Revised on the 16th of October 2017


Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean

2076

A series of rifle shots went off and echoed off the walls of a very large room. Thundering with every register, accompanied by the sounds of metal clicking and sliding against each other between the brief pauses of silence. Eventually, five shots went off one after the other and the Courier pulled back the bolt on his Karabiner. The last spent cartridge falling to the floor and clattering for a few moments until it settled down.

Nathan was at the Watchpoint's range, a decent facility for those stationed here to practice with their firearms to make sure their aim didn't dull. It was an indoor range, had a row of shooting booths for individuals to occupy, a spacious walking area behind the shooting booths for easy movement, and the target range itself is a large open space with barriers and protective measures built into it. The shooting galleries themselves weren't that large - the maximum distance around fifty meters - but it was good enough for the Waster, and the use of holographic targets instead of physical ones was a novelty for him.

With a few taps on a screen on his booth's table, the holographic target floated down from the maximum distance and right up to him. The target, which was basically a digital version of the paper targets that were a simple outline of a man with highlighted sections, indicated where his shots went with a simple dot. Five shots, all of them around 8 millimeters in diameter, were in a tight group where the head was. All of them less than an inch apart from each other. It was kind of a sin to only use the old bolt-action at only fifty meters out, but at least Nathan knew the old rifle's iron sights were somewhat on-point. He took off the scope earlier as it didn't make sense to sight them in at an indoor range.

As the red eyes of his helmet, which he wore alongside casual attire as it provided both eye and ear protection, examined the group he nodded in approval before tapping a few more buttons on the screen and sending it back to the maximum distance for more shooting. He had recently made some more ammunition for the rifle at a workshop he found in the base and wanted to see if the old German Mauser worked well with it. The Waster was surprised to see that some of the materials he used had the same brand names as some Pre-War manufacturers and only wondered how much further the connections ran deep. Nathan shook that thought away, trying to concern himself with shooting for now. He enjoyed that much more.

He finished loading the magazine with more rounds, pushing the bolt forward and chambering a cartridge. He shouldered the stock, lined up the sights, and fired. Nathan operated the bolt, the piece of metal sliding smoothly and without a hiccup, and let loose another round at the target. Already pulling back the bolt and ready to repeat the cycle, he stilled as another booth to his left went unexpectedly went live with fire. Thinking he was alone. He looked and saw another holographic target, around twenty meters away from its booth, being pelted by cyan pellets of energy that traveled somewhat slowly. Still fast, but much slower than the energy weapons he was used to, even Plasma. The noise it made for some reason made Nathan think of a rodent sneezing.

Peering his helmeted head from his booth's dividers, the Mauser still pointed down range, he saw someone he wasn't expecting. It was that young girl with the brown hair, the one that spied on Nathan when he was still in the cell, and she was wearing a simple pink tank top with jean shorts along with those stylized headphones she always seems to wear. While it was not too exposing, there certainly could've been a more protective outfit to bring to the range. At least she had eye protection.

The man couldn't see what her firearm looked like due to the dividers, but judging from her stance it must've been a pistol.

'Hmm…' Nathan hummed, as his eyes scrutinized her form. 'Her stance could use some work.'

He quietly went back to his booth and his rifle, pushing the bolt forward and taking aim again at the target. He fired the last two rounds in quick succession and brought the target back to his face again to see where the custom rounds had landed. They were all on the head again but the grouping wasn't as tight as he wanted it to be. As he tried to examine the shots, another peculiar noise sounded off to the left. Against better and wiser judgment, he peered from his booth again and at the kid firing off shots from her sidearm until she had to reload. When she did so, he saw her arms move in a curious way that resulted in a funny noise when she did. It reminded him of those old holotape games.

"Goddammit, stop getting fucking distracted," he muttered lowly to himself, leaning back into his booth.

Looking down on his rifle and examining it for any gunk and residue that possibly could've formed from his custom loads, until he accidentally knocks off a few rounds from the booth table that clatter to the floor. Groaning, he bends down and picks them up, but notices something in the corner of his left eye before looking up.

"Jesus Christ, kid!" he exclaimed in surprise as he jumped and faced the young girl who was now at his booth for some reason. "Do you always sneak up on people?"

She regarded the tall man with a scrutinizing glare with her arms were crossed, perking one of her eyebrows.

"You were staring at me and saying something," she simply stated as she eyed him. "Did you need something or...?"

Nathan breathed out of annoyance and to get his heart back into the proper rhythm.

"I didn't stare at you that long," he explained, his face unamused.

"So, you were staring?!" she questioned, accusingly.

"Yes, but not to be a creep. I just thought I was alone in the range and wasn't expecting anyone else. The hell are you shooting, anyway? Looks like pellets."

Her eyebrows perked further out of slight suspicion before she gestured and led Nathan back to her booth. Once there, the man looked and saw she had an overtly pink handgun that had a black grip and furniture, and a set of pink rectangles with glowing cyan insides that he assumed were its "batteries". The girl grabbed it, ejecting a battery from its grip, and handed it to Nathan while she kept it pointed downrange.

"This is my little problem solver," she declared with a sly smirk as Nathan picked it from her smaller hands, seeing the designation 'HB50' on its side. "She can fire twenty fusion bolts at 50 meters-per-second at a rate of 420 rounds a minute. I just slap in a cell and she's ready to go!"

Nathan wasn't sure what to think of the handgun he was holding, somewhat befuddled by its appearance. The first thing that stood out to him was how small the thing was, especially in his big palm. It was clearly custom-made but looked more like it was trying to make a fashion statement with its pink furniture and attachments than to be more combat effective. That dangling trinket at the bottom of the grip was definitely there for show, and there was a decal on the side of the pink heatshield that he barely recognized as a very stylized version of her "name". He looked at the table and picked up one of the fusion cells, also dwarfed in his big hands. Smaller than the fusion cells he was used to.

"May I?" he asks, gesturing to the ammo and the gun.

"Uh, sure," she says, slightly reluctant. "Just don't mess with it too hard."

Nodding to her, he turns and faces the target she set up. He inserts the cell, hearing the gun makes the weird game noise he heard earlier. Not seeing any other bit on the sidearm for him to manipulate, he raises it and aims at the target. Ungainly in his right hand, almost uncomfortable to find a proper grip on it, he squeezes the trigger and watches as the pellet of energy flies and hits the target right where he intended. The recoil was very light, impressing even him as it felt comparable to measly .22's. He lets off a few more shots, all of them hitting their mark with ease. The Courier ejects the cell and sets the energy weapon down and looks back at the girl, seeing her with a coy grin on her face.

"So, whaddya' think?" the owner asks expectantly. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"I guess," the Wastelander responds. "If I wanted to hunt varmints."

The girl's grin was replaced with an unamused scowl before grumpily crossing her arms and lightly stomping her foot, like a rabbit.

"Seriously? That thing's top of the line, you know?"

"Really? It felt more like a pea-shooter. And that stance of yours? Surprise you've lasted this long, kid."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Oh, yeah? Here…" Nathan grabs her pistol and holds it up to her. "Take it and let me see."

She scowled at the man, before rolling her eyes and taking the gun from his hand. The young girl then got into form, her arms jutting forward with the pistol in hand, her torso arching back a bit, and her feet adjusting their position. The older man observed her, scrutinizing her up and down before speaking up.

"You don't need to lean back that much," she heard his voice through the helmet's speaker. "Lean forward. You'll have better control over the recoil, what little there is, and don't put unnecessary stress on your back."

The kid regarded him with an irritated expression until she looked ahead and started to arch forward, to the point where her gun was hovering over the range itself. This only resulted in Nathan shaking his head more side-to-side.

"Now that's too much," he stated bluntly as he walked over with an annoyed sigh. "You're going to fall flat on your face."

She then arched back, again, almost close to what she was before.

"No, that's- Urgh, here!"

"What're you- Hey!" the young woman exclaimed as he laid his hands on her, one hand on her midsection and another on her shoulder as he tried to push her torso forward.

"Calm down, kid," the Courier reassured, his tone bored neutral as he began to adjust her footing with his boot.

"I have a name," the young girl stated, annoyed by the word he kept calling her.

"Isn't it 'Diva'?"

"It's Hana. Hana Song."

"Well, Miss Song… Here."

He stepped back and examined Song's current stance. Her torso leaned forward but just enough. Her feet were spread apart so she could get a proper footing instead of being bunched up. Finally, her arms stretched out to her front more but didn't lock her elbows just yet.

"How 'bout now?" the older man asks, wondering if she felt any improvement.

"It feels..." she says, not used to her form being like this. "Weird."

"You'll get used to it, kid. Maybe soon you'll be able to shoot real guns."

"I'm pretty sure I could handle a 'real gun', dude."

Hana didn't see it, but Nathan perked an eyebrow under his helmet before he walked back to his lane. She walked back up to her shooting table, raised her gun and tried to get back into the stance her "instructor" had shown her. As she mentioned, it felt foreign and she almost instinctively went back to the stance she did before, but she had to admit that her back felt a bit better. Suddenly, a long, dark, and brown thing then entered her view and she stepped back to see it was Nathan's old rifle in front of her, barrel pointed downrange. She looked at his helmeted head, a confused expression on her face. He tipped his head to the rifle in response.

"You said you could a handle real gun, didn't you?" he recalled, holding up two rounds for the gun in his other hand. "Let's see if you can."

Hana cast a glare up at him before she looked back at the rifle in front of her. She never liked backing down from a challenge, a competitive and somewhat overbearing spirit inside her. Even if it seemed trivial. She just liked proving people otherwise and rubbing their faces in it, but that was only when the Gamer knew she had the upper hand. The young woman grabbed the rifle, immediately caught off-guard by how heavy the wooden weapon was. The length was also ungainly for her short frame as she tried to wrap her hands around the fore-end and the semi-pistol grip.

"This thing's old, though," the kid stated the obvious, looking at it as if it was as dirty as an old sock.

"This thing's battle proven," the Courier specified. "It's probably done more than your little BB gun. Deadlier too, I'd assume."

"What do you want me to do with it?"

"Shoot it. What else?"

Nathan placed the two rounds upright on her shooting bench, dwarfing the fusion cells for her pink pistol. With little hesitation, Hana grabbed the rounds with her right hand, supporting the big rifle with her left. She pulled back the bolt and seeing the inside, inserted the two rounds into the magazine with some struggle until they audibly clicked in. She grunted as she pushed the bolt forward and chambered a round. Thankfully, those old World War II games taught her dad had taught her something.

The Gamer brings up the rifle to shoulder, feeling the metal butt plate of the stock against her skin and tries to find the iron sights in her vision. When she does, she lines them up against her target but blinks when she sees it snap farther away from what she had originally set it at. Looking to her left, the young woman sees Nathan tapping on her booth's screen before returning his arms to rest across his chest, crossed. Hana once again casts an annoyed glare at him, his expression unchanging with the mask.

"It's a rifle, kid," he said, gesturing to the weapon. "They're meant to be used at a distance. Besides, fifty-meters shouldn't be too hard, is it?"

The girl could only roll her eyes before returning to the target in front, noticing her left arm was starting to be a bit fatigued from holding it like this. She closed one eye, peering through the iron sights, and lining them up with the red holotarget which now seemed like a blur. This time, she followed the older shooter's advice and applies the same principles to this gun. She got her trigger on the finger and pulled it, causing the round to spew forth from the muzzle in a ball of fire as she flinched and rocked back from the recoil and the sound. The MEKA pilot lowered the rifle and breathed sharply, feeling the wind knocked out of her. She wasn't expecting that.

"You jerked the trigger."

She gaped at Nathan, still standing over her with crossed arms. Her expression was still slightly annoyed, but it was also attentive this time.

"Don't pull on it like a rope," the Courier instructed, demonstrating the action with his hand. "Softly curl your finger around the trigger. Squeeze it, don't pull. It won't mess up your line of sight as bad. Try again."

Hana looked at him, then down at the rifle. She brought her right hand up and grabbed the bolt's knob, cranking it up before pulling it back, watching as the spent casing ejects and falls to the floor. She pushes forward and chambers the second round, bringing the old German gun back up. She repeats what she did the first time and places her finger on the trigger, but not immediately pulling on it. Slowly, and carefully, Hana curled her finger around the metal hook, bringing it all the way back until it clicked and the Mauser went off again. The Korean girl still flinched and was rocked back but didn't have the wind knocked out of her as bad as the first time.

Nathan got closer, looked at the target before he regarded Hana and picked up the Mauser from her shaking arms. He pulled the bolt back, clearing it.

"Let's see how you did," he said, tapping on the screen, and making the holotarget appear closer.

Upon closer examination, Hana had landed one round in center mass. Well, close to center mass, as the dot was veering to the right and close to the outline of the target. And that was the only dot on the target, as they couldn't see the second one.

"At least you got one," Brin observed, addressing Song. "First for everything, kid."

"Pfft, whatever," Hana responded, attempting to not seemed embarrassed about her performance. "That gun's old, anyway. I still prefer my Light Gun."

"Just because it's old doesn't mean it's not capable. I'd know."

"I'm sure I can attest to that, too," a voice spoke from behind them.

Nathan and Hana turned around to see Ana, in a simple blue sweater and black pants, with her rifle slung over her shoulder. McCree was at her side, too, in a red western plaid shirt and jeans. The Cowboy had his belt on him, big iron on his hip. And for once, without a cigar in his mouth.

"Hi, Grandma!" Hana elatedly greeted, waving at her, oblivious to Nathan giving her a confused turn of his head.

"Hello, dear," Ana returned with a warm smile. "He's not giving you any trouble, is he?"

"Eh, not really. Kinda creepy, though."

"Says the person who snuck up on me at a gun range," he remarked, giving Hana a dirty look she couldn't see. "So, what're you doing here, ma'am? McCree?"

"Just came here to catch up with the Cap'," the Cowboy explained, placing a metal hand on her shoulder. "Show her I'm still a crackshot."

"Hmph, have fun with that."

The Courier went back to his booth, the old Mauser in tow. He touched the screen, adjusting the target so it would be back at the maximum distance. He loaded the rifle with five rounds, pushed the bolt forward, and aimed at the target. He could hear some chatter coming from the left side, voices belonging to the other three occupants of the range. He tried to not let them distract him too much in-between his rifle shots and trying to get a decent group.


A couple of hours later Nathan was back at his quarters, the Kar98k laid out over his desk, unloaded, and with the tool-kit he found with it opened and ready to be used. There was a problem, however, as he wasn't familiar with the weapon and couldn't really figure out how to fieldstrip the old thing. He slid the bolt out, at least, but that was as far as he got. The Courier slowly became more frustrated, irritated that he couldn't do something he's done with other guns thousands of times, before. Especially what wasn't his first bolt-action. It kept gnawing at his mind as someone then knocked on his door.

Grumbling, Nathan got up to answer, thinking it was going to be Dr. Ziegler or Winston. Instead, it was the young woman from the range earlier.

"Song?" he let out, wondering what she was doing at his door. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I just wanted to say thanks," she explained, avoiding eye-contact as if she was timid. Odd given how brash she was in their last few meetings. "For teaching me that stuff back at the range. And letting me shoot your gun. Didn't get a chance earlier so here I am now."

"Uh, you're welcome, kid. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm kinda busy."

"Doing what?"

Nathan stopped as he turned midway, deciding whether he should humor her and tell her what he was doing. He just wanted to be left alone in his room, but couldn't stop his mouth from moving for that moment, for some reason.

"Trying to fieldstrip and clean the old rifle. Problem is it didn't come with an instruction manual. So, I'm just a stick in the mud, now."

"Have you tried Googling it?"

The Waster snapped back to the Korean, his brow furrowed.

"What?" he asked, clearly confused by what she said.

"Y'know… 'Google it'?" she repeated, equally confused by his reaction.

"What does that number have to do with anything?"

"What? Ah, nevermind, I'll just show you."

Without warning, Hana barged in, Nathan turning to get out of her way as she walked to his desk with purpose. He wanted to speak out against the intrusion but was curious of what she was going to do. At his desk, moving the rifle to the side, the young woman activated a holoscreen and began to type onto the touch-keyboard. The screen then turned white, with a multicolored word that spelled "Google" and had a rectangular outline beneath it.

"What kind of gun is this?" she asked, pointing to the rifle.

"A Mauser Kar98k," he answered. "Why? You have a manual in a databank or something?"

She then began to type the words into the bar, making the holoscreen display a white page of words, many of them colored blue and with references to Mauser, Kar98k, fieldstrip, or all of them bunched together. Brin wasn't sure what he was looking at.

"What is this?" the Wastelander questioned, his eyes darting all over the screen.

"A search page," the Korean girl explained. "It shows links related to whatever you type into the bar at the top. Google's a search-engine meant to help people search through the Internet for whatever information they want to search."

"…Anything?"

"Yup. Videos, articles, books, games, pictures- Wait, your world doesn't have anything like this?"

This was a lot to take in for the Wastelander in just the span of a few seconds, as he's never heard of the Old World ever having anything like this. A vast amount of information literally at the tips of a person's fingertips. This had to be something only Overwatch, the once world-renowned international organization of scientific progress, had access to, right? Yet, the way she mentioned his world…

"No, it doesn't…" the Courier admits, still trying to figure out what he's looking at. "Now, what?"

"Press on any of the links and it should bring you to a web page," the Korean nonchalantly explained. "Careful where you go and search, though, the Internet can be a weird place. I'd know."

Nathan regarded the young woman with an astonished look, mildly impressed by the information she was giving. Doing as she said, he pressed his finger on one of the "links" and the screened change to now an article with images, detailed instructions written below them.

"I guess you know your way around this type of stuff, do you?" he said, finding some excitement with this newfound technology.

"Eh, kinda," she shrugged. "It's pretty common knowledge. Sorry for marching in like that, seeing old people struggle with technology annoys me."

Nathan restrained himself from saying anything about the "old" comment.

"Well, thanks anyway, kid," he graciously said, still a bit apprehensive. "You didn't have to go out of your way, though."

"Neither did you. Still, don't mention it."

She was about to walk out, stopping herself at the doorway before turning around to say something else.

"Oh. Ana said your rifle looks cool. I just felt like you should know that."

DVa left, waving goodbye. Nathan returned a simple wave before he went back to his desk. He looked at the holoscreen and back to the rifle and the bolt. He touched the screen, scrolling to an image that displayed a set of hands disassembling the bolt and immediately got to work. However, as he was working on the bolt and began to take it apart, he noticed something on the margins of the webpage. Unrelated to what was on the page, it was an advertisement that reminded him of those old movie posters from before the war. The style was vastly different but it had the same template: the title in bold font at the top, three of the actors in the center with a storm in a city behind them, and the names of the actors below their feet along with the rest of the production crew. One was a man, another an Omnic, and the third in the center was Hana. In a colorful blue and pink skinsuit under a scientist coat, holding some doohickey in her hand with a proud look on her face.

"The hell?"


Relay Bunker, Mojave Wasteland

2285

"We need to barricade the door now!" Veronica exclaimed, newfound panic in her voice.

"You sure it will work against fucking Power Armor?!" Parmley responded, trying to pry the old stove from the kitchen wall.

"It might slow them down! Hey, mask dude! Go help him!"

The man with the twisted hairs regarded her with a stern look before simply nodding and running to the Ranger's side, grabbing onto the other side of the stove, and helping to tear it from the wall and place it against the metal door. Veronica and Boone also contributed, grabbing anything that wasn't nailed to the ground and piling it against their only barrier against the Brotherhood Paladins. There soon was a mountain of junk and furniture between them and the Brotherhood.

"You think that will hold?" Parmley asked, breathing heavily from carrying all that stuff.

A loud bang at the door that made the pile of junk shake caused them to jump. It was followed by other, louder, and stronger bangs of metal against metal. Their barricade getting weaker with each tremor.

"Not for long," Veronica stated before running back to the relays, the others close behind. "Please tell me you guys have anything that could help against Power Armor!"

Hearing that, Boone immediately went to his pack and began to dig through it, trying to find the gifts Elder McNamara had given to them when they went to the Hidden Valley. His eyes soon landed on a group of metallic silver explosives they had.

"I got some Pulse Grenades in my pack!" Boone exclaimed, holding one in his hand. "Are these enough?"

"Eh… Those things are more for robots than Armor," the Scribe responded, frantically trying to work on the terminal at the same time. "But it could disable one or two of them! Get them ready!"

As the ex-Scribe was frantically trying to input the data from the black box into the Relay controls, Parmley, Boone, and the two dogs began to set up defenses for the inevitable. The Sniper had already passed around the few Pulse Grenades they had and was taking cover behind a console with Parmley, both their rifles at the ready. As much as the heavy-hitters that .308 rounds were, Power Armor was a whole different beast to contend with. At best, it'll annoy and disorient the occupants inside those shells of armor.

"Veronica, how are we on that relay?!" Boone yelled over to her.

"I'm getting close!" she replied, her face still plastered to the screen and fingers typing frantically. "I just need a minute!"

As that was happening, as their hearts began to beat faster and the sweat pouring out of their foreheads, the Ranger noticed something off as he looked around. They were short one man.

"Hey, where the hell is the weird gu-"

A sudden explosion down the hall had deafened the inside for a moment as a cloud of smoke and debris spilled forth from the doorway. The Ranger and the Sniper became silent, their grips tightening on their rifles. Rex and Cooper growled as they sat behind their cover. Veronica could not afford to be distracted. Then, the stomping of metal began to emanate from down the hall accompanied by a bright ray of light from a helmet. Finally, the hulking silhouette of a T-51b Power Unit appeared in the cloud of smoke, nearly taking up the hallway space.

A barrage of red laser fire from a Gatling Laser sprang from the figure and forced the NCR Sniper and Ranger to duck down. The burst soon died down, giving Boone enough time to throw a Pulse Grenade down the hallway with Parmley following suit. The hulking, imposing figure, tried run back behind cover but the grenades went off, the EMP clearly affecting the soldier and forcing him to take a knee. They let loose a barrage of their own, slinging high-velocity lead at the kneeling figure. The Paladin tried to shield himself with an armored arm, the rounds pinging violently off the metal but not penetrating. Eventually, he slinked back behind a corner, taking cover. Another Paladin replaced him as he peered from the corner and fired at the two, firing bursts from a Tri-Beam Laser. Soon, a Paladin armed with minigun occupied the hallway and let loose his own high-volume barrage.

"Wait for that bastard to reload!" Boone exclaimed, dipping lower and lower into cover as lead away chipped it.

Six grueling seconds later, the minigun finally went silent but not for long. Boone and Parmley sprang from cover, Boone taking aim at the minigun and firing, sending a .308 round at it. The weapon sparked and was knocked back, the Paladin rushing to try and remedy it and get the weapon operational again. A Pulse Grenade landed at his feet and forced the Brotherhood squad to disperse for a moment. However, a stray laser bolt hit the Sniper in the arm, sending him crashing to the floor in a cry of pain and clutching the scorched skin.

"Craig!" Parmley yelled, instantly kneeling to his comrade.

"I got it!" Veronica declared, running over to them, and already hoisting her friend over her shoulder. "Let's go, now!"

They hoisted their friend up, running to the relay that Veronica had set to send them to the coordinates she could input and encode. Bobbing and weaving through the energy discharge.

"They're trying to get away!" one of the Paladins yelled. "Move in!"

Two of their metal golems moved in, running through the hallway and trying to catch up to them. However, they stopped as they notice something roll to their feet from a doorway left in the hall.

"Shit! Grenades-!"

The explosives detonated, rocking the Paladins off their feet in a cloud of dust, disoriented. As they tried to get up, a figure looming in the doorway burst forth, with a golden staff and a gun. One of the Paladins that tried to rise was bashed to the ground and had his helmet swiftly knock off by the staff. His exposed head then took a burst of 12.7mm SMG fire and instantly ended his life. The other Paladin on the ground raised his laser rifle to the man but had it instantly knocked away and had the barrel of the SMG shoved into his visor. Before he could react and with one squeeze of the trigger, his helmet's black visor cracked and the man underneath went limp as blood spilled from it. However, the masked man barely had time to react as an enormous mass of metal charged into him and carried him through the hallway, then slamming him into a table where the relays were. With a metal gauntlet wrapped around his throat, he looked back to see the search party were all gone, disappearing to wherever the machines sent them. With a free hand, he tossed a grenade right where the relays were, the Paladin spotting it.

"No!" he screamed, letting go of the twisted haired man and running towards the grenade. But it was too late, as it exploded and caused the devices to spark and implode. The Paladin stepped back, shielding himself with his arm until he lowered it and saw what had happened. Balling was his metal fist, he stomped over to the man trying to get up and grabbed him by the shoulders before he slammed him against the wall, making him hover off his feet. He groaned in pain, recovering from the force of the shock before he looked the Paladin dead in the visor, his stoic visage returning.

"You are going to tell me everything!" the Brotherhood of Steel soldier demanded through his helmet's speakers. "Everything that your friends have planned!"

The Courier merely looked at the metal man holding him in a vise, his expression unchanging as he struggled little.

"I only know what I've seen," he stated, his voice still a calm tenor. "You can hide behind that shell of metal all you want, Paladin. It doesn't make you a better man."

The armored man growled as he threw Ulysses tumbling to the bunker floor, knocking his mask off. The Courier tried to get up until a metal boot kicked him in the stomach and cracked a few bones, making him curl into a ball. As the Paladin stood over him, the remaining squad members walked up to him.

"What now?" one of them asked, staring at the man on the ground.

"Might as well kill him," he said, pulling out a Laser Pistol. "We have everything we need here. We'll report to Hardin that they got away."

Before he could even pull the trigger, the rushing of feet and Armor made them turn around and see a group of Brotherhood of Steel and NCR Troopers fill into the bunker and aim their weapons at Hardin's contingent. The contingent returning the gesture.

"What the hell is this?!" one of them exclaimed.

"Paladins!" one of the Brotherhood members yelled at them. "By the order of Elder McNamara, I order you to surrender your weapons and power armor for violating the NCR-Brotherhood Treaty and The Codex!"

"That treaty is violating the Codex! We are fighting for Hardin in the pursuit of higher-technology, what we were born to do! If you refuse to support your fellow Brothers and Sisters, we will have to-"

A thunderous, shrill roar that echoed through the cave and bunker walls silenced him and the others. Everyone stopped, looking around and try to figure out the source of that sound. It wasn't long until the sound of gunfire and screaming emanated from outside the bunker and the cave itself, making some of the soldiers turn back and start to tremble with fear. One NCR trooper ran out promptly went back in after she saw what was happening.

"It's them!" she announced with a tremble in her tone.

"What?" one of the Paladins uttered.

"The Tunnelers," a deep voice spoke out from behind, making them turn around. It was Ulysses, getting to his feet with some blood dripping from his mouth.

"They've been shaken by the noise. The fighting, the gunfire, the explosions. It angered them. And led them to their prey."

He looked up, regarding everyone with a tired expression but still burning with a determined spirit. A spirit willing to fight to the end.

"Assemble, Brothers of Steel and Soldiers of the Bear. With your rifles and your lasers. Let us face the monsters burrowing from the ground. The residents of The Divide. What the Old World has left us. Left for the Mojave."