Chapter Text
“What do you mean that women can’t fight in the arena? How do you think we survive out there?“
Six asked Otho with enough curiosity in her eyes to surpass the offence she took, eager to understand more of that parody of the Roman Empire everyone was so terrified about.
Something told her she should have been too, deep down, but maybe losing her memory to a bullet in her brain wasn't so bad if she could be useful to the Mojave as a whole.
But, before that, it was imperative she understood who she was dealing with and, finally devoid of any prejudice, matter-of-factly form an idea around the tribes and different political positions the various factions brought to the desert.
“I’m doing you a favor, refraining you from traumatizing yourself or getting killed by a mere recruit, woman.“
She could feel her hands tingle with the so pleasing desire of punching that stupid smile off of his face, but before she could even open her mouth, another voice added to the exchange.
“Otho, that’s not the best way to accomodate our favorite guest, is it? Choose your words carefully, Caesar puts his faith in this woman, no matter what you may think of others of her kind.“
Six turned to the source of that too familiar voice, ready to give him a piece of her mind with indignation written all over her face. What did "others of her kind" even mean?!
But as Vulpes stood right there, his perfect figure and pose almost fiery and elegant only accentuated by his sharp traits, all the big words and intentions fled her with their tails between their legs. A small consolation was found in the fact that he least never once actually berated her just for being born a woman, instead asking for her aid in spreading the message of the Legion, back at Nipton.
“Vulpes Inculta, right?” She asked carefully, in the attempt of remembering that name without butchering the pronounce.
“You are correct, Courier. May I lead your way to Caesar’s tent? It’s been a while since we met back in Nipton. And I wanted to make sure you don’t pull one of your funny tricks inside the camp.“
“It wouldn’t be so smart of me, would it? If I really had to do such thing I certainly wouldn't after accepting an official invite that alerts everyone in the camp of my presence-. “ She slightly dragged her words towards the end, looking away as if some grand plan nobody could have thought of escaped her lips. Reality was she couldn't help but feel nervous and pretty stupid around Vulpes.
That guy was creepy, from the way he thrived in the suffering he brought to the lands he conquered, to his calm and friendly demeanor so evidently cold and constructed to cover his most twisted and sick desires of serving the Legion in ways nobody could have better executed.
Vulpes had smirked so slightly in reply as he spoke with such a calm and soothing tone, yet the way every single hair on her skin jumped was anything but pleasing or comforted, adding to the situation the fact she was in a camp of slavers formed by athletic and capable men raised and trained as cold, methodical butchers.
“I still cannot believe a small woman like you was capable of such disturbance for the Legion. Hadn't I've seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t rely on my closest informant about it.
However, time is short, we can leave our little conversation for later. Follow me.“ He concluded without leaving space for any more words, not that Six had any of any sort in that moment.
She was pretty naive, could also be somewhat scatterbrained, but was not a complete fool. She understood her boots were stepping in what was basically a minefield ready to blow at any moment, had she set her foot the wrong way.
She just followed next to him as he lead her to Caesar’s tent, all while her eyes wandered around with finality. Every tent, every bonfire, woman, man, locker, bedroll. It could all be used with purpose if she mapped enough in her brain to form a general understanding of the encampment's layout.
Until she was standing in front of the man himself, surrounded by his closest men and guards, and every thought left her mind.
After the talk with Caesar, all she could feel was an impending and unshakeable sense of doom.
Wasn’t a bullet in the head already enough of a sudden and unwanted turn of event? She was fine helping locals as best as her job could assure her to do, catching any occasion in her way to try and gather her life and memories back, but that was something else. The Legion wasn't asking for a mere package delivery or a simple task in a nearby town. It demanded she destroyed her only way out of any future obligations with any of the major factions in the Mojave without even knowing it. One thing she had to give Caesar was his terribly good intuition.
Not that a choice was still made, but time was needed to understand, to decide and carefully review what the best way to act would have been. Who would have been sacrificed, who would have survived, who was allowed to remain.
And the more Six rejected that choice to make, the more the collective seemed to push it upon her with each passing day, for some damn reason.
She found herself yawning after a long staring she gave to the camp, speechless and motionless, head full and heavy as her eyes scanned the area and mostly found disciple and humanistic knowledge etched in the very fabric that composed the Legion as an unit, surely stabler and deeper rooted than the virtues of the NCR, a bunch of spoiled and corrupted idiots who used unknowing and patriotic people as mere meat to grind for the biggest picture only a handful of assholes could envision, direct and enjoy. But if virtue and discipline were the only present qualities of the Legion it wouldn't have been nearly as a chore to make a decision.
Violence ran rampant between the ranks of those who stood under the Bull banner, slaves in pain carrying weights that even a brahmin could feel on their backs after a few hours strolling in the scorching sand of the Mojave, the laments of those who were exhaling their last breaths crucified along the paths around the rusty, iron walls and marking the ones connecting the lower and upper camps, not mentioning the cages, kids in rags or armors depending on their gender, the comments the legionaries constantly made of any female of any age.
Not worth a tidy and disciplined civilization, if the foundation was pure and unfiltered suffering laid upon those who simply chose to live differently.
Her eyelids started to give up, too intoxicated by the exhaustion catching up on her after a whole day of walking to the meeting point where Lucullus lead her to the Fort. Maybe retracing her way out of the camp and back to Novac wouldn't have been the brightest of ideas, she thought.
“So you really are as delicate as you seem, aren’t you?” Condescension dripping from each syllable that reached her ears, waking her from wakeful slumber.
This time too tired to hide the roll of her eyes and the disgust in her guts at hearing those words directed at her from the likes of him and those who resided in the camp, Six didn't even turn to see who spoke them, already aware of his presence.
“Did I forget anything of use for Caesar? “
“No. I simply spoke the truth when said that you are our favorite courier. Just kept an eye out for our guest. Also, I sent one of the women to prepare a tent for you. I will personally guard it for the night, so you can rest comfortably, isn’t that delightful? “
“You can just say that it’s to check I won't pull any of my "Funny Tricks" on you people, you know? “ Bitter mirth on her lips as a small, a dry chuckle left with her words.
“I figured that was a better way to put it.“
“So, what do you want to check? All my weapons have been confiscated already, does a tube of lipstick pose a threat to you people?“ She asked eyeing her own deflated bag laying on the ground at her side, almost empty after the seizure of every ammo and weaponry it carried before.
“That’s a bit rough, don’t you think? I was just curious and eager to know how can this little Courier with short memory span eliminate a team of veteran legionaries if at nine in the evening she is yawning and almost sleeping on the spot she sits on.“
It was hard to deny those claims for Six, who remained silent and hid the lower part of her red face on her arms with a frown, finding purchase on her knees to rest on.
As harsh and unforgiving the Mojave could be, embarrassment never left her person, no matter how little space shyness had on the dry lands she traversed everyday.
“Tell you what, just lead the way and stop speaking nonsense, will you?“ She finally spoke up, doing very little to hide her disdain, a little cherry on the top of a cake made out of her hurtful pride.
With a soft laugh, the man waited for her to get up from the ground and walk beside him, this time not finding her gaze wandering around anymore, evidently worn out from the day and the sunburns littering her exposed skin.
She just wanted to clean herself and go to sleep. “Can I please have a bucket with water too? I need to wash myself. “
“Of course, our guests are to spoil.“ He theatrically replied as he stopped a slave by and asked her the bucket with warm water and a clean cloth. “See? Smooth and unproblematic. No need to be so guarded around here. If you carry no ill intentions that is.“
“I can see.“ Was the only dry reply she gave, adjusting the bag that nearly slipped off of her sore shoulder.
“Excellent. Rest well, Courier. I’ll make sure those voices about trying you out will remain such.“
“Pft, if you say so. Thank you for the hospitality.“ Why was she always so damn formal? She smacked herself mentally, the cringing at her own words showing in the way her sun-slapped nose crinkled immediately after.
“Caesar’s merit, you should thank him, not me. You've been smart enough to not try anything back at Nipton or you wouldn't be here to tell the story.“
"That’s what you say.“
“That’s what I mean.“
“I'd like to turn in for the night, Vulpes. “
“Goodnight, Courier. “