falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

For a paranoid dictator, Caesar sure didn't post very many guards at his front gate. The grounds should have been crawling with soldiers. Instead, there were three stationed at the front gate, two more at the second gate further into the compound, and two more at the top of the hill. Hardly a problem. She was almost disappointed.

Mini Legionnaires in their mini uniforms with their mini brainwashed brains ran screaming when she shot their instructor in the kneecap. She didn't even have the energy to shout something smarmy at him as he died. She was too damn mad.

She counted five enslaved women. Each one limped along with a heavily stuffed bag strapped to their backs. They wore rags, a red X painted on each of their chests. They kept their gazes fixed to the ground, even after the chaos erupted---as if they didn't dare look up just in case they looked the wrong person in the eye. She wondered what the punishment for that was and if it was as bad as the one the late Aurelius of Phoenix had hinted she was due to receive.

How long did it take to break someone? What had they done to each of their slaves to make them believe they deserved this lot in life? She had a suspicion, and that suspicion made a red haze settle over her vision. No matter how Caesar spun it, there was no reason for any of this. Why did his men die for him and his fucked up ideals? Had he broken them the same way he broke the women?

And for that matter, why the hell had Courier Six joined him willingly? He could have sided with the NCR. He could have sided with Mr. House. He could have set out to establish an independent New Vegas. He could have given the Mojave the god damn finger and set out for better parts of the world, but he chose to murder and enslave and rape his way into history. And that would not stand.

She almost missed the Enclave. For all their irritating habits, none of them had decided the only thing she was good for was being someone else's slave. She tossed Charon another stimpak as they reached Caesar's tent. Once again, the mongrels chose a better path than their masters. They wagged their tails as she stepped over the bodies of the Praetorian guards, one of them almost begging for pets as she passed.

Minerva missed Dogmeat, but traveling this far with a dog would have been too dangerous. He was better off with Sarah and the Pride until she returned.

“Honey, I'm hooome!” she shouted as she parted the tent flap.

As she expected, she was greeted with a solid punch to the jaw. Guards swarmed around her and Charon; a few she recognized, like the “almighty” Vulpes Inculta. The dogheaded fuck was one of the first to try to put his fist through her face. She'd crossed paths with him before on the outskirts of New Vegas. He'd taken exception when she hadn't immediately dropped to her knees to kiss the ground beneath his feet.

Reconnaissance just wasn't her strong suit.

She smacked Inculta in the face with the butt of her gun. The sickening thud it made when it connected was better than any of Three Dog's old world melodies. Beside her, Charon had taken care of three of the four Praetorian Guards. The fourth was weaving back and forth as though he couldn't decide whether to help Inculta or go for the ghoul. His indecision was ultimately his undoing.

“Enough,” Caesar said suddenly.

Charon ended the guard as Inculta scrambled back, one hand clutching his bloody nose. The courier stood at Caesar's right hand, a sick smile curving across his face. When he looked at Minerva, she felt like she'd been dunked in ice water.

Caesar sat on a bizarre throne, oddly reminiscent of the Roach King she'd met not long after leaving the vault. The way his little legion soldiers clustered around him so protectively certainly reminded her of radroaches. The only thing missing was the weird hat and a mini-gun. Same type of crazy, different packaging.

“Isn't this interesting,” Caesar said, “Even in the face of defeat, the profligates think they can win. You're outnumbered and I have better things to do than entertain such foolishness.”

Even with the four dead guards, Caesar was right. Besides Vulpes and the courier, she recognized the leader of the guards---a man named Lucius. There was also a blonde man in a lab coat, trying very hard to blend into the background. Counting Caesar, that made five. Not the best of odds, but she faced worse just about every day.

Besides, she had serious doubts the blonde man in the lab coat had any intention to help subdue her. The courier was another matter---he didn't say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes. She was going to enjoy wiping the smirk off his face before she killed him.

“I've got a little present for your courier,” she said.

She kept A3 trained on the balding dictator. She didn't miss the way the courier's eyes lit up.

“You murdered my guards and sacrificed your own life just to deliver a package,” Caesar said.

“I murdered your guards because they're baby raping assholes,” she said, “I've no intention of sacrificing anything but your face if you make another move against me.”

“Bold words from a woman,” Caesar said, “You will die for this. The only question is how. Perhaps a crucifixion is in order. What say you Vulpes?”

“Crucifixion is too good for her.”

Blood still gushed from his shattered nose. She could just guess what he thought a suitable punishment for her insolence would be. She could have laughed out loud.

“Agreed. What do you think Lucius? Courier? Shall I have her dismembered and fed to the dogs?”

“Give her to me, Lord Caesar,” the courier said.

“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“It's only fitting for the last of the Brotherhood meet her end by my hands,” he said, “After all, it was my duty to destroy her brethren.”

A slow smile curved across Caesar's face.

“Take her then,” Caesar said, “But be quick about it. I've more important things to attend to today.”

“And the ghoul, my lord?”

“Kill him,” he said, “I am not above mercy.”

Mercy? Yeah, right. She wasn't going to be able to forget the image of Caesar's mercy toward the poor crucified bastards she'd passed on her way to Cottonwood Cove. If he thought Charon was going to endure that shit, he had another thing coming. A shotgun blast rocked Lucius back on his ass.

“I wouldn't try that, smooth skin,” Charon said, his gaze locked with Inculta's.

The head of the frumentarii looked one half a second from throwing caution to the wind and tackling Charon to the ground. He wouldn't be the first or last to attempt something like that.

“Make no mistake, profligate, you will pay for your transgressions against Caesar,” Inculta said.

“Gladly,” Minerva said, “Do you take caps or credit?”

A3 sang as it fired. Inculta had a moment to comprehend his fate before he dissolved. Caesar roared. So much for letting his underlings handle the dirty profligate whore, she mused as she watched him bum-rush her. She sidestepped, missing his displacer gloved fist to the head by a fraction.

The man in the lab coat watched. Did she imagine it or was there a flash of hope in his eyes? Hope at the prospect of Caesar's death? She sidestepped another blow as she reloaded A3.

“Arcade, don't just stand there! Help us.”

The man in the lab coat made a sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“Why would I do a thing like that?” he asked, “I hate you and everything you stand for.”
The courier circled around, holding back as Caesar tried to land a solid punch. He fired a few good shots from some kind of modded out laser rifle, but most of the blasts did little to no damage thanks to her armor. It was a fucking shame none of the other members of the Mojave Brotherhood had survived. They deserved to see him brought to justice.

She dodged another laser blast as Caesar's fist clipped her shoulder. She hissed. The shock wave was incredible. Before she could counter, he staggered, his chest suddenly a bloody mess from Charon's shotgun. He collapsed face down in the puddle of Vulpes as the man in the lab coat, the one Caesar called Arcade, cheered. Green goo spattered everywhere.

The courier scowled.

“You're only making it worse for you and your friend,” the courier said, “If you end this now, if you surrender yourself to me, I can see he doesn't suffer.”

“I think you missed your calling,” she said, “You should start your own comedy club, because that line's fucking hilarious.”

“I know it's difficult for a woman to comprehend,” he said, “But your actions will have serious repercussions for your friend. Accept your place in the world. As a woman, as my slave, I promise you will not pray for death. Not often anyway.”

“Hear that Charon? Pencil dick here won't torture you if I bend over and take it like a good little bitch.”

“Better get to that then, you know how I hate to be tortured.”

The courier barely flinched as she shot the laser rifle out of his hands. If he was anything like the other Legionnaires (and she was pretty sure he was), he was at least trained in basic close quarter combat. The loss of his weapon would mean little to him if he could get in one good hit.

“This is your last chance,” the courier said, “Surrender and I will be merciful.”

She glanced at Charon.

“I don't know about you, but the odds are looking a lot better from where I stand,” she said.

“Much better, Boss.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” the courier said, “As the last of the Brotherhood, you should be able to appreciate that lesson.”

“I've heard just about enough out of you,” she said, “Put your hands on your head and get down on your knees.”

“I don't take orders from whores,” he said.

There was no way in hell she could get him back to D.C. alive, but she was damned if she was going to let him dictate the terms of his death. Now was not the time or place. Death was too good for him.

“Lucky for you I'm not a whore then,” she said, “How about you do what I tell you to do? Charon doesn't like it when someone upsets me. Isn't that right, Charon?”

“Couldn't have said it better myself, Boss.”

“I'm not afraid of your pet zombie. Do you really think you'll get away with this? Do you know how many soldiers call this fort home? The few you killed are just a small percentage. Can the two of you stand against a hundred men? Two hundred? You're just a woman. You can't even face me alone. You rely on a half-man to protect you.”

If Charon was a “half-man” she hated to see what a full one looked like. She didn't have to look at her companion to know he was waiting for an excuse to pump the courier pull of lead. She'd seen what happened to the last idiot who called him a zombie---there hadn't been enough pieces left over to identify the body.

“That “half-man” just killed your god,” she said, “Want to try another argument? I can spare a few seconds.”

“Caesar was a brilliant strategist and a fair ruler, but he was no god.”

“I guess we can agree on one thing then,” she said, charging up A3 as she gestured to his knee caps, “But if you ever want to walk again, I suggest you do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it. My trigger finger gets a little twitchy when dumb fucks like you don't listen to me.”

After a long moment of silence, the courier finally sank to his knees. As he linked his fingers behind his head, his smirk deepened.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

“If she doesn't, I will.”

The man, Arcade, finally stepped out of the shadows. He brandished a proper scalpel as he inched closer. There was a story here. The hate in Arcade's eyes for the courier demanded she ask him about it when this was all over.

“Poor Gannon, still angry I see. And here I thought you were getting used to your new role.”

“You disgust me. You're a monster,” Arcade said, “I can't believe I ever trusted you.”

“A lot of people trusted him,” she said, cutting him off, “Whatever he did to you, it's not your fault.”

“Isn't it?” the courier asked, “With a brain like Gannon's, he should have seen me coming a mile away. His I.Q.'s off the charts, so to speak. Fat lot of good it did him. He still ended up a slave.”

“I don't give a fuck about his I.Q. I just want to know why,” she said, “The Brotherhood were no threat to you.”

“Caesar disagreed.”

“Fuck Caesar. You could have looked the other way,” she said, “You didn't have to side with Caesar. You're a courier. You could have remained neutral.”

“Why? I like what I do. Gannon wasn't wrong when he called me a monster. Killing those fucks in the bunker was the highlight of my life. I'd do it again if I had the chance,” he said, “Just listening to them scream as they burned---makes me hard just thinking about it.”

“You're sick,” she said.

“So I've been told. You think you can kill me? I've already come back from the dead once, and I can do it again and again and again. I'll hunt down every last one of you and there's nothing you can do about it. If you kill me, I'll just come back stronger than ever.”

“Correction. You're out of your god damn mind.”

“Good. You're afraid,” he said.

“I'm disgusted. There's a difference.”

His smile stretched wide. Of course the fucker would be getting off on this exchange.

“Then kill me if you're so offended. It's what I would do, whore.”

“Is that the best you can come up with to insult me? Calling me a whore? Not very original. I expected more of the scourge of the wasteland.”

“Would you prefer slut? Or cunt? Or bitch? I've always been fond of the classics, and you do bear a striking resemblance to a female dog in heat.”

The thought of strangling him was looking more appealing by the second, but it was probably what he wanted. He had no weapon but for his own two hands.

“Please don't listen to him,” Arcade said, hands shaking, “He'll talk circles around you until you forget what you're trying to accomplish. Trust me. Just shoot him. Please. For the good of---well everything.”

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Charon muttered.

“Hey, I'm nothing like that worm.”

“Then I guess President John Henry Eden talked himself into blowing up Raven Rock,” Charon said.

“He had it coming. And he was a computer. It's not the same thing at all.”

A strange sound strangled in Arcade's throat as the courier laughed.

“This is better than anything I'd hoped for,” the courier said, “You're the legendary Lone Wander from Vault 101? The one who brought down the Enclave?”

“I had help.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said, “I think you and Arcade will have a lot to talk about, don't you agree? He told me all about the Enclave. What's the matter Gannon? Cat got your tongue?”

Arcade was as white as his lab coat. Fuck it. She didn't care if he was Enclave. She didn't care if he was John Henry Eden reborn in human form. Unless he set the Brotherhood of Steel up to bomb, it was none of her god damn business.

And Arcade was right about one thing. The courier did know how to talk his way out of shit. She'd almost dropped her guard when he went off on that part about her being legendary. That was a particularly nice touch.

Sadly, she wasn't distracted enough to miss the flick and twist of his wrist as he slid a cleverly concealed switchblade out of his sleeve. She ducked as he hurled it at her throat. The blade sailed past her to embed itself in the tent flap.

The courier tried to scramble back behind one of the tables, but Charon caught him in the leg and Arcade buried the scalpel in his shoulder. The howl of rage and pain was loud enough to wake the dead.

“That went well,” she said.

He writhed on the dirty floor, green liquified Inculta soaking through the fabric of his shirt to mingle with the red of his blood. Even up to the end he thought he could come out on top. Even when he was the last one standing---well maybe not standing in the literal sense, but he was the last one alive at least.

“What's your name, courier?” she asked.

“I'm not telling you shit. Fuck Gannon. Fuck. Did you have to stab me with a god damn scalpel? That shit hurts.”

“That was for Veronica,” Arcade said, his voice breaking, “It doesn't hurt nearly as much as it should.”

The courier tried to sit up, but the missing part of his leg made that impossible. He settled for glaring at her as he pulled the scalpel out of his shoulder. He gripped it between his thumb and forefinger. Minerva wondered if he was considering throwing it at her throat, but decided he was already fucked.

“Courier Six,” she said, “On behalf of Elder Lyons of the Capital Wasteland chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel I sentence you to death for the murder of the Elder McNamara and every man, woman, and child who was in that bunker the night you activated the bunker's self-destruct sequence. Any last words?”

“You can't kill me. I'm fucking immortal. I'll come back and I'll find you. I'll show you what real pain is--”

She shot him once in the chest before he could finish. As the light faded from his eyes for the last time, she fired a second shot. His body dissolved, leaving only the green puddle as proof of his existence. There was no way he was crawling out of this grave. Not this fucking time.

“Finally,” Charon said as he shouldered his shot gun, “Let's get out of here.”

“Right,” Minerva said, her heart finally slowing to a normal pace, “After we free all the slaves.”

“Naturally.”

This is a story I tried to write once, and you did it so friggin' PERFECTLY I LOVE YOU A!A I love your LW and your evil courier and just all the ass-kicking and badassery and YESSS

A!a says you just rocked my morning with this comment. <3 <3 <3 :D Thank you!!!

I love the way your LW and Charon interact.

This was brilliant.

:D Thank you!!!

Fuck yeah, this is awesome. I especially liked Arcade's vengeance towards the end.

Yay! Thank you!!

Holy moley moley moley!! I can't believe you filled this for me!! No one ever fills my prompts!! THIS IS AMAZING! I don't think I can thank you enough!! I love the fact that she's so badass - Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

I can't tell you how relieved I am. ( I had to smack myself in the forehead after reading through the mod updates and realizing I completely misunderstood the guidelines for posting multiple parts.) I'm happy you liked it! Ecstatic, in fact!

Lol. Captcha was 1945-1950. dscele

This rocks my world. I salute you.

:D! Thank you!! I'm glad!

I hadn't realized before this how much I like seeing evil PCs get their due. Great job!

Thank you! :D I'm glad you enjoyed it!

THIS BE AMAZING, ANON!

I love your LW, and Charon, and your courier is a bastardddddddd. <3

I want to give Arcade all of the hugs in the world. D: And Veeeeeeeeeeeerooooooooooooniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiicaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. D:

I love this, anon. You are wonderful. <3

"Time to pay the ferryman, boys,” she said “Charon, would you do the honors?”

I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE!

wow this fic was satisfying!

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Fear the Reaper 5/?

Fear the Reaper 6/?

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