[b][i]Raven Rivers[/i][/b]

"Albert!" said the soldier as he took out his Hunting Rifle, crouched, and fired at the Legionnaires, trying to cover his friend as he tried to get a feel for the enemy's numbers. It seemed as though the Legion's tattered remnants were not done yet; they had sent a force to besiege the camp. Well, like heck they're gonna take him again; he needed to clear his head and more importantly, clear the way for the clearly-allied Vertibird to arrive and land. Gritting his teeth, he dived behind a stack of boxes as he realized that [i]the gate had been blown open[/i]; he had to hold back the enemy lest they slaughtered everyone inside - Or worse.

He was unlucky enough to be cut off from the other NCR troops, but Raven had learned to live with his lack of fortune a long time ago. Not caring that he might be in the midst of a Legion onslaught, he fired at a Recruit Legionnaire coming through the gate and shot the foe dead in the eyes; a merciful fate for someone who had lived knowing nothing but inflicting and taking torment. 

This [i]did[/i] result in him getting the attention of what seemed to be, in this fog of war, an entire squad of Legionnaires rushing towards him, turning themselves into 'bullet sponges' so that a couple of their remaining Veterans can shoot at him with their caravan shotguns and cowboy repeaters. It didn't matter; he will survive this - His luck was abysmal but it would not grant him the peace of death as long as there were more opportunities to suffer more.

He remembered Timothy's face and their stolen moments, he remembered slaves throwing away what they had believed before to join the arena in hopes of getting an 'amnesty' and a chance to join their tormentors. This was time he could have used to throw a grenade if he had carried one, but alas, such was his luck and the influence of PTSD; Raven endured it nonetheless.

Drawing his Service Rifle now, Raven shot again, perforating a machete-wielding Legionnaire in the gut - It wasn't going to be a clean death this time.

Legion as well as NCR soldiers began falling around him, but Raven held out, having learned a perverse trust in his bad luck that he would be spared in order to be tortured more, and until that time, he'd survive what the Wasteland had to throw at him. 

There was one Legionnaire facing him, one last survivor of the squad that had rushed him. It might just be a trick of his mind, but that Legionnaire looked like him, like the son he could have had if he had stayed behind and married a woman - 

Raven was already instinctively dodging the foe's attempted stabbing with a gladius, before focusing long enough to score a gash on his opponent's armor and ripping off the breastplate through the gash. Then he stabbed again, burying his switchblade inside the enemy's guts; he'd requisition a new one later on. Were the NCR counterattacking? Had he bought them enough time and space, or did they misuse it?

He did not know...