Hoover Dam was a speck on the horizon, standing proud in its construction; newly controlled by the New California Republic. Many of their men were dead or mortally wounded, though they were in a better state than the Legion.

Beaten, broken and defeated, the battle hard-won, and lost at the hands of a simple mistake.

Caesar's Legion had retreated back towards the Grand Canyon, with their wounded staggering along with them. Those who hadn't been able to walk had been killed. With so many of their medical slaves dead or missing in light of that attack so many months ago they couldn't risk carrying the dead weight with them.

The Malpais Legate stood at the brink of the canyon; looking down at the steep edges and rocky crags, leading to the radioactive river that ran through its depths. Right back to where it all started, all those years ago.

He was waiting for the punishment to come, he'd been waiting for their whole retreat from the Hoover Dam to the Grand Canyon, for the righteous wrath of Caesar.

Punishment would come, one way or another. The Legion was built on fear and respect, and despite Joshua's status as one of the key founders of Caesar's Legion, he knew that he'd have to be made an example of.

Edward would likely lash him to a cross for a few days. Painful, no doubt, but he would live. He knew he shouldn't be spared, less people think that all-mighty Ceaser had gone soft in the wake of his daughter's death.

Though, truth be told, he himself had begun to feel disillusioned with their ambition in light of that incident.

"Malpais Legate," the voice was soft and meek. He looked around, finding some scrap of a slave with a wounded face and messy dark hair. A trouble maker, no doubt, she'd probably faced his coming fate many times.

Just like… Well, he didn't want to dwell on her anymore. Shouldn't. God willing, she was somewhere better now.

The slave spoke again, "the mighty Caesar wishes to speak with you."

He didn't say anything, simply nodding; allowing her to lead him to Edward's throne, set out in the open air.

"Joshua Graham," Edward spoke, "my old friend…"

He nodded, "Caesar." He eyed the Legionaries gathered around them, high ranked and skilled. Tired, but no doubt still strong. "What is the occasion that you feel the need to have so many legionaries by your side, old friend?" Did he think so little of him that he would need guards In case he resisted his punishment?

"You and I have travelled a long road together, Malpais Legate. And for your service, I am grateful…" Edward stood, men of the Legion grabbing hold of Joshua's arms. "Perhaps it is my fault for your failure, I couldn't see you were… going soft… in the wake of-"

"You and I both know that's not the case," Joshua bit out.

Edward snarled, "calm yourself, old friend, I am merely trying to find reason behind your failure."

Joshua broke away from the grasp of the Legionaries. "I'll go to my punishment willingly; there's no need for this… show."

Edward looked at him for a long moment before letting out a breath. "For your failure to defeat the NCR, and for losing The Legion control of The Hoover Dam," he started, "you will be executed."

Joshua's eyes went wide; looking at his 'friend'. He gritted his teeth, ready to reach for the pistol at his side. For all he'd done, for all he'd built and worked towards, the civilisation they so desired for the wasteland, it was all going to be snatched away from him for one mistake?

Edward - no - Caesar stared back at him, his eyes burning with disdain. Deep hazel eyes, so familiar and yet so strange.

So damn defiant and determined. He couldn't fight it, shouldn't.

Perhaps it was God's will that he was brought here. Retribution at the hands of the monster he'd help create, his own reflection, his old friend. Punishment for shoving her love away and taking it for granted.

Perhaps it was only right that he met his end here, back at the Grand Canyon; where it all began. Before it all started.

"So be it," Joshua said firmly. "But I walk to my execution by my feet, not dragged like some wastrel."

Caesar nodded and motioned for him to follow the guards. They led him back towards the canyon, men and slaves of the legion gathered about on what had once been a lookout point. Caesar brought him to the edge.

With a motion of his hand, a slave scurried over; that same one that was so weak and pathetic. A new favourite, perhaps? And Caesar had the gall to propose he'd gone soft.

The slave clutched a bottle of pitch that she handed to one of the legionnaires who dumped it over him. It was a smart move, a bullet to the head or a simple chop of the machete wasn't a good statement; he needed to be an example. Throwing into the canyon would be a good spectacle but it'd be unlikely that he'd die. Set him on fire and he'd not be able to crawl back out of that canyon and come after him.

He'd read that fire was a purifying death. Perhaps it was God's gift to him? To purify his stained soul, and perhaps he'd meet her in a better place once they were done.

Whatever Caesar said was lost on his wandering mind.

He'd believed long ago, when he was a younger man, that God had led them to each other; to bring about change in the Wasteland. As he changed, morphed, became more brutal. He kept assuring himself that it was all part of the plan. Standing here, on the brink of his end, he wasn't sure anymore. Couldn't there have been another way? A way where people like her didn't have to wither and die

The fire hit his skin, and his body was engulfed in a moment. He couldn't even feel Caesar's boot as he kicked him into the Grand Canyon; all he could feel was the excruciating pain as the fire ate away at his skin.

If he could go back, would he do things differently? Prevent his fate? Change all of their fates?

Would he, as a young and starry-eyed Canaanite, look upon Edward Sallow and dissuade his fantasies? Would he encourage him to be content with his life, with his wife, and tell them to find peace.

He fell for an agonizing eternity; left with just his thoughts and the fire.


In the end, he survived because the fire inside burned brighter than the fire around him. Even though his body was burned and broken, he was still able to drag himself from the canyon and strive onwards.

His burns were an ever-present reminder of the man he used to be, of the sins he could never escape. All he could do was ask God for forgiveness.

"Joshua Graham," a tribal approached him, looking up at him with big brown eyes. "Chin dee," she pointed in the rough direction the Courier had left, "Cazadores; Zu nahe bit iohgi zum nibaal sinil. Sieht aus wie bit oh ndohalchih."

Joshua nodded. "I will deal with it," he stated.

"Deal with what?" The voice, ragged from smoke yet smooth like water, took him by surprise. He looked behind him, finding The Courier standing there; walkie-talkies in hand.

"Cazadores are roaming close to camp, I will have to look into this and see what I can do about it," he stated. Even with her headwear hiding her face, she visibly cringed; clearly not a fan. "One of the younger Dead Horses must have disturbed a nest…"

The Courier let out a breath. "We'll come with you to see what we can do to help," she suggested. Follows-Chalk perked up at this, grinning at Joshua.

There was a moment's pause before he nodded, "alright."

The trio headed down the eastern Virgin; climbing the steep slope out from the ravine and surveying the land. "Courier," Joshua spoke, "I need to enter a location into your map."

Courier Six visibly flinched before holding out her wrist, allowing him to fidget with the device. Once done, she yanked her arm back; as though she'd been burned by his touch. She checked her wrist before humming in thought. "Let's go…" She headed off in the direction he'd entered.

They started their short journey in silence before Follows-Chalk spoke. "You were telling me about some City of Boulders….?" He pried, clearly trying to get Courier Six to continue her story.

"Well, that's because we started the story about the Repconn Ghouls with 'The Burned Man'," she shot him a look from over her shoulder.

"Ah! Right," Follows-Chalk seemed overjoyed at hearing the continuation of that tale. His love of the tales, and of the 'civilised' lands, struck Joshua as becoming more dangerous by the second.

"Your tales of the civilised lands portray a certain," Joshua thought for a moment, "delusional glamour."

"I don't think getting shot in the head constitutes 'delusional glamour'," Courier Six bit out.

Joshua hummed in agreement before speaking, "you weave your tales like they're fantasies."

"Oh? And you wanna hear a tale that doesn't glamourize the wastelands?" She hissed. "Yeah, I've got a story for you then. Her name was Delores…"


She'd served her life up until that point among a faction known as the Brotherhood of Steel; protectors of old-world tech, particularly the things that should be kept out of the hands of civilians. A trained and respected knight, her reputation meant nothing when her and a group of fellow Knights were ambushed by young Legionnaire recruits eager to make a name for themselves. Too wounded to fight or run away, she was dragged into the Legions encampment with a few of her fellow female knights; thrown down before the medical slaves.

They were given one order, "if you can't fix them; put them out of their misery."

Delores struggled to stay upright, body aching and bleeding, but she persevered for her companions. She couldn't get them out of here if she was dead.

Worn hands landed on her shoulder before a voice spoke, soft and sweet, "can you stand?" Delores looked up into hazel eyes. She had a weather-beaten face and a sad smile, but, the worry on her face seemed genuine.

Delores didn't know it now, neither did she, but this girl would come to adore her and follow her to the ends of the earth. Head of the Medical slaves, following in her mother's footsteps…


"I get your point," Joshua cut her short. "You can stop your story there, Courier…"

Courier six stopped, standing on the edge of a cliff; looking down at a mound of the earth below; Cazadores swarming around it in a frenzy. "That's what I thought," she folded her arms over her chest.

"I want to hear the story," Follows-Chalk stated, "that didn't sound so bad!"

Six and Joshua looked at him. "The thing with stories, is they come to an end," she stated, "and when it comes to the 'civilised lands' it's usually a bloody one."

"What happened to Delores? What happened to her Friend?" Follows-Chalk pried. Six remained silent.

"They died," Joshua stated firmly, "they're in God's graces now."

The Courier let out a breath, "we should make our way down there. We'll clear out the nest and any surrounding Cazadores," she stated, "I've got some molotovs so we'll scorch the nest; guarantee they won't come back. That should ensure the camp's safety."

Joshua drew his pistol, checking the magazine, "we will want to make sure the Queen is dead before we burn the nest…"

As they began to descend the unsteady slope, rocks and debris tumbling down, Six whistled; catching their attention. She pointed towards a body slumped at the mouth of the cave, near perfectly still but barely breathing. "They must think he's dead…" She said quietly.

"He will be if we don't take action," Joshua fired; bullets crashing into the exoskeleton of the nearest Cazadores head.

"Christ," Courier Six hissed, unhitching a bottle from her waist and chucking it to Follows-Chalk. "Take this if you get stung!" The hordes descended upon them quickly, Follows-Chalk rushing in with his club. He dodged a stinger; club colliding with the body of one of the Cazadores, sending it flying back.

With it staggered, Six fired two clean shots into its skull; the bullets of the revolver breaking through. It was partially crippled, but not dead. "This is why I hate these things…" She hissed, firing past Follows-Chalk to a Cazadore rushing him from behind.

The Dead Horse swung his club into its body before knocking it down and crushing it beneath his swing.

"Courier, aim for the wings," Joshua ordered.

Courier Six began to fire as she was told, bullets ripping through the wings of the Cazadores. Bit by bit their flight became unsteady and erratic, but easier to dodge, with some even dropping to the sandy earth; wings too crippled to fly. This made the Cazadores easy prey.

Eventually, the horde was defeated, leaving the trio standing among the corpses of the bugs. "Whoo," Follows-Chalk breathed, "that was pretty risky. Too close for me."

Courier Six didn't pay him any mind, moving to the wounded man slumped by the cave opening. She took care to check his pulse and breathing. "He's fading pretty fast," she muttered, "the poison is killing him slowly. Follows-Chalk, do you still have that bottle I gave you?" She asked, taking off her backpack.

Follows-Chalk approached her, holding out the bottle. She accepted it, uncorking it. She tilted the man's head up and back, "here we go; it'll taste like brahmin dung, but, it'll help…" She soothed. The man likely didn't understand, but he still accepted the drink.

"He must have come out here to hunt when he found the nest…" Joshua thought.

"Some kind of lucky that he's alive," Follows-Chalk remarked.

Six continued her work, pulling a cloth, bottle of water and a stimpack from her backpack; cleaning the wound. "This will hurt a bit…"

Joshua watched her as she tended to him with steady hands, her movements slow and methodical, and yet so familiar.