Hey guys! I'm sorry for the (super long) delay. I had a baby, and it's kind of hard to write. It's easier now that he is a little older. Anyways, enough about me.

I really do apologize. I made this chapter extra long and action packed to make up for it. Please don't hate me lol.

Enjoy.

Water lapped around pale, slightly wrinkled skin while steam danced across wispy chest hair and disappeared into the darkened room. Senior hands hung off the sides of the makeshift tub. Every so often they dipped into the water's depth to sprinkle moisture over the rag that hung on an aging face. As per his request, a slave girl with the voice of an angel sat in the corner and sang softly into the ether. Every expense was spared when the pain reappeared in his head. With a snap of his fingers the girl stopped crooning and poured more hot water over his chest. Cesar sighed as the scalding water swirled around his more private parts. He was just about to demand to be washed when a voice called for him outside of his tent.

"Enter," he barked, pulling off the rag. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the young woman away. Whoever was interrupting his bath had better have something important to say or there would be one more body hanging from a pole. One young face replaced the other, this one was half covered against the harsh desert with a red scarf. Cesar probably wouldn't have been able to recall a name even if the face had been bare. Not many of his men stood out unless they brought him honor in battle.

"Ave, my lord," the young Legionary panted, bending so that his face was nearly in the dirt. "I came as fast as I could. I have just received news from Cottonwood Cove, my Lord. Vulpes comes this way with a woman in tow. Reports believe it is Arria, my Lord."

"Stop your panting and leave me," Cesar sighed, his head pounding. As the flap fell behind the retreating youth, the ailing ruler replaced his now cold rag. With a humorless chuckle, Cesar smirked. "Vulpes, you sly fox, you said you could get her back here, and so, you did. When will I stop being surprised by your veracity?"

Cesar slid further into the cooling water, eager to relax as much as possible before his guest arrived. Surely, things would not be calm afterward. Not for a long time to come for sure.

Arria watched the waves slap against the barge that carried her closer to Hell. The sun shone rainbows in the gentle spray of river water then jeweled on the surface. Under different circumstances, the courier would have found it beautiful. Instead, her twisting stomach turned her bitter. Behind her, Vulpes was a shadow, hovering at the edge of her vision.

"We're almost there," Vulpes said close to her ear, his arms snaking themselves around her waist. "Cesar awaits you with open arms."

Arria fought back a gag. Just the thought of seeing the monster that had turned her life upside down made her skin crawl. She was saved a response when the sun bleached raft turned a final bend to reveal a red clay beach. Memories assaulted her mercilessly, tumbling over each other. This was the blood soaked stage of her childhood. Welcome home.

Vulpes and the icy boat man jumped off the barge, making the water swirl with crimson sediment. Together the pair of Legion men pulled the boat onto dry land. Arria stood there a moment longer than she should have. The second she stepped off this boat was the moment this was all real. She would be back in a world she had fought desperately to leave behind. Before she could talk herself out of it, the courier gracefully disembarked, eyes darting from person to person. Men clad in crimson oversaw women in rags as they carried heavy packs on twisted backs. Every now and then an officer would punctuate his words with a smart rap wherever they could reach. It took all of Arria's self-restraint to keep her mouth shut. Instead, she grabbed her pack and gritted her teeth.

With one last withering glance, the boatman pushed his dinghy loose from the slick beach, leaving the pair staring at the giant wooden doors of the Fort. The courier watched as Vulpes began walking away from her and closer to the life she had left in her dust. It wasn't until he was engulfed in the shadow of the gigantic door before she started moving forward. Before she knew it, she was surrounded.

Each soldier was the definition of wary. Hands gripped spears tighter than necessary as they demanded she turn over everything she had. Without argument, she turned over her weapons and pack for searching. She watched as some of the older soldiers rolled their eyes, probably remembering what she was capable of without weapons.

Arria kept her cool until one of the younger Legionaires got too handsy during the routine pat down. Before he could blink, she had his had twisted behind his back so far that he could grab his own hair. Joints popped, and he groaned in pain. At least ten spears were pointed at Arria's neck in an instant. Vulpes stiffened as if to step in but was halted by a withering glance from the courier.

"Numbers do no scare me," she murmured icily. "Touch me again, and I will send you into the hereafter." With that, she shoved him away and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Carry on," she heard Vulpes bark as she walked away.

Sometime later, she found herself padding down a path too familiar for her comfort. Cesar wasn't ready from her so she was to stay here the night. Vulpes had been called away on some Legion business, leaving her to roam the camp alone. Just as she had gotten off the hill from Cesar's tent, boys half her height ran past. Each carried practice spears or swords as they chased a poor slave with a red target plastered on his back. They moved with a speed that only youth could allow. The poor thing fled as fast as he could on limbs peppered with ugly bruises, but the boys were faster. They were a dogpile of limbs and pain when their teacher pushed past Arria.

"Sloppy!" he berated. Instantly, the young soldiers untangled themselves and formed a line in front of the instructor. Their faces ranged from irritated to disgraced. "Sloppy! Sloppy! Sloppy! Speed is not everything! Precision! Kill and get out of there."

Behind them, the slave struggled to get up. Blood poured from his nose and a slit in his lip. Guilt bubbled just below Arria's surface. She had once been praised during a simulation similar to this when she had actually killed the slave. Shaking the memory of all that blood from the forefront of her mind, she pushed past the instructor and his charges. The slave quivered and avoided eye contact as she moved closer. When she offered her hand, the man nearly fainted.

"Take it," she whispered, kneeling down beside him. Still he quaked. "What's your name?" she inquired in the softest voice she could muster. She tore the bottom of her shirt to make a couple strips of fabric. Gently, she cleaned his face of blood.

"I am called Greg," he mumbled, his hands still shaking by his side.

"Well, Greg, you're going to need stitches."

"Slaves get no treatment!" the teacher interrupted as he stepped forward. Arria shot him a distasteful glance.

"Then, I will just stitch him myself," she growled. "Come with me, Greg."

And with that, she left with her charge.

"I'm pleased to see you got him," Vulpes said, staring upward. Above his head hung a beaten figure.

"He was following you, just as you said, sir," the dust covered Legionnaire informed him. "We had a considerable loss of life capturing him, though."

The figure above chuckled brokenly and spit blood at Vulpes' feet. "I missed," his gruff voice growled.

"Hang around for a bit. The festivities have been halted for a day," Vulpes sneered as he twirled a red beret between his hands.

"I'm done. Go clean up," Arria ordered as she put down the fish hook she had to use as a needle. Apparently she hadn't replenished her stock before she had left, and she was kicking herself for it. With shaking hands, Greg touched her stitch work.

"Thank you," he sighed, his voice a melancholy baritone. With one last nod, he disappeared, and she was left with her thoughts.

This place was hell, and all the people in it were her demons. Coming back was a mistake and a half, no matter what the reason was. Her past was supposed to be just that: the past. Oh what she wouldn't give to be at the 38. Honestly, she rather be laying in a ditch with Benny's bullet in her brain than here in the flames of her nightmares.

Arria stood up, tired of feeling sorry for herself. She was letting this place get the best of her; it was pathetic. Before she knew what she was doing, her feet carried her up the path toward Satan's tent. Every step closer made her stomach sink lower and lower toward her toes. Just as she reached the entrance, she was blocked by a Legion thug with a spear. Arria eyed the dried blood around the base of the blade. Whatever happened to proper cleaning?

"Ave, true to Cesar," he barked, his breath hot on her face.

"Yeah, yeah," she waved his breath away. "I'm here to see Cesar. I've got other things to do besides waiting around here."

The guard mean mugged her with a condescending smirk playing on his lips. Arria imagined smacking that look from his face but instead tapped her foot impatiently.

"Lord Cesar is at no one's beck and call, traitor," he spat. "He's not taking visitors tonight. Try tomorrow."

Mentally, she was now cleaving his stupid face in two with gruesome precision. It was all she could do to turn around, and walk away. Her nails bit into the flesh of her palm, and her knuckles turned a ghostly white. She needed to hit something soon or she was going to lose her mind.

Commotion distracted her from her rage. Before her, men lined up around the arena in the middle of camp. Two young men kicked up Mojave dust as they attacked each other viciously. There were many reasons two soldiers would enter the circle, but boredom seemed to have spurred this particular altercation. Most of the time, they were stopped before life was wasted, but Arria could remember a few times when there was no stopping the destruction, when pride was too strong. She herself had never been allowed in the ring, but with how she was feeling, there was a first time for everything.

With savage eyes and zero patience, the courier watched the two boys grapple. Honestly, if she wasn't jumping out of her skin, she would have to admit that they were very strong fighters. Each move from either side was calculated and brutal. Blood flowed from noses, mouths, and even from ears. With one final right hook, the loser spiraling, his nose bent at an odd angle. When he fell, he did not rise until a few spectators broke free to collect him. He left of trail of red out of the ring. Arria tied her hair back and followed the still glistening crimson smear.

"I do not require stitches," the winner chortled as she got closer.

"I stand here as a challenger, not a nurse," she stated. Her words were met with a hush from the crowd of men. Eyes swiveled in her direction, eager to see the new challenger. The last champion scoffed.

"You?"

"I could say the same about you. I demand a good fight. If you're too injured to give it to me, step aside. I don't fool around."

"Who am I to deny a death wish?" the Legionary shrugged as he stemmed his bleeding. Crimson tide under controlled, he then began shaking himself loose. His limbs moved like jelly.

Arria, however, stood quite still and watched. Every muscle was taunt with stress, and she didn't want to waste energy jumping around like a fool. No, she wanted to unleash on him.

"Are you sure you can fight in that condition?"

"Worried about my health, traitor? "

"More like worried about the quality of the fight."

They squared off amidst calls and whistles from the crowd. As the circled each other, Arria categorized her opponent. Blood still leaked from a probable busted ear drum, and his right knee showed the slightest inclination to give when he put pressure on it. He had entered the fight under the assumption that 75 percent would be enough to take care of her. It was her duty to prove him wrong.

The young man made the first move as soon as the sun was angled in her eyes. He tried to rush her, but with a smirk, she flitted away. He must be new, using her own move against her. Instead, she swung around and put all her weight into her elbow, making sure to hit the very middle of his back. He tried to grab at her legs as he fell down, only to receive a knee to the teeth. After floundering on the ground for a second, he was back on his feet with blood gushing from his mouth. His eyes held warily to her every move. It seemed to have dawned on him that this was not a fight merely based on pride.

This time, Arria came after him. With lightning speed, she boxed his ears to disorient him. In the same movement, she grabbed his throat and threw him over her shoulder. Before he could get up, Arria was standing over him, her boot the last this he saw before he passed out. When he spat out a tooth, she backed off. Seconds passed like hours and yet he did not move to get up. The skin on his face resembled ground up meat. Eventually, two men came to retrieve his unconscious form.

"I repeat: I do not mess around," she panted to the crowd. "Who's next?"

Some time later, the injury rate had risen considerably around the arena, and yet more men were interested in trying their luck in the ring than ever before. Arria sported a few half healed cuts but no serious injuries. Sadly, it was mostly younger, unseasoned Legionaries willing to tussle with her. The older ones remembered her and generally just shouted instructions and cheered the loudest when a hit did manage to land.

"My turn," came a deep voice from within the crowd. Out of the ocean of crimson came a man wearing a mask of gold. His gait was wide and strong, and his mass would have intimidated a lesser opponent. His appearance sent to crowd into a frenzy.

"I am Lanius," he stated, taking off his armor.

"Well, Lanius, it may behoove you to keep that on," she noted. The mountain in front of her continued to peel off his layers. When he was done, a bear of a man stood half naked in front of her. In normal Legion fashion, the circled each other.

His goal must have been to intimidate her with his sheer size. Instead, she calculated that he was slow. Powerful but surely slow. She was, however, thrown off by his mask. His face was unreadable, his next move lost to her. This would be a battle to remember.

With unanticipated speed, Lanius rushed toward her in an attempt to shake her up. Unsuccessfully, Arria tried to flit away as before. Instead, she was caught by the wrist and pulled closer. His breath was on her face for just a moment before she was lifted off the ground. Breath left her lungs as she met the ground with more force than imaginable. The crowd roared as she tried to suck in air. Again and again he slammed her, alternating between the ground and the side of the ring. Finally, he threw her from him. With a sickening crunch, she landed on her wrist.

Pain exploded behind her eyes like a messed up light show. She had to get her bones straight or they would heal right, but all she wanted to do was breath for a second. Unfortunately, the sounds of his footsteps signaled she didn't have that kind of time. Before she knew it, her eyes saw blue sky as he held her over his head.

Arria forced herself to move. She couldn't lose this one. With all her effort, she wrapped her legs around his arm and twisted with all her might. The world spun as she flipped behind him with his arm still between her feet. Quickly, she caught herself with her good arm, let go of his arm, and scurried away. Her foe's arm hung at an odd angle for but a moment before he popped it back into place. The crunch echoed through the arena.

Once again, they faced each other. Arria held her arm over her chest to keep her wrist straight, the bones already knitting together. With every new connection, her hand twitched painfully. If she was going to win this one, she was going to have to do this quick.

Lanius faked to the left before trying to rush her again. Arria used his momentum to sling shot herself onto his back. Despite the pain, she hooked her arm around his neck and squeezed as hard as she could. Using her core to swing her legs, she slammed her knees into his ribs to try to kick the air out of his lungs. Pain blinded her momentarily when her back met the wall of the ring. Still she held on and continued her assault. He had grabbed her foot and started twisting just as a voice rang out. Everything stopped.

"That is enough!" Vulpes said. He had not shouted, and yet everyone was silent as if he had.

"I will say when I have had enough," Lanius growled, slightly out of breath. Even so, Arria slid off his back.

"It is past training hours. All of you have other things to do."

Despite all the flurry of activity around them, Lanius stood right where he was. His bloodshot eyes stared daggers at Vulpes.

"Always the nursemaid, never the warrior, eh, Vulpes?" the gigantic man sneered. To his credit, the Frumentraii didn't react to his words.

"Come, Arria," cooed Vulped. "Oh, and Lanius, the time will come when you see just how much of a warrior I am. Until then." With a scathing look backwards, he left.

"Until then," Arria echoed. With a quick wink, the courier followed his footsteps in the dust.

The moon hung full above her eyes as her body floated effortlessly in the cool water. She couldn't hear any of the noise from the Legion camp, not that there was much this time at night. For once, her soul felt as weightless as her body as the waves tried to carry her away. She was alone, and she liked it. She didn't have to look at Vulpes' face and see all the words unspoken. She didn't have to think about Boone and his broken soul. All that needed her attention now was staying afloat. It was a perfect silence.

Vulpes had invited her to spend the night in his tent, but Arria had declined. She needed the sky above her at this point, not a sweaty man. No, she would rather be embraced by the water all night. It wasn't like she was going to sleep anyways. Instead, she watched the stars twinkle and enjoyed the silence.

"Did you stay out there all night?" Vulpes asked. He sounded like he already knew the answer.

"Is Cesar ready to see me?" Question for question.

"Dry off first," he commanded.

"He can see me as I am," she snapped back. Cesar was nothing special, despite what he had convinced everyone else. For a second, Vulpes looked as if he may argue, eventually deciding to drop it. If anyone knew how stubborn she could be, it was him. Instead, he just led the way.

The pair walked past soldiers and slaves alike until they stood in front of the dreaded tent. This time, the guard let her pass without any sort of trouble. She swore she heard him snicker before the tent flap closed behind her, though.

It was as if she had never left. Everything was still where she last remembered it being except for one thing: Benny lay to her right in a bleeding mess. His hands were tied in front of him, and his bloody stump of a trigger finger was highly visible. The checkered man cowered when his eyes finally focused on Vulpes. Arria almost felt sorry for him.

"A present for the return our prodigal daughter," Cesar murmured, gesturing to Benny. The rulers eyes were unreadable behind a mask of false cheer. "Welcome home." Shadows danced on the face of her past, and she almost bowed. He looked much older than she remembered, more worn around the edges. His command was not lessened, however, as he stared her down.

"I don't need the small talk, Cesar. Let's get down to business."

Vulpes hissed his displeasure as he walked past her. With a bow, he took his place on Cesar's left and stared hard at Arria.

"Very well," Cesar inclined his head toward their captive. "What should we do with him?"

"Let him go. Kill him. Makes no difference to me," she grunted. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep herself in the present. More and more of her was reverting to the old days when she would bow to him and avoid eye contact. His eyes never wavered from her. This was a test that she would pass, damn it.

"My, my, you really have changed, haven't you?" he asked, his voice betraying his surprise. "You used to love spilling blood."

"I just want out of here," she snapped. It was getting harder and harder to keep her voice steady.

"But, you are home, Arria. This is your home. This is your family. And we have missed you," said Cesar. His voice was the definition of ironic, and his words made his guards snicker briefly. A sickening sneer cracked his face as he watched her.

"The feeling isn't mutual," she growled. "I've done just fine on my own."

"Yes, I see that," he motioned to Benny. She scowled. "I take it he has powers he has not showed us yet?"

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, but it is," Cesar tutted. "You are our weapon. I spent too much time making sure you were the perfect warrior to let some checkered clad asshole take you out! You owe me your life, your loyalty!"

His face grew redder with each and every word that he uttered, giving away his anger. He stared at her for a second longer before leaning back in his chair and shadowing his eyes with his hand. Finally, Arria looked away. His words cut at her core training as a soldier.

"I am a human being," she barked, more to herself than to him. A sign unseen by her sent a body guard flying at her. Quickly, she threw him to the ground and stepped on his neck. Blood from a cut on her hand dripped onto his face. He must have scratched her on the way down.

"Could a human do that?" Cesar's raspy voice cut through her thoughts. She looked up to see him motioning to her already healing cut. "You are so much more than just a human."

"Then, I am more than you," she growled, as she turned the body guard loose. Cesar's chuckle threw her off.

"That is like saying a dog is more than a human. Sure, they are bred with superior traits, but they still serve a master. It is the one who controls the beasts that is 'more', as you put it."

"You don't control me."

"Oh don't I?"

Their eyes locked, a silent battle of wills waging. The tent was so quiet that Arria could hear the heart beats of everyone present. Everyone's but Cesar's was racing, bracing themselves to come between her and their master. The sick old man, however, was certain she wouldn't lay a finger on him, and sadly, he was right. She couldn't do it. It wasn't in her DNA to take down the man who practically raised her. Granted, there was no love there. She wanted to hurt him. But, her limbs wouldn't listen to her.

"What do you want, Cesar?" she asked, her eyes leaving his. The courier's ears picked up a faint rustling sound as the older man took something from his pants. He flicked a circular artifact to her, and on reflex, she caught it. In her hand lay the infamous platinum chip. It almost seemed to glow hauntingly in the dull light of the tent. She closed her fist around it, and looked up.

"I've seen that design before, and I dare say you have, too?" Cesar said.

Arria thought back to before she left the Legion. Yes, she had seen this before. How had she not thought of it before? The bunker under the camp.

"You see what I want now?" he asked. Before she could answer, there was a commotion right outside the tent flap. She turned just as four men entered the tent. Three wore Legion crimson, and their captive wore a bloodied tee shirt. It took her but a moment to realize who they had between them. Instantly, her heart took off like a rocket. They had Boone.

His nose and bottom lip were swollen and bleeding profusely. His face was peppered with cuts and unsightly bruises. Every inch of his that she could see held some sort of damage. Her blood ran cold, and red flashed before her eyes.

"Ah, Vulpes, your guest has joined us a little before schedule," Cesar smiled. Vulpes walked past Arria to see what had happened.

"My apologies, sir," the smallest one whispered. "He had somehow gotten the ties loose. We lost another man-"

"Enough," Vulpes snapped icily. He turned toward the bleeding sniper with controlled movements. "You are testing my patience, profligate."

"Lucky you. I have none to test," the sniper spat. Blood pooled underneath him. Arria stood rooted to the spot as Vulpes took him by the elbow. She wanted to reach out to his ss they passed, but she was stunned by shock. Her worlds were colliding violently. One part of her was about to kill the other. The ground didn't seem so stable. The air didn't seem so breathable.

"My Lord, this is the profligate that has aided in Arria's stay from the Legion," Vulpes declared as he pushed Boone in front of Cesar. To his credit, Boone didn't say anything. He just stared at the face of the monster.

"You are the one I have heard so much about," Cesar mused. "You have taken our very own and turned her against the Legion. Tricky, tricky sniper." He took a moment, deliberated for but a second. "You believe that Arria will stay if he is taken out of the picture, Vulpes?"

Arria turned just in time to see the Frumentarii nod in agreement. The whoosh of blood in her ears drowned out any further conversation, but she could still see Cesar wave his hands and give the order to execute her sniper. One bodyguard stepped forward, a spear aimed for Boone. Arria was moving before her thoughts could tell her to. Just as the spear was supposed to pierce Boone's chest, she snapped it. In the same motion, she flipped it from his hands and stabbed him with the broken end.

With fury pulsing through her veins, she incapacitated anyone who came near her broken sniper. The guards from outside the tent came in, drawn in by the commotion. She sent them flying back out with their skulls crushed. Cesar stood up, calling for help. He only managed to utter a few syllables before Arria grabbed him by the throat.

"I am controlled by no one. I am owned by no one. I am free, and I will remain that way," she growled before she slammed him into the ground. She didn't stop until she couldn't hear his heart beat anymore. Benny had used the commotion to bolt, leaving Arria with Boone, Vulpes, and a pile of dead bodies. Vulpes held a spear, but hesitated ever so slightly before pointing it at her.

"Come near me again, Vulpes, and I will kill you. I swear I will," she snarled as she snapped his spear with just her hand. The courier walked toward the sniper and helped him up. Together they left the Frumentarii alone. The sound of their war could be heard as Vulpes just stood in the center of the tent, stunned.