Fallout NV fanfic: Old Man Courier chpt 45

“Get your filthy paws off of me you damn barbaric Neanderthals!” Arcade yelled at the top of his lungs as he was dragged away.

They finally made it here, none of them could believe it. The one place that none of them wanted to go to. The one place they thought they would stay as far away as possible. And yet here they were.

“Get a move on!” One of the Decanii shouted, “Caesar awaits!”

They dragged them all up the hill in ropes and shackles. They had already been stripped of all weapons and potentially dangerous items in their possession. None of them were happy, least of all was Boone. He was absolutely furious actually. You could tell by the look on his face that he would rather jump off a cliff into a nest of Centaurs and have his face melted off than allow himself to be captured by the Legion. In fact, he’d already tried jumping off on several occasions during the trip to the Fort.

Ah yes, Fortification Hill – treated like a legend these days, a myth. But not in the good way. But still, one could behold onto the sight of this fortress and would still be in absolute awe. A tall structure that was built on the hard stones and boulders of a mountain, with tall and mighty fences that rose out of the ground and straight into the heavens. It told travelers stories, stories of hardship, of sweat and blood but most importantly it told a story of an empire. This was no ordinary power. Not like the Khans, not even like the NCR. This was the strength that had conquered these mighty mountain ranges – conquering the land itself.

You could hear them shouting over the mountains, the Legionaries in their camps. You couldn’t exactly see them but when you pause for a second to feel the dirt beneath your feet – the stomping of the hooves, the fights and sparring, the clash of the cold steel of the blades, the hammers, and their furious shouts for honor. Then there was the cold breath of the sweat and blood from all the slashes. Blood of the soldiers? Or blood of the slaves? Sol couldn’t tell from the smell. Regardless, he heard their mighty hooves shouting over this mighty mountain, the hooves of the bull.

The crew was led by ten strong Legionaries who in turned were led by a centurion officer. They were dragged upwards to this rocky hill, each steps heavier than the last and eventually – helpless.

They approached a large tent in the middle of this massive camp. There were two Veterans on the side, each with a mongrel to their command.

“The Caesar has summoned for you!” The Centurion officer pointed at Sol, “He have sent you an invitation not long ago, do you have it or not?”

“Oh,” Sol rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the pendant that Vulpes gave him, “is this it?”

“Indeed, profligate!” The officer said, “That is the mark of Caesar, a mark of prestige. So show some respect! Not everybody is fortunate enough to get a live audience with Caesar himself.”

“Alright then,” Sol said, thinking and trying to find the right words to not insult them, “so… um… do I go in now? Or do I wait for…”

“Yes, the Caesar has demanded your presence, but only your presence,” he then pointed at Sol’s crew, “they will be waiting with the slaves until Caesar decides otherwise.”

“WHAT?!” Sol and his crew shouted in shock, Sol then quickly said, “Look here bub, I don’t know who you think you are but I was invited by your master, so that makes me and my friends here guests. Putting them in with the slaves is quite frankly a huge insult.”

“Do not question Caesar’s will, profligate!” The Centurion said, “Being a slave is not a mark of humiliation, it is a great honor. Not everybody gets to be a slave, not everybody is lucky enough to be protected and cared for by the grace of Caesar’s Legion,” he then raised his right hand just before Sol could open his mouth, “I shall have no more of this! You either do as you’re told or the wrath of the Legion will be upon you. Caesar’s patience with you is wearing thin, so beware.”

Sol looked around the place, trying to analyze the Legionaries. They were well trained, he could tell. In his prime, he could’ve taken out most of the troops in this camp no problem. But the thing was that he was now older than dirt, and his current health conditions forbade him from even jumping forward two feet. He sighed in disappointment:

“Fine… I will oblige.”

“Come, the Caesar awaits.”

Sol then quickly turned around to his crew.

“Don’t worry guys, just do as these… gentlemen tell you to do. I’ll be fine.”

A lot of them wanted to say something to Sol, they wanted to discuss a plan but with the Legion hemming them in it was probably not a very wise choice. So all they could do was nod. Sol could still see Boone’s fiery anger in his eyes, his muscle tightening.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The Centurion led him inside the tent. There was an odd moment of silence as they walked through. Nobody said anything, but Sol could still hear the heavy heartbeat and the growling breath around him.

The old ranger saw a familiar sight when he entered the throne area. Even though he was overwhelmed by the amount of guards surrounding him he could still see that little devilish smirk shining from that sly fox Vulpes through the thick crowd. It was a look that seemed as if he'd just met an old friend, albeit a lot more sinister.

There was a particularly intimidating looking man standing to Caesar’s left. He was well-built enough but he seemed lean at the same time, Sol suspected it to be the work of old age judging by his beard and facial expression. He seemed like the man who had been walking into wars and bloodshed since he was a child. He was strong, his aura demanded respect and power.

But then when Sol turned his head 90 degrees to the right, he was shocked… and amused at the same time – Benny.

The little rapscallion was captured by the Legion, all tied up and with all his clothes stripped down. The boy was wearing nothing but a tattered piece of rag over his body. There were wounds spreading all over his body with small slashes and marks covering his forearm, he also had a black eye, something which Sol noticed when the little rapscallion looked up to see the old ranger. Sol could tell right away that Benny understood the irony in this situation, Sol gave him a slight smirk.

And then… behold! The sight of the mighty Caesar himself…

Sol honestly didn’t know what to expect when he heard of this Caesar. He heard the name long ago during his years, it was just that he never bothered to care. But now standing before the mighty conqueror himself was honestly… underwhelming.

Maybe it was just because Sol had this image of a mighty conqueror sitting on a throne high in the sky that challenged the heavens itself. A man so powerful that he could move mountains and vaporize rivers without even lifting a finger. But when he looked down to this man, Caesar. It just… didn’t feel right. He wore a garment with a thick layer of crow feathers and a round golden symbol attached.

He was bald and seemed very old and… sad. It was a queer thing to say, but it was true, his eyes felt weak and weary or perhaps they were eyes that were indifferent. Either way, Caesar was a strange specimen.

“Welcome… Courier… it would seem that we meet again,” Vulpes said, extending his arms as if welcoming a prodigal son, “behold, Courier, the mighty Caesar himself.”

The two men locked eyes with each other. Sol tried to stand up tall and firm, not revealing to the Legion his sickness. But Caesar… he was… strange. He scanned Sol from top to bottom as if suspecting something. He sat there on his throne pondering for a couple more minutes before he leaned over to Vulpes and asked:

“This is the one?”

“Yes, my liege,” he said, “I’d made sure of that, he has the mark. I gave it to him personally.”

“Hmm… doesn’t seem like much.”

“Well?” Sol suddenly said over their conversation, spreading out his arms as if presenting himself, “Here I am… and judging by the amount of guards you have here, I’m guessing um… er… if I’m not mistaken… you’re intending to kill me, aren’t you?”

“What? Oh, no, no, no, no, nothing of the sort. We would never do such a thing to somebody like yourself,” Caesar assured.

“Really? That so?”

But Caesar only responded with a chuckle, he wiped the sweat off of his forehead then said while smiling:

“After all… do you honestly think that I don’t know who you are… what you’ve done?”

“I… I…” Sol looked at him, he feared for the worst, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the one who’s been causing us so much trouble,” Caesar told him in a grim tone, “you’ve been loud… very loud. That whole shenanigans that happened on the Strip, how you entered an ancient tomb that’s not been opened for nearly 200 years like some moron left a key under the doormat for you… that caught my attention…”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Caesar said, “but the truth is that you’ve always got my attention… for a very long time now – you murderer!”

Sol widened his eyes, shock and chills filled his spine.

“That’s right… the one and only Legendary Red Eye in the flesh. ‘Tis a well known fact that my Legionaries are the most fearsome warriors that ever walked the wasteland. And do you have any idea why? Because the weapons that I’ve forged through my Legion are the weapons of blood, bones, sweat… and flesh. The reason why we are so much stronger than any other army – either the NCR or House or anyone else that we have or will cross paths with – is because we have conquered that which belonged to nature. Take the people of the NCR for example, the people of New Vegas. What do you see? I’ll tell you what I see, I see a bunch of fucking degenerates who does nothing with their time and resources other than waste it in consuming useless things; food, chems, sex, booze. They are like pigs, animals, maybe even worse. But my Legion… they are different, they have the ability to see pass mortal desires and needs. They live off the land, by the law of the land, with their dust returning to the land once their time is up. They have evolved… pass the fear of death, pass the needs of mortal objects and desires so that their minds and bodies can dedicate their maximum efforts to serve a greater cause for our society. That’s what empowers my Legion, we conquer… and we have conquered… and yet…”

He looked at Sol with eyes of contempt, then continued:

“Despite all our powers… you of all people bested them… not once, not twice, but multiple times! Our recent encounter was over five years ago if I’m not mistaken. But try as we might, we couldn’t even come close to scratching you. Heck… we never even managed to get anywhere close to you. Like I said… that caught my attention real good. Made me curious, curious to ask… what is this Red Eye? What is this man? Made me wonder about the limitations of man… and the way to break it… like how you did.”

It suddenly occurred to Sol that Caesar might not be aware of his illness. So there might be a small chance that he’ll survive this. The old ranger said:

“So… you know then… that I have the power to wipe out every single one of you people here.”

“No!” Caesar disagreed, “You may be able to kill the men, the soldiers, but you can’t kill the Legion, my Legion. The idea, the will of the people is stronger than you. Surely you must’ve realized that long ago when you mercilessly slaughtered countless of my men. You killed them all, that you did. But they never died off completely, we never died off completely, and here we are stronger than ever. Stronger than the mountains, stronger than nature… and I’m confident that they are stronger than you. And you know what the best part about this is? The best part is that your ass now belongs to me now.”

“With all due respect, Kaizar,” Sol said, and strangely without a hint of sarcasm, “I belong to nobody! And furthermore, if I’m going to be completely honest, I don’t really recall having a problem displaying my contempt towards the Legion, never have and never will. The last thing I'd consider doing is to serve someone like you.”

But then shockingly Caesar responded with a laugh:

“A walking paradox I tell you,” the bald old man said pointing at Sol, “you say that you hate the Legion, you don the coats of an NCR ranger and yet… you speak of Caesar with respect. Clearly the NCR flag that you’re carrying is not a mark of loyalty but instead a burden. You’re very strange, you know that?”

“What if I am?” Sol said, “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means that at the end of the day,” Caesar said, “we are not enemies. There is no reason for us to bear hatred and grudges against each other.”

“Are you actually suggesting an alliance between me and your tribe of… of barbarians?”

“Heh… ya know, I should you crucify with bold and reckless words like that. But you know what? Your attitude… there’s a strange fire to it – and that intrigues me to no end. Just makes me want to pry you open to see all your secrets.”

“Do whatever the hell you want, I don’t care,” Sol snapped, “but this alliance is simply impossible. I will not be condemned to the status of a lapdog.”

“Oh, no, you misunderstood,” Caesar spoke softly, “I am offering you nothing of the sort… how do I put this? It’s more of a mutual understanding than actual loyalty now that I think about it.”

“That still doesn’t change my hatred for you. What can you possibly offer me that will get me to endorse a tyrannical dictatorship like your Legion? You are a bloody tyrant, what makes you think that I will condone this cruel tyranny, this autocracy? Huh? You tell me!”

“And yet…” Caesar smirked with mischief, as if he had checkmated Sol, “you have no trouble working for a man like House. Last I checked… House is still not above using tactics of an… autocracy.”

Sol stayed silent, trying not to show weakness. He stared at Caesar with vicious eyes, but it only amused the man more. Caesar said:

“I know that you are a very clever man. You hide it well, but I can tell. Deny it all you want but I can see through to your heart. Come now… you know full well that in a desolate world like this wasteland there is no room for setbacks made by… democracies, free will. This isn’t the same world it used to be 200 years ago. It’s dangerous, new problems that cannot be tackled using the same Old World methods. New dangers arising from the waste that need to be taken care of. You try to emulate the politics of the Old World and you’ll end up repeating the same mistakes of the past. You know it deep down inside… don’t you? Come now… there is no reason to deny these claims… after all, isn’t that the exact reason why you are siding with House in the first place?”