Observation and Protection

by Stillmatic

Chapter 2: Echoes of the Zone

“A Space Bubble, brother, is one of the shittiest shits to ever grace the Zone.” – Leshiy from the Freedom Faction

White Mark inspected the body, taking in as much as he could about that creature. It was a hideous brown color, with rough and hard flesh covering its body. Whatever it was, it most likely stood on two legs and used its long, opposable upper appendages to swipe and claw at victims. He’d never seen anything like it, and it sent shivers down his spine. The odd body shape along with the even odder pattern to its body color was distinctly uncommon. All of this pointed to the theory that it wasn’t off this world.

While the General had never actually studied into the realm of other-worldly travel and the different implications of such magical sciences, he always assumed that Earth had been an isolated planet among an innumerable amount of stars and galaxies. Could there possibly be interlopers? Visitors? Trespassers? From a different planet, no less? The thought left him confounded, wanting to tip back a stiff drink in order to remedy it. Of course, he’d have to wait until his shift was over for the day until then.

The Forensics Team was making progress into the investigation and he turned away from the carcass of the creature. He couldn’t stand the sight of such an abomination taking lives without any sort of restraint. One thing about it, however, was the lack of heads atop their necks. What were they killed by that would cut off their heads? Also, what were those holes within their bodies? He was soon going to find out.

White Mark trotted to Violet Light, a female, purplish unicorn with a navy mane and tail. Acting as the lead forensics field scientist, Violet Light was the crux in deciding certain matters of certain “scenes” the public usually never saw. The mare hummed idly to herself, mulling over her day and what she was looking at. White Mark watched respectfully as she used her dark-blue magic to point a light at a puncture wound on the body of one of the creatures. It showed what was within, revealing a small, metallic object that shattered and lodged itself not too far in.

“What do you make of it?” White Mark asked, startling the mare.

She jabbed him playfully while he chuckled and responded with a sly smile, “Well, I’d say it was killed via miniature projectiles that entered the body, ruptured organs, muscle tissue, and initiated heavy internal bleeding.”

“Projectiles?” He asked, “As in arrows?”

Violet Light shook her head, “No, something else. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Made of metal…” She covered her muzzle in magic and held the original aura to the metal object, sniffing, “And… gunpowder? Hmm…”

The mare began to take notes, easily forgetting the high-ranking military official near her. The General accidentally (supposedly) scared her again by clearing his throat. He smiled at her innate meekness, and grinned as she tried to play it off well. Running a hoof through her mane, Violet Light gave an awkward smile.

“There’s some other stuff I can tell you, if you like.”

“The Princesses would appreciate what information they could get.”

Using her horn, the unicorn pointed to the corpse, “You see, I found a mix of pony, specifically pegasus, and some other type of blood mixed together inside of the body. That, and a load of different chemicals I’ll have to analyze for later.”

“Anything else of importance?”

A grin stretched across her face, “Well, there is one thing that may be of interest to you…”

“And that is?”

She got close to his ear, letting her breath hit it. His eyes widened as Violet Light whispered into his ear, speaking things he hadn’t heard of in more than a few years. White Mark tried swallowing but found his throat had gone dry. She finished and stepped back, smiling coyly at the stallion. His cheeks were flushed red, indicating that he definitely reacted to her words.

Violet Light got close to his face and spoke low, “Well? How does that sound?”

The General blinked and as much as he commanded his legs to run, they wouldn’t. When nothing of his body responded and all that came out were stutters, the mare gave him a light peck on the cheek and giggled. Attempting to regain his composure, White Mark cleared his throat.

“Ahem, well, I’d like that very much, but I don’t think we should be discussing such things while on the job.”

She turned, purposely hitting his face with the tip of her tail in the process, “Aww, you’re no fun. At least, not yet,” Violet Light said, turning her head back, “Pick me up at eight?”

He nodded, realizing that he had no choice in the situation. Not that he wouldn’t pick the choice he was given anyway. She giggled once more and went back to her colleagues, leaving the tough general a nervous stallion.

‘Should I report this to the Princesses as well..?’

Slumber was something rare for stalkers, and any chance to receive it was a blessing in itself. Stories of mutants attacking in the middle of the night or phantoms haunting dreams were always reason enough to not sleep much in the Zone, especially when there were ones that involved hearts rupturing from the nightmares that the Zone gave off somehow. Some safe areas allowed for peaceful sleep however, and many stalkers took advantage of that. Still, anyone who wasn’t a rookie knew to sleep with one eye open, always ready to defend oneself from anything.

The Tourist forced himself awake, the whirring of multiple helicopter blades providing a somewhat soothing hum that entranced him. It wasn’t incredibly dark within the Mil Mi-6, but reasonably enough for him to get some shut-eye. The Hook was an uncommon sight in the Zone, but this stalker had his fair share of run-ins with the it, usually ending in it simply flying above him. Avoidance was still the best route, unless you happened to have the rubles to shell out for some kind of weaponry to shoot one down and a reason to do so, or just a death wish. He sighed, feeling tried again once he remembered who he was guarding on this mission.

Four of the six scientists weren’t just foreign, but completely oblivious to the Zone’s inner workings. Chason was essentially the buffer between groups, where the Slavic stalkers (who worked for the ISG) and two scientists sat on his left, and the foreigners (both scientists and a few troops) on his right. It was an odd mix and both sides seemed to keep to themselves at all times, most likely for the better. The two Clear Sky members conversed with each other like old pals while the ISG Troops either ate or made mild conversation to pass the time. Across from the Tourist was his pseudo-partner who he usually worked alongside, Violinist.

The man was less chatty than the rest, but Violinist proved to be an excellent and reliable stalker that knew the Zone well enough to be contracted by the United Nations. He did in fact have a twin brother in the Zone running under the name Pianist that worked for the Mercenaries, but Chason never actually met him. When Violinist noticed Tourist’s staring, he gave him a nod and small smile. Anything larger would have been a true anomaly in the Zone.

The ISG troops were negligible and Tourist didn’t truly care about their names or motives. Each wore their camouflaged suits at all times, whether they were Sunrise or SEVA Suits. Ironically, their camo-pattern was perverted by the Monolith, who chose to switch the light-pink of ISG to a darker brown. Nonetheless, the group never seemed to run into problems, with the Delta Team being the only exception.

Following the supposed deaths of the former group, Echo Team was quickly assembled and given strict orders to perform research on the last team’s objective. The Space Bubble, one of interest as of late, was in the far distance, floating high above the ground. It was their mission to go through it and study what was apparently a sub-dimension of the Zone. It took quite a lot of money, but the ISG managed to procure a Compass artifact for finding their way out of the anomaly, should it be necessary. Of course, only a few of the members actually knew how to properly use an artifact, with Chason being one of them.

The Tourist yawned and stretched his arms out, warming them up. Looking to his right, he spotted the foreigners going over calculations or some other type of research he didn’t understand. The main problem was that each spoke English fluently, but were legitimately horrible when it came to Russian, the Zone’s main language despite location. None realized it was practically customary to use an alias in the Zone either. It was quite odd to see just who exactly the United Nations decided to send.

There was one named Jacob –Wexler, was it?-, a pasty looking male with glasses as thin as himself. Chason knew nothing about him other than he was from some big-wig university over in the United States and that he was chosen from a good many geneticists to participate in the Zone. Most of his actions were jerky and without proper coordination, a tell-tale sign of a rookie. He expected nothing else, as it turned out, from the short man. The red hair atop his head wasn’t much to look at, but Chason found himself admiring its curliness for some odd reason.

Moving on, Chason noticed a large man rifling through a PDA and taking notes next to Jacob. He knew quite a bit more about this dark, well-muscled human being as he studied more of his features. Despite his skin being ebony, Chason immediately knew his origin from simply his voice; Thabo Okaidy, the lead biologist of the mission, was from South-Africa. His demeanor was quiet and relaxed, but his large frame emphasized a sense of toughness and pride that simply emanated from the man easily. Chason stowed away a reminder not to anger the man who could probably wipe the floor with him like a mop.

Chason’s eyes drifted upon another man, this one of a medium, tall build. English, supposedly. Funny, he never personally met one before, despite working for the U.N.. His accent was… intriguing, to say the least. It wasn’t anything like Chason expected, what with him never hearing an English accent before. This “Edgar Vicks” was far too open for his tastes, especially when it came to the lack of mild language he presented to conversations. He sighed, knowing he’d have to get used to the more straight-forward man for this mission that would most likely last months, if not well over that time period.

Last but not least was the truest anomaly to have ever occurred in the Zone, something so indescribably rare and unheard of, that it made Chason feel slightly awkward. This anomaly was Claramond Diederich, an Austrian woman hailing from steep slopes and pure prodigy. From what he had heard, she attended some university where she received degrees in… Was it Physics? Or maybe Chemistry? He recalled she had a multitude and was fairly knowledgeable in all matters earthly or otherwise. It clicked in his mind- Innsbruck, that was where she went! Quite impressive, but a bad decision to have her here in his mind.

There was a reason women never became part of the population in the Zone, mostly attributing to how male stalkers react around women after not being exposed to them in possibly years. Not only that, but her less muscly structure wouldn’t hold up well against mutants or have the same endurance as anyone else. Then again, she was the chief scientist of this operation and as such, would be spending most of her time analyzing and doing work inside of the mobile lab. He doubted she would even see the sun much in the time she was here. Still though, why would the U.N. send such a gifted and intelligent person in the Zone of all places? It was practically a death sentence for the eggheads, yet here they were, allowed to let themselves assimilate to the Zone’s ways.

The Tourist shook his head, wanting nothing more than to just stand guard and watch the Zone work. He didn’t have a degree like the scientists, but he knew for a fact he knew more than them about the Zone. Something about just observing it, watching it and being a part of it, could teach you without directness or words. It was its own professor, guiding others and whispering secrets here and there, letting knowledge slip through cracks and down towards the men that it chose to bestow it upon without any sort of predictability or pattern. It drove those foreigners wild at the thought that such a place could exist in the universe, yet, he had lived in it for years at this point. They could never understand what it meant to be one with the Zone, or maybe not without giving up a part of themselves in the process.

Trying to shake off his pessimistic thoughts, Chason looked to his left towards the last two scientists. Not exactly legends, but famous nonetheless. It was a miracle they were both still alive and they wore that miracle as symbol of injured pride. That symbol was their outfits. They still wore their Clear Sky suits, becoming living ghosts among the passengers within the Hook. Despite the tragic loss their pride as the most secretive faction had taken, they remained there, ever present to remind stalkers that the Zone couldn’t claim everything it desired.

Docent Suslov was a true friend to anyone who came to him, always assisting others in times of need. His always wide-open eyes and cloth-covered lower face pushed some stalkers away due to being intimidated, but the man never attacked others without serious provocation. Friendly faces were a common sight at the Clear Sky base, as Chason recalled, and this one was no different. Of course, he seriously doubted the highly intelligent Docent would even remember who he was, let alone want to speak with him.

Lastly, there was Professor Kalancha, Clear Sky’s “walking calculator and encyclopedia in one” who desired nothing more than to research the Zone and find a way to prevent its growth. “Growth” was the word worth noting, hinting at his want to continue to have the Zone exist, but without it spreading like a cancer. Chason had to agree with that, the Zone was getting far too large in his opinion. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if it ever spread past Ukraine and into the world. Kalancha most likely thought the same thing and kept hidden vast amounts of information about the Zone in its entirety. A living goldmine that had devoted his life to helping mankind through the Zone. Truly amazing men Chason was in the company of.

The olive-green vests and blue-white camouflage suits were physical flashbacks of Chason’s early life in the Zone, where he had nearly died in the Swamps looking for a so-called “mystery” faction. In reality, it had been Clear Sky, who kept to themselves and fought desperately against the Renegades who sought to loot their base of operations. But they saved Chason and for that, he helped them. They inducted him for a short time until he decided to leave, spending the time with them as a squad commander. He began to remember now, who he had in turn saved from the Swamps only two weeks after his own near-death experience.

Mercenary Scar. The name still resounded within his head. He was in the Zone longer than Chason and stirred the Clear Sky faction up quite a bit. His natural prowess and skill conjured a sense of morale among the ranks, helping them push back and utterly cripple the Renegades in less than two days. Two days was quite a feat, especially seeing as how Scar was already suffering from Emission Exposure Syndrome, something that Kalancha and Lebedev coined after Chason brought him to their cabin.

The Tourist pulled out his PDA, remembering that there was a bit of information he hadn’t read that had something to do with the missing stalker. His thumbs pressed on the “Diary” section, where he found the file he was looking for under “Interviews.” The stalker began to read, taking in whatever tidbit presented itself.

-An Interview with Leshiy, a Mercenary turned Freedomer-

I opened my notepad and sat down across from the veteran, ready to take anything he said down on paper. He snorted in amusement at the sight but pulled off his hood and gasmask nonetheless. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting someone with such red hair to be a stalker. From the pictures I’ve seen of the Red Forest, I could tell there was an odd… resemblance. Ignoring that, I asked the first question.

“How did you become a stalker?”

He shifted in his seat, obviously getting comfortable for a long conversation, “Well, I came from the Big Land-“

“Big Land?”

“Russia.”

“Ah. Continue.”

“As I was saying, I came from there, then came here during my more ‘rebellious phase’, you know?” I could see the focus draining from his eyes, “I was… an idealist. I thought I could help any and everyone. But now…” It should be noted that Leshiy sighed heavily at this point, “I can’t help but be so cynical. Such a realist! I mean, at this point, I even think if you died in the Zone, you weren’t even fit enough to walk in it in the first place!”

Intrigued, I asked another question, “What made you this way?”

He raised his head towards me, “It was back a while ago, before the last Great Emission. When I was a Mercenary working under Hog.”

“Hog? The very same that now runs his own PMC?”

Leshiy nodded, “Yeah, and he deserves it too. Best boss I ever had. Cared a hella lot about us. Anyway, what happened was we were given the job to find this artifact, a Bubble. Drains rads from you like nobody’s business. See, we ended up talking a wrong turn through the Red Forest, and one thing led to another…”

“Could you elaborate?”

“Have you ever heard of a ‘Space Bubble’ before?” I shook my head, “A Space Bubble, brother, is one of the shittiest shits to ever grace the Zone. We got stuck in one and for almost two days- TWO DAYS- we walked around in circles, always seeing a small village on the horizon but never getting there!”

This was simply astonishing, especially seeing as though I would be one of the first to report on such a construct of this infernal place. Truly, was it possible for space and time to be bent and perverted in such a way? It didn’t matter; all I needed to do was get as much information as possible.

“So what happened?”

“Well, Hog was pretty worried, started asking random stalkers for help. He did want the artifact, but in the end, he saw us as more valuable. I mean, who’s going to hunt those artifacts if all of your men are stuck in another sub-dimension?”

“Sub-dimension?”

“The Space Anomaly creates a sub-dimension that works like…” he thought for a moment, “to put it as a friend said it, like a Mobius Ring. Never ending, always returning to the same point of origin, brother. Scary stuff.”

I quickly scribbled down what he said, “Amazing…”

He shrugged, “It’s just another bastard of the Zone. So after nearly two days, Hog comes across this one fellow who just came out of the Red Forest unscathed.” He shook his head, chuckling, “Guy actually made a deal with our boss. Said if he helped me and my team out of the Bubble, we’d help him take the bridge to Limansk from a gang of Renegades.”

“I’ve heard of that group. Who are they?”

“A bunch of low-life, conniving shitheads, that’s who.”

Good thing he didn’t notice my startled look, “C-Continue.”

“It happened. Somehow, that son of a bitch managed to go find Forester, return to him his Compass, and then get the coordinates from the artifact for the Bubble’s exit.”

“Could you explain what the Compass is? And who this Forester is?”

“Forester is the original park ranger of the Red Forest, from even before the First Disaster.”

“He’s stayed here that long?”

It seemed incredibly odd that anyone would willingly live their life here.

“The old man never wanted to leave. He had this artifact, called Compass. It was an amazing thing, could lead you through anomaly fields if you knew how to work it. Been years since anyone’s found one. Anyway, you wouldn’t believe what the guy did after that, just to free us.”

“What was it he did?”

Leshiy grinned deviously, “He took over the Army Warehouses, with over a dozen of those goons still there, armed to the teeth.”

He noticed my expression and laughed, while I simply sat there and asked, “This stalker attacked the Military? Isn’t that illegal?”

I was left irked when Leshiy began to openly laugh in my face, tears streaming down from how hilarious he seemed to find it. Were these even people anymore? They didn’t care about killing others or slaughtering the wildlife(and I used that term loosely). He eventually calmed down enough to rip a hunk off a piece of bread with his teeth and wash it down with vodka. It must be the vodka.

He continued, “In the Zone, nothing is illegal as long as you’re willing to deal with the consequences and backlash. Anyway, he and Kostyan’s assault force stormed the shit out the Warehouses, took it for Freedom, and then transmitted the coordinates to us from outside the Bubble. After heading in a specific direction, we managed to actually get free, and this is the weird part, right above the tunnel that led to Limansk.” Leshiy gave a throaty chortle, reminiscing, obviously.

“Then what?” I asked, waiting for him to continue.

“Then we fought off swarms of those scumbags as they came through. On the other side of the bridge were the folks from Clear Sky and the guy from earlier.” For a few moments, Leshiy went silent, a humble look across his face, “… It was amazing… Not one of my men died that day and because of him.”

I couldn’t help but try to prod deeper, “Who’s ‘him’?”

“… He was… Scar, Mercenary Scar. That day, each of us knew that we were fighting alongside a true legend of the Zone. He was a real sharpshooter, you see, and he had this Vintar that could blow the head off of a bloodsucker. Let’s just say he did real well in holding back the Renegades, so well that none of our guys died.”

I really couldn’t imagine someone was so well-trained with their weapon that they could tackle scores of other armed men without giving them a chance to even fire back. Just who was this Mercenary?

“So after you managed to lower the bridge, what happened?”

“Well, I sent three of my boys to deliver the artifact to Hog while the rest of us went and helped Clear Sky take down that stalker.”

“Stalker? Why were they after a single stalker?”

Leshiy scowled, “Because that single stalker is the one who fucked up the Zone! They called him Strelok and because of him, Scar was dying a slow death!” He sucked his teeth while shaking his head, “Let me explain Scar’s situation: He’s marked by the Zone in a way that emissions don’t kill him but make him just a bit stronger, all right? But every time a blowout happens, even if he’s hiding, his nerves weaken. You get where I’m going with this?”

“So this Mercenary would be nerve-dead eventually?”

“Worse. He’d be zombified.”

I raised my eyes from my pad to look at Leshiy, “Excuse me?”

He glared at me, “He’d end up a zombie. A walking shell that can shoot. They can’t think for shit, but they’re a serious problem.”

“So what did this one stalker have to do with the Mercenary and his death?”

“I never said he was dead. But this Strelok guy kept sneaking where he shouldn’t have been. He and his team would make raids past the Brainscorcher, all the way into Pripyat.”

From what I’ve heard, he was talking about an impossible feat that no one had ever successfully attempted before. But this group somehow managed to do it multiple times? I find that quite hard to believe.

“What does them sneaking in have to do with the Mercenary though?”

“Emissions occur when you get closer and closer to the CNPP.” Oh yes, the famed Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, something of a legend among stalkers apparently, “These guys got really nice and close, so the emissions came regularly because of that. And each emission brought Scar closer to zombification.”

“What happened in the end?”

“We took the Dead City over completely, wiping out all of the Renegades and Monolithians. There were some Dutyers and Freedomers that dropped by to investigate, you know, lone squads. Clear Sky split up to take down this one guy called Fang while the other group and Scar pushed straight through the Hospital and to the CNPP. I was there when they killed Fang. Put a few rounds in his back so he couldn’t get away, then they openly executed him for his crimes. When we went to find the body later, it was gone. Anyway, do you know who Dushman is?”

“Dutchman? As in the Flying Dutchman?”

“No, Dushman. He was the leader of a large Mercenary company. They took over Limansk afterwards and closed it off from everyone, with the exception of a few friendly Bandits. I didn’t want to work under him, so I walked with those Freedom boys and joined up with them.”

“As interesting as that is,” I said, getting somewhat bothered by his storytelling, “what of the Mercenary and that faction?”

Leshiy lowered his head, a somber mood passing over inside the room as he sighed, “I don’t really know… I know for a fact that Scar took down a Military strike helicopter by himself, but that’s about it.”

I nearly did a double-take, “Wait, wait, wait. He shot down a helicopter without any help? How?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. He did a lot of things by himself that most stalkers don’t know are true. I believe it though. You had to have fought alongside him to really understand what kind of guy he was. Sucks that him and most of Clear Sky were lost in the emission after stopping Strelok.”

“So they actually managed to do it,” I mumbled, “What kind of man was this Mercenary?”

Leshiy crossed his arms in thought, “Well… A good guy. Never really killed anyone unless they shot first or they were hurting someone he was helping. That’s what he did a lot. Help people. Even Bandits, on occasion. In fact, if it wasn’t for him, Father Valerian would never have been able to bring the Loners together, Duty would never have been able to cut down the mutant populations, Freedom would have been killed off by Mercenaries, Bandits would still have slaves, Renegades would still be a functioning faction, and me and my boys would’ve been dead inside of a Space Bubble.” He smiled at seemingly nothing in particular, “I got to admit, Scar was a true champ. Always doing the right thing no matter what. In the Red Forest, when he was chasing Strelok and a group of Loners ambushed him, he spared the last few. For what reason, I don’t know, but I gotta respect him for it.”

“Sounds like you really liked him,” I mused.

A look of offense was now plastered on Leshiy’s face, “Whatcha mean by that, brother? What’re you trying to say?”

I raised my hands, trying to look as least threatening as possible so this man wouldn’t shoot me in the head, “I-I just mean that you and him seemed to be pretty good friends! That’s it!”

The stalker definitely didn’t seem to like me, but I thought he confided in me for a moment, “Eh, what do I care? I’ll admit it, I had a thing for him back then. There was just something about him…”

I was beginning to feel uncomfortable once I heard that, “O-Oh, yeah, that’s n-nice.” I cleared my throat awkwardly, “Didn’t think you felt that way, or anyone else here for that matter.”

Leshiy shrugged, a habit obviously, “Hey, I don’t care how others swing. Hell, I remember hearing about this one stalker who saw this flesh and-“

I cut him off, “Please, no more. I don’t think people want to be reading about that.”

He eyed me for a few seconds longer before settling back down, shaking his head, “Damn, the Zone always has to claim the better ones.” He still seemed upset about Scar and the Freedomer sighed, “Well, that’s all there is to this story. Go. Go and turn the horror that’s our lives here into your ticket to fame. That’s how it always is. People come here to interview, never come back.”

With that, Leshiy stood up and exited the room, leaving me alone, or at least I thought I was. I heard a belch and some murmuring nearby. Turning my head, I spotted the one they called “Chef”. He seemed to be drunk out of his mind. Not one to turn down an opportunity for a good scoop, I stepped up to him, ready to hand over a bottle of vodka as some sort of rudimentary payment. Of course, I didn’t know what I was getting into at the time…

“Delta Team, prepare for arrival and Bubble intrusion.”

The Tourist blinked, realizing he had been so caught up in reading that time flew by faster than he thought. The sound of more helicopters passing nearby, cutting through the air loudly, made him stand up and peer out the window, getting the attention of other occupants. Chason spotted over half a dozen assault Hinds heading towards the CNPP, along with the same number of BTR-70’s rolling through the plains, none hitting any anomalies along the way. He was left speechless and in awe at the sight. His respect for the Military skyrocketed at that moment, making him somewhat proud to say he saw their massive attack on the Power Plant.

“I never thought I’d see the day…”

Violinist glanced out the window for a moment, “I hope they kill off every one of those fanatics. Maybe then I could get to the Wish Granter.”

Those last two words cut everyone else short with their words, bringing an eerie silence inside the transport. No one truly knew what was in the confines of the Sarcophagus, other than some mysterious crystal that granted wishes to any stalker willing to risk their lives to reach it. The lack of talking ended once they hit a rough spot, forcing the Hook to shake. A displeased grunt came from Edgar Vicks, who promptly shut his laptop in frustration.

“These pilots are disgustingly horrible at doing their job! A monkey without its brain could fly better!”

Violinist snapped his fingers to get Vicks’ attention, something the scientist didn’t appreciate, “You should be happy you’re even here. Most people have their brains fried by now. You’re lucky someone turned off the Scorcher or we’d have to take a load of psy-block to counteract it.”

“Listen mate, I realize a simpleton like you wouldn’t be able to survive that kind of energy passing through that hollow thing you call a skull, but someone as intelligent as me wouldn’t be affected.”

Both the stalkers looked at each other and smirked knowingly.

Chason chuckled, “Yeah, that’s what Doctor Thompson said.”

“Doctor Who?”

“Thompson. He’s a zombie at Yantar now, having other zombies bring him rare artifacts that he experiments on.”

Vicks crossed his arms, “Load a’ crock, is what I say. These ‘zombies’ don’t exhibit any form of regular thought that isn’t completely primitive.”

“So you two have that in common, then?” Violinist asked with a small smile.

Vicks glared at him, ready to insult him again. Of course, he wasn’t able to do so when a shaking overtook the helicopter. Everyone held onto their seats with the exception of the veteran stalkers. They seemed to be oddly calm and relaxed as usual during their down time. A blinding flash occurred, disorientating anyone who wasn’t using some sort of cover for their eyes, such as the pilots. There was a moment of weightlessness, followed quickly by gravity shoving everyone downwards again.

The rays of light died down, letting everyone see what was happening once more. Chason rubbed forehead, a headache already starting to set in. Suddenly, there was chatter from the pilots over the radio.

“Ничего себе. Я никогда не видел ничего подобного… Мы все еще в зоне?” (“Wow, I've never seen anything like this before… Are we still in the Zone?”)

“Это ... так ярко, не так ли? Солнце светит, как я никогда раньше не видели.”  (“It's... so bright, isn't it? The sun is shining like I've never seen before.”)

The foreigners didn’t quite understand what the pilots were saying due to their lack of knowledge in regards to the Russian language, but both Chason and Violinist heard clearly. They rushed to the cockpit, holding their hands against the pilot seats for stability. What they saw was spectacular, a sky view of a beautiful landscape that showed no restrain to captivate the stalkers and pilots. It became a picture-perfect moment, drenched in a serene peace that just sprang forth from what they saw before them. The pilot on the left finished gawking and pointed a finger towards an area in the forest they were above.

“Очистка ниже, вероятно, лучшее место для нас созданы мобильные лаборатории.” (“The clearing below is probably the best spot for us to set up the mobile lab.”)

“Ну ладно, мы идем ниже, подготовиться к посадке. Разве вы оба сесть до сих пор?” (“Alright then, we're heading lower, prepare for landing. Would you two sit down until then?”)

Both stalkers nodded, with Chason patting the left pilot on the shoulder as they left. It was starting to look up for the group as they descended down back to Earth. They sat back in their seats and stared at each other for a while, neither speaking but all of the scientists (the ISG Troops still seemed to not really care of the situation) watching them.

Violinist spoke up, “Where exactly did that Space Bubble take us?”

“Somewhere colorful, bright, and really green. It isn’t Misery, I’ll tell you that much.”

Both of them laughed at the inside joke, with no eavesdropper picking up the punch line. Still, wherever they were, it didn’t quite look like the Zone. The Zone was decrepit and desolate region that held no warmth or noticeable life, let alone green life. It was a nice change of scenery from the gray skies and rainy weather, something both of them could appreciate. But now that they were here, what would happen?

“Chason?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t feel the Zone anymore.”

“… Neither do I.”

“Wait and see?”

“Only thing we can do, for now at least.”

“Alright then. Let’s get the equipment ready for when we have to place it inside the lab. Agreed?”

Chason stretched his legs, “Yeah, I want to get set up as quick as possible before we run into anything.”

“Damn, and we’re going to have to set up the fence too.” Violinist mentioned, “I hope the weather stays good, I’d rather not do any of this in the mud.”

“Same here.”

Someone clearing their throat nearby caught their attention, bringing their eyes to the female scientist, “Hello, I have a quick question, if you don’t mind.”

Both stalkers tried hard not to admire her features, keeping the situation as business-like as possible. Then again, the blonde hair, green eyes, and perfect skin would have enraptured any stalker. Truly an anomaly.

Violinist nodded, “What’s the question?”

She brought out her notebook and pencil, “Well, I’ve heard that some mutated species residing within the Zone exhibit special properties through use of psionic fields that they naturally generate, but I’ve yet to actually hear of a specific one that isn’t humanoid in nature. Would either of you know of any?”

Chason immediately knew of such a mutant, “The Chernobyl Dog, or Psy-Dog in some circles.”

Her eyes lit up, fascinated at chance to gather more information to report back to the United Nations, “Oh? And what exactly can these Dogs do?”

“Essentially, they’re pseudo-dogs with psionic abilities such as creating phantom versions of itself through concentrated energy.”

Claramond scribbled that down, “Ah, and they use these fake copies to trick prey?”

Violinist shared a look with Chason before speaking, “Fake? The Phantasms generated by a Psy-Dog are capable of tearing a stalker to shreds if he doesn’t disable them.”

She looked up from her pad, confused, “Wait, I thought you said that these illusions were just phantoms that passed through objects?”

Chason shook his head, “I’m afraid not. They’re actual copies of the psy-dog physically manifested from its own energy, and they’re able to attack just like any other dog. From what’s believed, they derive their abilities from the Phantasm mutant.”

“Phantasm? As in the same it makes?”

“Actually, no, this itself is a mutant that resides within the Northern parts of the Great Swamps. None have been seen in quite a while however, maybe years.”

The scientist smiled, “You seem to know quite a bit about the Zone, don’t you?”

He returned the gesture, “I’ve been here for a while now, since before all of this, back when there were no special suits or medicine to help you out.” Chason’s voice turned solemn, “We lost a lot of brothers back then, when all we had were the basics and those ancient anomaly detectors.” His mood brightened slightly, “We’ve come a long way, and things have gotten better through trial and error.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because if it hadn’t, we’d have a lot less artifacts to study.”

Chason chuckled, “Good to see they eventually get somewhere that matters.”

“Yes, well, we try our best to study the artifacts to understand their properties and how we can make them more practical towards science.” Claramond sighed, “Funny, though, we still can’t understand how to make transmutes yet, no matter how much research we pour into it.”

At this, Kalancha and Suslov’s heads each lifted, catching the word “transmute.”

It was the taller, more bean-pole shaped man who asked the question on both their minds, “Excuse me, young lady, but what do you know of transmutes?”

She seemed surprised that he spoke English, let alone to her, “Er… Not much, really. I’ve heard it’s possible to meld Zone substances together to generate an artifact, but we’ve yet to actually make one in laboratory conditions.”

Suslov pulled the cloth from his face, exposing it, “That is because transmutes require specific amounts of psionic energy that only the Zone can provide in specific areas. Over the course of our research, we’ve been able to create one type of transmute that does not automatically degenerate into a defunct state.”

“D-Do you happen to have this transmute?” Claramond asked, doing her best to hide her eagerness, “I’d like to personally see one, if possible.”

Kalancha and Suslov began whispering amongst one another, sharing information and asking questions as to decide whether or not to allow the foreigner to see something worth its weight in gold. After some debating and prodding from Suslov’s side, it was agreed that they’d provide the fellow scientist with the transmute for observation.

Professor Kalancha looked slightly distrusting but reached for his belt regardless, “Young lady, I do hope you can handle being under the direct effects of an artifact, a transmute no less.”

He opened his belt and retrieved the object in question, holding it towards the other scientist. The artifact was just like any Shell-based “Dummy” artifact in terms of size and shape, yet the color-scheme hinted at a Pellicles composition, glowing a faint, sickly green color in the helicopter. All eyes (including those of the ISG Troops) turned towards the artifact, each fixated heavily upon it. Claramond touched it, then grabbed it to hold in her hands. A chill ran down her body, one that sent an odd feeling through her as if her composition was being remade. Her skin felt more… resilient to harshness. It wasn’t as if was harder, just more together and less penetrable.

“I-It feels a-astounding! What is it made of?”

Suslov pointed to the transmute, “A Pellicle for the chemical resistant properties and a Wrenched for a balancing agent. It’s been exposed to light amounts of psionic energy, and as such, exhibits roughly just a bit better chemical resistance than a Pellicle. No other effects have been noted as of yet.”

The South-African scientist, Okaidy, stood and kneeled by the artifact, watching it with sheer amazement, “Quite exemplary, but I assume that it doesn’t differ much from the stronger host-artifact?”

Kalancha nodded, “Yes, unfortunately. Of course, it is one of the first known transmutes and due to being so, is a massive step forward in our research. These transmutes, however, don’t seem to degenerate once created, leaving them as permanent artifacts to be used.”

Okaidy opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Violinist, “Professor, have you tried activating it?”

Both Clear Sky members froze up, obviously surprised by such a question. They shared a few words amongst one another for half a minute before Suslov turned to speak.

“It would be counter-productive to activate a transmute that we’ve created, especially when we’re just scraping the surface of possibility. What kind of anomaly it would generate is unknown, and frankly, I would rather not find out.”

Vicks whistled to get Kalancha’s attention, “What does ‘activating an artifact’ mean?”

“It means you control the artifact and revert it back to an anomalous state. Depending on the tier of the artifact, the anomaly made by it varies in strength. Activating a Moonlight would most likely lead to a huge Electro or Tesla anomaly, whereas a Sparkler would generate a smaller one.”

“Hmm,” the Englishman responded, satisfied with the answer.

The helicopter shook, indicating that it had landed and dropped off the mobile lab. Violinist, Chason, and the ISG troops gathered the equipment and began to tote it off the helicopter as they disembarked in a new land. The air was surprising crisp, further adding to their doubts that they were in the Zone. Regardless, Echo Team began to prepare themselves for the future, taking measures to protect their lab and researchers. Little did they know that it would inevitably do little good to stifle the world around them.

General White Mark shuddered, completely unnerved by what he had seen, but more so nervous for what was to come later that night.

‘That creature… It wasn’t of this world, was it? What could it possibly be?’

He shook his head, attempted to restore his composure before entering the quarters of the Princesses. His little conversation with Violet Light left him shaken, in a positive manner. He could only imagine what tonight would be like for him and the mare.

Knocking his dull-grey hoof against the hard wood, he waited patiently until it opened for him. The General stepped inside, shut his eyes, and bowed, showing as much respect towards his Princesses as possible.

“There’s no need for such things, General. Please, tell us of the investigation.”

The melodic voice that spoke to him connected to Princess Celestia, who was cradling a sleeping Princess Luna in her hooves. He blushed, realizing he walked in on a close, personal moment. Clearing his throat, the stallion nodded and spoke softly as to not wake the Night Princess.

“Your Majesty, we’ve discovered the murderers in the waterways beneath the city.”

“’Murderers?’ As in more than one?”

“Yes, Your Highness. We’ve found the bodies of two together on a pathway under Mauve-Mane Avenue.”

Celestia looked down at her sister and mumbled, “So… she was right then…”

“Princess, there’s more.”

“Go on then, General, don’t hold in any details.”

“The creatures were in turn murdered as well.” The General began, “And were decapitated somewhere around the upper neck.”

The Princess stopped, staring at the floor, “De-Decapitated? By what? Nopony would ever do such a heinous and depraved act!”

“We aren’t sure as of yet, however, after testing blood samples, we’ve come to a conclusion.”

“And that is?”

“Something or somepony is hunting the creatures, killing them easily.”

“And…” Celestia thought, putting a hoof to her chin, “How exactly do we know that it isn’t the creature that murdered the original ones that is slaying our citizens?”

“As I’ve said, Your Majesty, we’ve tested the blood in the creatures and found it to be that of a pony’s. The creatures seemed to suck the blood through unknown means and use it as sustenance for themselves. Something slit their throats and carried away the victim before they had died.”

“Just what are we dealing with…” Celestia asked herself, frightened at the thought there were murderers rampant, with them attacking each other and killing her own ponies. “General, return to me as soon as new information presents itself. For now, conduct an autopsy on the slain creatures and find out how it managed to sneak through the city so well.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

With that settled, the General exited the room, closing the door behind him. The older Princess kept a tight grip around her younger sister, silently watching her in her sleep. The enormous amount of worry she felt kept creeping within her thoughts, plaguing and infesting them. She blinked her tired eyes and leaned back, ready to fall asleep.

Celestia gave a light peck to Luna’s forehead and whispered, “… What are you dreaming about?”

She wished, at that moment, that the suffering would end. Unfortunately, it hadn’t even begun.

Author's Notes

There you go, second real chapter and a decently sized longer one to boot.

Transmutes, because I know this will confuse people, are non-canon and are from a mod called OGSE (Old Good Stalker Evolution). I thought they fit in so well to the actual game that I'd include them here. Don't hate on me and this story because it isn't canon though, please.

I referenced a mod here that is infamous for its "realism" and "brownness". It's for CoP, which is the only hint I'm going to give.

Now, I wanted to include foreigners in the Zone for a number of reason, mainly because their reactions to the shit you'd see there would be hilarious. A female in the Zone is a bit different, mainly because it was never even said that women had ever entered the Zone. It's normally a joke to say that they're the only true anomalies in the Zone. (Little tidbit, there's an unused .gif in Shadow of Chernobyl of a female posterior. Don't ask about it though.)

To clarify, Operation Fairway is underway as they enter the Bubble. It's obvious in how it ultimately ends.

The interview with Leshiy was written by me, but inspired by someone else who wrote interviews about a reporter asking questions to various characters in the Zone. As far as I know, Leshiy isn't gay, but I honestly don't think it matters that much and thought it would be a funny nod to the previous joke of desperate males within the Zone.

Also, I've updated the story picture to include the title of the fic. Took a while to find the font though.

Well, I supposed that's about it for now. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, leave a comment, thumbs up etc..