Fanfic Blog?

- It all began with one raid on a profligate town that seemed to have no problem trading with drug runners and the like. It should have been an easy job taking out a town of less than 20 people not counting the gang.

- The Legate didn’t account for one thing. Your band of mercenaries guarding the town were near invisible when his second in command formed a sudden hole in his trachea and fell at his side when surveying the town from a nearby hill.

- The trail of the bullet came from your rifle. You weren’t close but he could see the rude gesture you made from an old water tower with a smile on your face.

- He had to guess by your accuracy and the helmet you wore you were likely NCR trained. Bold. Fearless, as much as he hated to admit that about a woman, much less a profligate.

- One by one over the coming days your unit picked off members of the Legion by the dozens. He thought he would lay siege to this pitiful settlement but it really seemed his troops were the ones truly under siege.

- This had to end. If he didn’t do something you would probably reduce his Legion to none. One morning he walked forward in full regalia holding a white flag in hand, stopping 100 feet before the town gates. No one shot at him. If only he knew how badly you wanted to do it anyway.

- After some time, 3 people came out of the gates to meet him. The elder of the town, a member of the gang, and you, gun aimed at his head as you came out of the safety of the town, expressions suspicious.

- Now that he got a good look at you, he was sure of two things. You were beautiful, and it was going to be a difficult endeavor dragging you back to the Legion and bedding you. But surely worth it.

- You eyed him with an expression of disgust, posture tall and commanding for a woman barely 5’4 while the elder asked what the Legate wanted.

- “I’ve come to discuss the terms of your surrender.” He said through the metal plated mask on his face which was of course met with protest from the people before him. Good. Psychological warfare rarely hurt the Legion’s efforts.

- “I told you this was a waste of time Elder Samson.” You spat, moving between the old man and the legionary, aim never leaving his head.

- “Now, now.” He paused, removing the heavy helmet and exposing his face and looking at you directly. “That’s no way to treat a man holding a white flag, woman.”

- You hesitate slightly, taking in his features. This awful man is actually… handsome? He wasn’t young but he wasn’t old, maybe in his late 30s, early 40s. His hair was close cropped but tidy, and had a hawkish face.

- The spell is broken almost as quickly as it takes hold, expression hardening at his words. “Maybe that would be if I thought you were a man at all.” You reply coldly.

- He didn’t dignify that with a response. He returned his attention to the two men that were actually the Legion’s reason for being there. “You have until morning to surrender yourselves and your drug running friends to the Legion.” He paused and gestured at you. “Though this one you can surrender to me personally.”

- This earned a gob of spit hurled at the ground shockingly close to his sandaled feet from you. You told the men you were with to go back inside. You began to back up, refusing to turn your back on the Legionary.

- “A word, profligate?” The question was almost polite coming from his soft voice if he didn’t use that irritating word the Legion used to describe anyone that wasn’t them.

- You lower the barrel of your gun slightly, eying him with suspicion. “What? Can’t you see I’m busy trying to kill you?” You ask, sarcasm dripping from your lips.

- He laughs at your words. At your confidence. “You know those men you defend are nothing more than drug dealers and those that work with them, right? You don’t want to die defending them do you?”

- You seemed to consider his words until he realized it was all still sarcasm. “Hmm. Die here listening to you talk me to death or die taking as many of you with me as I can? Oooh. I’m overwhelmed by my options here.”

- That night is the first of many he touches himself at the thought of you. He’s never felt such a burning need before. Your insolent expression on your beautiful face. He dreamed about wiping it away with his cock. He had to have you.

- The Legate awoke in the early hours of the night to the smell of fire and shouts from his men. He emerged from his tent to find the town and the Legion’s camp ablaze. One of your mercenaries must have snuck in and lit the fires while you and the rest of the town set to scorching the earth of any resources.

- When the fires died down in the morning light, he found you had indeed gotten the town away from his forces while the Legion were distracted. There was nothing left of the town but scraps of metal and charred Brahmin corpses that looked like they’d had their throats slit before everything burned. A shockingly primitive tactic for someone trained by the NCR.

- The Legate was enraged to have lost an opportunity to prove himself to Caesar and most importantly he lost you. He couldn’t even decimate his forces since your mercenary band’s efforts over the last few days had all but done that for him.

- Months passed. Your Legate had put some effort into tracking you and the town you’d rescued down but it really seemed you’d scattered to the winds.

- Really he could have cared less about the town. It was you he wanted. But ultimately he was beholden to Caesar’s will. He couldn’t tell his leader that he was in love with a Profligate that killed his own troops.

- Secretly he still searched for a small mercenary band led by a fierce, beautiful woman.

- Some had heard of you. One of his Legionaries told a story about how you were one of the NCR’s best rifleman until about 5 years ago when you left, how when you targeted a member of the Legion, you did it with extreme prejudice, terrorizing them with your bullets before you finally put them out of their misery.

- Another told of how you’d disguised yourself as a slave and snuck into camp, freeing at least 20 women slaves. It was hard to count since the Legion barely recorded or cared about how many they had in camp at once. And this wasn’t the first time you’d done such a thing. Bold. Bold indeed.

- He never dreamed you would all but stumble into his lap. That was only sort of an exaggeration but the circumstances were less than favorable for both of you.

- The Lacerta Legate had the whole settlement of miners at Quarry Junction killed before they could warn him he was marching his men straight into a deathclaw den. The mutated beasts had butchered the majority of his men before they took shelter in a hole in the rock too small for the large creatures to claw through.

- They had no guns, no explosives and almost no weapons. Supplies were minimal. The Legate truly thought this was where his life would end. He himself had a large cut on the side of his face that was persistently bleeding over his eye, and he had it easy compared to his men.

- Gunshots and booms announced the arrival of another group nearby. The Legion survivors had hope that maybe this group would wipe out the deathclaws or at least distract them. But the sporadic shouts of pain and fear announced that even this group was also getting torn apart. But they were getting closer.

- The remnants of your band of mercenaries tumbled through the opening in the rock to raised knives and broken spears. He didn’t see you until the last of your men came through the cave entrance. You’d made sure all of your men left alive had made it in before you did.

- You scrambled to your feet after tumbling through the small entrance head first, a clawed hand grasping at where you’d been previously outside. The first thing you saw was his bloodied face.

- “You.” You both spat at the same time.

- Everything seemed to happen at once. He tried to grab onto you, but you got him first. Next thing the Legate knew he was being tossed over your hip, landing hard on the rocks with you above him.

- When he looked up, he saw your face looking down at him resolutely, knife in hand at his throat while you knelt on his stomach. You didn’t seemed bothered at all by the Legion spear tips pointed at you from multiple angles. One actually pierced the skin on the side of your neck and you didn’t even flinch. If anything you looked at the spearman with an expression of “do it, I dare you.” Your own men had their pistols drawn and aimed at the Legion members threatening their leader.

- “You think I won’t drag every one of you to hell with me, Legate? Tell your boys to stand down.” You ordered cooly, like your life wasn’t just as much on a knife’s edge as his.

- He’s never wanted you more than he does right now.

- He gives the order and the Legion’s spears are retracted. For a moment you hesitate and the Legate can see you thinking about it. About sinking that knife into his throat anyway. He wouldn’t have blamed you.

- To your credit, you pull the knife away and stand up. You don’t offer him a hand to help him up though. You watch him struggle to his feet to stand taller above you. You must have been a strong woman to have been able to throw him like that.

- “What now, Profligate?” He asked in that soft voice, that word emphasized just as much as the day you met. It almost felt like a term of endearment to you at this point.

- “You wouldn’t happen to be hiding grenades under your skirts would you?” You asked sarcastically, crossing your arms and assessing all the Legion troops around you, earning uncomfortable silence. “Figures.”

- “We don’t rely upon such weaknesses-“ the Legate began in a snide, preaching tone when you interrupted. “And what a load of good that’s doing you now, isn’t it?”

- Unfortunately you had explosives. The man in your squad in charge of that was getting digested by a deathclaw outside the cave right now. Going out to get them would be suicide.

- The Legate was transfixed by you while you debated with the men about what to do. The grenades could be accessed. You could see them from the entrance of the cave. But there were 5 deathclaws right there. It didn’t matter how fast someone was. Those beasts were faster.

- After much deliberation, one man from your squad that was quick and one of the spearmen would venture out for the explosives. It was just a matter of waiting for the deathclaws to get bored and give your men space to move.

- In the mean time, you and your Legate got to know each other in a way neither of you ever expected.

- You offered to clean the wound on his head, pulling out a small medic kit. He protested, not wanting Stimpaks but much to the Legate’s chagrin you assured him you would never waste that on him. In the moment you meant that. Instead you pulled out some alcohol and a needle and thread and sew it shut. You weren’t gentle about it but he got to see you up close in a way he’d only prayed to Mars for the proximity.

- You learned to patch people up like this in the NCR. Much like your leadership abilities and your sniper skills. He asked why you left it since the life of a soldier clearly never left you. This made your face fall and for the first time he saw discomfort on your face.

- You and your twin brother Craig had joined the NCR together as soon as you were old enough. You were both crack shots and an asset. He was sent to deal with the Khans. You were sent off to fight the Legion. You however were more adaptable and managed to climb the ranks faster than your brother. You stayed in long after your brother left the NCR to be with his wife in Novac.

- You loved being a soldier. Loved helping people, loved rescuing slaves from the Legion, loved having a rifle in your hands, loved the camaraderie. Until Craig’s wife disappeared. You never liked her but she was family now. All you had left. He contacted you and told you of what he suspected: Carla had been taken by the Legion. His wife that was 6 months pregnant.

- You would have stayed with the NCR. But when you brought this to the attention of your superiors, they acted like they cared. They didn’t. Nothing was done. And your brother was left a shadow of his former self. Something in you broke. Honor and duty felt hollow. You couldn’t keep this up while half your soul was a shambles. You and half of your incredibly loyal unit left for Novac to find your brother also gone. Disappeared into the Mojave with some courier.

- You were technically a deserter now. That didn’t leave you with many options for work. But you were good at killing Legionaries and you soon found work defending settlements from them. You couldn’t bring back your sister-in-law. But you could kill as many of those bastards as you could before you left this earth for your brother. Until now.

- The Legate was impressed by your story. How you were willing to give up everything you’d worked for. For family. Suddenly the thread sewing his head shut I was cut and the bleeding was stopped. And you were looking at him with an expression of “well? Now it’s your turn.”

- Your Legate knew what it was like to be willing to sacrifice everything for family. The Legion was his family. And Caesar was all but his father. He was taken off the streets of Vegas it turned out. Some mysterious Legionary only known by the title of the Burned Man had taken him off those streets and to the Legion not long before the first battle of the Hoover Dam. He’d never had a family until then.

- He too was raised to be a soldier. He too loved the life of a Legionary. If you weren’t a woman you might have made a fine Legate yourself, him telling you this earning the biggest eye roll. Mars, he loved how expressive your face was.

- He spent his whole life being the soldier the Legion needed. He killed when ordered, enslaved whole settlement’s at Caesar’s orders. He put profligates upon crosses with a smile on his face. The slaves he earned was a near legendary number. But he never used them for their intended purpose. A fact that secretly softens your heart to him.

- He never wanted to bed slaves. Never wanted some soft willed, half starved woman to warm his bed. He never even realized why until he met you. He didn’t want a woman who couldn’t say no to him, that he had to conquer. He wanted a wife. An equal.

- “You know you’ll never find a woman like that if you stay in the Legion right?” You ask him after a moment of silence between you.

- He already had. You both knew it. Even you were finding it incredibly difficult to hate him in the moment.

- A bit of blood seeped from the sewn up cut on his head and you reached out with a rag, dabbing his blood gently. You didn’t even realize how intimate this felt until his hand closed around your own. Your hands touching was final ice breaker between you. He could see it in your eyes while you studied his soft looking lips.

- One of your men broke you from your trance though, one that had been posted near the cave entrance to watch for the deathclaws. The beasts had moved off a ways. Still visible but with luck your men could sneak out and grab the explosives without incident. The Legate reluctantly released your hand.

- The two men selected crept from the cave nervously. What a sight it was, a Legionary and a former NCR soldier walking side by side. Neither ever expected they would have to depend on each other now. Slowly they snuck, avoiding the line of sight of the giant lizards until they made it to the skeleton of your explosives expert, pack left undisturbed until now.

- They grabbed the payload and successfully made their way back towards the cave. Until the Legionary accidentally stepped upon a rib bone, the snap resounding through the rocky hills like a gunshot.

- “RUN!” Every person in the cave screamed, hearing the shouts of the deathclaws as they noticed the two tasty morsels within reach. They high tailed back towards the cave, no longer caring about stealth. They almost made it. The man from your squad was scooped up like he weighed nothing and devoured helplessly.

- The Legionary that had the explosives nearly made it, armor getting caught in the rock edges. You grasped at his arm, desperately pulling the man through.

- You barely felt your Legate’s arms wrapping around you to help pull his subordinate back in. Especially since the monster got ahold of the poor man’s foot. Another soldier took the explosives from the legionary while you and several men tried to save the man’s life.

- Until you felt the most sickening snap and release as the man’s torso disconnected from the arm you had ahold of, blood spraying everywhere while you and everyone else tumbled back.

- Then and only then did you see you had fallen on top of the Lacerta Legate, pretty much into his lap. He looked down on you now with more blood on his face than before you’d cleaned his wound.

- “What now, Profligate?” He asked, panting from the failed effort.

- There was no way this wasn’t a term of endearment for you now.

- The explosives were intact and ready to be used. If you could just kill one of the deathclaws the others would get distracted by an easy meal. At least you hoped.

- The Legate watched you take aim with a grenade launcher, the machine looking heavy in your arms. You were the smallest person here and the only woman, yet here you were the most qualified to handle such equipment.

- “What if this doesn’t work woman?” One of the men of the Legion asked you.

- “We die. I’ll save you a spot in hell.” You said in a deadpan voice. Dying was barely a consequence. What could possibly be worse than this?

- You fired the explosives into a deathclaw further away from the entrance. One after another, you rained hell upon the creature that could do nothing but scream and rage. In the end it took another of its own kind with it.

- The plan actually worked. The deathclaws got an easy meal and what remained of yours and the Legate’s men were able to escape for the most part unscathed.

- You ended up shaking the hands of many of the surviving Legionaries, their respect for you solidified. Especially that of their leader who watched you interact with his men like you were one of them. For a few hours, you were. And the two of you got along.

- When it came time to part ways, he found himself unable to let go of your hand when you two awkwardly shook hands.

- “Glad I didn’t kill you.” You said quickly, a blush plain to see on your cheeks.

- “I’m glad I didn’t make a slave of you or we’d all be dead.” He quipped back just as flustered as you.

- When you pulled away, the rag you’d used to dab his blood was left in his palm. And there was an oddly full feeling in the center. Something was hidden within.