POV of Todd
But even with all that, I doubted Flagstaff was gonna die out.
There was somethin' about that city, somethin' too damn valuable to just let it rot. The Field of Mars was still runnin' full steam. Only recruits got in, but that place pumped out full legions with an efficiency you just don't see anywhere else. Trainin', indoctrination, deployment. The flow was constant, disciplined, massive.
And beyond the military symbolism or function, there was a logistical fact you couldn't ignore—Flagstaff sat right in the middle of the Legion's railway web. It was a crossroad. A hinge between the east, the heart of Arizona, and the routes headin' south and west. Every single day, tons of raw materials, processed goods, slaves, machines, and weapons ran across those rails. That steady movement alone was keepin' the city alive.
Right now, all the money was headin' to the new capital. That was obvious. But once that phase wrapped up—and it would, 'cause even Gaius has a limit—I wouldn't be surprised if the tide rolled back.
I stayed a few more days in Flagstaff, since I was close to a bunch of administrative hubs and had some loose ends to tie up. I wasn't stickin' around for the sights, but I was fixin' to reinforce my foothold.
I met with a few of the logistics folks from the garrison and the arsenal staff. Straight talk, no games. I suggested we bump up their monthly weapon orders a little. Not 'cause there was any emergency—just good ol' fashioned preparedness. Better to be stocked than beggin' when trouble hits.
Wasn't hard to justify. More recruits, steady expansion east, some shakiness up north. We sealed the deal smooth.
Finally hit the road toward New Rome. Took the direct route right over Hoover Dam in my new rig, that electric motor hummin' quiet while the scenery rolled on by. As I got closer, couldn't help but slow down and take a good long look at that structure.
Even after all this time, it's still a damn marvel. A relic of the old world. One of them builds that stands tall not just 'cause of good engineering, but 'cause the folks runnin' it know exactly what they got. That thing don't just pump out a mountain of power—enough to feed a big chunk of the south—it's also the main water reserve for the whole damn territory.
Security was tight, as expected. Full garrison keepin' watch, checkpoints on both ends. I saw reinforced towers, machine gun nests, motion sensors. But what caught my eye most was a brand-new double rail line built south of the dam. Just as I crossed, a train came barrelin' by—fast, armored, packed. One of those high-priority military supply trains, no doubt.
This garrison wasn't your average outfit either. You could tell just by lookin'. A whole bunch of the soldiers wore those pretorian cloaks. Others, fewer in number but impossible to miss, were sportin' power armor. That ain't exactly common outside the hot zones. They were posted all over both flanks, watchin' the roads and the rails.
The Legion wasn't takin' chances with their golden artery. The stretch between Hoover Dam and the new capital was guarded by their absolute best. Elite troops, nonstop watch, bulletproof logistics. They knew what they were protectin'.
Kept drivin' without issue. I had an audience waitin'. Didn't matter to me whether it was Gaius or Caesar himself—either one would do to settle what brought me here: that long-frozen issue with the Texan Brotherhood of Steel. That conflict's been sittin' idle way too long. Time to fire it up. We've got resources at stake, routes that need openin', and contracts just waitin' on a spark.
But when I got close to New Rome—the new imperial capital—I was speechless.
Skyline full of skyscrapers. Not one or two. Dozens. Wide stretches of fully urbanized land, with industrial zones, administrative towers, high-rise housing, green spaces with auto-irrigation. The whole damn thing buzzed with activity. Trucks movin', workers unloadin', techs runnin' diagnostics, soldiers marchin'. There was life in every damn direction.
I ain't never seen so many people in one place. Not even in the old Caesarea Mexicanorum.
I got lost in that view for a good while.
From one of the raised highways, the steel and concrete spread out like a map of opportunities. You couldn't help but start plannin'. Ideas hit me one after another. Maybe I could pitch a project—get some Legion fundin' to beef up my territory's infrastructure, especially if I showed how it'd hook into this new capital's logistics hub.
But, like always, my mind circled back to business.
Population density, constant movement, expansion headin' west into California… all pointed to one truth: this city's gonna be the launchpad for the next imperial phase. And if that's the case, then it's time to plant roots. Fast. Quiet.
I figured I'd snatch up some buildings. Nothin' flashy to start. Maybe a couple storefronts for fast food joints, tailored for the Legion palate. Local meat, good bread, pure protein. Quick production, fat margins. But what really caught my eye was heavy industry. Medium-sized plants, crankin' out rifle parts or standard-issue ammo—converted from existing warehouses. The land was flat, power already hooked up, logistics integrated.
All I needed was to buy smart, gut the inside, and rebuild it to my specs.
If I managed to lock down ownership of a few facilities before the rest of the buzzards landed, I could tie up decades' worth of profit.
Alright. Down to business.
Gaius. Where the hell's that idiot now?
With any luck, if I kissed a little ass, I could score a discount. A new contract. Priority access to manufacturing licenses. Whatever worked. I'd already learned that with Gaius, it's all about showin' you're useful and stayin' outta his damn way.
So I started lookin' for him. Walked building to building, asked around in the offices, talked to aides, administrators, even a couple of council techs. Nobody knew nothin'. Not a damn soul. The heir to Caesar, second most powerful man in the Empire… and not one soul knew where he was.
And Caesar? Well, he weren't in the city either. Off in Canaan, they said. Overseein' some big ol' purge personally. Left a bunch of centurions sittin' in his chair, signin' stuff in his name, handin' out orders like candy—but none of 'em answerin' questions. All trained to follow, not think.
After near two hours wanderin' under that sun, sweatin' through every hallway in every damn government office, I was about ready to scream.
Then finally, one o' them frumentarii—y'know, those quiet sons'a bitches that're always listenin'—decides to be decent and tell me what he knows. Stops me mid-step like he's been watchin' the whole damn time.
"He's south, in the old Vault-Tec bunker. Engaged in something... significant," the frumentarius said, just barely smilin' before strollin' off like he hadn't just wasted my entire mornin'.
I was fumin'. Not 'cause of the walkin'. Not 'cause of the heat. Just the waste of time. But I didn't say nothin'. Just got in the vehicle and told my driver to move. Fast. We headed straight south, to that goddamn bunker.
Place was locked down tighter than Fort Knox.
Praetorians all over. Patrols. And more boys in power armor than I'd ever seen outside a full-blown parade. This wasn't just important—this was secret.
They let me through to the outer camp, under some temp command post. But the bunker? Hell no. Not without clearance. They told me only four folks had direct access. I wasn't one of 'em.
I tried reasonin', then pleadin'. Told the praetorian to at least inform Gaius that his "friend and loyal governor of Texas" had come a long way with urgent business.
Guy just nodded. Real slow. No promises. Then vanished.
I figured I was in for another long wait. But fifteen minutes later—though it sure felt longer under that sun—he came back. Same dead-eyed bastard.
"You may enter," he said.
Bunker was spotless. Like a damn operating room. Sterile. Silent. Gave me the creeps. Walked straight through, but I'll admit—felt a tickle of nerves. Only four people allowed in here, and now I was one of 'em?
Walked down a narrow corridor and came into this massive chamber. Maybe a lab. Maybe a hangar. Couldn't tell. No noise. No people. Just this soft hum from the machines.
And then I saw it.
Some kinda shape.
Had its back turned to me at first. Then it turned its head. Slow. Real slow.
I froze.
And as that huge bastard started to rise—methodical, heavy—I found myself lookin' damn near at the ceiling.
That armor... it weren't standard. Hell, it weren't even advanced. It was somethin' else. Every plate looked like it could shrug off a tank shell.
My throat tightened. Couldn't even speak.
Then I heard laughin'.
Big, loud, arrogant laughin'—off to my left.
I turned, and there's Gaius, leanin' on a railing, laughin' like a damn teenager. Right beside him stood some gray-haired doc in a lab coat, chucklin' too—though his eyes kept nervously flickin' back to the giant behind me.
Gaius could barely get words out between chuckles.
"Oh Todd... the look on your face. Truly priceless. I thought you might faint. Do you require a change of trousers, old friend?"
I didn't answer right away. Took me a second to calm down. Took a deep breath, dusted off my coat, then glared at him.
"That thing yours? A pet or a bodyguard?" I asked, still watchin' the giant thing standin' there like a damn statue.
Gaius straightened up and wiped a tear from his cheek.
"Bodyguard, technically. We call him Frank. He is the prototype of the Horrigan Program. And rest assured—he only acts on my command."
"You're a damn bastard, you know that?" I muttered, arms crossed. "Guess that's why you been ignorin' my calls."
"Precisely," he said, smooth as ever. "This project has required my undivided attention. Crafting the perfect instrument of death and precision is not a weekend hobby. And now... well, now I am working on something even more consequential."
The way he smiled right then… I didn't like it.
"Todd, my friend... I've developed a modified strain of the FEV. It incorporates sequences derived from long-forgotten Vault-Tec experiments. Once introduced into the body, your genome would transform entirely. Greater strength. Unbreakable stamina. A superior vessel."
He pulled out a syringe. Held it like it was a damn crown jewel.
"There is, of course, a minor side effect. The donor genome was... Caucasian. Blue-eyed, blond. So the physical change would be... noticeable. But rest assured—you would be the closest living thing to a Super soldier."
He started walkin' toward me. Slow. Calm. Syringe still raised.
"Come now. It shall hurt ever so briefly. Just the sensation of every cell in your body tearing itself apart."
"Hell no," I said, takin' a step back. Wasn't even gonna sugarcoat it.
Gaius chuckled. Turned on his heel and stowed the syringe back into his coat.
"Then let us not waste one another's time. I am currently reviewing data from one of our more promising subjects... and the results are most encouraging," he said, already walkin' back to his console.