It was a quiet night at the Goodsprings Cemetery. The hill overlooked, not only the town the cemetery was named after, but the surrounding areas. At the same time, it was one of the few viewpoints where one could admire the city of New Vegas. Unfortunately, fate had other plans in store for those buried there.

A young and well-dressed man was patiently waiting for his muscle to finish with their catch. In this case, catches. The Great Khans were incredible fighters and Benny was glad they were willing to take this job. His company was full of rough men wearing black jackets and horned helmets, any form of gracefulness being nonexistent.

One of the Khans busied himself in digging new additions to the cemetery. The only incentive for the back-breaking work was the sheer amount of caps that were on the proverbial table. As Benny waited for his captures to arrive, he reached into his pockets for his lighter and a fresh cigarette from his breast pocket. When he finally lit the end, two Khans had finally reached the edge of the summit with bodies in hand - their heads covered in sacks.

The leader of the Chairmen had a smile upon his face as he gestured for them to bring them closer. "McMurphy, take them off."

A dark-skinned Khan released his grip on his capture. "Why don't you make it quick already?"

He closed his lighter and returned it to his pockets as he walked up to one of the souls he wanted to see. "The Khans can kill people without looking them in the eye, but I ain't a fink."

Then he ripped the sack off the man's head. The stranger was disoriented, but as he got his bearings, the man recognized the obvious fact that he was kidnapped. His foreign accent fascinated Benny; however, there were better things to worry about. "Who the hell are you?"

"In a short amount of time, you won't need to know," He answered, "You didn't have to get caught up in this if you didn't accompany the girl."

"You're here for her package?"

Then came a nod from the checkered-suited man. There was a bit of curiosity that demanded this foreigner's reason for accompanying a courier. "Yes, indeed. I got to ask, what reason do you have for being with her? You're not NCR or the Legion. As a matter of fact, your uniform isn't even around this place. Now give me a few words about which organization you're from."

Silence came after as he replied with nothing, but a cold stare. He was not surprised by that reaction. Soldiers always had a thing for maintaining secrecy and confidentiality for their governments.

"I suppose there is nothing left to say," Benny added as he reached for his holstered pistol underneath his jacket and fired a single round into his head, "Alright, let me see the courier."

McMurphy whistled out to his fellow tribal. "Let's get this over with."

The courier's sack was removed from her head as her dirtied glasses revealed a timid brunette glancing rapidly at her captors. All she could do was hyperventilate at the situation as the fear took over her. "You're probably wondering that you had the worst luck when we decided to pick you out of all the others."

He walked up to the scared girl as he went deep into her pockets and pulled out the very package he desired - a platinum chip. This simple item was worth more than thousands of bottlecaps that his Khans wanted. As he slipped the poker-styled chip into his coat, his pistol was aimed at her.

"The fact is, the game was rigged from the start."

A single shot echoed in the night, somehow louder than the one he killed the stranger with. It did not matter, Benny got what he had come for. The Khans would get their reward while he would get the true treasure that would decide the fate of nations. Then he glanced towards the Khan with spiked red hair.

"Jessup, make sure the sun doesn't find them. I'll pay extra if you tried."

The Khans quickly grabbed the bodies as they tossed them down into their graves. However, McMurphy began looting the man's corpse. "You don't mind if we take a few souvenirs?"

Benny holstered his nine-millimeter pistol. "Go ahead, I got mine."

No additional questions were asked as the corpse was desecrated for anything of value.

Exhibition's interactions with Novac and the Ghouls of REPCONN were improving and Artyom found himself grasping the language of the locals. Occasionally, Sukhoi would offer help whenever he could, but there were times his experience was lacking. Nonetheless, it improved the life of his home station ever since he oversaw the merchants and the station guards attached to them.

The merchants would make their way to sell their goods in exchange for a percentage of scrap and salvage they found at the old REPCONN facility. It was a good relationship; however, he noticed that the ghouls were less frequent with their presence and more focused on their desire to get into space. The young man did not mind their strange beliefs, but it was concerning that they were locked away into their corners of the building.

Artyom sat quietly at Novac's meal tent as he watched travelers come and go. He finally got to meet the soldiers of a nation called the NCR, but they were few and in-between. However, he learned that they were always heading to this supposedly famed city where one could get rich. Yet, he knew his place was with his people, helping them get better.

Every now and then, his mind would crawl back to the threat of the Dark Ones, but their disappearance made him question their motives. Their true motives remained unclear; however, they were rumored to have saved Hunter when those mutants ambushed him. Artyom was not fond of believing in such stories, but perhaps there was some degree of truth to them.

A rancher from the town had come over to his table with a cooked slab of meat with some strange fruit on the side. When he passed down the table, he thanked their efforts and began to enjoy the meal he received. The tongue was used to the taste of mushroom and pork that any of this brahmin steak and fruits seemed to be this gift from the heavens.

While the young man ate with gusto, a friend from his home had managed to find him. "There you are, Artyom! You're a lot harder to find now that Sukhoi put you in charge of trade around these parts."

He smiled at the enthusiastic greeting from his childhood friend. "Eugine, what brings you here?"

The short man with brown hair took a seat across from him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Get this, Sukhoi said that we need to expand our caravans. He wants you to head over to a town south of this place called Nipton. We should check it out together."

Artyom was not going to lie to himself. The position he found himself in was relatively calm compared to some of his postings as a sentry during the Dark One Crisis. Ironically, he hoped something exciting would force him into action, which never came. "Sure, let me ask some of the locals if they're willing to let us use their brahmin."

"Isn't that the meat you're eating?"

He looked down at his food and laughed. "Yeah, they're good to eat and they can be great pack animals from what I have heard."

"Ha, you better make sure if some of the locals pack some along the way. Let me ask some of the guys around and we'll be on our way."

Benny quietly sipped his drink in the Goodsprings bar as he inspected the platinum chip. His… employer, if he could properly refer him as that, had spent a fortune on this simple and significant piece. Its true purpose remained unknown; however, he knew the man who ruled New Vegas was vain enough to put a bit of effort in some nostalgia. Whatever he had in mind, Benny would take for himself. There was power in this simple chip and he would be the one to claim it.

The Great Khans were the complete opposite of him. They were rowdy in their behavior, often causing trouble whenever they went. Fortunately, the bartender was willing to entertain them with a few bottles as long as they could pay upfront. Though, the act of being civilized gentlemen was alien to these tribals. They thrived for the old ways, just like his Chairmen were, but Benny knew there was no future for them. Nations like the NCR would crush them if they were not busy with the occupation of the Mojave. The days of the wasteland tribal were coming to an end and he knew it. Wealth would not be in salvage and loot, but in business and customers. That is what the master of New Vegas taught him and those lessons were enough to keep him in the game of power.

He turned his gaze upon one of the Khans, who was miffed about the whole job itself. Jessup hadn't been himself ever since Chance… died from his wounds. The man had it coming. He was living in the past and could not keep his mind together unless he was fed with a needle of chems. Out of all the vices of mankind, drugs clouded judgment and Chance's inability to recognize that was his funeral in a sense. Sure, he had a grudge against the NCR ever since Bitter-Springs, but the past needed to stay in the past. Times were changing and the nostalgia could stay for so long until it loses its welcome.

One final sip of his glass and he finished his drink. Then he turned towards his company and grabbed their attention. "Gentlemen, finish up. I'm heading back to the Strip."

McMurphy paused the conversation between his people and stared at him with a bottle in hand. "What about our caps? We're not going our separate ways until you pay us."

"I know," He replied, "If I head back there, all of you will get your dues."

"Alright, give us a minute."

It was one thing to travel through the Metro tunnels on a trolly, but it is a totally different affair when it came to walking in the middle of a desert. Artyom brandished his rifle as he followed Eugine at the front. The cost took to get good pack animals was something Artyom had not expected. Apparently, the rancher in charge of them wanted to have sole access to feeding the VDNK Commonwealth with his cattle. It was a good deal; however, he would have to explain it to his stepfather as soon as he returned from his journey.

The roads here were in a complete state of disrepair. Thankfully, there was still some road that would allow the caravan to know which direction they needed to go. What made this strange world different from his was the fact that he didn't even have a map of the place. In the Metro, he could rely on some outdated maps with the guidance of some former train conductors to determine which routes were dangerous or collapsed. Here, he was reliant on the physical features of the environment in order to know his whereabouts.

Eugine wiped the sweat from his brow. "Hell, I forgot what it is like to sweat like a dog. When did you sweat like crazy?"

Artyom remembered the time when his shift from sentry duty to civilian activities came to his mind. "Would you believe me that cutting mushrooms would count?"

"You have a knife and mushrooms to cut, what is so bad about that?" He pointed out.

His thoughts always focused on that one detail that scarred him. "You would sweat if you had a chance to cut your fingers off."

Something strange echoed into the young man's gut as the caravan continued to walk. There was a wrongness that came over him as he looked to the hills on the group's right side. The last time Artyom felt this feeling was when he was dealing with the Dark Ones.

"Keep your head together, people. We might not be alone."

Then he noticed movement coming from behind a ridge. A lone feminine figure was creeping upon them with a strange tube in hand. As she readied her weapon, the young man lined up the sights of his rifle and fired. The bullet struck and knocked the assailant back before she launched a shot. Suddenly, the ground shook and dust kicked up behind him.

One of the caravan guards stated the obvious. "Take cover, ambush!"

The Russians quickly fled to the left side of the road, where the ditch would protect their pack animals and themselves from attack. Upon taking up positions behind road barricades and rocks, dozens of attackers appeared from the high ground. Automatic and rifle fire made their way down from the heights, but Artyom and the others were fortunately quick enough to respond in kind. The new world weaponry clashing against Soviet ingenuity as bandits and raiders were being pitted against militia and former Red Navy sailors.

Artyom pulled back the bolt on his Paciencia and chambered a new round. The ambush, while planned, seemed to dissolve into a disorganized charge. His eyes looked for a new target, only to find that a fraction of the enemies were wielding firearms while others were desperate enough to use blades and blunt weapons.

Eugine let out a few rapid bursts from his Bastard as his barrel began to smoke from the fire. "It had to be bandits."

The enemy continued to press their initiative, closing the distance with eagerness. Yet, they were unable to fulfill their desire when additional firepower ripped through them as the bandits reached the road. Russian eyes looked around for the help that came to their aid. On the left flank, soldiers in a different set of uniforms had revealed themselves. Most of the contingent were mainly infantry with semi-auto rifles while the rest seemed like cowboys from old American films.

The young man watched in awe as the foreign soldiers joined them in repelling the assault. Those that had survived the onslaught against them and the Russians had fled from the ambush sight.

One of the strangers walked up to caravan as she slung her rifle over his shoulder. Unlike the souls who were wearing helmets and goggles, she wore a red beret and pair of shades over her eyes. "You guys should consider yourselves lucky that we were passing through."

Artyom rose up from the ditch and lowered his rifle. "Who... are... you?"

"Corporal Betsy of 1st Recon Battalion. Our unit is making its way to Camp McCarran, owned by the New Californian Republic," She added as her gaze seemed to learn more about him than he did about her, "You're new here, aren't you?"

"Yeah, you could say that," There was not really a way to explain the strange anomalous portal from the old REPCONN facility. It was never his to position to ask how that was possible, "Did you just pass through from Nipton?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, sir. It shouldn't be hard to miss. You keep heading south and take the southwest routes when you can afford the extra effort."

He gave out his hand. "Thank you for the rescue, I appreciate the help."

Betsy reached out and exchanged a shake of hands. "No problem, give us a holler if you're passing through. Maybe your caravan could give our unit some decent stuff."

Eugine quickly joined him as he brandished one of the weapons from the fallen assailants. "Not going to lie, some of their guns are worth looking into. Do you mind if we spend a bit of extra time and loot it off of them?"

Artom looked at the weapon in his friend's hand before approving, "Go ahead, we might as well look for the a camping spot while we're at it."

Author's Note: It's relatively shorter than the other chapters, but it still served its purpose. Now I do need to explain that there has been a time skip roughly ranging between three days to two weeks.

Now I did notice that a few discrepancies in the timeline in comparison to what I did in this fic, but the offense is pretty minor organize a rewrite. There will be moments where I'll take liberties with the timeline.

Imperial Stormtrooper: It could also be the stress as well. Sometimes, you get soldiers who feel like they're in their thirties but are in their early twenties.

Da Lone Ranger: Desperation is the father of scavenging. Somebody using a museum piece as weapon isn't out of place for both of these settings.

89ingenting: I'm glad I'm being decent with some of the characters. Trying my hand again with a Metro/Fallout crossover has always enthralled me because you have the reactions of two different post-apocalypse settings and societies clash with one another. Plus, you get to see the weird moments like how the Moscow Metro factions use bullets for a currency when compared to the Fallout factions being reliant on bottlecaps.