//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: A Stranger Approaches // Story: Observation and Protection // by Stillmatic //------------------------------// Observation and Protection Chapter 3: A Stranger Approaches By: Stillmatic “Strange things occur in the Zone. Strange happenings that defy explanation. No, not anomalies or artifacts… I’m talking about ‘other’ things. Like… ‘him’… or the Cartographer… We see all that other stuff as normal, but then there’s that! Why does the Zone twist and deform objects and people so much? Maybe we should ask those boys up at Yantar a thing or two about this stuff, maybe find some answers… What? No! Go to hell, I’m not scared. Idiots. Come on, we have to go that lab for our job anyways, might as well stop by to find out.” – A Mercenary on the discussion of Zone workings “God damn! These fences, man! They just don’t ever end, do they?” “Quiet, we’re almost done for God’s sake! Come on, push.” Violinist did as he was told and pressed his hands against the large, metal fence. It was grueling yet necessary task for the protection of the mobile lab and the scientists within. Of course, it could hold up against an onslaught of punishment from any direction and was easily repairable, but that came at the cost of an extremely tedious set-up process that left Chason, Violinist, and several ISG Troops exhausted. Chason used a hooked rope attached to the wires atop the fence to pull the fence towards him, where they would connect and link it to the rest of the large fencing. Violinist heaved and shoved himself forward, propelling the hunk of metal perfectly in place. Chason stabilized and connected it to the last piece they set up before removing the hook from above. The process repeated itself several times until they were finally finished. The ISG Troops that assisted the two stalkers walked over to a few logs and sat down, ready to finally relax after the less than enjoyable task. Chason walked over to the gate and pulled it backwards, connecting and locking it with the gate next to it in order to effectively cut the outside world off from them. Making sure to keep the key safe, the Tourist put it in the breast pocket of his suit and caught his breath. “Tired already?” He raised his head to see Vicks leaning against the mobile lab, taking notes down among other things. Not in the mood for any trivial conversation with such a rude man, Chason began to walk towards Violinist. That is, until Vicks began speaking anyway. “You know, it’s rude to walk away from a conversation without at least speaking back. Can’t say it’s your fault though, what with you being born in a part of the world like this.” Chason simply grunted, not bothering to give the irony of that statement any other thought. The tan gasmask that sat on his head was peeled off and tossed into his pack, where it bumped lazily against a pair of artifacts, some ammo, sparse medical supplies, bits of food, Cossacks Vodka, and an energy drink. Walking away again, the Tourist met Violinist by a log and sat across from him, ready to finally sit down after hours of work. “Excuse me! Um, you two! Could you come here for a moment?” Both men shared looks and groaned simultaneously. Getting up, they headed to the voice, which belonged to a certain female scientist peeking her head out of the lab and using her hand to beckon over them. Despite their aching muscles, the stalkers smiled regardless and went to listen to whatever it is she wanted. “Anything you need?” Chason asked. “Actually, yes. We need to do an inventory check but I’m a bit busy with studying that transmute from earlier. Would you two be able to do it for now? I’m sorry to put you guys on the spot like this, but-“ Violinist put a hand out, signaling for her to stop, “It’s fine, we’ll take care of it.” Claramond actually seemed surprised at how he willingly accepted, “Oh! Well, thank you! Do you two need the keycard for the inventory?” Both men lifted their own cards as she said that, “I see you two already have your own. Thank you again, I’ll leave you two to it.” “It’s nothing, Professor Diederich,” Chason said with a smile. She smirked, “You don’t have to be so formal, you know. Please, call me Clara.” “Alright then, Professor Clara,” said Violinist. “Seems like living in the Zone hasn’t stifled your humor, has it?” Clara smiled, showing off her pearl teeth. “Suppose it hasn’t.” The Tourist agreed, “Well, we better take care of the inventory before nightfall. Who knows what might creep out when it hits that point.” The professor nodded and returned inside the mobile lab, entering the airlock and shutting the door behind her. Both men waited for the hissing before moving on towards the nearby inventory. In reality, the inventory was a large shack made of the same material as the fence that was roughly twenty meters away from the lab. What was inside was most likely weaponry, detectors, lab equipment, gadgets, various suits, and other provisions that were necessary when dealing with extended stays within the Zone. Chason sighed, knowing this was going to take quite a bit. “… Okay, so eight ISG Standard SEVA Suits, twelve ISG Standard Sunrise Suits…” Chason looked up from the clipboard and pointed the eraser of his pencil at different piles, counting what he saw. “Ten Sig’s… Another ten TRs’… Five GP37’s…” He recounted quickly, “Yeah, that’s about it.” Chason stepped out of his end of the inventory and leaned towards Violinist’s, “Hey! You done yet?” There was no response for a few moments, with the sounds of objects moving and falling being the only evidence Violinist was still alive, “What the hell’s wrong?” Violinist leaned back enough for his upper body to be seen, “Man, you got to see this! Come check this out, now!” Chason smirked, expecting his friend to have found a glowing sausage or some other type of oddity not worth becoming riled up about. Of course, when he turned the corner, that thought immediately flew out the metaphorical window and was replaced by a gasp, a low jaw, and eyes fixated on what was in front of him. “… Good god… What is that?” Violinist pulled a clipboard to his face, eyes scanning left to right as he read, “’The CYSTA Hazardous Environment Exoskeleton (CYSTA HEE) is the leap forward in exoskeleton evolution. Note: A CYSTA Personal Exoskeletal Suit (CYSTA PES) is required to be worn by the user in order to use the CYSTA HEE to its proper effectiveness. While the CYSTA HEE is capable of providing help as a construction tool, among other things, it can also function as a weapon should it become necessary in the Zone’s dangerous environment. The primary use of the HEE is to be used in constructing the fencing surrounding the mobile… lab…” Violinist looked up from the clipboard to meet Chason’s eyes. Both felt the exact same emotion at that very moment. Not only were they angry that they had wasted hours just to set up the fences, but now there was a massive exoskeleton capable of making that job easier from the beginning. The Tourist used his boot to kick the large exoskeleton, doing nothing to chip its bright, lemon paint. He looked up at it, scanning it with his eyes. It stood roughly a bit over one and a half times his size, sitting down on the ground, that is. Thick plates of yellow-colored metal covered the massive exoskeleton, with fat hydraulic tubes and large servo motors running up and down the legs, arms, and connecting at the main body. The chest seemed to open as a hatch, holding in the wearer when they used the appropriate suit designed to work with the construction exoskeleton. A seemingly more than necessary amount of controls lied inside, putting the stalkers off a bit. Nonetheless, it was quite a marvel, if not one that came all too late. What could they possibly need it for now that its sole job was already taken care of through human labor? “Well, nothing we can do now. You get everything taken down?” Violinist nodded, “Yes, and everything’s there. Even this,” He pulled a bottle of vodka from off a nearby crate, “French.” Chason shuddered, “No thanks, I’d rather not.” “Same here.” Violinist placed the bottle back on the crate as they made their way out of the storage and back towards the mobile lab. Chason opened the door without a second thought and stepped inside, ready to hand over the clipboards while his partner waited outside. While he’d been inside of the Yantar mobile lab quite a few times before, he’d never actually been into the deeper, more restricted parts that yielded unknown contents and scientific equipment. When Professor Diederich wasn’t present at the main window, Chason assumed he’d have to enter the actual laboratory. The former stalker looked left and right, finding no signs of the other scientists, with the exception of Vicks, who was outside, and Okaidy, who was sleeping rather loudly in a bunk nearby. That still left four other scientists unaccounted for. He grunted and opened the door to the gut of the lab, cringing when the door shrieked horribly as he pulled back. He stepped inside and closed it behind him, only to find four sets of eyes staring at him. It soon became very awkward, especially so when Professor Diederich walked up to him and smiled before grabbing the clipboards. He nodded and made his way to exit before a voice called out to him. “Excuse me, young man, would you wait a moment?” Chason turned to find Professor Kalancha stepping towards him, a curious look on his face. “Yes?” “Have we met before? You seem quite familiar and I usually remember all of the faces I see…” The professor said, drifting off in his words towards the end. The Tourist nodded, “I was part of your faction for a few weeks, prior to the ‘Incident.’ I ran a squad of three and helped route out the Renegades.” The professor’s face lit up at that, the memories of that time flooding back to him, “Ah, yes! I recall it now; you brought in the Mercenary, correct?” His face turned slightly solemn, “It was a shame that those fellow scientists he was escorting were subjected to that massive emission.” “The Zone does not discriminate, Professor. It’s good to know that you’ve managed to survive against it, despite what’s happened.” “Yes, we were quite lucky. Come, young man, let us speak inside of the laboratory.” Chason nodded and followed Kalancha back into the room, this time without all eyes on him. Both Wexler and Diederich were studying the transmute, not making serious contact with the Clear Sky members. It wasn’t a matter of social awkwardness or separation of cultures, but more so the foreigners being intimidated by the two survivors of the Zone who knew so much more than they did. Anyone would become less confident if they were in the presence of two highly intelligent men. Ironically, both Kalancha and Suslov simply assumed they weren’t well liked by the foreigners, with being avoided by them a result of that. As he stepped in, he noticed Suslov sitting by a table, observing a tea kettle propped up atop a metal frame. Both Chason and Kalancha watched as Suslov placed a Droplets artifact underneath it, positioning the “eye” of it directly upwards and against the bottom of the metal kettle. In mere moments, the tea was already boiling, steam pouring out of the top almost immediately. The stalker held back a snicker, “I see you’re doing your part in the scientific pursuit of anomalous tea.” Suslov turned back and smirked, “A visitor? Come, have some tea. The herbs will help relax you after setting up that fence.” “No thanks,” Chason started as he pulled out his vodka, “That’s what this is for.” Kalancha’s brow furrowed at the sight while Suslov laughed, garnering the attention of the other two scientists who weren’t expecting such a thing from the reclusive man. Suslov stood up and stretched before turning to the two other scientists, “Would either of you like tea?” They both nodded and Suslov got to work, pouring the beverage into cups. Chason, however, stood up to leave. “I have to do my rounds and relieve the others soon. It’s going to get dark, so make sure you all stay safe.”  He nodded to the Clear Sky members and heard someone else speak as he left, “U-um, uh, sorry, but uh, could you… Possibly, you know, um, sorry, make that to go, uh maybe? If it’s, um, not t-too much trouble? I sort of, um, need a-a break. And stuff. Sorry.” The Tourist gave a very light snort as he left, amused by how Wexler spoke. The stuttering and constant “ums” and “uhs” were rare in the Zone, making it a fresh encounter for him. He stepped through the airlock, let the air purification process take place, and then promptly stepped out of the lab. Taking a breath of fresh air, the stalker headed over to the campfire some of his colleagues were situated around. There was less than half a dozen left that weren’t in their bunks, sleeping away the night. Violinist, Vicks, and two ISG Troops sat around on logs, making small talk to pass the time. For a moment, a heavy nostalgia set in, making the stalker feel at peace. White Mark, dressed in the formal attire that represented his rank, walked alongside Violet Light, who wore a fine, mauve dress. He glanced at her, trying desperately not to ogle her with his eyes who so desperately wanted to peek. Something about the way she tied her navy mane back, the way she flaunted her exquisite dress and stepped with flair left him near breathless. It was quite an odd situation to be in, what with him expecting to never be in a relationship so long as he served the Princesses. Nonetheless, he enjoyed himself throughout the dinner, the talking, and other formalities that were customary on a first date. They were heading down the many streets of Canterlot, with very few ponies passing them this late in the night. White Mark was left in wonderment at how he’d spent six hours with the forensics scientist, the time reaching somewhere around two in the morning. Both were fairly tired, but the General’s rigid training prevented him from fully showing it. Instead, his posture was straight and regal. Violet Light took advantage of this and slanted towards him as she walked, resting herself against his white coat. Of course, this left his heart racing, due to him never having been prepared for such interactions with the opposite gender. “So, how was dinner?” He asked, trying to hide his nervousness. “Mmm, amazing. I knew Canterlot had nice places, but that was too nice. You really didn’t have to take me there; it must have been so expensive!” She said, a slight shiver to her voice from the chilly night. The General picked up on this, however, and removed his suit’s jacket from his body. Without a word, he draped it over her and smiled all while continuing to walk. “I work one of the highest-ranking jobs under the Princesses, I’m sure I can afford to take you out to a nice place. Besides, I think a mare like yourself deserves it.” Not realizing what he had just said, he was caught off guard by a kiss to the cheek by Violet Light. White Mark cursed himself for having such immaculately colorless fur, which easily let his blush be seen by the mare giggling at his reaction. “Oh, a charmer?” She stopped and stood in his path, getting close to his face, “Am I in the big, strong hooves of a gentlecolt?” “I-uh-wel-“ The mare nuzzled his cheek, touched by his words, “Shh…” His body froze up for a moment before it slowly melted down to a more relaxed state. The stallion let out a deep breath and felt oddly at peace when she did that. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before and set a new feeling within his mind. White Mark returned the nuzzling, trying hard not to enforce his normally tough demeanor. Violet Light was left mentally surprised when he did so, making her cheeks flush from the action. She didn’t think a stallion like him would directly show affection, let alone in public. Then again… she cracked open her right eye, looking around the streets. They were alone. The mare could feel her heart beating quicker when she noticed the General loosen up from his macho disguise of masculinity. Unfortunately, the lovely moment between the two ponies was short lived. Out of seemingly nowhere, a brown foot rammed itself in the side of White Mark’s head, stunning him and knocking both of them a few feet back and on the stone streets. His vision went wild along with his ears, but the sound of a screaming mare forced all of it back into perspective. The warrior’s senses kicked in and he unfurled his wings. Flying now, White Mark’s eyes locked onto another abomination grabbing Violet Light and turning invisible. He was surprised it could do such a thing, but immediately flew after it, using the fact that Violet still being visible and held as a guide. The legs of the creature carried it quickly down alleys, toppling trashcans and other rubbish in its path. The General kept up, just nearly getting to it before it took a sharp turn and plummeted into an open stallion-hole towards the sewers and waterways. White Mark kept in pursuit, not stopping for even a moment. The fear that the monster would hurt Violet Light was more than enough to motivate the stallion to continue following. After a minute of travelling through the sewers, both parties took a dip towards the lower waterways, which led out of the city through vast crevices beneath. However, those waterways were far beneath the current ones, and would take hours to reach. Eventually, the creature stopped in a circular area, its hands muffling Violet’s screams for help. The room was massive, with tunnels in every direction. Water poured from higher up, falling into drains and crashing against the hard, stone floor with thick booms. White Mark took a stance on the ground, kicking up water with his front right hoof. Bent shapes within the light nearby, however, put dread in his mind. Chastising himself for being so foalish, the General realized he’d walked into a trap. The creatures turned visible again, this time with two more surrounding him, forming a triangle of sorts. He could just feel the smug faces (he couldn’t really understand how to read their faces, though) directed at him. Catwalks above rattled, catching the attention of the creatures. White Mark paid it no mind, assuming it was another one coming to help. What the General didn’t expect was for an explosion to occur above him, blowing chunks of stone and concrete off the ceiling and deafening his ears. He winced, feeling pain and ringing within them. Distracted, White Mark barely had enough time to see the rubble fall on top of the creature holding Violet, crushing them beneath it. He felt his heart stop, frozen in horror at what he just saw. Then, like lighting, an enormous creature that rivaled the others in height crashed down on the floor, splashing water and fracturing the floor beneath it with a deafening boom. It stood up and immediately went at the closest creature, using its metallic fists to knock it back and keep it from attacking. Left astonished, the General watched as the hulking monstrosity beat the other into submission on the floor, writhing in pain. It then lifted its large foot and slammed it downwards, crushing the skull of the abomination inwards and splattering the grey matter across the floor. The water turned red, bits and pieces of skull floating around lazily. White Mark reached out to warn the newcomer of an approaching monster behind it, but it was too late. The tendrils on the mouth of the creature snapped forward but couldn’t penetrate the thick padding around the neck. Settling for damaging its adversary instead, the brown predator swiped several times at its back, eliciting a single, muffled grunt. The creature elbowed the predator in the face, sending it stumbling back and launching water up. It quickly turned invisible and ran. The stallion watched, waiting for something to happen. The one that had killed already moved towards the center of the room, where a dry area a few meters in diameter resided. Its head darted in different directions, trying to detect the predator. White Mark leaned forward and gasped at what he saw next. The monstrosity, still invisible, made splashes of water as it ran to the back of the larger creature. It didn’t seem to take notice and stood there, still moving its head and sweeping with its eyes. Then, much to the awe of the General, it turned in one fluid motion, sticking its knife forward in the air. It became silent, with nothing happening for what felt like hours. The General thought the creature missed and simply froze up, but what really happened quickly revealed itself. The disgusting, brown creature turned visible before his eyes. Its tendrils were wrapped around the single hand of the fighter, desperately trying to remain alive. The knife was lodged deep within its skull through its left eye, most likely entering the brain in the process. The stallion knew that it had no chance of survival as it slumped to the floor into a dead pile. Blood poured out of its head, further dying the water. The only survivor then began to saw off the head, only reaching half way through before it just decided to tear off the head using its raw strength. It attached the skull to its waist, where several others also resided. The sight was sickening to the pony, who wanted to retch at that very moment. His eyes darted between the pile of rubble and the lone creature, unsure of what to do. He could attack the creature and capture it, or check to see if Violet Light was alive and hopefully just unconscious. His mind was made up the instant a muffled scream was heard from beneath the debris. Without a moment’s hesitation, the General flew quickly to the pile and desperately attempted to remove various stones. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t made any progress from moving them. Two grasper-type things reached out in front of him and grabbed a piece of the ceiling, easily hauling it off and tossing it away. White Mark’s eyes met that of the creature, whose glassiness unnerved him. He immediately backed up several meters and took an offensive stance. Growling, White Mark barked his words, “Stranger! What gives you the right to approach this city and terrorize its citizens? Why do you murder in cold blood?” It didn’t respond and simply kept at what it was doing earlier of removing debris. Another scream underneath forced the General to swallow his trepidation and zoom to the pile, shoving off pieces with great effort. His eyes lit up in relief when he was met with Violet Light, who was bleeding heavily from her head and was barely conscious. He used his teeth to grab at the scruff of her neck and pull the mare out, setting her on the dry area nearby. White Mark inspected her wounds, horror stuck to his face. Not many were superficial, if any at all, on the mare. One back and front leg each seemed to be broken, along with a few ribs. Blood caked her fur, coloring it a red-purplish tone. What really stuck out was that her horn was broken towards the top, chipped away and left a flattish stub. He felt a hand push him away from Violet Light, setting him back a few feet. “Hey! What do you think you’re do-“ “Quiet!” It bellowed, “Hold your tongue while the sacred tears of the Zone heal this daughter! Do not provoke me, infidel, or may the Holy Crystal give me the strength to strike you down with haste!” White Mark was about to respond, but realized the creature wasn’t paying attention to him anyway. It pulled out an odd looking object that glowed a warm orange and pressed it close to the forensics scientist. Nothing seemed to be happening for a good minute, prompting White Mark to reach out and motion to push away the hulking thing. The hoof stopped short and his jaw fell, watching the skin and broken bones mend and rebind together just as it was before. Her horn grew incredibly fast, returning itself to its former glory without a single stop. White Mark was left amazed at what he saw; barely able to take in the awe-inspiring greatness he had witnessed the object do. Before long, it was back on the creature’s belt, resting snuggly against his body. It hoisted Violet Light onto its shoulders and followed the way the two ponies arrived, with the General still watching it with interest. He watched as it climbed up the stairway to the surface, unspeaking. When White Mark arrived at the alleyway above, he found no traces of the creature at all, with it having disappeared entirely. White Mark stood still, fear present in his eyes as he watched Violet Light lay on the ground. She hadn’t moved at all in the five minutes they had been in an alleyway, driving him up the wall with worry. No wounds were present on her and she seemed to be unconscious for the most part. That is, until she started stirring awake and mumbling to herself. The General watched intently as her eyelids slowly cracked open, revealing the beautiful magenta eyes within. He breathed a sigh of relief, shutting his eyes. He nearly jumped back when he felt a pair of hooves pull him in close enough for lips to connect to his own. Unsure of what to do and left confused, the General threw away his rigidity and kissed back, feeling both of their heart rates quicken. They held it for a few moments longer, letting the passion sink in and the moment last. Eventually, she pulled away for a gasp of breath, panting against his face. White Mark suddenly began to feel his heart ache at not being with her again, locked together in an embrace. Violet grabbed him with her hooves and pulled the stallion into a hug, holding him tightly. “Thank you for saving me…” He sighed, relieved at how the situation turned out, “Anything for a mare like yourself…” Her stomach grumbled, making the moment more comedic than romantic, “I take it you’re up for another dinner and walk?” She looked at a nearby clock tower and smiled, “More like breakfast now, but I’d like that… and to spend more time with you.” 'She seems to have gotten over that traumatizing experience quite quick...' White Mark thought to himself. For the first time in a long time, the General grinned, feeling uncharacteristically happy. He helped her up to her hooves and soon they were back on the street. The mind of the stallion wandered, wondering if two dates in the same night was something to brag about. Pushing that to the back of his mind along with what had happened in the sewers, he glanced at the mare walking next to him and smiled, knowing that he was beginning to feel closer to her. This didn't distract him from his duty, however, as he stopped by a nearby guard post on the way to a diner. The stallion quickly scribbled down a letter, eyes shooting in different directions to make sure no one was watching. He read over the letter in his mind, trying to see if it was fit for the royalty that ran his country. 'Princesses, I've run into more creatures. They've delved into the waterways now, that is definite. Another creature has risen and taken to slaying those monsters, whom I am one hundred percent sure are kidnapping ponies to feed upon. They have amazing speed, strength, and the power invisibility. Their incredible deftness with killing should make them our highest priority and post armed guards near sewer stallion-holes. They seem to abduct ponies passing by and quickly dash out of sight. These abominations are becoming bolder, interestingly enough, as they now attack out in the open with more than one pony in the vicinity. The other, however, seems to find an odd satisfaction in killing them. For whatever reason, it rips the head off of the monsters and places it upon its waist, where quite a few others reside. It is definitely intelligent, as it speaks with a fluid, monotone tongue. There's something hidden beneath it that I cannot decipher, but I feel as thought it is repressing something. It holds a miraculous object that I believe may be of use to the country, though. This object literally heals anything it touches, including bones, skin, and horns! I believe we should capture this creature come morning, where, with you permission of course, I will lead a detachment of guards to hunt it down and subdue it. Its strength outmatches the killers, where it could easily lift large weights without so much as a grunt. We are dealing with a hazardous situation, Your Highness, one where we must act quickly. There is nothing else to report for now, but I shall keep you updated with new information as it arises.' The General wrote his signature and rolled the scroll up, tying it off to prevent it from opening. He sighed and felt himself drag low, tired from the experiences he was receiving recently. Somepony cleared their throat behind him and he turned to the guard in question. "Eventful night, eh General? Must be a nice mare," the guard said flatly. White Mark placed a single hoof on the guard's shoulder, "You wouldn't believe how eventful. Alert all nearby posts to watch the stallion-holes nearby. The murderers are exiting from there to kidnap ponies. And make sure Princess Celestia gets this letter." The guard took the letter before saluting, "Yes sir!" He ran off to get a unicorn to deliver the message between posts and to send the letter, something the pegasus guard couldn't do. White Mark exited the room and returned to find Violet Light standing in tight lobby. He nodded to her and they left the post, ready to finally grab breakfast and hopefully get some rest later on. "So," she began, "What was that about?" "Hmm?" "You're telling all of them what happened, aren't you?" He gave a confused look, "Yes, why? This is something that needs to be taken care of." "That means more work for the team in the morning," Violet groaned, "And that means I got to wake up early too." White Mark grinned, "Well, how about we get some pancakes and I'll walk you home? Deal?" "Deal," Violet Light confirmed with a kiss, "But don't think you're getting lucky tonight, you did let that monster-thing grab me." He cocked his head to the side in an effort to fake innocence, "Can you blame me for being distracted by you?" The mare smiled and bumped her flank against his, "No, I suppose I can't. But don't let it happen again!" "I won't." "Promise?" Taking initiative, he gave her a light peck on the cheek, "I promise." The four stalkers and two scientists lazily sat at the campfire, talking every now and then. There had been no action or reason for alarm all night so far and each of them either ate or drank some beverage to pass time. While the ISG Troops were required to be awake for this shift, the two scientists decided to spend time with them in hopes of possibly learning something about the Zone that didn’t know yet. Other than the fire, there was no lighting and not much could be seen past its light. Chason made a note to install floodlights and other sources for better security, knowing full well what could lurk in the dark. He bit a piece of his diet sausage and washed it down with a small swig of vodka, letting the burning sensation hit his throat. Violinist seemed to pull a guitar out of nowhere and began playing it, letting the tune drift through the crisp night air. Each of the other humans watched him use the instrument to great effect, lulling their anxiety. Chason joined in with his harmonica, getting some of the group’s attention himself. They played for a few minutes longer until something disturbed Violinist, forcing him abruptly stop and play a sour note. The five others looked at him, his body rigid and straight, until he uttered a few words, “A stranger approaches…” Chason felt his hackles rise, his spine chilled beyond normal. The two other ISG troops shuddered and sat down, attempting to make themselves as small as possible in anticipation of what was to come. Both Wexler and Vicks shared confused looks and stared at them, trying to identify what went wrong. The more skittish American nearly jumped when a gloved hand was placed on his shoulder, patting it once before squeezing with a bit more force than necessary. His eyes drifted up to see a stalker, clad in a SEVA Suit, looking down on him. Wexler glanced back at the others, each seeing their eyes as wide as saucers. The man swallowed nervously and stared back at the SEVA stalker. The image on the curtain helm was frightening; where it reflected the campfire more than he thought was possible. Time seemed to grind to a halt as he watched the fire on the surface of the helm grow exponentially, covering most of it in dark-red flames that bit at the top of the shiny head. The stalker simply stared at him, making the American’s heart race, “H-Hello. W-Who are y-you?” He felt another pat before the stalker removed his hand and spoke in a cheery tone, “Blowout soon, fellow stalkers.” Both of the ISG Troops fell off their logs, scrambling to their feet and making a mad dash to the mobile lab, which they locked as they made their way in. The two remaining stalkers took notice of this and cursed under their breaths, knowing that the situation was about to grow very dire. Chason’s ears twitched when he heard Vicks speak. “Oh, really? Wh- AGH!“ Chason violently grabbed Vicks by the arm and yanked him back towards the log he was sitting on. Violinist did the same for Wexler, who looked as though he were on the verge of a breakdown. The Tourist kept Vicks in a headlock, holding a hand over his mouth much in the same way his partner did to the other scientist. With a carefully slow tone, Violinist spoke to the SEVA stalker, “Depart from here! Leave this place, foul demon! We want no trouble and have no quarrel with you!” The stalker stepped close to Violinist, leaned in, pointed a single finger, and spoke tauntingly, “Blowout soon. Stalkers.” Chason gritted his teeth, “We said leave! You existence is a perversion of the Zone! We need not your advice, monster! Your information is wrong!” The finger slowly curled back into the hand and formed a clenched fist, with the entire body tensing up. The stalker released his hand once more and pointed it at the group one last time as he continued to walk away. “Blowout soon, fellow stalkers.” The SEVA stalker walked away from the light of the campfire and into the darkness, where his footsteps ceased immediately. Violinist aimed his flashlight at where the stalker went, only to find that there was no one there. He stood up and looked at the ground where the stalker was. Burn marks in the shape of boot-prints were etched into the ground, scorching all the grass underneath to the point where it was dead and smoking. Violinist shuddered at the close call. Chason released Vicks, who shoved the stalker and sat back down on his log in a huff. “Just what the fuck was that for, you ingrate?” “You idiot! Do you realize what you nearly did?” The scientist stood up, “I’M AN IDIOT? You’re the biggest joke of a human being here!” “Shut up! Both of you! We nearly got killed just now and you’re arguing? Grow up!” Violinist yelled in an attempt to quiet them. Wexler fidgeted uncontrollably, “K-K-Killed?! What?! How?!” Chason and Violinist shared looks and nodded to each other, with the former speaking, “Neither of you have been in the Zone before, but you should know about what happens here. Do either of you know what that was?” Vicks crossed his arms, “You mean ‘who?’” “No, ‘what.’ That was no stalker, let alone a man.” “W-What was i-it?” Wexler stuttered. Vicks slapped his shoulder, “What? You seriously believe this dribble their peddling? If that wasn’t a person, just what was it?” “That… that was the ‘Instigator.’ It’s… not natural,” he finished with a quick look over his shoulder. “The ‘Instigator?’ What kind of name is that supposed to be?” “That is what he does,” Chason spoke, “He disrupts the natural process of the Zone and instigates unnatural occurrences to happen. H-He can end lives with only a few words, wiping out whole camps just because it’s what he does…” “You’re kidding, right?” “No, this is no joke. It’s always the same. A stalker dressed in a normal SEVA Suit comes by and informs of a future blowout, waiting until he gets a response from someone. If they speak the ‘word’, then he begins his path of death and slaughters all life in the vicinity. If no one does, he’ll eventually leave the area and not return or be seen for weeks. He’s the stranger of the Zone, more than you foreigners. He can’t be killed and there’s no way to escape his destruction once he’s been talked to using the ‘word.’ He isn’t restricted by this reality or plane of existence. No world can hold him, and he is the traveller between dimensions. He is a monster, a deformed and twisted entity that lies in wait for a stalker to slip up. He’s the ‘Instigator.’” The life around the campfire fell silent at that, not one person speaking. Everyone looked at their own feet, considering such things in their head. For a while, they sat there, letting what had just happened sink in fully. Vicks, not entirely convinced but willing to take measures to preserve his life, stood up and headed inside the lab for some sleep. The other two stalkers looked at Wexler, whose fear-stricken face shot towards random directions, keeping track of every sound around him. “I-I, uh, um, I think… I-I think I’m g-going to have nightmares, um, for a b-bit…” Violinist tossed him a bottle of vodka, “Everyone has nightmares in the Zone, but maybe this will help.” Wexler nodded and unscrewed the back, taking heavy gulps and coughing violently as he headed inside the lab. Now that the two veterans were alone, they began to talk about old times and other recent topics worth mentioning. After a while, it came down to one certain question that had never come up before: their true names. “You know, you never really told me what you were called before coming here,” Violinist started. “I could say the same to you, man,” Chason retorted. Real names were an uncommon practice among Zone inhabitants, with only a few stalkers having used them. There was Oleg “Fiend” Gusarov, a well-known stalker, but not many others. Still, it was something that most stalkers never asked each other, no matter the circumstances. Once it was mentioned in the two stalkers' conversation, the air turned awkward. “Let’s share? You tell me yours and I tell you mine?” “Why do I have to go first?” “Why not? You’re afraid?” “Shut up, taunting doesn’t work on me.” He held out his hand jokingly, “Chason Juhurov.” His comrade grabbed it and gave it a firm shake, “Arkhip Maskhadov. Nice to finally meet you.” Chason grinned, “Yeah, same here, friend.” He glanced up towards the sky, which brightened considerably during the time they had been around the campfire. The sun was just beginning to reach over the trees, bringing its light down upon the stalkers. Both felt the warmth of it, and yet, it seemed different. The warmth held some kind of feeling to it that seemed natural, but odd at the same time. Violinist yawned and stretched his arms, “Our shift is over, let’s tell those bums to take over already.” Chason nodded, still captivated by the scene, “…Yeah, let’s do that…” They both walked inside the mobile lab, glad to have evaded one of the most horrible fates in the Zone, tired of all the work they had put in, and unaware of what was to come the approaching days. The Zone may work in mysterious ways, but unbeknownst to them, so did this world. Author's Notes So, the next chapter is here. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to ever introduce names into this fic, mainly because of that there are a decent amount of them. They'll still be using their Zone-Names, if it's any consolation. Also, try to figure out what the name "Arkhip" means. Might be pleasantly surprised. Now, if you've been around and did STALKER stuff on the internet, you'll know of the unnamed SEVA stalker who always warns of a blowout. I sorta gave him a name I thought fitting here. He won't ever show up again as far I'm concerned and it's more like an easter egg for anyone who gets the joke. Action will start soon, but I need to flesh out certain characters to do so. Don't get too attached to any characters though, I'll just say that now. That goes for any OC's or actual characters from either universe. Also, I might cover the other stalkers who may have stumbled into Equestria, such as that Freedomer I've decided to call "Borz." Also, one thing about the inventory scene. Don't hate on this, but the CYSTA suit is an extremely bright yellow exoskeleton you can get from the Yantar lab in that mod I mentioned in previous chapters, OGSE. I never realized it until I played that mod that it would make sense for the scientists to employ various types of suits for construction purposes. I mean, who the hell set up their fences? That's where the larger, non-personal exoskeleton comes into play. Same colors as the personal one, except this one is massive, can hold both you and your suit in the cockpit and is pretty much a pilotable vehicle. I wouldn't have put it in here if I didn't have a scene in mind where it would come in, hint hint. I'd like to thank Cody MacArthur Fett for pointing out something amiss with the helicopters I used, Slotos for mentioning how shit my translations were, and everyone else who said either how much they liked this fic or some other type of positive support. Anyway, I think that's about all I have to say for now. If I missed anything, PM me or some shit. Be sure to comment, because I do love to hear what people think of this fic. I hope you all enjoyed this and future installments of OaP. As I usually say, Stay Trilla. EDIT: Fixed that scene with White Mark. Fett was right, it did seem stupid to not have White Mark do some kind of shit. Of course, sending his boys into the sewers at night against a bunch of invisible dickheads is going to end like Operation Fairway. With Everyone Dead.