//------------------------------//
// Interlude: Back to the Present 
// Story: See the Zone and Survive 
// by RoadRunneR 
//------------------------------//


Interlude
Back to the Present



It was now around four in the morning and the 100 Rads Bar was now empty save for us four sitting around our table, and a few drunkards passed out on their benches. Even Barkeep had left for his quarters in the backroom a few hours ago, when the stalkers I was sitting with were attacking the second half of their story.

Everyone knows Barkeep doesn't have to worry about anyone breaking or stealing in his bar, since he is the main source of employment for us stalkers. If anything of his went missing, he would just have to offer a job to search and kill the responsible, and many stalkers would be happy to fulfill the task for a good reward.

The threat of such a possibility alone proved enough to dissuade any malicious intents.

“And that is how I met her,” Strider concluded, giving Celestia a kiss on the lips.

I looked with an almost avid fascination as the two lovers shared the kiss, curious as to how their anatomies matched to allow such an act.

I shook my head and looked away from the pair. “Now that is a story you don’t hear everyday,” I stated with a whistle, leaning back in my seat and gazing at the ceiling.

Vano let out a laugh and leaned in his seat. “A new faction appearing, under the command of an alien equine nonetheless… you could say that,” he commented.

“We did run into our share of issues at first though,” recalled Strider.

“Like?” I asked.

“Organization issues, budget, hardware shortages,” Celestia summed up, “but in the end, we prevailed.”

“You did a great job sorting everything out,” complimented Strider, giving his girlfriend a kiss on the forehead.

Marefriend, maybe? hehe.

Vano nodded. “That she did,” he added. “And Degtyarev was kind enough to not only get us in touch with his and Nimble’s contacts on the grey market, but also lend us enough money to start up. I swear, the guy is always richer than Rothschild, I never understood how he did it,” wondered the tall stalker.

“From what I heard from you all, he is quite productive,” I observed.

“Like you wouldn't believe,” replied Vano.

“But how did you get it to work?” I asked, before taking a gulp from my bottle. “I mean, having money is great to start up but that’s obviously not enough.”

Strider shrugged. “We started small, but organized. At first, we created two branches: an exploration team, the Rangers, led by Vano,” he began, eliciting a nod from his bearded friend. “They venture into anomalous or unknown areas and bring back artifacts or mutants. I, on the other hand, am at the head of the Spartans, a fighting force whose sole purpose is to fight and kill. Brute force, infiltration, long range engagements, whatever. I have specialized units for almost any task possible. We even take outside contracts from time to time when the faction needs an increase of income, that earned us the title of 'the other Mercs',” explained the buzz-headed man. “Most of the Rangers come from Freedom, a handful of them were stalkers and I think there are a few ex-Ecologists too now. Most of my Spartans were ex-Duty,  seasoned fighters. My old squadmates joined too.”

“Eventually, our numbers started to grow,” Celestia chimed in. “Some of our recruits, mostly ex-ecologists, even created a third division of our faction. Most of them analyze field reports and samples brought by the Rangers andwhile others take care of our equipment. Our faction never would have been able to develop that well without them,” she recounted. “We also had to find lieutenants. To nobody’s surprise, Vano chose Snag and my cuddle buddy took Rookie under his wing, which kind of shocked his old partners.”

Strider leaned on his seat. “Thankfully they stopped there, unlike some ex-Dutiers and ex-Freedomers,” he sighed. “I swear, these guys had left their faction but still couldn't stand each other! Our divisions have been quite secluded in the past.”

Celestia shook her head. “I even had to intervene personally to stop them from jumping at each other’s throat. I swear, they were no better than the spoiled nobles of Canterlot, bickering about unimportant rubbish and only thinking about themselves,” she spat. “Only this time, they were going to kill each others for real if I hadn't intervened.”

“And how did you ‘intervene’?” I curiously asked the alicorn.

“Magic, Royal Canterlot Voice and implied threats,” she simply answered. “I was tired of these nonsensical quarrels, and I gave up being subtle. Suffice to say one outburst was enough.”

Vano cringed. “You should have heard her! It was as loud as a grenade going off, and it was indoors!” he remembered with a shiver. “Everyone in the faction respected her and, if they didn’t, they learned to the hard way.”

Strider smirked. “Yes, my alicorn can be scary when she wants, a far cry from where she started,” he said, ruffling Celestia’s mane, much to her annoyance.

“Whatever,” muttered the jaded alicorn.

I let out a chuckle when a loud noise made me almost jump out of my seat in fright.

I turned to the source of the sound and huffed.

One of the drunk stalkers had, during his alcohol-induced stupor, slipped off the table he was slouched on and hit the ground with a thud. He just stayed there, slumped on the floor, unmoving and snoring as loud as a eighteen-wheeler.

Celestia looked at the unconscious man and sighed, before she nuzzled Strider, stood up from her seat and stirred her wings, revealing her full wingspan.

Whoa. Impressive.

“We better hit the sack,” said the alicorn in a commanding tone. “We leave at eight in the morning.”

Vano merely saluted and stood up, before he turned towards me, hand extended.

“It was nice knowing you, Runner, but I’m afraid we must part ways now,” he announced with a yawn. “We got a busy schedule, as you can guess.”

I scratched my head “Well, I mean… I don’t want to impose, but would you guys mind if I tagged along?” I hopefully asked.

Vano raised his eyebrows and looked at his friend Strider, who just shrugged and gave Celestia an interrogative gaze.

“Try to keep up,” simply said the alicorn, turning around and walking towards the exit of the underground bunker that was the 100 Rads Bar. “We have a long day tomorrow. We regroup with the rest of the faction in Cordon and our taxi to get us there won’t wait any longer than eight hundred and thirty hours.”

I stood up and jogged towards the exit, catching up to Vano who was closing the march behind his friend and the alicorn.

“Taxi?” I asked, eyebrow raised. “What does she mean by taxi?”

The bearded stalker in front of me chuckled. “You’ll see,” he replied over his shoulder, climbing the stairs to the surface. “You’ll see.”

I stayed silent and walked behind the small group of stalkers, wondering what they meant. The word ‘taxi’ meant a vehicle, and rare were the ones in working order in the Zone. I knew there were quite a lot in various degrees of abandon; ranging from jeeps to gunships, tanks, troop carriers… and the only factions to have successfully repaired a few of them were Freedom and Duty.

Meh. I’ll see.

Once on at the surface, I entered a derelict brick building right next to the exit of the 100 Rads Bar and put down my stuff in a corner, near a campfire where the others were already setting up for the night. Celestia and Strider had already taken off most of their equipment and kept only their tracksuits on, their armors laying on the ground next to the big sleeping bag they seemed to be sharing. Vano, in the meantime, had opted to keep his exoskeleton.

I looked at the big stalker. “You sure you want to keep that on for the night?” I asked incredulously.

“Padding, my friend, padding and climate control. My suit’s got it all!” he replied with a smirk.

I shrugged, took off my long leather coat and light bulletproof vest before I laid down a folded blanket on the ground and tucked my bulletproof vest under it, using its bulk as a pillow. I sat down on the makeshift mattress and took off my combat boots before I laid down and used my coat to cover myself.

I was used to sleep in such a manner. It may not be very comfortable, but at least I didn’t have to drag around a bulky sleeping bag. That left more room for supplies for my long trips within the unknown depths of the Zone.

And if these stalkers are to be believed, I am in for a big trip.

With that thought, I closed my eyes and fell into Morpheus’s arms.



	

“OI! Wake up!”

I woke up with a start, barely rested at all and still in the fog of tiredness induced by the long night of storytelling. I sat up and shook my head, before I looked towards the source of the voice that had woken me up.

Strider was standing there, sitting with his full height, one hand on his hip and the other clasping his big sniper rifle. He had already donned his armor and so had Celestia, who was turned away from me, busy packing her things.

I groaned and sat up, rubbing my head to try and shake off the last remnants of sleepiness.

“Come on, get prepped up,” I heard Vano’s gruff voice prompt me.

The bearded stalker was already fully equipped, which was to be expected since he had slept with his armor on that night. I let out a grunt and put on my boots.

“Give me five minutes,” I asked.

Celestia levitated her sleeping bag and secured it on Strider’s back. “Very well. We leave in five minutes.”

I nodded and took a loaf of bread from my backpack, taking a bite out of it before I began packing up. I put on my armored vest and my leather trenchcoat. I rolled my blanket, attached it to the top part of my rucksack and slid it on my back. Once that was done, I checked my P-99’s and my sniper rifle before I secured each of them in their place: my pistols in their holsters and my rifle slung behind me, between my back and my bag.

Satisfied with my getup, I took my carbine, checked its action and stood up, ready to go.

I gave the others a nod and we wordlessly left the small brick building. We headed towards a disused warehouse leading to the South exit of the Duty-controlled town wannabe. The guy on the catwalk greeted us with his usual grumpiness, we ignored him and got out of the building, as he advised.

I looked at the sky. It was grey, as usual, and the Sun barely pierced the thick layer of clouds of this cold October morning. A gentle breeze had picked up, ruffling the brownish grass bordering the road ahead of us. In the distance, I could see the last Duty checkpoint before the wilderness of the Zone leading to the Garbage.

“Where are they?” asked Celestia to noone. “They should already be here.”

I was about to ask her what she was talking about when I heard a noise coming from up the road. It sounded like a big diesel engine.

The guards up ahead at the Duty checkpoint seemed to have heard it too as they tensed up and readied their rifles, aiming towards the crest of the hill the noise was coming from.

The rumbling noise continued, increasing in intensity, seemingly getting closer and closer by the minute. Finally, a shape emerged from behind the hill.

It was a BTR. An old BTR-70, desperately outdated compared to nowadays military tech but in seemingly pristine condition, running with all eight wheels, turret, cannon and all.

Waiiiiit… hahahahaha what?

The armored troop carrier descended the hill at full speed, watched over by the guns of the Duty guards at the checkpoint we had reached by then. The vehicle began to decelerate before it cautiously halted, stopping about fifty meters from the checkpoint. The turret of the BTR then turned away from us and looked up the road it had come from.

“It’s alright, he’s with us,” Celestia informed the guards, walking up to them.

The red and black wearing stalkers gave the alicorn a wary glance before they slowly lowered their weapons, not taking their eyes off the armored vehicle in front of them.

Instantly, the door on the side of the troop carrier opened, letting out three men wearing the red and black colors of the Duty faction. They said something I didn’t understand and approached the checkpoint, greetings their colleagues as they passed by them. When they reached us, they saluted and the one who looked to be their leader walked up to Strider.

“Stalker, I cannot tell you how grateful I am towards you and your faction!” he began, shaking the buzzed stalker’s hand. “We got ambushed by Bandits and thought we were done for when your men came out of nowhere and blasted them all with their vehicle! Me and my men are forever in your debt, sir.”

Strider return the handshake. “Acknowledged,” he simply replied in a neutral tone. “Have a good day, officer.”

The Duty squad leader gave him a surprised glance and let go of his hand, before he turned around after saluting once more and went back to his men.

“So that’s why they are late,” commented Celestia, looking at the BTR with an eyebrow raised. “I’ll have a talk with them,” she added, walking towards the vehicle.

Strider, Vano and I followed her.

As I reached the APC, I put examined its paintjob and passed a hand on its hull. The angled surface was cold, it felt solid and smooth as glass. This BTR had just been put in service, judging from its state.

I turned towards the others. Celestia was nowhere to be seen, probably already in the vehicle, Vano was struggling to make his fit through the small opening on the side of the APC and Strider was looking around, his AN-94 at the ready.

I glanced back to the BTR. “Are you kidding me?” I asked incredulously. “A fucking BTR-70? That’s our taxi?” I added, looking back at Strider.

The stalker raised an eyebrow. “BTR-70K to be exact, the mobile command version. But yes.”

“You guys actually managed to restore an old military vehicle,” I stated, stunned. “And in full working condition with ammo, too, judging by the black residue on the cannon.”

Vano’s head peaked outside the APC. “HAH! One? You are in for a shock when we get to our rally point!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “This is not the only one we have, far from it.”

I stared at the bearded stalker in shock. “You… you mean you have several of these?”

“A few conventional vehicles, BTR-70’s, BMP-2’s, T-80’s, a T-64, MI-24’s and a few MI-26S’s converted for load and troop transport,” Strider stated matter-of-factly. “Most of which are used by my division of the faction. The entire central building of the Jupiter Factory has been repurposed as a vehicle hangar, full with workshop and maintenance bay,” he added. “We are bringing this BTR on operation Homecoming, along with most our vehicles, my car and all our airborne units.”

Vano laughed. “We would have taken more but then we ran out of choppers to transport everything.”

I let out a whistle. “Whoa. You sure that bringing that much troops and equipment is necessary?" I asked.

"Yes," replied Strider.

"From what we know, there are predators in Equestria that could give the Zone's mutants a run for their money, giant fucking bears and we haven't resolved the Merc problem we had back in the day," explained Vano.

Celestia appeared at the top of the APC. "When we managed to trace back Jackal and reach Pripyat, he and his men were already gone, all of them. A whole operation, a hundred men mobilized for nothing," she grunted.

Strider nodded. "I wish we wouldn't have to worry about them anymore."

"Worrying? You guys are the most heavily equipped faction in the Zone and you're telling me that a group of Mercs worries you?" I asked incredulous.

"That's when you stop worrying that you get thrown to the ground," bitterly replied Celestia, before gliding to the ground. "I learned it the hard way a long time ago."

"Still, you guys should take it easy, I mean you do have a lot to lose but that lot packs a punch!" I could only say, impressed. “You have to tell me how you ended up having that kind of hardware.”

“We stumbled upon an old Soviet vehicle yard,” explained Strider, climbing aboard the APC. “We also have a lot of very skilled technicians and good connections with the Ukrainian military. Give them enough money or a few artifacts and they will be more than happy to give up a few spare parts.”

I followed the others inside the armored vehicle. The inside was cramped, but there was enough room for all of us and three three more seats were unoccupied.

Celestia raised a hoof and tapped the steel wall separating our compartiment from the front of the vehicle.

A moment later, the engine rumbled to life and we began to move.

“Where are we going anyway?” I asked.

“To the Cordon,” replied Celestia. “We have two hundred and fifty troops on standby for operation Homecoming along with a platoon of the USS special forces lead by Colonel Degtyarev and two Ecologist labs and their crew. They even brought along a few helicopters, courtesy of the Ukrainian government so we can airlift everything to destination.”

“Wait, why would we bring that much stuff with us?” I asked. “What could interest the government so much they chose to support a Zone-based faction and help-”

“Because we’re going to Equestria,” interrupted Vano.

There was a moment where nobody spoke, the silence only filled by the rumbling if the diesel engine behind us.

“WHAT?!”

“You heard me. We’re venturing into an alien world.”

I opened my mouth and stared at the bearded stalker. “You guys found a way back?”

“Yes.”

“You gotta tell me the story behind that!”

Strider looked at Celestia, who silently nodded.

“Whatever, we have the time after all. That was two months ago,” began the buzzed stalker. “Our faction had already taken a certain scale when we were contacted by Hermann and his colleagues...”