Sergeant Carter and Corporal Nora left the command center, heading toward the barracks. The evening air had cooled a little, but the strange events of the day still weighed heavy on their minds.
A few paces behind they could hear heavy stomp's , looking behind them they saw that, Elder Danes was already making his way towards a Brotherhood vertibird idling on a nearby helipad, its engines slowly spinning up, the two pilots already waiting in the cockpit.
Carter watched him for a moment. "Guess he's not sticking around long."
"Wouldn't expect him to," Nora muttered. "Brotherhood's got its own mess to deal with."
.....
"I don't know about you," Nora continued, "but that's one of the weirdest things I've heard in my life ."
Carter grunted in agreement. "Two guys from Moscow showing up in the middle of the Commonwealth? Yeah… not something you hear every day."
As they neared the market, they spotted Reyes lounging at a weathered wooden picnic table nearby, a half-eaten Brahmin steak on his plate and a cold Nuka-Cola bottle in hand. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw them.
"Reyes," Carter called out as they approached, "where're Ellis and Hollis?"
Reyes took a swig of his drink before answering. "They're over at the barracks, sir. Cleaned their gear and grabbing a shower."
Carter and Nora exchanged a look — both of them feeling the grime and sweat clinging to their uniforms after the long day.
"Good idea," Carter muttered. "Let's head over. Could use a hot rinse myself."
Nora nodded, and the two continued on toward the barracks, leaving the din of the market behind.
Reaching the barracks, Carter and Nora spotted Ellis and Hollis stepping outside, both dressed in clean fatigues and looking noticeably fresher.
As the pair approached, Ellis and Hollis straightened and snapped a salute.
"Sir," they greeted in unison.
Carter returned a curt nod. "Everything done?"
"Yes, sir," Hollis replied. "Weapons cleaned, gear stowed, and we grabbed a shower. Fresh clothes too."
Carter gave them a quick once-over, then nodded in approval.
"Good. You're both off duty for the rest of the day. Don't get into trouble."
"Thank you, sir!" the two replied together, grinning before heading off toward the market.
-- With Sergei, Nikolai and the General --
Back inside the briefing room, the atmosphere was heavy but calm. The conversation had already stretched on for a while, Sergei recounting what he could about life in the Metro, its dangers, and the fractured world beneath Moscow. Now, it seemed, the General was ready to clarify a few remaining points.
Leaning forward in his chair, the General rested his arms on the table. "Alright, Sergei — just so I've got this straight. You said the bombs fell… in 2013?"
Sergei nodded. "Yes, October… 2013. Metro… we survive underground since then."
The General sights and said . "Here , the Great War happened in 2077. Over two hundred years ago." He let that hang in the air for a moment. "If your people went underground in 2013… then something's not adding up."
Sergei frowned, brow's furrowed. "I… do not know how this happen. One day, Metro. Next, this place."
The General continued, his tone firm but fair. "And you've never seen energy weapons? Laser rifles? Plasma weapons? Or power armor?"
Sergei shook his head. "No… no such things in Metro. Old guns, simple weapons. Armor… but not like your soldiers wear."
The General tapped a few buttons on the device strapped to his arm, the soft glow of the Pip-Boy's screen reflecting off the table's surface. A faint click sounded as he stopped the recording.
Sergei's gaze settled on the device, curiosity sparking in his tired eyes. "What… is that?" he asked, gesturing toward the Pip-Boy.
The General raised his wrist slightly, offering a small, almost proud smile. "This? It's called a Pip-Boy. Personal Information Processor. Old tech from before the war — keeps records, maps, communications… about as reliable as it gets in this wasteland."
Sergei leaned in slightly, fascinated. "We have nothing like this."
The General's expression softened a little. "I figured." He glanced toward Nikolai, who sat silently nearby, visibly uneasy, unable to follow the conversation. The General gave Sergei a nod. "Tell your friend he's safe here. We'll sort this out."
Sergei nodded and spoke to Nikolai in Russian, his voice calm and steady. Nikolai's anxious posture eased, though his eyes still scanned the unfamiliar room.
The General sat in silence for a few moments after Sergei finished speaking with Nikolai , his brow furrowed in thought. The weight of the situation settled over him like a lead blanket , people from the Metro in Moscow, a different history, creatures never seen in Commonwealth, and implications that could affect the safety of every settlement under Minutemen protection.
He finally straightened in his chair and looked Sergei in the eye. "Alright," he began, his voice firm but measured. "You and the boy will be staying here in Sanctuary Hills for the time being. I need to meet with other high-ranking members of the Minutemen , and we'll decide what action to take next. Once we've reached a decision, I'll call for you again."
Sergei gave a slow nod. "Understood, General. And… thank you. For your generosity."
The General waved a hand dismissively, though a small, tight smile crossed his face. "You're guests in my settlement now. And guests should be treated well." He reached into a drawer, retrieved a couple of small leather pouches, and slid them across the table. "Here, twenty-five caps each. Not much, but it'll let you get a hot meal, maybe something for yourselves at the market. Just… stay out of trouble until we speak again."
Sergei accepted the pouch with a polite incline of his head. "We will. No trouble."
Leaving the briefing room, the General gestured to one of the guards posted by the entrance door. "Escort them to some empty quarters, but first, take them by the settlement hospital. They don't look like they've had proper medical care in a while."
The guard saluted firmly ."Yes, sir."
As Sergei and Nikolai were led out of the command center, the General turned toward the open doorway of the nearby radio room. "Get on the horn to Preston Garvey and the rest of the officer's ," he ordered the radio operator. "Tell them we've got a situation , and I want them here for a meeting as soon as they can make it."
"Yes, General," the operator replied, already reaching for the headset.
The General took a deep breath and glanced once more at the now empty doorway, his thoughts already racing ahead to the meeting that would come. Whatever this was ,it was bigger than just two strangers wandering out in the wastes.
--- With Carter and his squad ---
The evening settled comfortably over Sanctuary Hills. The market's scattered stalls were quieting down, but the smell of cooked Brahmin and the low hum of Diamond City Radio lingered in the air.
At a worn wooden picnic table near the market, Reyes, Hollis, and Ellis were gathered around a deck of faded playing cards. Few half-empty bottles of Nuka-Cola and plates of roasted Brahmin.
Diamond City Radio crackled in the background, a smooth pre-war tune barely covering the occasional burst of static.
Reyes laid down a winning hand with a smug grin.
"Full house, boys. Pay up," he teased, leaning back with a swig of his cola.
"Son of a—" Hollis muttered, tossing a couple of caps into the growing pile in the center. Ellis groaned and leaned his elbows on the table.
It was in that moment Carter and Nora approached, both looking clean, relaxed, and out of uniform. Carter smirked.
"Room for a couple more?"
"Always, sir," Reyes said, shuffling the cards again as the two pulled up seats.
Carter and Nora took seats, grabbing bottles of Nuka-Cola as Reyes dealt them in. Laughter and easy conversation carried them through a couple of hands, the tension of the day easing.
After a lull, Ellis frowned slightly and spoke up.
"So… that Russian guy. Moscow or whatever… I don't really know what that is."
The table quieted for a second. Hollis shrugged.
"Not surprised. Nobody really does these days. Anything folks know about the old world comes from a few ghouls that remember before the bombs dropped… or from the lucky vaults that hung on to history books."
Reyes leaned forward, tapping a finger against the table.
"My grandma said she met a ghoul once in Goodneighbor who talked about Russia. Said it was cold as hell, tough people, and they drank something called vodka like it was Nuka cola . But who knows what's true anymore."
The card game stretched on, full of lighthearted jabs, laughing over bad hands, and Diamond City Radio's scratchy songs drifting through the warm night air. Empty bottles clinked together on the table, the scent of cooked meat still hanging nearby as they swapped stories about patrols, old scavenging finds, and rumors of Mirelurk nests along the river.
Reyes tossed another hand onto the table with a victorious grin.
"That's three in a row. You're all making this too easy."
"Beginner's luck," Nora smirked, taking a swig of Nuka-Cola.
The conversation shifted from patrol routes to old world oddities .
Then Hollis, glancing down the street, squinted.
"Hey… check it out."
The others followed his gaze. Down the main road, under the flickering light of a lantern post, Sergei and Nikolai walked slowly behind a Minuteman soldier. Sergei looked pale, his expression drawn, while Nikolai seemed even worse — unsteady on his feet, eyes darting anxiously as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings.
Carter sat forward slightly, frowning.
"Yeah… they don't look good."
"Guess they're heading to the clinic," Reyes added, watching them disappear down the road. "Makes sense. They looked like hell when we first found them."
Ellis nodded, resting his elbows on the table.
"Poor bastards. Whatever world they crawled out of… it ain't doing them any favors."
The group fell quiet for a moment, a rare thoughtful pause in their evening of easy laughter and cards. Then Carter gave a small shrug and picked up his cards.
"Alright — deal me in. I'm about to win my caps back."
Reyes chuckled and reshuffled the deck, the game resuming under the glow of lanterns and the steady hum of the radio.
--- With Sergei and Nikolai ---
Sergei and Nikolai followed the Minuteman through the settlement. Their tired footsteps echoed faintly against the cracked concrete, the sounds of laughter and music from the market slowly fading.
They soon reached a modest-looking building marked by a weathered metal sign that read Sanctuary Medical Center. The soldier pushed open the door and motioned for them to enter.
Inside, Sergei and Nikolai both halted for a moment, wide-eyed.
The walls were made of clean, reinforced metal panels, painted a stark white that gleamed under soft, artificial lights. The ceiling above was a uniform gray, lined with recessed fixtures and ventilation grilles that hummed gently.
Men and women in crisp white lab coats moved about with calm purpose, checking equipment, tending to patients, and scribbling notes on old-world clipboards. The smell of antiseptic hung in the air — strange, sharp, but not unpleasant compared to the mildew and dust of the tunnels they knew.
Nikolai shifted nervously, edging closer to Sergei. The older man rested a steadying hand on his shoulder, though even Sergei's own pulse had quickened at the surreal sight.
The Minuteman spoke briefly with a doctor near the entrance, who nodded and gestured for them to come further inside.
"You'll be looked after here," the soldier said . "Get you both checked out and patched up, after that , i will take you to your quarters."
Sergei gave a weary nod, offering a quiet, "Thank you."
The two Russians stood in the middle of the clean, unfamiliar room — strangers in a world far stranger than either of them could have imagined.
The first doctor, a middle-aged man with graying hair, gestured toward a pair of empty beds along the far wall. "You two, over here," he said, his voice gentle but firm.
Sergei and Nikolai exchanged a glance, then moved to sit on the beds. The sterile environment, the soft hum of machines, and the clean scent of antiseptic made both of them uneasy in a way the darkness of the Metro never had.
A moment later, a woman in a clean white coat approached them. She looked to be in her early thirties, with kind eyes and dark hair tied back neatly. She smiled warmly.
"Bonjour — my name is Curie," she introduced herself, her voice carrying a soft, lingering accent. "I'll be conducting some quick check-ups. You both look… not so well, and I'd like to take a small sample of blood to check for any issues, radiation exposure, or infections."
Sergei gave a slow nod, then turned to Nikolai, speaking to him quietly in Russian, explaining what Curie had said. Nikolai's expression tightened at the mention of blood, but after a brief pause, he gave a reluctant nod.
Sergei looked back at Curie. "He agrees. You can… proceed," he said, his English careful but clear. "We… we do not have much medicine in Metro. Only little supply. Many sick, many die."
Curie's smile softened, and a flicker of sadness crossed her face. "I am sorry to hear that," she said quietly. "No one should have to live like that. But you are safe here, for now."
She moved to a nearby tray, gathering a few sterile instruments and a small vial, before returning to Sergei first. "This won't take long," she assured them gently.
As the process began, Nikolai watched with wide, anxious eyes — but knowing what was happening eased some of his nerves.
After a while, Curie returned, a warm smile on her face, holding a small tray with a pair of syringes filled with clear, pale-blue liquid.
"I have the results," she announced gently. "Your bodies are undernourished, suffering from moderate radiation exposure, and signs of chronic fatigue from poor living conditions. But… you need not worry — we have the medicine to treat it."
Sergei sat up a little, wary as his gaze fell on the syringes. "What is that?" he asked cautiously.
Curie held one up between her fingers. "A full-spectrum curative. It eliminates infections, reverses radiation damage, and restores physical health. I developed it myself. It's been safely used across the Commonwealth."
Nikolai tensed, looking to Sergei, uncertain.
Sergei spoke to him quietly in Russian, explaining what Curie had said. Nikolai's brow furrowed, his gaze flicking between the syringe and Curie's kind face.
Curie, sensing their hesitation, added softly, "I assure you, mes amis… it is safe. I would not give it to you if it were not. You have nothing to fear."
The two Russians exchanged a long look. Finally, Sergei sighed, then nodded. "Alright. We… trust you."
Curie's expression brightened. "Très bien! This will only sting for a moment."
She administered the injections quickly and efficiently. Nikolai winced but said nothing, watching as Sergei received his shot. Afterwards, Curie disposed of the used syringes and handed them both a bottle of clean water.
"Now… rest a while. You will feel much better soon."
Sergei gave her a small, tired smile. "Thank you… you are very kind."
Curie smiled kindly " I'm happy that i could help "
After the treatment was done, Sergei carefully rose from the bed, rolling his shoulder where the injection had gone in. He turned to Curie and managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you… for both of us," he said, motioning to Nikolai, who gave an uncertain but polite nod, still not fully understanding the conversation.
Curie returned the smile warmly. "You are most welcome. If you feel unwell, come see me, yes?"
Sergei nodded. "We will."
With that, the guard posted by the entrance, gestured for them to follow. "Come on, folks. I'll show you where you'll be staying."
The two Russians trailed after him, stepping out of the hospital and back into the streets of Sanctuary Hills. The sun had almost set now, bathing the settlement in a soft orange glow, the streets alive with settlers finishing their day's work.
After a short walk, the guard stopped at one of the quarters near the edge of the residential area , a modest prefab cabin with a clean metal door and a Minutemen emblem painted above it.
"Here you go," the guard said, pushing the door open. Inside, the small room was simple but clean: two beds with neatly folded blankets, a table with a pair of chairs, and a small dresser. A soft yellow lamp cast a warm light over the room. Compared to the cramped, dirty tunnels of the Metro… it felt almost unreal.
Sergei stepped inside first, his gaze lingering on the clean sheets and sturdy walls. "It's… clean," he muttered, half to himself, the simple luxury of it striking him more than any weapon or technology he'd seen so far.
Nikolai followed, eyes wide, before letting out a quiet, astonished whistle in Russian.
The guard smirked. "Not the fanciest place in the 'wealth, but better than a radroach nest. You'll be safe here."
Sergei turned to him and nodded. "Thank you."
"Get some rest," the guard said, tipping his cap before closing the door behind them.
The two Russians stood there for a moment in silence, taking it in. Then Sergei let out a long breath and sat heavily on one of the beds, motioning for Nikolai to do the same.
For the first time in a long time… they could relax.
--- Next day morning, Briefing room ---
Morning sunlight filtered through the worn but clean windows of Sanctuary's command center. Around the large table in the briefing room, several high-ranking Minutemen members had gathered, seated in mismatched chairs, bottle of water or Nuka cola at hand. The air was heavy with concern and quiet tension.
At the head of the table satthe General , Nathaniel Ward, his expression grim as he reached down to his Pip-Boy and pressed a button.
The crackling recording of the previous day's conversation with Sergei filled the room.
"We… come from Moscow. Russia. Live underground. Since bombs fall."
"Russia? That's—impossible. You're saying you came from across the ocean?"
"Not sure. We explore… tunnels. We got attacked. We ran. Arrived here."
The playback continued briefly, stopping just after the General's clarifying questions about the date the bombs fell, the lack of energy weapons, and power armor in their world.
The room fell silent for a moment before Captain Miles Whitaker leaned forward, brow furrowed beneath his graying hair.
"That's one hell of a story, General. But if it's true — and I'm not saying it ain't — then something very strange is happening beneath our feet."
Preston Garvey gave a single nod. "We can't ignore it. Not with those… things showing up on the surface. If there's more of them where those two came from, we've should be careful."
Lieutenant Abigail Marsh spoke next, her voice even and practical. "And what about this cave they came through? If it connects to a larger tunnel system… it could be both a threat and an opportunity. We need to ensure that is secure ."
General Ward steepled his fingers, thinking for a long moment.
"I agree. I plan to personally lead a team into the tunnels alongside Sergei and Nikolai. We'll chart the passage, confirm their story, and see if these creatures are migrating through it. This can't be left unchecked."
Sergeant Major Darius Cole, his scarred face grim, grunted.
"If you're heading down there, General, you'll need a proper escort. I volunteer myself and a squad. No offense, but we don't know what else might crawl out of that dark."
A murmur of agreement followed.
Doctor Elara Boone tapped a few notes into her terminal.
"Those two men were in bad shape, malnourished and half-poisoned by whatever's lurking in those tunnels. We should bring supplies, RadAway, stimpaks… and see if anyone else is down there in need."
Quartermaster Samuel Briggs rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"If we're going below, best bring energy weapons and armor-piercing rounds. Standard issue won't cut it if we run into more of those mutants."
General Ward nodded firmly.
"Alright. I'll assemble a team —you, Cole, Marsh — coordinate your people. Preston, keep the settlements on alert and double up patrols. Elara, prep medkits and supplies. Briggs, see to the weapons and armor."
He glanced around the room.
"This could be the start of something much bigger than any of us thought. We'll be departing later this evening . Dismissed."
Chairs scraped as the officers rose, murmuring among themselves, the gravity of the situation weighing on them all.
--- With Sergei and Nikolai ---
For the first time in years, Sergei had slept in a clean bed. The softness of the mattress, the warmth of the blankets, and the stillness of the room had been almost disorienting. No distant growls in the dark, no flickering makeshift lights, no cold concrete beneath him. When morning came, the scent of fresh air and the pale sunlight filtering through the window felt like another world.
Nikolai had slept restlessly at first, unused to the quiet and the absence of the familiar metal-and-stone walls of the Metro. But eventually, fatigue won over, and for the first time in his life, he awoke to a room not choked with dust and damp. He didn't say much when they got up, but Sergei could see it in his eyes — the quiet wonder at a world beyond their tunnels.
After properly waking up and dressing in the still dusty clothes he come out of the metro with , the two made their way to the market. The settlement was already alive with people trading, talking, and working. The smell of cooked meat and fresh bread filled the air.
They spotted Carter, Nora, Reyes, Ellis, and Hollis near the market, gathered around a worn picnic table. Empty bottles of Nuka-Cola clinked as Reyes set them aside, while the group packed their weapons for an upcoming patrol.
Sergei approached, offering a small, grateful smile, and held out a handful of caps. "Sergeant Carter… for meat, yesterday."
Carter looked down at the coins and huffed a chuckle. "Didn't expect that, but thanks. You boys settle in alright?"
Sergei nodded. "Clean bed… strange, but good. First time in long time."
Reyes grinned. "Better than sleeping on concrete, huh?"
Nikolai smiled faintly, though he didn't catch the words.
Just then, a Minutemen soldier jogged up, a little out of breath. He saluted Carter, then turned to Sergei. " the General requests to see you at the command center. Says it's important."
Carter raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Nora.
Sergei's expression shifted, a bit of tension returning to his shoulders. He nodded. "We go."
The soldier gave a short nod, then he turned and jogged back the way he came.
Carter clapped Sergei's shoulder. "Watch yourself in there."
Nora smiled. "And stay out of trouble."
With a short wave and a muttered word to Nikolai in Russian, Sergei led the way toward the command center once more, the warmth of the morning sun on their backs, and the lingering comfort of a clean bed already starting to feel like a distant memory.
.....
Sergei and Nikolai stepped into the command center, where a soldier silently gestured for them to follow. They were led through the familiar entrance area and past the radio room, stopping at the heavy door of the briefing room. The soldier knocked once, then opened it.
General Ward stood inside, leaning over a map on the table. He looked up as they entered.
"Take a seat, gentlemen," the General said evenly.
The two Russians sat down. Nikolai glanced around, visibly uneasy, while Sergei stayed composed.
The General crossed his arms. "I've spoken with my colleagues and decided on a course of action. Later this evening, I'll be leading a team into the Metro. And since you two are the only ones familiar with those tunnels, I want you with us — as guides."
Sergei eyed him carefully. "Your intentions?"
General Ward met his gaze squarely. "We want to see the Metro for ourselves. Speak with your people. Make sure there's no misunderstanding or future problems. No hostile intentions, Sergei. I mean that."
Sergei considered that, weighing the words carefully. That's when Nikolai leaned closer to him, speaking softly in Russian.
"What's he saying?"
Sergei sighed, then replied in their native tongue. "He wants to take a group into the tunnels. Says they don't mean harm. Wants to meet the people of the stations… see the Metro."
Nikolai's face lit up with a glimmer of hope. "Maybe… maybe they can help us. Bring medicine. Food. Weapons."
Sergei shook his head, a shadow of caution in his expression. "Nothing's free, Kolya. Out here, or down there. If they offer help, they'll ask something in return. Always a price."
Nikolai fell silent at that, lowering his gaze.
Sergei turned back to the General. "Alright. We will guide you. Back to our station."
A small nod of approval from Ward. "Good. And one more thing — I've already sent word ahead. When we move out this evening, your weapons will be returned to you. Figured you'd prefer not to walk into your home unarmed."
Sergei gave a faint, almost grateful nod. "Appreciated."
"You're dismissed for now. Get some food, rest up. We move out once the sun goes down."
Sergei rose, gesturing for Nikolai to follow, leaving the room.