A/N: Okay, we have one last flashback chapter and, I have to say, this may be one of the most emotional... well, towards the end anyway. Now, there's really only one other thing I can discuss with you and that's what an M14 is. An M14 is an American heavy duty battle rifle and, if you want a picture of it in your head, then think of it as This Machine pumped full of steriods... that's what an M14 basically is; an M1 Garand pumped full of steriods and with a box magazine. So, now you have that picture in your head, please enjoy the chapter. By all means, please review and tell me what ya think!

Somewhere south of New Vegas, Mojave Wasteland

2274

Aleksander wiped a bead of sweat off his brow with his gloved hand. The Stallions have been walking for hours on end in the scorching hot sun, tying to distance themselves from New Vegas. They had gone there to regroup, maybe even recruit new members to their cause of liberating the Wasteland from tyrannical organizations and governments like the NCR. Aleksander had hoped that they would be walking back with double or even triple their numbers with loyal members who would show the NCR that a free Wasteland was what everyone wanted… but, that didn't happen.

Instead, they met Mr. House… another tyrannical form of the Old World. Robert Edwin House was the CEO and founder of RobCo Industries and, therefore, he was responsible for escalating the events up until the Great War. Many countries, mainly the United States of America, bought and commissioned robots invented and manufactured by RobCo and these robots were tools of war in conflicts that only decimated and destroyed the world even more. House was one of the main cogs that only spun the gears of world destruction faster and faster. Aleksander had a severe hatred for the man, especially since many of his fellow comrades were gunned down and massacred by RobCo robots, and thought he had suffered in the two hour long bombardment… apparently, Aleksander was wrong and, now, House was here in the Old World and, chances were, he would propel the world to another disaster.

House was already half way to doing so; he was recruiting the tribes that had taken residence in the ruins of Vegas. Aleksander tried to persuade the local tribes to abandon House and the futile possessions he dangled in front of their faces. At first, the tribes listened to Aleksander as he preached of glor and a utopia free from oppression and obsession and the marvelous things to come once this utopia was fully established. It even appealed to the tribes… at first. But the temptation of material possessions on the spot swayed the tribes over into Mr. House's shadow… they sold out just as the Old World inhabitants did nearly every day.

Aleksander couldn't take the continual reoccurrence of the Old World and, finally, he caused the whole situation to erupt into a small war by shooting a Securitron House sent to him to try and convert the Stallions over to his side. It was a long and grisly war that lasted for several months. The Stallions, with the help of Aleksander's leaderships, held out for several months at the already fortified base of McCarran. Finally, the combined forces of Mr. House's Securitrons and the Vegas tribes pushed the Stallions out of New Vegas area completely. Now, the Stallions were on then run, traveling down the tattered and destroyed I-15 with their numbers severely decreased from 150 strong to a measly 25. The Stallions had been beaten back again… the Old World triumphed once more… Aleksander's hope was beginning to fade...

Aleksander didn't know what to believe in or what he should do; he was beginning to lose all hope in his noble cause and he was beginning to think his men were too. The New World was just standing in the shadows of the old and, no matter how hard Aleksander tried to push the New World into it's own light, it still stood strong in the shadows. It started to show him that it was no use to save the inhabitants of this New World… they just wouldn't listen to him, a person who has experienced what the Old World was like and felt the pain that the Old World brought to every soul, and they continued to travel down the path of the people before them. What finally showed Aleksander his cause was nothing more than dream was when the Vegas tibals refused his offer of forming an independent country bent on freedom and, instead, chose the possessions offered by House. They sold out their beliefs and freedom for possessions and resources just as the Old World countries and their inhabitants did centuries before them. Aleksander finally saw the light; there was no way to rid the New World of the old… there was no way to stop the suffering that people felt now and the suffering that would occur in the future… there was no way to stop his suffering… well, there was no way to stop any of it peacefully.

Finally, Aleksander decided that if he couldn't keep the New World from becoming like the old, to rid this world of the Old World, or commit the people into changing their ways and stop the suffering… then he would make them suffer just as he did and show them the pains of the Old World and the suffering that would come if they didn't see the error of their ways.

"Aleksander," a voice from behind him gasped. It was Mikhail, the old war dog, with his heavy M14 battle rifle slung over his shoulder, was walking a few feet behind Aleksander, a limp in his step from when he tripped trying to see every one of his men out of the fortified airport. Mikhail gasped as he talked to his leader, "Where… are we going?"

"We're going back to California," Aleksander answered emotionlessly as he continued to walk forward.

"California?" Mikhail asked, surprise and fear filled his voice. He stopped dead in his tracks, obviously not wanting to go back to the state, and every one of the men stopped as well. Aleksander, noticing his footfalls were the only ones that echoed out, stopped and looked at the stalled group, blackness in his eyes.

"Let's go… now."

"Why are we going back to California, Aleksander? What will we do? The NCR will slaughter us if we set foot back into that state."

"Why are we going back to California?" Aleksander repeated as he walked towards Mikhail, "Because, I have finally seen the light, Mikhail. None of the inhabitants in this New World cares for values or peace or freedom; they care for material possessions and resources, just like the old countries and people. So, I'll tell you what we'll do in California… we're going to cause the NCR and their pathetic citizens as much pain as possible to show them what their possession harboring ways will cause them."

"But, what happened to saving the NCR citizens and the rest of the populace of the Wasteland? What about freeing them from the clutches of the Old World?"

Aleksander, no emotion showing on any part of his body, answered coldly, "They're a waste of our breath. It's no use to try and 'free' them if they continue to embrace the Old World's cold, dead hands."

"So, that means we should make them suffer?"

"They're going to make themselves suffer in the future anyway. They don't know what kind of damage they're doing by shutting in their ideals," Aleksander said, smiling with disgust at the people he spoke of and what their future will be, "Generation after generation will not know right from wrong and will always believe that money or material possessions are what truly matters in the world.

One such value is Democracy, which many NCR citizens have no true grasp on and, as a result, they suffer and so will the future generations because their forefathers did not understand and teach them about the important Democracy. These future generations will not know that they actually have a say in their government and, without that knowledge, they will continue to allow their government to rule with an iron fist. Without knowing Democracy's nature, they will have no say in matters that will drastically affect their way of life.

As you can see, it's despicable and, if we can't get the populace to understand the damage they're doing through reasoning or persuasion… then the only other option would be violence; cause them pain and show them what will happen if they continue their ways. We will make them listen to us!"

"You know, of all the values you accuse the old countries of having, you forgot one, Aleksander."

"What? Which one could I possibly have forgotten?"

Mikhail took a step forward, looking Aleksander in his emotionless eyes, "Forcing others to accept your own ideals and to change their ways."

Aleksander let the sick smile fade away, staring coldly at Mikhail. Mikhail was turning on him, just like Nikolai. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; his own friend was accusing him of holding a value of the countries he hated.

"Are you suggesting that I am keeping one of the old countries' values, Mikhail?" Aleksander asked, his anger and hurt shaking his voice.

"Not only are you keeping one, but you are keeping the value the old countries held closely."

Rage built up in Aleksander's chest. How could his own friend tell him he has anything in common with the countries he hated? He had nothing in common with those countries.

Aleksander held his rage before it could explode into a violent conflict and let out a quivering breath filled with anger as he said his last words to Mikhail, "How dare you even compare me to those Godless bastards? Mikhail, you are relieved from your duties in this gang. Take off your jacket and leave." Mikhail just stared at Aleksander as he removed his rifle from his shoulder and removed his jacket, thrusting it into Aleksander's clutches.

"Aleksander, I may be a war dog, but even I know it's wrong to kill innocent people over ideals. I didn't join the Red Army or your gang to fight for ideals; I joined to fight for the protection of the people I loved… I know you joined for that reason too, Aleksander, but you seemed to have forgotten about the people... you will only cause more harm than good..."

"Goodbye, Mikhail," Aleksander sternly said, not changing his mind whatsoever.

Mikhail nodded, "Goodbye, Mikhail. I will pray for your soul."

With that, Mikhail slung his rifle over his shoulder and, looking back at his former friend once more, walked away from the group and towards a ridge out into the Wasteland. Aleksander watched him as he felt a twang of regret… but there was no turning back.

Sacrifice one to save he thousands, Aleksander thought to himself as he took one last look to the jacket and threw it to the ground, dust being thrown up into the air and coming to rest on the black leather.

Aleksander let out a heavy breath and continued down the road. Many thoughts of doubt came to his mind; thoughts such as whether he was going about this right and whether or not violence was the solution. No, violence was the solution; it was the only way the people would listen and realize the pain and suffering they would bring upon themselves and other generations to follow… and to show them the error of their ways and to change their ways was the only way for Aleksander to end the pain and suffering he had endured his whole life… nothing was changing his mind now… the NCR and their citizens had to suffer… he had to end his suffering…

A few miles south of Shady Sands, New California Republic

August 25, 2275

Aleksander inhaled the tobacco from the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, the embers lighting up his emotionless face in the cold rain that plagued and blackened the day. He watched the ranch below, a whole a fifty acres of crops and livestock. Just below the cliff Aleksander was standing on, and on the southernmost section of the ranch, there was a large section of mixed crops, ranging from Maize to Broc Flower, which took up ten acres of land. On the far northern side of the crops was a large section of fencing that took up the thirty acres in between the crops and residential aspects of the farm. The fenced area was split into four sections; the two southern sections were being used to hold ten head of Brahmin and ten head Bighorners each while the two northern sections were being used as grazing pastures. Past the livestock and crops was the residential part of the ranch; a farmhouse, a three story wooden building with lights shining through the windows and shadows dotting back and forth past the panes of glass, and two red barns that flanked the main house.

Aleksander continued to examine the ranch, his trained eyes picking up and shifting to the slightest bit movement. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, releasing a cloud black smoke. A quick movement caught his eye and his trained pupils instantly snapped to the source of the movement. It was a man, dressed in faded denim coveralls, that was leaving one of the bright red barns and jogged for the farmhouse. He was one of the owners of the ranch and he allowed his ranch to become a safe haven for drug addicts and mere travelers who passed by on the trails. It was a nice little farm that helped many people… the only problem was the fact that they helped the wrong people; possessive NCR citizens and their tyrannical government. Eliminating the ranch would severely cripple the NCR war machine and it would be like a blockage in a human vein; cutting of off blood circulation would mean total devastation to the rest of the body. Destroying this ranch would cause much pain and suffering to the NCR, it's tyrannical government, and it's pathetic citizens.

A rock clattered from behind Aleksander as a piece of mineral fell from a much larger source and began tumbling down to the bottom of the small mountain. Aleksander turned to see who was encroaching upon him; it was fifteen men dressed in black leather jackets with rearing Stallions on their right breast and .44 magnums, their now adopted weapon, on their hips. Fourteen of the loyal men waited below while another, Vladimir Ryndenko, climbed up to stand beside their illustrious leader.

Vladimir began looking up and down the roads, obviously fearing that an NCR patrol might see them, and addressed his leader, "Aleksander, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Why? Are you going to run out on me too, Vladimir?" Aleksander asked, taking in another huff of smoke.

"No, Aleksander," Vladimir retorted, defending himself and proving his loyalty to Aleksander and his cause, even though he had his doubts, "I just wanted to make sure this is what you want. After this… there's no turning back and we'll be on the run from the NCR. You know they won't take this lying down and you know there's no hiding from them."

"You're wrong, Vladimir," Aleksander said, rejecting his companion's comment and removing the cigarette from his mouth, "The citizens will provide all of the protection that we need. Those demented people will continue to 'support' us just to watch their government squirm under the pressure of trying to figure out what to do. But, if the NCR gets brave, then there is a place we can go that will be far from these demon's clutches."

"And where would that be, Aleksander?" Vladimir's doubt was more prevalent in his voice this time. He truly thought Aleksander was so ignorant as to not have a place where he could run to in case he needed to? Vladimir was wrong.

Aleksander didn't say a word as he opened his jacket and removed a small brochure, whose colors were faded, and handed off the small piece of paper to his new second in command. Vladimir took the piece of paper and held it close to his face, trying to examine it through the gray darkness of the rain that overwhelmed them.

Vladimir's eyes widened as he realized what was written on it, "Aleksander, how do you expect us to get there? It would surely be a long walk… and it wouldn't be very pleasant."

"That's why we don't walk," Aleksander turned to Vladimir and took the brochure back, placing it delicately in his jacket pocket, and the turned to ranch once more, gently huffing on the cigarette, "Back in Fort Freedom, there is a special little machine that the American Pre-War government left behind. It would prove very useful in quickly getting us to our destination."

"Wait, you don't mean—"

"Yes, Vladimir, that's exactly what I mean," Aleksander said, answering Vladimir's question before it could leave his mouth.

"But, how do you know that the NCR hasn't already gotten to it?"

"Because, you need a special code to open the doors and explosives would only leave small blast powder residue. The machine is tucked away, safe and secure for us to come and get it. Once we destroy the ranch, we'll drop off a couple men to guard it and, when we absolutely need it, we'll call it in and get out of here. It's that simply, my friend."

Vladimir nodded, understanding the plan, and looked down upon the ranch, "So, how do we go about doing his?"

Aleksander thought for a moment, thinking of the best way to do this deed and then answered Vladimir, "First, we kill the livestock. Quick and cleanly kill every single head of Brahmin and Bighorner and then pile their corpses in the center of the crops… burn them both. Once that's done, I'm pretty sure the owners and who's ever in the ranch and farmhouse will come out to investigate. Once they do, gather them in the Brahmin pen… kill them with one shot apiece and pile their bodies inside the pen. Finally, we burn the farmhouse and barns to nothing but ash and rubble."

"How will the NCR know we've done this?"

"Leave one of our jackets behind… that should be enough. Now, enough questions, Vladimir… let's go."

Aleksander threw cigarette to the ground and began to slowly descend down the cliff face, making sure not to slip on the rocks. His men began to follow shortly afterwards, cursing under their breath as they climbed down after their leader.

This was it; after this deed, they would officially be declared terrorists by the NCR and will be hunted down no matter the cost. It didn't matter, Aleksander just wanted to cause the NCR pain and show these people that their ways were wrong and has been wrong for years. Thankfully, the few men he had with him thought the same and were fiercely loyal to him…

But, what Aleksander didn't tell his troops was something that would more than likely change their minds. A young boy was sent off of the ranch and towards the NCR capital Shady Sands. Whether that boy lived at the ranch or not, Aleksander didn't know. But, if he lived there and that was his family that owned the ranch… Aleksander's heart ached at the thought of that poor boy when he would find them all dead… but, it was necessary to sacrifice his happiness… it was the only way to truly be rid of the Old World… sacrifice one to save the thousands…

A few miles south of Shady Sands, New California Republic

August 25, 2275

Two hours after the destruction of Spiritson Livestock n' Crops

Aleksander looked back behind his group of soldiers, who were laughing at the mayhem they had caused and were chanting jeers at their sworn enemy, the NCR, as they left through the main gate of the ranch. There was a young boy sitting in the ashes of where the front porch of the farmhouse used to be. He was crying, shifting through the ash and rubble and burying his face in his hands as wave upon wave of tears overcame the corners of his eyes.

The young boy didn't do anything except weep at the loss of his family… just as Aleksander did centuries before... the boy didn't do anything at all to deserve this... A tear came to Aleksander's eye as he realized that, in his journey to finally dull his own suffering, he had just caused another person, a young and innocent boy nonetheless, to suffer the same fate. Aleksander's heart tore in two… he wished he could help the poor boy, but there was no turning back now; he can not bring back the boy's family and he can not make reprimands for the heinous crime he and his gang just committed.

But, Aleksander didn't think about any of that; there was only one though tthat popped into his head as he walked away, tears coming to his eyes… What have I done?