52 Chapter 50: Gods of the Arena

Marcus wasn't sure where exactly he was being lead to, but he guessed it was somewhere underneath the Mill. The sounds of a cheering crowd were getting louder, indicating that he was fast approaching his destination. After being escorted through a steel door, he found himself in a room containing what looked like a weapons locker, and a large sewer pipe that he suspected was the entrance to the arena.

Faydra, the female Raider guarding the entrance, approached the Lone Wanderer and looked him over. "And what are you doing down here, slave? Don't tell me that your pale ass is gonna throw down?"

Marcus nodded his head. "That's right."

Faydra scoffed at him. "The rules are simple, scab. You go into the arena, you fight, you die, and then we all have a good laugh. Just try to make it interesting before you give up the ghost; we haven't had a good blood bath in a while."

Marcus swallowed hard. "Do I get a weapon?"

Faydra pointed to the weapons locker. "You can take any of those weapons in that locker over there."

Marcus made his way over to the locker. It was filled with all kinds of melee weapons, from simple knifes, to sledge hammers, rippers – even a Pitt auto axe. After getting the feel of several of them, he decided on a Chinese Officer's sword, since it was the weapon Clover had trained him with. He turned and approached Faydra. "So who am I fighting?"

"We're gonna throw you in there with the three other scabs who think they got what it takes. You're all gonna fight it out and the last one standing gets to move on. Probably won't be you though."

Marcus felt a knot form in his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do was fight other slaves just trying to get out of this hell.

"Now before the match starts, you and the rest of the scabs will face the Lady of the Pitt, raise your weapons and yell: we who are about to die, salute you. Never turn your back to her! Oh, and one more thing. As soon as the fight begins, barrels of radioactive waste drop down, so if you don't hurry up and kill the others quick, you'll die from radiation poisoning."

It took all of Marcus' discipline not to smirk. "I'll keep that in mind."

The sound of trumpets being blown, followed by a loud roar from the crowd got their attention. Faydra flashed him an evil smile. "It's time, scab. Now get in there."

Marcus took a couple of deep breaths, and he tightened the grip on his sword. "God," he whispered, "please forgive me for what I'm about to do." Then he stepped into the arena.

Kago hid in the shadows, and watched as the Raiders filed into the area above the arena one by one. He patiently waited until the last of them had passed him by, and then the Samurai struck. In one quick motion he snapped the slaver's neck, and managed to drag him into the alley before anyone could see. The warrior donned the Raider's uniform, and after throwing the body into a dumpster, Kago made his way to the viewing area.

Clover had easily made it into the arena's viewing area thanks to her stealth suit, and she was perched up on one of the catwalks, watching as the spectacle unfolded. Her heart was racing as a flood of bad memoires threatened to overwhelm her, and only thoughts of her son back home kept her from falling into despair. Even now, she could still remember the faces of every slave she had killed in the arenas that Eulogy had forced her to fight in. Those faces haunted her dreams, but since her time with Marcus and the birth of their son, those nightmares were less frequent.

The sound of trumpets brought her back to the here and now, and Clover watched as the Raiders parted, and the Lady of the Pitt made her way to the main viewing stand. Down below inside of the arena, which many of the Raiders referred to as "The Hole", she could see Marcus and three other slaves enter from each of its four corners. One of the slaves was armed with a sledge hammer, another carried a machete, and the third was armed with a baseball bat wrapped with barbed wire. Clover held her breath as she studied Marcus' face, and it was clear that his heart was not in the fight that was about to happen. "Come on, suga." She whispered to herself. "Please!"

Sandra raised her arms, and the chaotic arena became as quiet as a tomb. Down below, Marcus and the three slaves had lined up, and were facing the Lady of the Pitt. Suddenly the three slaves raised their melee weapons and shouted, "WE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE, SALUTE YOU!"

Marcus stood still and silent. He may have to fight, he may have to kill, but he was not going to salute this monster.

No one seemed to pay it much mind, because Sandra began to speak. "Fighters of the arena! You stand on sacred ground. For on this spot, our Lord Ashur, having been abandoned and betrayed by the Brotherhood of Steel, rose from the ashes, and defeated the unworthy Raiders who tried to end his life."

A roar rose up from the Raiders. In the Downtown area, the slaves had gathered in the courtyard, and watched Sandra's speech on the jumbo-tron mounted on the side of the Mill. Midea stood among them, and listened to their tormentor's words with disgust. "Let's see you smile now, Sandra." She mumbled. "Now that someone who actually has a chance is in the arena."

Sandra pointed to the fighters. "Today one of you, may prove to be worthy to join the ranks of our lord. Fighters," she placed her fist on her chest and gave a slight bow, "I salute you. Now go….and die with honor!"

The crowd roared again. Marcus turned and faced the other slaves. Each of them looked to be half starved; fear and desperation clearly on their faces. The Lone Wanderer looked upon them with pity. This was by no means a fair fight. He would not have long to dwell on this moral dilemma, for Sandra dropped a black hand kerchief, signaling for the fight to begin. Almost immediately two of the slaves, the ones armed with the sledge hammer and machete, charged at Marcus. No doubt they had decided to band together and eliminate the best fighter in the beginning. Marcus spun to his left, dodging the sledge hammer wielding slave, and as he came back around, sliced his attacker across his back, severing his spine. The second attacker seemed unfazed by his partner's demise and pressed his attack, swinging his machete at the Lone Wanderer. Marcus could see that the attacks were wild and uncoordinated, and he easily parried them away before driving his sword into the slave's chest.

The crowd roared as he withdrew the sword and turned to the final slave. The two opponents stood in the center of the arena, sizing each other up. The slave couldn't have been more then sixteen, and Marcus watched as the frightened young man peed himself from fear. As they stood there staring at each other, the crowd began booing and shouting for them to fight. Marcus glanced upward towards the blood thirsty crowd – and that's when the young slave charged forward. Acting on instinct, the Wanderer held his sword straight out in front, and the slave was impaled on the steel blade. The crowd roared with approval, and Marcus stared into the eyes of the dying slave. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

It took a few more seconds, but the light left the young man's eyes, and Marcus watched as his body fell into the blood and sand.

The Citadel, Grand Hall….

Elder Lyons and the rest of the council were listening to Tristen's daily briefing on the status of the war. "Last night our forces withdrew from Canterbury Commons, and the Pitt army has advanced into the downtown D.C. area."

The statement appeared to suck the air out of the room, but the Elder maintained his composure. "What are we doing to slow their advance?"

"Jericho's Raiders, along with Paladin Sanchez's squad, are doing everything they can to slow the enemy down. They're mining the roads, setting up ambushes, conducting hit and runs on their transport and supply trucks. It will buy us some time, but…. we estimate they will be here in a few days. The Regulators, The Mechanist and AntAgonizer are heading for the Washington Monument." Tristen touched the digital screen, and a close up view of the Monument came into view. "In addition to our forces, the garrison consists of Fawkes and the remaining Super Mutants, and about sixty ex-slaves from the Temple of the Union."

Lyons nodded his head. "What is the status of our forces?"

Rothchild answered that question. "All of our patrols and scouts have reported back to the Citadel. Thanks to the Zetians, more than two-thirds of our soldiers' power armor has been fitted with personnel shields, and nearly all of them have been armed with alien weapons."

The good news was a welcome shot in the arm. "Outstanding, Rothchild."

Paladin Tristen cleared his throat. "There is another development that we must discuss. We have received a message from the Outcasts. He has proposed a temporary truce, and has offered us assistance."

Though the name was not spoken, everyone knew who he was, and the Elder clearly stiffened. "Interesting." He turned to Paladin McGraw. "Do you believe his offer is genuine?"

The former Outcast took a moment to think before nodding his head. "Casdin…. I'm sorry, sir. He maybe a vindictive and sneaky sonofabitch, but even he can see the writing on the wall. And no doubt he knows that Ashur is behind this, and I can't think of anything that would enrage him more than that."

The Elder thanked him for his input, and turned to Tristen. "What are his conditions?"

"All they ask is that they be allowed to keep any tech and weapons they find during this campaign."

'Of course.' Owyn thought. "Very well. Send Casdin my thanks, and request that he and his forces rendezvous with ours at the Washington Monument. Cross, Gunny, assign a small garrison to guard the Citadel, and have the rest of the men prepare to deploy to the monument, along with the Wastelander volunteers and the Vault 101 militia." The Elder stood up and walked over to the screen. "The Mall…. that is where we shall make our stand."

Marcus hastily made his way out of the arena, and practically threw his sword into the corner of the room. He was visibly shaking and trying to catch his breath as he stormed past Faydra, and made his way to a basin filled with water.

"Not bad, scab. Not bad." Faydra said as Marcus tried to wash the blood off his hands and face. "Here, this will help with the rads."

Marcus finished wiping his face and took the radaway, even though he didn't need it.

Faydra looked him up and down. "You're a pretty decent scrapper. You not only killed the other slaves, but you didn't get a scratch on you."

Marcus tried to force the look on the young slave's face out of his mind. "They didn't have a chance." He whispered.

Faydra grinned. "You're a cocky one. But if I were you, I wouldn't get too over confident. Your next fight is probably going to be your last."

Marcus' heart sank. He had to fight again! "Who am I fighting this time?"

"Gruber, the reigning champion of the arena. He won his freedom a couple of years ago, but got a taste for blood and violence, so now he fights scabs for fun. You've got about thirty minutes to rest before the fight, so make your peace with the god of your choice." The Raider walked away, and Marcus pressed his back against the wall and slid down it. He closed his eyes, and thought of Sarah and his son Max. 'I'm going to see them again', he thought to himself. 'I can take it. I can take it.'

Exactly thirty minutes after the last fight, Marcus again entered the arena to the roar of the crowd. Sandra stood up from her throne-like seat, and the spectators quickly became silent. "Citizens and workers of the Pitt! It is my privilege to introduce to you, our reigning champion. For two years he has fought in the arena, and for two years he has never been defeated." She pointed to Marcus. "Tonight, we will see if this slave has the strength to break that winning streak."

The crowd began to boo and taunt him, but the Lone Wanderer showed no emotion as Sandra opened her arms. "Citizens, I present to you, your champion, Gruber!"

The crowd let out a deafening roar, and the gate on the northwest corner of the hole opened up. Marcus watched as the biggest Raider he'd ever seen, adorned in spike-covered metal armor, strolled into the arena. Gruber easily stood at six feet, five inches tall, and his face was hidden behind a chrome colored motorcycle helmet. He proudly carried a large, shinning metal axe which was shaped like a fireman's, but Marcus noticed the six inch steel blade attached to the bottom of its handle. As the champion stopped for a moment to allow his fans to admire him, Marcus took the opportunity to speak to his A.I. companion. "Moira, I want you to scan this guy, and when I activate VATS, zero in on the openings in his armor, you got it?"

"Got it!"

By now Gruber was standing just a few feet away from Marcus, and the Raider stared down at his opponent as if he were a radroach.

The Lone Wanderer looked the behemoth up and down, and seemed to nod in admiration. "Your big." He then flashed him a cocky grin. "Fought bigger."

Gruber responded with a roar and charged. The speed of the giant took Marcus by surprise, and he barely dodged the axe as it came crashing down into the sand. Marcus quickly regained his footing and stood with his sword at the ready. Gruber charged again, swinging his axe as if it were a rag doll. Marcus decided that staying out of the giant's way was the best approach, and only parried away the massive axe when he needed to. Each strike vibrated through his sword and raddled his bones, and Marcus prayed that he'd find an opening soon. Gruber was fast and strong, but he was by no means graceful, and soon the moment had arrived and Marcus activated his VATS. Time slowed down, and Moira had locked into a spot just above Gruber's right elbow. Marcus ducked down, avoiding the massive axe from taking off his head, spun on his heels and sliced the giant across his arm. He felt the satisfying feeling of steel slicing flesh, and Marcus watched as the champion grabbed his now gaping wound and howled in pain. Gasps and shouts of surprise could be heard from the crowd above. Sandra remained in her seat, and calmly took a sip from her wine goblet. Outside in the courtyard, the slaves cheered at the sight of Gruber, who had killed so many of their brethren, bleeding in the center of the arena.

But Gruber's surprise quickly turned to rage, and he let out a roar and swung his axe again. Marcus barley jumped back out of its reach, and he felt the wind from the weapon brush against his stomach. He activated his VATS again and attacked, but instead of hitting flesh, Marcus' sword was stopped cold by the handle of Gruber's axe. In one swift motion, the sword was knocked out of Marcus' hand, leaving him defenseless against the behemoth. Seeing his chance, the champion charged forward and swung his axe, determined to cut Marcus in half. The Lone Wanderer dodged the fatal blow, and stood with fists raised in a defensive stance. The giant lunged forward and raised his axe above his head, determined to bring it down on his opponent. To everyone's shock, Marcus quickly closed the distance and delivered a snap kick to Gruber's chest, stopping the giant dead in his tracks. The move seemed to surprise Gruber more than hurt him, and Marcus jumped up as high as he could, spun around, and connected a round-house kick across the champion's face.

The crowds both inside and outside of the Mill were going wild at Marcus' skills. But as the Lone Wanderer stood toe-to-toe with his opponent, it became clear that his kicks, while impressive, barely fazed the giant. In fact – they only seemed to piss him off.

"Oh shit!" Marcus sighed as he moved in for another strike, but was instead knocked across the arena by Gruber's powerful back hand. The metal studs on the giant's gauntlet split Marcus' forehead open, and he was seeing double as he struggled to get back up. A shadow soon fell on him, and the Lone Wanderer could see Gruber standing over him, his axe raised above his head. Marcus moved to his right, just as the massive weapon came crashing down. Growling in frustration, Gruber raised the axe and attempted another strike, but Marcus moved to the other side and again dodged the fatal blow. Gruber raised the weapon a third time, but instead of bringing the head of the axe down as before, he stabbed downward, and drove the handle's six inch blade into the left side Marcus' lower abdomen.

The Lone Wanderer screamed in agony, but his cries were drowned out by the roar of the crowd above. Gruber pulled the blade free, but instead of finishing off his opponent, the champion turned to the crowd and raised his hands in triumph. As Marcus laid there bleeding, Kago tightened the grip on his sword. Every instinct in his body was telling him to rush down there and help his friend, but Marcus had ordered him not to interfere – and it would be a dishonor to disobey him.

Clover had to cover her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She watched at Marcus, her former lover and father of her only child, rolled over and crawled on his belly; trying to reach his sword. Tears began to form in her eyes, and just like Kago, she too, was frantically trying to decide what to do.

As Gruber drank in the admiration from the crowd, Marcus crawled over to his sword, and desperately grabbed hold of it's handle. As the Pitt champion slowly made his way over to him, The Lone Wanderer used all of his remaining strength, and managed to get up on his knees; his back facing his approaching executioner. He sat there, his right hand barley holding onto the sword, while the other was covering the hole in his abdomen. Gruber was now standing behind him, and took another moment to savior the moment before the kill. Above, shouts of "Kill, kill, kill" filled the arena, while groans and cries of despair filled the slave courtyard.

Clover got down on her knees, her hands gripping the catwalk for dear life as tears ran down her face. She cried out for Marcus, but she could not be heard over the roar of the crowd.

Gruber held the axe with both hands, pulled back, and lunged forward. The weapon came around, and both Kago and Clover's hearts nearly stopped as they could see it was clearly aimed at Marcus' neck.

Moments before the fatal blow, Moira's avatar suddenly appeared on the screen of Marcus' PIPBOY. "NOW!"

Marcus shifted his body weight to the left, and ducked down just as the axe passed over his head. With nothing to stop him, Gruber stumbled forward – and ran right into Marcus' sword. The blade struck under the giant's chest plate, and penetrated his stomach. As their champion howled in pain, another roar rose up from the arena, but this was a mixture of shock and awe. Kago could not contain himself, and he too, let out a roar of triumph for his friend. Up on the catwalk, Clover's heart was pounding in her chest, and she found herself both laughing and crying.

The Lady of the Pitt shot out her seat, and she watched as Marcus' wounds miraculously healed in seconds. The Lone Wanderer could feel the radiation giving him new found strength, and he quickly got back on his feet, withdrew his sword, and as he spun around, cut Gruber's right left off below the knee. The giant fell to the ground; his cries almost as loud as the crowd that a moment ago was celebrating him, but was now revealing in his suffering. Outside, the slaves cheered just as loud at the sight of Marcus now standing over the mortally wounded Gruber.

The Lone Wanderer stood over his enemy, and held the tip of his sword to his throat. The crowd was screaming for him to kill him, but Marcus hesitated. He briefly looked up at the blood thirsty crowd, and Clover's words echoed in his mind. "In the arena, there is only death. If you hesitate, or if you show mercy, they will kill you."

Marcus took one last look at the dying Gruber before driving the sword into his throat. As both crowds went wild at the spectacle, Sandra stared at the Lone Wanderer with a mixture of wonder and curiosity. "Interesting." She commented to her lead body guard, and overseer of the Mill, Krenshaw. The Lady of the Pitt licked her lips as she watched Marcus leave the arena. "Find out all you can about him."

Krenshaw bowed. "Yes, my Lady."

As soon as Marcus had entered the waiting room, Faydra rushed over to him, grabbed his hair, and studied his now healed forehead. "How the hell did you do that!?"

Marcus, not caring at the moment that he was a slave and she a Raider, knocked her hand away. "I got lucky." He growled. As he made his way over to the water basin, Faydra chuckled. "Luck, hu? Well, you're gonna need that luck, scab, because you got one more fight, and then I don't get to call you that anymore."

Marcus sighed as he splashed the water on his face. 'One more!' "Who am I fighting this time?"

The Raider sneered. "This time you get two for the price of one. You'll be going up against the Bear brothers. Word is they're halfway to Trog, and together they're unstoppable."

Marcus paused as alarm bells began going off in his head. The Bear brothers. It couldn't be….

"Kodiak." He whispered. It was Kodiak's brothers; the ones who were left behind during the Purge.

"You've got a whole hour to rest before the final fight, so rest up. Chances are, this is the last time you and I are going to see each other."

Marcus didn't say anything as the Raider, to his surprise, offered him her hand. "Good luck."

The Lone Wanderer hesitated for a moment before half-heartily accepted it. "Thank you." Once Faydra had left, Marcus slumped back down on the floor, and once again held his head in his hands.

"Penny for your thoughts?" His AI companion asked, now that they were alone.

Marcus let out a tired sigh. "I have to kill Gregg's brothers. How the hell am I going to face him after that – assuming of course I survive."

"Well, from what I know about him, Kodiak will understand that you had no choice."

Marcus snorted. "Hey Moira….thanks for your help back there. You're a great friend. I know I don't tell you that enough, but it's true."

Moira smiled from ear to ear. "Ahh, you're so sweet!"

Marcus chuckled; her child-like innocence was a welcome distraction after the day he'd been having – and it wasn't over yet.

Citadel Courtyard….

"KNIGHT DANSE! FRONT AND CENTER!" Paladin Gunny's authoritative voice echoed across the bailey, and the Brotherhood's newest Knight doubled-timed it over to him. After closing the distance, Danse snapped to attention and presented a salute. "Knight Danse, reporting as ordered, sir!"

Gunny returned his salute. "At ease." He turned to the young, red haired woman in power armor standing next to him. "Knight Danse, this is Initiate Ingram, one of our newest recruits. She's only been in training for a couple of weeks, so she's not a soldier yet, but….I'll match her up against a Pitt cocktail waitress any day."

The Initiate seemed to stand up a little straighter after hearing what would be the closest thing to a compliment one could expect from Gunny.

"I'm putting her under your charge, Danse. You're a Knight now, and training and mentoring are now part of your duties."

Danse seemed to stiffen as he studied the young woman – who couldn't have been more then eighteen years old. At twenty he himself was not much older, and it had only been a week since his promotion to Knight.

Ingram swallowed hard and took a step forward. "Knight Danse, I heard about what you did during the siege of GNR. I'm honored to be serving under your command, sir." The Initiate saluted. "I won't let you down, sir!"

Danse returned the salute, though it wasn't as crisp as Ingram's. "Just follow my instructions to the letter, and we'll get along just fine."

"Now that's what I like to hear!" Gunny said. "We've got our orders, so pack your shit and get ready to move out."

"Where are going, sir?" Danse asked.

"The Washington Monument. Word is those maggots from the Pitt broke through Canterbury Commons, and are heading for the Capital Building."

Danse's jaw hardened. "Has there been any word from Sentinel Lyons, or Knight Commander Lincoln?"

Gunny shook his head. "None. It could mean they're maintaining radio silence. Or….that the mission failed." The Paladin's eyes suddenly began to burn with utter hatred. "But make no mistake, when those Pitt maggots show up, we're going to GOUGE OUT THEIR EYEBALLS AND SKULL FUCK THEM! Now get ready to move out!"

Danse and Ingram snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!" They said in unison.

The Pitt….

Marcus walked into the arena, for what would be his third and final time. This was the last battle, the only thing standing between him and his audience with the Lady of the Pitt. But as tough as the last two fights were, Marcus suspected that this one would be the worst. Since he was going up against two fighters, he had decided to add an eighteen inch, spiked shield to his arsenal.

As before, Sandra introduced the two fighters, and they both entered the arena. As Marcus studied his opponents, he could clearly see that they were in the later stages of the Trog Mutation. John Bear was wearing spiked, metal armor, and he was armed with two Deathclaw gauntlets, one for each hand. But what sent a chill up Marcus' spine was Grudd Bear's weapon: a flame thrower!

The signal was given, and the first to attack was John Bear, growling and slashing with is gauntlets. Marcus was able to block and parry the strikes with is sword and shield, and soon he was driving the crazed fighter back.

"ON YOUR LEFT!" Moira shrieked mere seconds before Grudd Bear unleashed a stream of fire towards Marcus. The Lone Wanderer screamed as he felt his left shoulder get burned, but he managed to raise his shield before the flame could burn the rest of him. Just as the fire had died down, Marcus felt John's claws slice across his back, and the Wanderer screamed and slashed wildly in the direction from which the attack had come from. But the gauntlet wielding fighter was not there, and Marcus had barely regained his footing before John lunged forward again.

The pattern repeated itself several time. John would charge Marcus, slashing with his guantlets, forcing him on the defensive. Then, just as it seemed that Marcus was getting the upper hand, Grubb would either attack him from behind or the flank with the flame thrower, giving John an opening to strike. It was an effective tactic, and there was little doubt that if it hadn't been for Marcus' healing factor, the fight would have been over by now.

'I've got to take at least one of these guys out', Marcus frantically thought as he deflected another one of John's attacks. Soon an idea began to form in his mind – and it was completely bat-shit crazy. 'It's gotten ya this far.' John swung his gauntlet at Marcus' head, causing him to quickly duck down, and he managed to grab a handful of sand at his feet. As he came back up, Marcus tossed the sand into John Bear's eyes, blinding the fighter just long enough for Marcus to run passed him – and straight for Grubb Bear. The fighter was clearly surprised by the move, and he hesitated for a moment before raising his flamer and pulled the trigger. His hesitation would prove fatal, because Marcus, thanks to his speed and shield, was barely singed as he closed the distance, and smashed into the fighter. Grubb was pushed against the stone wall of the arena, and Marcus shoved his sword into the fighter's stomach below his armor plating. The Lone Wanderer quickly withdrew his sword, stepped back, and slashed Grubb across his throat.

An animal-like roar got Marcus' attention, and he turned to see John Bear, rage and blood lust in his eyes, charging at the man who had just killed his brother. Marcus dropped his sword and shield, picked up Grubb's torch, and unleased a stream a fire into the charging fighter. John Bear went up like a Roman candle, but the enraged fighter continued his charge, and Marcus barely had time to drop the torch and leap out of the way.

The explosion shook the entire arena. When John Bear's fire engulfed body fell onto his brother's flame thrower, the fuel in the tank ignited, and went off like a bomb. Sandra was once again on her feet, staring in disbelief at the spectacle before her. Both crowds were now completely silent as they stared into the arena. Clover and Kago both held their breaths as they searched desperately for any signs of life.

Someone shouted and pointed down into the arena, and soon a lone figure began to stumble into view. Marcus was covered in scratches, cuts and bruises, and he was walking with a limp. As the crowd silently looked on, the Lone Wanderer made his way into the center of the arena, and stared at the charred remains of Kodiak's brothers. His eyes shot upward toward the still silent crowd; anger and rage dancing in them. "ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!"

The crowd remained silent.

"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!" He gestured to the remains of the Bear brothers. "IS THIS NOT WHY YOU ARE HERE!"

Still no response. Marcus spit on the ground in disgust, and turned his back to the Lady of the Pitt. But as he walked away, instead of getting a bullet in his back, the crowd erupted into cheers and excitement. Both Clover and Kago released the breaths they were holding, and the Samurai warrior added his voice to the cheers.

Marcus stopped, stunned, and turned to face the adorning crowd once again. His eyes met Sandra's, and he could swear that she flashed him a seductive grin.

The Lady of the Pitt turned to one of her body guards. "Have him cleaned up and brought to me….immediatly."

After having his first shower in days (if you considered being hosed down by a group of Raiders a shower), and being given a set of fresh leather armor to wear, Marcus was escorted to the Uptown portion of The Pitt. They were mostly high rise apartment buildings, and while the living conditions were not the best, they were still ten times better than what the slaves had to live in. As he was being led towards Ashur's compound known as Haven, the slavers greeted him as if he were one of their own. Marcus returned their gestures to keep up appearances. Soon Ashur's headquarters and residence came into view, and Marcus stopped for a moment to take in the view. The building reminded him of Tenpenny Tower, though not quite as tall. It was surrounded by a stone wall, and in the center of the plaza was a wooden statue depicting a chained slave on his knees. All of this was further evidence of just how ruthless and sadistic Ashur and his wife truly were.

Marcus took a deep breath as he was lead inside. Several Raiders guarded both the outside and interior of the building, and soon Marcus was climbing a stair case up to the third floor. Two armed Raiders were guarding a set of double doors, which lead into a large room that resembled an office. Inside this room was a desk, and behind that desk was Sandra, the Lady of the Pitt.

"Ah! Our champion has arrived!" She stood up and slowly made her way from behind the desk. Sandra was wearing a low-cut black evening dress….a very low-cut dress. She was still wearing the black leather gloves that went up to her elbows, and she stopped for a moment to pour a drink into two glasses. "Brandy?" She asked as she presented one of the glasses to him.

Marcus hesitated for a moment before taking the glass. Sandra raised hers in a toast. "To freedom."

Marcus resisted the urge to throw the drink in her face, and instead placed it to his lips. He carefully watched as Sandra drank from hers, and that's when he finally swallowed a mouthful.

Sandra laughed at him. "Relax. I'm not going to poison you. That would make our workers rather….emotional."

Marcus stared at her with contempt. "You mean the slaves."

Sandra smirked and waved dismissively. "Tomato, tamato." She took another drink, and her eyes never left his. "You know it's been years since we've seen anyone like you. In fact, I did some checking, and while it's clear you came from the Capital Wasteland, no one can remember ever capturing you."

Alarm bells began to go off in Marcus' head. Did she know who he was? Was his cover blown? He decided to play it cool and shrugged. "Does it matter? I'm here now."

Sandra flashed him a seductive grin. "Yes you are." She placed her now empty glass on the desk. "It just surprises me that none of my people ever remember capturing the great Lone Wanderer."

Marcus visibly tensed, and his eyes quickly began scanning the room.

"Before you do something you'll regret, I will remind you of the two body guards, and auto turrets directly behind you."

Marcus glanced over his shoulder, and true to her word, the auto turrets were trained on him.

"I had my suspicions after your first fight," she stepped closer to him, and was so close that Marcus could smell her perfume. Sandra licked her lips. ",but when I saw your wounds miraculously heal in a room flooded with radiation, I knew exactly who you were. Tell me, do you know Wernher?"

Marcus remained silent.

"The fact that you showed up here days after he'd been captured by the Brotherhood confirms that he's turned traitor." A bitter laugh escaped from her. "I'm not surprised. My husband never completely trusted him. So I can only assume that he's told you about the cure – and that you're here to steal it."

Marcus swallowed as his throat went dry. He took a step closer and braced for the inevitable. "If you know all of this, then why am I still alive?"

Sandra smiled. "Because I hate to see great potential wasted." She slowly walked around him and gently brushed her fingers across his shoulder blades; sending a chill up Marcus' spine. "You are a very unique specimen, Mr. Lincoln." She came around and faced him again. "And it would be a tragedy to waste your potential. No, I think you would do better to serve us."

Marcus couldn't stifle his laugh. "And what makes you think I would join you?"

"Because you and my husband are more alike than you think."

Marcus stared daggers at her. "I am nothing like you and your husband!" He growled.

Sandra responded with a tooth filled grin. "Oh no. You both fight and kill in order to make the world a better place."

"You and your husband enslaved thousands of people!"

"Every great empire was built on the backs of slaves. The Egyptians. The Romans. Great Britain. Hell, even the good ole' U.S of A began as a slave nation."

"There are better ways to rebuild!"

Sandra scoffed at him. "Really? And how would you convince these people to work in the Mill? By handing out pensions and 401K's? These people may labor under harsh conditions, but they have food, shelter, security. How many people in this world can say that?" She decided to change tactics. "Tell me, what has Wernher told you about the cure?"

"Only that you're using it to control these people, and making them think your husband is a god."

The Lady of the Pitt smirked. "Is that all? Typical. Perhaps you should see the cure for yourself. Then maybe you'll have a better understanding about the kind of man you have aligned yourself with."

As he followed Sandra to her lab, Marcus thought this must have been some kind of trick. Why would she bring him to the cure when she knew full well he was here to steal it? He could hear the footsteps of the two guards following close behind, and Sandra unlocked the door and stepped inside. "You wanted the cure." She said as Marcus followed her into the room. "Well, here it is."

Marcus stood frozen in the middle of the room. The child, who looked to be just over a year old, was sound asleep in her crib. The Lone Wanderer's blood ran cold.

"Her name is Marie – our miracle. She's the first child born completely immune to the Trog mutation. Compared to everything Ashur and I have built here, she is our greatest creation."

Marcus remained still and silent as he watched the child sleep.

"Wernher sent you here to kidnap a child. To take her from her parents." She stood face-to-face with him. "Are these the people you want to side with? I on the other hand am offering you a chance to do something great. Bring me Wernher's head, and you will be appointed Ashur's right hand. Together we will defeat the Brotherhood of Steel….and my husband shall declare you warlord of the Capital Wasteland. Think about it! You can finally make the Capital into the kind of place you have always wanted it to be. A place where your people will have true freedom! Freedom from fear, or hunger, or war. You will answer to no one, except for my husband. All you have to do, is swear your allegiance to us." She pressed closer to him, and their bodies were nearly touching. A seductive smile crossed her face, and the Lady of the Pitt spoke softly. "What is your answer, Mr. Lincoln?"