Six couldn't help but shake his head at the sheer irony of it all. The Legion prided itself on discipline and strategy, yet they still insisted on marching everywhere like it was ancient Rome.
Meanwhile, he and his crew had the advantage of modern transportation, meaning they could reach their targets in minutes instead of the grueling day-long treks the Legion was accustomed to.
But what really sealed the deal was Frank Weathers' unexpected foresight—he had his family chipped.
Six almost laughed when Frank showed him the old-world tracking device. The Legion, for all their brutality, had unknowingly walked off with a time bomb strapped to their prisoners. They probably thought they'd stolen away another batch of nameless refugees, not realizing someone could trace their every step.
"Smart move, Frank," Six said, glancing at the signal on his Pip-Boy.
"This makes things way easier."
Boone smirked coldly.
"Guess we won't have to waste time tracking them down."
Rebecca checked her Punisher.
"Good. The sooner we find them, the sooner we wipe out these slavers."
Raul chuckled darkly.
"For once, I'm happy about all this pre-war tech floating around. Makes you wonder how many other families could've avoided a bad fate with something like this."
Roger rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.
"So, what's the plan, brat? We going in quiet, or are we making a statement?"
Six studied the map. The signal was coming from a Legion encampment south of Novac, likely a temporary holding site before they moved their captives deeper into Legion territory. That meant speed was crucial—they had a small window before the prisoners disappeared for good.
"Fast and brutal."
Six decided.
"The Legion doesn't get a chance to react. We go in, wipe them out, grab the Weathers family, and get out before reinforcements show up."
Rebecca smirked.
"My favorite kind of plan."
With that, the crew boarded the War Bus. As the engine roared to life, Six grinned. If the Legion thought they were untouchable, they were about to learn otherwise.
The snow night air was thick with the low rumble of the moving fortress as it tore across the Mojave, its reinforced armor glinting under the moonlight. Inside, the crew was locked in, ready for the bloodbath ahead.
Boone adjusted his scope, his expression unreadable.
"If they have sentries, I'll take them first."
Rebecca loaded a fresh magazine into her Punisher.
"If? Boone, it's the Legion. They always have sentries."
Raul leaned back against the driver's seat, absently spinning a wrench.
"Not that it'll matter. They'll be dead before they know what hit 'em."
Roger cracked his knuckles again with his sword ready, grinning.
"I just hope they last long enough to make it fun."
Six smirked but kept his eyes on the map. The signal from Frank's tracker was still strong, pulsing like a heartbeat, marking the exact location of the Weathers family. The Legion's camp was nestled in a valley—a natural choke point. A terrible place to be ambushed.
Good.
As the Battle Bus skidded to a stop just outside their target's perimeter, Six turned to his crew. "We hit hard, we hit fast. No survivors."
Boone was already out the door, finding his vantage point in the snow covered terrain.
Rebecca, Raul, and Roger followed, moving like predators in the dark.
Six exhaled. The Legion didn't know it yet, but their time had just run out.
The night was silent, save for the crunch of boots against snow, Six gave a sharp nod, signaling his crew to move.
They were prepared for this. This wasn't their first rodeo, and it sure wouldn't be the last. The Legion had chosen their campsite poorly—cliffs on either side, their only exit bottlenecked at a narrow pass.
Boone settled into position, his silhouette blending into the dark snowdrifts, rifle already lined up with the first sentry. With a whisper of suppressed fire, the guard crumpled, his body vanishing into the cold drifts.
Six moved quietly toward the front of the encampment, his eyes scanning the snow for any signs of life. The Weathers family was close now—he could feel it, the tracker in his Pip-Boy buzzing softly in his chest. Every step closer was a reminder of how much the Legion had underestimated them.
As they neared the Legion camp's edge, the flicker of firelight could be seen through the trees, casting long shadows on the snow. The Legion soldiers were lounging around a campfire, unaware that death was creeping up on them.
Six gave a quick hand gesture, and the team moved in.
In a flash, Boone took out the other sentries with clean, efficient shots, his aim true even in the darkness. The Legion didn't know what hit them.
Rebecca, always quick on her feet, darted in next, clearing a path for Roger. Roger, blade in hand, moved with the agility of a snake, his sword cleaved through two Legionnaires with well-placed, blood steaming as it hit the frozen ground. His blade flashed in the night as he cut down anyone who got too close.
Six watched the chaos unfold, his eyes narrowing as he picked out their objective—a group of prisoners huddled near the fire, their faces gaunt and worn. Frank Weathers' family.
"Move in."
Six commanded.
The crew was already on it. Rebecca reached the prisoners first, her Punisher aimed at the Legion guards who had been too slow to react. The prisoners looked up in shock, not understanding who or what was saving them until they saw the look on Rebecca's face—determined, unrelenting.
"Don't worry."
Rebecca said, her voice cold.
"You're safe now."
Roger helped her get the family to their feet, pushing them toward Six, who was already making his way back to the War Bus. Boone covered their retreat, picking off stragglers from the shadows, ensuring that no one was left standing.
Once the family was safely onboard, Six turned to his crew, giving them a nod of approval.
"Wipe the camp out."
Six told Raul.
"We've got what we came for."
The War Bus' turret and artillery cannons swiveled, belching fire as Legionaries scrambled from their tents, but confusion and panic made them easy prey.
Six and the others shot with brutal efficiency, gunfire barking as it cut through the scrambling ranks. The Legion, so used to being the ones who instilled fear, were now the ones begging for mercy.
No mercy would come.
Within minutes, the camp was a graveyard. The only sounds left were the moans of the dying and the crackle of burning tents.
Six saw the Weathers family huddled in one of the War Bus's couches, their faces pale with shock. He shot the lock, kicking the door open.
"You're safe now," he said.
"I'm taking you back to Frank Weathers."
Frank's wife, a gaunt woman with haunted eyes, clutched her children tightly, barely believing their salvation had come so swiftly.
Six turned to Boone.
"Clear the bodies. Make it look like the Legion was never here."
Boone nodded, already setting to work.
As they loaded the rescued family onto the War Bus, Rebecca clapped Six on the shoulder.
"One less Legion camp in the Mojave. Feels good, doesn't it?"
Six looked over the smoldering battlefield.
"Yeah."
He said, watching the flames consume what was left of Caesar's will.
"It does."