He stormed out of the small inn, away from where the couple had started to move off to. As he stomped away he thought of how their hands were entwined with a casual touch the likes of which men of the Legion avoided least they seem weak. He marched more than he walked up a path on the side of one of the cliffs, and glared down at the settlement, imagining the place burning beneath him. The screams of the people as they were crucified or sold off into slavery served too sooth him. Pain was something familiar to Vulpes, the joy of bringing it to the wicked, and this town had become wicked to him in ways few others had. His last soothing image was of the boy that kissed Julia, bespattered with his own blood, hanging from a cross, his organs dangling down from his slit stomach, curling at the base of the cross.

The Legion would come to The Divide now. They would march upon it, subdue the NCR, and take the town for their own. None who lives so happily here would survive. He would see to it as soon as he was at Cottonwood Cove. This place was a wealth of resources, even if his great living desire right now wasn’t to see this place pulled apart, Caesar would thank him for securing the pass and bringing these farms to his collective.