A week had passed since the group's arrival at Camp Golf. It wouldn't have taken Artyom this long to get this place, but Angelique suspected that something went wrong during his journey. Then the deployment of securitrons beyond the Strip's walls was decreprency she could not ignore. After an NCR soldier came back to work, the news he brought was enough for Cass to worry when they mentioned the securitrons hunting down a Russian who betrayed House. In hopes of finding him, the courier departed to find him while the others remained in the NCR camp.

Cass brought out her whiskey and prayed that her… love was alive. After she unscrewed the cork, the caravaneer immediately drank it down just to prepare herself for the worst just in case. The woman sat alone in her tent sitting at a desk - thinking about the possibility of losing him to House. Then she heard the flaps open, causing her to look over her shoulder just to find Artyom's stepfather in the company of several men. "Sukhoi, do you need something?"

He nodded his head. "Yes." Then he stole a glance from two men in high-grade armor. "Rumor has it that you run a caravan, is that true?" The old man questioned.

"Why do you ask?" She wondered while turning her chair over to meet them.

Sukhoi turned towards the men. "Most of the Metro Coalition relies on rail lines for logistics, but here in the Mojave we don't have that luxury."

"So you're coming up to me, because I am in charge of a caravan. Are you sure you want me to help you out? There is other companies worth choosing." She explained. "The Crimson Caravan should be able to fix your issues."

"That's the thing. The Hanseatic League doesn't trust them and views them as potential competition. With you in Camp Golf, my trading partners are giving you an opportunity to make some earnings alongside their people. The men beside me are representatives of Hansa."

"I hate to break the news to you, but my caravan company exists in name only. All of my brahmins are killed and I have a hefty reputation of losing employees to raids."

One of the masked men stepped forward with his hands resting on his light machine gun. "While my superiors are concerned about your history of losses, they're willing to take the risk on you. Hansa is offering you a position of fixing our logistics. In return, we will give you free merchant membership into the league… and extend our protection to your caravans."

Cass was dumbfounded by the offer he made. After all of this time in the Mojave, there was a big break for her. The family name no longer had to worry about being tarnished by bad events that were being orchestrated against her company. Like all deals, there was always a catch. "The offer sounds nice, but what do I need to do in return." It sounded too good to be true.

"Like I said earlier, fixing our logistics." The stranger replied. "However, Hansa also does want your help trying to find a decent exchange rate between five-point-four-five military grade ammunition and these bottlecaps. If you can help us with our exchange rate, we would be grateful for your effort."

It was at this moment, the Rose of Sharon Cassidy had found herself smiling at the future. Things were changing in her favor and this time her name had a chance to rise from the sands. The woman found herself standing up from her chair as she reached out with her hand. "You have a deal."

The memories that Artyom learned from Marcus was something else entirely. His mother was not some simple woman who lived in the pre-war era of Russia. She was just like him, someone who was sent away from their home out of necessity. Unlike what had occurred with Exhibition, he could only feel anger for the man who sent her out and forced her banishment along with the others. The young man could have lived in a place where he didn't have to worry about his life in the apocalypse. It just felt wrong that his mother didn't return to her home.

Relevance between his mother and the super mutant had begun when the stalker found a memory of his mother approaching the house of the super mutant. She knocked on the creature's door three times before it opened and the tall creature towered over her. "Hello stranger. I take you're not from around these parts. I would have recognized your face by now."

She smiled at him with a small nod before her expression disappeared. "May I come in? This conversation needs to be in private"

The muscular creature nodded his head. "Come in, I'll talk with you."

Upon entering the small house, Marcus led her to a table where they both sat across from one-another. Yet, his eyes seemed to notice the famous uniform that was worn by vault dwellers. Only that this one was worn down in some places.

"You're from Vault 13." He said. "I didn't expect a vault dweller come into my home at this hour."

Artyom observed the memory, only to see a warm smile as if she recalled a fond memory. "Vault 13, I have not been there for a very long time."

"So, what is so important?"

"Marcus, I know you used to be part of a super mutant army better known as the Unity. Is that correct?" The woman asked.

His facial expression changed from a welcoming one into a somber one. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Long ago, my friends and I had defeated the Master underneath the Cathedral. After we were banished for being heroes, we went our separate ways."

"You said that you defeated the Master. Who are you?"

"Natalia Dubrovhsky." She answered. "I know digging up memories of the Unity might make you uncomfortable, but since you have peacefully made super mutants a… tolerable race around these parts I need to ask you something."

"What would that be?"

Natalia looked down at the table and let out a sigh. "I have taken refuge in a different world, it's similar to ours, but not the same. The people I'm working with, they've found pieces of the Master and taken samples of him. He is slowly recovering from the loss of FEV biomass he developed back at the Cathedral and the people I'm working with are making soldiers based on some of the information he's giving them. The Master is trying to develop another army - one to surpass your kind." She explained. "Would you try to convince your kin to come together and help me stop him when the time comes?"

With that said, the memory faded away before Marcus spoke his mind. "I remember. This was before my travels with a particular tribal, but she came to me for help against the leader I once served."

Artyom turned his head towards the super mutant. "What did you say?"

"Yes." He answered. "The Master believed that my kin and I were the future of the wasteland, but his mistake costed him everything. In some sense, he realized how much that didn't sit well with the other wastelanders - especially with your mother. If he is still alive, then he needs to be eliminated. There are some who still wish to… carry on his dream, but his intelligence can change the wasteland for the worst." Then he shifted his body towards the young man within this realm of minds. "Seeing as you are her son, do you know what happened to her?"

Silence was all he could offer. Her death had haunted him for his entire life and having to recall such a moment a long time ago was difficult to bear with. However, he understood that Marcus needed to know the answer. "My mother is dead. In my world, she died shortly after the bombs fell."

"I… I am sorry." Based on the somber tone in his voice, Artyom could tell that he was sincere. A rare feeling to find in a wasteland such as his.

The Dark One placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Artyom… Marcus… the Master created us… he wants us to destroy humanity… once more now that he knows we can… reproduce…'

"So what do you want us to do?" Marcus wondered. "It's not like any of us has an army that can find and stop him."

'Means are… elsewhere… First… destroy the Legion… we will find him…'

It was at this point, the two individuals who were invited into a psychic connection with the Dark One had found themselves awakened into reality. This time, Artyom found Arcade Gannon and the other doctors standing over them. "Finally, you two are awake. Honestly, I didn't think either of you would wake up." Then he pushed his glasses up.

"Sorry about that." The Russian apologized. "Psychic powers tend to do that."

"I would honestly be shocked, but I'm tired trying to help the poor cyberdog with his brain." The doctor explained. "Artyom, there is somebody who has been helping me out for the past few days. He also says he knows you."

"Another human?" Marcus asked. "It's odd that we're getting this much visitors."

"Apparently, he knows about this Russian guy more than we do. Said he met in the Moscow Metro."

The young man shrugged his shoulders. "I know a lot of people in the Metro. Does he have a name?"

An old man entered the room with his bag in one hand. Yet, the red bandana and his Mongolian-like facial hair was not difficult to ignore. "Hello young man. It has been a long time since we last met."

To say that he was surprised was an understatement. "Khan, how did you know I was here?"

"Let's just say that in another life, I was good at tracking things down." Then he walked over to Artyom's bedside and handed him the familiar dirty backpack with the empty Kalashnikov sticking out from the inside. "New Vegas had made me curious, but I accidentally stumbled upon your things."

"Thanks. You have no idea how much you saved my life and time."

"No problem." He answered. "Just try not to waste this chance, they are very rare to have in such moments." Just as he came in - the mysterious stranger he had met in the Metro - left the Russian in his room.

When Arcade was alone, he glanced back at him. "Lucky you. None of your belongings didn't get stolen."

Marcus slipped out a chuckled. "If we had a vigor tester, your luck would have to be on the high end of the spectrum."

The doctor scoffed at his comment. "Vigor testors, they're a load of nonsense I say. No machine can determine whether you'll have a lucky life or not."

Artyom reached into his back and searched for anything worth replacing his kevlar. With the armor worn out, the least he could do was try to wear anything that had armor. Out from his backpack came a memory of Zion Valley. The clothes and armor had belonged to another, but it was a long time ago. As he inspected the armor, he noticed a note in one of the pockets. Upon pulling it out, came a small note that was written by Randall Clark. He was just trying to send his final message about being useful to anybody who did find it. Pity that none of the people he protected had come for it… except him. "Doctor, how long do you think I need to recover until I can travel again?"

"Well, you and Marcus did spend a couple days in that coma of yours." He replied. "So you would be safe to travel again; however, do you really want to travel around when there are securitrons looking for you."

"Yes, I got a meeting with some people at Camp Golf. It's important."

"If it's that important then go ahead, but I recommend that you avoid getting yourself in a near death situation. There is so much your body can take." The explained.

"It's okay, I have already wasted enough time sleeping around."

Caesar sat in his seat, thinking about the future plans for his Legion. The Russians had changed the playing field for the Mojave. It became clear that their efforts with the New California Republic had only strengthened their hold over Hoover Dam. He had hoped that the Fiends would make their logistics difficult, but he underestimated their rapid redeployment after their destruction. The Legion's only hold across the Colorado River was the captured NCR outpost and the raiding slave camps south of them. While they were out of reach and mind of the republic, he considered the possibility of the proactivity of the NCR allies.

Two of his useful assets had entered his presence after they had opened the flaps. He could see Legate Lanius' disdain for Vulpes Inculta. Despite his views of subterfuge and infiltration, Vulpes was needed to undermine the efforts of the NCR. "Great Caesar, I bring ill news from the war." Spoke his agent of unconventional warfare. "Our forces at Nelson have fallen."

Lanius turned his head towards him - his mask hiding away his growl. "You dabble too much in cowardice that our foe has won this minor skirmish." He stated. Then he looked at his leader with his head down low. "My lord, give me a detachment and allow me to personally kill your enemies in your name."

"No." Caesar answered. "Lanius, you are my best warrior and commander. Your skills are best used to deliver the decisive blow against the NCR when the time comes. While your presence would instill fear into the ranks of the profligates, it would only alert them for our plans at Hoover Dam. We still retain the advantage of the initial strike." The leader of the Legion glanced at Vulpes. "Vulpes, I had expected much from your agents. Why did they not report their plans?"

Vulpes Inculta looked up at him. "The NCR have been purging our agents in their ranks. They are well-aware of what goes on in their midst. Now taking any action and receiving intelligence is limited due to their assistance from the foreigners. Ever since their arrival, it appears they are experts in counterintelligence."

"I see. This must be the first real obstacle you have faced in a very long time. Although your report is lacking, the enemy has also revealed one of their strengths. Which means you must find other ways to undermine their efforts. See to it that you encourage the dissolute who are discontent with the profligates. We still retain some influence within the strip."

"Yes, my lord. Your will shall be done."

The infamous killer of Arizona had spoken. "Great Caesar, when will we continue our war with the enemy? Mars demands blood."

"Indeed it does, but Mars also values patience in warfare. There is a dissolute - one who knows enough secrets to destroy the enemy. After he renders to me a great service, we will begin our offensive and New Vegas will submit." He explained. "Until this dissolute arrives, ensure the troops continue their preparations as our forces are inspired by the priestesses of Mars."

"As you command."

"Good, both of you are dismissed. Return to your stations." After the commanders left their leader and his praetorians, Caesar felt a strange feeling inside his head. He covered his forehead to ease the symptoms, but it had only worsened compared to the earlier weeks.

He had miscalculated the Russians. These people - the people of the Third Rome - had found a way to setback his intentions whether it be by intelligence or on the battlefield. There should have been more reconnaissance in the tunnels instead of complete open war against the Russians. Now they were effectively prying his Legion's grasp in the Mojave. The possibility of recruiting them against the NCR was there, but it would only hurt his appearance towards his armies.

The strange feeling inside his head continued and all he could desire was some good sleep. He'll have to think about his plans in the next day.

Aren serathy: I haven't played Metro Exodus yet, so I can't really make a comment.