News of a White Legs war party was enough to stir tension and in the Sorrows camp. Once Artyom had given the news, he immediately turned it to those who knew what to do with this information. Joshua's and Daniel's silence did not comfort him before Joshua made a request to leave. After he left the cave, he could hear the two leaders arguing what to do.

On his way out, he found Stella walking up to him with her laser rifle in hand. "Jed saw you running to meet Joshua and the entire camp is up and about. Is there anything you can tell us?" She asked. "He really wants to get out of Zion as soon as possible. "I tried asking Waking Cloud about any fresh news, but she won't talk."

The Russian lifted the armored visor over his eyes. "The White Legs have a war party in Zion."

"Shit, the longer we wait here the less likely I'm about to get paid." With the news handed out, the caravan guard was quick to leave him be.

In the meantime, Artyom made his way deep into the camp just to find Cass concocting a strange liquid into the bottles. He surprised her when he sat on a log beside her. "What are you doing?" It was an innocent question, but he knew that there was more to the caravaneer than the naked eye.

She stole a quick glance from him and expressed a warm smile. "Moonshine." She answered. "Jed is not taking it too well and I don't blame him. Seeing as I used to be in charge of an entire caravan before it was a killed by neighborhood raiders, I was always worried about the expenses and my company's our odds of a likely payday. Now that I'm traveling with you, I don't have to worry about none of that shit."

"That is quite an interesting view." He answered. "Never thought you had an economical mind. You could have done well with Hansa if I hadn't gotten on their bad side."

Cass expressed a smile. "Do you really think so? I doubt they would let a woman in, especially if she has the potential of becoming a defenseless girl because of raiders."

"The thing is, Hansa does their best to earn its reputation of clearing out threats to their trading circle to get their payday. Plus, they supply the rest of the Metro with their goods. I heard from several merchants that it is expensive Hansa trading permits, but worth the investment." His stomach growled at him. "Are you hungry? I've got some Cram in my backpack."

"You're quite a gentleman to offer a woman her meal. Yes, I'll have some. It might go well with my drinks." She answered.

"Most of these cans came from the Sierra Madre when I was looking for you." He replied as he slipped off his backpack and revealed his contents towards the caravaneer. "Might as well get rid of them while I still can."

After she opened her can of cram, the caravaneer brought out a metal spoon in her hand. "Pre-war food. My dad told me that in the pre-war days food was preserved to a point that they couldn't spoil. Kinda made me wish we didn't bomb our world to hell." Cass commented.

"What a beautiful worlds we've destroyed." Then he reached out for a bottle of moonshine. "At least you still get fresh air." After he pulled the cork out, he reluctantly took a sip of the mysterious drink made by his friend. Unlike the moonshine he had tasted after he arrived in Riga, it's contents were far more stronger than he imagine. He swallowed the alcohol to feel the burning sensation throughout his lungs as he groaned at the painful feeling. "This stuff is strong. What did you put in here?"

"Enough."

"Enough?" Artyom wondered. "It feels like it's enough to kill me."

She laughed at his reaction as she opened her bottle. "Then you need to have mutation that lets you down an entire bottle. I'm not going to be with a man who can't hold his drink."

"Yet, here you are."

"Shut up." Then Cass began to raise her head before she started to consume her drink. The levels of volume slowly flowing into her body. However, the stalker noticed the warm hue of red on her cheeks. After she finished the bottle, the woman gasped for air while she swiped the remains off her lips. "That's some good stuff."

"You look pretty when you drink." He commented.

Her gaze fell upon him with a smile. "If it had been anybody else, I you would be eating my fist down your throat."

Before he had the chance to talk, his radio sprang to life with Tomilin's voice crying out. "Anybody out there, we need assistance right now. White Legs are making their way towards our positions at the top of the island. Fuckers are pushing forward!"

Then he glanced at his friend before he immediately reached for his makeshift pneumatic weapon. "I have to go."

The caravaneer tried to get up, but stumbled back into the ground as she shook her head. "Let me come with you. I don't want to get killed all by yourself."

"You just drank an entire bottle of moonshine." Artyom replied. "You're not exactly capable of moving about."

The woman gave him a soft punch. "Unlike you, it takes more than a simple bottle of moonshine to kick my ass."

He rolled his eyes as he helped Cass up from the ground and made his way towards the exit.

Joshua was irritated by his friend's staunch stance against the Sorrows Tribe's chance at fighting the White Legs. "Daniel, they need to fight." He began as he gripped his hands. "Zion is their home."

Yet, the missionary across the fire pit had retained his firm belief the last time they spoke. "We don't need to fight. The Sorrows do not deserve to be caught up in our war against the White Legs. How much bloodshed are you willing to spill for your desire of vengeance?"

The leader of the Dead Horses raised his eyebrows at Daniel's jab at his past. It was something he never truly wanted to speak of, but time was of the essence. He needed to convince his friend that this was beyond simple revenge. There was both a spiritual - and recently - a practical reason for them to stay and fight. "They have to fight. This place, it is their home, but more than that. Zion is their birthright."

Daniel was expressed a confused face with his eyes raised. "Birthright? Joshua, what are you even talking about? This is oddly strange of you to speak of."

"As much as I want vengeance against the White Legs, Artyom has revealed to me that the Sorrows have more reason to fight for this place than any of us. He has explored the places that the tribe considers a taboo; however, his discoveries have revealed that the 'Father of the Caves' is real and he desired Zion to be their home." The Malpais Legate explained in great detail. It might have appeared to be too much for his friend to take in, but time was of the essence. The more they spent their time arguing, the more likely the White Legs would initiate an attack on Dead Horses and by extension - the Sorrows.

"What you're telling me is that one of those travelers took the chance to explore those caves?" He asked. "You and I both know that the Sorrows are superstitious when it comes to exploring them. Where is the evidence of their birthright? Is it so important that they must sacrifice their innocence just to protect what is theirs?"

Joshua grit his teeth behind his bandages. Daniel was still firm in his belief that the Sorrows could leave and live another day. However, the past of the White Legs driving the New Canaanites into extinction became his reminder. "Yes. Even if you safely bring the Sorrows out of Zion, what will you think the White Legs will do? They will desecrate it with their barbaric ways and will move on to the next place they want. You and I both know that they can only sustain on the suffering of others, let us break them here. It is crucial that those… animals learn the wrath of God."

"You're doing it again." Daniel commented when he crossed his arms. "You are justifying blood in God's name just to sate your own desires. Look at yourself, we don't have to let another tribe die on our hands, we can't. No more bloodshed."

"The White Legs will continue killing us until there is none left." Joshua replied. "Caesar intends to let them into the Legion as soon as they kill all of us and the last traces of the tribes we have worked with. Blood was already spilt as soon as I became a reminder of his failures."

Footsteps entered the small war chamber as the war chief of the Dead Horses noticed a bald woman approach the missionary with a hateful gaze in her eyes. "You lied to me!" She shouted to the top of her lungs before she struck him with the palm of her hand. As Daniel rubbed the pain away, he stood up and confronted the woman. "You kept the news of my husband's death away from me. Why?" Tears began to flow from her eyes. "Why?!"

Then Daniel took off his hat and lowered his head in shame. "Waking Cloud, I needed you to help organize the tribe to leave Zion in case the White Legs force us. Telling you about your husband's death would affect your judgeme-"

She interrupted him with her cries. "What right did you have to keep him away from me?! That matter was none of your concern. You may be a friend of the Sorrows, but I trusted you of all foreigners to tell me the truth."

"I did it for the good of your people?"

"Yet, you've betrayed me." After Waking Cloud had finished her words of fury on the missionary, she ran off and out of the war room chambers with Daniel looking down at the fire in shame.

A great sigh escaped from him as he closed his eyes, but Joshua grew concerned about his situation with the Sorrows. "Are you alright?" The Burned Man questioned.

He shook his head with a sorrowful tone. "I did it for the good of her people."

"Indeed, I am certain that you have the intent to do good on the Sorrows behalf. It is one of many things God wants us to do in life." He stated.

"Do you have any advice on how to help me console Waking Cloud?" Daniel wondered.

A small chuckle escaped from behind his layers of bandages. "You know me. My expertise is in the matters of war."

"Indeed it is." He replied. "I am going to be moving the Sorrows soon. Could the Dead Horses clear the way at the very least? I think fighting for Zion has taken away one too many people."

"Are you sure?" The Burned Man asked. "This is not an easy decision."

"Thanks to the help of the Russians, we've been able to solve several of the problems along the way. They were quite handy in going into the caves to deal with the Yao Guai. I'm also sure that the trader south of here is itching to get out. At the very least, he'll be content to leave this place behind." Daniel explained his reasoning in great detail. "Yes, I've thought about this decision and I intend to go through with it."

Joshua nodded his head as he placed his grip on the missionary's shoulder. "Old friend, I'll do what I can. Follows-Chalk will lead a group of scouts and do his best to make the road safe. I do pray that somehow, you've made the right decision."

A smile was all he could offer. "To protect the Sorrows, I will."

The island surrounded in the center of Zion was now filled with more patrols of Dead Horsemen and White Legs killing each other in droves. Artyom and Cass continued bypass most of the fighting as they made their way towards one of the ranger stations planted on the hill. The stalker drew his assault rifle and continued to press up the hill to see the bodies of White Legs lying in droves. The carnage of the fighting had intensified with even the corpses of the wildlife nearby. He continued to press forward and managed to trudge through the bodies, but he saw one of the Polis Rangers at the summit. "Tomilin called me and I came here as quick as possible." Artyom began.

The Polis Ranger pointed his finger towards the top of the tower. "Tomilin is up there. You should have seen what had happened earlier. The savages were coming in droves. We were lucky enough that the fuckers broke off the attack when the Dead Horses came."

"Spasibo, I hope we can solve that problem." The stalker replied as he walked past the Ranger while he was accompanied by the caravaneer. He looked around and began to notice the tired soldiers on guard or even resting their backs against the stone walls. After moving up the stairs, Artyom found the soldier looking out the windows with his binoculars. "Tomilin? You called?"

His attention was not changed when he spoke. "Da, come here."

He stepped forward to be given the binoculars before the Polis Ranger pointed the general direction of what he was looking at. Upon closer inspection, the young man found himself busy trying to locate the enemy, but it was easy to locate small groups of White Legs taking a drink of the river's water. "That's the enemy." He said at the obvious sight.

"It's also where the rest of the White Leg vanguard have retreated after the Dead Horses helped us out." The Ranger replied.

Then Cass spoke up. "So at this point, it's also where they set up an encampment since you pushed them back."

"On point, but one of the Dead Horses explained to me that the White Legs usually prepare themselves for battle by dancing around these war totems. If we had destroyed them, it might ruin whatever potential attacks on our location." Then he glanced below to see his fellow Rangers resting. "However, they're all worn out. Artyom, this is not something I don't think anybody would be willing to do, but could you destroy those totems. It would make our lives far more easier."

"You're asking him to go on a suicide mission? What the hell is wrong with you?" The caravaneer demanded.

"If Hunter trusts Artyom with his equipment then I can at least trust him with a task." Tomilin answered before returning his full attention on the young man. "Look, just destroy them and run back to us. Avoid trying to fight the bastards."

Artyom nodded his head as he accepted the task. "I'll do it, but I'll wait till its night time."

The Ranger became confused. "Why?"

He reached for an item in his knapsack. "Night vision goggles. I have one and they don't. Makes everything easy if I'm lurking around in the night." Then he glanced towards his companion. "However, you'll have to stay."

Cass crossed her arms. "Stay, why should I?"

"It's quite hard to sneak around when somebody smells of alcohol." The Russian answered.

"Why you hurt me like this?" She wondered. "Fine, I'll be staying right here, but you better come back to me when you're done."

When darkness came, Artyom fully embraced it when he adorned the night vision goggles. Due to its advanced technology compared to his torchlight, he had to keep an eye on the battery life and focus on charging it when the surrounding area isn't infested with enemies. As he crept through the wild land of Zion, the Russian approached a small ridge overlooking the entire area. The position gave him the full view of what was below.

On his right, there was a camp full of White Legs, most of whom were sleeping comfortably on their makeshift beds. His gaze looked closer and began to notice most of their 'valuables' consisted worthless junk that they brought with them. Worst of all, he could smell their stench as they spoke in their strange tongue. While he could avoid their lack of hygiene with his gas mask, his breathing would reveal his position even with the shadows on his side. There was a thought of killing them from this point, but Artyom fought against the idea as he came for his true objective.

The stalker turned his watchful eye towards his left, only to see the war totems further away from the camp. As to why their people did this, he would never ask. Thankfully, there was only one White Leg on guard as he crossed his arms with his strange sword-like weapon in hand made out of junk. It was good that he was alone guarding the war totems. What made the situation even better was the simple fact that they were not wearing any proper body armor on their person.

Artyom backtracked from the high point as he snuck his way between the camp and their war totems. His assault rifle needed a rest while the young man drew his makeshift silenced weapon - the Tihar off of his back. He had some experience using this weapon before, but knew that it required patience to use. This weapon could never have the firepower of the assault rifle; however, the silence was where the true strength lied. His arm started pumping air while he watched the pressure measurements increasing with each pull of the lever.

By the time the red indicator had reached its maximum limit, the young man quietly approached the lonely sentry as he lined up his sights. When his weapon matched with the target's head, he pulled the trigger and heard a quick puff of air escape before the White Leg guard slumped to the ground. As blood soaked the dirt, Artyom was quick to drag all of the war totems in one spot with his sticky grenades implanted into the weak signposts and imagery the savages used to build their morale support.

He pulled out his bullet lighter and was about to light off the fuses, but then he heard footsteps approaching the war totems. The foreign tongue of the curious White Leg had made him stop in his tracks while he looked past the objectives to see a woman look around. A woman was walking away from the camp, but she seemed to be calling out a name. Was it the guard he just killed? For some strange reason, he felt a pang of guilt in his heart. Perhaps he could have knocked him out when Artyom had the chance, but what was done is done. All he had to to do was wait as the woman stepped closer.

The young man realized what he had forgotten to do. The man's body was still there. When her foot smacked into his body, she was quick to shout to the others. "Chyort." He quietly whispered to himself as he sparked the small flame from his lighter and ignited the fuses. After putting it away, he ran for his life. There was a loud commotion that came after him while sprinted towards his only safety, the river. Gunfire chased him while he occasionally looked over his shoulder to see the alerted White Legs double.

An explosion erupted from the totems, killing those in their path, but it was not enough to stop them.

Artyom ran towards the end of a broken dock and dived deep into the river. While he began to hold his breath and sweep away from the enemy, his ears could hear their bullets penetrate the water. Despite all of their effort, the young man continued to swim away in the deep end and reach the shores of the small island in the center of the Zion. Another matter swiftly dealt with.

In the days after the destruction of the war totems, the White Legs were demoralized. Which gave the Dead Horses the opportunity to strike. Enemy patrols would be found dead by the time their reinforcements discovered their remains and the head planted on a pike. The killing was almost endless in sight, but that did not mean the White Legs were weak. No, they intended on something far more sinister.

From the surviving prisoners, the White Legs desired to regain the initiative by drawing the Dead Horses and by extension - Joshua Graham out. In the wake of the ambush, there was a massacre, but it was not the Dead Horses who became casualties of war. Instead, it was the Daniel, the Sorrows tribe, and the surviving members of the caravan. In their attempt to leave Zion, Daniel was wounded while the Sorrows tribe were caught in a conflict that was no longer theirs. No mercy was given to those who caught in the trap. The caravan led by Jed Masterson, were the first to die alongside the Sorrows.

All was not lost as the Dead Horses, the Polis Rangers, and Artyom were quick to come to their aid - saving the tribe from complete destruction. Daniel's insistence on trying to keep the Sorrows out of the tribe was met with quick hostilities by the people he wanted to save. That moment had passed after the slaughter, when the Sorrows demanded blood against their aggressors. The missionary did his best to avoid more bloodshed, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Yet, the Sorrows were not the only ones who had suffered. Four out of the seven Polis Rangers were killed in action as they tried their best to protect the tribals. The war became personal for Tomilin and the last surviving men before they buried the fallen six feet under. This motivation to kill the White Legs had given Joshua Graham enough war support to go on the offensive.

Wrath and fury had filled Zion into this unhealthy atmosphere for the human mind. While the Dead Horses descended onto the White Legs, Artyom and Cass found themselves going into battle with Joshua Graham, the Malpais Legate of the Legion. They entered the narrow canyon as Joshua drew out his pistol from his holster as he walked into the valley of death. "The Dead Horses and the Sorrows have advanced ahead of us, but remain cautious." The leader of one of the savage tribes advised. "We might have stragglers who have hid from God's will."

Cass loaded up her four-barrelled shotgun and stepped forward. "You seem to invoke God in a lot of your sayings."

"I know those monsters." He replied. "The White Legs are a tribe that knows only war and have desecrated god's holy ground - my home. It is time they faced Canaanite wrath."

"Ah, so this is personal?"

"Yes."

Artyom looked to his right to see an empty camp while the Dead Horses brought out their prisoners and executed them. Whether it be by the bullets from their guns or the weight of their blunt weapons, they died in cold blood. The deeper the young man continued into the the canyon, the more gunfire he heard and the wailing of the surrendering White Legs.

The trio walked past an archway, only to knocked forth by the the explosion behind them. The young Russian looked behind to see Cass floating in the water. However, he saw a boulder slowing descend upon her. He was quick to reach out for her collar and drag her away from where it was landing. When it landed, water splashed into his face as he heard gunfire from the front.

Joshua Graham was quick to reply with his sidearm. "It's a trap, get into the battle."

Artyom swiped the water from his face while Cass brought her Duplet and fired upon the dozens of White Leg soldiers charging from a single cave. At the same time, Joshua strode forth with his pistol out while he began speaking verses. With the fighting starting, he brought out his assault rifle and pulled down the trigger.

Due to the lack of armor, the White Legs were easily cut down in droves. Those that charged with claws and makeshift swords did not last. However, three White Legs did run out of the cave, but Artyom could see their faces. There was something terrifying that drove them at as they spoke their foreign language.

Out from the caves came a lone figure in his trench coat. This appearance of somebody who should have stayed dead had surprised the stalker as he raised his rifle and opened up on the surrendering savages. When the deed was done, the green eyes of his mask turned towards them and gave them a quick salute before he walked back into the shadows. "Randall, what are you doing here?"

"Who?" Joshua asked while he emptied out his magazine for a new one.

"Randall Clark, he's the father of the caves… and we just watched him kill those three White Legs. He should be dead."

The leader of the Dead Horses looked back at the cave and remained silent. "Even the restless spirits are offended by the presence of the White Legs. Let's continue, perhaps his spirit will help us when we need it the most."

Then the caravaneer spoke out the situation. "The best thing we should do is go forward. I have a feeling that cave is clear if the White Legs were running from a ghost."

The trio were quick to enter the cave while Artyom lowered his helmet's visor and waited for the worse the cave could offer. As Artyom and Cass turned on their flashlights in the darkness, the only sight they found were more bodies of the White Legs littered across the floor. The stalker reached down to grab one of the bullet casings, only to see the numbers twelve-point-seven millimeters written on the side of the bullets. There was one weapon he salvaged from the caves, a rifle that used the exact kind of ammunition.

After a long trek through the caves full of fallen White Legs, Joshua led the group out into the sunlight, only to witness a battle unfold below them. Many from the Sorrows and the Dead Horses were being led by the Polis Rangers as they fought up a hill occupied by the savages. However, they looked below to see the White Legs were exactly underneath their position. "Let's provide support for our allies below." He suggested as he slung his sub-machine gun off of his back. Cass was quick to switch out her shotgun for her automatic rifle Artyom had given her before.

A moment of silence came with Artyom looking through his weapon's sights, before he pulled the trigger. One of the savages was struck down, but the others were quick to notice their position. Soon after, Joshua and Cass unleashed their firepower upon the exposed White Legs, giving the Dead Horses and the Sorrows enough time to push forward. As they reached the camp, close-quarters fighting erupted as the Dead Horses brought down their war clubs before the White Legs replied with poisonous claws.

When the two sides clashed into each other, Joshua was the first to make his way down the cliffside. "Follow me, we must find the war chief of the White Legs."

"Why?" Artyom asked.

"The fighting will end with him."

The battle was over when the trio had arrived at the camp of the White Legs. Their leader was brought forth in humiliation while the survivors of his tribe watched closely. The Dead Horses and the Sorrows cheered in excitement as they celebrated their victory in the face of the White Legs. The two Dead Horses who locked his hands behind his back had brought him before the war chief of their tribe - Joshua Graham. Underneath his face mask, he looked up and began to plead for mercy. "You no kill, White Leg leave you alone!"

The Russians and the caravaneer watched from the sidelines as Tomilin injected morphine into his system. "Finally, we can leave without these bastards in the way." Out from his pockets came a pack of cigarettes. "Anybody want some?" The two other Rangers beside him were quick to light their tips and enjoy what seemed to be a victory.

Artyom declined the offer when Tomilin's pack came around to him. It didn't feel like victory. What was supposed to be a moment of triumph felt like an ugly matter that could be compared to the cigarette smoke in the air. Everything about this moment felt wrong, but the young man watched as Joshua approached him. "We warned you when we first met. Your tribe took advantage of us at New Canaan and now you've dared to attack the Sorrows and most importantly - my friend. Your transgressions has gone long enough. I will see to it that you will pay for all of those you have killed. What say you - Salt-Upon-Wounds?" The Burned Man asked as he leaned forward to meet his foe face-to-face.

The leader of the White Legs struggled out of his bonds and tried to scoot away from him. Yet, his captors were not unwilling to let him leave out of Joshua's grasp. Many cheered at Salt-Upon-Wounds' coming fate while Cass expressed her opinion upon the matter. "Come on, just shoot the bastard."

There was an uneasiness for the stalker as he waited for the execution; however, the voices of the Dark Ones had come. This time, the creatures brought him the conviction he needed to accept what was going on. 'Spare him…' They said. 'No longer a threat… He will face consequences… Later…'

When Joshua pulled out his sidearm, he began to load it in front of his would-be victim. "You will pay for what they did to him." Yet, this moment allowed an opportunity for the stalker to walk out from the sidelines and into attention of the crowd.

Behind Artyom's back, he could hear Cass call out to him, but he would have to ignore her for a moment. As his boots crunched against the dirt, Joshua paused reloading his weapon as he straightened himself to find the Russian walking in his general direction. He was going in blind and with a large chance to embarrass himself in front of dozens of people. It might have been acceptable in Exhibition, but he was no longer in the Metro. A moment of silence was present while the young man quickly grabbed any words that could make a coherent sentence on the spot. "Do not kill him." Artyom stated.

Even though the Burned Man's head was wrapped in bandages, his eyebrows were raised while the eyes contained a wrathful rage within him. "What?" He asked stonely. "Why should I spare this thing… this animal? Mercy does not belong with his kind, only death will absolve him of his crimes and that requires me to send him to God." Joshua stated while pointing his pistol at Salt-Upon-Wounds head.

"Look around you." The Russian said as he gestured around the camp. "The White Legs are defeated, what more do you want out of them?"

"Vengeance." Unlike Artyom's previous encounter with the Malpais Legate, he was far more bloodthirsty than before. "He killed my family. He almost killed Daniel and has killed members of the Sorrows."

"Is it God's wrath or are you just using that excuse to kill him?" He asked.

Behind his back, he could hear Tomilin intervene on their conversation. "That's enough. Let the man-"

Joshua raised his hand to stop the Polis Ranger mid-sentence. "No, do not break up this conversation of ours." Then he took one long step to confront the stalker. "This is a dog of the Legion. He will not stop until he satisfies Caesar with our destruction."

Memories of Artyom's first encounter with Joshua Graham had came into mind. He was a result of something that Caesar could not abide as he chose his next words carefully. "Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's."

The Burned Man raised his eyes. "I do not understand what you are implying."

"What did Caesar do to you when you failed him at the First Battle of Hoover Dam?" Came his question.

The rage in his voice had faded back into his reserved tone. "Edward… he punished me. Are you suggesting that you send this creature back to him with this defeat?"

He nodded his head. "Let this… man," Artyom truly did not desire to use that word on someone like him. "become Caesar's problem and let God sort him out afterwards. From what I've seen, he doesn't appear to have the will such as yours."

Joshua stole a glance from Salt-Upon-Wounds before he reluctantly holstered his weapon. "Very well then, release him." Several of the Dead Horses became confused before they slowly released the savage out of his bonds. "Your cry for mercy has been accepted. Now leave Zion and never return. If your mind cannot comprehend such a request then I will be the first to remind you without question."

Although his helmet was in the way, Salt-Upon-Wounds' wimpers were enough to express his fear. The barbarian was quick to leave the crowd that surrounded him while those of his tribe were given a moment of mercy from their captors. The defeated foes lowered their heads in shame, grabbing only their melee weapons while their technologically superior ones were left behind. Artyom and Joshua watched as their twisted hairs left the camp with little gain from this endeavor into the 'Land of God'.

"Artyom, even though your request denied me what I desired the most, it is a welcomed one. Perhaps God himself will be the one to strike down on his kind instead of myself. After all, the Lord works in mysterious ways." Then he turned his full attention on young man. "When did you learn scripture?"

The young man smiled at the question. "A long time ago, there was once priest in Exhibition. My step-father wanted me to learn from the Bible, but he always took it with him everywhere he went. The last time I saw him was when he fought alongside the Marines when my station was attacked. He was never seen again. Out of all of things I can remember from the pages, it was that one."

"I see." He paused for a moment as he placed his hands on his belt. "With the threat of the White Legs now over with, I believe you and your companions deserve the reward of our guides. Come, we have work to do."

When slumber came, the dream state had returned as Artyom sat up from his seat to find Randall Clark looking down on him. "Thanks for helping out those people. I appreciate what you did there."

The stalker wiped his face and stared at the ghostly figure with one question in mind. "How did you help us out during the battle? You should be dead."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "I'm a ghost, remember? I think when I saw the descendants of those kids being killed by the damn barbarians, my anger was enough to bring me back to reality. That's my only explanation, but I don't think it will matter much now that you're going to New Vegas."

"What will you do?" Artyom wondered with full curiosity.

"Do what I do best, keep an eye out on my kids." Then he fell to one knee and knelt beside him. "Though your dark-skinned mutant family came by to show me something. It isn't pretty, but I know one thing for sure when you get down south."

"What is it?"

"Watch your six in New Vegas. Everyone has a gun behind their back. I hope you checked your vigor tester, you're going to need it."

Author's Note: Now that Honest Hearts is now over with, I can finally bring the protagonist back to the Mojave.