After the attack on Polis, the news had reached Polis and the rest of the various factions in the Metro. While they would take time taking in the information, he also took in the opportunity to petition the Council not to go after Artyom. It was something he was relieved to know. Ever since his journey from Exhibition, it almost felt like all of the odds were against him, including the Council. Despite this, Colonel Miller was his staunch defender in a legal battle against those who made decisions that affected the whole of the Metro. He was happy to know the Council wasn't going to execute him for what he did, but his actions in allowing the Dark Ones to live did not go unnoticed. Because of his connection with these mutants, he would have to serve in the Polis Rangers… permanently.

As the young man donned the armor and the uniform of the Polis Rangers, he recollected his thoughts and recalled his last moment with Khan. His words foretelling his would-be future before going into D6 with Colonel Miller and his men. "Keeping quiet? You are turning into a Ranger. Take a close look at the road you follow, Artyom. And be aware at how it might end." Till this day, Artyom could not forget that moment.

When he finished preparing his gear, an old familiar face stepped into the locker room as he raised his visor. "Good morning, Artyom. What do you think of the Council's ruling?" He wondered.

Artyom strapped on his helmet as he attached his night vision goggles on. "Honestly, I'm happy that I'm not executed by the Council." The stalker said in reply. "Although I have to serve as their Dark One translator, it's not as bad as you think."

"Really? I thought you would be terrified by the thought of having scary mutants taking control of your mind and go all Skynet on humanity?"

He glanced over to the veteran Ranger. "What is a Skynet, Uhlman?"

The man sighed and lowered his head. "I must be old if no one gets that reference. Are you still worried about the Dark Ones using you to threatening the rest of humanity?"

"Yes, but they won't."

"How can you be so sure?" Uhlman wondered.

"The Dark Ones were trying to contact me throughout my entire journey to Polis." Artyom answered. "One on travel with another stalker, they saved us from getting killed by whatever lured us into that part of the tunnels."

"You were traveling with another stalker? What happened to him?"

"He was killed at Dry Station by the bandits when I tried to rescue him. Then that was when Khan found me."

"Well, we better stop standing around." Uhlman stated. "Miller wants us to join him and scout the western tunnels."

"Is it because of the invaders from yesterday?"

"Yes. The Council is worried about a second attack so we're scouting them out while the Council tries to get the Reds, Nazis, and even Hanza together." Then the Polis Ranger lowered his visor. "Don't forget your rebreather. You'll need it."

Once they were ready, the duo left the locker room, only to find themselves in the station's armory. Ever since the news of the Red Line's annexation of Kuznetsky Most, some of the weaponsmiths had secretly traveled to Polis for safety in exchange of their services and goods. It had been awhile since Artyom was there, but he hoped that Andrew the Blacksmith had survived the inspections that station endured.

"Rumor has it that the weaponsmiths from Kuznetsky Most a new type of ammunition, can't you believe that?" Uhlman commented. "It's been a long time since I've seen guns of different calibers since the bombs fell."

Curious, Artyom began to ask. "What was so special about it?" He wondered.

"Simple, it's cheap. Rumor goes that some of the gunsmiths are suggesting on reintroducing an old weapon made by Russia a long time ago. It's cheap, reliable, and it might replace the Bastard gun if they continue down that line." When the duo came across a weapon panel guarded by its merchant, both men could not believe their eyes.

Some weapons were makeshift, but the good kind were always the pre-war weapons. They were just that reliable in the tunnels. Thankfully, some weaponsmiths could reproduce the weapon from parts or some remains from the same weapon.

"Hey, what do you got there?"

The weapon merchant looked up at him from sitting upon his stack of crates with a smile. "Do you see something Ranger?" He asked.

"Yeah, what's that gun there." Uhlman pointed towards the weapon beside his knee.

"This my friend is what is going to replace the Bastard gun. It's cheap, reliable, and doesn't have those shitty features. Not to mention, it can also come with a drum mag."

"How much for it?" He wondered.

"Five hundred bullets." The merchant answered.

Now that was a surprise. Artyom had seen weapons cost about two hundred bullets, but five hundred? Not only was that too much for any stalker or soldier in the Metro, but one had to be wealthy in order to get their hands on it. Uhlman deserved to be shocked as well. "Five hundred?! What hell is going on in your store?"

The man spat at the ground and cleared his throat. "Ever since I heard that the Rangers found D6, the boys in the armory are looking to duplicate the weapon, but we need bullets to purchase the materials. Rather than withhold this from any potential customers, my fellow merchants and I have decided to sell a stock of these weapons at a high price for a limited time."

"That price, it's rather steep, don't you think?"

"Until we get start pumping these daddies out, that is the price the merchants have settled on. Hell, that's not counting the ammunition. You'll have to pay an extra hundred for the ammo."

"Damn, I was hoping I could get one. With a wage I'm getting right now, I don't think I'll live to have one." Uhlman said, jokingly. "So much for that."

When his companion left, Artyom remained with the merchant as he thought about his weapons. At the moment, he was considering on taking another weapon. Three was good enough for any stalker, but he was in the Polis Rangers and such organization had been dealing with creatures and threats far beyond any normal person. It might weigh him down in the long run, but the thought of such firepower was irresistible. "Young man, are you going to buy?" The merchant questioned.

The Ranger nodded his head and reached for his pockets. "Here, I will have a go at it."

After the transaction was complete, the merchant passed the weapon to him along with three additional drum mags. "Thank you, I should remind you that the ammo is expensive than a whore in Venice. Try to be conservative with this fucker, it eats bullets like my wife."

Ever since the Gate was opened, whatever remaining leadership that was carried by the lords and kings of the Allied Armies had died at Alnus Hill. Only the Gods knew what would happen afterwards. Worst of all, one of the few lords stumbled upon another Gate on his way towards Italica had considered on invading the otherworlders and surprise them. Sadly, he never returned from joining his men in combat.

Those in his army, particularly the Imperial mercenaries and the non-human auxiliaries had deserted for their homes. The rest who remained near this gate had joined up with the deserters of those who fled Alnus Hill with their lives with only a few remaining men to 'guard' this second Gate. Some believed it was their duty to warn the rest of the continent about this otherworldly power while others stayed with them because they wanted a quick death. Nothing on the battlefield had prepared anyone of this, even the veterans were shocked at how efficient their foes were. At best they were to hold the line for the deserters to flee, but the worst was to become the meatshields.

Thirty men huddled around their campfires as they ate and drank. Some even celebrated at the mere simple fact that they lived through it all. Proclus sipped his wine, savoring its taste after what he saw at Alnus. He was rather lucky that he was part of the last wave of men who moved joined his king's assault on the enemy. Once news came about his king's death, he followed his lord on his way home, but he was gone as well.

How could he return home with no loot to bring from war? The enemy brought death to those who came into their territory. The men - no demons - killed many in those caves when his lord led the charge into battle. The terror the enemy wrought had made the lord's army disband into nothing more than bandits. At the very least, he had the honor of not joining those sons of harpies.

Proclus heard low whispers coming behind his back. When he turned around, he looked at the tunnel filled with nothing, but darkness. It irked him that these whispers were coming from the direction of this tunnel, the very place that the lord's army tried to invade. His hand reached for his sword, fearful of any possible trespassers.

To his surprise, he wasn't the only one hearing the whispers. "Does anyone hear that?" The once cheerful tone of the camp fell quiet as the volume grew louder.

"Yes." Proclus replied. "Something is coming get ready!" He shouted as he rose from his campfire and drew his longsword from its sheathe. The small group created a formation as they readied themselves for combat.

The whispers grew from noticeable to irritating with the voices continuing in noise. Yet, Proclus was shaking. Many battles in his life had not prepared him for this. When the voices reached their climax making it intolerable to their ears, it suddenly became quiet.

"What in Emroy's name was that?" One soldier questioned.

It was soon answered when a lone figure stepped out from the Gate. "Many apologies, warriors. I hope you are not frozen to the bone." The stranger said with an eccentric tone.

Proclus tightened his grip on his sword's handle and glared at him. "Who are you?"

The old man smiled and chuckled at his words. "Worry not about who I am." The stranger answered. "However, you must leave if you wish to live."

"Are you threatening us? You are just a lone man with no one to help you."

"I am not threatening you, I'm warning you about the tunnel you believe is full of riches." Then he stepped closer as everyone in the group directed their blade towards him. "You will die if you remain here, it is better to leave than die here."

"If there is something coming, we can take them."

The stranger shook his head. "That is what your lord believed when he charged straight into the fortress of Polis."

Polis. Was that the name of these people? "You know much about these people, what weaknesses could you tell us?"

"None, for they have survived the end of the world. You are a mere ant in their eyes. Believe me when I say this, it is better to leave."

"What can we do?" One men-at-arms wondered.

"What did you do before?" The lone man questioned.

"I-I was a farmer."

"Then work the land, you'll live longer."

Proclus stepped forward to confront the man personally. "Why are you doing this for us?"

"Believe me, there are some things your people are not prepared to handle." Out from the Gate, a loud bestial roar of many echoed from the darkness. "Go, I will hold them off." The stranger turned his back on him and faced the Gate as he drew his weapon.

"What is coming?"

"Monsters. Now go and never come back." The roar grew louder as the stranger walked towards the Gate. "Casto noi lapide asterium manto, alaum raum om." Suddenly, shadows appeared beside the man as they entered the realm of darkness.

Silence fell upon the assault train as a searchlight lit the tracks. Artyom looked down the scope of his Kalash, joining Uhlman in keeping an eye on any possible threats. Thankfully, a machine gun was mounted on the train as Colonel Miller addressed the issue. "At the moment, learning about who attacked Polis is our top priority and the Council is demanding that we bring someone's head for this." He began. "Since the other groups in the Metro don't use swords and shields, the Council believes we're up against a possible feral group that has succumbed to animal instincts outside of the Metro."

Then Uhlman began to question another detail the colonel failed to mention. "Colonel, what about the creatures that accompanied the unknown hostiles? Did someone shit radiation on them?"

"Enough joking, Uhlman, you know better. However, that is a good question. One of our scientists, Brahmin, informed us that they lack the kind of radiation most mutants usually have. He speculates that the enemy might have discovered some possible pre-war experiment."

"Shit." One of the Polis Rangers driving the train swore.

"Watch your language, soldier!"

"Sorry sir, but the tracks are missing and there is this archway in the way."

The colonel rose from his seat and began to accompany the driver. "What the hell are you talking about?"

When Artyom glanced over to the front of the train, the sight presented to him was beyond something he had expected. Most structures in the Metro showed signs of deterioration due to the lack of maintenance for twenty years, but this archway structure was clean for the naked eye. The details of the structure had crystals as decorations while it contained nothing, but darkness.

"I've seen many things in my life, but this tops it off." Miller commented. "Uhlman, Artyom, dismount. We're going to see where those fuckers are located."

Doing as he was told, Artyom stepped off the train as Uhlman led the way. "Come Artyom, we have another adventure to enjoy. Let's not disappoint our marshal and commander."

Then the colonel walked passed him with a chuckle. "You better control that mouth of yours or I'll make you clean your teeth with the floor."

"I wouldn't mind that since I used my toothbrush." He said jokingly. "Well, I forgot my toothpaste."

As they continued walking through the darkness, the trio turned on their flashlights as they began to make their way towards the unknown destination.

Although the young man didn't want to admit it, Artyom was reminded of the first time he saw the ghosts with Khan. Somehow, he felt that the enemy was bringing something strange to the only world he knew. Whoever had the will to attack Polis was going to meet the wrath of the Rangers, one way or another.

Then they saw a light on the other end of the tunnel. "Masks on." Colonel Miller commented. "We might be bypassing the surface."

Time passed as the bright light on the other end of the tunnel getting closer. Artyom didn't want to admit it, but he hoped that if the soldiers came in hundreds there was a possibility that the surface was not filled with poisonous air. The odds of that happening were rare, but it was never bad not to think about it too much.

When the trio had finally had reached the end, the light was shined before his eyes as Artyom's visor shielded his eyes. As the young man walked to the end, his boots noted the change of the ground. Days of being on the surface had taught him that the ground of the Dead City and the tunnels of the Metro were drastically different. However, there was a breeze unlike any other flowing into his face. Normally, he would try to keep his face covered as much as he could, but the wind did not bring its irritating toxins. Instead, there was feeling of being purified.

The Rangers stepped out of the darkness and into the light with Colonel Miller raising his weapons. "Stay calm and secure the area. They might be waiting for us."

Uhlman scoffed at the prospect. "I wonder why they'll want to wait and see when they could have started earlier. Colonel, I think you scared them away." He followed it off with a chuckle.

"Ha, perhaps I did."

Artyom looked slowly stepped around noticed the area around the archway where he and his fellow Rangers came from. The design was just the same as the entrance, but as he went to his surroundings he saw tents left untouched by the wild. "Sir, I think we're in the enemy's camp." He pointed his finger towards it. "Look."

"Alright Artyom, start searching the tents for any survivors and see who the fuck decided to attack Polis."

Following his officer's orders, the young Ranger stepped into the tent, only to be horrified by what he saw. There were dead men in their beds, hands on their wounds while the insects took advantage of their long-gone hosts. Flies swarmed the bodies and if he couldn't smell the stench, his eyes could feel it. Was these the people that he and Polis fired upon?

Then a pair of footsteps followed after him. "Artyom, how are you - woah. You don't see that everyday." Uhlman commented. "Miller, I think you should see this."

"What the hell is it now?" When the older man entered the tent, he fell silent for a moment and walked past the men. "Holy shit, not everyday do you see something like this. The Council wouldn't believe me if I told them that we were fighting knights in armor from some fantasy world like Lord of the Rings."

A strange cry from an unknown beast had whined outside of the tent.

"Uhlman, did you hear what I just hear?" The colonel questioned.

The joker froze in place, but turned his head towards his superior. "Yes sir. I think… I think that's a horse."

A horse? Was it some kind of strange mutated animal? "What's a horse?" Artyom wondered.

"I'll explain to you later, but we should check out what's outside and see if it is a horse."

Miller and Uhlman stormed the world outside as Artyom followed after them, only to see his friends draw their weapons on a lone driver sitting on his cart. Unlike many people in the Metro, this man was dressed in some strange baggy clothes with a mere chestplate strapped to his body. When he tried to speak, the veteran Rangers stepped forth and shouted at him.

"Alright, step off the cart!" Colonel Miller ordered.

The man's faced was filled with fear as he looked around. Whatever Miller did to him, god would only know, but the driver ran towards the front of the cart with strange animals strapped to the transportation. As he tried to flee to flee, Miller pulled the trigger. To Artyom's surprise the man was shot in the leg, instead of the head.

"Artyom bring this guy to Polis while Uhlman and I start searching through the camp. Inform Petrovich that we need more Rangers here if possible."

"Yes sir." Artyom answered before he made his way towards the man who rode in with the strange creatures. From the lessons he learned from Bourbon, creatures exposed to radiation had drastically changed an animal's body. Yet, these 'horses' seemed no different than the pigs brought into the tunnels.

When the Polis Ranger came over the prisoner, he saw the fear in his eye while he tried to raise his hands to reject the idea of becoming one, but its not like he much of a choice. Artyom smacked the butt of his Kalash at the man, knocking the man out. Whatever had happened before in his life, this place was becoming far more stranger than he could truly expected.

Author's Note: Guess the weapon Artyom had just bought.