poured himself a glass, a thick honeyed substance flowed out. "Then to Kimball, a fool who knew no equal, may he at least find some peace where he goes." Victoria nodded but hadn't taken a glass up herself. The mead flowed slowly down the glass and across his beard dripping in odd places before North brought the clear glass down.

"He was a coward, undeserving of a honorary send off. But still, may the gods take pity on the man." Spoke Victoria as her aid sat down a tray of various Vegas foods. Taking up the strange mixed salad with mutfruit and Yucca she looked oddly at it.

Swiping the remaining mead off his chin North stood and watched the Legion delegates leave before striding over to the Midwestern Brotherhood. "I had hoped we could meet after this, I had a matter to discuss. One you might find interesting. Perhaps we can meet later at my room, 108?" @Tiberius67

The New York Syndicate (Secretly The Institute) - New Vegas, The Gourmand

The Convention was starting to wrap up following the announcement of an armistice between the NCR and Legion. Don Borgio actually seemed a bit disappointed with the early dismissal, but intrigued by the possibility of more negotiations in the future.

"Very well then," He sighed after the Legion representative had spoken. He then waved down a nearby waiter, "I'd like the check, please. If you don't mind."

"Then to Kimball, a fool who knew no equal, may he at least find some peace where he goes." The man from Alaska announced with a toast.

"Yes to Kimball," Don Borgio replied, raising his own glass.

The Don then turned to his two children, seated on either side of him,

"Lets be off. I'd like to make it back to New York as soon as possible. We've got much to do my children. Much to do."

"Of course," Antony said with a nod, "Here father, let me help you with your coat."

"Grazie, Antony," The Don replied. As he stood up, he looked over to his daughter, who had a vacant expression on her face. It looked as if she'd seen a ghost, "Lucia my dear, what is it?"

Lucia sat silently staring for a few seconds, before slowly mouthing the words,

"I...I don't know...I feel....I feel strange."

"Its this damnable Mojave air," The Don replied with a huff, "Come now. You'll be right as rain once we get back home. Grab your things. We're departing immediately."

"I'm not sure I want to go..." Lucia continued, "I think...I think I'd like to stay here...in Vegas."

Lucia then felt a gloved hand on her shoulder. She turned to see one of her father's goons standing directly behind her. Looking at her with an intensity that she'd never seen before,

"I think you had better listen to your father," The man said, in an emotionless tone of voice that struck her as very odd. For the life of her Lucia couldn't seem to remember his name. In fact, she couldn't remember either one the two bodyguard's names.

Lucia simply nodded and grabbed her effects. Her father hadn't seemed to notice the exchange, oddly enough, and was already on his way out the door along with Antony. He was cheerfully humming Sinatra's "New York, New York" and Lucia had to crack a smile, perhaps he was right. Maybe it was the Mojave air. She was ready to go home.

------------

As the Borgio family left the Gourmand, the two bodyguards turned to one another.

"Z4, there is an issue with the female Synth. Her memory reset may not have been fully clean. I will signal SRB once we've taken off from McCarren. Ideally, we should be back in Boston within six hours."

"Let them know we will be ready for relay as soon as the transmitter comes in range. The plane will go down, as planned, in Pennsylvania. Should anyone be tracking our flight, that should dissuade any curiosity."


Hours Later...
Board Room of The Directorate - The Institute, Underneath The Ruins of CIT

Seated around a pristine white table on one of the upper levels of The Institute's concourse, The Directorate had gathered following the successful return of the Synth 'diplomats' from Vegas. Each of the heads of The Institute's divisions were present: Dr. Clayton Holdren: representing Bioscience, Dr. Alana Secord: representing the Synth Retention Bureau, Dr. Madison Li: representing Advanced System, and Dr. Allie Fillmore: representing Facilities.

Seated at the end of the table was the final member of The Directorate: The Director himself: Dr. Thomas Milburn. A man in his early forties with light streaks of silver in his finely combed hair and wearing a thin pair of rounded glasses. He wore a starch white labcoat atop a neatly pressed pre-war sweater-vest and pants. He very much looked the part of a bookish college professor, one who had, quite literally, stepped out of the world before the bombs had fallen. Behind him, seated off to the side with her legs propped up causally on a nearby end table, was a woman who looked distinctly out of place when compared with the individuals seated around the table. The red-haired woman looked much more like a mercenary than a scientist, and wore a form-fitting red and white jumper and a holstered energy pistol strapped to her waist. She appeared decidedly disinterested in the meeting, and instead seemed to be focused on reading a well-worn pre-war pulp magazine.

Splayed out on the table in front of The Directorate was a stack of meticulously complied manila folders. Each folder consisted of a dossier on the major world leaders and attendees to the New Vegas Convention which were filled out with as much detail as could be gathered. A picture of each of the individuals was attached to the first document in the folder, and a number of other photos, taken by hidden cameras on the synth, were tucked away within them as well. Each member of The Directorate was going through the stack: opening the folders and examining the contents within with a discerning eye.

"Alana, are you sure of these reports?" Clayton asked. He was holding an opened folder in his hand, "This seems....well this all seems rather far-fetched. Mercenary Companies, a new nation in Texas, tribals dressing as Roman soldiers, a nation calling itself the New Republic of...California? A Brotherhood of Steel chapter that appears led by some sort of cyborg and, worst of all, some sort of fanatical religious cult? And those are just the ones I've read so far!"

"I assure you Clayton, these reports are accurate. I've had SRB Agents combing through the information we received back from the infiltrator Synths along with the Watcher Crows we sent. None of this has been fabricated or exaggerated."

"I can speak to the veracity of the dossier regarding The Brotherhood...not that it is my place to do SRB's job for them.." Dr. Li replied, "This...'Simon Barnaky'. I heard mention of him and the Midwestern Chapter back when I was in D.C. I had heard Elder Lyons remark on the differences between the Midwestern chapter and those back west. I never really understood how different, however, until I read this document."

"They're using Vault Zero as a base of Operations..." Thomas said as he sat back in his chair, "Hmm. I suppose the rumors of a government project there were true then."

"Sir?"

"Before the war, there were rumors flying about a specially constructed Vault. It contained a large amount of military surplus and robotics technology, including some of the most advanced neuro-robotics equipment known to us at the time. The assumption was that it was going to be used for some sort of specialized government recovery plan in the event of Nuclear War. If this chapter has indeed taken the vault, then they will certainly pose far more of a threat than Maxson's chapter ever could."

"Well maybe they'll fry up just as easy at least," the red-haired woman remarked, without looking up from her reading.

"Unfortunately Cait, 'Liberty Prime' won't be able to do the frying this time. Its a pity we were unable to save it from destruction. It was an interesting, if largely unpractical, machine."

"Impractical? I'd say giant lasers comin' out of its head did the job juuuust right."

Dr. Li scoffed, "It still had power issues even after I'd worked on it...they would never have been able to finish it without my help..."

"And we're grateful you didn't," Thomas added.

A stifled chuckle emanated from some of the Directorate's members before they returned to reading the dossiers,

"This nation hails all the way from Alaska..." Allie mumbled with surprise as she took a look at a document containing images and descriptions of both North and Victoria, as well as some best-guess information about the function of the Alaskan Federations government, "How is that even possible?"

"The world's far more interconnected than we assumed it would seem," Thomas replied thoughtfully, "Even our extreme predictions fell short of the mark for how advanced these surface-dwellers can be. Of course, I would never have thought such a gathering of nations possible in today's day and age period."

"Advanced is a relative term I'd say..." Clayton remarked dryly, "A war was apparently immediately declared not but a few hours into this convention. If that's their idea of diplomacy I'm not sure attending a second convention will be in our best interests..."

"Isolationism had kept The Institute safe for many years, but if we continue to dig our heads in the sand and ignore the outside world, eventually we're going to find someone, or something, knocking down our door rather violently."

"Well...they'd have to find us first," Clayton joked.

"I did."

A low quiet fell over the gathered Directorate members, broken only by the sounds of Cait flipping pages.

Thomas looked down and began twisting a small gold ring on his finger, before he looked back up at the Directorate, their eyes locked to him,

"Someone once told me that you can never find The Institute. That The Institute will always find you first. He was wrong. Never presume that we are invulnerable here. We need allies above ground...allies who can help us navigate this insane new world that we find ourselves in..."

"You have someone in mind I presume?" Li asked.

A grin spread across Thomas's face, "There is one that I think we might be able to work with. An old colleague of mine who survived the war, much like myself. He's the architect of this grand convention that is the reason we were compelled to gather information in the first place."

Thomas opened the folder he had before him, and slid it across the table. The picture was of a thin mustached, dour looking gentlemen standing next to a younger Thomas. Behind the two men, was a prototype protectron with a faceplate containing the words 'RobCo Industries.' Far from looking like a picture that had been taken recently, the photo appeared to be pre-war black and white.

"Robert Edwin House. Founder of RobCo, and graduate of CIT."

---

Drums would tell of the coming of the Warbands. Strapped to the carcasses of old Cars, they would beat without rest, as the sea of Bodies marched towards the border. The first among them were the Ghouls, empty eyed and idiotic, a ocean of rotting flesh, driven in front of the Warbands, like dogs, feasting on all, who were not quick enough to run.

It was them, who drove the few foolish enough to settle near the border in front of them, now fleeing for their mere life, as an unrelenting wall of dark faith, was pushing into Ohio. Death was marching behind them, with them, and now also in front of them. There was no escape from this madness, form a creeping darkness spewing out of the City, that once was known as the Pitt.

With them came the words of the Prophet, for each Radio was screaming out his Eldritch words, his vile preaching, and the Antediluvian Madness he had witnessed below Dunwich.

"...for i have tasted the truth, a taste in both Crimson and Lilac! It burned my eyes away, so i tore them out of my skull, for their service was no longer required! I feasted on the flesh, sweet and noble, it coated my tongue, so that my unbound soul may once more burn bright in his Glory! For i have unleashed his word upon this world, so it may burn it clean once more...Spill Blood for the Dark God! Corpses for his Kingdom! LET THE WORLD BURN!"

One of the Ghouls found his arm trapped into what had once been a sign. Another stumbled into him, followed by another disgusting abomination of flesh. Finally, the Sign gave in, pulling the Ghoul with the arm in it down with him. The others simply would walk over him, right over the sign...Columbus---- 80 Miles

---

---

The first breath of Miasma, was like breathing Wax. It coated the insides of the Nose, and gave one a short Nauseating feeling, before the Rush would set in. Muscles would twich, the blood would pump, and the mind would race. Some, Unenlightened fools, compared it to the workings of the Drug psycho, yet nothing could compare to the Blasphemous Fury that was in the Misama. It was a gift from Ug-Qualtoth himself, a grandiose vessel of his effulgence!

The world around him turned red, as the Warrior took another deep breath together with his comrades. Clad in the Steel of the Holy City, armed with the weapon simply known as "Cutter" and with Murderous Intent burning in their eyes, they stormed towards the Ruins of the City. In the far distance, they could hear the screams of the Unenlightened, and the roaring of their guns. How pitiful their fire was, for they were fired without faith, silent compared to the laughter that they all heared in the Miasma! How lonley they would die tonight, this city being their grave! "TAKE NO PRISONERS! NONE SHALL BE LEFT ALIVE!"

Then a window was pushed open, and a small figure was firing into the Storming mass, that the Warrior was a part of. Mere Faithless would cower, or run for cover, yet what was mere lead, compared to the Faith of these who had witnessed the Monolith?
A warrior next to him was hit in the throat, falling and being trampled by the men running behind him, another one was hit, yet already they would return the fire. Their Cutters would sing their terrible fury out loud, and the figure fell to it. A long laughter left the Warriors mouth, as he used his body, to shatter the door in front of him, storming into what used to be store, long before the world had learned the glory of the Monolith.

Breathing heavy, the Warrior looked around, unsure why he had left the mass of bodies, still storming into the city outside, capturing Vermilion for the Enlightened. Taking another deep breath, from his Rebreather, filling his lungs with the Miasma, he glared at the things once held in foundness by the people before the great fire. How pitiful their lifes must have been, without the glory of the Prophets words! Then a scream, and a body collided with the Warrior. The Knife scratched against the steel on the Warriors chest, and the sudden impact with the ground, pulled the Rebreather of his head, yet the Warrior was prepared! The Iron-Clad fist, connected with the Face of the Soldier of the Republic, before he smashed his face against his nose, filling the room with a wet breaking sound. A new attempt to sink the knife into the warriors chest followed, yet with not more success then the first attack.

Pure air, insulted the Lungs of the Warrior, as he opened his mouth, exposing the sharp filed teeth in his mouth. He aimed for the throat, and then would taste blood.

Raising from the body, he could hear a voice next to him, and as he turned his bloodied head, the Warrior looked at a Cowering figure, wearing the Uniform of his hated enemy. "I...i Surrender! Please...for the love of good..." The warrior glared, then took a step forward, towards the shivering Body. "Rejoice, for you shall be part of his Kingdom! Your corpse shall be a part of his great plan!"

---

Stepping onto the roof of the building, the two heads in his hands felt heavy, yet he would not give up his trophies. The air was ripe with Blood and death, and the Warrior could see the night sky filled with fire, as the Ruins burned around them. Turning his head, he could see the stripe of death, the Cults armies were cutting into the land, unleashing the fury of the Monolith onto the world. Vermilion had fallen, yet it was only the beginning!

A creeping pain filled the warriors chest, as he once more had to remove is rebreather to spit out the blood filling his mouth. No human lungs were pure enough, to host the divine Miasma! Breathing heavy, he glared it the night Sky, a grin on his face. The war, the all had been prayed for, had finally been unleashed!

Ultra-Luxe - The Gourmand

"I request the floor once more," Titus said, raising a hand, "All military actions between the NCR and Legion have been halted. A state of armistice has been declared by General Shu and Caesar. Delegates, with this turn of events I propose we adjourn this meeting and return home to our respective states. Furthermore, I propose that we reconvene in one months time to negotiate the full and lasting peace terms that will ensure stability in the West. If there are no objections....I will take my leave."

Barnaky raised his hand, and when given the floor, rose to speak.

"I second the motion to adjourn..", Barnaky said, "...and to reconvene in one month's time for the purpose of negotiating a final settlement. I would like to say at this time that my delegation and I shall remain in New Vegas for another day, and would be pleased to meet with anyone who has business with my Order. Thank you."

He then sat down.

After the formalities were out of the way, and the meeting was formally adjourned, a member of the Alaskan delegation approached.

"I had hoped we could meet after this", North said, "I had a matter to discuss. One you might find interesting. Perhaps we can meet later at my room, 108?"

"Certainly", Barnaky replied, "I would be pleased to meet with you...would 6:00 PM be convenient?" @VATROU

30,000 feet above Northern Indiana - 0130 CT the next day

"Four minutes", said a voice coming from one of the speakers in each trooper's helmet, "opening rear cargo door".

The red interior lights suddenly went out and before them, the rear cargo hatch of the old C-130 smoothly swung open, revealing the inky black night sky behind their aircraft. Inside the cargo area, three lines of armored figures, stood shoulder to shoulder, with nine others right behind them, all excited and apprehensive at the same time, as they waited patiently for the command to proceed. They had done this before....but only in training exercises, this time it was an actual mission.

"Two minutes", the voice spoke again as a buzzer sounded and a red light on each side of the open hatch lit up, "Form up." Immediately, each trooper put their right hand on the shoulder of the trooper ahead of them, and prepared themselves to drop. After what seemed an eternity, the buzzer sounded again and the red light changed to yellow.

"One minute.....stand by."

Finally, the buzzer sounded again, and the light turned green.

"Able squad...GO, GO, GO!"

The troopers in the right hand column immediately rushed forward, and stepped off the open ramp of the aircraft and began to plummet into the night. As the last trooper stepped off, the voice spoke again "Bravo, GO, GO, GO!" and the middle column followed, and finally Charlie squad on the left was given the cue to join them. At the same time, on the second aircraft in the fight, Delta and Echo squads, as well as a group of five specially configured Assaultrons, deployed from their aircraft as well. Their troops disembarked, the two pre-war cargo aircraft closed their cargo doors and banked sharply Northwest, towards their base in Chicago. In the air, each squad joined hands and formed up in a circle, and glided towards their unsuspecting targets below as they fell.

Markle, Indiana - 2:15 AM

The Mutant shook his head sadly as he approached the old Super Duper Mart. Two in the morning, and the place was still jumping, he could hear the music ten yards away. Perhaps the Raider crews...human and ghoul...that made up the garrison here thought they were ready for anything, but he knew better. Worse, he wasn't really sure if Rocksalt...he refused to call him "Rog'Resh" as he styled himself now...understood that Barnaky's Brotherhood was far more dangerous than the East Coast Brotherhood that they'd beaten before....though of course he failed to credit whoever took out their robot up in Boston and wiped out much of their leadership for making that success a whole lot easier, if even possible. He'd tried again and again to explain it to him, and that they needed to prepare, but it all fell on deaf ears. When he'd suggested...a error as he saw now...that perhaps he should consider asking The Prophet for aid, once he calmed down from the tantrum he threw over it, he exiled him here. Rocksalt didn't call it exile, of course....officially he had been put in charge of defending the frontiers. But exile it was....it'd be a while before he was allowed back into Ft Wayne again.

The Mutant trudged past the old Super-Duper Mart sign, altered with letters in half a dozen different fonts to read "Animal Planet". For the edification of anyone who viewed it as to what one could find inside, atop the sign....carefully illuminated with spotlights, was a giant mannequin, in this case from a "Big Boy" Burger Shop, cheerfully mounting the Atomic Tire Girl, bending over a giant pair of dice, from behind. The burger he originally held up on a plate had been replaced with a giant can of Duff beer. Someone had clearly gone to great effort to cobble it together. The Mutant shook his head again....if only they had shown such effort when it came to the defenses at the bridge.

The Mutant walked past, and approached the door. One of the pair of Raiders on guard opened the door for him.

"Evening, Boss!", the Raider said.

"Evening", the Mutant rumbled. "Seen Butcher Peg?"

"No Boss", he replied, "but our shift just started....don't know if she's inside or not."

The Mutant emitted a grunt that meant thanks, and walked in. The stench of stale cigarette smoke, booze, sweat...and sex...hit him like a blast to the face as he walked inside. the Bouncer at the weapon check counter pressed a button and the door leading inside opened for him, and he went into the main room. The place was packed, as usual. Raiders from all across Eastern Indiana and Northern Ohio, not to mention traders and locals with guts, lounged about, or sat at tables eating, drinking, gambling, and screwing. The business model was unusual, to say the least...it was a brothel with no fixed stable of girls, or even private rooms to do their business. Instead, any girl (or man, though that was not common) that wanted to "work" traded thier clothes..locked up by the House for safety and collateral...for a order pad and serving tray, and worked as both a waitress and a menu item for a shift of not less than four hours. When hired, they did it then and there, in full view of everyone. The customer paid for sex, booze, chems, chips, whatever, with tokens purchased from the House which the girls turn in for caps paid out when their shift is done. As neutral ground, it was a popular place for Raiders from rival gangs to conduct open negotiations...and behind the scenes liasons. The Mutant...not having entirely forgotten his Vault upringing....thought it was disgusting but interfering would incite a full-scale mutiny, especially since the leaders of both Raider groups based here were receiving a substantial cut of the profits to provide security and guarantee the safety of people they would normally kill on sight.

As the Mutant made his way to the bar, the music stopped and the PA turned on with a whine as a spotlight turned on and focused on a spot on the dance floor.

"Ladies and Gentlemen...if there are any here", a oily voice called out with a laugh, "If you'll direct your attention to the dance floor, we've got a surprise for you!" some laughter and catcalls began as a female ghoul, clad in a rough woolen robe, walked out on the dance floor, pulling along a somewhat reluctant Caravaneer by the hand with her. The Mutant recognized her as one of the feral handlers. Once under the spotlight, they stopped and the ghoul raised her and the Caravaneer's arm above her head. The crowd began to cheer.

"Let me tell you good folks a little story. Once upon a time there was a man named...wait, what's your name again, dude?", the announcer asked the now very nervous man.

"B-Billy", he stammered.

"Right", the announcer said. "There once was a fellow named Billy, and he liked to play cards. But fortunately or unfortunately depending on your point of view, he sucks at it. Well, he comes to this fine establishment to play some cards. And he meets the heroine of our story....Sandra. Sandra is faster than a Corvega Rocket 69, but she has a problem...ever since she made some unfortunate life decisions that ended up with her taking a bath in the Detroit River, she has a hard time finding a driver who can get her motor running, ifyouknowwhatImean." Sandra replied to this by giving the finger in the direction of the announcer booth in mock anger. "Anyway, unlike Billy she happens to be really good at cards. Just look at him, ladies...handsome isn't he?" Several female voices shouted out in approval. "Well, it was a match made in heaven...for Sandra at least. You know how this goes...one thing lead to another and Sandra wins all his caps at the poker table. Isn't that sad?" More laughter and catcalls from the crowd. "Well, he has a wife and three kids to feed...don't we all?..so Sandra took pity on him and made him a offer....they would play one more hand and if he won, he got all his caps back and got to put Sandra to work for a shift, and pocket all her proceeds! Generous?" The crowd replied approvingly. "You're damn right she is! Out of the goodness of her heart, she even agreed to give him half of his caps back if she won...all he had to do is earn his "Rad Wings" with her right here, and right now, in front of God, Atom, someone best not Named, and whoever else might be up there, and everybody." He then added, "I don't think I have to explain who won that hand, do I?"

At this the crowd began to applaud, stomping on the floor shouting "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!

"Yes!", the announcer said, "It's Ghouls night out! Sweetie, take the Juice to the floor!"

A rather sweaty waitress, wearing nothing but high heels, strutted out to where the pair stood, holding up a tray with a single shot glass on it. She stopped before the couple and held it out for Sandra shrugged off the robe, revealing herself to be nude underneath, her radiation ravaged form adding to Billy's discomfort. Sandra took the shot glass, emptied it into her mouth, then placed it back on the tray upside down, and the waitress retreated. She then pulled Billy to her, gripping his head tightly and kissing him hard on the mouth, pushed her tongue into his mouth. At first he struggled to get free, but as the ant queen pheromones took hold his struggling became increasingly feeble, then suddenly he began to return the kiss heatedly. The crowd roared with approval as the pair, now both in the heat of chemically induced passion, began working together frantically to disrobe Billy without breaking the kiss.

"Aw look", the announcer said with amusement as things began to get really heated, "Billy seems to have made a new friend!" The music began again, at a low volume to avoid drowning out the main event.

The Mutant sighed with resignation. For some reason the Raiders here never seemed to tire of watching Wastelanders and ghouls fuck.....but at least they kept it consensual here. He'd seen far worse in his time. He then turned to the bar, and leaned on it with one massive arm.

"Peg here?", he asked the Bartender.

"Upstairs", he said, nodding in the direction of the second floor that had been erected inside he cavernous building, where the set leaders traditionally held court and plotted schemes with and against their neighbors. "She is "negotiating" with the Huntington Boys."

"Thanks", the Mutant replied, rolling his eyes as he got up to head for the stairs. Peg...or Butcher Peg to use her full name...was by far his most able lieutenant, but she was very ambitious. Her ambition and ruthlessness...and a lot of buffout...had gotten her out of slavery. Taken from a farm somewhere in Ohio in her teens, she started at the bottom as a slave who, when not being raped herself, made herself useful to the gang by volunteering to dispatch the other sex toys her gang had tired of and butcher them for their meat. From there, she worked her way up to being essentially a common wife for the gang..a small but important distinction as a slave could, and often was, killed on a whim but a "wife" could only be killed by order of the Boss...using that role to get enough support to win her spurs as a full member, and more recently, with some assistance from him...he had found it necessary to establish his authority by strangling her predecessor to death with his bare hands shortly after he arrived...rise to become the Boss herself. He was aware she had designs of eliminating Slade, the leader of Markle's other gang, and making herself Overboss of both gangs. While he could do without Slade....he was a hopeless Psycho addict and dangerously unstable, not to mention incapable of thinking strategically....the last thing he needed was a Gang War here. One look at a road map made it clear that one day, soon, Barnaky's Legions were going to be rolling up the Interstate and if they weren't ready he would squash them like bugs. He had already lost one war to that monster, and he wasn't about to lose a second. He had mixed feelings about the Cult...he did not approve of their methods...but he hated Barnaky with every fiber of his being and was willing to pay any price to bring him and his Regime down. The man had taken too much for him to ever let it go.

As he approached the crude wooden stairs, a pair of men in the colors of the Huntington Boys sheepishly descended the stairs, the rear one still fumbling with the fly of his road leathers. They nodded at him in acknowledgement, then scuttled away with guilty demeanor. The Huntington Boys had started just after the War as a "Farmer's Militia" to protect the settlement in Huntington...a goal they were quite successful at due to the presence of a National Guard Armory. But like such groups often do...when the threat they faced receded...they eventually became what they had originally banded together to fight, Raiders. Once Rocksalt left The Pitt to come to Fort Wayne, they, like every gang in the area, were faced with a choice between Rocksalt's way or the highway. They, having roots in the area, were one of the gangs that chose to serve....as Rocksalt was not concerned with the day to day affairs of his affiliates, it worked out for them quite well. As for those who didn't, they either left or ended up dead or on the auction block....he'd led several of the campaigns himself. Obviously Peg had been tipped off in the middle of her "negotiations" he was coming and sent them away....for now, at least.

As he climbed the stairs, he heard Peg's voice...a single word, "clean". Reaching the top, he saw Peg, nude and sweaty, lolling in her favorite arm chair. Peg was in her prime, a woman of about thirty, tall and well-muscled, even before her Buffout regimen made her look like a Amazon out of a Grognak comic. Her entire body, except her face, hands and feet, was covered in tattoos. Her head was shaved on the sides, the rest of her hear was left long and gathered in a pony tail. She was gently toying with the hair of her favorite slave Kitty, wearing a red sequin dress, who was crouched between her open legs, obediently carrying out her Mistress's order, while Peg watched with interest the show on the dance floor. The Mutant glanced over and noticed that Sandra and Billy had been joined by another female ghoul....before the chems wore off the hapless Wastelander will likely have been coaxed into servicing every female ghoul in the place....he would certainly earn his caps back.

"What do you need, Frank?", Peg asked distractedly, keeping her eyes on the dance floor. "I'm in play...House rules...you caught me naked. If you've got a token and looking for some...what was that word you used, frottage?...I've got the rubber sheets and Wesson Oil. You seemed to like that....I know I did." She chuckled then added sincerely, "No shit."

"I'm not here for that, Peg", Frank replied, "What are you planning with the Huntington boys?"

Peg leaned forward and reached over to the side table next to her chair with her free hand, and fumbled with a pack of Victory cigarettes and pulled one out and stuck it in her mouth, then settled back into her chair and turned to look at Frank.

"Spark me", she said. Humoring her, he picked up the battered old lighter from the table and lit her cigarette, then put the lighter down. Peg blew smoke in Frank's direction then answered. "do you really want me to answer that question, Frank?"

"Want? No", Frank said. "Need? Yeah. Just got word....Barnaky's people overran Castleton a few hours ago. Indy is cut off, now."

"Fuck me", Peg replied, exhaling another drag, "They're on 69 already? Seriously, what the fuck are those idiots doing down there?"

"I warned them and Rocksalt that this would happen", Frank said grimly, "And now it has. We're squarely in the path of a shitstorm, Peg, and I don't need the distraction of you trying to move up in the world right now. When the time is right, we'll discuss your future...but not before then."

"Alright, alright!", Peg exclaimed, conceding defeat, "You win!. I'll leave Slade alone until this shit is sorted." She then pointed at him. "but you know as well as I do that fucktard is a liability. You should have killed him too and you know it!"

"Baby steps, Peg", Frank replied sternly, "I could only kill one of those idiots....I chose Roach as a favor to you, and you'd do well to remember that! I..."

Frank was interrupted as the power abruptly went out, plunging the whole interior into darkness. At first, the reaction from the crowd was bemusement and irritation. Flashlights snapped on and one of the bouncers, flashlight in hand, headed for the back to check the breaker box as the patrons kvetched and catcalled at him.

"Why haven't the emergency lights come on?", asked Peg ominously. "They're on batteries...I had that shit checked out last week!" She then spoke to Kitty. "Stop that and get me a flashlight!"

it was then that one of the bouncers heading to the back suddenly cried out in pain and dropped his flashlight, which went skittering along the floor.

Then the music began....a recording of a wild martial air played on shrill instruments backed up with drums....and Frank's blood ran cold as he recognized what it meant.

And all hell broke loose.

As the infernal music played loudly, people below began to scream, and before long pistol fire began to ring out as frightened patrols began shooting blindly in all directions, hitting others and panic spread like a virus. Frank readied his Super Sledge and stood at the top of the stairs, trying to gauge where their unseen assailants were. Suddenly, someone wormed their way under his arms.

"Open your mouth, Frank!", Peg hissed. Though the request seemed odd, he complied, and what felt like a plastic bottle was pushed into his mouth, dumping pills into it. "It's Cateye...swallow it!" Frank did, and after a moment, he found he could see. Peg ducked out from under his arms, and grabbed the belt-fed 5.56 LMG that had been leaning against the side table. "there's a ladder in back that leads to the emergency lights...I'm gonna get the lights back on...you deal with whatever the fuck that is!" She looked over at Kitty, cowering nearby. "You hide!". she then darted off. Frank turned and headed down the stairs. Thanks to the Cateye, and the holes in the ceiling of the decrepit old building, he could now see. It didn't take long before he spotted the attacker...there seemed to be only one...running on a Stealth Boy, cutting down helpless patrons left and right as they darted about. Frank charged, and with a mighty roar, took a swing at the fast moving assailant that caught them unawares and sent them flying at least ten feet right into the jukebox, smashing it, and causing the shrill music to come to a sudden stop. The stealth field also dropped, revealing the assailant was a Assaultron, a Brotherhood logo painted neatly on it's torso. Frank snarled in triumph and rage, and rushed forward, winding up for another swing. But once he had committed to the swing, to Frank's surprise the robot suddenly moved, and the Super Sledge connected with the already ruined jukebox.

"Missed me, Mutie!", brayed the robot in an all too familiar voice, then it took a thrust with the sword in it's hand at his leg, which glanced off the armored plate on his calf, "You'll have to do better than that!"

"Fuck you, Fascist!", Frank retorted angrily, taking another swing, "You wouldn't talk that way if you were standing there, instead of being safe in your jar!"

"Did I trigger you, snowflake?", Barnaky sneered as he dodged the massive hammer, "Well, my pussy hurts!" He then added, "But as far as your accusation...I killed plenty of you..things..myself before I ascended, and I'm not nearly done yet!"

Suddenly, the lights came back on, revealing the carnage that Barnaky had wrought. Bodies were everywhere....and groaning wounded were crawling for the exits.

"Now that's just wrong....", Barnaky said with distaste as the robot's optical sensors switched back on from infrared and he could see all too clearly Billy and Sandra were still furiously copulating on the floor, completely oblivious to what had just happened around them, "What the hell is wrong with you people?" He then looked back at Frank. "Frank? Frank Mitchell? Yes....It is you!" Barnaky crowed with a laugh. "Outstanding! Today must be my fucking birthday!" The Assaultron's headlaser immediately began to charge, Frank dived for cover just in time as it fired a beam through the spot he had been standing a split second later, blasting a hole five feet wide through the far wall.

"Damn!", Barnaky exclaimed, "I missed!" He then looked over at the front, the commotion coming from the entrance made it clear that reinforcements were arriving. "It's been fun, Frank...but as I say, 'business before pleasure'.....got places to be, Ta!" Barnaky then headed for the door, but as it jumped through the still red-hot hole in the sheet steel wall, a burst of automatic weapons fire from the rear connected with the robot, blasting both it's legs off. Momentum caried it through, though. Peg, still naked, ran up to the wall and looked outside. The robot was actually walking on it's hands, heading for the old truck terminal, where they housed the ferals, at a surprisingly quick pace.

"It's heading for the feral pen!", Peg shouted as she raised the LMG to her shoulder and fired a long burst, "Stop it before it frees them!"

Frank charged past her, and out into the night....thankfully she stopped shooting. Barnaky was moving quickly, but Frank caught up without much trouble and a short swing wrecked one arm and the now immobile robot crashed to the ground. Frank flipped it over with his foot so it could see him.

"I bet you're feeling rather proud of yourself right now", Barnaky said, "You killed a robot...congratufuckinglations, Frank!"

"You'll pay, Barnaky!", Frank seethed, "For Lincoln, for the people you've just killed, for everything!"

"Your Cult friends gonna get revenge for you, Frank?", Barnaky replied mockingly, "Wake up genius, they're playing you like a sucker! Trust me, I've never lied to you...they're using you like a Jimmy Hat, and once they blow their goo in you, they'll peel you off their pecker and throw you aside without a thought! Ha!" Barnaky scoffed, "All you are is a pawn, fighting other people's wars...first for the Master, and now for that freak in Pittsburgh! Have you even listened to the shit they put out on the radio?" He then added, "I've always been true to my principles....you, on the other hand, you're selling out everything the MLA claimed to believe in, and for what? To get even with me? Guess what, Frank, I'm not the one pissing on the memory of your friends....it's you!"

"Shut up!" Frank bellowed as he raised the hammer and brought it down on the robot with all the strength he had, not because Barnaky was lying but because he knew what he said was true. His allies were just using him, and Rocksalt, and all the others. What hurt worse, though, is that it didn't even bother him anymore.

"Heh heh", Barnaky said, his voice now crackling from the massive damage the robot had suffered, "My work here is done....but it's gonna be a long night for you, Frank. Oh, yes... a long night indeed." with a wry chuckle, Barnaky's voice disappeared, replaced by that of the failing robot.

"Critical damage to all sub-systems", the robot said in the mechanical, female voice of an assaultron, "Mission complete. Self-destruction protocol initiated. ten...nine...eight..."

Frank ran back towards Animal Planet....when the count reached zero the robot exploded violently, and Frank felt the warm glow of the radiation from it's micro-nuke self destruct charge. He stopped and watched the small fireball boil up over the remains of the robot, a triumph if only a empty one. Peg ran up to him and stopped.

"Why was that robot talking like a real person, Frank?", Peg demanded, "What the fuck was that thing?"

"Barnaky", he replied softly, "It was Barnaky. He was controlling that Robot like a puppet."

"But why?", she asked.

A series of explosions just outside town, to the south....the exact direction of the State Route 3 Bridge....answered Peg's question before Frank could. They looked at each other in horror.

"The Bridges!", they said together. For the first time, they noticed the faint echoes of gunfire coming from far down the Interstate, which ran right along animal planet.

"Fuck!", Frank bellowed, "They're here to destroy the bridges!" Frank was furious with himself, he should have seen this coming. He turned to Peg. "I want everyone capable of carrying a gun and every vehicle in town still running in Animal Planet's parking lot in ten minutes!" Peg hesitated a bit, she had never seen him angry before. He then shouted, "Go!"

You got it, Boss!", Peg said, then whirled and ran towards the barracks as fast as her legs would carry her.

Frank bellowed in rage at the sky in helpless frustration. All he could hope for now is the bodies he had stationed at the bridge would be able to hold out long enough for them to get there.

Caesar's Tent - Camp of Legio I Arizona

Lucius's hands trembled slightly as he quietly read the report that he'd only moments ago been handed by a courier from the east. Despite his wounds, he had risen from his rest to take the Courier's message. Standing before him was his legate, Aurelius along with recently returned head of his Frumentarii, Vulpes Inculta. The two men stood silently waiting their Caesar's command, intrigued at what could have provoked such a reaction in their Imperator: a veteran Legion soldier and officer who had seen every horrid aspect of war first-hand. A man who had been nearly at death's door only days before.

When Lucius finally put down the note, he rubbed his forehead and gave himself a few seconds of collective thought before raising his head towards his two trusted subordinates.

"Do either of you know what this is?" He asked.

"No, I don't Lucius, but I'd be grateful to know what has captured your concern so," Aurelius replied frankly. Among the company of lower officers, Aurelius would never dare to use such a familiar tone, but as they were now: friends and comrades-in-arms, it was permitted.

"Its a report from one of my Frumentarii, is it not? Follows-Chalk, the eastern scout we sent along with a contubernium of legionaries to embed themselves in The Brotherhood's vanguard and observe the war."

"Correct," Lucius replied with a nod, "But more than that, its a work of horror that only the most depraved soul could have conjured in his mind. I would have it burned if not for the simple fact that its real. Follows-Chalk is an excellent Frumentarius and experienced scout, and he does not suffer from the superstitious beliefs that plague most tribals. I do not doubt anything he says."

"So then... the rumors of the Cult were true," Vulpes said with trepidation.

Lucius nodded slowly in agreement.

"So what is our response?" Aurelius asked, stepping forward, "What will The Legion do?"

"How soon can you march?" Lucius's words came without a moment's thought.

Aurelius grinned,

"By first light."

Sometime Later - Colorado Border, Along I-70

The long column of the marching legions snaked along the old I-70 interstate, disappearing and reappearing over the meandering hills behind it while the leading vanguard approached the border and the Brotherhood outpost stationed there. Well organized and disciplined, the column marched in formation seven men abreast, each Legionary carrying all his necessary gear and arms with him on his back, along with a makeshift shield fastened from Denver PD riot gear and painted red with the symbol of the bull. To keep in time and ensure a steady pace, the Legionaries sang in latin a Legion march alongside accompanying drumbeats.

At the head of the column amidst a group of heavily armored riders, sat Legate Aurelius and Vulpes astride two fine Legion war horses, a grim determination on both of their faces. As the legions approached the outpost, Vulpes broke away and rode up to one of The Brotherhood commanders on duty.

"Tell Lord Barnaky," Vulpes began, as his horse stamped the ground before him, "That the Legions of mighty Caesar have come. We march to the east, and to war."

With an acknowledgement from The Brotherhood officer, Vulpes grabbed the reigns and spurred his horse back to the formation, his cloak and dog's head hood catching in the bleak wind of the plains behind him.

War Never Changes the Great North West Exchange



Pouring himself a glass of hot apple mead while the pot simmered over the hot plate North turned as metallic rapping on the door began. With a slightly wobbly stride North walked towards the door and opened it with inviting Barnaky inside. “I don’t believe I have anything to offer, besides a seat. Unless you can still drink.” Gulping his glass as the metal cup was sat on the table North pointed towards a chair.

“Don’t mind if I do”, Barnaky replied as he took the seat he was offered and chuckled. “The seat that is….this body is just a robot. I’m stuck in one spot permanently, I’m afraid. They built these robots for me to help keep me engaged with people.”

“I hear you’ve met with the other Alaskans, Arctic Haven. And helped them out; to the point Alaska has is share of problems, geography among them it gives us a buffer between the other nations and unfortunately allows some groups to move quietly.” Setting a picture down that seems to have been taken from a high altitude, North slid it towards Barnaky lifting the two fingers off the table. “This, I believe is the last few working Submarines in this new world. And it’s in the hands of those who we fought, we being descended from the pre-war military organizations that is. The Chinese. To be more precise, the Empire of Zhang as they call themselves.”

“Yes”, Barnaky said, “I’m working on a project with Arctic Haven.” He looked at the photograph and whistled. It was obviously a nuclear submarine, and a big one. Back in Omaha, Barnaky sifted through the Calculator's database, speedily coming up with a match.

“When it rains, it pours”, Barnaky said. “It’s a Mao Zhedong class ‘Submersible Command Ship’. They were built to control a whole squadron of nuclear submarines, as well as provide repair and resupply services. We have some, but only a limited amount, of information on them. If this “Empire of Zhang” is operating one of these, that isn’t good. When, may I ask, was this picture taken?”

“Just last year, a float plane snapped it as it was on it’s way, just happened to spot something and got lucky. Likely they are cut off from mainland China if that even exists, and are attempting to conquer and steal in order to contact them, according to reports based upon what they’ve stolen and my own council’s speculation. All high grade electronics, communication equipment and tools. Every time they appear it’s where there’s technology and food. So that’s the only logical assumption I can conclude, normally if they asked nicely I’d help them go home, but they have continued their war on our people taking every chance they can to kill civilians unprovoked.”

“I’ve read the post-exchange bombing surveys that SAC did in the days after the War”, Barnaky said, “Back when they still had recon satellites over China. Very grim reading...they got it even worse than we did. If they are trying to send a message home….I doubt anyone listening will care about them anymore. But then perhaps they know that already.”

“I honestly don’t think they’ll listen and even if they have an inkling as to what happened, they might not want to hear about it from us.” Striding over to the hot plate to refill his cup North spoke turning his head slightly to face his guest. “Ironically the Great War that the Americans and Chinese fought saved Alaska as we know it, it gave our state time, time to recover from the plumes of smoke that filled it’s skies two hundred years ago, Polar Bears and many creatures were on the brink of extinction as mutated as they may be they survive. Funny, the second Ice Age saved my people, the Inuit and set us as the most dominant ethnic group since we were so displaced from the bombs we came out unscathed. Alaska has thrived in this post war world, due to its geography and natural resources and it has birthed dangers unknown to us. But we survive we prevail, now I ask your help in securing this sub, so that whatever dangers it may carry will not be unleashed upon this world a second time.”

“We’ll help”, Barnaky replied. “That vessel is nuclear capable and we should assume it is still armed with strategic missiles. They are not a threat to only your people….but everyone. Have you thought of approaching Arctic Haven as well? They have some specialized troops that could help. If necessary, we can hire them to assist.”

North hummed and hawed. “We have, considered it. But our terms have been standoffish at best, we try to keep out of eachothers way mostly just to keep tensions low. However manpower was never a real issue, pinning down the thing was. Basic fishing sonar is what we mostly have and we have only one vessel with military sonar to penetrate the sea. We just don’t have the power to search a wide swath of ocean to dig them out. Which, is why I wanted to ask you for aid. Tech has a hard time staying functional due to the extreme colds so the more sensitive something is, the more often it breaks down.”

“I see”, Barnaky said. “You need help locating it. We can help with that, as well as repairing the military sonar set or other equipment of that type you still have. I will have my people start looking into options to locate this vessel. As far as the gear they took, is any of it trackable, or capable of remote operation? Also, how often have these attacks been taking place?”

Taking his few steps toward his chair sipping casually at his drink North sat himself down, “some years every few months, others nothing, then near the end of the year they’ll pop up. I assume when they have the tech they want they hunker down and prepare until food runs short. They’re being rather active as of late perhaps we have a window of eight months before they hide again. And given the distance needed to reach Alaska, that’s a month gone in travel, thankfully you might have members there already so you know what you’ll need to prepare for gear wise.”

“Very well”, Barnaky said, “I will instruct my Paladin-General to begin planning a Technical Mission at once. If feasible, we would likely send a small advance party first, to work with your staff and establish a direct datalink between your people and my Command Staff in Omaha, as well as arrange the necessary logistical arrangements.”

North rubbed his beard and pulled out a paper map setting a cap onto a point of interest. “It’d be best to come by air, the Ted Stevens International Airport would accommodate a large airship or plane and allow us to move right to a nearby railway, our Vault is quite a ways off and takes a full day by rail assuming snow isn’t blocking the tracks. We’ll have quarters prepared for your arrival while the equipment will be unloaded and stored until needed. I do hope that shall be alright, any special requirements or demands your men will need? Allergies, or diet we need to cater to?”

“None”, Barnaky replied as he studied the map. “We prefer to live simply. We don’t have access to the Pacific, so coming by air is the only option for us. Once we’re set up, we’ll probably need a weekly flight in for supplies…..any spare capacity can be used to fly in things your people might need. We can also send in a tanker to top off your fuel bunkers if you’re short on aviation fuel.”

“No, we are good on fuel, though only one Oil Rig is currently operational. Last in existence I surmise. We’re currently not selling outside as we simply couldn’t keep up with demand.” North said cheeks rosy from his warm beverage.

“Any other issues you wished to discuss at this time?”, Barnaky asked in conclusion.

“There is something, I’d like to ensure the nukes if any are properly disposed off. And to have an observer report that they are no longer a threat.”

“We’re in perfect understanding then”, Barnaky replied. “The destruction of any nuclear weapons recovered from the Chinese was to be my condition...I can’t emphasise how pleased I am that you feel the same way.” He then continued. “I have trained personnel and procedures in place to dismantle them, and reprocess the cores into reactor fuel. You are welcome to send observers to witness the process.”

“We have only just now begun talks our first meeting has gone well enough and you have been too kind.” North said as he looked towards the window holding his cup with both hands as steam rose gently filling the air. “You have to realize as friendly as you are and willing to help I can’t help but be suspicious of ulterior motives. I don’t fully trust any Nation as of yet nor am I well versed in any of their histories, as an outside Nation to the lower states I need to be overly cautious. If I can’t be sure these nukes are gone, I am afraid I’ll have to find other measures to finally deal with this matter. I am telling you this because you too should be wary, making alliances too easily will prove dangerous unless you can properly ascertain the motives behind their olive branch. I seek the tech from that submarine, and am willing to share in that. Nautical Exploration, swift and rapid deployment. I could lock down my coastline well enough with a sub like that, but nukes. As thankful as I am to the Great War for the swift climate change pivotal to survival of Alaska’s ecosystem I would not want to see nukes again in any of my lifetimes.” North said placing down his cup his face stern despite the warm glow from his cheeks indicating his overindulgence of alcohol.

“My concern is that the nuclear weapons aboard are destroyed so they can never be used”, Barnaky said, “If the price of that is your people gaining possession of the vessel itself, then so be it. I would point out, however, that operating and maintaining a vessel of that size will be enormously expensive….I would caution against basing your defense on a vessel you cannot replace if lost.”

“Noted, If possible I wish to at least glean it’s construction that I may produce a smaller one if need be. If capturing it intact is impossible at least I could make a smaller more manageable submarine. Even the wreckage should provide enough for a small crew manned vessel.”

The Institute - Synth Retention Bureau

Director Thomas strode into the Synth Retention Bureau’s secure lab as the sliding doors hissed to a close behind him. He then continued onward down the short flight of stairs which led to the Bureau’s reclamation area. A set of empty glass holding tubes lined the small walkway that funneled to the centerpiece of the room, a neuro-matrix reconfiguration chair where Synths would be placed in order to be reprogrammed or wiped. The ‘chair’ consisted primarily of connection nodes which interfaced directly into the Synth’s spinal column, which meant the Synth would have to lay back onto these nodes in order for the connection to be made successfully and for the process to begin.

In this case, a Synth was already connected onto the chair and beginning the reprogramming procedure. Dr. Alana Secord, the newest Director for SRB following Dr. Ayo’s demotion, was standing by overseeing the process along with a Courser unit that was required to be present during reclamation and reprogramming: just in case any unexpected ‘erratic’ behavior resulted from the process, one of many such safety protocols that had been implemented following an extensive overhaul of SRB’s policies in the wake of Ayo’s demotion.

Thomas smiled as he examined the Synth attached to the chair, a grizzled looking man with scars and a patchy beard that looked exactly like a soldier who’d just crawled out of the trench after a six month stint.

“The Robotics Division outdid themselves with the physical makeup,” He said as he turned to Alana, “Exactly to specifications. Even down to the last dimple. It's hard to imagine a better rendition of a 'veteran soldier', just what I was looking for.”

“Yes…” Alana replied with a nod, “The tricky part of course, will be ensuring that we have the psychological workup of a Brotherhood soldier correct. We didn’t capture any during our conflict with them unfortunately, so we’re working off observational data only, along with your own anecdotal information of course Director.”

“It will suffice. How soon with the neuro-reconfiguration be complete?”

“Within the hour I suspect,” Alana checked the clipboard she was holding, “The armor and weapons kit that I requested produced by Facilities should be completed shortly as well. I believe it matches quite well with the equipment carried standard issue by The Brotherhood chapter that assaulted Boston.”

“If Dr. Li’s information is correct, then its unlikely the Midwestern group will recognize the difference anyway. They’ve been cut-off from contact for some time.”

Alana nodded in agreement, “In any case, the ruse will only need to hold for a short time. Once we’ve gathered enough intel about this new chapter, we can analyze the data and determine what sort of a threat, if any, they pose. With any luck perhaps we’ll get further information about other groups as well. As I understand it, this Midwestern chapter is the primary power in the central U.S. region.”

“If they’re a bridge between east and west, as I suspect they might be,” Thomas replied, “Then this could be a substantial intelligence mine. The Synths we sent to the meeting in Vegas indicated that The Brotherhood had dealings with multiple groups in several different parts of the continent. Most notably war with this ‘Cult’ group that everyone appeared to be losing their heads over. Perhaps we can finally get some detailed intel on that little mystery.”

“Robert House is included in that group of contacts, correct?”

Thomas’s look soured, “Yes...I’ve rarely had reason to doubt Robert’s judgement before...but in two centuries it's hard to say what he’s become. Either way, I can only hope his cooperation with The Brotherhood is a ruse, or perhaps he understands something that I do not about them. We’ll know soon enough.”

Footsteps down the stairs caused both Alana and Thomas to halt their conversation and turn around.

“The Bird’s prepped an’ ready to go,” Cait announced as she entered the reclamation room, “Took those damn clockwork Synths of yours long enough to get her fueled up, but she’s ready any time…..and I guess this is the lucky toaster your're sending?” She said as she looked down at the Synth.

“I wish you wouldn’t call them that…” Alana protested, “The Synths are highly complex synthetic organic constructs….hardly household appliances.”

“Tomato, to-ma-to. They aren’t human, that’s all I know. Maybe if you eggheads stopped trying to pass them off as humans, people would stop trying to break them out of here. That Railroad of yours probably wouldn’t be trying to free six foot tall spiders I bet.”

Thomas smiled, he enjoyed her somewhat...blunt opinion on matters, especially where it concerned The Institute. One lesson that The Institute had always overlooked, and thankfully his son hadn’t, was that sometimes an outside perspective was needed. Even if that outside perspective was mockery....mockery in and of itself could often reveal harsh truths.

“Unfortunately a six foot tall spider would hardly help this particular Synth’s mission my dear. While it might scare off The Railroad...I doubt The Brotherhood would be fooled into thinking that their eastern cousins had enlisted a giant mutant arachnid into their ranks. No matter how little contact they’ve had.”

“Hmm. So it’s one of those spy ones then? Suppose you’re trying to feel out this new Brotherhood group.”

“Exactly. And it needs to be a very good one if we want to ensure they're fooled enough to get the information we need.”

Suddenly, the Synth gave a jolt, and the connection nodes gradually began to withdraw from its spinal column. Alana checked the terminal readout,

“Looks like the process is complete. It should be online in 3...2...1…”

The Synths eyes sprung open and it began to stand up, unsteady at first, but the initial shock of re-initialization quickly wore off.

“Where...where am I?” The Synth said, as he looked around the room and at the strange individuals in front of him.

“Nevermind that now, do you remember who you are?” Thomas asked quickly.

“My name is...Robert Kyle. Lancer-Sergeant Robert Kyle, Brotherhood of Steel registration KT-351LS. Stationed on The Prydwen.”

“And where are you going?”

“I need to discover the whereabouts of the lost Midwestern Chapter and report the defeat of our forces in The Commonwealth.”

“And the details of the defeat?”

“Our airship was destroyed by an unknown group, possibly a local uprising, I was away on transport mission when the attack came. Communications were quickly cut-off and we lost contact with The Prydwen and all forces stationed at the airport.”

Thomas nodded in approval, “That should do it. Lets get it suited up and to the airport tarmac. J3-36: initialize shutdown.”

The Synth went limp and Alana walked over to finish her final inspection, “The memories should reset and re-initialize once J3 has left The Commonwealth. The time frame from The Brotherhood’s defeat to now will be explained by time spent with a fictitious group of hold-outs, of which ‘Robert Kyle’ will be the final survivor of. The Vertibird and his equipment has been appropriately ‘pre-worn’ as it were, to keep up appearances. Without compromising the integrity of the vertibird of course...we want him to make it west in one piece. Of course we’ll also be sending along a pod of Watchers to help keep track of J3, they should arrive shortly after the vertibird does.”

“Excellent keep me posted on any developments Alana. I’m very intrigued to see where this investigation will take us.”

“Hopefully you programmed him as a damn good pilot..” Cait quipped, “Otherwise he’s gonna be buried in a heap of fiery metal before he even gets there...”

I-70 Brotherhood Border Post - outside Bethune, CO

From the watchtower at the Border post, a small cluster of buildings beside and between the lanes of the old Interstate 70, two Brotherhood members watched the approach of the Legion.

"Impressive, isn't it?", Paladin Kaminsky said as she scanned the massive column marching East down the Interstate with his binoculars. "Hasn't been a organized force this large in one place in our lands since the Mutant Wars....even Maneuvers doesn't involve more than a couple Brigades at a time."

"It is indeed, Sister", replied Knight Amanda, who commanded the Office of War Information field detachment sent to record this historic moment for posterity. "Twenty-five thousand men joining the fight against the Cult changes everything....it'll boost morale at home greatly to know they are not shouldering this burden alone."

"It certainly boosts mine", Kaminsky replied, "I was in the Brimstone Brigade's Mounted Infantry Regiment before I was selected to enter the Order...I fought alongside the Legion in the Mojave War from Albuquerque until we pushed the NCR back to their side of the Colorado. They're real soldiers...Lord Barnaky was wise to get them on our side."

"People had their doubts when the Lord-Paladin chose to intervene in the Mojave War", Amanda replied, "Caesar, the first one, Edward Sallow, had a mixed reputation to put it mildly. We had to stretch the truth somewhat to make the argument that the Legion's virtues outweighed the vices. Lucius's leadership style is far more....helpful in our work when it comes to educating the public." She then headed for the ladder and added, "they'll be here soon, need to get everything ready to shoot."

"Right behind you", Kaminsky replied, "I need to notify the Sappers at Burlington that our guests will be arriving there in about 3 hours."

I-70 - about 20 minutes later

The guard did his best to look natural as the rider approached. The rider wasn't why he was nervous...if they had been enemies the small post would have been overrun in minutes, after all...it was the cameras focused on him and the knowledge that his family back in Missouri, not to mention everybody in the Order's lands, were going to see him in the newsreels made from this film. The Legion officer looked like something out of a history book, a mailed knight astride a massive charger. He stopped just a few feet before him, and the rider's keen, piercing eyes transfixed him from above the chainmail hood covering his face.

"Tell Lord Barnaky," the officer began, as his horse stamped the ground before him, "That the Legions of mighty Caesar have come. We march to the east, and to war."

"On behalf of the Lord-Paladin, and the Midwestern Order of the Brotherhood of Steel", the guard responded, as he gestured for the crossing gates to be opened, "We welcome our friends and allies of the Legion to our lands!".

Amanda grinned as the rider wheeled his horse and returned to the head of the column and it marched through the now open gates as the cameras rolled. As Kaminsky said, even though their equipment was somewhat primitive, their demeanor and discipline shone through..they indeed were real soldiers, not some Tribal or Raider rabble. Once again, the wisdom of the Lord-Paladin's policies had been vindicated.

Burlington, Colorado

The Sapper company, aware that the Legion force would be arriving in a few hours, raced to put the finishing touches on the campsite at the edge of town. Thankfully, the residents of Burlington had stepped up and were using their own wagons and vehicles to haul materials from the train parked at the siding in town to the site...it made things far easier. Expanding the site, used normally by the Barnaky Youth Corps for a summer camp, to accommodate 25,000 men for several weeks was a major undertaking. Going off plans provided by the advance Party the Legion had sent to make preparations, they had prepared the ground and then concentrated on ensuring proper drainage and sanitation, as well as adequate supplies of clean water, would be both ready and sited where they would be needed. Everything else would be done by the Legionnaires themselves, in the manner they were accustomed to, though materials sufficient to fortify the site would be pre-positioned to ease their workload. From here, they would deploy Eastward to a identical site being prepared in Danville, Illinois....the end of the line until the rail gangs could extend the rail net to their first stage objectives in Indiana.

Markle, Indiana - Police Station - 2:15 AM

"Nice shooter", Slade said as he picked up the battered AER-9 laser rifle from the pile of belongings and damaged electronics on the table before him and examined it, "even if it is beat to shit." He then continued. "So, where did you find this fucktard?"

"Down by Mt Zion, Boss", Luke said, "we were collecting the "insurance" payment from the squares there, when he practically dropped into our lap. He put up a fight, but we got to him before he could get into his suit so it wasn't long before we got a collar on him."

"You lost five boys, right?", Slade replied, "Heck of a fight, i'd say."

"He only shot two", Luke said, his face turning red with anger at the memory, "The other three he got with the bomb. Shithead triggered some kind of time-bomb in the airplane and didn't tell us. That cost me three good boys I had stripping the fucking thing when it went off. Boys tried to beat him to death on the spot for that...had a hell of a time stopping them before they could fuck him up too bad."

"Why did you?", Slade sneered. "Gone soft or something?"

"If he hadn't been Brotherhood, I'd have shoved a sign post up his ass and planted him alongside the road to die", Luke retorted hotly, "But I figured you, and the Big Boss in Ft Wayne would want him alive and able to talk!"

"Fair enough", Slade replied, it only then occurring to him that the Big Boss would reward him greatly for handing over a live Brotherhood soldier, especially if he kept Frank and that bitch Peg out of it. "Just fucking with you."

"OK", Luke replied shortly, deciding it was better to accept the excuse than to press the point with his dangerously unstable boss, "No harm, no foul."

"Lighten up", Slade said affably, for him, and slapped Luke on the back", I'll make good your losses...you did good!" He then continued. "One thing, though....don't tell Frank or that c..."

Slade was interrupted as a Raider burst in through the front door of the station.

"Boss!", the Raider shouted upon recognizing Slade, "we've got a problem in the barracks! A full blown gunfight has broken out inside, and the power is out on that whole block!"

"Fuck!", Slade bellowed, "That bitch Peg is making her move, I just know it!" He whirled to face Luke, and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You stay here and watch the fucktard...everyone else, with me!"

Slade, followed by the other Raiders, stormed out and headed for their gang's barracks in the old City Hall.

Luke paced around anxiously, making sure he was actually alone in the small building...aside form the prisoners...and wondered what was actually happening. Having pledged his support to Peg some time ago, enticed by her offers...not to mention her bed...he knew full well she wasn't behind whatever was happening, because the time wasn't right, yet. She needed Slade to fuck up bad enough to give her a pretext to take him out.

He went to the back to check on the prisoners in the old cells....not noting the front door quietly open, and then close again. Entering the lockup, there were four cells, three occupied. One cell contained two male Wastelanders, and another a single female. All three had been taken from local settlments as payment in kind for "insurance" as they didn't have enough caps or food to make the payment. they would be sent to Ft Wayne as tribute, to be sold at the Slave auction or disposed of as the Big Boss saw fit. the fourth was a grizzled figure, wearing a tight fitting black jumpsuit, who looked like he had been knocked around a bit, though not seriously. He glared daggers at Luke.

"Like your new home, Brotherhood bitch?", Luke sneered, "Well don't get used to it....we'll be taking you to Ft Wayne soon enough, the Big Boss will no doubt have some questions for you. By the time he gets down with you, you'll wish I'd let the boys finish you."

He had hoped to put a scare into the man, or at least get a reaction...but the way he responded was completely unexpected. Rather than fear, or anger, or false bravado, his eyes opened wide like he was suprised, and then he smiled a terrible smile. Worse, the other three prisoners began to react themselves, and the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end. He turned around to find himself staring into the emitter of the Brotherhood soldier's laser rifle, pointed straight at his face. Before he could react, the rifle fired, causing his now superheated brains to erupt out of the back of his head. Dead where he stood, Luke crumpled to the floor.

The Assaultron, stealth field off so the Brotherhood logo, and the name "Murphy, A.J.", neatly painted on it's chest was clearly visible, slowly lowered the laser rifle it had been holding out with one hand, and looked around for the cell controls, as the three Wastelanders clamored to be let out. spotting the controls, it casually threw the lever for all cells and all four doors crashed open.

"You three", the Assaultron said with a male voice that did not sound in the least bit synthetic, "go up front and arm yourselves but don't leave the building until I say so, if you want to live to see the sun rise....it's not safe for you to make a run for it yet. " It then looked at the Brotherhood prisoner and added, "Stay here for a moment, Brother."

After the Wastelanders scurried out as instructed, the Assaultron spoke again.

"You do not appear in our Codex, Brother", the Assaultron said, "Who are you?" it then added, "The short version, please...we have maybe fifteen minutes before the shit hits the fan here."