"Good afternoon people of the New California Republic!" the radio broadcasted through several speakers in Fortune City, "Walter Green reporting from the NCR Millitary base in Fortune City. At this moment it is 6:00 PM, the 19th of September, 2287, and you all know what time of month that is! Mass prisoner drop-off day! From what I can see in this tower of mine, the welcome crowd is absolutely bustling with people today!

"Let go of me punk!" one of the six dozen arriving inmates shouted, right before his face became very familiar with the electric baton of an NCR Soldier clothed in black. He let out a loud scream of pain as he was lifted from the floor, blood rolling down his chin.

"This one isn't going to last long," another soldier said to the one that hit the inmate, "We should just throw him in the ocean and be done with it."

"Move along, nothing to see here," the guard with the baton shouted to other inmates that were watching the scene. Other guards proceeded to smack a few with their electric batons, ushering the crowd to move down the ramp of the cargo ship.

"Last night, The Bloodhounds and Monarch had quite the battle near the ever-so-mysterious Eye of Fortune City. The Monarch inflicted several casualties on their enemies, while hardly receiving any themselves. The Bloodhounds will more than likely have no trouble refilling their ranks, especially with this large batch of prisoners moving into the city today!"

"ALRIGHT, LINE UP, ALL OF YOU!" another NCR soldier shouted through a mega-phone as several Veteran Ranger's raised assault rifles toward the crowd, "You heard me! If you don't want to get shot, than learn to obey! Once your in the city, you all can do whatever the hell you want to each other!"

The announcer was not lying. Stragglers in the crowd of arriving inmates were either beat hard with the electric batons that the guards wielded, or given bullets to the knees.

"You can't do this to us!" one of the prisoners would cry out, stepping out of the crowd only to be ganged-up on by several guards itching to put their batons to use. His screams were drowned out by the announcer, whom had finally managed to get a fair number of lines made.

"In ten minutes, you all are going to be entering the kind of environment you have always yearned!" the announcer shouted, "A lawless one! With luck, all of you will eventually come out... in body bags." he pointed toward the giant steel doors that had been built into the wall that blocked Fortune City off from the NCR Outpost. "Get a good look at our little base. It's the last speck of any civilization you scumbags are ever going to see for the rest of your miserable lives!"

"I must say, this must be the biggest welcome crowd I have ever seen in the few months I have worked here... than again, I said that last time to, and the time before that!"

"They still haven't taken my chains off," a prisoner whimpered, looking about with fear in his eyes. "I'll get eaten alive out there! Why does everyone else have their chains off, but not me?"

"Because they are giving you special treatment," a sarcastic, smug voice said to the prisoners left. He looked to see a green eyed man with his head bowed, sporting a red vest over a white shirt, and brown pants that matched his boots. "Relax, your not the only one they forgot to take the cuffs off of." The man gave a small smirk to the whimpering prisoner, raising his wrist to reveal silver hand-cuffs wrapped tightly around his wrist. "Seems like someone has it in for you and me."

The prisoner eyed the man for a second, shaking slightly as thunder boomed in the sky. He slowly nodded, turning to look toward the steel gate that they would be exiting in a few moments. On the other side, shouting could be heard... a lot of shouting.

"If you don't stop shaking, you'll be dead the moment we get past that gate," said the green eyed man, the arriving-inmates given the order to slowly move toward the stee lgate.

"Y-yeah, go-good point," responded the shaken prisoner, looking to the man once more. "Got a name?"

The green eyed man gave off a smirk, nodding. "They call me Daniel 'Chip-Toss' Dillinger back where I'm from."

Thunder echoed once more, small amounts of rain beginning to drop from the sky.

"In eight minutes, I get a front-row viewing of the new inmates getting their warm welcome by the locals! This is going to be a good night, I can already tell!"

Terry Jones

Terry looked around at the huge concrete watchtowers and the dozens of NCR personal that surrounded the large group of prisoners, some of them looked scared, some anxious. Although most of them simply just stared with cold emotionless eyes. The other prisoners tried to shove Terry once or twice, trying to get as far away from the guards that surrounded them as they possibly could. They were met with an elbow to the face; dropping them to the ground and causing them to get trampled by other prisoners; all but some young kid, couldn't have been more then seventeen, Terry let him through with nothing more then a grunt, quickly warning the NCR trooper to his right that if he raised his shock baton he'd be getting it back via his mouth; Terry must of still had his intimidating looks, because the trooper quickly scurried off further down the line of soldiers. Terry let out a massive grin, finally unblocking his other senses and listening in to the various moans of the other prisoners.

It was raining, and thunder erupted once again; adding to the extremely tense mood of the crowd as the announcer behind the microphone kept on about a load of crap that didn't mean anything to Terry at that moment. Something sharply tapped on his arm, causing his fists to clench as he swung around quickly.

"Sergeant Jones!? Sergeant Jones, you crazy bastard! What are you doing here?" A baby faced private asked, grinning at him.

"I'm here on vacation, private! My accommodation at the NCRCF got a little tiresome, some bastard told me the weather was nice here... Wait till I get my hands on him!" Terry chuckled, smiling back at the private. "You guys running a tight ship here, aye? Bastards back West can't spare two bloody squads to save some of our own from being tortured but they send a squad of Veteran Rangers to guard some prisoners... Bloody disgrace!" Terry shouted back, bitterly.

"Yeah, this place makes West a crap ton of money, can't blame them for protecting their investment." The private shot back defensively.

"Sure, whatever, just don't get tagged, private. You don't mean [censored] to the enemy or the guys giving your orders." Terry continued, giving the private a meaningful nod before barging off deeper into the crowd; finally listening to the man on the microphone, he said something useful for once.

"In eight minutes, I get a front row viewing of the new inmates getting their warm welcome by the locals! This is going to be a good night, I can already tell."

"Eight minutes, aye?" Terry grinned, suddenly jogging on the spot, clenching his fists rapidly before spreading them out and repeating, quickly rolling his shoulders like a boxing warm up.

"What the [censored] are you doing?" A prisoner to his side asked, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Warming up... You think the locals are waiting at the entrance to offer us tins of pork and beans?" Terry chuckled. "I'd start getting ready if I was you, I always fight better with my blood flowing... It's a tad crowded for press ups though.

"Whatever, crazy man." The prisoner replied as Terry began rolling his head and suddenly stopped still.

"You reckon they have pork and beans? I'm starving."

((The following post is for someone else character whom is at the moment unable to fury himself. ))



Marcus Severus

"They're here," crackles the voice of a Legion recruit.

"Is that so. Go. Gather the others. We must meet by the steel gate quickly," replied a voice in the darkness of the abandoned prison cells. Suddenly, a shadowy figured emerged from one of the beds, and stepped out into the dim light that peaked through the jail cell's steel bars.

The shadowy figure wore a Decanus mask, with red and black beads and feathers decorating it. Five minutes past and a prime rushed into the cells.

"Decanus Severus. I've gathered our men. Shall we go greet the newcomers?"

"Greet? We aren't greeting them Alexis, we are, shall we say, observing them. Perhaps some of the legionaries have forgotten the mighty Caesar. Perhaps not. We must see which remain loyal to his mighty empire and himself. The others, we will ignore."

Severus quietly mumbled out his speech to Alexis, a prime legionary, and exited the abandoned cells. He then stood among his men of six or seven legionaries. Some new recruits, and some experienced. Still, they looked up to Marcus Severus for his bravery, rank, and wisdom.

"Come!" boomed Severus's voice. "We must visit our new brothers! Show respect to the new and loyal legionaries. The other dissolutes, traitors, and criminal scum, none at all!"

Marcus Severus raised his machete in the air. "Onwards to the steel gate!"

The group of legionaries began to jog in the ghetto streets of Fortune City, but there was nothing fortunate about this place. It was trash. A disaster. Maybe even a living hell. Profligate crime and sins revolved around the city's streets and districts, almost never ending. Each day, more inmates ended up dead. Some by gunshot, some butchered, some by their own hands. And each day, the NCR swam in profit of other's misery. It was disgusting. Severus wished he could crucify every single viewer who tuned in for the entertainment of another's misery. Severus wished it on no man. Even a woman or profligate.

Still, he could do nothing except gather the mighty legionaries that remained loyal to Caesar and his empire, and strike at the NCR when the chance came. Months came by and not one chance of sabotage presented itself. Only more murder and crime. And more profit for the NCR.

Marcus sprinted through the alleys and towards the gate. He heard some of his men above him leap from house to house, trying to keep up. Marcus pulled himself over a garbage can, not noticing the rotting body in it, and pulled himself on top of a tin house. He saw the bright lights of the steel gate, and a huge mass of people gathered around it. The voice of a profligate echoed throughout the city as he neared the gate. His men quickly reached him, some panting, and others shrugging it off.

"We are here," Decanus Severus said in a deep voice. The men lined up and awaited Decanus Severus's orders.

"Observe the new legionaries inmates. Nob towards some, to "welcome" them I suppose." Severus looked at Alexis, whose smile was hidden behind his mask. "For the men who nob back, they may still remain loyal to Caesar and his brothers. For those who don't, do not accuse him of a traitor, yet," he hissed.

The men all nob their heads and marched with Decanus Severus to the gate. Countless profligate inmates were gathered around, yelling and acting like savage animals. Savage animals Severus would love to put down. The legionaries walked up against the gate and stared at the arriving inmates. An NCR checkpoint was beyond the new inmates, and large guns were pointed at them, just waiting to let loose when given the green light.

NCR troopers stung and tazed many inmates, either because the inmates tried to resist orders, or just for fun. One NCR soldier spotted a legionnaire being awfully quite in the situation, and walked over to him.

"What's the matter scum? Are you afraid?"

The legionnaire continued to stare straight in front of him and remained quiet.

"Yeah you'll break soon."

Suddenly the man struck the legionnaire with the cattle prod in the back.

"Gawwww!" he cried. The legionnaire hit the dirty ground hard, moaning in pain through his mask. He looked up as he laid on the floor, and his eyes met Severus's eyes. The Decanus stood, arms crossed, at the gate. He didn't give off any emotions or signs, just a blank face.

Suddenly, the guard struck the legionnaire again, and the legionnaire cried out loud again. Decanus Severus became uneasy and cursed at the trooper in his head. His fellow legionaries clung against the fence in rage and called out insults to the trooper. The trooper turned towards Severus's soldiers, and swung his cattle prod toward their way.

Suddenly, the legionnaire recovered from the shock and picked himself up. The trooper heard his slumping and turned around, but was too late. The veteran's thumbs dug into the troopers eyes and blood spurted out. The trooper screamed in pain as the legionnaire clung onto him and kept on striking him in the face. Through all of the chaos going on, the guards noticed the legionnaire and shots rang in the air. The service rifles blasted towards the legionnaire and pierced through his chest. The legionnaire clutched his stomach, and collapsed on his knees. He then took one last look at Decanus Severus, and muttered," It was an honor to serve the Legion, Decanus." Then another shot went through his head and he fell head first into the dirt, dead.

Marcus Severus clung onto the gate, and gritted his teeth through his mask. He whispered to himself," I'm sorry, brother."

The legionaries along side the Decanus became quiet as they watched their fellow brother get trampled over by other inmates or shot at for fun. Decanus Severus quickly pulled himself together and remembered what he must do. He watched as an other legionnaire gave a small nob at the Decanus. The Decanus gave an emotionless nob back.

More and more Legion troops and other profligates marched through the checkpoints and gate. Some of the legionaries gave their necklaces and other gifts to the fallen comrade before being ordered to move along by more NCR troopers.

The Decanus continued to watch the crowd. He saw raiders, junkies, and more profligates pass through. Even huge mutant beasts! Even some women!

"They won't last long" said Alexis as he stared at the crowd.

"Perhaps yes, perhaps no," replied the Decanus as he remained in his emotionless state.

Solomon.

Solomon stood on the ancient roof of the weapons factory, looking out over the cesspit that was fortune city. Behind him the voice of Walter Green crackled from the jury rigged ruin of an old radio. "In eight minutes, I get a front-row viewing of the new inmates getting their warm welcome by the locals! This is going to be a good night, I can already tell!" The noise faded to a background buzz as the burly, super-mutant leader of The New Unity stopped paying as much attention. The announcer was now listing the names of the incoming inmates, Legion men, NCR deserters, a White Glove, all human names and all of no interest to Solomon. To him they were irrelevant, nothing more than meat, the humans were only there to be controlled, subjugated and eventually slaughtered.

He smiled to himself as he pictured the ancient streets running red with human blood. What a glorious day that will be. He though to himself with a smile. It's hard to believe that I used to pity them, used to be one of them. Weak, frail and treacherous like all the rest. But he'd learned that they were beyond saving. Decade after decade of attacks, of meeting other mutants like Meansonofa[censored], and learning how they'd suffered at the hands of the humans had taught him to never again question The Master or his plan. And Fortune city would just be the start, when he was through every human in the wastes would learn to fear and respect the super mutants once more.

“Did you no' hear that then boss?” Hamish's wheezy voice interrupted Solomon's revere, causing him to snap his head around to face the hugely obese engineer.

“Hear what?” The leader of the Unity asked, his voice a deep bass rumble as he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Ach for [censored] sake! What's the point of me fixin' yer radio for you, gettin' inside and fiddlin' aroound wi' all the wires, if you're no' even gonna listen to it?” Hamish's double chins quivered and whiskey scented spittle flew from his green lips as he bellowed. “The wee human on there jus' said that they're shipping in a nightkin wi' the rest o' the newcomers. Ye think we'd best go pick him up?”

Solomon ignored the outburst. It was just one of Hamish's quirks, a throwback to his days as a human. Before his transformation Hamish had lived well into his seventies as a violent, hot tempered, Scottish drunk. Nothing, it seemed, would ever change that. Rather than try, Solomon tolerated the erratic behavior and put the fat, gifted mutant's mind to work arming The New Unity. “A nightkin?” Solomon replied thoughtfully. “Hoskins can deal with this.”

“Understood.” The flat, monotone voice spoke quietly from behind and to the right of Solomon. The mutant whirled round, his eye glaring while the lens of his bionic eye glowed a bright red, after a moment he caught sight of the tall shimmering outline already striding away.

“The announcer said his name's Marcus.” The engineer called after the cloaked nightkin before slowly turning to face the leader once more. “Y'know, he gives me the willies sometimes.” Hamish wheezed, waving his arm towards a slowly closing door. “It's no' right Solomon, bein' invisible all o' the time like that and then creepin' round us. I'm always thinkin' he's watchin' me when I go have a piss.”

Solomon chuckled quietly before answering. “He's very effective.”

“Ach nae doubt.” The fat mutant interrupted. “But he's still a creepy wee bastard if ye ask me. Anyway, what did ye call me up here for?”

“Look down there and tell me what you see Hamish.” Solomon stepped back to the edge of the roof and pointed down into the streets below. The immense frame of his head engineer appeared beside him and Hamish squinted his large eyes as he peered downward. Eventually he spotted what Solomon was pointing at. A crowd of feral ghouls had appeared in the street and were currently swarming towards a lone sentry bot. The robot's mini gun began to fire, mowing down half of the twisted creatures before they reached it, hurling themselves at it's metal body.

“I see a slaughter boss.” Hamish wheezed. “I'm no' sure I follow you're meanin'.”

“You see an opportunity.”

“Ay, an opportunity.” The obese mutant peered down at the scene of carnage once more, squinting in mild confusion. “How's that then? I'll eat a feral in a pinch, but there's nae way that'll solve oour food problems.”

“Not the ghouls Hamish. The robot. If we take it down, could you take the arms and repair them? Make them useable again? More mini guns and some missile launchers would be extremely useful.”

“Oh the guns. Aye I reckon that could work. Jus' a matter of fittin' a trigger. Nae problemo. I'm no' goin' tae be the one tae try takin' it doon though.”

Hoskins.

Hoskins quietly stalked through the streets of Fortune city, holding Charlene close, almost cradling the bumper sword like a child as he moved closer to the NCR's processing building.

Marcus. His name is Marcus and I must save him. Save him like Solomon saved me. He's a nightkin, but I'll see him, they'll make sure I see him. They'll take his true face, his invisible, unseeable face away and thrust him into the city as naked and defenseless as I was. But we'll take care of him, won't we Charlene? We have a new face for him.

As he thought this, Hoskins slipped a hand beneath his huge robe and gently ran his fingers across the second stealth-boy hidden within. The small device would make everything better for his poor lost brother. The tall nightkin could only imagine what the humans had done to Marcus as he was transported to the city. But once the stealth-boy was in the newcomer's hand he could be as invisible as Hoskins himself.

As he approached the NCR building Hoskins passed ever larger knots of humanity. The New Unity were far from the only group within Fortune city with access to a radio. Many of these creatures had also heard the broadcast and were either here out of some misguided sense of loyalty, attempting to pull a member of their own tribe or clan from the fray that would inevitably ensue once they were ushered through the huge steel gate. As if any human was worth saving. Others in the crowd would at least be honest enough to expose their own duplicitous nature, swarming in to loot the weaponry that would be tossed from the wall before the new inmates had a chance to reclaim anything.

In the midst of all this a small group of the savage humans, formerly of the tribe known as Caesar's Legion, had gathered beside the gate, watching with grim resignation as one of their number was beaten and executed beyond the metal bars.

Soon my friend. Thought Hoskins as he spotted the large, muscular, almost purple skinned form of a nightkin through the press of bodies. Soon I'll be able to help you. Unseen by the other inmates, the invisible mutant slowly edged closer as the human soldiers beyond the gate formed up into firing lines, readying themselves to open the gates and begin shoving prisoners inside the city.

Monta Gordon

Monta sat on a rooftop watching the new batch of inmates flow in. He listened to the radio he had found in the trash, it was damaged with dents and blood but sparkled among the garbage and bodies. "In eight minutes, I get a front-row viewing of the new inmates getting their warm welcome by the locals! This is going to be a good night, I can already tell!" " I bet you'll enjoy the viewing you sick [censored]." Monta muttered to his radio.

He looked across the way and witnessed Marcus Serverus gathering Legion recruits. "Ahh Marcus is at it again." He said as he let out a chuckle. There were ghouls fighting a robot but he didn't have any interest in watching, he couldn't keep his eyes off of the inmates. They were being struck by the guards, it made Monta sick, He couldn't stand watching people being beat and not able to fight back. It reminded him of the troubles he had when he first arrived, being one of the first inmates sent to Fortune City gave him the upper hand on things like knowing various locations and knowing the factions even though he wanted no part in the gangs. Monta brushed his hand against the scar on his cheek, the thoughts of anger and hate were brought back, the images ran through his head, picking up the abnormally large rock and beating the guard who had unprovokingly hit him in the back of the head with a baton.

The thoughts and images were gone in a flash as he heard shots ring out near the entrance. A legionarie inmate was shot multiple times after attempting to gouge out the eyes of a guard. Was it the same guard that had beaten him so many times? He wasn't sure but he had hoped that it was. Monta looked down at his bullet necklace, the one thing he was aloud to keep. "An NCR guard, perhaps by the name of Jones?" He thought of the only guard who didn't hit him and let him pass through with the necklace. He thought about Paul and how he could still be out there in the wasteland. Monta climbed down from the roof and made his way near the entrance. He wanted to help these inmates like how Paul helped him. He stood there and waited as the the wave of prisoners entered Fortune City

Marcus

Travelling to the forsaken prison was taking forever. Not only was Marcus uneasy on such a small tin can over water but he was forced to be in chains next to puny, disgusting humans. They argued and whined amongst each other as Marcus stood there in silence, wishing his chains would fall off so he could kill them all. Ignoring their issues, Marcus cast his gaze out into the ocean but this didn’t help his situation. The slow bobbing up and down of the boat was sickening and it had been so long since he had felt the warmth of a stealth boy.

But Marcus was determined not to let his nausea get the best of him, he wanted to instill fear in the humans and he certainly couldn’t achieve this if he was to throw up. Concentrating, Marcus could only feel the urge to activate a stealth boy. It was something only a nightkin could understand. A primal urge to just slip away, disappear from the world and feel the warmth of invisibleness. Since his capture he had not felt this and it was beginning to affect him greatly. He needed to get out, get off this boat and rip something to shreds.

It wasn’t long before they reached the island that the prisoners would spend the rest of their lives on. Albeit a long or short stay. Their captors boomed out the arrival of the ship and the process they were about to go through. All of which was white noise to Marcus, he had reached breaking point and could feel himself about to lose control. He could take down a good number of humans before being put down himself but put down he would be, like an animal. The NCR troopers had taken the chains from around his feet but had kept the ones that held his hands together. They were right to do so.

Just as the metal gates were about to open, a scuffle broke out, blood was spilled. This was it. Marcus roared and snapped his chains in a fit of rage. The NCR troopers were quick; none of them dared to approach the enraged Nightkin but all of their rifles were aimed towards him.

It was raining and there was a slight wind about. Just as Marcus was about to bring his rage down on the closest human, he smelt something. Something familiar, a smell that he hadn’t smelt in quite some time. It was one of his own; a nightkin was about, somewhere close. His gaze cast throughout the crowd that was gathered outside the large gates. There was no-one, not even a super mutant. But Marcus was not wrong; he began to look for what others wouldn’t. Something invisible.

Looking beyond the crowd, into the shadows that the buildings provided he could see it. The rain fell all but one spot, Marcus could see drips form on an object that wasn’t there. A Nightkin. Ignoring those around him, including the gun toting NCR, he pushed through the crowds.

“You,” Marcus shouted as he walked, he hadn’t spoken in so long it was strange to hear the sound of his own voice.

“You, nightkin, how are you…” He could barely put together a sentence.

“Give me… I need a stealth boy.”

The object moved silently toward him.

“Take this,” the Nightkin extended his arm, holding a stealth boy.

“Take it and use it, we must move quickly, you’ve attracted too much attention for formal introductions. Our leader wants to meet you.”

Marcus snatched the stealth boy, instantly activating it. The feeling of relief was almost overwhelming. He would have roared again had the other Nightkin not warned him of attracting too much attention. Instead he breathed deeply, in and out, taking in the moment.

“Yes sorry,” replied Marcus, “Lead the way.”

Mike Core

Mike pulled out his plasma pistol and put it to the prisoners head. "Oh god please don't kill me!" The prisoner that had tried to steal his plasma pistol pleaded.

"There is no mercy for thieves." Mike said and fired his plasma pistol, the shot went into the skull and melted the brain, leaving the prisoner dead and laying on the ground. He searched the body and found a pack of cigarettes. That should buy some energy cells. Thank Maxson for the prisoner's addiction to cigarettes. Mike thought as he stuck his plasma pistol back in his holster and put the pack into a pocket in his armor. I miss my power armor. Mike walked outside and saw new prisoners arriving. Time to get some Energy Cells. Mike walked over to the big pile of weapons and armor. Mike walked over to the pile and grabbed a laser pistol. He opened the ammo compartment. Inside set a fresh-unused energy cell. Mike pulled it out and put it inside his pocket. Someone pushed him, Mike knocked the man down. "[censored] off." Mike said.

"You [censored] off buddy, I wanna get my weapon!" The man said, Mike sighed and saw the man come up again. Maxson, why do people have to be so stupid? Mike grabbed the man's arm and threw him on the ground and brought the arm out. Mike brought his hand back and brought it down, full force on the man's elbow. Breaking the bone and making it pop out of the flesh. Showing a bloody scene. The man screamed. Two other prisoners came and dragged him away. Mike threw the empty laser pistol at the man. Hitting him in the head.

"Idiot." Mike said, he searched the weapon pile and found no weapons, armor, or ammo of interest. Mike suddenly remembered one of the paladins needed a new assault rifle. Mike grabbed one and turned to walk away, not checking it and just wanting to make it out of there. Not after Mike got 5 feet away from the weapon pile, someone put a gun against his head. He could tell it was a 9mm pistol easily brought for the price of a 100 caps fully repaired in the Mojave. Not powerful but efficient. Whoever pushed it up against his head wanted one of two things. To kill him, or to get his attention.

"Drop the Assault Rifle and I won't put a bullet threw your skull." The Prisoner holding the gun said. Mike dropped the Assault Rifle and felt the gun barrel lower. He turned around and saw the prisoner. Picking up the assault rifle. Mike took his knee to the prisoner's face and knocked him down. Mike grabbed the Assault Rifle, took the stock and pounded it against the prisoner's face. Knocking him out. Mike walked away and back towards his bed. Which was in the Diamondhead Hotel.