The moment was surreal—like something ripped straight from a comic book or one of those old pre-war B-movies. The Zetan Mother ship, its smooth curves and pulsing alien tech half-sunken in the snow, was surrounded by NCR soldiers in rigid formation, their armor and fatigues a stark contrast against the unearthly vessel.

Six’s instincts screamed at him to pull back, to watch from the ridge. Something about the scene felt wrong—too clean, too organized. And then he saw the motorcade arriving.

It was President Kimball himself.

The old man stepped out, bundled in military dress beneath a heavy coat, flanked by honor guards and camera drones. At his side was General Lee Oliver, his usual scowl even more pronounced, clearly unhappy with this diplomatic stunt.

But leading the charge was a more hopeful figure: General Casey, upright and smiling, walking with confident steps toward the three surviving Zetans.

Six, laying prone behind a snow-covered rock with Boone beside him, muttered.

"They really brought the damn president into this?"

Roger grimaced.

"Yeah. And I got a bad feeling it’s about to go sideways." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Down below, the Zetans stood still as statues, the pulsing lights on their armored suits blinking in soft hues. The ambassador among them—taller than the others and holding a strange, staff-like translator—raised one long-fingered hand and a synthetic voice translated:

"We come in peace."

The crowd of reporters, NCR officers, and soldiers murmured, relieved. Kimball nodded solemnly, his breath fogging in the cold air. He motioned to General Casey, who stepped forward with a practiced smile.

Then someone in the crowd—a nervous Peace Corps volunteer perhaps—stepped forward and, with a hopeful grin, released a white dove into the sky.

It fluttered upward, graceful in the grey light, a pure symbol of diplomacy.

The Zetan ambassador’s black eyes narrowed.

"Ack!"

In one fluid motion, it drew its Alien Blaster, aimed skyward—and vaporized the bird in a single blue beam.

For a second, there was silence.

Then chaos erupted.

"Ack, Ack, Ack Ack Ack Ack, Ack, Ack!"

The ambassador turned its weapon toward General Casey and fired—POOF, he was reduced to a pile of ash before his smile even had time to fade. Reporters screamed. Soldiers panicked. General Oliver roared for his men to open fire, but it was already too late.

The Zetans moved with terrifying precision, their Alien Disintegrators humming with deadly energy as they mowed down NCR soldiers and officials. One blast turned a whole camera crew into a fine mist. Jason and Billy-Glenn, two aides standing near the podium, tried to run—POOF. Gone.

"Ack Ack Ack Ack, Ack, Ack!"

Roger ducked low beside Six as the sound of plasma fire filled the air.

"Called it."

He said grimly.

Six grabbed his Varis rifle and scanned the battlefield.

"We’re pulling Kimball out if we can. That stunt’s about to cost him his life, and as much as I think he’s a fool, losing the NCR President to aliens would send the entire NCR into chaos."

Rebecca’s voice crackled through their comms.

"Already moving in from the west. Give me two minutes, I’ll have eyes on him."

Cassidy crouched behind a stone pillar near the landing site, added.

"Tell me I get to shoot one of these alien bastards."

Six smirked grimly.

"Cass, you’ve got my full blessing. Light ’em up."

Above them, NCR Vertibirds screamed overhead, guns blazing, returning fire—but the Zetans weren’t falling back. If anything, they were enjoying the carnage. One of them even cackled—an eerie, garbled sound—as it disintegrated a squad of troopers.

The Mojave had seen many horrors. But this? This was a war on a whole new scale.

And Six was going to survive it. He had to—because now it wasn’t just raiders, conspiracies, or mutated beasts.

It was an invasion. And Earth had just fired the opening shot—Or maybe... the Zetans always meant to start it.

The battle was erupting like a storm, fast and unforgiving. The NCR’s Vertibirds, fast as they were, couldn’t hit the fast-moving Zetan warships.

The alien ships danced in the sky, darting around with a terrifying grace, unaffected by the firepower the NCR could muster. Their weapons, sleek and efficient, tore through armor and flesh alike, leaving nothing but vaporized remains. The once neat diplomatic event had turned into a massacre.

Six’s heart raced as he scanned the field. The President was still there, a figurehead surrounded by chaos. Kimball’s face was a mix of confusion and fear, his aged features looking small beneath the weight of the unfolding disaster.

Rebecca’s voice crackled again, sharp and urgent.

"Eyes on Kimball, he’s on the move. You need to hurry."

"Got it."

Six muttered, motioning for Boone in his power armor to keep low.

"We move fast, no one dies today if we can help it."

Cassidy, her anger palpable, barely gave him a glance as she checked the load in her shotgun.

"I’m not letting these bastards get away with this."

Six turned to Boone, who was scanning the chaos through his Factsphere Sensors.

"You stay with Rebecca, keep an eye out for Kimball. He’s our priority."

"Understood."

Boone replied. His hand flexed around his Varis rifle, already scanning for trouble. Rebecca had a better view of the chaos from the west, but it was hard to say how long they had before the Zetans shifted their attention completely.

Roger, meanwhile, crouched, his expression hardened.

"You want me to take the high ground?"

Six nodded, his gaze now locked on the slowly retreating President, surrounded by a handful of scattered guards and a few brave NCR soldiers.

"Yes. We need to cover him, get him out of here. We’re not sticking around for a full-scale war if we don’t have to."

The blast from one of the Zetan ships rocked the air, and a fresh wave of fire swept through the NCR lines. General Oliver was barking orders, but it was clear the soldiers were outmatched. This wasn’t a battle—they were a target.

The blast from a Zetan ship tore through a Vertibird, sending it spiraling out of control before crashing into the snow, its wreckage marking a fiery scar against the winter backdrop.

"Let’s move."

Six ordered, his voice steady but urgent. He knew this wasn’t just about survival—it was about taking control of a situation that was spiraling out of their hands. With Roger already on the move, he waved for Boone to follow him as they weaved their way through the snow.

The snow crunched beneath Boone’s, armor’s landspinners, and Six’s boots as they advanced, staying low, moving in sync as they approached Kimball’s position.