Chapter Text
Sand kicked up from the path as Six made their way towards the location of this mysterious broadcast. While exploration wasn’t their strong suit, especially considering the wastes were particularly unforgiving to folks of their stature and physical capabilities, the beckoning voice of the woman on the other end of the airwaves left the taste of temptation in their mouth.
Soon enough, a couple of people came into view along the road. Six squinted, pushing up their glasses, assessing their garments. Could be NCR, could be heavily armored fiends. With every stride, the scene before them became clearer: a few NCR soldiers standing behind barriers on both sides of the road, slightly obscuring the view of what seemed to be a settlement laying behind it.
Once they had approached the barrier, a tall ranger stopped the courier in their tracks. Between the back-lit fading sun, his wide brimmed hat, and his thick, dark beard, his face remained mostly obscured.
“Hold up there,” he began. “This area is locked down by the NCR military until we can dislodge some Legion snakes from Nelson.”
The courier had heard that name before, in between catchy melodies and a mysterious radio host’s magnetic personality - something about a stalemate between the NCR and the Legion here. “The name’s Monday, Mantis Monday.”
“Oh heck, I’ve heard of you. Supposed to be a regular hero or something, ain’t that right? But maybe you’re a little too… ‘reputable’ to get involved in some dirty work for the Republic.”
Six furrowed their brow. “Are you interested in cracking jokes or getting something done?”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He laughed. “Looks like you’ve got some dirt in you after all. If you had a few dozen doses of Psycho on you, maybe we could pep those weepy troopers into charging down into Nelson and taking back the camp. But since that’s not likely, you could help me take out the Legion’s trooper hostages.”
“Sorry, I don’t think I can help you.”
“That’s a shame. Well, let me know if you change your mind, or those Legion sons of bitches will be holed up in Nelson for weeks.”
“…Alright, then I’ll be going now,” Mantis said, beginning to continue their trek.
“Hey, hold on. Just so you know, if you go down into that camp, one of two things is gonna happen. Either that little head of yours is gonna sail into the Colorado courtesy of a Legion machete or they’re gonna try to make friends with you. And if I find out you’re friends with the Legion, I’ll put a lump of lead through your skull soon as you pop it back up over the ridge. Are we clear?”
“Understood,” the courier said, forcing a smile and repressing the urge to roll their eyes; to assume someone like them was friendly with the Legion was certainly a new level of stupid.
“Much obliged.”
Side stepping the ranger, they continued onward and down the hill, until they were met with an armed mine. Quickly moving to disarm it, Six was stopped again, this time by a Legionnaire.
“Have you come to Nelson seeking your death, Profligate?” he asked with a subtly raised eyebrow, his eyes darting to his right. The courier stifled a giggle; after all, there was nothing funny about the Legion. …Except for all the non-horrifying aspects of the Legion.
“I’m just passing through.”
“The Legion will decide that, Profligate, not you. Will you go before my Decanus for judgment or be killed where you stand?”
Mantis clicked their tongue, raising from their crouched position and placing the mine aside. “Yes, I’ll go before your Decanus.”
“Follow me,” he said. “Make any trouble, and you’ll wind up on a cross - if you’re lucky.”
As he escorted the courier to his decanus, Mantis could feel bile rise in their throat and ice in their veins. With every step, the sensations continued to crescendo. He took them into one of the barracks, where they were met with another Legionnaire, this one donning goggles, a neck gaiter, and a helmet with red and black feathers protruding from the back. Mantis fought the urge to grimace - the ranger was right, there was no chance in Hell that they were going to make it out of this one unscathed.
The Decanus took a step forward, his felt gaze boring into Six. “Ave. Why have you come to Nelson?”
“I was in the area, that’s all.”
“Not all of us have the luxury of coming and going as we please. Here, we stay put. My orders are to hold Nelson. So far the enemy North of here has been too frightened to move against us. Why should it concern you?”
The courier paused, tilted their head, and said, “I’ll… be on my way.”
“You have license to go where you please, at my will. True to Caesar,” the Decanus replied. Six blinked, stood still for a moment, and finally left the barracks before he changed his mind. Somehow, true to his word, none of his men attacked them as they hopped down the hillside, past the three crucified troopers in the settlement’s center, and then up towards the marker on their Pip-Boy.
Climbing the unsteady terrain was no easy feat, but once Mantis had reached the top, a small hatch in a crater of sorts near the bottom of the mountain came into view. Their eyes widened and they slid down the mountain, racing for the hatch. With haste, they slid down the ladder inside, too. Turning around, they were met with a dark bunker, only lit by two dim, sickly yellow-green lights. The walls were decorated with graffiti, a poster that barely clung onto the wall, and blood - more of this blood was found on the floor between the debris that littered it. But directly ahead of our courier was some stairs, and on the landing above it was a strange shape. Clicking on their Pip-Boy light, they saw it was not just oddly piled debris, but a corpse donning a white engineer’s jumpsuit. With a sharp inhale and held breath, Mantis descended further into the bunker.
Cautiously wandering onward, they were met with a door. The beckoning message could be heard through it, softly but surely it was there. Mantis opened it, the screeching metal revealing a radio staring back at them, a left hand path, and a right hand path. The right hand path was caved in, urging Six to take a left, past a strange sigil, revealing a terminal and a door. Mantis approached the terminal - it was locked, but not for long. In turn, the metal door opened with a screech, combined with the sound of a latch opening and closing. Inside was a bedroom of sorts; there were tables with chemistry sets, chairs and papers scattered about, and two strange objects near the bed in the corner. The first was almost like a vending machine, with a glowing blue disc sitting vertically on top - much different from other old world tech Mantis had seen before. The other was a dark brown tapestry with a golden sigil of a sword with wings in front of three gears - the same one from the hallway. As the courier crept further to inspect it, the bunker creaked, echoing almost, with every step. Six reached out to touch the tapestry with a cocked brow and tilted head.
“I don’t know whether or not I should be surprised that you don’t remember who the Brotherhood of Steel is.”
Their neck abruptly snapped towards the voice as they jumped, heart beginning to race - in the doorway stood another Legionnaire, one Mantis couldn’t recall having seen in Nelson; but one that certainly left a mental scar in Nipton. Eyes wide, they asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Would you believe me if I said Mars called me here?”
The courier snorted as they dug around their bag. “Please, I know you Legion boys are big on espionage, just go ahead and say that.”
“Fine,” he said, “would you believe me if I said Mars called me to shadow you across the Mojave?”
“Absolutely not,” they replied, pulling out a colorful deck of cards with turquoise backs. Shuffling, they continued, “Give me one reason I should trust some Legion prettyboy on what is and isn’t fate.”
“I don’t think I have to,” he said, motioning to the courier’s cards.
A click of their tongue and the deck was tossed onto the table. Mantis drew three and flipped them over. The first depicted a man sitting on a throne and holding a sword, the second depicted a group three people under a pointed arch that was engraved thrice with the sigil of a five-pointed star encased in a circle, and the third depicted a woman seated between two pillars with a strange headdress and a crescent moon at her feet. The courier shut their eyes, sighed, and looked back over at the man.
“Fine, whatever.” They packed their cards back into their bag and walked up to Vulpes. “If it’s fate, it’s fate, but I don’t have to be happy about it.”
Six pushed past him, brushing his armor. They turned toward the only option left, the radio, where the sound of the mysterious broadcast got louder and louder between the sounds of the footsteps behind them. The broadcast was coming from just this one radio, the light above acting like a spotlight, as if to highlight it. It was similar in design to the vending machine from the room before. Mantis cautiously approached the radio with Vulpes in tow, turning as if to speak to him. But before they could, the room filled with gas and the pair doubled over, coughing, light fading from each’s view. Each tried to keep an eye on the other, hearts racing and heads reeling - if this was a trap, the other was committed to the bit.
Before long, both were completely unconscious.