It was a quiet morning... The vault dwellers seem to have calmed down. But the Overseer knew all too well that was just the calm before the storm. Typing at the terminal in her office, the synth caught a shadow from the corner of its eye, on one of the monitors connected to the external cameras of the Vault. It was fast.

Curious about it, she rewinded the tape a few seconds. To her big surprise, it was an automobile. A working, convertible, Corvega! The Overseer encountered many cars in her journeys throughout the Wasteland, but she couldn't fix any of them. Their nuclear engines were either too unstable to even attempt starting them, or dead. Usually dead. After 200 years, they had no juice left. But those people had a working automobile! Leaning towards the microphone on her desk, the synth talked:

"To whomever is on duty at the entrance, we're going out. Get supplies for one or two days and a Tracker. I'm coming up."

By the time the Overseer reached the vault door, the security detail was already replaced by guards from other areas of the Vault. Everyone was ready and wondering what they were hunting this time: super mutants, a Brotherhood scout party maybe?

"Follow these tracks," the synth addresses the Tracker.

What? Has the Overseer gone completely crazy? What the hell are they chasing after? A ghost car? Everyone was so confused... But the Tracker didn't argue and chose to follow orders.

The sun was high in the sky. They were waiting for an hour and the heat was really starting to get to Ivan. The large, muscular man didn't want to remove his breather though; the readings showed moderate levels of radiation in this area. Although they were waiting inside a building, there wasn't much protection from sunlight, since the crumbling structure didn't have a roof.

"You said they be here," Ivan talked, annoyed, smashing a mosquito on his neck.

"That's what we agreed on. 12 o'clock. Don't blame me, man."

A noise coming from downstairs caught the Russian's attention.

"Is that you, idiots? I wait for one hour! It better be you."

When he turns, his buddy was holding a 10 mm pointed at him.

"Hands up! Don't move." The skinny guy yells at the people downstairs. "I'VE GOT HIM! COME ON UP."

"You idiot! You think you can double-cross Ivan? Filthy American!"

"Don't you fucking move. I'm warning you! Hey guys, what's taking you so long?"

Looking thorough the collapsed wall, the skinny guy notices a bunch of people wearing blue suits, not far from the building. The Raiders downstairs probably saw them too and were moving to intercept.

Who the fuck are tho- The skinny guy didn't get to finish his thought. Using his katana, the Russian slashed the hand holding the gun in one swift move.

"You messed with wrong guy, asshole." he says pushing his sword through his friend's body, and then kicking him down the stairs with his heavy boots. This is why I don't trust Americans, Ivan thought to himself, while cleaning his sword of blood.

The vault dwellers split in two groups: three people were approaching the building from the front, while the Overseer was covering the exit at the back. Because he wanted to avoid a confrontation, Ivan was retreating to the back of the building. One more room and I'm out of here, he thought as he ran through the corridors.

Unfortunately for him, two raiders were standing between him and the exit. One of them was wearing power armor; no way he's gonna get past him with his katana. Crouched behind a corner, Ivan was thinking about what to do next when the Overseer entered the room. The raiders quickly engage her. The synth was throwing punches left and right. Taking out her 10 mm pistol, the Overseer shoots the Raider boss, but the bullets only manage to make him more angry, as they ricochet from his power armor into the walls.

Looks like the broad can handle herself, Ivan thought. I better go help.

Getting out from his hiding spot, the Russian charges the other Raider, yelling. His enemy was bigger than him, and he was carrying a spiked bat which, Ivan had to admit, he was handling quite well. Maybe too well. While fighting, they got separated from the Overseer and the Raider boss, and somehow ended up in the adjacent room.

The Russian was trying hard to block the incoming hits with his katana, and soon started wondering what the fuck was he doing? He probably felt intimidated by the size of his opponent, and started playing in defense.

"I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR HEART OUT!"

The Overseer screams were all it took for Ivan to come back to his senses. Damsels in distress were always his weakness; he just couldn't leave a woman take a beating. So, he got up, he started fighting like he mean it, and eventually split the raider in half with his katana.

As he rushed into the other room to help the 'woman', Ivan saw her climbed on the power armor, pushing her firm fingers into the Raider's eyes, while the guy was screaming in agony. A few seconds later, the Raider boss was dead.

"Whoa... whoa... You are tough lady," Ivan says.

"Thanks. What happened to the other guy?"

"Ah, he had to split... What's your name, pretty?"

"I don't have a name. You can call me ma'am; everyone else does."

"C'mon, don't bullshit me."

"I'm not. Where is your friend?"

"What friend?"

"The guy you came with? Your... passenger?"

"We came long way. He's dead tired," Ivan sighs. "Nevermind him."

"OK... Let's get out of here. Follow me."

Exiting the building, Ivan accompanies the Overseer around the destroyed structure, until they reach the front. Several raiders were lying on the ground, blood was everywhere. The poor bastards got shred to pieces by the minigun one of the men in blue suits was holding. The Russian quickly draws his katana.

"You want problem? I give problem." Ivan shouts, putting on his angry face, clearly trying to impress the synth.

"Calm down, they're with me," the Overseer smiled.

"We don't want any problems, big guy," one of the guards grins. "We were just passing through when your friends attacked us."

"They are not my friends. Raider scum!"

"You're hurt. Do you need any help?" the Overseer asks, noticing the wound on Ivan's right shoulder. Looks like the Raider got him good with that spiked bat of his.

"No," Ivan replies. "This is scratch. I have to go. Dasvidanya."

Realizing that the Russian might get away and she might lose this unique opportunity to study his vehicle, the Overseer has no choice but to invite Ivan to her 'home', promising him booze, supplies and a doctor to tend to his wounds.

"Where is home?" the Russian inquires.

"Three miles south of here," the Overseer points with her hand. "In a vault."

"Vault? What is vault?"

"You know, underground? Like a military bunker?" one of the guards steps in.

"You have bunker? C'mon, don't bullshit me."

"She's not lying. You'll see," the Tracker winks.

"OK. I come. Get in za car." Ivan points towards his automobile.

The trip back to the Vault took about 15 minutes and the entire time the three guards acted like teenagers, yelling and waving from inside the convertible. The Overseer was sitting way back, with her ass on the trunk. Her feet were resting on the back seat, between her two overexcited guards.

Ivan was a little worried and asked her to get down several times, concerned that she would fall from the speeding car. But the synth didn't want to hear about it. That's her spot and she's not giving it away. For some reason, she liked how the wind was blowing in her hair. It felt... different. Maybe because she has never experienced anything similar before. The Russian was assaulting her with questions and compliments, clearing hitting on her.

"Man, you really need to stop that," the guard riding in front seat says. "She's a synth."

"A synth? What is synth? I am orthodox."

The Tracker starts laughing and decides not to tell him. It was more fun watching the guy trying to flirt with a toaster.

"So, how did you get here anyway? I mean, in America," the guard continues.

"I dunno. One night, I sleep, right? Then, bright light. And here I am."

"Where did you get that cool sword from?"

"From a trader. Was gift." Ivan grins.

"A gift, uh? That's nice..."

"Yes. After I killed him. He called me 'commie bastard' for returning defective gun and... oтказался... What is word? Refuse? To give caps back to me."

"Oh..."

After that, the Tracker remained silent until they reached the Vault. The Russian was a little intimidating, mainly due to his size. The muscular man looked like someone you don't want to mess with and, with his limited understanding of English, it was best not to say something he might misinterpret.

"Well, we're here! Welcome to my humble home, Vault 121," the Overseer smiles, stretching her hands out.

"Yes, yes. I can't wait to meet your women! I hope they are all as beautiful as you."

Man... One of the guards facepalms. He is going to be so disappointed when he finds out.