New Vegas: Blood Trails

RavenJeanGraves

RavenJeanGraves

Where'd That 6th Toe Come From?
This is for the RPers who are CURRENTLY RPing in Blood Ties to show more of their characters background. If you aren't an RPer in Blood Ties yet, please don't post in here. You can once your character has been added in (do not add yourself).

Ok, this is for almost short story-esq snaps of your characters history, what they've done, what they were, what made them this way. Pretty much, whatever you want. It saves trying to make a flashback to get force in information you want the others to know. It's so much better to just write about it (and my girl doesn't do clear flashbacks).

Post as often as you like, as long as you like, and no need to be linear.

Looking forward to descending into the deep dark of memory lane with you all.
 
This is a younger, sweeter Yasmin then the one today. First time she learns the hard truth of being a raider: You're hurt, you're weak, you're worthless. The pack has to survive. One of her 'growing up and becoming a cold, hard, bitch' moments.

***

Kira screamed as the bullet struck her in the stomach and lodged. Yasmin dropped the rifle and ran over to her.

“Brix!” Rufus bellowed from further down the hill. “Get back to dismantling that shelter!”

Yas froze, halfway between the bleeding, sobbing Kira, and her sniper lying at her post. She bolted back and grabbed it then looked through the scope as she ran to the downed girl, firing at the weak plank of supporting wood that she’d been picking at. She hit it twice more and it gave way, bringing the tin shelter the NCR troops were hiding in crashing down on them.

The soldiers yelled as they tried to get out from the wreckage.

With the soldiers trapped and no longer firing, Rufus gave the order out to the gang and the raiders holstered their guns and drew their knives, moving it to butcher the helpless NCR.

Yasmin slung her rifle over her shoulder and crouched down to Kira.

The bleeding girl grabbed her leg and cried. “Y-Yas, it hurts! It hurts!” Blood was pooling dark red out of her gut and onto the dirt, staining it black.

Yasmin stared down, stunned. Kira was nineteen, only two years older than her, and here she was crying like a babe, pleading for her life.

“Shhh,” Yasmin cooed. “Shhh, you’ll be ok, lemme see.”

She pried the screaming girl’s other hand off of her stomach where she was holding the wound and looked at it. The hole was deep and blood kept flowing out of it, but Yasmin suspected she could get to the bullet. She took off her shirt and folded it up, then pushed it on the hole. Kira screamed and clawed at her hand.

“Ow, Kira, stop!” Yasmin commanded. “I need to apply pressure. It’ll stop the blood till I can dig the slug out.”

Kira stopped scratching and stared up at Yasmin, her eyes bulging out of her head.

“It hurts so much. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.” She fell into a mixture of begging and sobbing.

Tears bit at Yasmin’s eyes and they stung as her vision blurred.

Her heart leaped as she heard footsteps coming up the ridge. She looked over to see Rufus. He was grey, and grizzled and covered in scars. His gnarled face looked like a muzzle and his wild grey hair looked like fur. The leader of their pack. He reminded Yasmin of a wolf. He even had the yellow eyes of one.

He stalked up and stood next to the two girls on the ground.

“Rufus, Kira’s been shot. I can get it out, but we’ll need to get some med-“

He pulled out his magnum and shot Kira between the eyes. Blood, skull and brain splattered out everywhere. Some of the hot liquid covered Yasmin’s face. It carried the force of a slap as she sat there staring at the dead girl and watched as blood trickled from the hole in her forehead into her eyes, then out again like red tears.

“Yo-You….” No words could come to Yasmin’s mouth, they were all too tangled up in her head. She looked up at Rufus, in shock. The tears burning her eyes finally slid down her cheeks along with the dead girl’s blood.

“Yo-“

“I killed her.” Rufus growled through yellowing fangs. “And I’d kill you too, if you’d been hit. Out here you’re fit, or you’re dead. We don’t waste meds on dead girls, got it? If you break, you’re useless to us.” He turned and stalked off to claim the majority of plunder from the NCR camp.

Yasmin sat there staring up at the sky where Rufus’s head had been. He was like a wolf. And he was ruthless like one. You didn’t serve the pack, you got disposed of. A small price to pay for the rest to survive. That was his mentality. And it had worked.

Yasmin looked back down to Kira’s blood streaked face. He was an old fuck, but you didn’t get old without having something to you. It hurt, but it was a rule to live by. If Yasmin had been hit, she’d be dead. She had to be fast. She had to be ruthless and not let things like Kira – like this girl, bring her down. When you’re down, you’re slow, when you’re slow, you die. Survival at any cost, even those that tear you up.

But she couldn’t afford to be torn up. So the cost had to be greater than just other human lives.

She bit her lip and wiped the tears and blood from her face and stood up. Her knees were soaked with the blood that had spilled out. Yasmin hardened herself up and took a last look at the body. Then she looted the gun and grenade off her and left her for the scorpions, joining the rest of the raiders at the camp, yelling and fighting over the spoils.

As she walked down the hill to join the pack, she left part of herself up there next to the body to rot in the desert. [/i]
 
RANGER

Behind Enemy Lines

The Daecanus hadn't even seen it coming, nor had he even felt it. The tomahawk buried itself right in his forehead. The other Legionnaire had only turned when the 10mm silenced round entered his right eye socket. The falling brass and the muffled blast was merely a whisper in the dark.

The small Ranger Band had moved across the Colorado River and had gone past the abandoned fort to the Legates outpost in Colorado. It had supposed to have been a quick in and out mission.

The Task was to kill the Legate and as many higher up personnel as possible.

Six men.

However, like any good plan, it never goes as well as the highers put it on paper.


******

After a six hour stand off, apparently the Legion had been tipped off. They had been waiting and what ensued was an epic four hour fire fight. The Rangers had fought bravely and valiantly, Carib supposed that if this op had become public knowledge, it would be enshrined in the halls of memory back in California.

Of course, seeing his team dying, Carib couldn't think of tales of glory. Albert had taken a sniper's bullet to the head; Donald and Pierce both bleeding out but still fighting. Carib himself had been wounded.

Sam threw a ChinaLake 4rd grenade launcher to Carib, which he caught on the fly. Taking aim, he lobbed the HE rounds from the building down at the growing Legion mob.

Carib was ready for another round when his world went white at as rocket hit the side of the building causing the floor to break and everyone to fall down to the lower level.

When the Legion soldier came upon them, Carib grabbed his tomahawk and swung upward, the spike end hitting the Legionaire under the chin. He followed with a second motion into the chest of a Daecanus, the man screamed and Carib just went into him deeper, hacking.

He had felt and hadn't even seen the booted heel of a Centurian that had sent him sprawling. The Tomahawk had went skidding and Carib had reached for his side arm. He squeezed the trigger, but no more rounds.

When the boot hit him Carib went to the darkness. He could hear voices muttering in the language of the Legion.

******

When he came to, he saw he was looking down on a heavily armored man and his cohorts.

"You are worthy. But a Profligate Assassin nonetheless." The Legate said with admiration in his voice.

Carib just stared blankly at his captors and the large man who stood before him. Joshua Graham. Hadn't they killed him in Denver? Or was it two weeks ago Elliot had put a bullet in his chest.

Carib faded into the darkness.

********

LATER

"Car! CAR! Damnit, Carib, don't you fuckin' die on me." It was female voice, a familiar voice. A voice of an angel. A pair of strong arms hoisted him unto his feet, another set of arms encircled his waist and dragged him into a small dry cave.

Another familiar voice, "Come on, Car. Stay with us. You still got get your money back from that game of Caravan."

Another voice, "He's lost a lot of blood. Amazing he's even barely conscious."

Someone cursed, "Caeser on a cross."

*****

To be continued....
 
I've always wanted to show Tom's Talon Company background as it could reveal more about him as a character to you guys. You may be thinking he's being very ruthless compared to what I show in the RPG, but he never actually changed, he just doesn't show his ruthless side as much as he used to.

***************************************************

Story of a Talon Company Sergeant
Sergeant Thomas Daniel Searl
Age: 18

Part 1

Tom walked through the burning village, alongside his superior, Lieutenant Shaw, Shaw inhaled on his cigarette, blowing the smoke into the already polluted ruins, "You did a good job Tom, your platoon kill the lot of them?", Tom nodded slowly at his superior, he was sure he followed the orders word for word, letter by letter.

"Then what's that?" Shaw pointed at a quivering object in the corner of a distant building, scarcely held up by the shaking timbers. Tom looked at Shaw, "Sorry, sir, he must of hid him self during the attack, what should we do with him?", Tom looked up expectantly at his superior, Shaw was an excellent officer, giving leaves to Rivet City and Megaton when you did well, all of the men liked him, Shaw turned back round to look at Tom, breathing in heavily, "Didn't you read the memo, No Survivors", and with that Shaw walked off to inspect another building.

Tom walked slowly towards the shaking man, who backed further back into the debris as he hit the wall he knew there was no hope. Tom looked into the man's eyes as he got closer to him, "Why did you choose to be a raider?", the man looked around him for some safety, he looked Tom square in the eyes and spat on his face. Tom grimaced, wiping it off with his sleeves, the raider chuckled "You don't have the balls to kill a man looking you in the eyes!".

Tom laughed at what the raider had said, finding it extremely amusing, Tom pulled his pistol out of the holster and put the barrel into the raider's mouth, "You'd be surprised what some people would do", after waiting a couple of seconds Tom opened his mouth again, "Boom", Tom pulled the trigger, blowing the raider's skull across the wall behind him, the body slumped down onto Tom's feet, as Tom got up from the crouching position he kicked the remains of the dead raider aside.

A small, but athletic man ran up to Tom, "Sergeant, sir, I found this on the remains of one of those psychopaths", the man handed some documents to Tom, the writing on them was spindly, not well written, half of the words were spelled incoherently, Tom looked from the documents to the man, "Thank you Private". The private snapped of a quick salute before jogging away to further search the ruins.

Tom walked over to a desolate shackled house, separated from the rest of the cluster of houses, Tom crouched down, picking up what appeared to be the head of a teddy bear. The Sergeant sighed, placing the teddy head into the debris. Tom got up and looked across the ruins, brushing his hand through his hair. He looked towards the sign which signaled the entry point for the small encampment, 'Camp Rokket, If yer ain't no rayda go fuuk yerselvs'', Tom spurred his view to the gas station sign above the previous sign, the rocket was an insignia of petrol company before the war.

Tom walked back to the main group of people, "Alright men, we did a good job today, we've got another hour till' dinner is served back at camp, fortunately for us, the camp is 59 minutes away", the men of Tom's platoon cheered, this sort of operation was a daily occurrence for the men of Talon Company, tomorrow, who knows what'd happen.
 
Part 2:

Several Months Later

"Sergeant", the man shouted over the increasingly heavier fire, "The enemy have got us pinned down sir, where gonna' get butchered".

Tom reloaded his hunting rifle which was currently in a good condition, "With any luck we'll get reinforcements within the hour".

"Fuck the hour, it'll be twenty minuted before the enemy'll be mopping our remains off the fucking floor", the man raised his head to fire, only to have a plasma bolt slice his head clean off.

He looked around, men were getting slaughtered left, right and center, Tom didn't have a clue what to do. The enemy were clearly well trained, they had better equipment; power armour no less, but they weren't Steels, thats what worried Tom.

'Who could get this much fucking power armour without busting a gut?'', he thought to himself as he shot one of the enemy with his trusty rifle. He turned around to greet the platoon's radio-handler, "Radio command, we're pulling out this is too fucking risky", a grenade exploded nearby causing shrapnel to spire round the shack that they were holding.

Tom continued to fire into the enemies' lines, they kept on coming, but why? What could be so damn important about Fairfax?

Just as he turned around to raise the morale of his men a plasma grenade burst through the cover. "GET DOWN", it was too late. Tom raised his head from his position, his whole unit had been vaporised by the grenade. Tom didn't care anymore, he was going to run back to command, it wouldn't take that long anyway, if he didn't he was dead meat.

He burst through the shack door, immediately confronted by a man wearing black power armour, his orange perspecs staring down at Tom. Luckily Tom had quicker reactions and managed to shoot the man through his breather before he could raise his Laser Pistol.

Tom sprinted north, trying not to alert the enemy, he didn't care that Fairfax was 'essential' to Talon operations, he just wanted to get back to base, so he could get away from those men. Usually when confronting power armoured foes, Talon would outnumber them at least 2 to 1, but for some reason it was the other way round, there wasn't anything right about this it all.
 
David jumped off the vertibird, his power armour cracking the dry soil. The other members of his squad got off, and he signalled for them to follow him. He activated his helmets communication device.
"Command wants fairfax a research post. Theres a notable number of raiders here, as well as what seems to be a brotherhood of steel splinter faction. The raiders outnumber us, so don't get cocky. You all know I won't bother bringing your body back home."
The squad moved towards the small town of fairfax in a arrowhead formation. Once they were near enough, David took his helmet off and looked through his binoculars. There were 3 raiders near the largest building. David put his helmet back on and then moved closer, his squad following him. Given the circumstances, he decided against using his Laser Rifle. He pointed at the man nearest to him, and pointed where he wanted the man to go and who he wanted dead. The man nodded and crept towards the small group of raiders.

David hid behind the corner of the building, and then ran out. A raider turned to him. David threw his combat knife, and it made contact with the mans eye. The other raider, a female, swung around, but David had already thrust his leg out, hitting her in the knee, and pushing it backwards and snapping the leg like a twig. The woman cried out in pain, before David shot her in the chest, killing her. At the same time, the man had killed the last raider.
David swore to himself, knowing the cries for pain and his Laser Rifle discharge would've alerted the others. Sure enough, howls and laughter rung could be heard.
David shouted to his squad,"Form up!"
The enclave soldiers gathered in a line, prepared to defend the area. Raiders began to pour out of the building. True to their training, the men began firing, cutting through limbs and heads as the disorganised mess of rapists and murderers ran towards them.

The more sober members of the gang decided to cut their losses and retreat, firing at the soldiers to no effect before running down the streets. Finishing off the wounded, David and his men made their way through fairfax. Thinking their job done, David was about to order his men to leave, when a shot rang through the air and a bullet bounced of his helmet. He turned around, to see a man in pre-war combat armour aiming at him. He fired a shot at the man. The combat armour took most of the blast, and the man moved back, firing bursts from his chinese assault rifle. David and the rest of the squad started firing, cutting the man quickly. Walking up to the corpse, David saw that the combat armour was black with a claw on it. He recognised it as armour of the talon company, a merc group in the DC area. He realised that they weren't the only ones in the area. He quickly shouted to his men,"We've got company. Split into two groups, scout the area for anybody in black combat armour, and then we join back up in the town centre."

David went with the group heading towards the outskirts of the town. The man on point radioed David saying,"We have shack up ahead. The lights are on, and there seems to be several tangos in the building."
David acknowledged the report and gave his squad the order to engage. The men moved up and fired at a man standing near the window. The man was knocked over by the shot, and his team mates started firing. The shots bounced off the power armour of the soldiers. One of the men threw a plasma grenade. The object broke through a window, and a few seconds later, it exploded, disentergrating half the shack. The pointman moved ahead, and walked into the building. A shot was heard, and the pointman stumbled back, and then fell over dead. A young man ran out of the shack and away from the squad. They fired at him, but the merc was too fast and no shots hit him. Deciding not to pursue, David checked the dead pointman to see what had killed him.

Shit, he thought to himself, the bugger had caught him through the breather. He would have to talk to the techies about that. He looked to the other men, and said,"Take his body. We need to get back to command and report that the area is clear, and we don't have time to remove his armour and take it back. I'll radio for evac."
This talon company might be a problem, he thought to himself. Hopefully he wouldn't much of them.
 
Helios One. What marvels will we find here?

Nevest took his first step into Helios One, inhaling a breath of fresh air. He held it in briefly, exhaling as another of his brothers, a Paladin, shoved him aside. He admired their T-51b suits, how impervious they were to almost every form of attack and the sheer intimidation they imposed. One day, he would climb inside such a suit.

"Move aside, Initiate," the Paladin instructed him.

"Of course, Brother."

More of the suits, which had sometimes been mistaken for robots, poured into Helios. Following behind them was a proud Elijah, the appointed Elder of the Mojave chapter.

Elijah, that oddball.

"Hmph. Did you say something, Initiate?" Elijah asked.

"No, Elder, I did not," replied Nevest, secretly believing that Elijah had read his thoughts.

"Hm."

Elijah meditated for a moment before moving on, inspecting the terminals set up on the nearby desk. Nevest had never liked him, that Elijah. Something about him was just... off. Whether it was that he was a Scribe before being made Elder, or simply his interest in the technological avenues other than those of the weapon variety. But nonetheless, here he was, Scribe Elijah, an Elder. Although few openly opposed Elijah's position, more kept it to themselves.

----------

After a year of training, having already held the position of Senior Initiate, Nevest was being promoted to Apprentice Knight. He was given his own suit of T-51b powered infantry armor, the honor of which he reveled in. Soaking up all of the ego that came with his promotion, Nevest would remember this day for years to come. Another year would pass, manufacturing and maintaining weapons, with the occasional patrol being throw into the mix. Despite not seeing action against anything but a few adventurous fire ants, Nevest thoroughly enjoyed the time he spent marching in his power armor, outside the confines of Helios One's buildings. At the end of their route, Nevest would sigh, awaiting the next time to escape Elijah's playground.

----------

Nevest was stationed outside of Helios' fence. Besides standing stiffly with a laser rifle in his hands, and a back-up laser pistol he would sometimes tinker with to pass the time on guard duty, there was absolutely nothing happening. Nevest was walking back to the main building to request a break, but then, a small "poof" whistled through the wind. Nevest turned his head, but it immediately turned the opposite way as he caught sight of an in-air missile coming his way. The blast sent him flying -- flying being a few feet, for someone who was suited up in power armor -- and kept him immobile for a while as he tried to regain his senses. Looking to his Brothers that were guarding the door, he saw the horrific view of NCR soldiers launching a skirmish on Helios One. He felt the ground around him for his laser rifle, finally picking it up... only, his laser rifle had been reduced to the handle and butt. The only weapon he had was his laser pistol, which he considered using for a second, but then realized how fruitless such a defense would be. He got up and witnessed a few NCR soldiers getting slaughtered by a hail of laser beams, but then, the Brothers responsible for the kills began retreating back into the building. He looked back and saw nothing, so without a second thought, he ran North. He kept moving, stopping for nothing until he collapsed on the road to New Vegas. A few travelers passed, contemplating looting his armor and whatnot, until he chased them off with a warning shot of his pistol into the air. He got up, struggling to climb out of his damaged armor, but the wear of the suit was too great and so the chest piece, alongside much of the suit as a whole, fell to the ground. Panicking, he quickly scavenged rope and other items to rig the armor for whatever use remained of it, and journeyed further.
 
Journal Of Pawnsy
(Inscribed on the front)
"This Journal is to record my journey in case I end up a dead corpse floating down the Mississippi,If I do survive put this in my trophy room right next to my Golden throne and Hydra heads."

Day 1

Got a great deal from a local shopkeeper,he gave me extra supplies in exchange for that stupid brahmin those tribals gave me let's see if that reincarnation bullshit is true. Did I mention Hell?, It's what the locals call the swampland between Greenbo (My starting point) and Orleans (My destination). They say the swamp is filled with "Gators big enough ta eat ye whole" and something called the Bird Of Paradise, even worse they say a bunch of ghostly raiders by the name of The Klan patrol the area,seemes nothing but inbred hogwash to me.
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Day 3

I can already see why they call it Hell, the heat here in unbearable even to a wastelander such as me, to make it worse the land is more water and goo than dirt every step feels like it'll stick there.To make matters worse the trees here cover most of the sun adding to the scary effect.Still no sign of the gators or big bird,but I'm sure I should have given Cleetus my Poncho the things nothing but a big sweaty towel now.
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Day 15

Second run in with the Klan luckily I only ran across one of their warnings, they skinned a ghoul and hanged him(her?) upside down,beats Lars' "bloody stumps" by a long shot. Although I threw up this encounter still beats seeing them "float" by yards from the bush I was pissing on, lucky for me those sheets they wear don't let them see too well.
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Day 17

Had a close encounter with the Klan's home life appears they enjoy friendly activities such as torture, cannibalism, and burning ghouls on stakes, what nice people. (Note scribbled in from a later date) "Made me happy to see a gator sleeping on their old tents, the smashed skeletons nearby" Directions says I have 3-5 more days left, hope I get out before I meet Big Bird.
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Day 20

Actually met a Klan member face to face, clubbed his face in with my shotgun butt before he could do the same. After looting his body and walking away I heard a loud screech then branches breaking. I turned around to see the body gone and a massive hole in the treeline, I guess either Big bird is real or I really shouldn't have eaten that old mutfruit.
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Day 21

Met with a group of armored ghouls today, they almost shot me due to my poncho thinking I was a Klansman, they said they were the Orleans city guard and they would escort me back to the city for some caps, ghouls after my own heart.
 
Approximately 103 Days before Blood Ties
18:50
Denver, Colorado...


Tom was freezing in the soft mist of Denver, a horrible city, Tom had decided already, sky; dyed red from the fires dotting the ruins, fumes and mist; caused by the countless factories and explosions happening in the death-trap, and legion, lots of legion. Tom un-holstered his hunting rifle and swept the street with his view down the iron sights. He shuddered as he inhaled the fumes that flowed throughout the city. Vision, vision was spectacularly low, he could see, maybe fifty metres in front of him, a small glint distracted Tom, glancing at it, it proclaimed he was in 'Lowry Fields', didn't look like much of a field, Tom coughed again as he looked up at the smoke stacks, which were ominously still pumping out fumes.

He advanced, slowly, down the street, sweeping again every few metres, making sure a silhouette wouldn't form in the smoke in ahead of him. The recon armour he had salvaged in the Pitt was silently weighing his shoulders down as his joints ached, he needed a place to rest desperately, sleeping rough wasn't a good thing to do, and he was sure when he saw Rachael again she would scold him for it. He burst into a fit of coughing, finally it stopped after a series of splutters.

Tom swept the street again, no nothing, Tom was started to believe all the stories about it being a violent hell-hole were a bit rubbish. He started making his way further down the street, taking his time to make sure the ruined cars weren't booby trapped. Tom sighed, just as the bolt on his rifle popped off, "Shit", as Tom reached down to grasp the bolt, he heard footsteps ahead of him. He slowly raised the iron sights to his eye to sweep the street...again. One, two, three, four, five silhouettes, all of them rather bulky and mechanical. He overheard the talking to each other, "Are you sure you saw a scavenger in power armour here Alfono?", Tom intuition told him to pull back the bolt on the rifle, then an african american voice started, "Sure as the sky is red!".

Tom cracked his neck, the noise although quiet attracted the attention of the men in the smoke, "Who's there!", Tom heard first then followed by comments from the other four men, "It'll just be a dog", "We shouldn't take no chances", "I think we should get the fuck outta' here", "Quiet men, I think there is only one guy, encircle him", Tom saw his finger run a circle through the smoke.

He lowered his rifle and dropped it to the ground, pulling his hands into the air, secretly hoping to god, these guys weren't raiders or Legion.

"Men, lower your weapons, he's surrendering", the large leadership-figure strode out of the smoke, his power armour severely blackened by soot. "Chapter law requests that I tell you my details, before I ask any of you, Sergeant Paladin Rico Hernandez, Denver Chapter, Brotherhood of Steel", Tom blinked as he wondered if he was either off his head on jet back in Canterbury, or if this was real.

"Now your name? Where do you come from? Your affiliation?", Rico seemed like a straight forward man, and it was highly unlikely Tom would get executed just for passing through, but Tom realised what armour he was wearing and decided to play it safe, "Senior Knight Thomas Searl, Capital Wasteland Chapter, Brotherhood of Steel, I was sent to Denver to negotiate the return of the CW Chapter back into the Brotherhood council".

Rico sneered at the mention of the Capital Wasteland Chapter, "They turned rogue, plus why don't they have a working radio connection, they could've just as easily messaged the council's headquarters via radio waves", Tom's response was quick minded, and quick witted, "Our headquarters recently suffered from a power-failure due to a faulty generator, we've had some trouble getting the comms back online since then".

The Sergeant Paladin raised his hand to signal the rest of his squad to come out of cover, there were much more of them than Tom had seen originally, seven of them, they could've easily killed Tom if he had decided to open-fire, the commander started to point out names of the squad members, apparently it was compulsory for guests to know the names of the all serving men, and women in the chapter before staying in the bunker. Tom was silently thinking in his head that this chapter had far too many customs, finally as Tom's thoughts shut off, so did Rico's mouth.

"Come this way, I think you'll find our chapter rather resourceful", Rico signaled for his men to escort their new guest through the smog towards a rather large silhouette, Tom's mind nearly exploded at the view that had now greeted him. Tom looked around and realised the whole squad were laughing, one of the men patted Tom on the back as he exclaimed, "We found it on a scav patrol at a Poseidon gas station, damn lucky we found it before the Legion discovered it, they would probably deem it heretical or some shit and throw it off a cliff".

The vehicle was huge, it had four wheels, and as Tom observed, was created by the pre-war company, Hummer. One of the Paladins reached down to grab Tom, and pulled him into the cab, only six could fit in the cab, meanwhile, one paladin would be a spotter, sitting on the roof of the car, and the other remainder would be placed at the mounted machine-gun, also on the roof of the car. Tom nearly jumped a foot in the air as the car roared into life, and he slowly regained his 'cool' as he realised the whole squad was laughing at him. Tom patted the back of the driver's seat, "Hey, where we heading?", the driver chuckled as the engine roared.

"Denver Chapter HQ, where else would the we go", the car raced through the street, and at what Tom could tell through the speed device mounted to the dashboard, a whopping 60mph, Tom had never seen such a thing go this fast, the driver was clearly well trained as he veered and weaved around the wrecks and the skeletons of cars that littered the roads.

Tom slowly found comfort in the seat he had been occupying and, slowly, but surely nodded off...
 
Approximately 99 Days before Blood Ties
08:40
BoS Denver Chapter Bunker, Denver, Colorado

Tom was being dragged across the ground by two Paladins, both with anger on their face, one reached down and slapped Tom stiffly in the face, "Y'know it's a punishable offence to impersonate a member of the Brotherhood, you're lucky were not killin' yer!", the other Paladin continued the statement for him, "We weren't stupid enough not to contact the freaks over DC after your appearance here, they said they never sent out an emmisary", the Paladins now started swinging him, "Now fuck off!".

Tom flew across the street out of the bunker, and the door closed immediately after him. The only thing's he owned now was hunting rifle, a spork 'funny shits' Tom thought, and a single .308 Round, cunts. Tom got himself up and realised he was wearing some shit clothing that the Brotherhood had 'traded' for his recon armour. He started dusting himself down, and stumbled away from the bunker, making his way east, out of the town, he would reach his destination.

9:20
Dog Town, Denver, Colorado

After what seemed an age, Tom eventually reached a settlement, Legion run, didn't matter, Tom could make some sort of living in a few days, to get enough caps or Denarius, to buy some .308, clothes, and some supplies. The legionnaire at the gate greeted him, "Ave, true to Kaiser", Tom nodded and replied, "Ave...True to Kaiser". Tom used the Legion pronunciation as to not arouse suspicion from the Legionnaires.

Tom walked into the center of the trading town and recognised all the trading stalls. He could easily steal something then sell it to a different vendor, with the new money he could buy some supplies. He circled the stalls for some time, glancing at the Legionnaires, observing their route of patrol around the town. Here was his chance. He slowly walked towards a back-alley between two stores. Tom moved for the loosest looking back-door. He started fumbling with the lock with his fingers, working his only .308 trying to bust the lock.

Before he knew it, he was unconscious, and blunt object had hit him over the back of the head. It had hurt, a lot, it didn't surprise Tom though, the Legion was famous, or infamous for their law enforcement, Tom had just realised the shit he had dumped himself in. It was a surprise to Tom then, when he had awoke not on a cross, but on a bed, with what appeared to be a member of the Legion glaring at him, the Legionnaire grabbed hold of his jaw, "Who the FUCK, do you think you are, eh? No one steals in Legion land, but we got a use for people who break the law, it's your time to fight in the gladiatorial pits", the age in the Legionnaires face started to shows as he let go of Tom's face, "I myself used to spend a lot of time in the pits, that's why i'm going to train you, why would I train you, you may ask? Because people who win, survive, survivors get a place in the Legion, this would count as a recommendation on my side, possibly getting me a promotion if you turn out to be a good choose, training starts tonight, first fight, is tomorrow"...
 
Well, here it is. Chapter 1 of part of Jacob's backstory. Enjoy.

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

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Jacob encountered a small caravan and started traveling with them. He had met them on the border of Missouri and Kansas, and had decided to travel with them since they were also headed west. It had been almost eight months since he had left Chicago and the Enclave for his mission. In all that time he had been traveling alone, so it was nice to finally have someone to talk to. There were two of them along with the Brahmin pulling a cart, a woman named Karen and a man named John. As far as Jacob could tell the two of them were intimate if the noise they made almost nightly was any indication. But even through the sleep deprivation he was glad that there was not just one, but two other souls in this God forsaken landscape. At least out east there were some hills to break the monotony. Not out here in was used to be farmland if his history textbooks were to be believed. The Great War caused mountains to rise and fall from the Earth’s crust, and Kansas was as flat as ever. Maybe more so now that the entire place was a desert.

“So Jacob, what’s Chicago like?” Karen asked, bringing Jacob out of his stupor. Jacob had to think for a moment in order to filter his answer.

“I suppose at the very least it’s getting better. There’s a Brotherhood of Steel offshoot there now, they’re taking out some of the more nasty bits. Then again they’re pretty much ruling over the tribes with an iron fist. They didn’t take kindly to my tribe refusing; oh don’t give me that look.” Jacob said when Karen looked extremely confused at his claim of being a tribal. “Tribal’s the only word for it, we had access to advanced technology and education, it’s what gave us a leg up on all the others in the area. The problem is that the Brotherhood far outnumbers us, so I’m out here looking for a place to relocate to.” Jacob said, satisfied with his answer. He didn’t think he had given anything away that wasn’t already given away by his obvious level of intelligence over the average tribal’s.

Behind them the Brahmin gave a deep moo from one of its heads. Jacob turned around to give the mutated cow a look before turning again to view the road ahead. To Jacob’s delight in the distance he saw a pre-war home still standing.

“I don’t suppose you wanna just ignore this one Jacob?” John asked, knowing the futility of asking. Jacob had insisted on going into every single structure that was still standing and grabbing whatever bits of junk he thought were valuable. While they weren’t making as good time as they had been without Jacob, it helped to have an extra pair of hands and gun when fighting broke out, so John didn’t make much of a fuss.

“Not a chance.”

--------
Jacob opened the door and stepped inside of house. He coughed from the years of dust and mold buildup that plagued most pre-war homes. He pressed his glasses closer to his eyes and moved through the house. He found the kitchen and began rummaging though the drawers. He found a cooking knife in one, and some silverware in another. He stowed all of the silverware in his packs and stuck the knife in the wall. He looked through the pantry and found a can of apples, apparently canned by whoever had originally lived in this place, and a box of instamash. He looked under the sink and found a box of abraxo cleaner. He took these pieces as well and continued his search. He avoided the fridge, as his first experience out in the wasteland was one of a horror show held within an old refrigerator. And people thought the mutants were bad. He shuddered and moved towards the bedroom, removing the knife from the wall as he did. This room yielded less fruitful results. Any clothing that was here was completely destroyed after years of neglect. He had looked in the drawers of a nightstand to find some 9mm ammo however, so he collected it up and left the room. The last stop in his search was the bathroom, specifically the medicine cabinet. Inside he found a roll of gauze and some Med-x.

Overall he was pleased. The venture had turned out to be a profitable one at the very least. Perhaps they would eat the instamash with dinner tonight, and abraxo cleaner was always useful for general cleanliness which Jacob found the wasteland to be quite lacking in.

He heard a voice from outside, it was John.

“Hurry up Jacob or we’re leaving without you.” John said, his patience wearing thin with the scavenger.

“Yep, yep I’m coming!” Jacob exclaimed, and hurried out of the house. He stepped outside and brushed himself off.

“Find anything good Jacob?” Karen asked, more out of habit than any real interest. Jacob held out the small metal can.

“Yep, found us a little treat. I’ll show you when we stop to make camp.” He said, and headed over the cart that the Brahmin was hauling the cart. He proceeded to unload the salvage, keeping only the medical supplies in his packs. Afterwards he fell back behind the cart, content to give John and Karen their space. He wasn’t sure if they were married, or just together out of convenience but it was still nice to have people around who were shooting the same things he was.

--------

“Who are you?!” the man yelled at Jacob, gun in hand and pointed at the new arrival.

“I’m just trying to get out of the rain!” Jacob exclaimed. The storm raged outside and a flash of lighting illuminated the cave far more than the small fire that burned between Jacob and the two others. He saw the man, who was standing closer to the fire and the woman who was close behind him with her own rifle pointed at Jacob.

“Yeah sure, probably a raider thinkin’ that we’re easy prey. Well we’ve killed plenty of raiders in our time, one more ain’t gonna make a difference.” The man spoke out at Jacob.

“How dumb do you think we are? You don’t survive in the caravan business without having guts idiot.” It was the woman this time.

“I’m not a raider! Unless going into abandoned houses is raiding! From what I’ve seen I’m a damn scavenger! Just let me-” Jacob took a step towards the two, the woman fired a shot that whizzed uncomfortably close to Jacob’s right ear.

“That’s your warning shot!” the woman screamed “You don’t get another!” Jacob took a step back, then a couple more for good measure. He wasn’t looking to get himself shot, not after all this time.

“Okay, okay look! I’m backing off, just, just put the guns down and let’s talk about this!” Jacob pleaded, he wondered if they would try and rob him. That’s how the wasteland seemed to work. You screwed over enough people and eventually you could stop.

The sky released more of its fury, the lighting once again lighting the cave with its cruel blue light, followed by thunder that Jacob could have sworn he felt more than he heard.

“For God’s sake don’t make me go back out there! I’ll share some of my supplies if you just let me wait out the storm!” Jacob begged. Hearing the desperation in his voice, the other two in the cave seemed to relax a bit. The man lowered his gun, though the woman kept her sights trained on what Jacob could only visualize as his head.

“Karen, I think he’s alright, probably just scared of being trapped out there. I know I would be.” The man said, and lowered his SMG, though not holstering it. “Come into the light so I can get a look at ya, no sudden moves.” The man added, tightening his grip on the gun. Jacob obeyed cautiously, and stepped into the light of the fire. It was when he could actually take a look at himself that he realized how wet he really was, drops of water fell off the brim of his fedora.

“Take off the hat.” The woman demanded.

“What?” Jacob responded.

“I said take the fucking hat off! The glasses too!” She ordered.

--------

The three of them made camp at sundown, and Jacob produced the can of apples, grinning as he did so. John also smiled at this and Karen’s delight was hardly contained.

“There’s not much, but it’s something sweet at least. Better than the stuff we’ve been eating the past couple of weeks.” Jacob said.

“I’ll say. I can’t remember the last time I had real apples and not that candy stuff.” John said. This was a rare treat indeed. Jacob opened the can and dished out the apples as evenly as he could.

“I guess we were lucky Jacob didn’t want to ignore the house then aren’t we?” Karen said, giving John a playful punch of the shoulder.

“Yep, having a scavenger travel with you pays off every once in a while.” John said. “Not too often though.” he finished, poking fun at Jacob’s greedy tendencies.

“Just every once in a while is definitely not giving me enough credit my friend. Mine is a noble and honest profession!” Jacob said with dramatic flair.

“Yours is the profession of picking at the carcass of a dead world.” John retorted.

“A dead world’s all we’ve got John, might as well use what’s available!” Jacob said. John was about to respond when Karen cut them off.

“How about you two do something useful like get a fire going while I go get us some meat?” She said, hunting rifle slung over her shoulders. “You can philosophize all you want while you get our camp set up.” She said, and headed off into the distance.

“Bossy as always.” John said, and produced a tent from the Brahmin cart. The Brahmin in question was off a little ways grazing on some grass that had managed to grow. One head ate while the other kept watch. Occasionally it would switch duties, but it was a relatively safe place to bed down for the night, and the Brahmin never wandered too far from its protectors.

In the distance they heard several shots from Karen in the distance. They looked in her direction and saw her shooting at something, what it was they couldn’t be sure but it was apparently something she wanted to eat. The two men had set up the tent, and Jacob had laid his bedroll out near the campfire. Not long after the shooting Karen returned with three giant mantises in tow, and threw them on the ground near the fire.

“Get ready to eat good tonight fellas” She said before producing a knife and removing the forelimbs from the mutated insects. Jacob dug in the cart and produced a frying pan and the necessary ingredients to fry them up.

After the meal of mantis and instamash, the group settled in for the night. Jacob slept near the dying campfire while John and Karen took the tent. While setting up camp John had mentioned that they would arrive at a city in the next day or two, and Jacob found himself looking forward to this. It would be his first experience seeing what kind of cities the remnants of the American citizenship had managed to create.


--------


“It was called Dodge City in the ol’ world.” John said, pointing at the city in the distance. “It’s mostly ruins now, but there’s a settlement that’s grown up in the past fifty years or so. Most people jus’ call it CTH now, that stands for Central Trading Hub.” John said, filling in Jacob on bits of knowledge from years in the wastes.

“This is the last major settlement before the Colorado border. After that it just gets more and more barbarous.” Karen added.

“Ain’t much better down south.” John continued. “There’s this slaver nation, call ‘emselves ‘Caesar’s Legion’ bad bunch, the lot of ‘em.” Jacob was disheartened to hear that. “But, ya get past the Rockies, and you’ll find the NCR, that’s New California Republic. I’ve never been, but I hear they’ve got the area pretty much recivilized, lot like the world before the war.” Jacob didn’t feel like mentioning that “recivilized” wasn’t actually a word. However he got the sinking feeling that if there was an entire new country that dominated the west coast, then the main Enclave stronghold was probably compromised long ago. It would explain why they dropped out of contact.

“Anyway, give me your salvage Jacob, I’ll see to getting a good price for it all.” Karen said, changing the topic.

“Huh? Why can’t I do that?” Jacob inquired.

“You’ll want Karen to take care of your bartering Jake, she-”

“I told you not to call me Jake.” Jacob responded, and Karen snickered. John shot her a look and turned back to Jacob.

“Fine, sorry. The point is Karen here can get the best price for just about everything. I can guarantee that if you gave her a price for what yer stuff’s worth she’ll come back with twice that.” John said. Jacob gave Karen an incriminating look. She could see what he was thinking and quickly responded.

“And no, I don’t do that.” She said. Jacob continued to look intently at Karen, and then began to rummage through the salvage, picking out what he felt he could part with. He had scavenged up quite a few guns and had repaired them up to usability, and had even found an ammo stash which he had promptly looted. Most the ammo was unusable by the three of them, and Jacob put those with the guns. After about half an hour of rummaging, Jacob had made his choices, and the three of them entered the CTH.

--------

Jacob stood with a look of shock and awe. Karen had more than come through for him. All in all he had guessed he had about 1000 caps worth of goods, Karen had gotten thrice that. He backed up and fell onto the bench nearby and just kept looking at her, mouth agape.

“Jacob if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were grateful.” Karen mused, and dropped the sack of caps into Jacob’s lap. “I took some of the money as a seller’s fee, but there’s plenty in there for you.” She had taken some and there was still this much? He took the mouth of the bag gingerly between his fingers and felt the weight of it, unable to guess how she could have gotten that much without selling her soul.

“But… how?” He managed to ask.

“That’s my little secret Jacob. Now I’ve gotta go meet up with John for some caravan business. We’ll meet you at the Mole Rat bar once we finish. It’s just down the road there.” Karen said, pointing east. In the distance he thought he could see a sign with a mole rat painted on it, or at least something pink. Karen waved goodbye to Jacob and jogged off in the opposite direction. Soon Jacob lost sight of her as she ducked into a crowd and beyond.

Jacob remained on the bench for a while after she had gone. Jacob smiled, enjoying the weight of the bag. It seemed that traveling with those two caravaners had more perks than he had originally envisioned. A man walked by and took notice at the jingling bag on Jacob’s lap. Jacob gripped the plasma pistol holstered on his leg and glared at the man from behind his glasses.

“Keep it moving buddy.” Jacob said calmly, trying to warn the man that he was very much aware of the look he was giving the sack; it was one Jacob himself often wore. The man’s eyes widened at the sight of the pistol and he hurried along his way. Jacob chuckled and put the bag safely into some empty space underneath his armor. He stood up and stretched his arms into the air and gave a satisfied groan. Smacking his lips he headed off in the direction that Karen had indicated. He looked at the city around him in amazement. He had not entered a bastion of civilization in almost a year, choosing to avoid towns and settlements if at all possible while he traveled alone. While the occasional deal with a traveling merchant kept him supplied he had avoided the cities due to suspicion. If he ever made it into the NCR as John called it he may be more willing to enter a city. Out here though the barbarism made that a risky choice, and the only reason he was even here was because the two he had grown to trust had vouched for it.

--------

Jacob awoke to the sound of the two others he had shared the night with packing up camp and getting ready to continue on. Jacob felt awful; sleeping on the rock floor of the cave left him feeling as though he had been hit by a bighorner. He sat up and watched the others gather their things and load them into the brahmin’s cart. He wondered how he had missed seeing that last night, and it had been very quiet the entire time. Then again last night the two of them had their guns pointed at him so he forgave himself for the lack of perception. The man turned Jacob’s way and noticed the newcomer watching them.

“Storm’s over, time for us to part ways.” He said, and headed out into the new day’s light. The woman lingered a moment longer, then called for the Brahmin to follow her and she also stepped into the open air. Jacob rested against the side of the cave wall then mustered the drive to stand up as well and head out.

Jacob found the two conversing over a map, apparently debating where to head to next. Times like this were the exact reason that Jacob was glad to have his Pip-Boy. Jacob brought it up so that he could consult the map, from it he could tell that the road he had left to find shelter wasn’t too far north of the cave entrance, and he headed for it. He’d follow the roads west until he reached the coast if he had to. He had to find others in the Enclave. He checked his radio; it was set to the channel that the Enclave had their broadcasts tuned in to. It had been nothing but static for the eight months that he had been out in the wastes.

As he passed them, he gave a glance towards the two he had sought shelter with. They seemed to be ignoring him, and that was fine. He headed off on his own once more, and towards either the Enclave, or the next big find, whichever came first. He felt regret that it would almost certainly be the latter.

--------

Jacob found the Mole Rat and opened the door to the bar. The smell that greeted him was fitting for a place named for such creatures. The stench made his nostrils burn and his eyes water. He saw a large man slumped in a corner covered in what Jacob could only assume to be his own filth. Why Karen and John wanted to meet up here was beyond Jacob, but he approached the barman anyway and found a relatively clean stool to sit on.

“What’ll it be?” The barman asked with his heavy accent, cleaning a mug with a rag. Jacob was surprised that was a reality, not just something you would see in old films.

“You got water?” Jacob asked.

“Yep, norm’l ‘n’ da good stuff, norm’l’s five caps, purifahd is twenty.” The barman replied. Jacob ordered the purified water, and paid out the caps from the sack. The barman took notice of the jingling bag. “Ah’d keep dat tucked ‘way if I was ya. Plen’y o’ guy’s roun’ here who’d love ta git der hand’s on dat kinda cash, ‘cludin’ me. But Ah ain’t gonna rob ya fer it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jacob said, and took a sip from the glass he had been given. The bartender had at least been honest, the water was purified, his Pip-Boy made no objections to him drinking it, however it seemed one of the other patrons did. A man with long blond hair and an unshaven appearance drunkenly staggered over to Jacob.

“Well lookie here, we gotsh ush a fanchy-pantsh, too good fer irradiated water?” The wild looking man slurred out.

“What I do or don’t drink isn’t any of your business buddy.” Jacob said, his eyes visible to the man from the side gave a glare of absolute contempt. “Don’t make it yours.” Jacob finished.

“What, ya think ya can schcare me? I’m a TIGER man! We run dis town.” The man said, shoving Jacob a bit.

“I’m going to give you one more warning to get your inebriated butt out of my line of sight before I reduce you to a pile of glowing goo.” The man leaned over the counter to look Jacob in the eyes.

“Oh ish dat so?” the man said. He seemed to back off a bit, but Jacob heard the sound of a knife being pulled from it’s sheathe. Jacob whirled and slipped into V.A.T.S., the Pip-Boy augmenting his aim with the plasma pistol. He fired off two shots, one in the torso, and one at the head before the Tiger gang member could react. The man’s body began to rapidly melt from the plasma bolts and collapsed into, as Jacob had warned, a glowing green pile of goo. He went over to it and picked up the knife that had fallen from the man’s hand as it had given away, and brought it back to the counter. The bar that had momentarily fallen silent rose back to its previous noise level as if nothing had happened.

“How much water will this get me?” Jacob asked.

“Anudda glass o’ da good stuff.” The bartender replied, and placed another glass next to Jacob’s unfinished first, taking the knife in the process. Jacob finished off the first glass and moved onto the second.

“So what’s a Tiger, they a gang or something?” Jacob inquired.

“Yeah, dey tink dat dey run da place. Little do dey know dat mos’ people got ‘em figgered out. Got more bark dan bite. Dey tink dat havin’ da name means people got’s ta respect ‘em or sumptin. Der boss is a nasty piece o’ work, but dat’s ‘bout it.” Jacob nodded, and went back to his drink. He hadn’t been intending to get drunk when he had come here, and now he was sure of it. He was actually surprised however when the bartender decided to strike up an actual conversation with him. “I ain’t never seen ya roun’ here b’fore. Ya just blow inta town?”

“Yes. I’m here with a couple of caravaners.”

“Ya’re a merc den?” The bartender asked.

“Scavanger.”

“So how’d ya end up wit’ caravanahs?”

“Just kind of fell in with them, we were all headed west so we just decided to enjoy each other’s company.”

“Why ya here alone den?”

“They had some business to take care of, told me to wait for them here. You get a lot of caravaners through here?”

“All da time, it‘s real good fer mah business. Caravan season come roun’ an’ Ah got me plenny o’ customers.”

“They told me this is the last city before the Rockies… that true?”

“To a point yep. Der’s dah NCR on dah udder side o’ da moutains, but dem’s dangerous roads. Bedder tah go sout’ through Caesar’s lands. Dey treat der women like Brahmin, but as a man, ya should be able tah get through widdout much issue.” Jacob was beginning to get worried about the legion. Some nutjob tribal had obviously heard the stories of Julius Caesar and had decided to set back humanity even further. But if his maps were right, getting to the east coast by going south and hooking around through the Mojave would be the safest route. It would mean he’d have to part ways with Karen and John beforehand though, if what the bartender was saying about how the legion treated women was correct.

“Well, I guess that’s where I’m headed at least, any advice for the trip?”

“Yeah, ya see a legionnaire down dere, ya best be on yer best behavior. Dey don’t like drugs or alcohol or nuttin’. Ya be real nice ta ‘em an’ de’ll leave ya alone.

“Sound advice. Here’s a little something for cleanup and as thanks for the advice.” Jacob said, and put down fifty caps for the bartender, who quickly swept them up as though he had been expecting it.

“T’were mah pleasure” he said and went to take care of his other customers.

Jacob continued to think about what to do next, after an hour in the nauseating bar had passed he felt as though he had gotten used to the smell enough to ask for some food. He ordered some squirrel stew and another glass of water, coming out to be about thirty caps. He happily ate the stew, despite the Pip-Boy giving its complaints in the form of the Geiger counter ticking at him. As he finished he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and he turned around expecting to see on of the Tiger gang members trying to pick a fight, but instead found Karen grinning at him.

“Hey, sorry it took so long Jacob. We had some deals that needed some... persuasion to finish, but that’s the caravan business.” She said, though the way she said persuasion made Jacob think that the deal hadn't gone quite that smoothly.

“So what now?” Jacob asked, he had just finished eating but was unsure if John and Karen had themselves.

“We found an inn that had a couple of spare rooms. We got one for you and another for us. We’ll head out again tomorrow morning.” She said.

“Well then, take me to the inn; I really wanna get out of here” Jacob said. He was looking forward to the smell of fresh air.

--------

The inn was a motel on the outskirts of the city. Jacob had expected something within the city limits, but had realized once they had left that there was no place for the caravaners to stable up their Brahmin inside the city. He also realized that many other caravans were doing likewise and either going to an inn with a stable or just camping outside of the city itself. Jacob had a room that was situated two over from Karen and John’s, and from the window could see the light’s of campfires for what seemed to be miles. The caravaners seemed to make the ground itself light up with stars. Most of them would be headed back east once their business here was concluded. It was quite a society that had been born in America after the bombs fell. There was currency, and a robust trading network. If John was correct there was also an entire country that had risen from the ashes of the United States like a phoenix, and was rapidly spreading.

It was that kind of thing that made him feel as though the Enclave, and by association himself were just a figment of the past. With their recent defeat on the east coast it seemed to be true. The Enclave was dying, and if they had any chance of surviving, they needed to regroup. The technology that they hold could do so much for the wastes. But first the members had to be found, and they were spread all across America. His best bet remained with this “NCR” if the Enclave had ever settled down; it would have been within a new country. It was worth a look at the very least. If his search yielded no fruit, he’d head back east and south. But that was planning too far ahead in a world where you never knew if you would even survive the next day.

Jacob closed the curtains to his window and fell onto the bed, too exhausted to even remove the sack of caps from underneath his armor.
 
72 Days before Blood Ties
12:02
Flagstaff, Arizona

Tom stared out into the expanse of the wasteland, his new leather armour, shining in the dim sunlight, clouded by the smog which covered the Legion capital. Footsteps sounded, lightly, behind Tom. He continued staring into, nothingness, well nothingness dotted by the few Legion patrols, but nothingness, nonetheless. The footsteps sounded closer, Tom had nothing to fear, or no one to answer to, so he would not turn around in response. His eyes shifted to a Legion patrol which had alerted the another patrol, what enemies could they possibly find in the middle of Legion occupied land?

"Congratulations on winning your freedom", the footsteps were closer, and they talked at him.

"Thanks you", Tom paused, yet continued looking out at the wastes, "Who are you?".

"Wouldn't you face who is talking to you? I may be a person who demands respect", the voice continued, "After all, you're in Legion lands..."

Tom suddenly realised who the voice belonged to, and swiftly turned his body around to face the footsteps that talked, "Oh shit, you're one of the Praetorians that guard the Kaiser", Tom knew this as he had often seen the man standing with Caesar, often, bearing arms, "My respects..sir".

The Praetorian chuckled, "No, honestly, watching you fight, was an honour, you fought brilliantly", the Praetorian looked directly into Tom's eyes, "By the Kaiser himself".

Tom's eyes immediately widened into disbelief, "What would the Kaiser want with me, i'm just a freed gladiator, I shouldn't even be relaxing, I should be with my decanii, training!".

"Well, i'm not at liberty to tell you why he wants you...but, I can say I do know why he wants you", the Praetorian smiled at Tom, as the young, freed gladiator's eyes widened even more.

-------------------------------------------
14:11
-------------------------------------------

Caesar's villa was beautiful, in comparison to the rest of Flagstaff. The entrance, was a long, straight, newly tarred path, leading towards a gleaning marble arch, which surrounded a gleaning and polished mahogany double-door. Several feet left of the path, was a rather large man-made pond, which was coupled with newly planted ferns, and palm trees, both were vibrant in the smog of Flagstaff. Inside the mahogany double-doors, was a long marble-floored room, with a desk at the end, manned by what appeared to be an agent of the Frumentarii. All sorts of people sat on the long benches which lined the walls of the room, they ranged from caravaneers, to mercenaries, even to tribal leaders.

The Praetorian lead Tom towards the desk, and glared at the Frumentarii, as if he was a lower-class to the guards of the Kaiser. The Frumentarii commented first, "Do you have an appointment with the Kaiser?", a smug look plagued the middle age Frumentarii.

"As it happens, no, but as a Praetorian..", the Praetorian glanced back at Tom and smiled, "I order you to let me in".

The Frumentarii looked aggressively up at the Praetorian, "You have to have an appointment with..", he was interrupted swiftly by the Praetorian.

"Just write my visit down in the entry book, and shut up!", the Praetorian guided Tom past the Frumentarii, who clearly had a dislike for the Praetorians.

The Praetorian started talking to Tom, just in earshot of the Frumentarii, "Don't worry about him, the Frumentarii are always on their high-brahmin, dicks they are", Tom could clearly hear the Frumentarii grunt in return.

Soon the two of them were in Caesar's room. Everything was perfect, and symmetrical in the room. Every piece of furniture was made of wood, and upholstered with leather. There, on another similarly perfect desk, was Caesar, writing in what appeared to be a memo book, and Caesar clearly had trouble writing, as he talked as he had written, "...we were surrounded, fortunately the former Legate Graham managed to alert the Sun Foot tribe to our danger...", then he looked up at the Praetorian, and smiled.

"Ahhhh, Praetorian William Davison Verdun, I hear you wife has opened a store in the Bazaar, maybe i'll visit her later, help with the business", Caesar's view shifted to Tom, and again he smiled, "Tom was it? You know Tom, Joshua Graham, the former Legate, he was an excellent pugilist, he fought brilliantly with his fists, and in a melee, armed or not...", the Caesar stared blankly at Tom, "...do you know what I am getting at?".

Tom looked at Caesar and nodded, "Yes, sir".

"Speak up, boy!", Caesar chuckled, "I'm not going to beat you for talking to me, anyway, to the point, it is not disputed that you're a brilliant fighter, much like Graham, and guess what, Graham started as the original Praetorian, my bodyguard, then he was elevated as my co-leader as we became closer, I hope you're bright enough to follow me".

Tom swallowed, he knew what he meant, but he could tell Caesar wanted to tell him, himself, "No, sir".

"You're lying, but, I may as well say it, to make it official, I want you as one of my Praetorians, although this may seem brilliant to you, but your training will be stressful, hard, but it will be rewarding for you in the end, a chief part of Legion society is but one of the rewards", Caesar smiled as the look of disbelief contorted on Tom's face.

Tom looked up at the Praetorian, who smiled back at him, and then patted him on the back, then whispered in his ear, "Good luck".

Caesar continued, "I will personally interview tomorrow, to see, if your mentality fits in with my other...praetorians". The Kaiser continued writing in his book, and under his breath, he was speaking, "...the Sun Foots charged out of the bush, lead by the Legate himself, crying vigorously, ancient war cries...", he then looked back up at Tom, "You can leave now...".

----------------------------------
71 Days before Blood Ties
13:56
----------------------------------

The Kaiser was writing, and speaking under his breath, obviously several chapters ahead on his memoirs, "...the land was black, and cracked, horrific. Bodies littered the ground...", Caesar looked up at and smiled, "Ahhh welcome Tom, please, sit". Caesar offered Tom a wooden chair, again upholstered in brahmin leather.

Caesar dropped his biro pen on the table, obviously salvaged rather than made in post-war. "So, what do you think about the Legion? Honest now, I know when you're lying to me".

Tom replied quickly, a sign of nervousness, as the Praetorian had point out several hours ago, "Well, erm, well, it's a new country, which is rather apparent, at best, I see it is several steps forward to other nations in the wastes, but, at worst, at worst, I see it as the same as other nations in the wastes", Tom was proud of himself for his impressive lying skills, hell, even John would be proud.

Caesar replied as swift as Tom, "Good, not brilliant, but it's a lot better than some answers, next, the obvious interview question, where do you see your self in 5 years of serving me?".

Tom looked up at Caesar again, and conjured one of the biggest lies he would ever tell, "Waving the banner of the bull, on the senate building of Shady Sands"....

-----------------------------------
16:23
-----------------------------------

"Well, you seem good enough...actually, I rather enjoy you're open opinions, the way the other's do so, it patronises me", Caesar looked disdainfully at portrait of the head of Frumentarii, Vulpes Inculta on the east wall of his room. "Fair enough, they serve me willingly, I just...", Caesar paused for what seemed like a long time, but was only a few seconds, "...I just, think they should be a little more open with me, anyway, you should leave now, you have the rest of the day to yourself, rest, prepare yourself for training tomorrow".

Tom got up out of his chair and walked towards the door, behind him, the voice of Caesar writing his memoirs, "...littered the ground, charred, maimed, it was horrible, I knew it meant war with the Blue Foot, or was it Blue Feet?..."...
 
(This is set just before David leaves the enclave, and gives his reasons why)


David never liked being out in the wasteland without his power armour. The large amount of super mutants meant in downtown DC and the police station on the outskirts of the city meant that getting to the areas where the ‘near-humans’, as the brass called them, lived was difficult. Add to that he was only accompanied by one enclave soldier. He would’ve preferred a reaper to go with him, they knew what they were doing, and they didn’t order him around. Most of the NCOs and officers assumed that because he was a Corporal, they had authority over him. They only embarrassed themselves when they learnt he was the leader in the field.

He had chosen a private, somebody Williams described as good at following orders. He hadn’t bothered to learn his name. He probably wouldn’t see him after this scouting mission. They approached the wrecked half of an aircraft carrier the locals called Rivet City. He looked at the ship. It would’ve looked a magnificent when it was functional, David thought to himself. Trust a bunch of near humans to take this piece of military technology and turn into a cesspit, fit only for living in now, and whatever decadent things they did as well. He felt the 9mm pistol stuffed in his jacket pocket. You could never be too sure when near these… mutants. He had been ambushed before when patrolling. They had looked like normal people, but they shot his companion and David only just managed to kill them, even then he took a bullet in the leg.

David spoke into the intercom.
“Hey, we’re some mercs, just come down this way from Canterbury commons. We’ve had a hard time avoiding the raiders and super mutants, could we stay here for the night.”
The man standing across from them on a small platform on the side of the ship, said, “Um…. ok just let us lower the bridge.”
Sure enough, David heard 200 year old metal creaking and the bridge was laid down before them. They walked over to the man.
“Hey, you don’t need to ask if you can stay here. As long as you’re sincere and you don’t look like a raider you can come on in.”
A surprised look came across David’s face. He hadn’t expected that. He thought that the locals would be suspicious of outsiders, and that he would have to persuade them to let him and the private in. They seemed so nice. Was this really the…. Enemy they had been told about? He didn’t know whether to call them that. He could understand fighting raiders, super mutants, and the brotherhood of steel; they were threats, things that needed to be removed in order to make the wasteland a better place. Colonel Autumn had told the Reapers these things himself. But what seemed to be a couple of guards and possibly civilians? This didn’t seem right to David.

The opened one of the carriers doors and entered the area, known as the marketplace. He and the private walked down the stairs. Nobody stared like he expected, they just gave the two men a fleeting glance and went back to their jobs. Seeing a bar, David gestured for the private to follow him. They sat down on some stools, and a teenage girl walked up to him. She was attractive, blonde. She seemed distracted, her eyes giving quick looks at a young man across the room sitting at a table. He was a Hispanic man with black hair. He wore a Latin, or Christian as it was known pre-war, cross around his neck, and was reading was seemed to be the bible in between bites of insta-mash.
She quietly sighed and then looked David and said, “Hi I’m Angela, I’ll be your waitress for today. Can I get you boys anything?”
The private shook his head, but David said, “Whiskey on the rocks.”
Angela looked at him in confusion, and replied, “I’m sorry, why would you have rocks in your drink?”
Dammit, He thought. He was in danger of giving himself away. These locals didn’t have ice, or even seen an ice cube.
David quickly replied, “It means I want to have ice with my whiskey. Umm… We were at the commonwealth earlier this month, and they had a machine that’s makes these frozen water blocks called ice cubes. I got used to having it with my drinks; I guess old habits die hard.” He laughed nervously.
Angela looked at him, half suspicious, half confused.
She then said, “Whiskey it is then”, and then walked over to the fridge, which didn’t seem to be working.

David let out a sigh of relief and relaxed. He noticed the private staring at him in disbelief that a reaper, a veteran and Special Forces member, had almost given them away. David scowled, and didn’t say anything. Angela handed him his whiskey, after paying for it, with bottle caps, David started drinking it, while looking around at the marketplace. He saw a clothes store, a guns store, and this bar they were at. He couldn’t see them, but he heard people playing snooker in the back ground. As he thought about it, he realised, that take away the rusting walls, the makeshift shops, it wasn’t that different from life at raven rock. He saw friends laughing and drinking beers, girls peeking at that boy they liked. Two kids ran past, a boy and a girl. David frowned at the sight. This wasn’t the enemy. These were normal people, trying to get on with their lives. These weren’t near humans, these people are human. These were the people of the United States of America, and the enclave wanted to get rid of them. David had been sent here to scout this location for an attack, its hidden entrances, how strong was the hull. But looking at the people living here, David couldn’t find a good reason to attack this place. Why would the enclave do this? Wasn’t enclave trying to make a better place? I need time to think about this, David thought to himself.

They stayed there for a few more hours and then left. People said goodbye, and asked them if they wanted to buy any ammo. As they left the ancient ship, David couldn’t help but feel guilt and disgust. These people had let them into their homes, and he had been planning to kill them. He thought back to other missions. He had once called in an airstrike on a village. The Brass had told him it was a hideout for the brotherhood of steel. What if it wasn’t? Was that a lie as well? He thought back to numerous other occasions when he had attacked places without questioning orders. He started to feel sick. He was murderer, no better than the raiders he killed. No, they were on drugs and a product of their environment. He had been sober and thinking straight at the time. He could’ve prevented those deaths; all he would’ve had to have done was think. Think about why they wanted this done? Why did these people deserve to die? He was the very thing he fought against, because the enclave had lied to him and he had believed them, followed them blindly. And now, what about Rivet City? These people had done nothing wrong. He couldn’t condemn them. He thought about his report. Luckily the private would see what he was going to write, and he certainly wasn’t going to inquire. He followed orders, and didn’t ask any questions. Just like he had done. He say the mountain where Raven Rock was, and he knew what he had to do.

“And sure there is no way to destroy it, Corporal White?”
David replied, “No, sir I looked at the aircraft carrier, and even after 200 years, its still too fortified. The guards have a bridge that needs to be lowered to get in. We wouldn’t have a chance. Besides, they won’t be able to do any harm to the Jefferson memorial, what with our energy fields and all. They are harmless, but they have a fort to hide in, and with our forces divided, we should wait until the brotherhood is out of the way until we attack it.”
“Very well, corporal.”
Captain Williams signed the report. David saluted and then turning around left. Now that the destruction had been delayed, Rivet City was safe. Now all he had to do was warn them. He couldn’t get a patrol near there, the brass wanted to keep all of its troops in reserve. The brotherhood was planning something. He would wait until then, to desert and try and stop this… madness. He smiled. He still felt guilt over what he had done, but with luck he could warn rivet city. When that was done, he could go west, and atone for his sins. Maybe he could do some good out there. The enclave tried to wipe the west coast. He could go there, and live in peace. And hopefully, he would never have to meet another enclave, brotherhood or anybody from the east cost while he was there….
 
FIRST BATTLE OF HOOVER DAM

Holding Carib between them, Katja and Gonzalez they saw what the noise was all about. The Legion was marching across Hoover Dam. "Son of a bitch," Gonz muttered. They crept to the side of the rock face and rested Carib. He was still weakened. Normally people died when taken down from the cross. Somehow, both Gonzalez and Katja knew that Carib was holding on to something for him to survive.

Katja quickly stuck him with a stimpak in the meaty part of his leg, her eyes were worried and she looked to Gonz.

"They're moving across the River," She said lowly. She didn't have to have her sniper scope to see the Malpase Legate leading the charge. Joshua Graham had to have been the most cold blooded individual since the dreaded Frank Horrigan.

"Spirits be with us."

Carib's eyes had opened for a brief second and he beheld her face, smiling weakly the darkness took him.
 
August 27,2259. Orleans City,Louisiana


"Just sign here...and initial there.....and finally sign there.." Pawnsy scribbled in his name where the ghoul asked. " Congratulations by the honors vested in me by our Governor Francis Garvey,you..." The ghoul admission worker looked closely at the paper. "Pawnsy Leon are now a full citizen of Orleans ,we thank you for your years of service etc. etc. As a gift from the Governor yourself you are granted a place of residence within the city proper" Pawnsy left the booth towards the chain link gate,in front of the gate there were a few other ghouls and even a couple of stupid humans rattling the chains hoping their protests would win them admittance.He ignored them as he marched by them his "nose" lifted up in a snooty manner,he knew the only way the guards would let them in,he himself had to yell it when he was a guard millions of times before he'd shot someone stupid enough to try and climb the fence.

The city wasn't crowded it was just the "Governor" decided you shouldn't come in unless you had a use,which either amounted to trade visits or 5 years of service in his guard. Most of the "protesters" were newcomers who didn't know the law of the land. Most people who wanted in who'd been outside the fence after a few days lived in normally slum named The Squat Pawnsy knew what it was like to live there,the place wasn't as miserable as you'd think it was just a small community squatting outside the gate hoping to get into the main city or make their,it wasn't going anywhere soon. The way most people ascended was when recruiters came to "town". Each recruiter carried a list of what they needed,being the bigot he was Garvey asked for ghouls of various skills. Pawnsy was lucky for a week after he came to the city a recruiter was yelling out for two things a medic and a technician,that's where Pawnsy met Morrison.

Morrison was the epitome of a ghoul,short,bald,melty faced,and stick skinny,and best of all born before the war. Standing next to Morrison made Pawnsy look like a burnt human at best,probably the reason the why he took Morrison with him when they went to "pickup some ghoulettes." When the recruiter dismissed the crowd Pawnsy and Morrison where the only two still there. "Which one's which?" the recruiter questioned his thick spanish accent echoing in their ears, Pawnsy walked forward and extended a hand "Pawnsy Leon wasteland M.D" The recruiter was unphased,his eyes went to Morrison. "And you must be our technician,si?" The recruiter asked his si slashing Pawnsy's ears with the hard sss. From that day forward the two were thrust into guard service being promised "10 years here,30 in the city"

The two were assigned to a skimming unit,a group of one or two squads who's duties alternated between excursions into Hell and wall duty,Pawnsy loathed wall duty but Morrison loved it. The only time their feelings switched was during raids,they usually happened at night when the clan decided night would make it tougher to get shot,they were wrong. The city was surrounded by a thick concrete wall about a story or two high,the walls themselves were surrounded by a minefield with only two avenues safely leading to the city,one of which was a river with water described as "bein able ta melt yet toes off". The raids were short and were more of entertainment for the sleepy citizens,and target practice for the lucky guards as the spotlights spotted masses of sheet clad mobs which were quickly mowed down by the bloodthirsty guards. The one thing Pawnsy and Morrison could agree on were how terrible the excursions into hell were.The patrols sent two squads of guards into the swamp to clear the area so flamethrowers could burn the trees thus extending the fields around Orleans. The heat was unbearable and each trunk seemed to harbor traps,if the group was especially unlucky they would get ambushed most veterans don't speak about what happens in those nightmarish moments,even Pawnsy was tight lipped about,making him even happier to be done with his service...at least for the next 30 years.

As the simple chain gate was opening guards rushed behind him to keep the "rowdier" citizens out,Pawnsy continued his dignified walked. He passed by the inns which housed mostly traders from upriver, "suits" is what everyone refers to them by due to their radiation suits they wear to protect against the ever present radiation within the city. Pawnsy reached his second to last desination,the residential assignment building,that's one thing he learned to hate of this place there was an office for almost everything. Inside he was greeted by a rusty ceiling mounted fan which blew cold air through the lobby,he took a seat next to another ghoul sporting an eyepatch "Hello Morrison how's it going my favorite cyclops?" The ghoul gave him an evil grin "I'm going to laugh my ass off when you lose your eye,probably be this one too" He extended a finger in front of Pawnsy's right eye almost poking it,before Pawnsy shooed it away. "You probably would laugh your ass off you raggedy piece of shit." They both laughed loudly causing the others waiting to look at them with confused looks on their faces. The two ghouls were ready for their new life away from the terrors of the waste,instead living their lives in the relative luxury of Orleans proper.
 
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