New Vegas: Sheason's Story

Chapter 21: Caesar

Have you ever woken up, and not been entirely certain you were awake? The sensation of awareness, and the realization that you should, in fact, be awake, but you're unable to breathe, unable to see, and unable to hear anything.

It's not pleasant.

I woke up to that sensation. But a split second later it was replaced by the feel of cold water completely surrounding my head. I opened my mouth, and the taste of filthy water came rushing in. Water flooded my nostrils and my ears, and my eyes stung when I tried to open them. My first instinct was to struggle, try and find some air... but I couldn't move. I could feel hands gripping both my arms, holding me in place. And then I realized there was a hand on the back of my head, grasping my hair, and forcing me down into the water.

The grip around my hair tightened, and my head was yanked out of the water. I gasped as soon as my head was free, trying to suck in as much air as my lungs could hold.

"That's enough. For now," I heard a calm, authoritative voice say. I tried to shake the water from my vision (which is a lot harder when someone is holding your hair). I know that voice...

"I must say, Courier, I certainly didn't expect to see you again. At least, not so soon."

"Vulpes!" I spat. I coughed again, and my vision finally cleared. Standing in front of me was Vulpes Inculta, except he wasn't wearing the sports equipment and fox head that I'd seen before in Nipton. This time, he was wearing that same kind of burnished metal armor and chestplate I'd seen on the three Legionnaires in the weather station, except he didn't have a helmet or ballistic fist. His hand rested instead on the hilt of the same sword I'd seen him wear on his hip at Nipton.

I was actually somewhat surprised when I finally got a good look at his face - I hadn't expected him to have white hair.

"Did you really think you could just walk into the fortress of the mighty Caesar undetected? His eyes and ears see all." Vulpes smiled widely. His canine teeth seemed oddly sharper than they should've been. Or maybe whatever happened to me in the Securitron vault and being halfway drowned was having an effect on my perception. "And I am his eyes and ears."

I coughed hard again, and saw a splatter of blood fly out of my mouth into the barrel of water below my head. The water was slightly pink from, presumably, all the blood that was leaking out of my face.

"Alright, so you caught me. Congratu-fuckin-lations," I spat out more blood, overshooting the barrel so it landed by his feet. "If you're gonna kill me, get it over with." Vulpes merely laughed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Don't worry your profligate head, Courier. I'm not going to kill you," He paused, then added softly "At least... not yet."

"So what the fuck do you want with me then, if you're not gonna off me?" Instead of replying, he merely pointed down. Guessing what was coming next, I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath. Sure enough, the hand on the back of my head shoved my face back down beneath the water. I couldn't tell how long my head was kept under. It probably wasn't any longer than a minute or two before the hand gripping my hair pulled me back to the surface.

"Don't interrupt again, Courier," He walked towards me slowly as he spoke. "Here's what will happen. We are going to bring you before Caesar. And then he will decide what to do with you." He nodded with his head, and I felt myself be lifted off the ground by the two Legion soldiers on either side of me. I tried to wriggle free, but they had grips like vices. It probably didn't help that I was still feeling sick from the bunker. "Caesar wishes to see the one who has caused him no end of trouble."

I hate being a prisoner.

I know that seems kind of obvious, but this kind of situation has happened far too often for my liking. Of course, the last time I was a prisoner, all I had to contend with were half a dozen incompetent raiders, a couple of dogs, and a big pit. Those morons weren't even smart enough to search me for weapons. Now though, I was surrounded by heavily armed, incredibly disciplined slavers on either side and behind me.

I couldn't even turn my head to get a look behind me, because every time I even slightly moved my head, a hand on the back of my skull forced me to look forward, accompanied by an "Eyes forward, profligate!"

I had to take stock of my situation - and, I'll be honest, everything seemed quite bleak. I couldn't feel Roscoe, That Gun, the stolen machete, any of my spare ammo, or any of the Microfusion Cell grenades anywhere on my person. I couldn't look around me. Both my arms were held by big burly guards. Who knows what was wrong with me from my relatively short time in the Securitron vault, but whatever it was, I couldn't stop bleeding, and I still wanted to vomit. I didn't have my Pip Boy, so even if I could somehow escape and get my guns and ammo, I was limited to VATS-less combat. A thought flashed through my head, wondering if it was a bad thing that I'd gotten so used to that in such a short time.

About the only thing I had going for me at the moment was the fact that I still had the Platinum Chip. I could feel it within the folds of my left glove, hidden away discreetly. The fact that I still had it was either very good, or very bad.

I didn't have much time to dwell on it, either - because my guards had finally guided me up to the highest point of the fort, where a very large red tent sat. The entrance was guarded by two of those same kind of Legion soldiers with the metal breastplates and metal facemasks that I'd seen guarding the Securitron vault. Above the tent flap that acted as a door was a large bronze disk, emblazoned with the image of a man in profile with a prominent hook nose.

My guards shoved me through the scratchy red cloth, and I finally got a good look at Caesar. He was slouching in a throne made out of spears, animal skulls, furs, and red cloth. Around his head was a wreath of gold plated leaves, partially obscuring his mostly bald head. His nose was, if anything, more absurdly prominent in real life than it was on the brass relief outside his tent. His armor was similar to the breastplates of the guards on either side of him, except it was much more elaborate, and a red sash was draped over his shoulders, held at his left shoulder by a golden disk.

Caesar merely glared at me as the two soldiers shoved me further into the tent. When I was standing roughly 10 paces away from the throne, Vulpes came up next to me and smacked me hard behind the knees with what felt like a riding crop. It stung like a motherfucker, and my knees buckled reflexively from the strike. The weight of the two soldiers pressing down on my shoulders forced me down on the ground.

"You will bend the knee before the mighty Caesar, profligate!" I would've spat more blood at him, except I was slightly distracted when he took the riding crop and struck me in the back of the head. Not surprisingly, I saw stars.

"So," Caesar finally spoke. He started drumming his fingers on the arm rest, the noise drawing my gaze - and I realized he was wearing a Displacer Glove, a very rare piece of old world technology. Before I could question it further, he continued speaking. "I finally get to meet the Courier who has accomplished so much in so little time. I've heard a lot about you. I thought you'd be taller."

"And I thought you'd have more hair," I tried to smirk, but the image was probably ruined by the trail of blood I could feel leaking out of the corner of my mouth. Vulpes whacked me upside the head with his stick again.

"You certainly have balls, I'll give you that much. I mean, a man nearly kills you, and your response is to track him across the breadth of the Mojave? You arrive on the strip, and assassinate the head of the Chairmen in his own casino - and get away with it? You waltz into the Lucky 38 like someone left you a key under the doormat? Then something happens to Mr. House's robots - some kind of military upgrade? When you set your mind to something, you get results. I'd like that... if you hadn't set your mind on fucking with me, too."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't think anyone was fucking with you except the NCR. Hell, if your ass wasn't such a big target, stickin' in the air like tha-" Vulpes whacked me in the back of the head again, cutting me off, and I saw stars. It was worth it, though - if this really was it, and I was going to die, I'd be damned if I wasn't going out like a smartass.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, Courier. And it's not like it's been hard to track your progress - you haven't exactly been keeping a low profile. Six of my patrols across the river wiped out. A very reliable slave trader my men can rely on shot in the head on the road to Novac. My camp at Nipton nearly wiped out. And now you try and sneak into my camp, heading straight for the one place with doors that can't be pried open or drilled open or blasted open. I know opening the doors like that don't work, because all that, I tried. Isn't that interesting?"

"Oh, come on. You must be exaggerating. I only know about the one patrol in Henderson." I was whacked upside the head, yet again.

"I don't know what's on the other side of those doors," Caesar continued, ignoring me. "And I don't like not knowing. But if the ground shaking a few minutes was any indication - you do. So you're going to tell me how you got in, and then you're going to do exactly what I tell you."

"I guess the all seeing eyes of the mighty Caesar aren't so fucking all seeing now, are they?" I coughed out a laugh. My fist clenched around the Platinum Chip. Apparently, Caesar still didn't know about it. Or maybe he did, and he was just trying to get me to admit it. "I can't tell you how I got in. I don't know. But if you want to know what's inside, I can tell you that much."

"So what the fuck are you waiting for? Speak." Caesar sneered.

"It's," I coughed again, and felt more blood leak out of both my nose and mouth. "It's your dad, taking it up the ass."

The next thing I knew, I was being pulled off the ground by my hair, and Caesar's left fist cracked me across the jaw. It hurt, sure, but I still laughed at how easily I set him off. He grabbed the hair on the top of my head and forced me to look right at his gigantic nose.

"Do you think this is a game, you fucking little piece of shit? Do you think I won't kill you if you don't cooperate? You are in my house, and when I give you an order, you'll fucking obey me!"

"Alright, fine. You wanna know what's in the bunker? It's an army of robots. What do you want me to say?" Caesar just glared at me even harder. He was starting to turn red. I almost thought steam was going to pour out of his ears in a minute.

"You just don't get it, do you? The weapons I wield are forged from blood, flesh, sinew, bone - mortal stuff. Fragile even," He really started getting angrier, spittle flying in my face. "And yet my Legion obeys me, even unto death. Why? Because they live to serve the greater good, and they know no alternatives. Even if I did believe you - which I don't - House's machines, and all the technology of the old world... what do they propose? The possibility of victory without sacrifice. No blood spilled, just... rivets. That's not an idea I want put in circulation. If mankind is going to survive this moment in history, it needs warriors, not gadgets."

"So why are you wearing a displacer glove, then?" I retorted without missing a beat. His eyes went wide and he stepped back about a foot, but his face was still plastered with a look of pure, unfiltered rage. "You talk of shunning old world technology, but you're carrying a piece of it on your fist. You know you can't win against the NCR with blood alone, since last time you tried to cross the river, you got fucked in the ass and ran away with your tail between your legs." I fully expected Vulpes to whack me with his stick again, but when he didn't, I continued. "That's why the soldiers on this side aren't wearing sports equipment, isn't that right? And why you have that howitzer pointed at the dam. You can't win against the tech from the old world unless you use some of it yourself, and you fucking know it. "

"You know what I hate more than anything else, Caesar?" I spat a bit of blood close to his feet. "Hypocrites. And you're the biggest one of all." Caesar looked about ready to have an aneurysm. He was grinding his teeth, and I swear I saw a blood vessel pop in one of his eyes. Then he closed his mouth into a scowl, and inhaled sharply through his nose.

"Let him go," is all he said to the two Legion soldiers on either side of me. Without question, they let go of my arms and immediately started backing up. Before I could run, there was a crackle of electricity surrounding Caesar's displacer glove. For some reason, all I really remember of the actual point of impact when he hit me in the chest was the sonic boom that made my ears pop.

For the second time in what must have only been ten minutes, my world turned into darkness and pain.

When I regained consciousness, I couldn't really breathe. I mean, theoretically, I could - I didn't wake up with my face underwater like before - but the simple act of breathing sent waves of agony through my entire body, and every part of me just felt wrong. I was lying on my back, staring up at the sky, not knowing who the fuck I was, where I was. or what in the hell I was doing.

I rolled over, and tried to look around. My vision was blurry, and my head was swimming, but I was coherent enough to recognize that I was in the middle of a sandy pit, surrounded by metal walls, and that I was almost certainly screwed. My insides heaved, and I vomited a mixture of blood and bile onto the sand.

It took all my willpower to force myself to keep breathing, despite the misery and torture filling my lungs with air had become. Very slowly, I picked myself up and tried to stand on my own two feet. Every part of me was either shaking or screaming at me to get back down on the ground and just die. It was around that point that I heard a voice come from somewhere above me... a voice that I was coming to despite with an intense hatred.

"Due to your crimes against the Legion," Vulpes shouted, his voice echoing in my ears. "And due to the extremely disrespectful manner in which you spoke to the mighty Caesar, Son of Mars and the Lord and Master of all he sets his eyes upon, despite his extremely generous and forgiving mood as your host, you, Sheason Fisher, also known as The Courier, are hereby declared an enemy of Caesar's Legion. You are therefore to be sentenced to a trial by combat in the Arena. May you die with the honor you never possessed in life, profligate."

Even through the haze and pain, I remember thinking just how fucking ironic it was that Vulpes was saying I had no honor. But I didn't really have time to dwell on that little mental nugget, because a metal gate - at least, I thought it was a metal gate, given the sound of grinding metal it made - was opening in the wall opposite me. I coughed again, and my right knee buckled, sending me to my hands and knees.

And there, sitting in front of me on the sand, was a machete.

I grabbed it without thinking, and unsteadily got back onto my feet. When I looked up to see what had come through the door, I couldn't help but laugh grimly at the strange sense of dj vu that washed over me. If I was only almost certainly screwed before, I was completely and absolutely fucked now. The soldier standing in front of me was nearly a head taller than me, with huge bulging muscles that looked about ready to burst out of his skin, and a metal helmet and face concealing mask that looked like a cross between a Spanish Conquistador helmet and a colander. In one hand he carried a massive two-headed axe, and in the other he carried a sword as big as my torso. The whole getup put me in mind of an outfit I'd seen in an old gladiator movie holotape I'd seen years ago.

I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. And then he chuckled.

"You'd think they would've given me a challenge this time," he said in a voice I was sure only I heard. He looked up, pounded a fist against his chest, and shouted: "Ave, mighty Caesar! We who are about to die, salute you!"

I probably wouldn't get a better chance, so while he was saluting to Caesar, I shoved the machete towards his bare chest. I was hoping my luck might turn, and he'd actually die like he said he would. But my movements were slow and sluggish, and both my brain and body weren't cooperating. The machete was maybe 6 inches away from him when he brought his sword down against my machete. It was hit with such a tremendous force, it was knocked out of my hands and flew through the air, banging against the metal wall.

"... Fuck." I think is all I managed to say. I'm not really sure. What I am sure of was that I was backhanded by a massive fist, and sent sprawling to the ground. I slid against the sand, and only came to a stop when my head banged against the metal wall of the arena. My ears started ringing... either that, or he was laughing. Maybe both.

"This is going to be over too quickly!" I barely heard him say over the ringing in my ears. I tried to force my eyes open, and push myself up off the ground. Everything was sideways. I saw a pair of feet through the fog, and then I saw an axe and a sword drop to the ground on either side of the feet. And lying on the ground right in front of me, between myself and the slowly advancing pair of feet, was the machete.

Surely, trying to do the same thing twice couldn't possibly yield the same result, right?

I summoned up what little strength I had left, and pushed myself off the ground, grabbing the machete as I moved. My vision righted itself, despite still being hazy, and I rushed forwards at the giant slab of Legion meat. I swung the machete, and...

He blocked my arm with his. My swing didn't even manage to get close. Before I knew what was happening, he wrapped his arm around mine, and -

SNAP.

Hang on, my arm isn't supposed to bend that way.

I think I screamed. I know I dropped the machete. He let go of my broken arm, and kicked me in the stomach. It's not like I even stumbled backwards; I just flew and landed flat on my back, looking up at the sky again. Every single nerve in my body was screaming at me to just give up and die already.

But he wasn't finished. The massive mountain of meat and metal was standing above me now, obscuring my view of the moon. He brought down his foot on my hand, and slowly started to apply pressure. I couldn't scream if I wanted to. My lungs were completely empty. Everything was pain. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe.

"Do you yield, profligate?" He growled at me.

"Ffffff..." I tried to squeeze out words. "Ffffff..." was all I could manage.

"What was that?" He growled again. "Speak up!"

And then, for a very brief moment, I was able to find words again.

"Ffffffuuuck... your... mother..." I forced out before the back of my throat began to fill with blood. My vision was clouding over to such an extent that I could barely see the moon as it sped across the sky and suddenly changed directions.

Wait.

Hang on.

What was the moon doing?

Apparently, I wasn't hallucinating, because the Legion soldier who had, just seconds earlier, been crushing the bones in my hand, stepped back and looked towards the sky at the spherical, moon shaped object getting closer.

And then, I heard the most glorious sound in the world: tinny, patriotic marching music belching from an Eyebot's speaker grille.

ED-E zoomed through the air above my head, and I heard the distinctive sound of his laser discharging. There was rumble in the air, that sounded like an explosion, and the mountain of meat moved away from me, presumably to pick up his weapons. I rolled onto my good arm, and did my best to cough as much blood out of my throat as I could, just so I could breathe again.

"What manner of sorcery is this?" I heard him say. I couldn't really see anything. I certainly didn't expect him to get an answer from a very familiar voice.

"This ain't sorcery, simpleton!" Veronica said in a dissonantly cheerful voice. "This is us being big damn heroes!"

I forced myself to look up, but I could still barely see; my right eye had started to swell shut, and I couldn't open it. But I was able to see enough. The Legion gladiator was charging towards Veronica; she was practically dancing around him. Off in the distance I could hear familiar sounds: the discharge of ED-E's laser, the bellow of Cass' shotgun, and the thunderous boom of Boone's sniper rifle. All around I could hear men shouting and boots tromping against the ground.

"You little bitch!" I heard him yell after he swung and missed a second time. "Do you really think a woman can beat me, the mighty Otho?" He swung a third time, and missed yet again; Veronica had rolled underneath him, standing up behind him. Before he realized what was happening, she brought the mallet of her super-sledge up in between his legs.

"Lets both be girls then, how's that!" He howled in pain, but she didn't pay it any mind. She just reared the hydraulic sledgehammer back, and brought it down right in the middle of his back. He collapsed forward on his face, hitting the ground with enough force to shake the ground. Granted, the ground didn't shake nearly as much as a moment later when Veronica brought the massive mallet down a final time onto the back of his head, practically liquidizing it. There really wasn't a skull left, just a few jagged bits of metal and thin red paste that seemed to coat everything.

The whole time she'd been fighting him, I'd been trying (and failing) to get up. My face was still slowly leaking blood, and it was still very, very hard to breathe, but at least I wasn't coughing or vomiting all over myself anymore. Every time I tried to push myself onto my feet, my muscles refused, and I collapsed back into the pool of my own blood.

"Holy shit!" Veronica shouted out, rushing over to me. "Sheason! Shit, c'mon man, tell me you're still alive..." She reached down and grabbed (thankfully) my still functioning arm. I reached out, and did my best to hold onto her; she took the hint and helped me up.

"I had 'im on th' ropes..." I choked out, trying to ignore the trails of blood coming out of my face.

"I know you did. Now, we gotta get out of here! Arcade's waiting for us down at the docks."

We started moving. I tried to keep my eyes open, to keep conscious... but it was a losing battle. I'd already lost who knows how much blood. But despite the astronomical pain I was feeling, despite how weak I was, and despite the fact that I was probably almost dead... now that I was moving and no longer in immediate imminent danger, there was only one thing in my mind.

Melody.

I promised her I'd get her out.

And I keep my promises.

"Wh... we can't... can't leave yet..." I said to Veronica in between ragged breaths.

"Don't talk, Fisher, you're just in shock," she said, tightening her grip on me. "Cass! We gotta go!"

I heard another boom nearby, and looked up just in time to see Cass unloading her shotgun into a nearby Legionnaire. She still had Boone's rifle slung across her back.

"Take THAT y'misogynistic FUCK! Whadda ya think'a women now?"

"CASS!" Veronica shouted, and my ears started ringing again. "We gotta go!" Cass turned around, and all the color drained from her face when she saw me.

"Oh fuck, Sheason!" We all started moving to the exit, Cass covering us with her shotgun. She turned to Veronica and asked "Is he... I mean, he's not dead, is he?"

"I jus' got th' wind knocked outta me," I coughed again. "I'll b'fine... but we... we gotta find..."

"Shut up man, don't talk! Just... we'll get y'outta here, just shut up!" She started looking around frantically. "Where the fuck is Boone?"

I wasn't worried about Boone at that particular moment. What little part of my brain that was still functioning knew he could take care of himself. But Melody was still in the camp somewhere... and I couldn't get them to listen to me. I could barely speak, and my vision was clouding over badly again. Everything was starting to go dark. The indistinct sounds of chaos and gunfire filled my ears. I felt my head start to sag... and then a hand started slapping my face.

"Stay with me, Fisher!" I could barely hear Cass' voice now, even though part of my brain registered that she was close enough that I could feel her breath on my face. Or maybe I was just imagining it. "Don't you dare fuckin' die on me!"

"We... we gotta... Melody, she's..." My throat was starting to close up. It felt like we were going downhill, and it felt like the world was both moving around me at a million miles an hour and like my legs were caught in quicksand. I was forcing myself to think, but everything was just so...

"Boone!" I heard a voice that sounded like it was next to me and miles away at the same time. I think it was Veronica. "Eyes up soldier! We! Are! Leaving!" I heard another voice, much more distant.

"...ave a shot!" was all I could remember him saying.

There was a crack in the air like thunder.

And then everything went black.