following the years of horrible wasteland chaos, one sought to make everything right. Hajakala, master of the ICE TOWEZ, would rise. Tis was a brisk windy day, perfect weather to swish the cape of the for-now lone master. 3:00PM, time for him to head out. The lone wanderer worked his way over to the southeast, entering into the Fort.

"Please forfeit your weapons"
"suck my dick"

hajakala replied as he pulled out his jacket pocket a 9mm, shooting the legionary in the head. The other legionaries attempted to pull their weapons out but found themselves suddenly frozen. A sudden chill had come over them, freezing them and the nearby lake.

The lone masked man walked up the wooden steps, built from the hands of people who saw greater futures, but they were now dead. As hajakala worked his way up he noticed a guard at the front door watching him as he walked towards him.

"Halt. You cannot step in unless Caesar has requested you."
"How do you know he hasn't"
"Because he would never order such Legion killing scum into his own camp, prepare to die!"

As hajakala turn round he noticed he was suddenly surrounded. He simply put up his hands and smiled. A nearby legionary walked towards him Distabler Glove on hand, as he reached hajakala he asked

"why are you smiling, your gonna die you fuckin punk"
"look children to the eastern sky's where the young take hold where the bodies have fried"

The Legionary decided he had lived long enough, putting hajakalas head to the ground he readied to punch it flat.


A legionary said. There was a change in the wind.

"Its probably --"

The legionaries voice was unheard through the roar of bombs coming down. They had begun to rain down upon the lower section of the Fort, and were slowly working their way up, at the rate of climb, it would be a matter of seconds until the legionaries were dead.

"why, you will die too! you fool!"
"Cause fuck you, that's why"

Hajakala immediately proceeded to get up and run straight into the bomb shed. Baffled at first the battle frenzied legionaries decided it must be some sort of hoax and ran into the bomb shed with him. Hajakala got up, having survived the blast as planned. He started to walk up to where Caesars Camp, the last part of the Fort untouched by the bombs rigged to blast within 20 minutes of activating. On his way up the desert and barren he noticed a body. Severed hands, missing a leg, shakily breathing.

"you.. you did this.. you.. cant.. win..why"
"the ice towers shall rise, and i cant have measly threats stand idly by"
"you.. cant win.. chaos.. never prevails.."
"never say never"

And so he walked, leaving the body to burn in away, a symbol of the what would come of the faction that was Caesars legion. Caesars tent, stained red with the blood of his enemies, lay flap open. Caesar knew he was coming, and sent his guards away, this is a battle between equals. There they stood, the bull and the tower.

"You have come such a long ways for a small feat"
"are you implying you realize your army is small"
good armies don't need to be big"
"Lanius is dead"
"the legion cannot die, as long as there in conformity there is anarchy in response"
"well that wont be a problem much longer"
"what do you mean to say"
"i mean to say that you are exactly right, Conformity is necessary for there to be Chaos, you shall not be around to see it though"
"Let us see if the Blade of the West can be taken down by a simple cold heart"

Caesar drew his weapon of choice, a big curved sword, similar to a rapier in shape, tied to it, a sacred hand knitted flag bearing the bull. To show respect, hajakala drew his best weapon. His weapon of choice, a long poll, one inch in diameter, made of a solid alloy, a mixture between Carbon diamond and Carbon fiber, lightweight and very powerful. Caesar, out of hatred, did not dally and immediately swung his legacy at the lone man, but the man with the cold heart had no interest in giving this man a fair fight, no interest in giving him his due respect as a leader, so he thus stepped aside and watched Caesar swing at thin air, while Caesar on the other hand, looked rightward to see death smiling at him, lifting his scythe, and taking yet another life with ease.

With word of the legions bombing and ultimate defeat, the New California Republic celebrated in the worst way they could think of. Throwing a giant celebration party outside the New California Republic Embassy caused trouble for the strip. The soldiers, wasted and full of vigorous cheer, sometimes drunkenly wondered in to the strips nearby casinos, harassing the strip and its patrons. At the end of the day approximately five soldiers had not returned home, one of which was the current leader of the New California Republic, President Kimball, with his death a new leader arose. Ambassador Crocker, having of course already been at the Embassy, assumed control.

When all sobered out, President Crocker decided that house had been in control too long, and with Caesars army out of the way, he had the extra man power and the means to stop him. By the end of a one month war between house and the New California Republic, the New California Republic had declared its victory. House was doomed from the start, merely relying on his MK.II Bot assemblies to do the job, but with all three factories shut down and Houses casino bugged, it was a matter of waiting for house to die off. The Strip, now taken over by the New California Republic, became a freer society. As night fell however, the semi drunk soldiers found themselves feeling more empty.

"Sir, what are we going to do now.."
"we still have one thing left, one more dangerous then House and Legion could ever have dreamed"
"just remember, the cold hearted have nothing to wait for, be on your guard at all times"

The next morning panic had arisen. The soldiers had woken up leaderless, as President Crocker was gone, and with most of the soldiers either being hung over or the rest unqualified, this had left them leaderless. Without immediate help to turn to the New California Republic broke. There became two flags not one. On one hand the small army of the still New California Republic waved the Bear proudly, but with fear deep down. On the other hand, old New California Republic, feeling lost within, traveled throughout the mohave, most of them, desperate to belong somewhere, joined up with the Brotherhood Of Steel. Feeling assured under their new leader, Elder McNamara, they told him of the rest of their brethren that had not joined them. McNamara, needing all the troops he could get, sent Brotherhood men out to talk to the left New California Republic. Tensions soon rised and they found they were better without each other. The New California Republic however, mad by the feeling of betrayal from its brethren, decided the brotherhood had been around under their noses long enough.

"Remember, one in every vent"
"its only blowing up vents, how will this take care of it"
"the vents dictate the oxygen input and output and also keep the electricity running, with no oxygen they cant breathe and with no Electricity they cant open the automated doors, now lets go.."

Having used half of their spare explosive supply, the New California Republic proceeded to place their remote detonated charges on each of the fans in Hidden Valley. Once back at the Strip, feeling safe in distance and in getting out without being seen, they set off the charges and watched as first the explosion, then the smoke, as it billowed out for what seemed a eternity. Success was only a pardoning gift however, as with no leader and nowhere to turn, the New California Republic soon joined forces with the one left faction.

As is the dead Brotherhood, with the dead New California Republic, siding by the dead House and Legion in hell. In the end all that stood were the two tall blue towers, somehow cold to the touch, just as the man who had risen them. His army, though small, was all that was needed. They say War, war never changes. If though, there are no opposing factions left, War, War doesn't need, to change.