Morning came while Artyom relaxed in the outpost's barracks. Sitting alone at the bar, he ordered two shots of vodka from a woman whose skin almost resembled the color of brass. When she returned from pouring the contents out for him, the bartender smiled and gave him a wink about his request. "Looks like you'll be trouble later on, kid."

An NCR trooper approached the bar from the left as he hailed her. Once she left to attend to other customers, the young man was left to his thoughts as he separated the two glass cups with one occupying a spot on the counter beside an empty seat beside him and the other in front of him. The events around Nipton remained on his mind despite departing from the empty town. Among the many dead soldiers under his watch, Eugene was among them. His mind ran through the possibilities of what could have been done to prevent his friend from such a needless death. Yet, the fact of the matter was, he could have accepted that he wasn't a hero. He was going to return to Exhibition and people were going to ask what happened to some of their friends and family members who joined this trip. All it did was make the guilt even harder to accept.

What would his stepfather think of him had he returned empty-handed? He had been given a simple task but somehow screwed up his original mission. The only fortune that remained was the fact that the rest of his men still obeyed his position of command out of respect for his father. Those who personally knew him were well aware of his shy nature and his focus on reading books and listening to stories of real men who made them. If anything, it was going to embarrass Sukhoi's political position that the child that he raised let his people down.

Artyom's every thought gave him one more reason to hate himself for it. Then he looked down at the two shots of vodka before he grabbed his share and drank one cup in a single sitting. The alcoholic fire burned through his veins as he kept himself from burping. All that was left was to raise his empty glass to the friend who died in his arms in quiet defeat as a leader. "For Exhibition."

A rowdy woman came out from a room to his right while stretching her arms in the air in tattered jeans and a brown leather jacket. Then Cass noticed him before yawning. "Drinking this early? I love my whisky but not as much as you like vodka."

"Having a sip on behalf of a friend," He stated the obvious before grabbing the second glass for his own sake. The Metro mentality taught him to never waste anything if you couldn't help it. Now that he wasn't alone, it was time to finish his quiet affairs before the rest of the outpost awoke from their slumber. Though, he wasn't sure of what to do with the caravan ever since the town was razed, "I don't know how to make a profit since I originally came to Nipton. Any advice?"

"If you're trying to avoid going into the read, I highly recommend heading over to Primm and Goodsprings." The woman said while taking a stool seat on his right.

Her experience was valuable and the young man had to appreciate it for helping himself out of the gutter. While he could put names together, he had to grasp the direction. "Where are they exactly."

"Primm is straight north of here and Goodsprings is further than that. You would have to pass by the NCR Correctional Facility and take the route that goes left. It's a small town but the folk there won't mind the additional business."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Artyom gratefully stated before catching a warm smile underneath that hat of hers.

"No problem," She looked back at the door to see it closed, "But you better get going before the authorities wake up."

"What are you talking about?"

He was confused by the nature of her statement. "Ranger Jackson is being a bit of a bureaucratic ass. Right now, he's stopping caravans from leaving the outpost until he's got an all-clear to let caravans out - NCR or not - he's trapping us here. Last night, he took my papers and isn't handing them back. He's going for everyone else, go while you still can."

"Ladna, looks like this is where we part ways," Artyom realized before gulping the second shot of vodka into his gullet and slamming the glass on the counter. He gathered his belongings and swiveled his chair away before nodding his head towards the woman, "Good luck."

"Just so you know, I'll think about that offer of yours. I'm sorry that I was a pain in the ass yesterday. Lots of guys like to believe they have a chance of sleeping with me."

He chuckled at her reference. Nice knowing that he managed to reach out to strangers in need before exchanging one last look at her. Soon after, the Russian stepped out of the building and began to rally his men for a trip to the north.

The departure of the ghouls had become a boon to the people of Exhibition. As they benefited from trading scrap materials with the people of Novac, Sukhoi found the only bottleneck was the anomaly that connected his world with this. This strange land was beyond him. Yet, he would readily prepare for the eventualities that the duty of station commander often tackled.

He stood atop a bridge overlooking the highway below him. Regiments of NCR troopers marched from the south in their brown leather armor. Some even carried the flags of the nation with them as they made their way to the north where the city of New Vegas resided. The war within the region worried him and the middle-aged man almost missed dealing with the Dark Ones… almost. They were a familiar threat he had dealt with but what news of the conflict in the Mojave made the man smoke in the view of a green dinosaur, whose mouth was occupied by snipers.

Listening in on the marching and singing of the NCR troopers making their way to war, reminded him of better days before the bombs fell. The Red Square would be filled with hundreds of soldiers moving in unison in parade formations as the city of Moscow - and by extension, the rest of the motherland celebrated their finest in public. What has become of that nation now? A shadow of its former self with the famed Red Army consisting of nothing more than a collection of fortunate souls or damned servants. As head of Exhibition station, the weight of his people's survival rested on him.

A pair of footsteps accompanied him as he swiped the sweat from his brow and turned to the arrival from his left. He was met by a relatively younger man wearing a red beret, khaki pants, and a dirty white shirt. His eyes were masked away by a pair of shades as he approached the station commander. This stranger was one of the local snipers protecting the town of Novac. "It's not safe here. There are dangerous things coming from the east."

"To be fair, I've been watched over by some careful marksmen." Sukhoi's head turned around and focused on the hilly and mountainous terrain leading into the Grand Canyon. It would have been a beautiful sight had it not been for the rotting bodies lying out in the open.

"Even we can make mistakes. The only reason you haven't been caught is because my partner is good but he can also fail as well."

"Nobody's perfect. That's an understandable position for you." Soon the middle-aged man realized that this was one of the men whose wife was almost kidnapped by a massive army across the canyon. That was before his adoptive son came and rescued her from their clutches. Curious, he wanted to get to know him, "Apologies but I don't believe you and I have personally met."

"Boone, Craige Boone. My partner and I were snipers of the NCR's First Recon Battalion. That was before our papers expired and we decided to settle down here." It made sense that a town like this had survived under their watch. They too were veterans from their respective wars. He understood that background very well given that he was once part of the Guard Rifles in the pre-war days.

"It's an honor to meet you from one veteran to another. Call me Sukhoi, I'm the station commander of Exhibition from Moscow."

While his eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses, the man raised his eyebrow and that was enough to signal Boone's surprise. "Moscow? That's in Russia, right? What are people like you doing here?"

"It's a long story," He answered while exchanging looks at the surrounding area, and not another contingent of NCR troops marched out from the shadow of the overpass. The strange anomaly that brought the Polis Rangers and his people was difficult to grasp before he gradually summoned the courage to convey the strangeness of this world. Nothing about this Mojave was normal, "We encountered a strange phenomenon from our metro system. A group of strange creatures in green and blue skin attacked us before we helped clear it out with the ghouls. Don't know how it came to be or why such an anomaly occurred but now we are here."

"I've heard many things in my service but this seems to top that off. Would have to take a look at that after I check on Carla." Sniper expressed while maintaining his professional demeanor.

"Wife I presume?"

He gave a nod. "She was the one the slavers were going to kidnap that night. One of your men caught them in the act."

"That was my son, Artyom. I heard about it when I was back in the Metro." It was brief but Sukhoi caught the man's smile before his rigid attitude returned.

"Give him my thanks. Carla, she means a lot to me. It's the reason why I decided to settle down out here."

Where was he going with this conversation? This American, if he could truly call him that at this point, seemed to be leading the conversation elsewhere. "I sense that there's a but."

"We always have a sniper posted in the dinosaur watching the roads to the east. If it isn't me, it's Manny. Anytime Caesar's men are out on patrol, they're generally in our line of sight. When they tried to kidnap my wife, they knew what route to take that wouldn't get them caught," The Russian didn't know what to expect from that as he crossed his arms and turned his body to face him. It seemed serious and important security detail for a place like this abandoned motel, "Someone in Novac, a local, helped them out from the inside."

"That's quite the accusation. Why are you coming up to me with this information?"

"Because you and your men are out of town, complete strangers. I need a fresh pair of eyes if you're willing to help me out."

His logic was sound and it was safe to say it was reasonable. Who could blame him for being so concerned after what occurred with his wife? Novac had done well to grant him and his people a comfortable existence, much to the jealousy of others. Yet, it took a moment to realize that if someone was willing to sell one of their own to a hostile force, how much more for his people? It was a matter that had to be dealt with extreme prejudice. "I'll see what I can do and what strings I can pull. No guarantees but I'll solve that problem of yours."

"Thanks. Don't know how I'll repay you but if you need anything, I'll return the favor."

The Exhibition-Novac caravan began to enter the first town on their way north, although, it was on a somber note since Nipton. Artyom led a vanguard of thirteen men as the rest remained with the merchants. Since their previous experience, the Russians were much more cautious as they methodically marched up the ramp and split up on both sides of the road. Once the top was reached, the group shifted to the right and fireteams were hastily organized with the empty streets.

Soon the head of the caravan ordered four men to take the left flank towards the north of the town and another four to secure the right to the south. The remaining six proceeded into the center of the settlement as the young man kept his index finger by the trigger of his rifle. They advanced to the front of what seemed to be a downtrodden hotel. Behind it was a broken roller coaster ride in a state of disrepair, never to be serviced for it's original purpose. Meanwhile, the right side of the building contained a corner building that appeared to be a store and a mail office. A body was laid out front, the corpse in a pair of blue overalls slumped against the windowsill.

"Motherfuckers! Get out of the casino before we storm the place and kill you!" A man shouted ahead and from around the corner on the left side of the road. Then came three heavy knocks against wooden floorboards before they heard an angry yell.

Artyom looked to his right to see two of his men on their side of the sidewalk pause before making hand gestures. They silently messaged him that there were three hostiles around the corner of the building. He was fortunate that they had the element of surprise on them as he messaged the group to wait on his command for a full-fledged assault. Stealing a look from his watch, the caravan leader waited five seconds and signaled the countdown with his fingers.

When the last second reached zero, he clenched his hand into a fist and rallied his comrades. The veterans and militiamen of Exhibition Station were quick to assert dominance in the space as they drew their firearms and methodically looked around the corner. What they found were three men dressed in blue tattered uniforms with their weapons consisting of pistols and police batons. Out from the far side of the building, came the men of the left flank as they immediately closed the distance and surrounded the trio in front of a pair of doors. "Shit, shit! Who the fuck are these guys?!"

"Drop your weapons." Came a calm request from Artyom as his Paciencia was aimed at one of the uniformed men, this time he was wearing a helmet almost similar to the NCR soldiers.

"To hell with that, we're not going to prison!"

The men in his sights were all too eager to draw their sidearms. The instinctual reaction took over as the soldiers of the VDNK Commonwealth opened fire. Shotgun shells ejected and automatic fire rattled in front of the building as the three were cut down in the initial burst. Once the deed was officially done, their barrels smoked while the bodies profusely leaked blood across the pavement.

A radio hail from the caravan called out to him. "We heard gunfire. What's going on?"

His hand reached for the radio on his person. "More bandits but just three guys. They were trying to break into one of the buildings. We're investigating."

"Ladna. The brahmin is almost up the ramp," The older man responded, "Notify us of any developments."

The stench of the bodies reached Artyom's nose but one of the doors cracked open slightly. Every armed soldier turned on it, with weapons at the ready. Somebody on the inside was heard walking towards the opening until a middle-aged bald man revealed himself to the outside world. "Who are you?"

"Passing caravaners. We stumbled upon your town and these misfits. I take that you're the locals." The head of the convoy answered while lowering his rifle. He began to walk over the dead as a form of trust while getting close to hear what he had to say.

"There's more outside but they're holed up in the hotel across the street. Step inside, it's not safe out there."

"I appreciate the heads up," Artyom grabbed his radio and relayed the situation to the rest of the caravan, "Be advised, a local informed me that we have multiple hostiles at the hotel building. Remain at the entrance, I say again, remain at the entrance."

The door swung inside as the stranger revealed himself in a white shirt and blue overalls. Goggles hung from his neck while a foreign revolver design was at his side aimed towards him. Past the man was a stand containing a car in the center of the room while surrounded by a series of gambling tables and machines. While their seats were never occupied, the building was home to at least twenty people, all of whom had their guns trained on him. "I don't know what brought you folk here but Primm is in a sand basket set to Hell."

"Let's say that I'm new to the region. What is going on?"

"There was a prison up north and they all had a break-out. All the guards who ain't dead have run off and Powder Gangers are all running around causing havoc on the area. NCR was supposed to handle them but we got no sign of troops coming over."

"I take that the men who occupied the hotel and tried to break in were part of their group." If the situation was that bad out here then it made sense that a town like this had its people hiding out in this building. They were overrun with chaos and anarchy.

"Yes sir, indeed. Bastards even kidnapped our deputy, shameless as he is." From the way it was worded, Artyom could tell this man didn't have much of a good opinion on whoever this deputy was.

This part of the Mojave was a mess and it seemed to get worse with every minute he spent living in it. If bandits were so relevant that the authorities couldn't deal with it, there was no way he would settle on pressing onward even with Cass' advice. "Well, so much for trading. I don't want to leave empty-handed, I also don't want to get caught up with the mess occurring out here."

"You're a lot more armed than most merchants. I wouldn't be too eager to admit defeat for folk like you." Said a man, who replied from the back of the room. His eyes readjusted to the yellow lighting of the building as the stranger stepped through the crowd in a black and white checkered suit. Behind him was a retinue of rough men in black jackets and pants, some even wore horned helmets atop their scalps. Yet, on the back of their clothes was a symbol of the terrifying face of a warrior while the name 'Great Khans' was labeled underneath him, "Unless you're fink or work with the NCR, they'll know better than to attack you outright."

"And you are?" He didn't want to be disrespectful to the man and his entourage but the foreigner's tone involved a hint of arrogance. Soon the stranger approached him while brandishing a cigarette and pulling out an engraved lighter.

"Benny. I'm a member of the Chairmen from one of the three head families in New Vegas. If you're gonna do business, that's where I head if I were you."

"I was also told that Goodsprings is a decent place."

"Trading is like gambling. That town's a safe bet, no two ways about it but it will never amount to what you can get in the city of lights." One of the Khans tapped whispered into his ear. It seemed important enough to have him give a quick nod before stealing a glance at the old man standing between him and the caravaner, "Johnson Nash, I'm sorry what happened to your town but I got to go. Business to take care of, you see."

"If that's the case, safe travels then." The old man said as the Great Khans marched out of the room. Artyom caught a glimpse of an Altyn helmet and a VSV on their person but didn't voice his concern. Perhaps they bought it off at Novac but he wasn't paying attention.

Benny was the last one to leave but stopped to get one look at the young man. "You're not the first Russian I've encountered lately. If there is ever a time you ever come over to the Strip, presuming you're rich enough to get past the checkpoint, I recommend that you visit the Tops casino. There's never a shortage of businesses looking to make some caps."

"I'll take you up on that offer." He replied, knowing that Exhibition could still find ways to survive out here if the Mosco Metro somehow deteriorated worse than what occurred in this part of the world, "I hope we cross paths again."

"That's all for lady luck to decide. Adios, amigo."

Not much was to be said after the well-dressed man stepped out and departed from the casino.

Rizhskaya had become a bottleneck for traffic when compared to what occurred throughout the rest of the Metro. Sure, many flocked to Teatralnaya to entertain themselves with the delights of the Bolshoi but that was for those who could spend the bullets on the frivolous things in life. For your average worker who couldn't obtain that way of life, the southernmost station of the VDNK Commonwealth had attracted the hardworking into its clutches. Never the ideal but it was a great place for an honest man's wages.

Bourbon sat quietly by the corner of the room sipping his beer in silence. Stalkers were flocking over to one of the northern stations throughout the former train system - Exhibition. Small collections of scavengers, both amateurs and experienced were offering their services as mercenaries to the locals. He had heard rumors about strange mutants attacking the place and it would make sense for them to deal with it.

Those people had a reputation for having the ideal way of running a station both efficiently and ethically. Alongside such was their mushroom tea, being a genuine commodity for merchants throughout the tunnels. Yet, he wasn't going to settle that these adventurous killers were going there for an interview. Some unexplainable event was happening and they were willing to pay cartridges for hired guns.

Not that he had much of a choice for himself. The Hanseatic League had locked down their ring after news of foreign subterfuge cells was brought to light. Who it was, nobody in the public would know, only that the chances of another war breaking out between Hansa and the Red Line were grim possibility. However, there were other reasons for Bourbon to not head south and get in their crossfires.

Money.

He had a debt with the guards of the ring stations and his reputation was poor one at that. Hansa tended to lockdown their stations, much to the annoyance of others, so they could prioritize the trade traffic of their trains. It also served as a rather ruthless way of killing profits for foreign merchant groups throughout the Metro, which in turn had the secondary effect of hurting the competition of dealing with traders, not in line with the faction's guidelines. Those who had the bullets would try to circumvent that problem by bribing the guards to let them through, skimming off the top of such wealth. Unfortunately for him, he was not such a company.

By every right, they could have arrested him and have him dig pig shit for the rest of his days as punishment thanks to the rates he was forced to pay. Yet, they didn't for the sake of being greedy bastards themselves. Every one of those soldiers wanted to milk what little wages he earned until it was clear that his pockets were finally empty. The days he would come back from the surface and obtain his pay would be knocked down by corrupt guards eager to prolong his economic suffering. Smart stalkers would have tried to have a permit but that also meant that he would be on Hansa's payroll and have to remain in the ring stations. Even they wouldn't suffer the effects of bribing officials and their thugs thanks to their expertise.

Taking a trolley caravan to the south would be the end of him and Bourbon was not going to let them ruin what little life he had in the darkness. After all, he didn't survive the horrors of the Zone just to die like this, terrible as his luck had always been.

The bar had been filled by stalkers trying to pass the time as the next scheduled route to the north had been ready. He had overheard conversations among the local officials that they were planning on a tax but there had been pushback due to the business that everyone had been receiving. The station had seen better days and the survivors understood what they were going through since Rizhskaya was the poorest of the few stations that allied together.

Across the room was the sound of heavy footsteps coming up from the first floor as a man in a black sweater and green military pants arrived in the room. His short black hair made him distinct as one of the few people whose hair hadn't fallen out after years of radiation. He approached the bar to the right and handed an old bartender in dirty white sheets two cartridges. They appeared to have exchanged a quiet conversation with one another as Bourbon stole a glance from the rest of the room to find dozens of stalkers aware of the newcomer.

Soon, the bartender backed away as the middle-aged stranger turned around and folded arms across his chest to address the men in the room. "You all stalkers waiting for the job up north?"

Everyone looked at him, even the drunk and sleepy regained control of themselves to look upon him with attention. One person asked. "You here to take us?"

"Yep. The next trolly set is waiting for you guys by the platform. Here is what is going to happen, you'll be taking a one-way trip to Exhibition. You'll even run through Alexeyevskaya like shitting on the crapper after some bad pork. There will be no stopping. So if you need to take a leak, take it right now by the restrooms. Any questions?"

"What are the tunnels like both day and night?" Another asked but it was a good one that had to be asked for the dangers of the Metro came in a multitude of ways.

"The direct routes are the most secure. We have checkpoints in between and have lit up the tunnel thanks to some extra resources on hand. None of you have to worry about the regular trash like mutants but we do have some secondary routes that you'd have to keep your head on a swivel if it gets blocked." Bourbon had to admit it was a nice experience when a station official had their shit in order. Sometimes, nepotism is at play, and there some poor bastard in charge because his cousin was part of the Red Line's party or had close connections with the echelons of the Fourth Reich, "Any other questions?"

If there was any, none seemed to arise from the crowd of heavily armed and armored men. Safe to say, the good questions were dealt with.

"Okay, once you arrive at Exhibition, the station commander will give you a brief of the situation and your pay. We'll give you fifteen minutes to get yourselves in order before we set off. Understand?"

Many heads nodded, including Bourbon as the official smiled.

"Good hunting, stalkers."

Primm was left to its fate, much to Artyom's regret. Johnson Nash asked him to rescue the town's deputy from the convicts but the truth was that the caravan had to be prioritized over his heroics. Part of him wanted to go out of his way to save the poor man in captivity but it would delay his schedule and Sukhoi would wonder what had become of his son. There was also the matter that he had spent too many good men killing the Legion, more than he anticipated.

A long stretch of road lay before him with very little human presence while large mutated scattered in the open. Some even fell upon each other as the convoy of Russian soldiers watched the cruelties of Mother Nature first-hand. Strange bug-like creatures crawled or flew across the desert, only for them to be ambushed by fast-crawling geckos snatching them up and returning to their dens. All were the size of dogs, a disturbing sight at the very least but it was a mild improvement compared to what they were used to.

Nosalises and watchmen were the monsters that crawled in the remains of human civilization. The former were underground-dwelling creatures that evolved from a relatively peaceful species into absolute killers who did not hesitate to swipe at a man with their claws. Meanwhile, the latter lived on the surface amid the emptiness of Moscow. Both were a threat to what little habitation the survivors had for themselves given that they always operated in packs and took some serious firepower to dispatch. It was one of the reasons why their revolvers were molded or designed around the more western .44 Magnum designs as the mere indigenous Nagants lacked the killing ability to put one of these critters in the ground.

The sun rose high above the men while Artyom scanned his surroundings. His west flank contained a series of hills and beyond them, a mountain range overlooking their position. Yet, it was the right flank that drew his absolute attention compared to whatever they encountered. News of a prison breakout was enough to keep him on his toes as the threat loomed over his shoulders.

Then he saw the very facility from whence these Powder Gangers hailed from. There were two layers of fences with the outer fences being disconnected and destroyed by their exposure to nature. The inner layer revealed three buildings within its perimeter and one acting as a transfer between the yard and the rest of the world. However, they were not alone as sentry towers provided a solid overwatch across the open terrain save for the hills overlooking them. It was the perfect fortress for those convicts.

He looked ahead of the road to find that there was a campsite on the right side of the road, which contained three broken vehicles surrounding its occupants. In any other context, it would have been a welcoming sight until he caught a glimpse of eight tattered blue prison uniforms on the former prisoners. They were quick to see new arrivals in the surrounding area before several broke off around the campfire and seemingly prepared to block their way.

One from their gang stood in front of the others but wore a black armor vest across his chest. The Hispanic man had a machine pistol in his hand as he gestured for them to stop. "Hello gringos! You got to stop right there."

Artyom moved to the front of the caravan with his rifle lowered but he wouldn't hesitate to get into a gunfire if the lives of his men depended on it. "You must be the Powder Gangers?"

"Eh? You've heard of us?" The man with the disheveled hair was taken aback before his expression broke out into a smile and stole a look from his gang, "Would you look at that boys, we got ourselves a reputation. If you want to move along, you have to pay the toll. Hand over your goods and caps then we'll all be on our merry way."

"No." They didn't survive Nipton to deal with this nonsense.

"You really want to do this, pendejo? All this territory belongs to the Powder Gangers and Eddie ain't going to like some merchants thinking they're all tough and shit."

One of the men behind him walked over and spoke up, "I don't think they're your run-of-the-mill caravan we've dealt with before."

"What are you talking about?" The leader asked as he turned around and was confused that one of his own was questioning him.

"Boxcars came back and said a caravan attacked and survived Caesar's Legion. I think this might be them because they look a bit too armed to guard merchants."

He turned around and revealed his puzzled look at Artyom. "Did you guys fight off the Legion?"

The Russian nodded his head and answered him in complete silence. He wasn't sure what to expect, only that there seemed to be a bit of hesitation to jump his people.

"Well call me gecko shit because if you did what you say you did, then you can move along."

"Didn't Eddie say it's our job to stop anyone who we come across," Another one of the Powder Gangers asked, reminding them of their job, "He won't be happy if we let these guys through?"

"Eddie ain't here and anyone who casually fucks with the Legion and lives has to be either a stupid and lucky motherfucker or an absolute badass. I ain't taking a bet that these guys are stupid." He was voicing his reservations about engaging in their usual bandit activities; however, Artyom had to be sure the man was certainly not going to fire on them.

"I take you're going to jump us," He hinted before continuing to keep the conversation relatively peaceful, "You letting us pass."

The Latino man quickly nodded as he gestured for his gang to move aside. "Oh yeah, I'm not fucking around with you."

When the road was clear of the armed convicts, the caravan proceeded past them as the heavily armed and armored contingent of Exhibition soldiers moved past them. It seemed that whatever happened on that fateful night that Eugene had died seemed to reach the ears of people in the surrounding areas. Still, he would need to make the journey back and Artyom was worried that he would not receive that same treatment once again.

It was a bridge he had yet to cross since Goodsprings was further north. The pack animals could use rest after the situation surrounding Primm. Until then, the matter of trade needed to be conducted on behalf of everyone at home.

The journey must not end in vain.

Author's Note: I decided to play things differently in this rewrite regarding Benny. Artyom didn't have the same motivational reasons to go after the Chairmen outside of reclaiming a Kalashnikov. So, I went out of my way to make things even a bit more personal, much more for him than the Courier who was shot in the head.

Da Lone Ranger: Oh, definitely. It doesn't help that stalkers are flocking over to get themselves hired.

Imperial Stormtrooper: I haven't really figured out how to tackle the Courier yet until recently. I didn't want to rehash her character in the same way I handled her in the previous version but I also didn't want to let her stay dead on behalf of the DLC plotlines looking at me weirdly.