The duo had spent eight hours resting in their hotel room before they made their way towards the administrative office. He had seen something similar in Riga - back then it was only busy due to the lockdown thanks to his caravan's arrival. Here, it was open as he was given permission to meet with the man in question. "Welcome to my office, what do you need?"

Artyom stepped forward and smiled at the old man. "I am here to acquire a passport for my friend - here."

"Understandable. Do you have the hundred bullets to pay for the cost?"

The stalker reached into his knapsack, only to feel to have two cartridges. "I think I'm short on bullets."

"If that's the case, you're dismissed." The old man replied.

"Maybe you can shorten the fee and I could pay for it."

It appeared he had offended the man. "You think you could barter your way out of this? Get out of my office before I let Lev do it for me."

Then Cass came to his aid. "Sir, is there a way we could pay for it without taking so long?"

"No, now-hold on." The administrator paused for a moment with his finger raised. "In fact, I do have a proposition that might be worth mentioning."

"Really?"

"Yes. Are either of you good shots?"

As soon as Artyom heard the mention of that, he began to ask. "I am, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Young man, it related to your passport problem. You see, Venice boasts to have the best firing range in all of the Metro for live targets such as rats. However, the gangsters have made it difficult since several of them are decent shots. If what you say is true, I want you to win since I made a big fucking bet and I want those bastards to finally pay their taxes for once without scaring the taxman. Do that, you can have your passport for free."

"You would do that?" He wondered. It sounded good… too good.

"Do you want it or not?"

"I'll take it. Where is the firing range?"

"When you leave my office it's on your left."

"Okay."

When they left the administrator's office, Cass started the conversation. "We got ourselves in deep shit. Are you sure you're a good shot as you claim to be?"

"Yeah, going by a friend."

"A friend." She scoffed at the thought. "Who could that friend be?"

"Hunter, the best Polis Ranger in the Metro. He said I was a good shot when we were attacked by nosalises. I trust his word as much as I trust yours."

"Well, hopefully he's right about that."

He smiled at her skepticism. "He also said I'd make a good stalker if I left my home station and here I am."

"He's definitely not wrong in that regard."

After they arrived at the firing range, both could hear gunfire in the distance as men were cheering or demoralizing the shooter at hitting the rodents. Artyom and Cass joined the observation spot with many others while he noted several of the men were wearing those vests were not too different from the ones at the bar. Past the several surviving rodents was a timer that counted down to zero.

When it finally reached the undividable number, he could hear the shooter standing on the platform on his right swear. Then he noticed the locals end up paying their gangster neighbors a bet they owed. However, a speaker stood up on the platform where the shooter once was. "Ladies and gentlemen, particularly the visitors, do you have the skills to surpass the local sharpshooters?"

"Artyom, raise your hand." Cass whispered into his ear.

As he raised his hand, the old man spoke. "Looks like we have a volunteer. Step right up, stalker. Let's see if you are able to kill all of the rats in the allocated time allowed." The speaker stepped down before Artyom was quick to take position on the platform. "Doesn't matter what weapon it is as long as you can hit what you're seeing. We'll start off in the first phase."

He heard one of the observation spot scoff at him. "He won't hit shit!"

However, he ignored the comment as he raised his assault rifle and looked down its scope. Then he heard the gates raised before five rats stepped out of their cages and crawled across the range in the open, nowhere to go. The red numbers gave him thirty seconds to kill as he aimed his sights for his first target.

The rat stopped in its tracks, but also allowed the young man to line up his shot. With a single pull of the trigger, the rat was struck immediately before a comment from the crowd was surprised by his accuracy. "Well this is looking interesting."

He killed his second target.

"Bring out your moonshine."

The third target exploded into pink mist.

"Fucking sniper!"

The fourth rat was tossed around at the force of the bullet.

"Damn it all."

Then the fifth rat's blood was seeping across the concrete.

"My drinks to you sniper."

The speaker took the lead once again. "Excellent, I can see that one of our visitors has shown he has quite the sight and the trigger finger. Now comes the second phase, that few will ever surpass. Young man you will be given a minute, but there will be thirty targets pouring out of the cages any second now. Kill as many as you can; however, your main goal is to eliminate all of them. Understand."

Artyom nodded his head.

"Three… two… one… away!"

Without hesitation, the stalker fired his weapon. Two bodies died between the several beginning seconds he was allowed. To any other man, this would have been a challenge, but Artyom saw it differently. These rodents needed to die, it reminded him too much of his mother. Each kill was not out of desire for wealth, but for revenge. These creatures killed her for their hunger and killed people he loved.

When his weapon was empty, he was quick to discard the empty magazine and insert a new one. The barrel of his weapon was smoking with every shot fired, he was tempted to fire at full-auto, but Artyom wanted to save the ammo. Shell casings were ejected as he watched the rats feel the punishment they truly deserved. Had it not been for them, his mother would have lived and he wouldn't feel lonely within the Metro.

Little did Artyom realize, he was truly wasting bullets. He had been enraged by the memories of the endless small monsters that he had forgotten where he was.

The speaker caught his attention. "Is there a reason why you put too many bullets in the rodents?"

The young man calmed down for a moment to speak his mind. "I don't particularly like rats."

He laughed at his response. "You heard it folks, our visiting gunslinger is now a great ratslayer. Those who made their bets, pay up or recieve." Then he leaned closer to the stalker. "Since you did quite a swell job at making a show, you'll get ten percent."

Now that was a relief now that he was earning bullets and getting a free passport. As he walked out of the firing range with his companion, he heard her talk. "What happened back there? You seemed a bit off."

She didn't deserve to know. "It's nothing."

"Nothing? You seemed a bit agitated when you saw those rats. What's up with that?"

Artyom continued to ignore her, but she reached out for his hand and stopped him. "I'm rather worried knowing you did that."

He lowered his head. "I don't tell anybody about this, but my mother was eaten alive by rats."

Cass nodded her head, acknowledging his reason. "I'm sorry to know that happened."

"Let's go, I don't want to stand in the open."

When they returned to the administrator's office, the old man raised his eyebrows. "A runner came back to tell me what happened."

"Will you fulfill your part of the deal?"

"Of course, what kind of man would I be if I didn't keep my end of the bargain." Then his attention fell upon the caravaneer. "Follow me, young lady. You'll get your passport."

Anna called it a day when she walked into her motel room and jumped onto her bed. The Ranger had spent most of her day guarding Novac within the dino. It was a good job despite having a limited ammunition for her duties. She tried to buy ammo from Mr. Briscoe, but the lack of these bottle caps didn't help her case. The young woman would receive payments for her hourly work, but it wasn't enough.

She walked to her refrigerator to snatch one of those strange fizzy drinks that the locals were fond of. Sarsaparilla they called it. Her father once mentioned them before the bombs fell and they were just common as toys, but became a rarity if not an extinct drink in the Metro. Anna thought about the possibility of finding a way back, not because of the practical means of refilling the ammo of her Preved, but she was sure her father was worried about her.

When she took a seat on her bed, she finally took the opportunity to keep the bottle cap for herself before taking a sip of her drink. After being placed in the refrigerator for a long time while a Ranger such as herself worked in the sun, it as refreshing to have. To think that she could appreciate the cold when it mattered.

Yet, Anna's senses in her stomach were tingling as if there was something wrong. Her experience as a Ranger had saved her life many times and she felt that she was being watched by somebody. Of course, it could be paranoia, but one couldn't be too careful. She rose from her bed and made her way to the door while her boots were still on. Had she acted like this in the Metro, her father wouldn't shut up about pissing off the janitors.

When she arrived at the door, she looked through the small eye hole at the door, only to see the friendly sight of Jeannie May standing there. As she knocked on her door, Anna reached down for her silenced weapon out of suspicion. After all of her days in the town, the old woman was acting strangely around her as if she was hiding something. Anna didn't know why, but there was a terrible gut feeling about her.

Jeannie May Crawford knocked on the door once more, catching the Ranger's attention. "Hello, are you up?"

Still holding on to her weapon, Anna presented a composure which made sure the old woman would never see her holding gun while she opened the door. When a small crack was opened, Jeannie smiled at her. "Good evening. Is there something you need?" The Russian wondered.

"No, not at all. I just came here to tell you that I've got some people here to clean up your room if you could give them a moment." The motel manager stated. "I apologize if they take too much of your time."

It was in the middle of the night. Why would the manager send people to clean up her room around this hour? There was something wrong about this moment. Behind Jeannie, Anna recognized the infamous armor that chased her the moment she arrived in this world. They rushed after her while the old woman stood there.

"Nothing personal missy."

Then one of the Legion soldiers spoke up. "Quick, capture her" The leader whispered.

Knowing she was being under attack, the sniper backed away from the door and drew the Preved over her shoulder before pointing the large rifle at the assailants. When they swung the door open, Anna saw the stack of men presenting an opportunity to capture her… and get in her way. After she pulled the trigger, Anna felt the recoil as she watched three Legionnaires were struck in a row by her anti-tank rifle.

Before she had the opportunity to pull the bolt back, two more men stormed into the room with blades drawn. They may have caught her off-guard, but she was not going to let them take her quietly.

Anna grabbed her VSV and pulled the trigger, spraying the gunfire in their general direction. One of the Legionnaires joined the rest of his brothers while bullets bounced off the other. In this engagement, Anna saw Jeannie's head get struck by a bullet as her body fell from the second floor. That bullet had the bitch's name on it.

When her mag ran empty, she immediately switched for a new one before the Legionnaire tried to bring his large sledgehammer on her. Yet, the Ranger took two steps back allowing her footwork to delay her target and reload. Once she finished the reload, Anna continued to fire her weapon to resist her assailants. However, the man scoffed at her defiance. "You are a strong one, the Legion would benefit from your womb."

Was that their reason to capture in the middle of the night? So they could fuck her and make babies to be dead soldiers? No, she would fight tooth and nail to make sure she didn't get that point. She was a Ranger and she would make sure this asshole knew why nobody fucks with Rangers. She lowered the barrel of her silencer from his chest and let the gunfire do the work. "Up yours, fucker."

After the fighting was over, Anna saw the wounded Legionnaire lying on the ground with both of his arms between his legs. This man deserved that to happen to him. Meanwhile another figure arrived at the door. "Anna, what the hell happened here?"

She looked away from the groaning assailant to the former NCR sniper as she withdrew her weapon to the back. "Jeannie sent these assholes after me. She thought she could disguise a squad of Legion soldiers as a janitor crew. Good think I put a bullet her her head as well."

"Damn. Looks like I'll have to tell the others about what happened here tonight." Boone replied. "Now I can get to the bottom of this."

What did this American mean by this? "You knew about this?"

He nodded his head. "A long-story-short, someone kidnapped my wife. However, they knew where to go and how to get to my blindspots. I suspected that someone was part of this." He looked out the balcony to see the body below. "Now I can confirm who did it."

"Hopefully, this never happens to anyone ever again."

"That makes two of us." Then he made his way over to the wounded soldier writhing in agony. "We should head to Camp McCarran and inform the NCR what happened here?"

"Why?" She wondered.

"When the Legion sends slavers this far, they're probing for weaknesses and getting ready for an upcoming assault. Get some rest, we'll set off in the morning to bring this guy over."

Gunfire echoed throughout the night. Ever since the coalition had deployed in this other world, they were immediately under attack by these Fiends, but they were always repulsed whenever they tried to regain lost territory. However, the counter-offensive planned by the Polis Rangers was now in full effect.

The Reds had made contact with the local military authorities - the NCR. The objective was to link up with their forces and create a corridor that may allow the coalition to push the Fiends from the south into a stranglehold. If the rescued locals were anything to go by, the only other option these madmen had was going to the northwest, but it was said to contain deadly mutated creatures.

Still, it would only matter after the first phase. Thankfully, the soldiers of the Fourth Reich would get some action after seeing what they saw at Paveletskaya. It was one thing to see mutated humans, but it was another to see people create suffering for the fun of it.

Hans trekked through the ruins to the east with his fellow Panzergrenadiers watching his back. Given that he was the heavy weapons export, he was top priority in keeping the platoon in order. Having a dozen men under his command would have been an uneasy task. Yet, his experience of fighting in the Metro for Russian Reich had hardened his resolve to act as a leader.

Advancing through the night was difficult, but it was preferable than getting shot in the open. Thankfully, they had their nightvision goggles on their person, giving the platoon the tools they needed to make the journey.

One of his men was quick to talk. "It would be nice of the NCR to have some patrols to come meet us."

Hans was quick to inform his kameraden. "One of the Reds told the Rangers they're constantly under attack. Don't be quick to judge them, Diesel."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to trust a subhuman? Not a month ago we were station across the frontline."

"Yes, but you weren't there when the Legion attacked out outpost. If the reports from Polis are true, I'm sketchy with their news, these assholes are worse than the Commies."

"What has the world gone to?" Diesel wondered. "The Fourth Reich is fighting alongside subhumans to deal with invaders."

"Don't be so pessimistic." Hans replied. "Since they have more men, they're more likely to get themselves killed."

That was enough to earn a laugh from the other soldiers.

A bullet whizzed past the Nazi as he saw muzzle flashes throughout the green vision. There was a collapsed building filled with various hostiles firing from their position. "Contact, find cover!" He ordered. The heavy trooper brought his pepperbox to bear as he spun the barrels in their direction. "Fire and move, fire and move!"

When his gatling gun fired away, his goggles watched the makeshift tracers fly in their direction. Those stupid enough to remain standing were cut down. Meanwhile, several Nazi troopers returned fire on their ambushers. He could hear Diesel spouting orders for the assault team to get in close. "Get the grenade launcher, I want that building turned to rubble!"

Hans watched three grenades fly into the building as the bodies of the enemy were cut down by the explosive fragmentations. Despite the casualties inflicted, several of them took the opportunity to get out of cover and charge him. "Stupid motherfuckers, let's put them down."

To his surprise, a stream of fire came out from the left flank, catching the drug addicts in flames. The victims screamed at their burning flesh before automatic gunfire brought the agonized targets to the ground.

The Nazis pointed their weapons at the street on the left, only to find two people that would mix well upon the surface of the Dead City. "Good job Petrovich."

When the strangers revealed their nationality, Hans released his grip on his pepperbox as the barrels slowly decelerated back into a stopping position. However, he could see their faces pale at their arrival. "Who the fuck are you?!"

"Stalkers." One of the two men answered. "I'm Simon and my flamethrower pal is Petrovich. The NCR promised to pay us if we meet with you. Though, I was hoping we wouldn't meet any Nazis on this little walk of ours."

"Is there a point to this?"

"Yeah, the camp is this way. Follow us, we'll introduce you to the assholes and meet the cunts." The stalker answered.

"You don't seem so happy to meet us."

"I'm being paid to talk to Nazis. My friend and I are not exactly thrilled."

After Cass was finished, they both walked out of the administrator's office while the caravaneer was inspecting her papers. "I'll be honest, I didn't think getting my own papers would be this easy. Back in the Mojave, NCR Bureaucracy would have taken at least a week to get these papers done. Thanks for helping me out."

Artyom smiled at her gratitude and it felt good. "You're welcome. Now we just have to go to Polis."

The next response came out of another voice, by the tone alone, the man sounded like he was waiting for him. "You will."

Cass turned her head to see a group of seven men, all clad in black armor, began to approach them. "Who the hell are you?"

The leading man raised his gas mask, revealing his face. "My name is Tomilin, I'm a Ranger of the Spartan Order. Young man, I have a question."

"What would that be?" The stalker wondered.

"Almost all the Rangers know one-another. When I heard there was a Ranger in Venice, I found it odd. After all, none of my superiors nor did any of my friends tell me there was anybody deployed here. So tell me, imposter, why are you wearing our armor."

Artyom froze in his tracks. The Polis Rangers had found him. "What is going to happen?"

"Simple, you are coming with us and we're going to have one hell of a talk behind bars in Polis." Then he walked forward to meet with him face-to-face. "There is one thing worth noting. Where did you get the armor?"

"It's a long story, but Hunter gave it to me." He reached down into his pocket and pulled out the Ranger's token. "He gave his tag to me before he left to go fight the Dark Ones. His armor was his last goodbye."

"You know about Hunter?" Tomilin wondered. "How can it be? He was last seen in Exhibition. How do you know him?"

"My name is Artyom Alekseyevich Chyornyj. My stepfather was the station commander of Exhibition and Hunter was my friend, a very good friend."

"You're from Exhibition and you knew where he died?!"

"Yes."

"Ladna, you come with me. You are going to explain in Polis."

Artyom glanced over at Cass. "Can she come?"

"Why? She doesn't look important."

"She is just as important as I am if you want to learn more about this story."

Author's Note: With finals over, I can relax and have the time to complete a chapter.

Someguy the anon: As someone likes eating fish, you're weird to want to eat the mutated part of the animal.

Paladin Bailey: Well, that chapter was left in an uncomfortable spot given that it could have been executed better. As much as positive reviews sound nice, critical reviews are vastly superior even if they appear negative. To me, they might have some insight without being blinded by error.