Fallout:Industrial Baron in Caesar's Legion

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POV of lee oliver

"Who the hell was it this time? The damn Khans or that gang of drugged-up raiders?" I growled, slamming the report down hard on the table. Another convoy loaded with ammunition had exploded just after crossing into the Mojave, and my patience was hanging by a thread.

"We… we don't know yet, General. This just happened. The investigation to determine the cause of the explosion hasn't even begun," stammered the corporal, visibly nervous. He knew no one wanted to be the bearer of bad news, but at this point, I expected efficiency, not excuses.

"Bring me the full report, or you're useless to me, you idiot! Do you think I can do anything with this half-baked nonsense? Get out of my sight before I send you to scrub latrines in the worst damn corner of the Mojave!" I roared, my voice echoing through the tent. The corporal turned pale and spun on his heel, nearly tripping in his haste to leave.

I was left alone, breathing heavily, my mind a chaotic storm.

Damn it… What the hell is going on? First, it's the disappearing convoys, then the missing recruits, the irregularities in the damned inventories… and now our trucks are exploding, and no one has an explanation. This reeks of sabotage, but no one can give me answers.

I slammed my fist down on the table, furious. If we had all the ammunition we needed, we'd have taken back that damn Hoover Dam by now. The Legion… those savages. They have no problem sacrificing hundreds of recruits just to buy time. They aren't soldiers; they're cannon fodder. And as long as our ammunition keeps running short, we won't be able to mount a sustained offensive to break through their defenses.

I moved to the map spread out across the table. The Mojave, filled with lines, marks, and notes, nothing but problems. Boulder City, Camp McCarran, the Strip… and that damn Hoover Dam. If this keeps up, we won't just lose the dam but control of the entire damn desert. And the Shady Sands press will be demanding my head when that happens.

I clenched my teeth, feeling the weight of responsibility. I need answers, and I need them now. I can't sit here waiting for convoys to keep disappearing.

I grabbed the phone on my desk, feeling the weight of every second we were losing, and dialed Colonel Cassandra's number. Her unit was the most reliable asset I had right now. If anyone could shed light on this sabotage, it was her.

"Colonel, you have a new mission. Investigate immediately the sabotage affecting our direct line with Shady Sands. If this continues, we'll never be able to launch an offensive to expel those entrenched Legionaries guarding Hoover Dam," I said, my tone leaving no room for doubt.

"Understood, General. At your orders. I should inform you that one of our Rangers has fallen in action. Apparently, a Legion sniper shot him in the head," Colonel Cassandra replied, firm, though with a touch of solemnity. She knew that every casualty was a tragedy, a reminder of what was at stake.

I pressed my lips together, feeling a mix of anger and resignation. Another martyr in this endless war against barbarity.

"Another martyr in the fight for freedom," I murmured grimly. "Have his body sent to his widow or family immediately. Ensure they receive every compensation they're due."

I hung up without waiting for a response. There was no time for sentimentality, not while the Legion kept gaining ground, killing our best men without mercy. But every life lost in this conflict was a reminder of how fragile our position had become in the Mojave. If something didn't change soon, history would remember me as the general who failed to stop the Legion.

I looked at the map again, seeing all the routes, the strategic points that seemed vulnerable. Where did we go wrong? We couldn't protect everything, but if the Legion kept striking our supply lines, we'd be finished. This wasn't just about men and ammunition; it was a battle for morale. Every destroyed convoy, every dead Ranger, was a blow to our ability to keep the front united.

I took a deep breath. We needed a decisive blow. Something to remind these bastards who's in charge here.

Just then, one of my subordinates entered my office, his face signaling more bad news.

"General… uh… we just received a distress call from Camp Searchlight. The Legion attacked, but we've lost all contact. We have no communication with the forces stationed in that area," the soldier said.

"What did you say?" My tone was sharp as a knife as I turned toward the soldier. "Searchlight? The Legion attacked, and we've lost contact?"

The soldier, pale-faced and voice trembling, barely managed to hold my gaze. "Y-yes, General. We got a distress call a few minutes ago, but then… nothing. All communication was cut. We haven't received any further reports from the camp."

"How in the hell did the Legion cross the Colorado?" I roared, slamming my fist on the table. "We're supposed to have a damn sniper nest watching the area around the clock! If those fools fell asleep at their posts, I'll make them wish they'd never been born. Send a group of Rangers to investigate what happened out there, immediately!"

The soldier stared at me, pale and nervous. He knew there was no room for mistakes at a time like this.

"And I want to hear the message they sent from the camp. I want to know exactly what happened before we lost contact," I added, each word loaded with frustration.

While I waited for the recording, I got up and looked over the map again. If the Legion has found a way to cross the river undetected, it means our perimeter is failing in more than one place. And if that's true, the enemy could already be advancing through territories we thought were secure.

The soldier quickly returned with a recording device. "Here it is, General," he said, his voice barely steady.

I listened to the recording attentively, my jaw clenching tighter with each word.

"Camp Searchlight to Camp McCarran, do you copy? We have three vertibirds in the area. Is there any operation we're unaware of?"

A few seconds of static, then explosions and gunfire erupted in the background, cutting into the transmission.

"Camp McCarran, this is Camp Searchlight. The vertibirds are hostile… they're Legion… Legionaries in power armor…! Oh God… we need reinforce—"

And the message cut off abruptly.

I was so stunned I found myself replaying the recording several times, trying to process what I had just heard. Each explosion, each gunshot, each word felt more surreal as I replayed it over and over.

"Is this the same Legion we've been fighting?" I murmured, disbelief in my voice, my eyes fixed on the device. Legionaries in power armor, vertibirds… This made no sense. For years, we'd faced Caesar's Legion with brutal but primitive tactics. How in hell had they gotten that kind of technology?

Reality hit me like a slap in the face. The Legion was no longer just a group of fanatics in rusty metal armor and swords. They were evolving, adapting. And worse yet, they were using technology we'd never seen in their hands before. Vertibirds and power armor… That's not something a bunch of Arizona tribals could acquire on their own.

I listened to the recording one last time, focusing on every detail. The sound of the vertibirds, the explosions, the panic in the Searchlight officer's voice. This isn't a makeshift raid; it's a planned operation, and we weren't ready.

My thoughts raced in every direction. If the Legion has found a way to obtain that kind of technology, then our assumptions about them are dead wrong. Someone is behind this, someone supplying them with resources. If this keeps up, the Legion could become as advanced as the NCR, or worse, they might surpass us in technology.

I rose slowly, still processing the gravity of the situation. "We're facing something entirely new... and we're damned blind to what's coming at us."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing sense of urgency. If we didn't act fast, we could lose everything—the dam, the Mojave, the damn war.

I dispatched multiple Ranger squads to the Searchlight area, and the reports they brought back stunned everyone at headquarters. Up until that moment, we believed Caesar's Legion was licking their wounds after the beating we handed them at Boulder City. We thought we had some breathing room to reorganize, to plan the definitive offensive. But now we were facing a much darker reality. Thousands of Legionaries in power armor, equipped with sniper rifles, had taken fortified positions in Camp Searchlight, ready to confront anything we threw at them.

We lost several Rangers who were too confident in their understanding of Legion tactics. They perched on the hills as they'd done so many times before, observing and planning their next move, expecting nothing more than warriors with swords and spears. Instead, they found death, cut down by Legion snipers now lurking in the shadows. This wasn't the Legion we knew.

In the short time the Legion had occupied the area, they had fortified Searchlight to a point where we couldn't retake the camp without suffering significant losses. This wasn't a simple skirmish; they'd entrenched themselves, and worst of all, they were well-equipped. Men in power armor were guarding the area. Any attempt to retake that position would cost us dearly, more than we could afford without a political scandal.

As we sat in the briefing room, every high-ranking NCR officer in the Mojave had the same grim expression. We'd seen the images from the embedded reporter, and what they showed was a devastating massacre at Camp Searchlight. Caesar's Legion had executed a calculated attack, smashing through our defenses before we could even react, and the worst part was that someone had manipulated information to lure us into an ambush.

The recording from Emma, the reporter, kept playing on the screen in front of us.

"Good morning, Shady Sands. This is Emma, bringing you trusted information. Anonymous NCR sources inform us that General Oliver will soon launch an assault on the Legion in an attempt to shift the front from the fortified Hoover Dam. As you can see behind me..."

The video showed, at that precise moment, the bombing of the camp's communications area, an attack so precise it immediately wiped out any chance of calling for reinforcements. We'd counted on snipers near the Colorado River to watch for any crossing, but they, like the rest of the camp, had been mercilessly eliminated. The models of power armor the Legionaries wore were unfamiliar to us, and seeing them in action was terrifying. They were units equipped with flamethrowers and grenade launchers, a devastating combination that razed the camp.

"Those suits… we've never seen power armor like that. Where the hell did they get them?" murmured one of the officers as we continued the video. The Legionaries seemed invincible, relentless, as if Caesar himself had deployed a special force kept hidden until now.

But there was something even more disturbing: the false information the reporter had broadcast. Emma, trusting her source, spoke of an offensive we'd never actually planned. Someone fed her that false intel and ensured it was broadcast publicly.

"Now those images are circulating all over the Republic," I muttered, feeling the anger rising within me. "Not only have they beaten us, they've humiliated us in front of our own people."

One of the officers nodded, his expression dark. "If the Legion has this level of intelligence on us, they could be planning even bigger moves. If Caesar is willing to cross the Colorado and attack this way, our defenses in the Mojave are at much greater risk than we anticipated."

Before we could react to what we'd seen in the recording, a Ranger burst into the room, his face twisted with worry.

"General, the Legion is launching raids across the region. We're getting calls for assistance from every camp in the southern area," he reported, almost out of breath.

Damn it. The Legion hadn't just taken Searchlight; they were now attacking our positions everywhere, seeking to weaken us and spread us thin. This was a full-blown offensive, and they knew exactly how to hit us where it hurt the most.

"Dammit…" I muttered, frustration simmering in my tone. "Send reinforcements to all camps! We can't afford to lose more ground to the Legion, or we'll be forced into a retreat. And I don't want anyone heading out half-prepared. Take heavy troops; if the Legion wants to test our line, we'll show them what it's made of."

The officers began moving immediately, some rushing to the radios, others leaving the room to coordinate with their units. Organized chaos took over the room as orders cascaded out. We all knew this was no longer a mere skirmish but a direct attempt by the Legion to seize control of the Mojave.

As the room emptied, I stood staring at the operations map, weighing the consequences of every decision. The Legion was outmaneuvering us in strategy and preparation. They knew how to exploit our lack of foresight, and that was something the president would never forgive. I had underestimated these savages, and now I had to devise a plan to stop what seemed like the beginning of an absolute disaster.

How the hell would I explain this to the president? Not only had we lost a critical camp, but we'd lost control over the entire southern region of the Mojave, and the Legion was advancing like an unstoppable plague. I would have to report that the war in the Mojave was no longer a simple containment but a desperate fight for every inch of land. I'd have to explain that we now faced a technologically armed, strategically ruthless Legion—something we'd never anticipated.

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