This is a story of what happens when inhabitants of Equestria are shown a wasteland of decay, depravity, sadness and death. A S.T.A.L.K.E.R crossover. An experienced stalker and wanderer is teleported far, far away into a land of happiness and joy.
"A stalker's life was full of adrenaline and wonders, of loneliness and misery, of death and horror, mixed together in the maelstrom of madness that is the Zone."
A S.T.A.L.K.E.R crossover. Hiker, an experienced wanderer, stalker and trailblazer find's his way into the center of the Red Forest, unreachable ever since the Clear Sky faction was annihilated at the nuclear power plant and Strelok was sent back into the Zone. In it's dark reaches, he is contacted by the Forester, and through a twist of fate, ends up in the antithesis of the Zone, a land of magic and happiness. Yet not everyone wants a sedate, safe, contented life in Equestria...
For all those who have never played/understood the STALKER series: http://stalker.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page All the locations, anomalies etc in capitals will be on there.
The Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, March 2013, Somewhere South of Chernobyl NPP
Hiker was a stalker. A scavenger, a trespasser, an adventurer, a loner, a killer, an explorer, and a robber. He had been for almost eight months. His coming from the 'outside', as it was known, was like the start of a new life. The outside held nothing for him, just misery. In his time as a stalker, he had seen the re-exploration of the Zone after the second emission, the driving out of Freedom from the Dark Valley. How he remembered that fateful night. The bandits, reformed under a ruthless upstart Borov, swarmed into the Valley, catching Freedom with their pants down. He was nearby at the time, taking one of his treks across the Zone, close enough to hear the frantic radio chatter of Ashot and most of Freedom's men being gunned down as they slept by the bandits, and of Yar and Lukash leading the survivors out of the base, on an exodus through the night, over kilometers through the deadly wastelands and forests.
He had seen the time when Strelok, one of the few 'Marked Ones', left on his fateful trip to the NPP. A long time ago, he saw him in the flesh once. He was a cold man, his mind obviously disturbed by the machinations of the Zone. But that was another story, to be shared over vodka round the fire. Like all in the Zone, his outside name meant nothing, and all stalkers take new personalities as they enter the Zone. Hiker was an apt name, given to him by a grizzled, now dead veteran, who he'd led to safety through the zombie-infested Yantar.
He wandered through the Zone, taking routes through the abandoned, uncharted areas, going deeper into places than many wished to travel. He had been across the Zone many times, he knew the Cordon, the Garbage, the Agroprom, the Duty controlled wildlands of the Rostok factory complex and the swamps around Yantar like the back of his hand. These places were no strangers to Stalkers, and they were subdued and tamed over the years of occupation. Yet he had wandered roads and paths beyond the safe southern reaches of the Zone. He was one of few to claim to have been to the northern areas of Zaton and Yanov station, and returned. Few also ranged past the army warehouses, his current location. The Freedom base in the abandoned army base was the last bastion of any semblance of civilization in the Zone, and was the last stop on the famous road that led all the way from the edge of the Zone, at the Cordon, directly north, all the way the Chernobyl NPP itself. It was on this road that his current path led him, for the time being. To go too far meant death, even with the destruction of the Brain Scorcher by Strelok some months previously. The Monolith faction, still very much alive, were in resurgence after the bloodshed of the scramble to the center after the Scorcher went down. The numbers of Duty, Freedom and Military men 'possessed' by the Monolith was scary to even consider.
Pondering over, he rose from his dozing by the small hut nearby the defenses at the Barrier, and began heading down from the low rise. Checking his gear, he set off into the dark, dead woodland in the gorge that led north, along the NPP road. Like many experienced stalkers with a penchant for artifact hunting, he wore a SEVA suit, worn and battered from extended use, Despite the wear, it offered the best radiological and environmental protection of anything but an exoskeleton. Over it however, he wore a long raincoat, similar to the type worn by bandit leaders, dyed with camouflage patterns, with his rucksack slung over his back. While his apparel signaled him as a veteran of of the Zone, his armaments did the opposite. All he carried was a compact sawn-off pump-action shotgun, rusty from wear, and his old self-modified AK74m, shortened, lightened and silenced for prolonged use outdoors. It was practically a pea shooter compared to the powerful NATO assault rifles favored by the Freedom patrols and Exoskeleton-clad Loners deeper into the Zone. However, they would be breaking and misfiring after 2 weeks use, and when deep in the Zone, repair tools and skills for the shiny expensive western guns were few and far between.
As the hours passed, the dead trees stopped, and the first signs that this used to be Monolith territory became apparent. On either side of the road lay their traditional warning signs, long dead stalkers, impaled on stakes, mutilated and decaying. Hiker paid them no notice. Sights like this were grimly common the deeper one went into the Zone, as those seeking the center met increasingly grisly ends at the hands of the mutants or the Monolith fanatic nut-jobs. This entrance to this hilly, wooded valley that lay up ahead was deserted. As he reached the end of the gorge, the sight before him was common in the Zone. Ahead lay twisted, rotten, dead trees, covered in moss and lichen, surrounding the concreted road leading north, littered with debris from the original extraction and clean up in '86.
Starting down the road, he picked his way through the abandoned vehicles and piles of junk and rubble, searching for booty. All around old steel manufacturing parts and girders jutted out of the piles, resting everything from old fridges to army lock-boxes. Clambering up the piles of Soviet trash, he spied a long wooden stock and gun mechanism protruding, masked by old steel frames. Lying on his front, he tugged on it, to no avail. After struggling silently for a moment, he clambered up, putting his feet either side of it, yanking it hard.
Suddenly, a deafening crack broke the silence, as a bullet ricocheted off a metal strut barely a foot away. Another rang out as he fell back in shock. The bullet just caught his left arm, spinning him forcibly off the pile. Ears ringing, clutching his wounded arm in agony, Hiker stumbled and crawled. Stopping after a meter or so, he lay on the floor, taking it all in. Ambush. Sniper. Shot. Bleeding. He looked down, blood was emanating through a gash in his coat, pouring out thickly.
From experience, he dug out an antiseptic bandage, gasping in agony as he pulled up his sleeve to apply it. The bullet had hit just above the elbow, ripping through the muscle and maybe even smashing through part of the bone. Then he realized just what deep shit he was in. A monotone chant came nearer and nearer, over and over:
“All hail the Monolith. Scourge the Zone of the disbelievers of the Monolith. All hail the Monolith. Give strength to the preservers of the Monolith. All hail the Monolith...”
The Monolithians on patrol were here, and now coming to kill him with all the tenacity and ferocity of rabid dogs. Stumbling to his feet, he ran, crying with pain, as fast as he could for the tree line on the side of the road. As he felt grass under his feet, he heard the chatter of machine guns open up behind him, firing full auto in a barrage of lead. Dashing through the trees, almost bent double, he saw splinters and chips flying from bullet impacts around him. The forces of the Monolith were not known for precision or tactics, but the application of sheer indomitable force.
As the sound of guns dropped off, and the fanatics went to find more prey, he continued running. His Geiger counter was clicking frantically as he passed sections of piping from the long, snaking pipeline running perpendicular to the road, marking the old unofficial boundary of the Brain Scorcher. Thankfully it was long turned off, yet the woods were still full of haunted beasts that had escaped their dark abodes deep within the Red Forest. Every so often, he heard a bark or a snarl, pushing him on further west, deep into the wilderness of the Zone.
When the immediate danger stopped, he almost collapsed to the ground. His arm was slowly losing blood, his legs were tired, his stomach was rumbling, and light was beginning to fade. Above the boughs of the trees, the six great antennae that gave the Radar it's name were visible to the north. To the west, the trees grew darker and the leaves redder, leading to the Red Forest. After re-applying a bandage, he cut down a few branches, and started a small fire to cook up a pie tin from his sack. For an hour, he sat at peace, tending to his wounds, and hungrily wolfing down his dinner. He would need the energy in the coming night.
The greatest horror of the Zone is the night. At night, the nocturnal mutants and beasts replace the diurnal to prowl for food. Though the number of dogs, boars and fleshes drops, more terrible things replace them. Snorks and other worse creatures that are sensitive to the light of day go rabid at night, hunting in packs, especially in the Red Forest, and surrounding swamps and woods of the Yantar and Radar. Without a large group, one cannot camp safely in the wilderness of the Zone.
Yet, the nights in the Zone hold a different terror. The further into the Zone you venture, it's insidious low level psy-emissions play on your conscience, in ways not even understood by the scientists doing field research on it from their bunker in Yantar. This field, over time, they think may cause schizophrenia and psychosis or other such illnesses, and many a stalker has gone crazy deep in the Zone, by not returning to the relative safety of the southern areas. These emissions also cause nightmares. Nightmares so bad that it is not unheard of for stalkers to die of heart failure in their sleep, from fear alone. The only protection is a Faraday cage, leading to the legend of always sleeping with one's head in a bucket when in the Zone.
As the sun set, Hiker turned on his SEVA suit's basic night-vision system, turning the world into fuzzy shades of green. He set off west, towards the setting sun, his USP handgun in his hand. For over an hour, he walked, listening attentively to the click of his Geiger counter, skirting the invisible radiation pockets and stray gravitational anomalies. As the hours and kilometres passed, the forest seemed subdued, almost dead of life in the murky moonlight. He checked his PDA, looking at the map uploaded onto it. Maybe a kilometre remained till he reached the central body of the Red Forest, with its dark, oppressive glades that were deprived of light even during the day.
Suddenly, he heard snarls and groans over the steady click of his detector. He saw motion in the dark bushes, as something moved towards him. Slamming on his head-torch in fear, he saw nothing, just the waving and shaking of the bushes in the wind. Yet the snarling was still coming closer. And the air in the forest was still and lifeless, insulated from gusts. He took a step back, watching the rustling approach nearer and nearer, closer and closer. With sudden roar, the foliage in front of him exploded, revealing nothing. Apart from two yellow dots suspended in mid-air.
Reflexively, he brought up his pistol, firing it into the stomach of the materializing Bloodsucker leaping at him, interrupting it's charge as it collided with him. Scrambling frantically, he leapt to his feet, and bolted. Sprinting as fast as he could, he dashed through the trees, ignoring the warning clicks. listening only to the sound of the beast chasing him. He ran and ran, until a stray root in the treacherous dark intervened. He crashed face first into the dirt, sprawled on his front. He rolled onto his back, pulling the shotgun strapped to his thigh from its straps. Lying on the floor, holding his old pump action shakily, he waited for his hunter. Silence reigned, until he heard the grim rustle of footsteps.
The Bloodsucker, its invisibility ruined by the bloody hole in its torso, staggered towards him. The yellow eyes of the mutated humanoid looked almost pleading as he emptied buckshot into them. Lowering his shotgun, he took in his situation. He was in the Red Forest proper now, somewhere near the centre. His suit was ruptured in a few places, not to mention his wounded arm, and he must be bruised and cut all over. To top it all off, his AK74 had been lost in the struggle, and he had sprained an ankle. He was in serious danger now, all it would take to finish him off would be a pack of dogs, or a snork or two.
Unsure of his direction or location, he started to limp towards an area of trees lit up more by the moonlight than the rest. As he neared it, the trees began to stop altogether, and he reached a place he had only heard of in tales and stories. Before him was a circular clearing, easily 100 meters across, lit up by the waxing moon in the cloudy night sky. In the centre of it, huge tendrils of earth stretched up to the sky, shaped by the huge swirling and shifting anomaly at their core, curling them around it.
This was the Claw anomaly, one of the largest single anomalies in the Zone. It lay almost unreachable in deep in the forest, and only a handful of stalkers had ever seen it and returned alive. He approached, gazing at the huge claws reaching for the sky, and rested by some crates and fire pits of long abandoned stalker camp, taking in heat from the copious burner anomalies in the base of the claw. Strewn around it, long, thick bones lay old and chewed. By their size, they must have belonged to a pseudogiant. Gulping down some vodka to dull the pain, his eyes began to close and his breathing slowed as he came down from the adrenaline of the past hour...
Jerking awake, Hiker's eyes smarted at the watery sunlight peeping through reddish clouds pouring into the clearing as a sharp beep rang his eyes. Fumbling for his PDA, a radio transmission started to play from the speakers: “What are you doing sleeping out there stalker? It's not safe. My name's Forester. I used to be the caretaker of these woods decades ago, and now I look after those few guests I have here. You won't find any help nearby, all the roads to this part of the forest were blocked by the third great emission, you're only the second stalker ever to reach it afterwards. Frankly, I'm amazed you got through to the Claw. To reach my tower at the edge of the forest, you'll need to go north about a kilometre, following the animal track. Eventually, you should find an old tank. Don't ask me how it got there. On top of that, there's a space anomaly. Jump into that and you should be safe. You won't be able to contact me, the woods break up the signal awfully. If all goes well, I'll see you in a few hours.”
Hiker sat stunned, digesting the instructions this 'Forester' had given him. The track he meant was fairy apparent. Maybe he would get out of these woods faster than he planned. Spurred on by the prospect of the possibility of hot food and a warm bed, he scooped up his sack, and inspected his arm. As he worked, rain began to fall, and the clouds became noticeably thicker and redder every passing minute. Thankfully the sniper had missed the joint, and only taken a lump of flesh instead. Even so, it would take weeks to heal fully without a medic back a faction base looking at it. Testing his weight on his sprained leg, he set off down the trail, leaving the sunlight behind, as his PDA bleeped into life again.
“Stalker, run for the space anomaly! There's an emission inbound! Run!” Looking to his right, the base of the clouds were a deep blood red, moving closer and closer, as wind gusted through the trees. Limping in a half-jog, Hiker stumbled as fast as he could, teeth gritted with the pain in his leg. Pushing on through the woods, he staggered over a low rise. The wind picked up, as irradiated dust set off his radiation meter, making the slow click grow with an ominous urgency. As a large silhouette in the dark glade ahead came into view, the slow rumble of the emission shook the ground, and a low roar built up and up, hiding his Geiger counter. Heaving himself up onto the scarred battle-tank, he crawled towards the wildly fluctuation space anomaly above it. Looking at the sky a final time, he saw the great red wall of deadly roiling clouds that marked the peak coming ever closer, almost upon him. He reached into the ball of shimmering air above him,
Equestria, 3 Years after the defeat of Nightmare Moon, Deep in the Everfree Forest
Hiker awoke. A blue sky filled his eyes, ringed with tall green trees. Everything looked peaceful. He lay on his back, savouring the welcome rest after his ordeal in the Red Forest. The air felt cleaner here, invigorating his body. He knew instinctively that he was safe.
Sitting up, resting on his sack, he pulled out his PDA. All it showed was static. He pressed some buttons, causing it to fizz and hum, apparently completely fried by the Space Anomaly. Gathering his thoughts, he looked around him, trying to spot a landmark. He saw nothing he recognised. No NPP, no towering antennae from the old Brain Scorcher facility on the horizon. Both were a few kilometers away, and both were a constant sight near the center of the Zone. Where the hell had Forester's anomaly led him?
He went through his supplies. Bread, sausage and vodka, check. Shotgun shells, check. Medical supplies and anti-rad meds, check. Two boxes of 5.45x39 ammo, check. PDA, check. Two clips for his USP, check. Sleeping bag, check. Spare vest and boxers, check. Compass, check. Wrenched, Moonlight and Gravi artifacts, check. 2 F1 grenades, check. Veles detector, check. He had enough kit to last a few days at least, though his AK would be sorely missed. With only a handgun and a sawn-off pump action, he would be screwed beyond belief in a firefight. That didn't seem to be a problem, thankfully. He wasn't even sure if it really was the Zone. The inbuilt Geiger counter in his Veles read less than 8 counts. He had had bigger readings in Sidorovich's bunker. Readings that low were impossible in the Zone. That was the final proof. He wasn't in the Zone. He was in pine forest, somewhere, possibly anywhere in the entire bloody world. It was sunny. That was the extent of his knowledge. He screamed in frustration at this place, his life, the Zone, at the Forester, at the anomaly that took him here, fuming violently, until his profanity filled rant slowly came to an end. He was powerless, manipulated by cruel fate. His tired and depressed mind came up with the only solution. All he could do is to walk and hope not to starve out here.
Hours passed in the forest. The trees grew twisted and gnarled, not unlike those of the Zone. What he would give to be back there, in his element. It was a long-standing paradox, why stalkers remained in the man-made hell of the Zone. Surely no sane man would choose to live in such a place. Yet still, all those who could survive in the Zone were always drawn back to it, like flies to honey. It was the thrill of complete freedom, no dull drudgery, no boredom, no normal life. A stalker's life was full of adrenaline and wonders, of loneliness and misery, of death and horror, mixed together in the maelstrom of madness that is the Zone.
He felt out of place in this comparatively idyllic forest, full of strange plants and trees. many vaguely familiar, but none he truly recognised. As the strange sights passed his eyes, the reality began to sink in how far from his deadly home he was. Everything just looked so alien, so different, that he felt his longing for the irradiated wastes return as strong as ever. Until his was reverie interrupted by the strange hut standing in front of him. It seemed to be made from the same twisted wood as the trees around him, it cast an odd sight, adorned with almost-African tribal masks and totems. Walking round it, he realised that it was gown, not made, a carved out tree, not a wood-clad hut. His whole journey so far since the anomaly could be summed up by the words “What the fuck.” Entering through the door, at least 3 feet too short for him, he found himself in a spacious, low-roofed room, complete with iron stove, odd voodoo masks, strange herbs and bottles of even stranger liquids, a chair and tables sized perfectly for children, and what looked for all the world like a chemistry set.
Settling himself into the deserted tree-house, he prepared for a night in this alien place. He lay against a wall in his sleeping bag, watching the calming patterns of his Moonlight artifact glow in fading evening light, like a soft blue sun, shifting and swirling. He was careful to keep the Wrenched next to him to cleanse the deadly powerful radiation given off by the beautiful blue Moonlight. Removing it back into the foil-wrapped bag he kept it in, he lay there, at peace for once in his life, no longer on the run, or in danger of death. He began to doze off in his warm sleeping bag...
__________
“ “AAAGGGHHHH!”
For once in his life, he was woken by a girly scream from next to him. Slamming upright, he fumbled for his USP and held it shakily at the 'thing' standing before it. For all the world, it looked like a small, mutated Zebra with a bulbous head and large eyes, with pupils dilated in shock at obviously seeing him sleeping its house. It was wearing all sorts trinkets and charms, looking for all the world like some strange shaman. As the adrenaline started to get to work hurrying his thought processes, he wondered how a small mutated Zebra would have a house, not only furnished, but also complete with herbal drug factory.
His mind collapsed. All he had seen, all the people he had watched die, all those he killed, all the times he had escaped death himself, all the nature defying sights of the Zone, all the time spent in the brain-frying psy-emissions, all of that, and now this fantasy stuff he was witnessing right now sent him over the edge. What could he do? The world he lived in was beyond crazy, all he wanted was escape from it all. He raised the gun to his mouth, finger on the trigger...
“Who are you, strange creature in my abode, carrying such a strange load-”
In shock at watching speak , he pulled the trigger, firing the high-calibre .45 round through his cheek, blasting apart his jaw. All he made out through haze of pain, before blood loss took him, was the Zebra, a shocked and concerned look on her face, forcing a cold liquid down his throat, holding bandages to his ruined face.
__________
His eyes opened. The ceiling before him was white. Looking to the side, he saw a machine bleeping away, next to the bed he was in. Surrounding the bed were light green curtains. He was in a hospital. How? Was everything a dream? The mysterious Space Anomaly? But there were no hospitals anywhere near the Zone...
How was it possible? Lifting up his hand weakly, he touched his face. Everything felt numb and smooth, until he found a stitch over a large scar, and another, and another. Then what if it was real, with the taking mutant, and the strange hut? How was that possible? He didn't know what to think. He barely had the energy to move, let alone see what was happening. Thankfully someone had saved him. He should be dead, he knew it
Delving deep into the soft bed, the first he had slept in for months, he continued his observation of the room. All his kit, weapons, SEVA suit and rucksack included, were missing. That wasn't surprising. However, his legs were tucked up, resting at the bottom edge of the bed. Why was it so short? Putting that matter to one side, he looked back at the strange machine bleeping his pulse, with lights on and off for all sorts of readings and displays. It had a glowing antennae atop it. The only things he recognised were several small buttons marked 'On/Off', 'Call Nurse' and 'Calibrate for Patient'. He slowly pushed 'Call Nurse'. The machine bleeped in approval. Hopefully he would get some answers for his many questions. Hearing hurried footsteps and chatter, he looked up, watching the nurse enter through the curtains.
It was another one of those things. This time though, it was white all over, with red hair, a unicorn horn on it's head and a nurse's uniform. If he wasn't so shocked and scared, he would have laughed at the strange-looking thing stood before him, that bore most resemblance to some equine creature.
“What...” he croaked out through his mutilated face and mouth.
“You speak?” The creature looked just as shocked and puzzled as he felt. “I... umm, am Nurse Redheart. Is there anything you.... want or need?” Hiker coughed and choked, trying to get out a word, as the nurse continued. “Well, we managed to fix your jaw and cheek, though you've now got yourself a large scar. Serves you right for playing with that firework device you had. After Doctor Splint finished regenerating the tissues, we had to use stitches I'm afraid. Even these modern wound regeneration spells can only do so much. Your forehoof-, wait, er, arm, ah that's it! We patched up your arm, and thankfully that we could fully repair. There isn't even a scar. Now you just have the normal full body repair incantations to fix up all those nasty cuts and bruises.”
He didn't know what to say, even if he could. A unicorn had lectured him on how he was being fixed with spells. That hurt just thinking about, even the mysteries Zone made more sense. He just sat there staring and breathing heavily.
“Tell you what, I'll just give you some more painkiller, and let you sleep it all off...”
It's horn glowed, and the antennae shined brighter than before. As he sat, completely stumped by all that had happened, he felt the painkillers start to sedate him, make him feel sleepy....
When Hiker woke, his eyes were met by soft candlelight glowing across his bed. Just by stretching and moving, he felt better, though a dull ache filled his mouth. Going over what he remembered of what the thing said. Apparently he was healed with magic, a fact confirmed by that the strange antennae on the machine next to him was still glowing. Flexing his arms, he lifted his left up to assess his wound. Nothing. True to its word, the thing was right that there wasn't even a scar. He could barely make out any sign of the bullet wound, unless this was one long hallucination. Sighing, he had to decide what to do next. The presence of the candle obviously meant that it was night-time, and he would have to retrieve his gear if he wanted to escape this fantastical world. The problem was that he had no idea how to return to the location of the anomaly to escape.
He decided to act. Pushing the 'Off' button, he slipped out of the bed onto his feet, still slightly sore from the kilometers of walking in the last few days. It was only then he realised he was stark naked.
“Fuck.”
The creatures had apparently nothing to fit something of his shape, and the nurse-thing wasn't exactly wearing much. This could make things awkward. He slowly peered through a gap in the curtains around his bed. He was in an otherwise dark empty room, with a door at least 2 feet too short for him on the opposite side. Pushing through, he padded silently up to the door. Pressing his ears up to it, he listened.
“Clack clack. Clack clack clack clack clack...”
He peered down through the observation window, watching another unicorn, wearing a doctor's lab coat, walk by. Following it along, it disappeared into another, lit up, room. Carefully pushing the door ajar, he slipped out, keeping an eye on the room the doctor entered. Quickly making his way along the corridor, he turned into another, looking for signs. None were helpful, just wards with horse-pun names. Crossing the hall, to a window, he saw the ground a way below him, too far to jump. Wandering further, keeping silent, he saw a sign for the stairs. Walking into the stairwell, lit with small, blue-flamed torches, he went down and down, looking at the signs for each floor: “Magical Ailments”, “Royal Princess Wards”, “Operating Theatre”, “Reception, A&E and Storerooms”. Storerooms, that was what he needed. Looking through the window in the small door however, it was clear this whole floor was lit, and he could hear something muttering in the distance, in the direction of the Reception. Pushing through, he walked quickly along the back corridors, avoiding the reception, following the signs for the stores. Rounding the corner, he saw one of the creatures, walking towards the storeroom entrance, thankfully facing the opposite direction. Watching move to enter, he saw it draw out keys.
“Damn, keys, I can never remember which one of you opens what.”
Something felt amiss, as if the sight was trying to tell him something. Suddenly, it dawned on him that the door would lock him out, and his things in. That would not be good. Clambering forward on all fours, as quietly as possible, he drew up behind the tired thing, his sounds hidden by the jangling of it's key in the lock. Seeing his only chance, he clasped his arm round its neck, covering its muzzle with his other. Wrenching and pulling, he writhed as the shocked thing struggled in his grasp, resisting his attack. In silence he fought it, trying to control it's surprising strength. With a wrench, it broke free for a second, managing a small cry before Hiker clamped back on, twisted with all his might, snapping it's neck. Pulling it inside the unlocked door, he dumped the corpse in a corner, hurrying to find what he needed before one of the creatures noticed it's disappearance. Searching through shelves of strangely shaped clothes and various miscellaneous items, he found what he wanted: his SEVA suit, USP, shotgun and rucksack, left in a big metal deposit box in a corner.
Suiting up, he grabbed his sack, digging out a silencer to fit his USP and screwed it on. Slinging his pack onto his back, and strapping his shotgun to his thigh, he was set, Holding his pistol ready in front of him, he crept back to the doorway, taking care to leave the mutant's corpse out of sight. Almost everything had gone as planned, apart from one thing. His getaway. The red light of dawn was shining through the windows, showing a town outside surrounding the hospital, starting to wake up.
Surely they must have noticed his absence by now, and it would only be so long before they found him if he stayed. Checking that nothing was watching, he pulled out his shotgun, and swung it by the barrel smashing through a window. The SMASH of the glass shattering destroyed the calm of the early morning town, resonating through the widely spaced houses that resembled something out of a fantasy novel in their appearance. That would surely have woken them all up now.
Shaking the shards of glass from him, he vaulted through the wide-open window, and sprinted through the back alleys, passing all sorts of strange and wonderful buildings, thanking the weight reducing effects of the Gravi in his webbing with every step. The winding streets led him on and on, as he ran for his life through the idyllic fantasy village, puffing and gasping through gritted teeth for air. As he began to slow, he heard the clamour of the mutants waking to investigate more and more, converging on him. The hospital was some way away now, and ahead of him he could see a tall, majestic oak poking above the rooftops. He was close to freedom. As he passed an opening into a large high street to his left, he turned, and saw-
“HEY, WHERE D'YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING!”
A tan mutant, wearing an out-of-place cowboy hat, hurling a lasso at him. This world was getting stranger by the minute. It wrapped snugly round his head and arm, slamming him into the floor. Winded, yet still thrumming with adrenaline, he ripped out his pistol, and fired wildly. Most of the shots went wide, he wasn't a crack-shot at the best of times, yet one still found it's mark, the high calibre round impacting in its shoulder, knocking it to the ground.
Breathing heavily, he fumbled with the ropes as he scrambled up, trying desperately to escape. Looking back, he saw a large book, enveloped by a purple-pink glow, fly through the air at his head, slamming his vision into darkness once more.
When Hiker woke, he was bound to a chair in a circular hall, surrounded by some kind of purple force-field. Standing in front of him were at least 20 of the equine mutants, looking angry, to say the least. Their faces ranged from the fear of the yellow one with pink hair, the confusion of the white one with shining purple locks, to pure the anger and hatred the two walking towards him.
The first of them, purple all over, powering the purple shield with her magic, approached him first, the look in her eyes emanating power and anger, yet also disappointment, coming as close as it's magical shield would allow.
Drawing in breath, it raged:
“Who are you, you animal, to kill and wound innocent ponies on a whim? Of all the creatures of the Everfree Forest, you are one of the most despicable. I know you can understand me, Nurse Redheart told me you spoke Equestrian. Do you like killing ponies, since you obviously don't eat us? Applejack, the one you fired your firework-weapon at, is wounded in hospital, and the family of the janitor you killed are distraught! Explain yourself!”
Spitting blood from the split lip where the book had hit him, he around, dazed, trying to take in what this 'pony' had said. It was obvious now though, thinking back over what he had seen, that this was an advanced, sentient civilization, not just beasts like those in the Zone. The similarities were scary to think about. How were they speaking English, or at all for that matter? How come their houses, their hospital, their (occasional) clothes, and even their appearance resembled things back on Earth, as this couldn’t be anywhere on Earth. Looking back up at the fuming unicorn, he replied:
“I'm not from this 'Everfree Forest'. I'm not even from you're world, or whatever this is. I'm a human, not some animal. What are you, anyway? I didn't want to come here.”
“Then why did you kill an innocent pony? That makes you an animal in my book!”
“I... I did it because... “
He realised the truth, that he had no real reason, other than it suited his needs. It wasn't even really necessary. He could have just stayed in his hospital bed, and come to terms with this place quietly and peacefully. What he did was no different to killing an innocent person in cold blood. He mulled it over, silently trying to justify what he did, and failing.
“You understand?”
The purple pony was looking down at him, aware of his inner turmoil.
Hiker nodded.
“That's a start, but I'm going to make sure you talk to the Princess about this. You don't seem at all stable, considering your suicide attempt. However, I want to find a few things out first.
If you say you're not 'from this world', then where are you from? It's too much of a coincidence that you speak Equestrian, and have a fairly normal body shape.”
Her horn lit up further, and a magical cloud floated around his body, probing and passing through him. He shuddered dully at the strange sensation. He truly felt like shit. His whole life was collapsing around him. He barely paid attention to the unicorn, which was going from being angry to puzzled at their impossible similarity.
“Your biology resembles ours almost entirely! Most organs are almost identical, just different sizes, even your brain. How is this even possible? Hmm, your digestive system indicates you eat both meat and plants, is this true?”
“Yeah”
“Would you eat a pony?” She said warily, afraid for his response.
“I wouldn't, no”
She looked visibly happier at that, at least.
“So, this place you come from, tell me about it.”
This would be a tall order. How do you sum up humanity in anything less than an encyclopaedia?
“I am a human, a species evolved from monkeys. Unlike you, in our world, magic is pure fantasy; all of our progress as a species has been through technology. Humans generally live for around 70 years, though we peak between 20 and 30.”
“Interesting, but what about civilization? Do you act like you did here back at home too?” She still looked seriously angry.
“Well, throughout the entire history of world, we are moderately peaceful, civilized creatures, our lives dictated by order and stability, when times are good. Problems come however when different civilizations start to bicker and fight, or crazy, radical people get power, and from there, well, things get nasty...”
He gave a quick summary of the 20th century, stopping the purple pony from interrupting whenever he brought up a more sensitive topic, especially the world wars. As he went on, the sheer amount of bloodshed and technological advance astounded the pony, putting her into almost disbelief at the invention of the computer, and the long, dark time of the USSR. Eventually, he ran out of vague history knowledge to remember from his troubled times in school.
The pony sat there, mouth agape, stunned at human history.
“But, how do you even discover all these things when you're too busy annihilating each other in ever more brutal ways? And some of the things, like those psychopaths Hitler and Stalin, are beyond belief. How is possible for them to kill millions of humans in just a few years? If you told the truth, both have killed more than the total population of Equestria. How do you consider yourself peaceful after things like that? You don't seem like good evidence to the contrary.”
“War is what drives technology. It works as a catalyst, considering many of our advances in medicine came from wars. Anyway, I come from a lawless and deadly place called the Zone, an irradiated area around an old nuclear power station that went through meltdown, spewing its radiation into the area around it. It's full of scientific wonders, horrifically mutated creatures, all sorts of strange phenomena caused by the radiation, and the scum of the human race. No government or army can control what goes in its wastes. It is a place of anarchy and daily death and pain, and all must kill to survive there; no matter how moral you are when you enter, the Zone changes you, it makes you tougher, yet also slowly removes all humanity and sanity from those that reside there. I don't regret killing all the people who have tried to kill me.”
The pony looked disgusted with him, finding the idea of the violence of the Zone abhorrent.
“All I want is to go home. I hate me being here more than you do. I suppose you can do something with your fancy magic about it?"
“No, I can't. Magic can't do everything, only the Princess would be able to send you back, I expect. I'll try to contact her to sort this out, and talk some morality into you, but you're here until she arrives.”
The purple one walked out, accompanied by most of the crowd, all of whom were muttering in hushed whispers, gossiping about the crazy alien in their hall. The only one remaining one was the blue one, with rainbow-coloured hair, trying to look menacing as she guarded him.
“So, pony, are you planning on holding me here indefinitely?”
“Shut up.”
He sighed, this was rapidly turning into worse than captivity by bandits. At least they left you in a cell, not tied down and under constant guard. He sat there dejectedly. What else could he do, except await fate?
After what he guessed was a few hours, a tall white pony, with both wings and horn, its fur shining and gleaming, with semi-transparent, multi-coloured floating hair walked in. The air around it radiated light, burning his eyes with its intensity. It was like the sun incarnate. On its head sat a crown. This must be the Princess. She was flanked by both the purple, stern pony and the cowboy-esque one he had shot, now seemingly healed. Both had packs on their backs. This whole situation gnawed at his mind, trying to tell him something.
The Princess spoke, in a voice that filled the room, cementing his attention on the majestic pony ahead of him.
“These two of my ponies are Twilight Sparkle, to whom you spoke earlier, and Applejack, the one you so unkindly shot yesterday. Rather than suffer for your crimes here, I hope you can learn to open your heart to these two. Having only being alerted to this 'dimension-hop' you made, yesterday, I have only now worked out how to send you back.”
He exhaled a sigh of relief. Somehow, the Zone looked inviting from this perspective. The beginnings of a smile broke upon his face.
“However, since you are the first sentient thing to cross into Equestria in this way, Twilight and I agree we cannot pass up on this opportunity to study a culture totally alien to our own. Both Twilight and Applejack will accompany you back to your world, to study it, and teach you the magic of friendship, I hope.”
Hiker looked at her, grinning, partly in shock at her words.
“You can't be serious. That would be a death sentence.”
“I assure you I am, these ponies mean you no harm, and I expect you to help them adjust to being in your world.”
“But...”
Her gaze was entrancing, both pleading and threatening at the same time, mentally forcing submission upon him. He broke under the pressure.
“Okay, I'll try.”
“Thank you, this expedition means lots to me, Twilight and all of Equestria itself. The technology we could acquire and lessons we could learn from your race will be invaluable. Twilight knows how to perform a spell to return both of them to Equestria, and both are fully equipped, and able to defend themselves, I'm sure. My spell will return you to the place where you left your world, so you will at least arrive somewhere safe. They see no reason not to go now, as you apparently wish, so I wish all three of you the best of luck.”
As her horn lit up, he knew instantly that two ponies, wearing only camping gear, and completely unarmed, would live around half an hour in the Zone. Should he really try to look out for them? Even with his protection, both would probably die. He felt cheated, having to care for these naïve ponies. Just something about the Princess' words, and the ponies' very nature made him feel seeped with guilt at the thought of leaving them to die. As the spell engulfed him, the sensation of falling asleep came over him.
Hiker jerked and stumbled as he appeared on a concrete surface. Looking up, the red trees of the Red Forest surrounded him in the distance on all sides, and by the look of it, it was early evening, as the sun shined weakly just above the horizon. He appeared to be in some old entrance area to the forest, judging by the closed, rusted gates and tourist info board leading into the forest. He wouldn't be going in there anytime soon. Turning round, a tall brick tower stood undamaged behind him, surrounded by the junk of the Zone. He breathed in the bracing, cold air, savouring the moment.
His reverie was broken by a voice.
“So, uh, this is your world then? It looks kinda shabby tah me.”
Looking around, it was Applejack talking, in an almost predictable American drawl. Both her and Twilight were staring at the ruined cars, rusted metal and derelict walls, all slowly being overtaken by the woods. Twilight spoke this time:
“How come all of this is ruined? Does no one look after this place?”
“This is the Zone, all of this was abandoned decades ago, and the weather and plants set to work making it their own, there's nothing anyone can really do.”
“Where are we?” Twilight again. She seemed to have quite the thirst for knowledge.
“No idea. Not where I left from, that's certain. Also please don't wander, you won't feel or see radiation pockets, and I would hate for you to die slowly and painfully from radiation sickness. Even a small dose, untreated will slowly degrade your body over time.“
The ponies stayed silent, coming to terms with what they were getting into. The sudden chirping of his PDA rang through the evening air.
“Hey, Hiker, you made it out of the Space Bubble. You've been gone for days. I honestly thought the emission had caught you. You're one lucky bastard, you are. Apparently you're right outside my tower, so come inside and we'll have a chat over some vodka, you probably need it after a trek through the forest. I would come down to greet you myself, but I'm an old man, and the stairs get harder by the day.”
Hiker wandered over to the door at the base of the tower, slowly opening it. Inside was brightly lit, illuminating a set of iron stair leading up to a single room above, and across from them was a small antechamber with lockers and sleeping rolls. He gestured for the ponies to come inside, letting them get comfortable on the old moth-eaten bedrolls. He ascended the stairs, entering the room.
An old, weather-beaten man sat in one corner, across from a small stove. All around the room hung the heads of all sorts of dangerous and rare mutants, from bloodsuckers to psy-dogs. This man was no slouch.
“Come in, have a seat. I've been dying to hear your tales of how you reached the forest, and got yourself out of that Space Bubble.”
Forester handed him a vodka, pulling out a chair for him.
“It all began the day before I entered the Space Bubble, as I crossed the Barrier. I was heading north, searching for loot on the NPP road..."
They chatted for an hour or so, regaling his rough adventure on the way to the Red Forest. According to Forester, the roads to the forest had been closed since 2011, after a mercenary by the name of 'Scar' had pursued Strelok all the way into the power plant, triggering a massive emission, presumably the one that had made Strelok the infamous 'Marked One'. All the while though, the thought of trying to explain his impromptu visit to Equestria or whatever the ponies' land was daunted him. How would Forester react to his grudging companions? Eventually, he made up his mind. He had to tell him. He held the key of getting out of the Red Forest, and it would be impossible to get him and the ponies out without his help.
“So, Forester, how about I tell you about my time in the Space Bubble?”
“Go on young man, as I said, I would be very interested to hear how you escaped the looped space inside.”
“What if I said that I was transported to a world of talking, magical horse-creatures?”
“Bullshit. The Zone has done some strange things to your mind, my friend.”
“I'm deadly serious. I was even forced to take to back here with me, as their Princess, the one who returned me, wanted to research our world. They're downstairs.”
Forester sat there speechless. Hiker called out loudly:
“Twilight and Applejack, can you come up here a second?”
A muted grumbling emanated from below. Hoofsteps echoed on the rickety stairs. The two ponies, looking alien with their garishly coloured coats walked into the room. Both they and Forester were shocked, scrambling away from each other.
“It's fine, neither of you are planning on hurting each other, I hope. Forester, meet Twilight Sparkle and Applejack. This is Forester, the old caretaker of these woods. He means you no harm.”
They stared at each other for a moment, before Applejack warily made the first move.
“N... nice to meet you Mr. Forester”
“Likewise to you. Anyone's welcome in my old tower here. It's the safest place for miles.”
Forester turned to Hiker,
“Shit, I didn't expect them to be real. What happened when you got stuck in their world?”
“I took it badly to say the least. Anyway, Twilight and Applejack, see if you can get some sleep. This might be the last chance for days.”
The ponies trotted away, murmuring over their first interaction with another human.
“So, Hiker, what do you plan on next?”
“Getting out of here, probably. I don't particularly want to keep them so close the Red Forest, seeing how dangerous it is. Then again, where else is much safer for them?”
“Yeah, that's a good point. Though I'm too old to get you out of here myself. Since you won't be taking the route out you took in, I'll call a dear friend of mine, the only other guy who got here alive since the emission. Garry's his name; he brings me supplies every month. From what I've seen, he's the best guide in the Zone since Guide himself. Still, even he doesn't like the journey here.”
“Why's that?”
“The only way he found was through an abandoned service tunnel Southwest of here, blocked up when Strelok fled from Scar. However, there's a long ventilation shaft, big enough to walk down, that leads out of here.”
“Is that it?”
“Well, most of the other paths lead through the forest, and they're blocked by anomaly fields anyway. The only other ways out are South, along the road going through the Yantar factory.”
“Not nice, I've been round the edge of it before, gave a headache anywhere within sight of it.”
“Yeah, not nice at all. The only other over-land one is across the bridge at the entrance to the service tunnel, going into Limansk.”
“Limansk? Never heard of it.”
“It's an old town for workers at the local radar stations, though now I shudder to think what's there now. Scar, along with a whole faction went through Limansk to get to the NPP. Apparently, they had a full scale war going through there with the Monolithians, barely got through. Even those that did probably ended up in the Monolith themselves, after that emission. I wouldn't set a foot in that graveyard.”
“So, the service tunnel it is then.”
“That's it, leads straight into center of the city.”
“Seriously, you want me to go through Pripyat?”
“That's the only way, son. I'm not forcing you, but even so I can't support four here forever.”
“That's a lot to think on.”
“Have a sleep, we'll decide in the morning.”
Hiker had a difficult decision ahead of him. It was either go through the forests, and try to find the way in he took originally, that would almost certainly get one of the ponies wounded or killed, unprepared and inexperienced as they were. That, or lead them through Pripyat. He had only ever skirted round that ghost city, though it was enough to show that the tales were largely true. It was truly a ghost city, the streets were as dead as a graveyard. Yet looking harder, it revealed horrors. Even from nearly a mile away, looking through his binoculars, he could just about make out the hazy air disturbances of bloodsuckers hunting during broad daylight, bloodstains on another street all over the place, yet no signs of any remains or corpses and strange swirling, ethereal mists coming from one building. In the distance he had heard the indistinct sounds of a Monolith sermon. After seeing that, he had never wanted to return.
Between a trek through Pripyat and a trek through the Red Forest though, he chose Pripyat.
As light streamed in through cracks in the window shutters, he woke to the sound of chopping. Startled, he clambered from his sleeping roll, quickly descending the stairs and pushing the outside door open. Forester was a short distance away, felling a tree. He wandered over, stretching in the cool morning air, watching the red rays of dawn shine through the red boughs of the surrounding forest. Forester turned to him,
“You're awake. Give and old man a hand, will you?”
Hiker took over, hacking away until the trunk buckled. Together they started to pull it away by the trunk, into the open by a toolshed.
“I contacted Garry last night, before I went to sleep, he should be arriving fairly soon. Apparently the recent emission had some strange effects, which doesn't bode well for your departure I'm afraid. He should call when he reaches the end of the tunnel, and we'll start out to meet him then.”
“What sort of effects?”
“He didn't say, that's what worries me. He's a hard man to scare, and must really worry him.”
As they talked, Applejack and Twilight emerged from the tower, bearing their kit. They approached, and Twilight stubbornly demanded to know everything there was to know about the Zone.
“If me and Applejack are going to be safe here, then we need to know about all the creatures and natural hazards you warned us were so bad.” Hiker produced his PDA, pulling up a map of the Zone. Zooming closer onto the red blotch that was the Red Forest, he started,
“This is the part of Zone we are in now. To the north lies the city of Pripyat, and Chernobyl NPP itself. To the south lies Rostok, the Agroprom, the Cordon, Yantar and the Garbage, the safer areas that are more widely inhabited by stalkers. This area here, our location, is the Red Forest, renowned for its red plant life, caused by the dangerously high levels of radiation in the area.”
“Radiation?” Twilight interjected.
“The gamma radiation from the radioactive particles ejected from the reactor at power plant when it went into meltdown. Normal amounts are harmless, but going into a highly radioactive area will do nasty things to your body, causing its cells to mutate or die, slowly killing it off from the inside. The problem with radiation is that it is, as I said, undetectable by all but a special device, which all stalkers carry, that clicks in the presence of radiation, a Geiger counter. I'll find one for each of you as soon as possible.'
While he spoke, Forester brought out Hiker's rucksack, along with all sorts of bits and pieces of stalker hardware, from basic detectors to food and ammunition.
“The radiation also causes the other natural hazards in the Zone, things called anomalies. According to the scientists at the bunker down south, when the rads build up in an area, they can be converted in some form of energy or something. No one really understands how they exist, just that there are a few distinct types, and most are activated by disturbing them. The most obvious are Electro anomalies, areas of high static electricity for some reason, that discharge into the victim. They appear as contorted blue lightning flashes in the active area. Those are some there.”
He pointed to the old power-lines above them, wreathed in the electrostatic lightning.
“The next main ones are fire anomalies. They usually appear as an intense heat-haze above the ground in a small spot, they burst into flames if anything enters them. They are fairly easy to spot, if you have your wits about you.
After fire anomalies, chemical-based ones are the next most common. They only really occur in damp, wet places such as swamps, or underground. They usually take the form of a noxious greenish gas or slimy moss, and burn through armour and flesh nastily. Like fire and electro anomalies, they are pretty apparent to the observant.
The final, and worst kind are gravitational anomalies. They will quite literally rip you limb from limb, or crush you to a small ball with their extreme forces. Unfortunately, they will all suck you in quite readily, stopping you from sprinting past or jumping over them in an emergency. The fact that they are almost invisible is another problem. If you see the air rippling, as if it was water, or leaves and other debris being pulled from all directions in a vortex, then you've found a gravitational anomaly. I've seen a few people walk into them by accident in my time, just by not paying attention, and what came out wasn't pretty.”
Those things look mighty bad, human. Why'd you people go so near them anyway? Seems stupid to me.”
“Because, Applejack, only anomalies produce these.” He pulled out two of his artifacts from his belt pouches, holding them in each hand. He handed the Wrenched to the confused pony first, then the Gravi.
“What the hay? I feel lighter all of a sudden!”
“Many artifacts have strange and wondrous properties, in this case, the brown lumpy one, called a Gravi, reduces gravitational field strength or something according to the scientists, letting you carry more. The problem is, is that most of them emit radiation, so you really need another, rarer type to clear it out to balance the effects.”
Twilight, in her seemingly inexhaustible thirst for knowledge asked:
'What can all of these artifacts do then?”
“All sorts of things, from radiation reduction to resistance from things like fire and chemical burns, to accelerated healing and clotting. I don't have time to explain them all now, you need to know about the other danger of the Zone, its inhabitants.
All sorts of creatures can be found here, mutated by the radiation. The most common kinds are dogs, boars, and fleshes, god-knows what they were originally. They move around and hunt in packs, but thankfully don't actively hunt down humans to eat, though they will attack if they see you. As long as you keep a reasonable difference, you should be fine. There are worse things out there, but they're rare enough to leave for now.”
“What about other humans? You said they don't get along with each other.”
“Most don't. The two big groups, Duty and Freedom, shoot each other on sight. The mercenaries vary, some are hostile, others can be friendly, but all of them are ruthless. The bandits try to rob everyone and everything they see, and everyone else hates them for it, and the Monolithians, well, they kill everything that moves. Don't worry about them for the moment, the direction we're going, no stalker in their right mind dares to tread.”
“Sounds like a right friendly place.” said Applejack.
Forester approached.
“I hate to bring you little tutorial to an end, but we need to move soon. Hiker, here's some extra food and shotgun shells, you'll need them in Pripyat. For you ponies, I got you some old jackets to protect you from the elements, and basic anomaly and radiation detectors. Hopefully it'll all fit.”
“Thank you, it sounds like we need them from what Hiker was saying.”
“No problem my dear, Twilight was it? I don't need any of this old junk anymore anyway. We best be off.”
Hiker stood up, following the Forester to the rusted old gate, leading into the woods, as the ponies struggled to don their coats and bags. Forester unlocked the gate, propping it open and started inside. As he passed the threshold into the forest, his very gait changed into that of a hunter, as he produced a small sawn-off from his jacket. It was clear he knew how to survive in this dark, dank, deadly place.
They quietly walked through the woods, in single file, with Forester leading the way around radiation spots by instinct, past occasional anomalies, Both he and Hiker had their shotguns at the ready, ears pricked to the distant growls and barks to the east. Thankfully, the journey was uneventful, if not awkward, as they had to take regular detours through bushes and over rocks to avoid the radiation. According to Forester, the mutants were less active this early in the morning. Soon enough, they spotted a yellow brick wall up ahead, with a large gap smashed through it, showing grass outside.
They hurried toward it, clambering over the piles of old bricks, Stepping out of the forest, they were next to a large tunnel entrance, surrounded by old military vehicles and the remains of long gone stalker camps. Slowly spreading out, they walked further, Ahead of them was a huge steel girder bridge, leading across a small river gorge to a second tunnel on the other side. The tops of buildings were visible in the distance, just behind the hill with the tunnel. An old watchtower guarded the bridge. Splitting off from the rest, Forester went round, and up into the tower, as he was about to enter-
A man walked out of the top of the tower, with pale skin and slicked back brown hair. He was dressed in a green Sunrise suit, and carried a long rifle slung behind his back. This must be Garry, the man who found the way from Yanov station to Pripyat, among other things.
“Hello there Forester, what brings you here to need me now? The emission?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. Let us go inside, and let my... companions rest here for a second.”
Hiker watched them go into the top of the tower, letting Twilight and Applejack sit and talk together. Listening, he could here short phrases here and there,
“What sort of creatures? I hope no dangerous!”
“-well, the stalker that found them was trapped in a space bubble-”
“Teleported! What?”
“-that but he has the evidence to prove it.”
“Pripyat, are you serious?”
“-the emission, the place has been deserted, Yar and his boys vanished, the Monolith sitting tight, minding their own business, hell I even found another-”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he seems trustworthy, if a bit detached.”
Hiker walked away. Something was obviously wrong in the Zone to trouble an expert like this so much. Looking round, he saw Forester and Garry coming out, looking serious.
Forester came forwards first.
“I'd better be off, and distract all those nasty things in the forest following you. Any of you, feel free to visit me. You're all welcome.”
As he wandered away, Garry spoke up next,
“Right, so, you are Twilight Sparkle and Applejack, is that right?”
“That's us.”
“Good. We'll be heading through that tunnel in a second. Follow me, and wait next to the entrance for the moment. Hiker, with me.”
He and Hiker slowly paced towards the small steel opening in the ruined road tunnel. Garry spoke under his breath,
“Get your shotgun out. I heard something in there when I came through a few hours ago, and it following me all the way here.”
Garry stepped inside first, quietly removing the scope from his VSS Vintorez, shouldering it. Hiker followed, pump-action at the ready. Inside, it was darker than night; Hiker thanked his night vision goggles, how Garry saw without them was a mystery. They treaded silently around the abandoned BTRs and trucks, looking for movement. As they rounded a toppled military jeep overlooking a small slope downwards, something scuffled the floor, echoing on the hard concrete. Both men tensed. Hiker looked round, straining to hear through his thick full-head mask, trying to see- WHAM!
He was knocked back by something slamming past him. Garry cried out, propelled backwards by a dark shape. Hiker snapped back up, spinning round to see Garry on the floor, pinned by a humanoid shape. He sprinted forwards, diving at it. The three of them went tumbling over, and Hiker landed on top of the beast, rolling onto its front. A Snork. It clawed at him, grabbing his face in its clawed hands, pulling him towards its face. Its blood-encrusted nails dug fruitlessly at the hard Perspex visor, scratching it. They wrestled and fought, one trying to escape, one trying to kill. The snork, as inhumanly strong as it was, couldn't shift the heavy man sprawled atop it, to get to less-armoured areas. Suddenly, Hiker was jerked backwards, as Garry slammed his rifle's barrel into the snork's baying mouth, unloading it into it' face. With every muffled thud of the suppressed rifle, parts of its head were turned to a red mist of gore and bone. Then, everything was quiet.
The silence was shattered.
“WHAT WAS THAT THING? WHY WOULD ANY PERSON DEGENERATE INTO SUCH ANIMAL?”
Twilight was getting hysterical, screaming and crying at the sight of the seemingly human snork try to eat both the stalkers, only to be brutally killed. Applejack was silent, horrified Garry was the first to respond,
“Twilight, that was a snork. That... abomination is worse than an animal, that was mercy compared to what things like that deserve-”
“JUST BECAUSE IT CAN'T CONTROL ITSELF, IT DOESN'T MEAN THAT IT DESERVED THAT BRUTALITY! THIS WHOLE WORLD ARE A BUNCH OF MINDLESS PREDTORS AND MORONIC BLOODTHIRSTY HUMANS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHICH ONE LIKES KILLING MORE! AGH!”
She vanished in a puff of purple smoke.
The three looked at each other.
“What just happened?” asked Hiker.
Applejack spoke, still shocked.
“She overreacted; she has a habit o' doing that. I don't think this expedition was a good idea for her anyways, let alone any of us. She'll be over it in a couple of days- Oh horseapples! She's gone an' left me behind here! Stupid filly! Now I'm stuck here 'till she gets the courage to come get me. I'm not even meant to do the research; jus' help her live rough and protect her. What am I gonna do?”
''Follow me. As I said.” Garry again. “We have to move now. I don't want any more mutants getting in here, or we won't get out alive. All we can do is continue up the tunnel.”
He motioned to them to follow him, and he led them through the long, dark road tunnels to a small doorway, illuminated by a dim sodium lamp. Fiddling with some keys, he eventually forced it open. Ahead lay a thin, long passage, barely wide enough for one man. There were no lights.
“Hiker, take point. I'll stay at the back and lock up. Just go straight ahead, there's no side passages. You'll come to the exit in about five kilometers.”
They started the arduous journey through the long dark of the only road to freedom.
Hiker stumbled, weary from the cramped march, face-first into the door. Recovering himself, he slammed the door open, revealing a small spiral staircase going up. The cold glow of the yellow lights stung his eyes, a welcome sight from the fuzzy night-vision he'd been using for the last hour and a half. Squeezing his body along a tight concrete corridor wasn't good for his body. He was about to ascend when Garry let out the first words since they'd set off.
'Wait here a second, you need to know some things before you go out there. First, Pripyat is the most dangerous area in the Zone, bar the NPP itself, as far as I can guess. There are things here that you just run from at the slightest suspicion of their existence. If I say to flee, just run, don't look back, get the fuck out of there.
Second, the emission a few days ago caused something major. All of the few groups of hardened veterans I knew that stayed here vanished overnight, without a trace. Many of those guys made me look like a rookie, and were kitted out like a tank with legs. That's bad. Of the Monolithians, large numbers vanished as well, and the rest are hiding, scared shitless by something. That's even worse. If the Monolith guys are scared, well, I don't even know what could happen. They don't even feel fear.
Thankfully, I picked up a hard-nut exoskeleton expert left out on his lonesome as a companion. Even stranger, this guy's ex-Monolith.”
“What?” said Hiker incredulously. “How do you become an ex-Monolithian? All they are are bloodthirsty brainwashed vegetables.”
“Ever meet Strider? He and his squad woke up with amnesia and Monolith gear, and an uncanny knack for survival. He was at Yanov a while back; he left with that Major Degtaryev to go to Pripyat. He had no idea what he'd done when he was brainwashed. Just woke up a crackshot sniper with only a Monolith SEVA and an SVU to his name. My guy's like that. Apparently he was with this scientist faction that went to the center a few years back, wore blue camo or something. Anyway, he's nearly 7 foot tall, in an exoskeleton with a special-forces rifle and a light machine gun. I'm not complaining.”
Both Applejack and Hiker (under his visor) looked daunted.
“Enough chit-chat I'm afraid, it doesn't bode well to linger underground.”
They ascended, into the corner of an old underground car-park. A giant of a man, sitting next to a small brazier in barrel looked up at them. His chest was covered in thick Kevlar plates, arms and legs rigged with steel struts and hydraulics and on his head he wore the distinctive, skeletal mask of the exoskeleton. Outside, through the opening, the grey, cloudy skies were pierced by the decaying, decrepit apartment blocks and towers of Pripyat. Muffled words came from the giant by the fire.
Hiker looked around at the dark underground space they were in, and the cloudy sky of Pripyat outside, contemplating the bleakness of his situation. Applejack looked forlorn. For such a family-orientated pony, to be stranded in an inhospitable place like the Zone was loneliness of the highest kind. She missed the comforts of her farm and family, applebloom's laughter, her brother's stoicism.
As Garry clambered out from the manhole after them, the giant doused the small fire, collecting his gear. Seeing the stalker and the pony staying put, his voice rumbled again,
“We can't stay here. It's not safe in places like this after dark.”
Applejack looked up at the imposing man, towering over her. Not once had he shown any surprise at her appearance. How did he so calmly accept her, a pony, when all the others had been as shocked as she was at their alien appearances, and their strange mannerisms? There was obviously something off with him, something intangible.
She sighed. This world was far more harsh and cold than she had imagined from volunteering back in Ponyville, that even the man that had been transported there, this 'Hiker', seemed less of a monster and more of a creature of depth and feeling. Of Garry, she didn't know what to make. On one hand, he was forceful and definite, almost domineering. Yet to one as skilled at reading personalities as her, there was a easy-going, optimistic side to him crushed by the tremendous strain of trying to stay alive here that she could only imagine. As the other three in her party prepared to leave, she mused on just how much her life had been changed in the last two days.
They set off, up the ramp leading out of this dark concrete hole, up to the open air. She longed for it after her long underground march. As they approached the top, the giant rushed forward, pausing at the intersection with the road, on edge with his rifle ready. She and the others paused, watching him. He had clearly seen something. Slowly, he waved them up.
“Don't worry, the Zombified are nothing to worry about at this distance. We are safe.”
As they came out, and followed his gaze, the sight of a gaggle of the brain-dead stalkers that were hit by the brain scorcher graced their eyes, far off many blocks down, milling around aimlessly. Hopefully they wouldn't shamble this way, Applejack had headache just thinking about it.
The movement of the stalkers around her jolted her from her thoughts, as they quickly jogged off, guided by Garry. Galloping after them was hard work on the uneven cracked road surface. All around her now the apartment blocks loomed over her, intimidating her with their size. The only buildings their size back home were the parts of Canterlot castle.
He led them this way and that, around buildings looted and sacked, past roads whirling and rippling with the strange gravitational anomalies Hiker had lectured her on this morning. Past withered, gnarled trees and bushes, and into the grounds of a building that resembled some kind of school, with rotting outdoor play-areas dotted around the grounds, and faded murals of small humans playing painted on the walls. Garry led them through the front door, along the corridors away from the roadside end of the building. After numerous passages, turns and a set of stairs, she found herself in a large classroom, with a fire-pit in the middle, and bedrolls and supplies dotted around it.
The three humans crashed down onto the soft mattresses, pulling off their webbing and ammunition, relaxing and murmuring amongst themselves. She certainly felt more relaxed than she had done so far in this world. No monsters or evil creatures nearby. Even if there were, nothing would find them in this rat-warren. Still, the headache from earlier was back, no longer imagined this time. It felt like a grinding and burning inside her skull. She massaged her tender forehead with a forehoof. The giant turned to her again, peering at her with his skull-faced mask.
“Are you okay, little thing?”
“Jus' a headache, nothing more.”
“A headache?”
“It only just started up again, I felt it last time when we saw those zombie things.”
“A headache only when we passed the zombies, that is not good.”
He looked at Garry. Garry looked back, puzzled. Suddenly, the puzzled look turned to a concerned look. Something about her headache must be bad, it showed. The giant stood up abruptly.
“I'm just going to go and have a little look outside. I might be a short while, don't worry.”
He marched off, out into the corridor. Garry still looked concerned. Hiker was just opening up a loaf of bread from his sack, passing around.
“What's gotten into him? All I said was that I had a headache. I'm a tough mare, I can handle it.”
“I don't know. But it worries me. He knows things like avoiding anomalies instinctively, he can just wander around the Zone on autopilot safely. This must be one of those weird things he remembers from his time as a Monolithian.”
“Anyway, is there any way I can help out with you guys? I feel like a dead weight not being able to carry any of your weapons or anything.”
“That's true. Without a gun, you can't go alone in the Zone, it would mean almost certain death. Maybe we can get a technician to rig something up for you, but I don't really want to reveal you to other stalkers. There's no telling how they would react. Personally, at the moment it doesn't too much, as Pripyat seems pretty deserted at the moment. You never know when shit will hit the fan in the Zone. Things get nasty faster than you can scream for help around here.”
“That's a mighty lot to think about, Mister Garry.”
They sat there in silence, eating the bread Hiker had brought, listening to the sounds of the quiet evening of the ghost city. The calls of crows, the rustle of trees outside, the occasional howls and groans of far-away packs of dogs. One sound was new though, every so often groups of soft thumps, usually about a dozen each time, came from outside. What started as a few solitary sounds turned into an almost constant, fast-paced thudding, louder and sharper than before. Hiker turned restlessly.
“I'm going to go to the front of the building, see what the din is outside. I can't sleep, my head is just spinning and aching, its driving me insane.”
He wandered off.
“Him too, that makes three of us with headaches. There's gotta be something causing this.,” said Garry, looking at Applejack. As she opened her mouth to say something, a voice pierced through the evening.
“Shit! Garry, get here quick, its that damn giant of yours. He's a bloody tank in combat.”
Garry snatched up his VSS, sprinting out the doorway, along the corridors, to the front face of the school. Hiker was standing there, clutching his shotgun helplessly. A fell sight confronted his eyes.
On the long, open courtyard in front of the school stood a horde of the brain-dead zombified, illuminated by each other's head-torches. Many of them were firing at some dark, large shape, closer to the school. Suddenly, the shape moved, and the silhouette of an exoskeleton was light by the flashing of a long machine-gun in his hands, spewing bullets into the zombies, cutting through them like a knife through tissue paper.
Garry dropped to a crouch, bringing up his sniper-rifle, and started firing off bursts at the horde, covering his mad ally. As the ranks began to thin however, the figure in the exoskeleton recoiled, bringing his hand to his head. With the other, he slowly brought the MG back to bear, now firing wildly at a single target, ignoring the encroaching zombies. As he fired, he was stunned a second time, almost thrown onto his knees. Resting the foregrip on one knee, clutching his helmet with the other, he continued firing, spraying at an unknown target. The stray bullets from the zombes' wildly inaccurate shots were starting to hit him now.
Now Garry could see his target, it by the gunfire. A horrible, misshaped, bloated body. A twisted, bulbous head. It was a Controller. He too ignored the zombies now, firing on full auto from the window at it emptying the magazine in an instant. The bullets hit it, stunning it for a second, stopping its wild, evil gestures. The exosuited giant leapt up, dropping his machine-gun, running at it, pulling a compact rifle from his side, and slamming into it head on. It was knocked back, and surprisingly quiet burst from the rifle annihilated its skull at point blank range.
Turning around, the brown-coloured exoskeleton bearer started to jog as fast as he could away from the remaining zombies, firing bursts of bullets at them, ducking behind an old van. Bullets pinged and ricocheted off its sides, trapping the lone stalker. Garry pulled away from his scope, his ammo almost gone. The action was cooling off now. In the dark, the zombies had lost sight of the stalker hiding in the wrecked van. If he made a run for it, however, he would be shredded, that was certain.
“What're we gonna do Garry?” said Applejack, by his side. She looked just as concerned as he felt; she was no use here, and she knew it.
“I don't know. There's not much we can do.”
They stood there, man and pony, watching the lone figure, trapped wounded and helpless by his heroics. Not many could claim to have killed a controller, as their fierce telepathic attacks fried the brains of its victims, turning them into the zombies that often are found near them. They were notoriously resilient as well. Garry pulled his binoculars out, trying the make out the half visible stalker huddling inside the wreck of the van. He had a lightly-coloured camo on his arms and legs, and brown Kevlar plates on his chest. Monolith colours. It must be the giant. He had said he was going out to look for something. Looking around at the variety of zombies, he spotted all sorts of factions and stalkers. Rookie loners, betrayed by their inexperience, older zombies, relics of the long-dead brain scorcher, hulking master stalkers, with their exoskeletons and SPAS12s, obviously converted while trying to kill the controller. And there, a zombie wearing a SEVA suit, moving strangely for a-
“Wait, hellfire, that's Hiker.” exclaimed Garry.
“Where?”
“Look, amongst the zombies.”
He was walking slowly, holding his shotgun loosely in one hand, avoiding the spread out zombies as he wandered nonchalantly among them. At a snails pace, often stopping and pausing, he reached the giant in the van. He helped him to his feet Carefully guiding him, Hiker led the stalker through the horde, in the same way. Eventually, they were lost from sight, on the other side of the mass of zombies.
“How the... how did he just walk into them, and walk straight back out again?”
Some time later, Hiker and the giant emerged into the ruined school.
“Where the hell did you learn that trick Hiker? How is that even possible?”
Hiker grinned.
“It's an old trick good old Uncle Yar taught me back at Yanov, before he left for this hellhole. It's all in the body language and posture, my friend. That little trick's got me out a few sticky situations, it has.”
They looked round at the man with him. The giant Monolithian was in bad shape, red stains from bullet holes dotted his exoskeleton, and the small bandages pressed onto them were doing almost nothing to cover them up. He crashed down to his bedroll, carefully removing the servomotors from his suit, discarding them, his breathing labored. He gladly took a military-grade first aid kit from Hiker, first taking out some rubber gloves. Removing the exoskeleton’s gauntlets, and taking a large swig of vodka, he applied the gloves. With each small red hole, he dipped two fingers in, groaning in pain, to remove the small lead pellets. After that, he took a brightly shining green and white artifact from his pack, and held it against each wound. Applejack watched in morbid curiosity. The rest were asleep by now. Soon, he retrieved another artifact, a lime green twist-shaped blob. He sat back to sleep, holding each close to his chest, gently puffing in and out of his mask. All was quiet and still.
Warning: this chapter gets fairly nasty later on; just skip to the synopsis of the chapter at the end if you’re adverse to gory parts.
===========================
She was standing in a huge courtyard, with an imposing concrete structure the size of a mountain in front of her, with a large towering spire on the top. All around were smaller structures and buildings, linked by long, winding overhead pipes. She was surrounded by decaying corpses, left to rot in the abandoned wasteland. She turned her head, and saw her friends, the other bearers of the Elements of Harmony beckoning her towards them. As she approached, they slowly morphed, becoming brown and misshapen, with sharp fangs and rabid eyes. The mutant things snarled and leapt at her, only to vanish in puffs of smoke as a hooded figured walked into view, firing a gun. Turning to her, its face was a gasmask seeping blood through the filters and eyepieces. Everything became fuzzy and blurred, and the world faded into darkness.
_________________________________________
Morning’s rays shone through the barred windows of the classroom, waking Applejack from her slumber. She shook herself awake, opening her sticky eyes and pulling back her frazzled mane. Her sleep had been plagued by the Zone’s mysterious nightmares. Looking around for her companions, she only saw Garry, wiping down his rifle, carefully assembling the various parts of the mechanism back together. He saw her staring, and stopped his work.
“The others left a few hours ago, to go find more supplies from some Monolith stash that Giant knows the location of. After last night, we’re all low on ammo; I’ve only got this magazine left. I’m gonna take you somewhere safe, away from central Pripyat. It’s where a nice old guy known as ‘Uncle Yar’ went missing. We're off to look for him there, see if we can find him and his guys. Get your stuff together; we'll leave in a second.”
He quickly finished up, snapping together and screwing up all the parts as Applejack collected up her few possessions: her little anomaly detector, her food, and most importantly her beloved Stetson. Garry led her out the door, through the building, out into the city. It looked eerie in the perpetually cloudy landscape, with little sunlight shining onto decaying, mottled buildings. They walked in silence through the streets, skirting bushes and ruined cars, checking every corner, every passage for signs of movement. Anything that would roam Pripyat freely would be dangerous, fatally so.
After a few minutes, they appeared onto a long street, stretching as far as the eye could see in each direction into the mist of the city. Garry right turned here, looking down his scope to the southern end. He held a hand up to Applejack to stop. He took the scope from his rifle and offered it to her. Grasping it in a hoof, she looked through it: a large, lean beast, almost an oversized lion, with mottled brown hairless skin and a deformed, sneering muzzle. He leaned down to her, reattaching the scope.
“That is a Chimera. If it sees or smells us, we will die. I'm not even exaggerating; my VSS will barely scratch it. We'll have to detour through the old hospital, that building to the left, and hope to god we can get past it. Follow me, only move when I move, stay right behind me, and don't make a fucking sound.”
Garry slowly slung his rifle over his shoulder, and started to lead her over to the hospital, round the nearest of the multi-storey buildings. It was obvious that he was scared, his hands were shaking. It wasn't like Garry to swear or get flustered.
They carefully made their way round the building, towards a derelict connecting corridor that linked the two hospital blocks. With every step they took, their hearts pounded faster and faster. The low grunts and snuffles were audible from almost a hundred yards away. They crouched up against the low wall of the corridor as Garry had another look through his binoculars. The chimera was pawing at the ground at the end of the next courtyard, clawing at the concrete. Motioning for her to move, Garry helped Applejack over the wall, following her into the semi-open walkway. At either end a musty darkness hung.
Weighing up each side, he went right, practically crawling on all fours to stay out of sight. Applejack crept behind him, glancing over at the beast in the distance with every step. As they made their way into the building, Garry seemed to relax, hurrying up the flights of stairs, leading her this way and that, past derelict wards, ruined storerooms, all dark and wholly uninviting, all the way onto the roof.
They moved quickly along the roof, to the far end, past another stairwell. From there, everything was clear. Ahead of them was a small area of grassy wasteland, next to the hospital courtyard. In the center, by a brick roundhouse was the Chimera. On the other side was a steel-framed rusty old building, with various openings in its sides. That was their goal. Garry sighed.
“Now we wait. There's no way across without it seeing us. We'll have to shack up here for the time being, and hope it moves on.”
The two of them sat there on the roof of the hospital, an odd couple; a hard-working Apple family farm mare, and a tired, frayed young man, a legend in the Zone for his adventures, sitting in thought a stone's throw from certain death. As they lay on the roof together, the sun slowly inched across the azure sky, and soft winds blew wisps of cloud towards the horizon. All was quiet, save for the sniffing and panting of the huge beast below. Garry's PDA bleeped. The proximity PDA scanner showed two nearby stalkers approaching. Garry clambered up to the edge, looking down at the building across the way.
Two mercenaries were slowly walking out, weapons by their sides, one a standard grunt, in the typical grey jumpsuit and flak vest. The other had an exoskeleton, and a back harness full of guns of all sizes. They were oblivious to Garry, and the Chimera. Deep in conversation, they wandered towards the courtyard of the hospital, as the rasping breathing of the chimera turned to a growl. They spun round, swinging up their weapons as the chimera leapt. The nearest one fired a burst as it slammed into him, propelling them both into the ground. The chimera bit down immediately on the mercenary’s head, enveloping it within its giant maw, gnawing and grinding on it. The second man, better equipped than his comrade, dropped his rifle in an instant, and pulled a compact black gun with a round drum underneath it. Cocking it forcefully, he turned to the monster.
A deafening sound, a crashing metallic roar like thunder, erupted from it as it poured shotgun shell after shotgun shell into the chimera’s head and back, ripping the skin and mangling the flesh. The chimera backed away, hurt. The merc stepped forward, pressing the advantage. Then it turned on him, slashing at his front, knocking away the potent shotgun and tearing at his arms. It pulled its lithe body from the first merc, barrelling into the expert. It latched its jaws onto his arm, pulling him down. It stood at least two metres high, from foot to shoulder, and maybe even three and a half long. The merc, as large as he was, was dwarfed by the thing. Trying in vain to escape, the stalker writhed, only to have the chimera rip on his mutilated hand, tearing it off entirely. Screaming inhumanely, the mercenary shook and flailed as the chimera eviscerated him. Garry shut his eyes and clapped his hands to his ears, trying to block out the weakening screaming and ever more forceful sounds of ripping and tearing. Applejack just sat back away from the edge of the roof, watching Garry, listening to the gory sounds below agape.
Eventually, the murder stopped, and the snarls and growls faded into the distance. Garry still lay there, breathing heavily, in shock. Applejack walked over to him, laying a hoof on her shoulder, glancing down at whatever he was watching. She recoiled in shock. Down below, two corpses lay. One was blood-stained all over, headless and limbless, mostly eaten by the huge beast, with some vestige of his grey fatigues. The other was barely recognisable as a body, more of a shredded mass of Kevlar, metal servomotors and bones, all drenched with blood and gore. The pile wasn’t even in a human shape; a severed foot lay next to the iconic skull-shaped mask of the exoskeleton.
Garry got up as she stood there, and gently guided her away from the horrible sight, down and out of the building, past the bodies, and past the steel-framed building, southwards to the Laundromat, the safe haven for all stalkers in Pripyat.
___________________________________
They stood outside the heavy iron doors of the Laundromat. Applejack hadn’t said a word since she had seen the chimera. Garry wasn’t in the highest spirits either. He turned to her,
“I’m sorry you had to see that earlier. I’ve only heard rumours of those beasts growing to that size. No one deserves to go out like those two did. Anyway, we’re here. Look around, see if you can find any evidence of what happened to the guys here.”
“W… what did happen?”
“They vanished without a trace.”
Garry pushed open the doors. Inside, it was trashed, the old clutter of the military garrison there months ago was scattered around, and the rusty washing machines were piled up around the door, obviously some kind of barricade. They each went in different directions, Garry upstairs, Applejack into the large communal area ahead. She wandered past the few bunks and bedrolls lying around, into the workshop. All around here were tins of food, boxes of ammo, weapon parts, all sorts of junk. Whoever was here must have left in a hurry. She sifted through the supplies, looking for anything from the previous occupants.
“Hey, Applejack. Get up here quickly, you need to hear this.”
She bolted upstairs, seeing Garry standing on the landing, by a window, looking forlorn. In front of him was a skeleton, wearing a tattered green flecktan Freedom suit.
“Garry, is that this Uncle Yar you told me about?”
“I hope not, we’re about to find out.”
He held up a small white device, a PDA. On it, an audio recording was showing. Garry hit play.
“This is Leshiy. I’m here with Yar and Murk, in the Laundromat. Hell, this emission’s been going for days, it’s only just stopped. We aren’t’ going out any time soon. There’s been this thumping on the door for hours now, started off as just a knock, getting louder and louder. We’ve barricaded the door. Whatever’s out there isn’t getting in here, that’s for sure. We were looking through a window, but there was nothing there, just thin air .I don’t how long we’ve got till it breaks through. I’m –“ *Crashing sounds* (muffled voices) “Shit, what the fuck is that thing? Run Murk, get up here quick!” “Fire, fuck’s sake, kill it!” *gunfire* “Upstairs! Yar, get a window open!” *More gunfire* “Aahh! My head, what the hell is that thing doing?” *Screaming* (distant) “It got Leshiy, get out, get out, quick Yar, jump!” *Rumbling and growling sounds*
“It looks like Uncle Yar and this Murk escaped, still, I have no idea what could make three of Freedom’s best run for their lives.”
“That chimera? That looked fierce enough, don’t y’ think?”
“Not that, they would’ve recognised it. This must be something new…”
Hiker and Giant were headed back after their raid on the Monolithians' supplies. It had gone well, for sure. Hiker was sporting a shiny new Groza, modified to fire 5.45 rounds, a rare find in the Zone, and a superb weapon despite it's ugly looks. Better than his old AK74, by a long way. The Giant on the other hand held at least one of almost every desirable gun found in the zone. An SVD, a pair of SVUs, G36Ks, VSS's, SIG 550s, even a replacement for the old MG that he lost in the battle with the controller. Two stood out though. A Bulldog 6 grenade launcher, capable of levelling small buildings, and a heavily modified FN F2000, the crown jewel of assault weapons ever seen in the Zone. He had tens of thousands of roubles of loot attached to his back. He had to borrow Hiker's Gravi just to be able to walk with it all. The pair of them could hold of a small army with them.
Still, even with the kit they carried, they were in real danger. Hauling the weapons was a slow and laborious business, attracting attention of mutants from all around. They'd had dogs, zombies and the occasional snork find them. They weren't too much of a problem in Pripyat's wide open streets. But if something worse ran into them, it would find there is such a thing as a free lunch. Two free lunches to be exact. They were hopeful though. Garry had contacted them, telling them to rendezvous at the apartment block by the Laundromat, with some cryptic message about some 'hidden threat'. They were close by now, the apartment block visible in the distance-
A blinding purple flash enveloped them, accompanied by a sharp cracking sound, and a gust of wind, blowing them back. Hiker pulled out his Groza, swinging it wildly looking for the source. As the afterimage in their retinas faded, all that was left was a huge column of purple gas, dense and still. Two figures, a man and a pony, ran out of the building, headed for the smoke.
“What the hell was that?” asked Hiker, panting and tense from the shock.
“Not natural. Nor caused by the zone.” came the giant's reply.
“How do you know that? I'm sure that's something you've not seen before.”
The bright purple clouds were barely starting to disperse, if at all. There was no sign of anything emerging.
“I don't think the Zone really does bright purple as a colour. Just my intuition.”
The smoke started to roil and shift, and in another gust, it vanished, revealing its contents.
Standing there, in the middle of the street where the gas had enveloped, was a large group of ponies. Most were white or grey, wearing what appeared to be golden medieval plate armour. In the center however, stood six others, all different. One, the largest, was white in colour, with a long translucent floating mane and tail, recognised by Hiker as their demigod Princess, accompanied by that purple student of hers, Twilight Sparkle. What a stuck-up, traitorous shit she was for leaving Applejack abandoned quickly crossed the minds of both Garry and Hiker. The others were less familiar. One was the blue pegasus with rainbow hair, his guard. One was sheer white, bearing a stylised purple mane and a look that showed her disgust for the decrepitude of the city. Another was a soft yellow, with a light pink mane. She look more frightened than a rookie being told about bloodsuckers. The oddest perhaps was bright pink all over, literally jumping around in ecstatic joy.
There was silence on the part of the humans. They stood there, in pure shock at the sight before them. No one moved, both sides just stared at each other, both sides experiencing the same mixture of fear, shock, anxiety, rage and curiosity that had come from the invasion of their homeland.
Suddenly Applejack galloped towards the other ponies, enveloped in a group hug by the multichromatic group of five, sharing their friendship once more. The white and pink ones were crying, the rainbow one was sharing a joke with Applejack, before Twilight turned to the farm-pony. The emotional reunion carried on for several minutes. Over the chatter, the words:
“Thank the Princess you've survived the clutches of those barbarian savages. Once I realised just how cruel they were I had to...”
floated into earshot of Hiker, Garry and Giant, now reunited. Above the hubbub of her ponies, the Princess stood there, looking balefully at the three humans, with a mixture of disapproval and sadness conflicting on her face. All the while, the military ponies stood to attention, guarding the others with fierce determination.
The three stalkers turned to each other.
“What the fuck was that? Seriously, Hiker, explain this. Forester left them out when he told me about the ponies.”
“Well, the big one, their Princess, is a godlike figure to them. Apparently, she is quite literally the sun incarnate. When I was stuck over there, was the one that told me I'd have to take Twilight and Applejack over here. I guess she wasn't just abandoning them to die here after all.”
“Where do the rest come into it then?” said Giant, who was taking the appearance of talking horses surprisingly well.
“Really, I have no idea. The soldiers look pretty ineffectual anyway.”
“What do we do? If they don't stop their little get together soon, all hell's gonna break loose all over us. Every single living thing within a mile is going to beeline for us here.”
“Either get the hell out, or try to talk to them. Personally, I prefer the former. I've had enough with their strange Princess and pointless pacifism, but-”
Both Garry and Hiker looked at Giant. He stood like a rock facing north, pointing to the sky.
“The Zone does not like intrusions. They must have angered it. We have to go. So do they, if they wish to live.”
Red clouds were becoming visible now, above the outline of the NPP, faintly glowing.
“Damn, where the hell do we go? The Laundromat?” asked Hiker.
“We'll have to if we want to save the ponies, though it obviously wasn't safe for the Freedomers. It's the only place nearby that'll fit everyone.”
“But do we help them? Maybe their magic can protect them?”
Hiker and Garry hurriedly debated the point, until the normally silent giant intervened. They turned to him. Overhead, the red clouds were beginning to move towards them, darkening the sky.
“Go, seek refuge in the Laundromat, or wherever you wish. I shall sort out this mess with those 'ponies'.”
Garry looked like he was about to make a point, then, stopped and motioned for him and Hiker to leave. They jogged off, disappearing through one of the large apartments in the direction of the Laundromat without a backward look.
Giant turned toward the gathering of alien creatures before him. All he knew was that they were known as ponies, and the large white one was their Princess. He dropped his copious loot inside a ruined car, and walked toward them slowly, hands in the air. As he approached, the guarding soldier-ponies stiffened. Giant chuckled to himself. None of them were even armed. What good did they think they could do against a 120 kilo man reinforced by steel and Kevlar. They barely reached his waist. As he came within a few feet, they parted, allowing him through. The Princess stood before him, looking perplexed.
“What are you, strange machine? What do you want? We mean you no harm.”
Giant laughed.
“I am no machine. I come to tell you that those red storm clouds carry extreme levels of radioactive dust. When they reach us, anyone outside or in an exposed location will be simultaneously fried and degraded at a cellular level. Any human or animal from this place will be killed in less than the time it has taken me to tell you this.” “WHAT!” screamed both the pink and white ponies in unison, trying to hide behind the rest, all of whom looked terrified beyond belief.
“Really?” asked the Princess.
“Yes. Do some of the fancy magic the others told me you had, or follow me if you wish to live.”
The large white pony looked torn between distrust and concern, uncertain whether to trust the massive brown and grey thing covered in metal before her.
“Lead on.”
They followed him along the streets of Pripyat, in one long column, all the ponies hanging back from the massive mechanical stalker. As they walked, the light became redder and redder, occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning. Giant's Geiger counter was already showing above normal levels. As he rounded another building, the Laundromat came into view. Ahead, a stalker, in a large camouflaged suit ran to the door and sprinted in, oblivious to the unorthodox group behind him. Giant turned. The ponies were hurrying now, trotting faster and faster.
“There's the place, where the other figure just entered. There you will be safe.”
As they passed him, most muttered thanks under their breath, avoiding his gaze. He gave the area a last look over. The city looked even more sinister under the blood red light emanating from the sky. He was still a way from the building when the first ponies entered the building, a group of soldiers. As they opened the double doors, he heard shouting. He turned.
Suddenly gunfire erupted from inside, cutting down those by the door. In an instant, other soldiers threw up a magical shield, stopping the continuing hail of bullets. Magical blasts retaliated, and the armoured ponies galloped inside the building, leaving the other seven huddled by the doorway. He looked up, and the sky was darkening now. He had maybe less than 20 seconds left. He screamed at the remaining ponies,
“GET INSIDE!”
He turned to the building he was next to, running to a window, and vaulting inside. The very air was rumbling now. Pulling out his compact rifle from his side, he ran further into the building, turning into a long hallway. Heading down it as his radiation detector started to spike, he pulled himself down below the stairwell. He would certainly be fine here. Of the others, he had no idea. Did the men inside slaughter the ponies? Or visa-versa? He had no way of knowing for the next hour until the emission cleared. Would there be anything to back to?
Hiker struggled against his magical bonds. Just as a well-equipped stalker calling himself Murk had entered, and had been trying to explain to Garry what happened to him over the last few weeks, the doors were flung open, revealing the armoured ponies, intent on coming in. Seeing them, Murk had freaked out, spraying them with his F2000, killing half a dozen in less than three seconds. Before he could see what the hell was happening, magical discharges came flying into the room, taking out Murk and Garry. He bolted, running up the stairs onto the landing, as a flash of purpled exploded in front of him, expelling Twilight directly before him. Her horn had flashed, throwing him against the wall. Magical tethers suddenly wrapped themselves around his arms and legs, holding him there and gagging him. Twilight had disappeared downstairs. He was left alone.
He had been restrained for hours now. Downstairs, he heard sounds of talking, indistinct and muffled. Hopefully Garry and Murk were still alive after they got hit. He didn't fancy being at the ponies' mercy on his own.
Below him, the Elements of Harmony sat together, looking forlorn. This world was a far cry from peaceful Equestria and serene Ponyville. Twilight broke the silence first,
“Applejack, what happened to you when you were with these creatures? Did they say had planned this?”
“No, Twi, as a matter of fact, they didn't. They were just trying to look after themselves and find their missing friends in this evil place. Anyways, the one who attacked us had never seen a pony before, accordin' to Garry, and from the look on that guy's face. I'm inclined to believe him.”
“True, but surely this must have been premeditated in some way. Any sane pony doesn't just kill things at first sight. I'm highly skeptical that anything would even consider such a thing.”
“Twilight, you've seen this world with your own eyes, you've seen a few of the kind of horrors this place has, and trust me there are things much, much worse than that lone beast they killed.”
“But Applejack, they killed it! Shot it dead in cold blood!” How can you justify that?”
“From what things I've seen Twi, quite easily, so stop with your moral high-ground. These guys just do what they have to do, and that means kill any strange creatures before they horribly rip you to shreds, eat you alive or fry the brains inside your head! “
Twilight sat in silence, stunned. Fluttershy and Rarity were lost for words, unable to comprehend the dark, brutal nature of the Zone. Even Pinkie and Rainbow looked unhappy and depressed, without their usual cheer or bravado. Again, silence reigned.
It stayed that way until Princess Celestia entered.
“Princess, what's going on? Are we leaving this foul place? What are we doing with the prisoners?”
“Calm, Twilight Sparkle, I will answer your questions soon enough. We are apparently in some special land in their world called 'the Zone'. According to them this dreadful place was created when a nuclear power plant they had exploded, covering the surrounding area in radioactive fallout, to such an extent that it mutated the creatures and cause all sorts of strange phenomena. The rest of the world is apparently highly civilised, without almost all of the dangerous creatures that are found in this place. They are massively more technologically advanced than us, almost beyond the comprehension of magic. Also, this world is completely devoid of ambient and natural magic.”
“What? No magic whatsoever?”
“That is true Twilight. In this world, our magic will not replenish as it does in Equestria. Casting spells will be difficult for you and Rarity, and I assume the powers of the other types of ponies will be severely diminished. We must be careful using spells, considering that magic is our only way home.”
“How can they survive then. Things I've seen can't be done without magic.”
“They make up for it with their technology. They are maybe 100 years ahead of is with it, with a few exceptions, and maybe even 200 years ahead in scientific progress. Take for instance the little devices they all carry around with them. They use electricity conducted in special ways to perform all sorts of logical operations, and power the interactive lit-up display on them, allowing them to send data through thin air, and store information on them even when they aren't powered at all. The ones carried by these few have parts in them that store electricity, which is taken from sunlight converted into use for them by another gadget they carry. Such things are now even considered normal for them, apparently most of their people have one.
I am undecided whether to press on further into this world, and try to learn from this race, or to retreat back to Equestria, and disregard this place, and it's people, with their often violent and underhand ways, and let my little ponies find out about science and technology for themselves. I would dearly like to hear all your views on it, for you six do bear the Elements of Harmony, and your experiences learning the lessons of friendship may let you understand them better.”
“Well, as you say Princess, the humans are a violent race, naturally moreso than ponies, meaning that we would be in a dangerous position trying to negotiate with them, especially since they are divided into factions across their world, all of which have agendas and machinations, and who knows what will happen if we destabilise the balance of power.”
“That is true Twilight. I'm that treading carefully may be an understatement where they are concerned.”
“Also, Princess, if I may, these humans, after being stuck with them for a few days, it's often not the humans that create the violence, but their situation. I think that tha' poor guy who shot at us might'a just been scared, reacting on instinct, not out of spite at all. All the guys who I came across seemed decent at heart, if with their own flaws.”
The Princess looked at her, then back at Twilight.
“Is there anything else you learned from that creature's description of his world that might help?”
“Well, one thing does stand out Princess. He said that war, conflict and hardship acted as a catalyst for invention and progress. We have very little of that, thankfully, but I wonder if we can make any significant progress in that direction without urgent need to. It would certainly take a few centuries, if not longer, comparing our civilization to theirs.
On the other hand, trying to access their technology and learning properly would mean total integration, both ways. We would eventually have humans and ponies living on both worlds, no matter how much we resist, if we go down that path. Who knows what could happen if both races were linked permanently? From the evidence, it could either go brilliantly, and profit both sides, or cause unthinkable amounts of suffering. There is no way of telling which. That worries me lots.”
“So what do we do? I know this decision needs more time to think it over, and we need more conclusive information. What I propose is this: most of us return to Equestria, since this place is obviously unsafe. We'll take our three prisoners with us as well, to see of they can tell us anything else useful.
However, we will also need to gather more information on the world outside of this 'Zone'. There I am unsure what course of action we should pursue.”
Pinkie Pie nearly rocketed into the air.
“You could turn us into these human things. That would be so totally awesomeliciously amazing! Don't you agree Twilight?”
“Well, uh,”
“That, my dearest Pinkie Pie, is a possibility. We would need to return to Equestria to ensure a safe transformation, and also find a way for you to explore the wider world.”
“Princess, I think we would be discovered fairly quickly considering how little we know about human customs and lives. This place is apparently a lawless barely controlled by any of the 'countries' that the human Hiker told me about. Paradoxically, this might be the only place to be able to observe this world without being observed ourselves. As much as it might be dangerous, if we go outside this place, there'll be no turning back.”
“Hmm, what you say has merit. Excellent. We have a plan finally. We'll return to Equestria for the moment, and reconsider our position. I shall attempt to transform a few willing ponies, any of you if you wish, into these humans. From there, we'll explore this area known as the Zone, and try to learn what we can of the human race.”
Garry awoke with a groan. When Murk arrived, saying everything went to shit would have been an understatement. He could barely remember what happened, other than being hit by a projectile of purple flames. He looked around him. He was in a large marble ballroom, with stylized statues of ponies in various corners, and various rugs and carpets which he, Hiker and Murk were lying, covered with blankets and sheets. In one corner, by a window, was a large table on which a jug of water, and various items of food stood; by the look of it, mostly things based on salad or hay. He looked back at the other two. Murk had large, twisted patch of scar tissue reaching around the back of his neck, and stretching down onto his back, with irregular, rough edges. By the shape of it, it resembled some strange bite mark. Suddenly, it occurred to him. Though wrapped in blankets, they were all naked.
At this his brain really started to work as he fashioned something to cover himself with. Where the hell were they? Not the Zone, that was as clear as glass. Not some stately palace, who could possibly have a room made entirely of polished, perfect marble? The statues must mean... they were in whatever strange world had spawned those ponies. He shuddered at the thought. They obviously eschewed clothes. He didn't ask for this. All he had done was help them, and now they had kidnapped him. So much for friendship-loving peaceful creatures. He slowly rose, and padded over to the window. Looking out, the view was breathtaking. Stretching far below him was a city, resembling a massive castle of marble. Tall, pristine white towers poked up from the skyline, and on the main streets minute quadrupedal figures went about their daily life. It was beautiful to say the least. Standing there, looking at the cleanness and order of the place made him feel calm, shrugging off the stress of life in the Zone.
Taking a sip of water, he took a closer look at the place they were in. The doorway on the opposite side of the room was ornate, inlaid with what must be gold, silver and a multitude of gemstones. It must have been cleared out in a hurry, what with the various sets of chairs, tables, chandeliers and other stately goods tucked to the sides of the room. No sign of their gear though. Looking along at the food, there was little appetizing there. Three kinds of salad, flowers, hay, various strange types of fruit. Eventually he picked an apple, one of the few things he recognised. As he bit into it, he noticed a small note, written in exquisite handwriting:
“Dear Humans ,
I realise that you are probably confused. Let me explain: you are in Equestria, our homeland. Please attempt to behave in a civil manner, as last time one of your kind was here, he caused much grief and pain, though due to extraneous circumstances he was not punished. His name was Hiker I believe, one of you three here now. We will come to you soon after you wake, so we can discuss matters further,
Princess Celestia, co-ruler of the kingdom of Equestria”
Alarmed, he quickly ran to the others and shook them awake, ignoring their protests for more sleep. Once they had gotten over the situation, (Hiker took it calmly, though clutching his scarred cheek in anxiety. This 'Murk' tried repeatedly to pinch himself to wake up until Hiker assured him that this was very much real) they relaxed noticeably. something was gnawing at Garry's mind though.
“Murk, were you the man with Leshiy and Yar at the Laundromat? I found Leshiy's skeleton, along with his PDA log.'
“What? He recorded the attack there? Thank god for that, I thought we'd be lost without a trace. To answer your question yes, I was. To answer your next question, I don't know what the thing was that attacked us, except that it was tall, bigger than any man, with strange, deformed black skin, and this bulbous head, warped and twisted, with tentacles like a 'sucker has. It's gotta be psychic too, my vision went blurry and weird when it got close. To answer your third question, me and Yar split up, to try and lose the thing after we escaped the building, and I have no idea where he is, but knowing Yar, somewhere safe, with a cool vodka and everywhere for miles around in the sights of his SVD.”
“That's no mutant I've ever seen, let alone heard of.”
“Trust me, that's what killed Leshiy. Didn't see how though, we were running faster than a sprinter on speed to get away from that thing. Poor guy. I'll tell you the full story later. It's a long one, that needs lots of stiff drinks with it. I don't think telling it while pretty much stark naked in an alien world of bloody talking horse-things will do it justice.”
Hiker spoke up
“Just so you know, they're called ponies, the ones with horns do magic, some can fly, they all abhor all violence, and they worship that crazy Princess thing that wrote the note. The lack of clothes was a problem last time I was here, surprised they didn't take the hint. I don't know if I trust them further than I can spit."
“What do we do? We haven't got a way back without them anyway, so... I guess we've got no choice.”
The door opened.
__
In walked the Princess, accompanied by the six ponies that were with her in the Zone, including Twilight and Applejack. They stood in a semi-circle around them, piercing them with their gaze. The imposing Princess looked as enigmatic as ever, yet the others still held the same fear that they had developed from first contact.
“Humans, I come here to talk with you. As you, Hiker, know, we have been trying to understand your culture and society, a feat largely unsuccessful in the initial expedition into your world, due to the fact that this 'Zone' is so secluded and removed from the rest of the world as you have described to us. To venture into your world as ponies would be folly, that is clear. What I propose is, in the guise of humans, to send a small group out to pick up information about you and your culture. I understand even sending them out of the deadzone you say the Zone is would risk our discovery, so it would be wise to remain within the Zone.”
“You're saying that you want to send out ponies again, just disguised as humans?” said Garry after a short pause.
“In essence, yes.”
“Well, I suppose it would work better. I'm not convinced.”
“From what we've analysed, it is clear that as humans, the ponies will stand a better chance of defending themselves, and will most obviously be much less conspicuous. As we speak, our scientists are trying to reverse engineer and recreate your equipment, and we plan to outfit all of those going with the best we can do.”
The three humans look at each other. Hiker nodded at Garry. He spoke again.
“It seems like this might actually stand a chance of working, with some luck. With a bit of preparation, we might e able to get you into the loop of finding info about us. What remains to be seen is the quality of the kit you produce, the quality of the disguises, whatever they are, and who's going. I assume just one or two, like last time.”
“To answer your questions, I will magically transform the ponies that volunteered into humans, using magical residue heritage samples to determine the nature of your biology. What you have to realise is that this is no illusion, they will be, for all intents and purposes, humans for a large amount of time. I will show you personally Garry who will be traveling with you, as the other two will stay, to help us here.”
Garry fell silent. The Princess gestured to him to follow Twilight, who was nearby the door, ready to lead him away. He slowly stood, and followed her, seeming almost dazed at being separated from the others. Stalkers didn't like to go it solo. Many a greedy or foolhardy person had vanished or died without anyone to help or go looking for him.
Hiker and Murk still sat there, unsure what to say, having just being told they would be confined to the alien world. The rest of the ponies left after Twilight and Garry, leaving them with the Princess.
“I do not mean you an harm, let me say that first. I only wish you to give us as much information as we can about your world, so we can decide whether to attempt to contact it and earn it's ways. In return you will be kept safe, fed and looked after in this city, and educated about our culture, to repay our gratitude. You are not prisoners.”
Murk looked up.
“Well Princess, we seem to have a while, so we might as well start of in the beginning, with some of the classic Greek myths I remember from when I was a child...”
__
Garry followed the ponies throughout the various passages, deeper into the castle, feeling very self-conscious, even with the blanket he had draped around him like a toga.
“Twilight?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Do you realise that its considered indecent not to wear clothes in all human cultures?”
“Well, er, we assumed that all the things you wore were for protection, since wearing clothes is a largely cosmetic thing in pony society, but um, that seems quite obvious now...”
Garry sighed deeply. If anything, the major flaw of these creatures was their naivety, something completely alien in the cynical, sarcastic eyes of the assorted waste and neglected parts human that graced the Zone. Just the fundamental difference in outlook made the two races seem incompatible. Yet, who was he to judge? It was over a decade since he had lived in anywhere with a semblance of normality, years since he'd even stepped out of the Zone. It just kept calling to him, and every other stalker, the unnatural draw to the center, to the power plant itself. Strelok had felt that, and unlike almost every other, had lived to return. He had returned a changed man, both times he'd been. He remembered talking to the three of them, some of the best stalkers in the Zone's history, about to set out to make it. When they came back, they bore only unanswered questions, tales of locked doors. The youthful spark was gone from them, replaced by a dark determination.
Over the time afterwards, the Zone was almost successful in keeping its closely guarded secrets. Ghost died on a job that went badly wrong for the scientists, Fang killed after being left for dead in Pripyat, and abandoned alone there. Garry hadn't known any of the three that well, but he managed to find Fang's grave, despite it's lethal position in the courtyard directly in front of the Monolith headquarters in the city.
He knew little of what happened to Strelok when he had left for the second time, other than he became a Marked One, an agent of the mysterious C-Consciousness rumoured to exist. Little was known about the various Marked Ones in the Zone's history. Only two people had ever been found with the distinctive tattoo of S.T.A.L.K.E.R on the arm: Strelok and Strider. Their purpose was anyone's guess, though a loner by the name of Hermit had once told him about the speculation of the experiments that went on deep inside the Zone's underground labs.
Garry snapped back to reality. Before him stood two ponies, a midnight blue one, as tall and as regal as the Princess, along with a stocky Zebra, decorated with all sorts of African-style trinkets and bangles. Twilight turned to him, saying:
“We've assembled the four of us who are going to accompany you back. You know me, so let me introduce the others. To your left is Rainbow Dash, ahead of you is the zebra alchemist Zecora, and the royal Princess Luna.”
Garry stood there, thoroughly unenthused by the group.
“Hey.”
“The Princess and I thought it would be wise to transform now, to get used to our new bodies, considering where we're going. Can I also say that this has never been done before, so we don't quite know what will happen, but hopefully nothing bad, like getting bodies mixed up or only certain parts being transformed or-”
“Calm thyself, Twilight. Relax. Let us perform the spell.”
Twilight stepped forward, slowing her hyperventilating to stand in front of Luna. Out of each of their horns came a long, shining tendril of pure energy. Garry watched in amazement as the two met, and curled around each other, melding then splitting into four, each reaching out to one of the ponies in the room. As each approached, it widened, slowly encapsulating each pony in a bubble of magic, swirling and sparkling. Suddenly, a fifth leapt out of the join, flinging itself towards him, latching onto his arm. As the spell continued, each one slowly increased in size, audibly humming with power. In a flash, all four magical cocoons vanished, along with their tethers.
His jaw dropped. Out of each one, came a human. Stood before him were four women, all looking just as confused as he felt. They were no-where near normal however. Though their bodies and features where almost perfect, they had retained aspects of their previous appearances. Specifically, Luna's hair was still it's hovering, shimmering blue, and from her forehead her horn still sprouted. Large, feathered wings sat behind her back, the same colour as her previous fur. The same went for Twilight and Rainbow Dash. Only Zecora passed for a human, with her deep ebony skin and black hair with streaks of grey. The Princess was perhaps the first one to recover from the transformation, almost falling over on her unsteady legs.
“How does one walk on only two legs? It seems impossible, I just seem to fall one way or another.”
Rainbow Dash solved the problem by beating her huge, cyan-plumed wings, lifting her up into the air, and promptly propelling her onto her back. Zecora and Twilight fared better, managing a few shaky steps to reach various items of furniture to support themselves with. Garry just stood there chuckling at the four grown women trying and comically failing to even stand. He took a look at the protective suits that the ponies had reverse engineered. By the look of things, they were fairly sturdy and would protect well against fire, chemicals and the elements, and shut out a decent amount of radiation. They were light too. The only problems came with them being brightly coloured in the hue of the pony it was designed for, being designed to men's bulky dimensions and having protection against neither bullets nor claws.
He would see if he could find whichever of the ponies in this place made them, and get them changed. Even worse, he knew there was a high probability they'd be shot on sight in the Zone, or worse. The complete and utter absence of women in the Zone meant tensions ran high, and few would take kindly to some of them having large wings or horns on their foreheads. How they would go incognito was anyone's guess.
__
He'd searched for days. No sign of them anywhere, not in the city, not in the surrounding areas, not in the underground labs.
He felt helpless without them.
After the things had arrived, and the Zone had sent its warning, they had vanished. He'd been left on his own, aimless.
He had almost reached back to the small presence in his mind, almost begged it to take him back. He had resisted, thankfully.
Even now, it's power gave him trouble sleeping at night.
He didn't know anyone that might feel it too, apart from the Strider. He was not close enough to visit, being as he was forging a new identity for him and his men in the uncharted new areas of the Zone.
The old Zone was falling apart now, all the structure that had held the balance of power had shattered, and the Zone had ruthlessly swept in to pick up the pieces, like the proverbial grim reaper.
The time of the petty squabbles between bandit and loner, the war between Duty and Freedom had come. Such things seemed civilized compared with the muffled radio messages he heard every so often.
He wasn't sure if he could go on like this, alone, deserted by thing that had given him purpose for so long.
__
Garry was unsure what to do. All the kit was ready. Plans had been made, crude sketch maps drawn, issues raised. For over a week, they had prepared. Just things didn't feel right. Twiight and Luna were woefully under-prepared for the harsh life as a stalker. If only Applejack was here, she had grasped life in the Zone well. This Rainbow Dash, she was strong, fast and daring, but stubborn and reckless. Stalkers like her surfaced from time to time, sure of themselves, kitted out with as much as they could buy. Their corpses were occasionally found, other times just the PDA, gun and bones. Zecora he had faith. She at least appreciated the dangers and often unintuitive ways needed to survive.
All in all, things weren't looking great, but realistically, they were the best they were likely to be. That was good, since they were stood at attention, ready to be taken back to man made hell.
As forewarning, the monster appears, and the result is not nice.
===========
Hiker and Murk sat glumly in their opulent, lavish, palatial prison. They had given Celestia and her strange pony advisors all they knew over the last week, barely left with a moment's rest. The incessant questions had sapped their morale and willpower, leaving them tired and weak from the purely vegetarian menu. On a few occasions Garry had reappeared, telling them he'd been press-ganged like Hiker to help them explore Earth. For the last day, only guards had entered their large suite, telling them that Garry had departed, that the ponies had learned all they needed. The only upside was that they had their suits back, in the absence of human clothes.
Murk dug into the armoured webbing attached to his SEVA suit. He felt around inside a large ammo compartment, clawing at the sides. After a little struggling, a flap came undone, producing a small multi-tool, worn and slightly rusty from years of use. He held it up to the light, flicking through the various utensils attached. Hiker looked at him, dejected as usual.
“I kept this here in case I got captured by the bandits, or Duty. I nearly forgot I had it.”
“What are you going to do with it anyway? We're stuck here at their mercy. At least last time they didn't realise what we could do, and there's no way we'll escape from in their castle inside their bloody capital city.”
“I don't know, if we can persuade them to let us out into the open I reckon we could do it. I would do anything for a good sausage right now, bits of grass and plant won't sustain us.”
__
With a brilliant flash of light, Garry and the humanized ponies materialized into existence, into a rainy night in Pripyat. Staggering from the teleportation, led by Garry they ran to the shelter of an awning outside a building next to them. The four women wore their refined protective suits, now khaki and grey, with all sorts of pockets and pouches containing fresh vegetables and fruit, along with magical first aid supplies, water and countless other sundries. Nothing that was considered as necessary for the Zone, like a detector, a gun, anti-rads, bolts, a gasmask or binoculars.
They stood there, soaked to the skin from the torrential downpour. The only light was from Garry's PDA, shining on the makeshift group and the musty old structure behind them. According to it, they were near the center of the city, but with the visibility being barely to the other side of the street, that was hard to verify. Twilight and Luna were mumbling something to each other, but the sound of rain and thunder overpowered everything. Gary barely made the beep of the PDA out, alerting him to an approaching stalker. Out of the rain came a tall figure. Through the rain, all that could be made out was his exoskeleton. He was limping. Garry braved the rain, and ran out to meet him. It was Giant.
“What the hell are you doing out in the rain, big man! I'll explain in a second, get to cover first!!”
As he got closer, he stalled. In one hand was a PDA. The other hand was missing. Other than that he carried nothing, no weapons. Dark brown stains covered his armour, encrusted into the fabric of the suit. Huge tears and gashes riddled it, and the leg he was limping on was seeping blood. As he came within a meter of Garry, he looked directly at him. The lenses of his mask were shattered and broken, dripping blood. Though the small gaps, remains of eye tissue sat mangled inside. He stopped. Garry was speechless.
“The Zone is punishing it's subjects. It's warnings have gone unheeded too long. It has unleashed a beast to prey on all, worshipers and desecrators alike. The Monolith has abandoned us. The Monolith has abandoned us. The Monolith has abandoned us-”
Garry stood there, looking at the thing that used to be his friend. He carefully took the PDA from him, looking at what it showed. He turned it on. It displayed a single image. He nearly vomited.
The picture was taken of the central Pripyat theatre, the Monolithian's HQ. Everywhere body parts were strewn, mangled and ripped. Barely any of the corpses were recognisable. Those that were bore the grey and green pattern of their faction. The limbs clearly not cut, but ripped from their owners. Torsos were impaled on the central beacon that stretched to the ceiling, their faces smashed and broken. There was no sign of a fight. No drawn weapons. No shell casings or dropped mags. No sign of what did the foul deed. On the far wall however was the worst sight of all. In letters five feet high, daubed in the blood of the massacre was a message.
“Because it wishes it.”
Garry pressed to see the next image. A hulking figure, vaguely humanoid, stood over the camera, barely visible in the low light of the image. In one hand it clutched Giant's severed hand, as if taunting at the photographer, eyes glowing with malice of intelligence and hatred.
Garry looked up. The shell of a man in front of him was still reciting his mantra. Nothing could be done for him. He took his handgun from his holster. It was a mercy. He didn't deserve any of what had happened to him. Garry shot him cleanly through the forehead.
The women standing watching screamed, and ran to Garry, shouting at him until they saw Giant, lying in his destroyed state on the flaw. The three of them looked up to him, expectantly, terrified and shocked. Only Rainbow was capable of words.
“Garry, by Celestia, what is that thing, it looks horrible! That beast deserved to be shot.”
“He was my friend.”
__
Garry and Murk were asleep when the door opened, revealing a host of guards. A sharp voice broke the silence.
“Get up, creatures! We have much to discuss.”
One of the ponies, dressed differently to the rest, trotted over to the pair, kicking them awake to the early morning glow on the horizon. As they groggily got up, he continued.
“I am Prince Blueblood, nephew to the Princess. She wishes for you to learn the 'magic of friendship' in Ponyville with the remaining Elements of Harmony. I got you up at this stupid hour to get you on the early morning train. We had to comandeer it to ship you two alone. I don't see why she bothers personally. You don't seem like you'd benefit from our culture and society, so why she doesn't leave you here to rot or kick you back to whatever sun-forsaken place you came from is a mystery to me.”
With that, the guards marched them from the room, leading them down through empty halls to the gatehouse in silence. As a carriage pulled up, Murk looked to Hiker. This was their chance. They were quickly bundled into it, and drawn away. After a short, cramped trip, they were put onto a deserted train, accompanied by a pair of stern pegasus guards. They sat on the child-sized seats as the train pulled away from the station, leaving the early-morning city behind. Hilly countryside passed them, revealing the tall, proud mountains the city was built on. As the mountains flashed by, Murk whispered to Hiker,
“Now.”
Murk leapt up, knocking the nearest guard cold before he could react. The other made to shout, as Hiker tackled him, pushing him to the floor. Murk stood over the trapped pony, slamming it hard in the temples. It went out like a light. Murk turned to the door, fiddling at the handle with his multi-tool, unscrewing the lock from the door. With a kick, he sent it flying open. The fields and hills rushed by them. A small village was nearby, on the horizon. He motioned to Hiker. He jumped. Hiker followed him to the edge, looking for his companion, seeing him sliding down the embankment. He leapt into space.
Garry and the girls wandered through Pripyat, heading west, towards the center. He was devastated by the demise of Giant. He had barely spoken, only to give tersely worded orders and instructions. It was clear that they were in shock from the appearance of the mutilated stalker. He saw the fear in their eyes every time he looked at them. Even stubborn Rainbow Dash and level-headed Zecora were shaken up heavily. Nothing had troubled them, except for a lone snork. It had leapt towards them, seeing an easy meal. The four women screamed. He swung the butt of his rifle, slamming it in it's torso as it landed on him. Rolling on top of it, he held it down, pressing on the monster's torn visage with his sniper-rifle. Pulling out his knife, he drove it into the thing's skull, to the hilt. The four ponies stood there watching, as he utterly destroyed the mutated beast of the soldier, annihilating it's head and neck entirely. He was a changed man. After that the four had stayed silent as well.
=
Hiker looked down on the small village. According to the sign on entrance, it was called Haysborough. Bloody pun-based names. Murk was starting a fire, and preparing a shelter while he went out to check out the village. All they had were sharpened lengths of wood, crude spears. Still, enough to fend off anything Equestria had to offer, hopefully. The ponies didn't seem like they were preyed on anything. Below him, life went on for the equines, going about their daily business. He headed back to camp, dejected. What was there to do?
=
It was late afternoon in Pripyat. They were stood at one edge of the large central courtyard in front of the theatre. The long-worn remains of some statue stood before them, surrounded by gravitational anomalies. Garry held up a hand to the others, stopping them as he walked in between them, snaking a path across the cracked and overgrown concrete slabs. At the feet of the statue there was a long, low pile of earth, covered with weeds and headed by a cross. On a little makeshift metal plaque, a few short inscriptions were carved:
“Fang, seems like even the Zone does not relent for it's toughest stalker. Rest in peace, brother. Ghost”
“I'm on my way Fang, to get past that locked door. To find the truth. It's just me left now, Ghost is dead, Doctor is too old for these things now. I wonder if anyone will ever remember us, and the way we held the Zone at our mercy, if only for a while. The path ahead gets ever darker, ever more dangerous, and I know that whatever happens, I expect not to return. All I can hope for is an answer, before the end, as we all did. I'll let you both know soon when I see you. Strelok”
Garry stood there, in front of the grave for a while, in reflection. The little cross was a historic turning point in the Zone. After Strelok penetrated the NPP to the core, the Zone had spiraled slowly down and down into darkness and anarchy. The time of the stalkers, and their artifact hunting and wars and adventures and lives and deaths was in it's twilight hours. How many months before they were gone completely, defeated by the Zone's defense mechanisms. He made his way back to the other four.
“That small grave belonged to a legend among stalkers. One of the trio who reached the power plant and lived to tell the tale.”
“Well, how come he's dead then?” asked Rainbow
“It was as if they were cursed by the journey, for they were split and all but Strelok killed, The Zone is a sentient being, with machinations beyond human comprehension.”
“Yeah right. Even I don't believe that” replied Twilight. She looked highly skeptical.
“I am deadly serious. There is hard evidence, buried deep inside the dark laboratories of the Zone. They built something, something with a mind. Strelok met it in person apparently, according to an intelligence officer that infiltrated the Zone as a stalker that met him.”
“Are you crazy? You can't just simply create a sentient being out of nothing but a radiation filled wasteland. I find your version of events hard to believe.”
“From what I have heard and seen over the years, they didn't just create it out of nothing. There was something among the documents that hinted at a human conscience, maybe more than one. Whatever it is, there is something at the heart of the Zone beyond the radiological waste and hoards of artifacts that people dream of, that the scientists built.”
“Whatever it is Garry, can we please move on? I do not wish to linger in this cold city.” asked Luna.
“You are right. We should go.”
He led them on, through the shattered bones of the ancient Soviet city.
==
Hiker and Murk sat by the fire, tearing chunks out of a loaf of bread and slowly cooking a rabbit, skinned and attached to a spit. Their raid on the village had been lucrative. With a small lean-to shelter made of branches and copious leaves and foliage, and a small fire pit with logs to sit on, they had somewhere to call home in this alien land.
“How did you get the bread in the end, Hiker? Was it easy lifting it from one of those thing's shops?”
“To be honest, all I had to do was go round the backs of the houses, then out onto the street into the bakery. It was as dead as a graveyard, not a soul in sight for the whole time I was there. The door wasn't even locked, it was practically an invitation...”
As they sat regaling memories, the night sky of Equestria lay dull and unimaginative compared to the glorious day, telltale of Luna's absence, leaving the moon hovering motionless and small. All around them, strange animals roamed the night, calling to each other, the soundscape the antithesis to the silence of the Zone night that would be broken by howls and distant screams. Nearby, a family lay sobbing and weeping at the hooves of a young mare; a family of rabbits robbed of their father.
The mare held them and comforted them, trying desperately to understand their frantic gestures and cries. In the woods, down a track leading away from the village, she saw a plume of smoke rising. She slowly rose, and left the rabbits to their mourning, heading towards the smoke with baited breath, trying to calm the hammer in her heart. As the path rose, a glow lit the trees ahead of her, and voices rose over the sounds of the night. She crawled to the bushes covering the glow. Two green, gangly monsters sat in discussion over their meal, the poor father rabbit. Seeing the charred animal being so cruelly eaten, she retched, the odour of burnt flesh invading her muzzle. She turned to one side, letting her rebelling stomach get the better of her. She crawled back out, determined to get justice for the poor, helpless rabbits.
==
As the sky above them began to clear, Garry stopped by a road intersection. He pulled out his PDA. Looking intently at the map. The others drew up behind him.
“Why've we stopped? Are you lost or something, human?”
Garry looked around angrily at her. “No, Rainbow Dash, I am trying to decide which way we take. West leads to Yanov Station and Jupiter, South towards Rostok and the Army Warehouses, through the Radar. Neither way is particularly easy, and everything really depends on what you four want out of this casual little jaunt into one of the most dangerous places on the planet. If we go West to Yanov, you won't learn all that much, there's shit all there. It's a frontier for most stalkers, and too dangerous for most traders and dealers. Go South, and you'll get all you need and more from Barkeep at the Bar. However, the rest of the Zone will end up probably knowing just as much about you, whether you like it or not. Feel free to chose yourselves if you think you know better.”
“Let us think on this, Garry. This is a most important decision.”
Luna led the rest of the transformed ponies into a huddle, muttering and murmuring, clearly not trusting their guide with their silly, ill thought-out plans. He wanted no truck with it. All he wished for was a safe bed, a cool vodka and company of his own species for once. The inhuman idioms of the four women unnerved him, and only Zecora truly treated him with respect and tact.
He looked to the west, towards Yanov and the area around Jupiter. To get there they had to cross the foetid, stinking canal that separated it from Pripyat, on a makeshift bridge of junk and waste that led through the chemical anomalies. It was a nasty route, for sure, but unfortunately it was the only one available that led between the City and the countryside in that direction. The small rail tunnel nearby the crossing provided respite for travelers. He turned back to the ponies.
“Lead us West, to this Yanov.”
==
Every day began to gain a routine for the two out of place stalkers in rural Equestria. Each morning they would set out into the woods, foraging for berries and fruit, trapping for animals. Though easy at first, the rabbits and other creatures became ever more wary of the pair, running at the sight of them, even trying in vain to repel them by throwing small stones and sticks. They were quickly becoming an unviable source of food. Thankfully tracks of something larger were etched into the mud of the forest floor. Hunting something possibly edible was a welcome change from the irradiated mutated flesh of the Zone's wildlife. They hadn't been spotted by any ponies, thankfully, but they couldn't be too careful, living so close to the village. They'd refrained from stealing too much more food; getting caught didn't bear thinking about.
==
Leafy Glades had always enjoyed searching for the company of the animals, feeding them in the snowy depths of winter, watching their young ones in spring. But now they came to her, some teary-eyed and sobbing from loss of family to the monsters, others bereft of homes, all affected by the two creatures that had taken up residence in the woods surrounding Haysborough. Bread had been stolen from the baker, cloth and blankets from the local clothes maker, and only she knew what was behind it all.
Action needed to be taken.
==
The five made their way down to the edge of the canal. Garry paused at the water's edge, looking for a path through the muck. The others lined up behind up, casting long shadows in the still evening air laced with noxious fumes. As they watched, he produced his hand-held detector, panning around.
“Hey, Garry, are we going anywhere? Can't me and the Princess just fly across?”
Garry looked back at them ruefully.
“Feel free, just stay close, and please don't go above the ridge. I'd so hate anyone taking pot-shots at you.” he replied sarcastically, returning to searching for a path as the two winged women prepared for flight. All around the tall reeds obscured his vision, setting his nerves on edge. The Zone was outright lethal now, a far cry from the early days when one could walk without fear from the cordon all the way to the Barrier.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, he led the remaining two out onto a long concrete tube, traversing the acidic swamp water to a mound of earth leading to the other side. In the distance sat Luna and Rainbow Dash, giving encouragement and support to their two comrades behind him. Balancing carefully, he jogged on ahead, when a low, distant roar shattered the early evening silence. The two on the bank shot to their feet, as Garry, Twilight and Zecora sprinted for the safety of the canal-side. As the others rushed up the bank to safety, Garry unslung his Vintorez, heart beating, looking for the creature that was following them.
There was none, not even the rustling and shimmering of a bloodsucker.
He turned and ran for the others, waiting for him at the top, practically shaking with fear.
“What in Celestia's name was that Garry?” asked Twilight quietly.
They stood on an old railway track, leading round the huge quarry that dominated eastern Yanov.
“No idea, all I know is that we need to get to the station now. No time for rest.”
He took a pace forward, then abruptly stopped. The others stood on, perplexed.
“Erm, are we going Garry? You said this place was dangerous...”
He stood there, binoculars against his eyes, looking over the quarry into the murky twilight of the dusk. He stayed there, stock still, lowering his binoculars, and pointed towards a flashing lump on the horizon. Quiet cracks and bangs pierced the air.
“Change of plan. That building under attack is Yanov Station, the only safe-house within reach before all the nasty shit comes out in the night. Something bad must be happening, it's a no fire Zone. Come!” He looked south, towards a tunnel down the railway line. “We'll have to camp out there instead.”
==
Leafy sat dejectedly in her room, over-looking the main street of the little village of Haysborough. Her teacher had accused her of telling stories when she had brought up the monsters in school that morning. No one had believed her, even though it was true! Why wasn't life fair? She would have to wait for these monsters herself, even if it meant not sleeping...
After a week of tiring nights, all thoughts of monsters were forgotten. The animals had slowly adapted to the disruption, and no more bread had been stolen. She was beginning to think she'd imagined them. She sat staring out of the window, thoughts wandering aimlessly in the spring warmth. Outside, spots appeared in the sky, approaching slowly. Pegasi. She squealed in delight, peering for a closer look. Haysborough had always been purely a unicorn and earth pony settlement, being so far from Cloudsdale and the other floating cities. She ran down to the front door, out into the street for a better look. Rats of sunlight glinted from shining armour and helmets: they were Royal Guards, their experience shown by their sharp spears and proud scars of battle. As they landed, ponies from all over the town rushed out to meet them, greeting the rarely seen presence of the Royals. The leader of the group, a tall bronze-haired rough-looking stallion, held up a hoof with a document, quieting the crowds.
“The Royal Guard is tracking two highly dangerous beasts that escaped in the surrounding forests. They are tall, two legged animals, tail-less and mostly hairless, covering themselves in green cloths and skins. Anyone with information on them is asked to come forward to help us find the creatures.”
In his hoof he held a rough sketch of the two things she had so almost disregarded. Now was her chance! She stepped towards the guards.
Murk sat blearily by the dying fire, stoking it with a branch. All around him the cries and squawks and noises of the forest penetrated, alien to his ears. None of the animals he'd seen had been truly similar to their Earth counterparts, from the highly intelligent small mammals like rabbits and badgers, to the complete lack of deer, wild horses, moose, or cows. Ignoring the rustling and shaking of the bushes in the wind, he wiped his tired eyes, and stood, heading off to relieve himself as the first rays of dawn poked above the horizon. Pushing past shrubs, he came face to face with a spear, pointed directly at him.
==
Hiker slowly crawled out from his camouflaged shelter, covered with leaves and branches. Looking out, he saw Murk standing still, facing the bushes, raising his hands. Puzzled by the strange sight, and his early morning tiredness, he blinked it from his mind, standing up further out of his small abode. Murk's head suddenly swiveled around to face him, contorted in shock.
“Run! They've-”
His shout was cut off by a spear erupting through his neck with a sickening crunch, pouring a torrent of blood down his body. As the fatally wounded stalker slumped to the ground, dead almost instantly, armoured ponies leapt from behind him, charging at him. He sprinted.
Running for his life, he sprinted past trees and vaulted logs, splashing through streams and leaping over rocks, into the wild. Hoofsteps were not far behind, getting louder. He pushed on, straining against his tired early-morning body and protesting lungs. The ponies were built for long distance gallops, not speed off the start. He weaved and turned hopelessly, crashing through the ever-thickening forests of rural Equestria, the effort to evade his pursuers getting ever greater.
=
Garry entered the railway tunnel first, rifle pointed into the severe darkness. All around him the dank smell of moss and musty mould filled the air, contrasting to the dead silence. He advanced step by step, towards the old decrepit carriage near the opening, left to rot outside the huge, rusted bulkheads that prohibited any travel further in. Swinging his flashlight round, he saw a ladder leading up to a small steel platform at the ceiling of the tunnel, by an alcove in the concrete walls. Sweeping one last time, he quickly padded over to the ladder, leaving his rifle propped up by the wall in favour of his handgun. Grasping the rungs, he carefully ascended, silent as the wind. From the perspective of the women waiting outside, he disappeared into the enveloping blackness.
As he slid back down a moment later, he motioned for them to follow him up, collecting his VSS. Once they had all managed the climb, he led them into a small space, the control room for bulkheads by the look of it, now defunct.
“We can rest here for the night, it seems as safe as we can get for the moment, so set up all your sleeping gear while I make us some food.”
==
Hiker paused, out of breath. He could no longer hear the hoofsteps behind him. Panting heavily, bent double, he looked around at his surroundings, taking in this new area of forest, darker and more imposing than before. The trees were draped with moss, the forest floor a dank leaf litter rather than the soft grasses that pervaded most of the Equestrian wilderness. He was back in the same woods he had found the Zebra's hut on that fateful night. He stroked his scarred cheek in memory.
Leaves began to blow around him, brushing past his sweaty legs, swirling through the undergrowth. The whispers of the winds ebbed and gushed, the trees around him shivered and rustled in protest, as clouds covered the darkening sky. Things appeared greyer now, dull and more lifeless, away from the nurturing sun.
As he rounded a corner in the vague path he followed, an obelisk stood firm in his way, a tall, resolute standing stone inscribed with weathered symbols. As tall as some of the trees, it loomed over him. Vines grew up it's sides, twisting over it's harsh faces. Weather-worn and chipped, overcome by the forest, it was a sorry sight. Hiker felt at peace in it's presence, as if the false warmth of Equestria was gone, replaced by something older and more... earthen.
Wandering up to it, he tugged at the vines that ensnared it, brushing off the accumulated muck and dirt, pulling away all that covered it. It felt strangely nice working in the cool breeze, under the cloudy skies. For over an hour he worked at it, carefully tending to it like a cherished weapon, cleaning and tuning it to deadly perfection. As he stepped back to admire his efforts, the characters on it's surface flashed with blue light, illuminating the fading evening forest for a few scant seconds.
As the light seeped away, a silhouette of dark robes hovered in front of the tall obelisk, floating gently in the breeze. The vaguely equine shape turned towards him, speaking in a ghostly voice.
“Thank you, traveler. The ponies no longer care for the ancient forests anymore, let alone the spirits and denizens that reside within. I see that you do not belong here, and there is little I can do to help you with that, Still I wish you well on your journey, and tell you that the only way out for you is with the Sun-Goddess, and that you are to be admired for not bowing to the bittersweet ways of the ponies. I leave you a little token of my thanks, it is good to see some things are still acting freely in this world, even with the bounds of the Everfree reducing every day. It will hinder the orderly magic of ponies in it's presence, and contains many a hidden use inside for you to discover. Farewell, free being.”
As the shade faded away, he stood speechless. The mysteries of the magical forests seemed to compound themselves with every mile he went. On the ground before him lay a spherical stone, glowing lightly from the three lines that bisected it along each axis. He reached down to touch it, feeling it's soft power through his fingers. Pocketing it into an artifact pouch, he felt reinvigorated and refreshed, as if after a cool shower following a hot day.
=
Garry set out from their encampment in the tunnel, determined to discover the fate of Yanov after the firefight that happened mere hours ago. The others he left behind. This was not going to be a safe trip, and he needed to scavenge them all the kit needed to survive, like proper stalker suits and firearms. Wandering through the misty wetlands around the Quarry in the early morning was ethereal, the only sounds were the whispers of the breeze and the distant caw of crows, mixed with the hint of the pungent fumes from the pit nearby him. As he passed the Bitumen anomaly, the ground began to rise, leading up to the shapes of the station buildings rising from the mist.
Upon approach, his head began to tingle, colours became harsher and brighter, and the rarest of all the warning signals broke the silence; a long, high-pitched warble, that of psy-emissions. Quickly backing off, he produced his PDA. A single new message was present on it.
“Stalker, this is an automated message from Professors Hermann and Ozersky, Get clear of the Yanov and Jupiter areas immediately. A huge force force of mutants, mostly bloodsuckers, has attacked the station, wiping out most of the garrison there. The survivors are heading directly for Zaton and the Skadovsk outpost there, due to the highly increased density of mutated creatures and humans in this area. We ourselves are being evacuated within the week, along with any remaining members of our guard and expeditionary groups. A small group of stalkers is remaining here to investigate, headed by Kremen. I cannot stress to you enough the severity of the situation. In accordance, the respective leaders of the Freedom and Duty forces have agreed a truce in the north-west Zone until things start recover. Again we urge you, escape now while you can. Anomalous activity is making many more routes out impassable. End of broadcast.”
Garry paused, taking in the information. He still needed kit and to find this group led by Kremen, whoever he was. It would be vital to getting out of here. Whatever was causing this catastrophe, it was pushing the stalkers to breaking point.
Luna felt the voices. The rest did not, they were too busy trying to sleep or to rationalize the recent events, but she could almost sense things approaching. Her natural affinity for all things hidden or concealed let her tap into her surroundings, perceiving the tiniest details. Being with blackened souls drew near. She dreaded to think what they were. Outside, rain was battering down, and trickling streams flowed into the rail tunnel as the ping of droplets hitting the metal surfaces below hissed. The voices were getting closer now; she could make out words,
“Get insi.... damn rain”
“...n't see a thing, hope you wha.... doing boss.”
“Kostyan, take p....”
Lights flickered on underneath her, a torch-beam sweeping around the gloom. Scrambling away from the edge of the suspended cabin they sat in, she landed heavily on the ancient controls, shattering the silence with a clang. Suddenly, the beam of light swung up to surround her hiding place, scanning for movement. The mutterings below were drowned out by the rain. Now would be a good time for Garry to return from his mysterious scouting trip.
Peering out once more, she got a better look at the intruders. They were huge and imposing, clad in pipes and metal plates, similar to those worn by that cadaverous thing that they had found in the city. She could see four of them, judging by their torches, spreading out through the tunnel, heading for the lone ladder that led to her. Ducking back down, her mind raced for a plan. In the background, clanking of rungs rang out.
She shut her eyes in preparation for the end.
=
“Blaaack raven, blaaack raven...”
From outside the Schevchenko, lighting, rain and thunder pounded the ruined vessel.
“Blaaack raven, blaaack raven...
“Shut up man, I don't wanna die in this shithole!”
Even when thunder receded and rain paused for but a moment, the pounding remained. Against the door. Louder now.
“Blaaack raven, blaaack raven...'
“What do you mean, for fuck's sake, shut with that weird mumbo jumbo, I got a life to live!”
The door was creaking in protest. The smashing against it was louder than the storm now. Howls and snarls accompanied each loud bang.
“Blaaack raven, black raven, circling above the grave... "
As the doors burst open the horrors of the night erupted into room in a torrent of flesh, ripping the stalkers limb from limb.
=
The old man sat there, at peace with the world, contemplating his life and the uncertain times they held. Admittedly he was worse for wear than usual. His current abode was dirty and unkempt; he himself was much the same. The weather here had been bad of late, all rain and fog. That and the constant interruptions of the hard times had meant he'd barely had time to go out to get food, stock up his daily doses of tablets he needed, and the local traders he got everything else from had all left. He was left alone in his little room, huddling by the fire, remembering days gone past. He felt like a pensioner, for fuck's sake, at 34. What was his life coming to?
At least his line of expertise gave a healthy mix of exercise and rest, but seeing life through crosshairs, counting the days by bullets left and the nights that he'd survived, it weighed on his mind. He had never taken pleasure in the killing, but even so his sights always unconsciously aligned on a skull.
As Uncle Yar sat staring out of the Pripyat window, looking west though his scope down to the land below, wet and hilly. Four figures were in view, hiding from the elements in the shelter of a tunnel. The mutants in the local area were drifting back to their lairs. Nothing was left visible on the horizon, except perhaps one shape that resembled a man, a very unlucky man to be stuck out in the rain.
=
The driving rain rushed over the exposed hillsides of the area around Yanov, swirling around Garry as he headed back to their shelter in the tunnel. Nothing would stop him, this place wasn't safe, and leaving the women alone in the dark was getting more risky by the second. His boots squelched through the muddy earth as he jogged east, under the imposing shadow of Jupiter.
He paused, tired, under a tree, trying to seek what little cover there was from the rain. Looking out over the factory, it resembled a dead concrete behemoth, it's corpse crumbling and decaying, still and lifeless under the battering of the elements. Suddenly, a pulse of subsonic sound shook him, ringing through his feet and chest. He looked up, as a blue glow started to envelope the buildings, harsh and unearthly, sliding off them onto the land and sky, spreading and shifting. It was all around him now, clawing at his vision, as the patter of rain became an intolerable ringing stabbing his mind, causing his vision to blur and shift. Psy-emissions. He turned and ran, staggering and swaying as the blue field intensified. Ghostly shapes of all sorts of horrors started to drift closer and closer to him.
He fell to the ground, holding his head in his hands, as trickles of blood started to seep from his nose and eyes. He couldn't even register trying to find psy-block meds, he just crawled on all fours, animalistic, pulling himself away from the nightmarish visions. Out of the factory entrance came a dark figure, exuding sheer blackness, seeming to absorb the blue field around him like a black hole. It strode up to his kneeling form, writhing at the pain in his head, standing at least two meters tall. Lifting a hand to his face, it sunk it's claws into his bloodshot eyeballs. Everything went red.
=
“The fuck....”
“What you got up there Kostyan? Speak to me.”
“Four weird girl... things, boss. Unconscious or dead, I dunno, but they aren't human. You've gotta see this.”
The rungs of the ladder clattered once more, followed by more clunking footsteps on the gantries.
“My word. I must be seeing things. Floating blue hair, and wings? That's a new mutation I haven't seen before. Check the others, this creeps me out big time.”
The footsteps receded, presumably headed towards Twilight and the others. She exhaled slightly, restraining her shivers of fear. They were at the mercy of those huge mechanical monsters. She would have no chance if they-
“Hey, boss, this one's like you!”
“Shut up, Kostyan. At least she's the only unmutated one here. They all seem to have unique features as well, unlike the Zone's spawn. This isn't it's work.”
“What do we do?”
“Go down to Hog and Sickle, tell them to set up camp for the night here. I'll be just a second.”
Luna opened her eyes as the slightly smaller giant made his way down. Carefully collecting herself, she enveloped a small screwdriver with her magic; better than nothing. Raising it above her, she prepared to stand, aiming it at the towering mechanical giant with it's back to her. A deep, raspy voice broke the silence.
“I would stop that if I were you.”
The skeletal visage and dead lenses of the man's mask turned to stare at her.
“Up slowly, no sudden movements.”
=
Hiker stumbled further and further between the twisted boughs. His supplies were low. For three days he'd trekked through the forest, a dark blight on Equestria's sterile cleanness. It had swallowed him, immersing him in it's shadowy world. Only scant beams of light penetrated or escaped. For three days, no sign of an edge, an end.
All the plants and berries looked wholly inedible, and nothing but a pointed stick, he was not much of the efficient hunter-gathers that he had evolved from. It was not like it mattered anyway. He was a dead man. The royal sisters had obviously had enough of the humans. Murk's rotting corpse was a perfect testament to that. Food wasn't going to help his situation much.
He briefly considered death here. He almost reached it here before, and it was starting to look like a promising prospect, even without the culture shock. It wasn't like anyone would miss him, he was a non-person. All stalkers were; outcasts of society, whether by choice or by fate, He was probably dying slowly of cancer already. The old men of the zone, people like Yar and Beard, they needed artifacts just to hold their bodies together properly; they deteriorated from the cancers caused by the panoply of radioactive sources in the Zone. It showed. Both were still in their thirties, already worn and world-weary.
Something held it back though, maybe the warm glow of the traitorous sun, the lack of revenge for Murk. What could he do? He was but a man, weak and fragile, ground to dust in the gears of time. Even so, he could still give the proverbial finger to the higher powers that controlled his fate. Go out with a bang.
Renewed with purpose, he continued ever on and on.
Garry woke with a start, breathing in deeply. Everything was black. Gasping air into his aching lungs his hands shot towards his face, searching for his eyes, when a hand swatted them away, holding them down.
”Stop. Do not move.”
“Wh.. why?”
”Do not speak. Listen. You are an intruder. You do not belong here. None of you intruders do. You should have left. The warnings in the past have been ignored. You all should leave as soon as possible.”
“I do... don't think that-”
“You will all leave or we shall hunt you all down and kill every single one of you.”
“My eyes...”
“They will be of no use to you. You are a defiler, a desecrater. You and your kin are beyond forgiveness.”
The hand yanked him upward, pulling against his unwilling body. He tried to stand, but in silent response he was pulled further, dragged along like a doll, his dangling feet scraping against the ground through his shadowy world of nothingness.
==
In front of Hiker stood a village. The village. That place he was so unceremoniously taken at the start of this mess. It was time for them to see the true mean of life. The be all and end all. The inevitability of fate. Death.
He would show them, that he, not they, ruled his fate.
==
“Get up, all of you. I don't care what abominations you all are, or who you are or why you're so important or any other bullshit. I am Kremen, and I am in charge here. With me are Kostyan, Hog and Sickle. I don't mean you any harm, at least not without good reason. Things are in deep shit as you can probably imagine. We are moving out of here now before things get worse.”
The four humanized ponies stood before the four stalker veterans, all clad in exoskeletons, bearing large firearms. Whether they were captors, saviors or guards was a difficult question to answer. Outside the tunnel, in the murk, lay so – called unspeakable horrors. To Rainbow Dash, this claim seemed to be wearing slightly thin.
“Hey, big guy, I'm pretty sure we can look after ourselves, and anyway, what is this 'deep shit' anyway. Sure this place's weird, but it's nothing I couldn't handle. We've got a guide of our own thank you very much, a guy called Garry. I say we're waiting for him here, eh girls.”
Indecision flashed across Twilight and Luna's faces, while Zecora remained as stoic and resolute as always.
“I must say I agree with Dash; to move from here would be rash.”
“Exactly, this tunnel's safe enough, we'll just wait for Garry to return and be done with you people.”
Kremen's booming laugh was distorted by his mask. Reaching up, he unclasped it and took it off, revealing a bald, scarred black man, with a mirthful look in his fierce eyes.
“You can't be serious. You four, survive? If I'd wanted I could be wearing your skin right now, and you wouldn't have been able to do shit about it. Feel free to have a go little rainbow girl, just bear in mind that I could kill you with a single punch to the face.”
“Yeah, well, I...'
“You'd get eaten alive, literally, out there. Sure, Garry knows the Zone like the back of his hand, but that's not gonna help him now, he isn't a fighter. The Zone's changing, more than any of us can comprehend. How long's he been gone?”
“Since around mid-morning maybe,” said Twilight.
“That long? We lost Grizzly and his squad to a controller two days ago; those three were hard stuff, and they didn't stand a chance. He's probably dead already. Trust me; you don't want to be hanging around in the Zone much longer.”
“If you insist. Girls, we know that we are persuaded that this is the best cause of action. Are you?”
“We're with you, Princess.”
==
Hiker strolled at a leisurely pace towards the town in the distance. All he had was a makeshift spear from the woods, and his pocket knife. The town looked positively serene in the early morning light. He'd never seen it like this before, glowing with happiness and harmony. All around his feet flowers were starting to bloom for the day, glistening with dew. The orchard a short way off was covered for acres and acres of bushy apple-trees, all bearing luscious ripe apples, red and juicy.
They would make an excellent final meal. He stepped across the pitifully short fence, and plucked one from a nearby tree. He took a bite of pure ecstasy, sweet and firm. He could practically taste the lack of radiation taint. For a few minutes he just stood there, savouring the taste, letting the sun shine on his back. He wandered along further. How out of was he here? A dark being with vicious intent, come to kill and be killed.
Suddenly, he paused; he heard voices. Crouching by a tree, he scanned for signs of life. Not a soul moved in the serene orchard. Still, the voices were there, boisterous and excited. Moving carefully now, he crept from tree to tree, slowly and silently. The voices went quiet. He turned around sharply. Three small ponies stood at the base of a makeshift ladder, apparently hanging down from tree dwelling. For a fraction of a moment the two parties just stared at each other.
The middle of the three screamed
“Cutie Mark Crusaders Monster Hunters!”
The faces of the other two brightened up considerably. Hiker stood there as they stole furtive glances at him, whispering in hushed tones to each other. Hopefully they weren't being serious. He was three times their height. Whatever they were talking about, it sounded inane, from the few words he caught. He clutched his spear in both hands, feeling it's woody texture.
The three broke out of their huddle. By the look of it two of them were urging on an orange and purple one on a scooter. Donning a helmet, she flapped her tiny wings, propelling herself along towards him. As she gained speed, she jumped, scooter in all, into the air. Time seemed to slow.
She detached from her scooter, continuing on collision course through the air towards Hiker's body. On instinct, he raised the spear ahead of him, pointing at the minuscule threat flying towards him. The small pony adopted some pseudo-karate pose, stretching out one of her lower legs towards him, her forehooves raised above her head. His hands held the spear tightly between him and the pony. Time sped back up.
The high velocity pony zoomed towards Hiker in a flying kick, and suddenly made contact with the spear. The point went straight through the front of her face into the skull, slamming through into the back of the helmet. The sudden weight made the point drop suddenly. The impaled pony slid off the spear with a wet squelch, a hole bored straight through her head, pouring blood onto the pristine grass.
The two others stood there in shock. The white one collapsed, as the yellow one shook involuntarily. Stains of blood and grey matter covered Hiker's hands, and small lumps of flesh still hung in the knots of the wooden spear. He dropped it and ran.
==
The unlikely group of eight advanced through the rapidly deteriorating Zone. The sky rumbled and flashed in the distance, over the murky outline of the NPP. Overhead, the ever-present grey cloud smothered the sky, showering them in light rain. Cold winds blew from the east, knocking the Geiger counter reading up ever so slightly more with each gust. Nothing roamed the wilderness around Yanov now, not even the mutated creatures that filled the dark caverns and foul swamps.
Kremen and Kostyan took point ahead of the rest, carefully leading the group north along the railroad from the tunnel, past rusted carriages and engines. The chilling sighs of the bushes and trees around the railway tracks were the only sound, the stench of the quarry below them to the left the only smell. Barrenness reigned. Dash and Luna stayed in the middle, with Hog. Unlike Kostyan or Kremen’s bright yellow detailing, his armour was covered in grey block patterns, breaking up his outline underneath the exoskeleton’s hydraulics.
“I was a mercenary you know, used to head up a squad south of here, in a place called the Army Warehouses. Nasty place that was, for sure. I met Kostyan there; saved me from the jaws of a bloodsucker. He’s a nice guy, if a bit prickly to outsiders. When Duty and Freedom started to collapse, I headed north with him. Kremen was his friend of his from years back at the start of the Freedom faction, that’s why he called on us for this little mission. The yellow is worn by all of Freedom’s best, not sure why though…”
At the back Twilight lagged behind, unaccustomed to exercise in a foreign body in a foreign land, accompanied by Zecora. Sickle stayed behind them as rearguard, silent as the grave. Even when they were resting together, the three stalkers all sat noticeably further away from him. The only clue to his identity was a strange badge on his shoulder. It was blue, embossed with the shape of a man’s head. All around it swirled trails of particles. On the man’s chest was an eye, open and all-seeing. Below boldly sat the word МОНОЛИT. He wore the same colours as the Giant, the one that Garry killed a few days ago.
As Twilight struggled onwards, Kremen suddenly held up a hand, halting the group. He called the rest forward, to his position. They quickly jogged towards him, as he pulled out his rifle. Some distance ahead, a corpse sat sprawled against a tree, stained with blood. It was the first thing they had seen all day. Kremen and Kostyan slowly walked towards it, with Dash and Luna behind them.
==
Hiker ran, in a state of shock, through the town. Guards were converging on him, the blood-stained beast, the monster, the fiend. He was weak after his journey through the woods. Ahead more armoured ponies were running towards him, brandishing lances. He stumbled to a halt, hacking and coughing. He sunk to his knees, physically and mentally spent. He had killed innocent creatures, sentient beings far more deserving of life than any human. He had killed a child, for heaven’s sake. He’d killed over a dozen other humans, in his time a stalker. He deserved this death, really.
As the guards formed a ring around him, surrounding him with vicious spearheads, a shining white figure, brighter than the sun, flashed into existence before him. As a bolt of the celestial fire struck him, a voice rung out in his head, powerful beyond imagination.
You sicken me. You are a brute, an animal. I hope you realise you are beyond all the forgiveness that harmony and friendship can ever hope to offer. You are nothing to me.
==
As Luna approached the body, she shrieked. It was Garry, and he was still alive. Barely.
His eyes were gone, mere pools of blood, streaming rivers of the fluid down his face and chest. His weak mouth, slowly drowning under the blood seeping into it, opened.
“It's coming for you... a trap... run...”
He choked, coughing up more congealed blood, slumping forwards. Kremen and Kostyan were both on full alert now, guns raised, as something huge and dark materialized out of thin air behind Rainbow Dash. The four all wheeled toward it, Kremen and Kostyan opened fire without hesitation, spraying lead into it.
Shrugging off the gunfire, it clasped Rainbow's head in its hands with inhuman speed, lifting her up screaming into the air. In the momentary pause as the men stopped firing, fearing collateral damage, it unleashed it's ghastly maw, taking a bite directly out of Rainbow's skull, shattering it like an egg. Luna screamed once again, paralyzed with fear.
Dropping the corpse, it swept like a storm into Kostyan, knocking him to the floor. The other stalkers in the distance were firing now too. In a flurry of blows it shredded the front of his chest and face, ripping and tearing. Kremen kept firing in vain. He knew he was completely and utterly fucked. The monster rose up, impervious to the hail of bullets.
It almost sauntered towards the big man, taunting his helplessness. Batting his gun away, it's clawed hand dove into his chest, impaling him. His gasps and screams cut off as it pulled his bloody heart from the gaping hole in his torso. It turned to face Luna. It's eyes were like white dots in a black hole, devoid of all life and emotion; it's semi-corporeal form shifting and coalescing under the showers of blood.
It thrust it's hands into Luna. She went cold. The pain seemed as if it was miles away, a distant though. She felt a wellspring of immense power erupt in her, flowing through her. In a flash, it released her into oblivion.
==
From where the others stood, an explosion of dark blue fire flashed into existence, swirling and flowing into a dark portal. Lightning bursts illuminated the sky. Of Luna and the beast, there was no sign. Just the bodies....
End of Part 1: No Turning Back…
Some years later
Yar lay in his hospital bed. These were his last hours. The pain in his bones was everywhere now, the cancer constricting him from within. He barely registered the din of the ward in the background, the sounds of other patients, the words of the nurses, the words on TV. He remembered his best years, the years of his prime, hunting in the Zone...
Something on the TV stood out. He strained his dying ears.
“...first discovered fleeing the Zone, are now in an unprecedented event in our history, the first meeting between humans and this sentient species. It is taking place at the UN headquarters in...”
It was the end of an era, and the start of a new age. Humans and these ponies? What did he care, it wasn't his problem. He'd got everything he valued from the Zone, and now it was his time to give back. He smiled.
A man clad entirely in a black bodysuit entered the room. Both the room and the man had a harsh, spartan appearance. The room was windowless, lit only by aging halogen tubes, illuminating a map table, strewn with dossiers. Around the table sat a number of men, all smartly dressed in sharp suits and expensive watches, giving off the air of high-flying businessmen or rich politicians. The one at the head stubbed out the smoking cigarette he was holding, folding his arms with a look of distaste and contempt on his face. The rest had a mixture of shock, fear or suspicion on their faces.
The man was bald and cleanly shaven, with a sharp, piercing jawline and grey, icy eyes. Tall and thin, the dark bodysuit hugged him like a glove, covered in Kevlar plates and assorted webbing. On his chest, a small, worn patch stood out, a black radiation warning symbol on a yellow background. Below it was the word СТРЕЛОЛК. He looked over the other men in the room and took a seat at the table. Behind him a soldier walked in, in full special-forces CBRN uniform, bearing the stripes of a commander. He shut the heavy iron door behind him, and took his place. The one at the head, lighting up another cigarette, leant forwards.
“Let us begin.”
<=>
“First, the facts we know. One; the Zone is in a state of total upheaval and collapse. Reports show large increases in mutant aggression, to such an extent the men fear to leave base. Two; it is unviable to keep our forces inside the Zone, the level of danger is too high. Three; stalkers and mutants are fleeing the Zone in droves, as more and more vanish every day to the shifting conditions. Stalker numbers are almost a fifth of that before Fairway.
However, as all this is happening, other less certain events are occurring. Rumours are spreading of a great terror hunting down stalkers in the northern reaches, to such an extent that our sources tell us there has been no contact made with anyone north of the abandoned army base for two weeks. More rumours are spreading about a variety of strange creatures appearing in the aftermath of emissions, supposedly brightly coloured, possibly capable of flight.
To put it bluntly gentlemen, things are about to get very, very nasty around the exclusion Zone and I think we can all agree that it is of utmost necessity to find a way to stop whatever is brewing in that shithole before it explodes in our faces. To that end, our two experts here will lead the investigation on the ground. Needless to say, this is all hush-hush.”
The man with the cigarette pushed the dossiers towards the two out of place men.
“As requested, files with information on anyone that could be of useful to you. Not easy to acquire, with your refusal to take anyone not a stalker.” He smirked.
Sifting through the files, the man in military uniform looked up at him.
“Why so few? Is this all we have to go from, eight men?”
The man in the black bodysuit looked sour as he replied:
“What were you expecting Alexander? Most of them are dead or gone. All your buddies up north are almost certainly dead, and just how many of the old masters and veterans are there left? Garry, Yar, Zulu, Murk, Gavrilenko, Leshiy and Kremen were all up there when things got bad. Father Diodor and Master died years back. The only one of the old guard left is Scarecrow, and he lives deep in the Wild Territories.”
The suited man interjected, “As I said, why chose those scumbags. I have strings inside the FSB, I can get you a top squad. They won’t shoot you in the back like the dogs you associate with. It better be worth it, though.”
“No, as I said, stalkers only. I don’t care for you stupid secret service goons, I need men that know the Zone. I’ll deal with their loyalty.”
“Who then? Who can we contact?”
“We link up with Strider first.”
He opened up a folder, thinner than the rest, revealing a hazy picture of a man clad in urban camouflage fatigues and green Kevlar. A long rifle was slung over his shoulder.
“He and his group will know what this is, if anyone does. After him, to the Barkeep.
This time, he selected by far the thickest of the files, headed with a picture of a fat, balding man reclining behind his bar.
“Then we go east, find Scarecrow and Krulgrov, who apparently went stalker according to these documents. From there, north to the Barrier. Hopefully Cap or one of the other freedom veterans like Kostyan or Max will know something. If they're still alive, that is. I'll need plenty of funds for kit for anyone that joins us, along with whatever resources the military have left there.”
“50000, max. All that black market shit is cheap in the Zone.”
“125k.”
“80.”
“100.”
“Ugh, deal. Just get out of my face.”
The stalker and the soldier stood up to leave.
“Don’t bother to show your face if shit gets bad, ok, or we’ll shoot you like the rest.”
“You need me; don’t pretend you don’t know that. The Zone is alive, expanding, and at this moment it will seek to destroy anything that encroaches upon it. Me most of all. You'll be seeing the news of the Zone going rampant if this isn't done, and I'm the only one who has any idea what needs doing.”
Central Ukraine, just inside the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone
Through breaks in the trees, the thin spire of the NPP was visible. The last hour, through the beginning of the exclusion zone, was a different sight to how it had looked mere months ago. All along the wooded, winding road, stalker and military camps were set up; ramshackle, their residents looking tired and fearful. As they had driven by, neither a single folk song sung by some musical stalker, nor the tradition rowdiness of the army grunts graced their ears.
The fact they were set up together, and not engaged in a firefight was a particular novelty. The thing other than fear they had in common was their direction, opposite to that of the two in the Jeep. They were fleeing the Zone. It was clear in their eyes. The Jeep's destination: the Cordon. The entrance to ‘the Zone proper’, it was a renowned place of relative safety for rookie stalkers, the location of the legendary Sidorovich, and the hub the loner stalkers came together to rest and restock. Now it seemed to be a refugee camp. Ahead, the group of low brick buildings on either side of the cracked road signalled journey’s end. They had reached the military checkpoint, the southern tip of the Zone.
Strelok and Degtayrev climbed out of the old military jeep they’d been travelling in for the last few days, taking in the sights and smells of the most dangerous place on the planet. In the back was an assortment of military survival kit and scavenged gear, almost enough to stock an army surplus store. It would probably all be needed for the Zone, though. To Strelok, it was home: the withered trees, the grey cloud, the fractured concrete, the state of perpetual decay.
Walking to the command hut, they garnered more than a few stares from the soldiers on watch, a tall man in full military stalker gear and a stalker in a sheer black SEVA suit, curtain hood up, with a sleek, silenced AK74 slung over one shoulder. They entered. The major behind the desk inside leapt up, practically running to meet them.
“Shit, that you Alexander? What the hell have you been up to since Fairway? It’s good to see you alive and well.”
The military stalker embraced the surprised officer.
“Good to see you to, Tarasov. We’re here on official business.”
He produced a sheaf of papers, handing them over. As he leafed through, Tarasov’s brow furrowed more and more.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re headed into the Zone to find out what pissed it off and I’m meant to give you whatever you need for the job?”
Degtayrev nodded.
“Let me just explain the situation to you in detail. I think you might be underestimating the state of things here just a little. Take a seat, you might need it. Oh, and no need for the hood Strelok. We’re safe here, hopefully.”
==
“First things first, the Zone is in so much trouble you wouldn’t believe it unless you saw it. Let me put in perspective, compared to the rest of the Zone, the Cordon is just as safe as ever. Thing is though, we have a barricade of trains, cars, crates, machinery and whatever junk we can find 10 feet high running along the whole length of the railway across the Cordon, and a fort inside the old cement works, manned by a team of sentries day and night. Every few hours, mutants come rushing towards it, kicking up a fuss, trying to break through and pull down our guys both stalker and military. Not just any mutants, there are snorks and bloodsuckers out in those woods now; we even get zombies occasionally. Any party that leaves the safety of the southern Cordon will barely make it to the checkpoint on the way to the garbage.
We have it easy. The few messages we've had from Rostok city in the north say that Duty and the stalkers up there are in an all-out war for survival just to keep the monsters at bay, with upwards of 50 zombified plus other snorks, fleshes and boars attacking every day. We got a broadcast from Freedom a few weeks ago, they're in pretty much the same situation, but low on men and ammo.
I don't think we've had a single report of stalkers alive anywhere but here or with those two factions. The Zone is fucked at the moment, as you can see I've started an evacuation effort but this place will get overrun without all these men to defend it. Your mission is suicide, even for you two.”
“Seriously? Surely there's more than just that. You can't just wipe out the majority of the stalker population in a matter of weeks, even with the turmoil.”
“Back when you were a military stalker, Degtayrev, maybe, but numbers were dropping before this anyway. It seems like the message that this place isn't nice reached the outside world at the same time a lot of the experienced guys gained a sense of self preservation. Now whole tracts of the Zone are uninhabited by humans, desolate of mutants too now that their food source left.”
A silence fell over the three of them. Outside, the cool evening air blew in through the shoddy patchwork of glass in the window. The light was fading; the few shadows cast by the murky sky were long along the ground. Strelok, previously silent in thought, looked up at the other two.
“Tarasov, you ever heard of Strider?”
'Yeah, vaguely, some small faction leader or something wasn't he?”
“Was?”
“Last I heard he was up in the Yantar area, and that was just before this shit-storm broke. The chances of him or his guys being alive are pretty slim.”
“True, maybe. You said that most of the Zone's deserted now?”
“Yeah?”
“Get out your map, I've got the beginnings of a plan.”
Tarasov unwrapped his moth-bitten map of the exclusion zone, spreading it wide across the table, knocking shot glasses and rifle mags out of the way.
“According to Guide, there was a tunnel through the hills just up to the west of here, leading to the Swamps.”
“That thing? I thought it was blocked, we've had mutants come from every direction but there?”
“Did you ever check?”
“No, not really, they stretch for miles without lights. I'm not risking my boys in that.”
“Assuming it's open, we head through there. Guide said the swamps were barren, never even settled by stalkers from what he saw of them. I'm guessing there are barely any mutants there either. From there, we make our way up through the swamps, over the railway to the north towards Agroprom. From what you say, that'll likely be deserted too, stalkers left there after the Spetznaz moved in to clear them out. We can continue north through there, all the way to the Yantar. Hopefully, we'll find Strider there, maybe Kulgrov as well.”
“Do you really expect them to be alive that much? I wouldn't bet more than a ruble on it.”
“No offence to you or your men, Tarasov, but Strider and his squad are probably better fighters than all your army of rookie stalkers and green as grass soldiers combined. If anyone is left alive in the Zone, it'd be them. Even if they aren't there, we need to head north. I think we all know that the root of this problem is that way.”
“You're right about that, without a doubt. I know it's a lot to ask, but can we please take some of that pile of kit you bought. You'll need to travel light to stay ahead of the Zone's menaces, and all we have is scavenged rubbish. There hasn't been a supply truck in months.
“Fair enough, but make sure to put a good word in with barkeep if you get a message to him.”
“Thanks man, I'll set you up with quarters for the night.”
==
Pripyat City
Yar looked over his handiwork, impressed, despite the rough and ready nature of the job, and the shoddy materials. Still, it was the first of its kind he'd done extensive work on. Not every day did one get the opportunity to work on a whole building?
Living in Pripyat was strange nowadays. With the emissions happening every few hours now, all the mutants and Monolithians had fled, leaving behind the ghost city unperturbed as before. With not much else to do but scavenge supplies, he'd tinkered here and there, blocking off lower windows, creating a dedicated store-room, even shifting a ratty old bed from the department store to the south all the way up over a few days. With the capacitative cable system he had set up all over the roof leeching power from electro anomalies, basic lighting was now up and running. Still, he'd been alone for weeks now. At least he didn't talk to himself. Much. Yet.
=
“Sure you won't stay longer? The rookies could do with learning from a truly experienced stalker.”
“We can't Major, this crisis needs to be ended, and sitting in safety isn't the answer.”
“Well, make sure you come back in one piece, enough of the best have died already.”
Looking back at the middle-aged soldier standing on the watch-tower, Strelok lead Degtayrev up the hill west of the base, strewn with boulders and fallen trees. Visible in the distance above was an overgrown concrete opening, the way to the swamps. As they approached the entrance, a feeling of foreboding overtook him. Pitch black darkness loomed inside; the floor of the tunnel was littered with all sorts of assorted debris and junk, even a few rusted trucks could be seen in the darkness.
“Remember. The Zone is different now, who knows what's down there, stay alert. It's roughly 4 kilometers to the exit to the swamps according to the map.”
“If I didn't know better, I would say doing something like this would be certain death Strelok”
“What is it then?”
“Almost certain death.”
Strelok looked at him with a reproachful look.
“Stop being such a girl, Alex. I'm sure the bloodsuckers are as afraid of you as you are of them.”
He promptly walked into the tunnel, disappearing into the darkness.
“Bitch”
The military man jogged after him.
==
Some hours later
Strelok held up a fist, stopping dead. Degtayrev paused behind him. The way ahead was blocked completely by a military flatbed truck jack-knifed across the whole tunnel.
“What are-'
Strelok swiftly held up a finger in a 'shush' gesture, and cupped his hand by the side of his head. As Degtayrev's ears accustomed to the silence, a low rustle became ever more audible. He looked back at Strelok. He shrugged, pulling a knife and a PSO scope from pouches at his hips. Approaching the upturned bed of the truck, he jabbed the blade between two rotten boards, and slowly twisted, forcing them apart until he could fit the scope through.
Degtayrev waited, time slowing from the numbing quiet and cold of the underground. Eventually Strelok stepped back, motioning him to have a look through. Removing his helmet, he pressed his eye to the lens.
Ahead of the truck in the tunnel lay a small recess, a rest stop midway by the looks of it, lit by the flashes of a lone electro anomaly. To the side of it lay a skeleton, dressed in strange blue flecktan fatigues, the bones of his lifeless hand still wrapped around the trigger of off his rifle. Lying next to it was a lone snork, thin beyond belief, crawling around helplessly. A dark doorway was visible next to it. Apart from the quiet laboured breathing of the snork, all was silent.
Strelok carefully cut the spyhole wider and took aim with his silenced AK74, letting out a burst of muffled shots, tearing through the dying snork. It lay lifeless and crumpled, surrounded by flecks of brown-red blood. Everything was still. Nothing burst out from the dark corners or the doorway. Pulling the barrel of his gun back out from the small hole in the back of the upturned truck, he quietly walked towards the cab end, hauling himself up to the small gap between the truck and the ceiling. He squeezed through gently, dragging his rucksack down behind him.
As Degtayrev did the same, he wandered over to the skeleton, digging through it's pockets, pulling out empty mags and half-used first aid supplies. As Alex arrived next to him, he asked, “You ever seen these colours before Strelok? They don't belong to any faction, I swear.”
“They.... look familiar, and they certainly belong to a faction, but... there almost seems to be a dark cloud over my memory, There must have been a badge somewhere, but with all these rips and tears, who knows. Part of me screams at it being important, but the rest just dismisses it as another dead- aha!”
As he was speaking, he slipped a slim PDA from a small opening in the side of the Kevlar chest plate it was wearing, and slipped it into his pocket.
“Before we go, since we're not coming back. Sometimes you find amazing things in the undiscovered corners of the Zone.”
He strode over to the dark doorway in the side of the recess that the lone stalker was presumably guarding, raising his machine gun. Degtayrev watched as he stepped inside. With barely a sound, he was suddenly thrust upwards back out of the room, suspended in the air as if by an invisible string, his arms clawing at the air in front of him. As Strelok grunted in pain, the bloodsucker materialized, pulling him in closer to it's outstretched maw.
In a flash, Degtayrev ripped his handgun from it's holster, putting a bullet into the bloodsucker's skull, blasting it lifeless to the ground. Strelok fell next to it, scrambling for his AK as another rushed through the doorway. Degtayrev emptied more rounds into it's back, punching bloody holes in it's torso until he felt it click empty. As he reached for his rifle, Strelok sprayed the third with submachine gun fire, hitting it square on as it leapt at him, it's corpse landing on him. Degtayrev stood there, Abakan poised to fire, waiting for another. None came.
“Get this thing off me will you. It fucking stinks.”
Wordlessly they grabbed their kit and jogged deeper into the tunnel, leaving the blue-clad stalker to his mysteries, weapons very firmly in hand now. Behind them their shadows writhed and contorted in the chaotic light of the distant electro anomaly.
==
Yar was stumped. All the Monolithians had vanished. Not just from central Pripyat; that had happened a while ago, but as the weeks went by and the situation deteriorated more and more, even the strange radio signals channelled by their pylons of trash had gotten weaker and eventually stopped altogether. Over the last few days he had plucked up the courage and visited what was their headquarters: the Pripyat theatre.
On the back wall of the stage, now smeared and barely legible words of blood over a meter tall read “Because it wills it” Underneath, in much clearer white paint someone had written “WE ARE ALONE! IT HAS ABANDONED US! WE ARE FORESAKEN!” The odd discoveries did not end there. In the rooms underneath, presumably their command bunker, a single sheet of paper was left on a desk, quite clearly written in sporadic bursts, the age and colour of each sentence different to the next.
Not stopping to read it, he carefully stowed it inside his sack and moved on. Then, a whole storeroom, full of spare ammunition and explosives. Things were still stowed neatly. Another note, much shorter than the other simply read: “To any brother reading this; take what you need and leave. there is no place for us here any longer.” Stocking up on sniper rounds, he left. The rest of the building was empty.
Trudging back through Pripyat, he kept his SVD loaded, in hand. Only twice in the last month had he seen mutants here. Once was a swarm of Tushanka, more than a hundred strong, fleeing southwards, presumably from the NPP. The other was what scared him. During one night the previous week, he had stayed up staring out the window of his top-storey barricaded safehouse. Looking down with a night-vision scope through the streets, he spotted movement. A huge, malformed creature strode through the central plaza, walking on two feet, almost 10 feet tall, vaguely resembling a bloodsucker. Zooming in further, he nearly retched. Spined protrusions jutted from it's back and shoulders, bloody and serrated. Most horribly, it clothed itself in the skins of men; faces stared out from it's body, ripped and torn. He had dubbed it the Headtaker after that.
Leaving such nasty thoughts behind, he clambered through the crumbling building that housed his safe-house, avoiding the complex traps he'd set up on every floor. By the time he reached home, the orange glow of the setting sun poured through his windows. Shutting the curtains and turning on a small lamp, he extracted the note he'd found.
It has stopped. It will not answer our prayers. This has never happened, not since I woke up to it's light. Why does it leave us afraid and helpless so? We are but young and willing acolytes, needing the tender guiding of a shepherd. Why did it forsake us. Does it seek to punish us? Every day it vents more and more anger and displeasure. Did we stray from it's guiding path of light? Did the infidels cause harm to it's glorious wonder? It twinkles to me, like the light of a little star, dying, dimming, decaying. Why do you dim little star. WHY? ARE WE NOT WORTHY OF YOUR BENEVOLENT LIGHT ANY LONGER? Something else calls to me now, something from before my waking. It is safety, a place untouched by the poisonous clutches of both the infidels and our monolith. Somewhere forgotten in time. More and more brothers are falling back into their sleep, returning to the darkness. Do I, Charon, lead us, what is left of us, away from it's light. Dare I? I fear I must. It is turning on us. Betraying us. Once we were all in darkness, a time before this glorious brotherhood saw the light. This is the first step to turning our backs to it. Perhaps our destination is a symbol. A symbol that we can be changed. Maybe even be healed. Monolith forgive me.
The Skadovsk was a blinking firefly of light in the wet darkness of the swamps of Zaton. It's orange glow flickered and danced like a candle's, lighting up the gray, drizzling darkness of the rainy night. Unlike a candle's glow, it was not a thin tongue, but small flashes, sporadic and moving position. A quiet metallic cacophony was audible from even this distance. “Thank god we got out in time” thought Hog. The same thought was probably circulating throughout the rest of the small group with him. Looking through his binoculars, he could vaguely make out the half-dozen shapes causing the flashes running around atop the beached ship.
=
One of the figures standing on the Skadovsk looked back at the barely visible shape of the group of refugees. He remained expressionless. He didn't care that they were running away. He didn't care about anything much these days. The abrupt end to the recoil of the Sig 550 in his large gloved hands brought his mind back to the situation. With the precision and efficiency of a machine he pulled the mag from it's slot, flipped it deftly in his hand, and inserted the next one taped to the side. He opened fire once more on the ravenous hordes below him baying for his blood.
A handful of magazines later, the roaring symphony of destruction changed in pitch. A screaming stalker four feet from him writhed on the floor underneath a bloody snork digging into his neck. He turned and blasted them both into shreds, and retreated backwards up the rusty stairs onto the roof of the bridge. The disgusting things followed him, always cut down by tight bursts, severing limbs or shattering chests. The trail of corpses was feet high. Two other men were here, probably the only other two left. One was a tall stalker, Spartacus, letting off a syncopated staccato chatter from the double taps of his AN94. The other was pivoting on a bloody leg, held together with a splint. It was Beard. He twisted and turned, blowing leaping snorks from the air with his SPAS 12.
In a triangle they stood, raining lead on the mutants coming up from the bowels of the ship below them, swarming in over the sides of the hull. It felt so simple to him, just to be stood there, almost motionless, amid the chaos and blood and death, calm and composed. All he had to do was point, and pull the trigger, and relax into the moment.
Something collided with his back, staggering him from his focus. Spartacus had dropped his rifle in the pile of empty mags by his feet, and was taking wild shots with his pistol, unable to stem the horde.
Slamming his mailed fist into the face of the wounded bloodsucker clawing at him, he watched as the stalker deftly leapt from the top of the ship onto the deck, scrambling past dogs and fleshes, sprinting for the edge of the ship. He made it, just, and flung himself from the side. Beard was surrounded too now, still letting off blasts from his shotgun. He left him to his work and turned back to the stairs he was covering. The mutants were having a hard time climbing over the piles of bodies, slipping and sliding and screaming and growling and being shot into little pieces.
The rain was pouring down now, seeping through his thick outer layers. The cold clamminess didn't bother him. He heard the retorts of the shotgun stop.
Time to leave. Dropping a handful of primed grenades into the stairwell, he turned to Beard, now with bloodsuckers all around him, tentacles out. By the time they had latched on to his neck, bullets had found their way into the old man's skull. He had no obligations now. Everyone was dead. The rest had escaped into the night. Job done.
Pulling out a shot of adrenaline, he gasped as the needle shot the fluid into his veins. He drew his signature weapons. In his right hand, a Glock machine pistol. In his left, a wickedly sharp sickle. Charging like a bull, hacking and slashing and shooting and clawing and shoving he fought his way free, a mountain of metal and brown Kevlar, covered in dirt and blood and gore. It would take more than this to kill Sickle.
=
Present Day
Strelok and Degtayrev looked out over the dusk in the swamps. Ahead, as far as the eye could see, dusty grassland gave way to huge beds of reeds, criss-crossed with worn paths. Every so often, ruined buildings jutted out from the murky swampland. A bed of graveyard mist was slowly forming over the damp pools in the distance, slowly drifting south away from the large storm system to the north that obscured the orange glows both of sunset, and the murky red clouds over the block of the NPP far away.
“Are we going to find somewhere to rest or what? It's late Strelok, and I don't particularly feel like doing an all-nighter after that tunnel.”
The other stalker remained silent, scanning with his binoculars.
“There, see that machine shop over there? We'll leave there in four hours and continue. Can't afford to linger.”
==
“Soldiers, you know the stories of what awaits us. You have all been briefed will the most up to date knowledge the Princesses can provide us. You know the mission Most importantly, you ARE Equestria's best. I have complete faith in every one of you. Together, we will go in there, and we WILL prosper. Are you with me?”
“AYE COMMANDER BATTLE BORN”
“FOR EQUESTRIA!”
=
Max looked out from his sniper hide, covered from by branches and camo netting. In the distance, mutant packs circled the concrete slabs, baying and screeching. The base was audible, if not visible, as the klaxon sounding an attack whined softly in the background. From here those slabs almost resemble a stone circle, as if the Zone left them left them jutting and leaning on each other like that, he mused
It was a boring watch for Freedom's master sniper, observing viable targets all day and barely being able to take a shot. As the hours passed, mutants came and went, fleshes and dogs and snorks and boars, all going crazy and kicking up a fuss. It's worse than a fucking occupy protest, they're dirtier, louder, smellier, more dangerous, more annoying and so much more bloody effective. They've had us holed up for over a week now.
As his mind wandered, a Burer came into sight, hunched and shuffling. A prime target. Almost absentmindedly Max took aim and let off a shot, blasting it's remains across the countryside. Well, I couldn't do that back in the day. The good old SVU was better, but really, what beats a Gauss gun eh?. The blue flash had set the mutants off again, causing them to riot like before. He sighed.
He was the probably the only person in the Zone with a Gauss gun, at least in the known areas. He was one of the best snipers too. There wasn't anyone else in Freedom that could do this, realistically. He was stuck on this post from now till eternity. Slumping down in his makeshift hut of leaves, he dozed, watching the goings-on in the distance with bleary eyes.
=
Battle Born and his century of Elite Guards charged through the portal, spears raised to meet upcoming threats. As the blue, swirling sheet of magical energy enveloped them, they vanished from sight and sound.
=
Max shot into alertness. Bright blue flashes, dazzling and searing his retinas burst into existence on the hills above the mutants. Turning away in shock, he rubbed the bright afterimages like fireworks from his eyes, Taking a careful look, he was dazzled again, as more and more burst out, silhouetting strange shapes emerging from them. The fuck?
As the light show faded away, what looked like horde of oddly shaped mutants ran in rows down the hill, into the fleshes and boars at the bottom, inside the concrete ring. With amazement he stared as they clashed in the distance, flailing and striking each other, a look of sheer puzzlement on his face. As the new mutants began to win over, something struck him: they weren't a disorganised bestial rabble; they moved with purpose, lashing out with sticks, helping each other. He grabbed his rifle, and aimed through the scope.
They wore armour, medieval armour; they were carrying forged spears, not sticks; they appeared to be shouting at each other, as one in gold plating at the front seemed to shout orders; they even had what were unmistakably gas masks attached to their sides. They looked like an army of fucking horses from the dark ages.
Max dropped his rifle, and sprinted to the radio in his kitbag.
“This is Max, we have a mutant army out here, armed and dangerous. I repeat, an actual mutant army, with spears and armour and whatever other devilry. I have no idea where they are headed, but they are definitely intelligent and able to communicate. They look a bit like horses, with metal plate armour and spears, held by levitation like a Burer's.”
”Say what Max? Did I hear you right? An army? Horses?”
“That’s right, and they just took out half of our mutant problems. Looked like they took quite a few casualties, plenty of wounded.”
There was a short pause of static.
”Get back to base immediately, it's getting dark and I need the whole story on this. Lukash out.”
=
It was a bright night at least, the swamps basked in the pleasant silver shine of the full moon above. The two stalkers trekked through it's damp paths, winding and twisting between irradiated pools. Each footstep led them deeper and deeper into the maze. Sometimes there were rotting wooden bridges over crossings, but half had fallen into the water already.
“Strelok, you said that Guide told you this place was deserted?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Then how come there are bridges and old campfires in all the ruined settlements we've passed?”
“He said that he thought the place was never settled, but I'm guessing he didn't try too hard to find out. This place is a dump. Whoever lived here obviously died a long time ago. They won't bother us now.”
In the distance the land rose up out of the water, peaking at a railway embankment. On the ridge, a dilapidated train lay wrecked on the rusted lines. Strelok pointed at it.
“See that? That's the edge of this place. Whatever secrets this dark place holds, it can keep them. Our mission is too important.”
=
Commander Battle Born sat shocked on the cold earth, surrounded by corpses of both ponies and mutants. Blood pooled and trickled from all of them. Spears and helmets lay scattered everywhere. Some of his guards still combed the area, looking for survivors. At least half of his century had died, and he had maybe fifteen wounded. Things weren't looking good for him. He stood, looking over the survivors.
“Soldiers collect any wounded and rally on me. It is time to move.
There is no shelter in the nearby area, and as we have seen this is not a forbidding place. You have done Equestria proud in your efforts, and it is fitting for most of you to return to safety. I will open up the portal for you to transport the wounded through, and report back to General Armour. All I ask is that a handful of you stay here, with me, to continue to scout the area and locate a safe forward base for the regular military.”
More than half of the standing ponies lifted hooves, even some of the injured. He assessed them; half had bags under their eyes from the alien darkness, others were shocked or exhausted. Selecting the least worn down, he drew in a deep breath, exhaling as he felt his magic channel up through his horn, flowing into the air around him. The blue portal cascaded down through the air like a sheet, casting off an ethereal glow.
The majority headed for it, supporting wounded comrades or carrying the dead. Battle Born watched it with impassion. Far, far too many had died today. It was like an exodus, and more than one trip was needed to carry everything unneeded back. Eventually, only the half dozen he'd picked remained, standing resolute among the carnage. With a groan he let the spell dissipate.
“I'm not going to lie to you, things here are far worse than we'd imagined. You probably realize that already. We have a duty to the Princesses to finish what we came for. Once we've got shelter, I'll tell you why we're here.”
=
Strelok pushed through the reed-beds, as he had done constantly for the last hour. They were seemingly endless, twisting and turning. The railway line far away looked no nearer than an this morning. Every sight was always the same, the mottled brown earth and reeds. So was the smell. The depths stank of rotten matter and shit. As the end of this particular thicket led towards a brick chimney, he wasn't quite as bemused with the situation as normal.
Brushing past the last of the reeds, with Degtayrev close behind, he emerged to the burnt out shell of a building, smashed and raised to the ground. The only feature worth noting was the corpse kneeling face-down against the wall. Like the body from the tunnel, it wore flecktan blue camouflage and a bulletproof vest, scuffed and dirty, ripped in places. But not old. The flesh was still there, by the look of the gloved hands. A helmet hid the rest of the head.
Strelok looked away and took in the sights as Degtayrev went to loot the body. Trying not to absorb the wretched smell, he wandered around the small sapling sprouting from the rubble of the little building, just like so many other structures in the Zone being reclaimed by Mother Nature. It brought back faint memories, of years previously, an old man warning him, always not to go north, an artifact, a photo: Chernobyl. Doctor had said... yes, that was the old hunter's name... it would be the end of him.
Well, it had been, hadn't it?
Not much of the ambitious talented stalker had left in that death truck. The Zone had stolen his very soul. Sometimes he just felt like a shell of bitterness and hate...
A low groan brought his mind back to the present, swiftly followed by a gunshot. Crows flew out from the reeds all around. A murder of crows. Degtayrev ran out a few seconds later.
“The fucker was a sleeping zombie; I just put him out of his misery.”
Strelok looked back at the circling birds as Alexander went back to scavenging. He didn't believe in bad omens. Carrion birds were the only ones that survived in the Zone. They just flew overhead and screamed and squarked and crowed.
“Waaak raven, waaak raven, circling above the grave.” He mused
They still flew, kicking up a fuss, refusing to land. The reeds swayed gently in the wind, echoing the harsh calls with their soft whisper.
Strelok was still lost in thought as the first one emerged from the misty swamps, murmuring and groaning. Alex saw it first, shooting through the forehead with his handgun like the previous zombie. His mind quickly jumped into gear as a second zombie shambled out from the reeds, brandishing a shotgun. Leaping forward, he knocked the gun from it's hands, shoving it backwards until it received a knife to the jugular. Before it had hit the ground, another pair had arrived, more alert than the previous one.
“We're surrounded, they're everywhere! Run!”
Degtayrev's shouts and gunshots started the adrenaline rush. Zombified were coming in ever greater numbers into the clearing, brought by the sounds of combat. Clicking off the safety of his AK, he opened fire on the nearest, dropping them like pop-up targets on a range, blasting heads from shoulders and radiation--addled brains from skulls. He saw his friend gesticulate, then sprint into the cover of the rubble to avoid the wild gunfire of the zombies errupting on the other side of the building.
Retreating inside, he swore. They were truly everywhere, closing in like a noose. He saw Degtayrev applying a bandage to a bleeding arm with gritted teeth.
“Bastards shot me, nothing I can't handle.”
Strelok popped his body back out from the ruins, dropping more of the zombies during their temporary confusion over the disappearance of their prey. Gunshots answered his own, ricocheting and glancing off of brickwork and burying through rotten wooded beams. He ducked back down, fumbling with a grenade, tossing it out behind him. The bone-shaking thump shook clouds of dust up around him, as a stray limb, severed from it's owner, impacted onto the wall beside him. Degtayrev was hunched down too, holding a bleeding arm tight to his chest and firing his handgun one-handed through a gap in the bricks.
They shared a look. Looking back over, more zombies were approaching from the south west, more than before. They were slowly homing in on the pair's hiding spot. Strelok held up three fingers as he detached his silencer and fitted a new, enlarged magazine. He dropped one, tensing his legs. He dropped another, pulling down his visor over his face. He lowered the final finger.
With a roar, he vaulted the wall in one swift motion, swing his legs over into an approaching zombie's chest, knocking it down. He emptied his magazine into the nearest targets before the horde could react, staggering them with bullet impacts. Over a hundred were there, gormless anger on their faces. The crows ahead were screaming a cacophony in accompaniment to their groans. Flinging away his rifle, he sprinted into the opening in the reeds behind Alexander as shots whistled past his ears. Hunched, unable to see for muddy water and reeds, he ran blind, twisting and turning. A stray bullet slammed into his back, knocking him to his hands and knees.
Splashing in the water, he scrambled to his feet, clawing at the air, stumbling back to his feet. Each frantic step was agony, the wet burning of the wound in his back wrenching his muscles. His heart hammered in his chest. He ran, and ran, and kept on running, even when the edges of his vision started to blur.
Hog knew his group was a rag-tag bunch. Not one was a capable fighter. They had all died on the Skadovsk. What he did have however were the VIPs of the northern zone, those too valuable to leave to be eaten alive. Nimble, Cardan and Nitro he got on with best. Those three were inseparable now, all obsessed with the trade in rare custom kit that they were lynchpins of. Thanks to Nitro, his Sig 550 actually hit where the sights pointed, more often than not, and sported a bulky underslung grenade launcher.
Owl and Pilot both preferred solitude, keeping themselves to themselves. Pilot he didn't mind; when he wasn't truculent, he gave directions and got them round the multitude of anomaly fields faster than any of them could. Owl on the other hand was the nastiest piece of work he'd ever met. The scumbag would happily slit someone's throat if it kept his ever-precious secrets He had half a mind to abandon all his discipline and shoot him on the spot.
The girls though, they were the ones he had to look out for. The black one, called some strange unpronounceable foreign name, had a level head on her, always erring on the side of caution and slowly learning the unwritten rules that meant life or death in the zone. The purple one with the horn, Twilight, wasn't coping quite so well. She had a blank stare, and had asked fewer and fewer questions after she'd realised that they'd left a dozen people to die horribly just so they themselves could escape.
On the horizon, a red sun blinked above the hills, as golden sunlight crept across the land. An amazingly beautiful dawn, if he ever saw one. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and basked in the clear sunshine. The gods must be smiling upon them, a day clear of the emission clouds. He smiled for the first time in over a month.
=
Present Day
“So, my few stallions left, it falls to us to carry out the Princess' instructions. Her orders were to scout this world to find to hopefully find the bearers and find any way to prevent the aliens gaining access to any portals that might form naturally in this strange place.
Any of these 'humans' finding their way into Equestria would be disastrous, so as far as I can tell the long term plan is to make sure that that cannot happen, whether through diplomacy or not, I don't know. Apparently we cannot rely on hoping our presence being overlooked, even if we tried to conceal it.
To be honest with you, given her limited instructions, I think we're here on damage control rather than any hope of success.”
=
Strelok emerged onto the railway bank exhausted and tattered in mind and body. He'd not had any sign of Degtayrev since the attack, about an hour ago, and storm clouds were starting to rumble in on the horizon ahead of him, collecting in the natural bowl of hills around the Agroprom Research Institute. Looking back at the swamps, the ruined homestead still swarmed with zombies, though the telltale shaking of reeds was heading ever further north towards him.
Heading up the railway itself, he dug through his bag and produced a spray can. Shaking it loudly, he carefully spelled out his message in large yellow letters on the side of the nearest train car: “GONE NORTH. SEE YOU AT YANTAR BUNKER. S”. Dropping the can back into it's place, he walked along to the large gap between carriages, his PDA showing a Stash location. Looking underneath the wheels, he saw the outline of vodka bottles and a box of shotgun shells. Nothing much worthwhile.
As he crossed the tracks, something caught his eye, a long, sleek black shape. A lightweight, stripped down VSS sniper rifle lay there, looking very much worse for wear, with a cracked scope and lichen-covered wooden stock. He needed a replacement for his AK74, and this could fit the bill nicely. Tossing away the broken scope, he turned his attention to the stock, scraping the dirt and lichen from it, revealing a single word carved neatly into each side: SCAR. Interesting.
=
Yar looked out over another grey Pripyat day. Pottering around his safehouse, he tidied up old cans, packed all his cutlery and vodka and collected up the map sprawling over a nearby table. He had to leave, his food was running out, and the city itself was barren of all supplies now, the last tins in the department store were all pierced from gunfire and rotten. Slinging his pack and rifle over his bag, and lacing up his boots, he headed for the stairs, quickly heading down the multiple flights of stairs, over his barricades and traps. Turing off at the first floor, he headed for a window, and jumped down onto the top of an old lorry.
Jumping down again, he took up his SVD, gripping it tightly. His only lead on the Monolith was this mysterious figure 'Charon', their supposed commander. His note suggested a hideout, somewhere they could escape the clutches of the Zone. He wracked his brains. Somewhere out of touch with the Zone's powers, yet still inside the wider military exclusion area presumably. Several came to mind: the Dead City; the deep, sinister forests beyond the Dark Valley; perhaps the swamps. He dismissed all of them, Dead City was a stronghold of Renegades and Mercs, the forest was unexplored due to it being one of the many places that stalkers never returned from, the swamps too distant.
It was all idle speculation anyway. The only real plan he had was to search for more clues. He needed to visit more Monolith outposts. He started the long walk north, deeper into the shadow of the ever thickening grey-brown clouds.
=
He arrived at the old port as rain began to fall. Pulling up his hood and goggles, he hunched his back against the wind and water, sprinting for the cover of the port buildings. Taking off his wet coat, he left hanging to dry and ventured inside. Skeletons lay around here and there, their Monolith suits often ripped and torn where the mutants had tried to eat them. If you looked closely, the bullet fragments occasionally lay under their bones. Wandering further in, he came across various bits of stalker paraphernalia: nothing of interest. Heading up the ladder to the upper floor, he found another corpse lying against a wall. It was a veteran in an exoskeleton, it's combat shotgun still in it's dead hands. Pushing past it, he saw precisely what he wanted. A map was pinned to a nearby wall, but no ordinary map. Most stalker paper maps showed from the Cordon to Southern Pripyat, and from the Dark Valley to the Yantar east-west. But this, this was a map of Monolith territory.
Pulling it down, he sat in silence, poring over the valuable document as the rain drizzled outside. There were places on here he had only dreamt of visiting. The Army Warehouses was at the bottom, with the Radar and Red Forest above. Then came Pripyat, all areas of the city fully mapped, even with marked building labels. Above that was the crown jewel, Chernobyl NPP. Seeing the plan of the power plant in detail was an astounding thing, with radiation spots too dangerous for even the near-immune Monolithians marked, and a small arrow pointing into the main shell marked “Sarcophagus”.
The rest of the map was something entirely new however. All of it showed Monolith base locations, and some of these markers cropped up in places he'd never heard of before, like Limansk and ‘Hospital, to the west. Alarmingly, to the north lay a place marked “Generators – Avoid, V. Dangerous”. He looked closer, trying to discern why, as a loud rustle came from the bushes.
With a start he sat up and dropped the map, reaching for his SVD. Something was snorting and snuffling around down below, outside the building. Footsteps echoed on hard concrete, partly masked by the soft patter of the rain. They sounded like a man's, but the loud, wet snorts emanating from downstairs were anything but. Suddenly, the ladder jerked. It was climbing.
Yar silently placed his rifle on the floor, reaching across for the bulky shotgun in the hands of the dead Monolithian. He tested it's weight, heavy enough to be loaded. The ladder rhythmically vibrated as the beast ascended each rung. Cocking it, a shell slid into the chamber with a satisfying click. The ladder jerked violently, slipping from side to side as the thing bellowed up through the opening. It's head appeared for a millisecond, anger covering it's monstrous visage, before Yar held down the trigger, unleashing shotgun shells into it on full auto. Red fluid spattered all over the wall as the body hit the floor with a thud.
Yar looked down at the corpse. A bloodsucker at least; thankfully not the Headhunter itself. Outside, bushes moved in the distance, and soft calls echoed around the empty tower blocks. Snatching up the map in one hand and his sniper rifle in the other, he slid down the ladder, and sprinted for his drying coat, slinging it on. He dashed off northwards, his back to the setting sun.
=
An Aside
Zone Folklore: On the NPP
“Some years ago I met this stalker, huge fellow, must have been 6ft 5 at least, made bigger by his exoskeleton. He had a lisp too, poor guy, he seemed so shy. So, this guy said to me that he'd been to the NPP at the bar one night after a long conversation about artifacts. None of us believed him, obviously, there's the Brain Scorcher to get through, let alone the legion of Monolithians. Now, this guy says nothing, and pulls out a photo of the NPP, all ruined and damaged like it is, nothing special there. But then he points out that the guy who took it, who was holding up his rad detector in the foreground showing some crazy reading, had a watch on facing the camera, with the date.
And, like he said, the gloved hand with the watch was his hand, and the date on the watch was not even two weeks previous. The whole bar went silent at that. The Barman even turned off the music so we could hear his tales. He'd said that he'd been part of a trio that had gotten past the Scorcher, he refused to say how, and had done the whole shebang. He’d reached the NPP and he'd made it inside the fucking thing.
Now, other than saying they'd been stopped by a locked door and had found this strange machine that he thought might be the Monolith, he stayed silent about the innards of the structure. But now, get this, the outside, the outbuildings and courtyards were some crazy shit from what he'd said. The radiation levels there were so high that the anomalies were massive, like two or three meters across, and you got loads of strange effects.
He said there were these “ghost creatures” that ran after you, leaping at you and disappearing in a puff of smoke that made you giddy, and patches of air that glowed and swirled like whirlpools, where things could walk in one and appear out of another. His tale of a firefight with a Monolith squad in the ruins while avoiding all this was gripping stuff. Apparently they would use these to pop out of nowhere, and ambush him. He had pictures to prove most of it as well.
On the way out, since he was the combat expert of his little group, and slower than the rest because of his exo, he lagged behind and explored a bit further around the north side. As he wandered round the grounds of the NPP, he realized that the Monolith units harrying him didn't follow him up into the northern area of the plant, they just hung back and took potshots from out of range, setting up a line of defense with snipers. They were too afraid of him!
So this guy, he presses on, and things seem fairly fine and dandy. But then he says he started coming across weird mutants that he'd never seen before, like big, hulking controllers with claws that made him feel like he was tripping on acid whenever he got too near. Needless to say, he scarpered after that, but not before he'd seen the gateway leading out on the other side of the NPP. The other side of the NPP, imagine that! He says he didn't get a good look, but all he saw was this forest, brown all over, cos the trees had died, and their branches had grown outwards like wooden tentacles making this crazy twisted canopy. Underneath there were these Zombies, not the braindead stalkers we've all seen, but decaying stalkers with holes in them and missing limbs that were still walking, heading South towards the sounds of gunfire. The only thing visible other than that were these huge domes sticking out in the distance above the trees that looked like they were sucking in lightning from the stormy sky.”
=
Inside the Agroprom Research Institute
Lightning struck the tall chimney stack in the middle of the decrepit industrial complex, illuminating the torrential downpour soaking Strelok to the skin. He dashed from shelter to shelter, counting the seconds between lightning and thunder. The rain wasn't a good sign, it made his Geiger counter tick whenever he was exposed to it. The irradiated water must come from an emission cloud. Thank whatever gods looked upon this godforsaken place that the epicenter was still a few miles away.
Sitting in the shelter of the main building, he stared at his PDA, waiting numbly for signals from Degtayrev. He wouldn't do well out in this storm, the Agroprom complexes were the only decent shelter for a few miles, and the swamps were treacherous at the best of times. The flashes outside were getting redder and redder. He slowly stood up and wandered over to the large shuttered opening, testing it's weight. With a groan, he pulled with all his might, dragging it across 25 year old rollers to close of most of the gap. He poked his small campfire, and pulled himself into his sleeping bag, cutting out the rumbling and shaking and headaches as the emission rolled past.
=
His head snapped to one side, resonating with the sound of a perfect bitch-slap. In alarm and surprise he whipped out his knife in front of him, to see Alexander leap back with a grin on his face.
“Wake up, sleepyhead. Time to get going for the day.”
“Wha- how?” He asked groggily.
“Emergency anabiotics and a railway carriage. Wasn't pretty, but it worked. Anyway, time to get up, at this rate we can reach Yantar before nightfall.”
Strelok and Degtayrev stood on the slopes looking out over the perfect example of decay that is the area around Yantar. The long shadows of the afternoon barely obscured the ruins of the bunker next to the swamp. It was a sorry sight. The doors and tiny windows were all ripped off, strewn around in the grass, caved in. One of the walls had something not unlike modern art painted on it by numerous blood trails. The main walls were all pushed over, lying bent and torn against the stumpy trees and rusted military crap round the bunker's perimeter. Corpses dotted the ruins too, one highly visible in the striking orange bodysuit of a scientist. The fog rising off of the valley floor obscured the main facility itself, but it was in no better shape by the look of it. Piles of metal scrap blocked newly formed holes in the brick perimeter walls. More corpses surrounded the piles. Strelok sighed.
"Let's hope Kulgrov's body isn't the one in neon orange. I'm not gonna lie, it looks pretty bad. You recon the facility, I'll check the corpses, see if your guys are among them."
Strelok wandered through the ruined bunker, ignoring the derelict equiptment and scientific kit, and carefully moving around the corpses, crouched and deliberate in his motions ike a hunter waiting to strike. Using his expert's eye, he observed the directions of the bodies, the positions of the bloodstains. It looked like it had been a massacre. The number of shell casings he saw were alarmingly low, and there wasn't even signs of a clear assailant. All the corpses were loners, save two. Not one mutant. One of the notables was Semenov, the research assistant, pockets full of flash drives and PDAs. Strelok carefully extracted them, zipping them in a pouch. The other was a Monolithian, without a PDA on his person, but a name tag reading 'Foma'. There was little of interest on him, only the fact it was a clue to Strider's whereabouts. He left the dead to their rest and headed up the hill, now fully bathed in shadow, towards Alexander and the Yantar research facility.
Present Day Hog sat on the hillside overlooking the iron bridge over the irradiated river between him and the Red Forest. Below him, Zecora, Twilight and Cardan prepared a small campfire in the entrance to the blocked tunnel. Nitro was busy fiddling with a radio he'd put together, trying fruitlessly to get a friendly signal. Pilot was visible in the watchtower on the far side. He'd said he was leaving once they reached the crossing point, his only thanks to keep watch on the far side that night before he left. Owl had paid him a princely sum to go with him. Unfortunately for Owl, Pilot was friends with many of the now dead stalkers of the Skadovsk that Owl had stiffed time and time again. Pilot had put a bullet through the back of his bald head and dumped him in the river as he was halfway across the bridge.
Hog couldn't bring himself to care. If anything he was surprised Pilot had the guts. At least he had two less people to look after.
He wandered down the path to the campsite they'd set up in the tunnel next to the ruined buildings by the bridge. He saw Twilight looking over at the far bank, eyes glazed without focus, staring at the tunnel on the far side. Sitting next to her, asked, "What's up?"
Twilight looked balefully back at him, her face etched with sorrow.
"I've been here before."
"Pardon me? When?"
"When we, me and my friend Applejack, first arrived here. We were sent here by the Princesses after one of your 'stalkers' ended up in our land through some strange means and caused havoc. We were just meant to investigate..."
She sniffled a bit and wiped away a few tears.
"With him we met an old human in a tower deep in the forest, and he sent us to this place to meet up with Garry. And now he's dead..."
She started crying in earnest now. Hog put an arm around her and pondered. It was, as he suspected, the infamous bridge to Limansk and sealed off area of the Red Forest he'd accidentally led them into. Even if it had happened months ago, the rumours that the Forester still tended to the woods were true as well. Finding him was as good a plan as he had at the moment.
The sun was setting below the horizon when Strelok and Alexander finally reached a point in the facility wall that they could scale. Truth be told, it looked more like a continuous mountain of junk than a wall of any kind, obviously piled up as defenses.
Hoisting his gear into his back, Strelok turned to his companion.
"Whatever's inside that place, however bad, this is the only shelter we have for the night. We're going hole up here no matter what, it's too dangerous outside."
He planted his foot on a long metal girder protruding, hoisting himself up from there onto the remains of what looked like a pylon. Moving along that, he clambered up further, over the end of a rusted pipe, stained a nasty shade of green at the bottom, ignoring the loud protests of his Geiger counter. Carefully pulling himself along, sliding over the majority of the debris, he got his first look inside the compound. It was deserted.
Turning and waving Alex up, he looked down for somewhere to jump down to, revealing a large grassy patch bubbling gently with chemical anomalies. The only thing in the anomaly field was a large tractor, tyres obviously melted away, rusted and torn open for parts. Turning back, he clambered back onto the wall, shimmying along the scrap until a clear spot to land opened up on the Tarmac road behind the large hangar that covered most of his side of the central courtyard. Leaping down, he pulled out his rifle and stared out at the decrepit place.
Memories came flooding back. It hadn't changed that much since he'd been here last, except for the lack of zombies. Once he heard Degtayrev jump down after him, he set off into the place, illuminated by the fading twilight. He headed for the central brick building that looked unimportant compared to the heavy machinery and towering office-like buildings surrounding them, but he knew better. Pulling off his hooded visor, he took a deep breath of the air. It was the same as it was then, thick, musty, full of decay and sorrow. Heading back to Degtayrev, he lead him to small shed in the far corner of the facility. After a few attempts to break past the rusted door, it revealed a moth eaten blanket and a couple of tinned pies sitting on top of a box of shotgun shells.
"I stashed this stuff here way back, just in case. Get some rest, I need to go pay my respects to someone."
Degtayrev dumped his stuff, dutifully sitting and pulling out a cleaning kit for his weapons. Strelok left him, and head back for the brick building, switching on his night vision goggles and strapping a flashlight to the barrel of his handgun. The VSS was in too bad condition to be reliable for where he was going. Ducking through a window, he shone his light around, looking for the stairs. As he took a step forward, his boot squelched in something. Looking down, a pool of semi-congealed blood and rotting remains, grunting in disgust, he stepped past it, following a trail of blood that headed for the basement. Heading down the stairs into the small, metal plated antechamber of Lab X16 below, a mangled skeleton in a bloodstained and shredded Monolith suit sat against the wall. This was definitely not a good sign.
He pulled through the corpse's pockets, finding no identity card or PDA. After he finished he approached the gap in the floor in the corner, looking down it. His torch wasn't powerful enough to reveal the bottom of the shaft, but it did reveal that the ladders that were there previously were missing, replaced only by a thick, coiled rope tied sturdily to a large pipe in one corner. Throwing it down, he tore strips from the suit of the dead Monolithian, wrapping them round his hands. Testing his weight on the rope, he pulled himself onto it, dangling above empty space. Releasing his grip slightly, he slid in bursts down to the floor at the bottom. Untangling himself, he stared into the blackness, even with night vision goggles barely able to make out the tall, irregular shapes that stood in front of him. Pulling out a couple of glowsticks, he snapped them and tossed them at the shapes.
As they lit up the room in a green glow he screamed and fell back against the wall behind him.
Far North
Yar was no closer to finding the remnants of the Monolithians. The NPP was deserted as far as he could see from here, the only humans visible were the corpses of soldiers, decaying and bloody, strewn in rough piles around the wasteland of scrap outside the front. Various helicopters and BTRs were burnt out on the road leading over the bridge before him and into the plaza in front of the NPP. No doubt the site of countless casualties.
It was eerie in a way. He'd always expected it to be like Pripyat, with trouble lying in wait in every building and an almost tangible aura of malevolence and danger. Instead all he felt was sorrow. It was the icon of the Zone, the symbol of all that it represented. A shattered place, a death chamber encased to protect the outside world. In vain, probably.
Against everything he'd told himself, the desire to get closer, to walk around it's legendary walls was overpowering. It would be his only opportunity. Heading across the bridge at the end of the seemingly endless northern road through the Zone. It felt like all stalker's paths lead here. He was just glad to have survived the whole way. Avoiding the huge gravitational anomalies that dotted the wide open concrete spaces, he pottered around the rubble, drawn unconsciously towards the small door in the massive facade of the concrete sarcophagus. Poking his torch inside, of looked like a sealed off entrance for vehicles, given the hinges and wheels of the section of wall in which the wall was, letting it open wide pre-disaster. The Monolithians must be gone, leaving their front door wide open and undefended.
Inside was largely bland, only a small alcove stood out, illuminated by a flickering yellow sodium lamp clearly on the point of failure. Clutching an anti rad artifact close, he headed for it, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
On the floor a round porthole with a worn ladder lead down into murky depths. Definitely one place not to explore. The only other feature was a small table with a steaming mug sitting on it. The mug itself was clean, white and decorated with a thick black band almost up to the edges broken by a blood red heart shape. The liquid inside simmering gently he didn't want to guess at. He looked behind him suddenly as a sharp groan broke the silence. A vaguely humanoid figure shambled round the corner, barely even wearing rags, it's whole body deformed by the radiation. Almost of it's own accord his hand snatched up the mug, violently spraying the mutant with the liquid inside. It burned through it's face like acid, peeling back skin, then flesh, then bone, all the way into the grey matter.
He turned and ran, handgun out, sprinting back for the cover of the bridge leading back across the canal away from the NPP. He didn't want to think about what that was, or the figure in a trenchcoat and peaked officer's cap he saw far in the distance with ominous purple eyes as he ran.
If they'd left even the NPP, where were they?
Strelok for the first time for as long as he could remember (not very long given his amnesia) was truly overcome with terror. Scrambling for his handgun he pointed it frantically at the shapes, the light revealing them in greater detail. They were fully flayed bodies, strung up like animal carcasses from the feet, dripping blood from their outstretched fingers. Most were missing limbs or other parts of their anatomy, but none had a scrap of skin between them. Blood-filled, semi ruptured eyeballs stared into him.
Breathing heavier than a marathon runner, he lay there, aiming at the gruesome abattoir. Nothing moved, except for the drip-drip-drip of blood forming a lake underneath them. Still nothing came out of the dark to confront him. He slowly got to his feet, carefully moving round the edge of the room as silently as possible. As he reached the other side, he exhaled a sigh of relief. The next room along held a pile of assorted protective suits, mostly Sunrise and Monolithian, and weaponry. Getting out another few glowsticks he spread out all the bits and pieces. Looking through it, and remembering the contents of the room before, there weren't actually that many bodies, a dozen or so at most. From a cursory glance he couldn't see Strider's signature SVU, though he noticed a scientific suit named Sakharov. Poor fellow.
After pulling out a few PDAs and a pair of mags for his VSS, he left it all where it was and continued, avoiding the odd anomaly. By the look of the sporadic bloodstains and bullet casings on the floor, the fight had moved through all of X16, maybe a rearguard as the group obviously holed up here had tried to escape. Finally he reached the Lab's main chamber, the artificial brain. It still stood smashed in the centre of the roughly spherical room. Climbing up through the different levels, he noted the toppled barricades and ever increasing numbers of shell casings. Oddly though, the only bloodstains were huge pools, indicating that whatever killed them did it messily, which he already knew well enough, but that whatever did it hadn't taken any hits. Very strange.
The control room at the top was just as he saw it last, the same as most of the lab. He was nearly there.
"Oh Ghost, what happened to you, eh?"
Amazingly his skeleton was still here, wearing his signature grey sunrise suit that healed wounds after he'd doused it in a broth he'd made after boiling a Kolobok. Looking through his gear he knew he would find little, he vaguely remembered checking him after coming through here the first time. What he didn't check the previous time however was his boot. All three of them had hollowed out a small compartment in their left sole, with the locations of their stashes and hideouts, just in case. Carefully pulling off his boot off the bones of his foot, he felt around, and pulled out a few worn little sheets. One was a photo of him, Strelok and Fang climbing through the wreckage of the sarcophagus. A second was what he expected, a list of areas and specific locations. The third was similar, yet it bore a Monolith eye and wasn't written in Ghost's handwriting. Interesting.
"Time to lay you to rest, old friend. He dragged the body into a sleeping position, and pulled out his spray can. As neatly as possible, he sprayed
"Ghost, who went where stalkers had never been before. RIP"
Surveying his handiwork, he could hear a sound out of place. A slow tapping. Following it to it's souce, a large concrete locker, he heard more, voice, quieter than the wind, groaning "Help... Me....". A pile of broken pipes blocked the door. Pulling them away, he yanked it open, slowly revealing a short, emaciated figure in loose green overalls. His lips were bone dry and flaking, leaking droplets of blood.
"Wa.. water"
Strelok pulled out a canteen and slowly poured it into the man's mouth. All around him lay empty tins and a pair of empty bottles. After he'd drunk it all in small sips, Strelok gently pulled him out, retrieving the curtain helmet and backpack to the scientific suit. The man sat there for a few minutes, breathing heavily and stretching his limbs before speaking up in a quiet voice:
"Thank you Marked One, I... I guess I owe you again."
"It's good to see you too Kulgrov. I'll get you out, don't worry."
"That smell, it's...."
The weak scientist retched, coughing up water. Strelok quickly pulled the backpack onto him, and attached the curtain visor, hearing the filtered air hiss as it flushed out the suit.
"What is that smell, my word it was horrible."
"I'll tell you later, ok? There's a few things up ahead you don't want to see."
Strelok put his arm around Kulgrov's back supporting his weight as they shambled along together through the passageways back the way he'd came in.
"OK, Kulgrov, close your eyes, don't open them whatever you hear or feel? Promise me."
"Uh, of course Strelok. I don't get what's so bad, but, lead on."
Guiding him around the edge of the grisly maze of strung up bodies, he found his rope, tying the end around kulgrov's waist and legs. Climbing up past him and shimmying up for what seemed an eternity, he reached the top. Thank heavens that he was so undernourished, how Strelok would lift a fully grown man up a deep shaft like that was something he didn't like to think about.
"You can open your eyes now, man. Danger's past."
The scientist lay weakly in the chsamber below the factory building, listening to Strelok pant from the exertion.
"What was it you didn't want me to see?"
"Oh, well, a sizeable portion of your group died, and then the beast flayed them, dismembered them, and strung what was left from the ceiling."
Kulgrov retched violently, coughing and spluttering through what little liquid he could vomit. Strelok put his arm around him and led up and out into the night.
The next morning, Hog gathered up his small band, rousing them from sleep as the first rays of sun broke onto the red trees on the far bank. As he got up himself, he'd seen Pilot head off down the road, into the unknown.
Strelok, Degtayrev and Kulgrov headed out the next morning, gathering up anything worth scavenging, as little as there was. The soft dawn light cast long shadows over the factory courtyard, making it look oddly calm and beautiful compared to it's usual dark, decrepit visage. Leaving the small shelter, they entered the more administrative area of the factory following the road through to the far side. In some ways, Strelok was grateful that the path ahead was thick with anomalies. Kulgrov was still weak from malnourishment, and spending time plotting a route round the mixture of electro and gravitational anomalies left plenty of time for rest. Having had so much experience in it, he left it to Degtayrev to find the path through, heading off to pick up the handful of minor artefacts left by extinguished anomalies. An hour or so later, as the anomalies started to thin out, he looked out to the road ahead, almost directly north. It felt familiar... looking back at the factory, a wave of nausea came over him, memories rushing back.
Running like a bat out of hell up the road; looking back at the factory to see a stalker pursuing him with clear murderous intent, judging by the stray bullet passing him; throwing his bag of supplies under a flatbed truck when the stalker was out of sight at the bridge crossing so he had the speed to escape; frantically radioing Fang to blow the underpass doors they'd rigged with explosives; the boom and the darkness of the tunnel.
Coughing and spitting, he saw the engraving on his recently acquired rifle: Scar. That was who his pursuer was, his would be assassin. Looking back up at the road ahead, a dot moved on the horizon. Motioning for the others to hit the floor, he fell to one knee and pulled out his rifle, looking for the shape through his sniper scope. It was a stalker in a classic green loner's sunrise suit, lightly armed with a heavy pack. He was young and clean shaven by the look of it. No one he knew.
Someone obviously unafraid of the dangers nearby it seemed. The red forest lay to the east, the border wall on the side of the road all the way to the iron bridge. Slowly standing up, he walked out towards the loner as he heard the quiet "Hail!" and saw the man wave towards them.
They shook hands, left-handed as was customary in the Zone. Not having one's shooter to hand when dealing with an unknown stalker was always a bad idea. After meeting their first bandit, every newbie stalker knew it paid to be mistrustful of strangers.
"Pilot."
"Strelok."
The stalker looked taken aback.
"Wow, Strelok in the flesh. Everyone thought you'd died or left or something."
"I did, leave that is. I was persuaded to come back."
"Oh. Where you headed?"
"North. You?"
"The bar, I need a hell of a drink. I've come from the Skadovsk, up north. If that's where you're going, don't bother, everyone's dead. The whole north-western Zone was flooded by mutant hordes and wracked by emissions day and night, I was in the last group to get out I think..."
He looked reflective for a second.
"I ditched the rest of them back at the rickety old bridge. They were heading into the red forest, to try and find some old guy that lives there. Sounds like suicide if you ask me."
"True. Was there any reason for the Zone going rampant?"
Strelok's interest was piqued. It looked like things were bad all across the Zone.
"Well, I'd say the only reason I saw was with the rest of the survivors. I'd find them if you want answers."
"Thanks. Oh, and I would stay clear of Rostok city if I were you. The same things are happening down in the south as well. Apparently Duty's besieged day and night by non-stop mutant attacks and are barely able to get in or out. Same thing in the Cordon too."
Pilot looked dejected.
"Be seeing you. Good luck in the red forest, you'll need it."
He set off towards Yantar. Kulgrov and Alexander came up to him.
"Our first lead's not far from here, in the Red Forest. If they're alive then it sounds fairly promising. Let's head out before anything finds us."
Hog stood in front a large gap in the crumbling yellow walls around the Red Forest. Behind him, the the sunlight vanished almost entirely under the thick canopy of gently swaying red boughs. The rest of his small group sat around him.
"This is going to be the most dangerous part of the trip so far. Apparently even before the troubles started up, this area was teeming with both packs of psydogs and bloodsuckers. You all need to stay close to me, though Nimble and Nitro, you take the rear. All of you have to be on the lookout, the longer we take to notice something coming, the more likely one or more of us will die, ok?
Bloodsuckers can turn almost entirely invisible, only their yellow eyes are visible. They're humanoid, so don't underestimate their abilities, they can be canny hunters. If you see one uncloaked, then it hasn't spotted us yet. What I'm more worried about are the psydogs. While they usually only hunt alone or in pairs, they create extremely lifelike apparitions of themselves, often 4 or 5 at any one time. The apparitions will disappear if they take a bullet, so put a shot into each dog, if it's still there, open fire. Most inexperienced stalkers wouldn't survive their first encounter with either of them without help, and none of you are fighters, the faster we move, the better.
I want you all to stay here, I'm going to try and sort out a safe route, I'll be back with an hour at least, so stay out of sight in the watchtower by the bridge. Have someone looking out to check for anything incoming."
They all murmured in assent, checking their gear and weapons while wandering over to the small watchtower overlooking the river.
Hog turned, cocking his assault rifle and stepping into the unknown. The forest was cool and damp, even for him in his exoskeleton. Setting off northwards, he pulled off his helmet and held his binoculars to his face, listening as well as looking in all directions. There was distant barking to the southwest, but no sound up ahead. What troubled him were the anomalies in the distance where the ground started to rise up.
He replaced his helmet, and clipped a small climber's hip bag to his belt, re-appropriated to hold bolts and other small scraps of metal. Holding his rifle ready at his shoulder, he carefully paced forward step by step, noting the trees on either side of his path. Clicking broke the silence, suddenly jumping in intensity. He took a few steps back, marking a clear line in the leaves, and proceeded in a wide circle around the radioactive hotspot.
When the thick anomaly field lay directly ahead of him, he paused for a swig of vodka, every stalker's remedy for both radiation and the deep fear of the landscape so deadly. Closing his eyes for a second he regulated his breathing, getting himself under control. With the care of a surgeon, he dropped his right hand into the bag, keeping his rifle steady, and tossed a bolt into a small gap in the visible air distortions. With a screech and flash of sparks, it shot up into the air, shredding itself in the process. He stepped across a little and repeated. And repeated. Still no gap in the impenetrable wall of silent death ahead of him. He looked around, searching for another way around.
In the distance, the anomalies passed through a rocky outcrop. He jogged over, straining to see if there was a way over it in the murky light, as a howl rose above the soft sounds of leaves underfoot. He swivelled, aiming into the distance, seeing only swaying leaves on the trees and tiny rays of yellow sunlight dancing over the leaf litter covering the ground. Waiting motionless like a hunter, he counted, his heart hammering in his chest. A second howl broke the silence, coming from his right. Barely visible, a silhouette of a dog rushed across his vision in the distance, clearly not looking for him or heading for the entrance camp where the others were waiting.
Exhaling heavily, he got back to the job at hand, scrambling into the rocks, climbing precariously along the face of them across the danger below. At least the others would find this significantly easier than him, metal-shod boots, thick gloves and a body covered in servomotors was not conducive to his agility, especially when he heard the distinctly human shouts in the distance.
As he scrambled back over as fast as possible, the gunshots started, and the howling resumed with ever greater intensity. Falling to the ground on the other side with a thud, he ran, straining muscles against the groaning servos that refused to move fast enough for an exoskeleton user to sprint. Flipping the safety off his Sig550 he feared the worst. He'd told them to stay where it was safe.
As he rushed through a thick clump of bushes, chaos unfolded before his eyes. A circle of fallen long rocks, obviously originally a stone circle surrounded a trio of stalkers burning through ammo as fast as their weapons would allow. Around the edges, snorks and psydogs charged at each other and the stalkers. One of the stalkers, in a SEVA suit, had a pistol in one hand, a branch in the other, swatting away and shooting at the dogs, causing them to dematerialise in puffs of smoke with each hit. The others had rifles out, spraying at the snorks leaping at them, all fire discipline abandoned. Ducking behind a tree and seeking out the true psydog from his clones, he opened fire.
=
Nimble stood overlooking the cracked road leading up to the watchtower. Safety was just hours away, as soon as Hog came back. Of course, hours might as well be an age in the Zone, things can change so fast, but he'd survived too much to be caught out now. He'd never been a fighter, more of a scrounger, a deal-broker, a courier. He'd been in the Zone for years now, always a survivor. He'd outlived the whole of Clear Sky, survived capture by Bandits, survived the trip to the Skadovsk in the north. He should live to see his way back.
The soft patter of distant gunfire echoed from the forest. His grip tightened on his shooter. Maybe this time things might not turn out so fortunately.
Battle Born and his stallions had learned quickly. Learned that avoiding is always preferable to engaging. That hiding away from the open air is the way to survive the ferocious red storms that make the day darken to a blood red twilight and shake the ground. That many places to hide are often occupied already by creatures that dislike being disturbed.
This had all come at a price though. There was only 8 of them left from the 13 that had stayed on, and truthfully they were nowhere near close to finding the VIPs. They'd learned they were a long way out of their depth.
That seemed to be true for the humans in the large compound not far from the small village that they used as a HQ, well, more of a hideout. The humans had initially had plenty of troops to circulate, with guards in towers able to pick off the monsters at long distance. They'd been careful to avoid being spotted by them. Over time however, they shot less and less monsters, leaving more and more, barely firing once per hour by now.
The entrance had to pick up the slack created there, and the casualties on the human side were beginning to rack up, losing lives as they seemed to get more sluggish and less responsive as time went on, losing accuracy and arguing with each other whenever they had rest. He hadn't seen a single one eat. It must be a lack of supplies. They were under siege by an enemy that didn't have the intelligence to even understand what it was.
Him and two trusted scouts had seen it all come to a head: they'd hidden behind the bushes on a nearby ridge, camouflaged, when the first group of humans they had seen leave in all their time exit on bad terms. By the look of it, there was much shouting and gesticulating between those remaining and those abandoning the base. More monsters had started to appear, and the group had sprinted right below them to escape the onslaught.
After that, well, hope seemed a little pointless. The next attack was barely repelled; the defenders were completely overrun and those left resting fought off the rest of the monsters. That was during last night, now seemed like the final hammer blow. A horde of dogs and boars was heading for them. A few days ago and they would have been fine. Now, if the one person on watch didn't alert the rest in time they'd all become animal food.
He shuddered at the thought.
Strelok nearly collapsed after the final snork died. He was bruised, cut, winded and one of them had landed on his leg, wrenching the ankle badly. Too much time getting fat and slow in the big land for when it really mattered. The others weren't much better. Degtayrev's military body armour had protected him from the worst of their attacks, though two had jumped him and left him with deep cut in one arm, likely infected. Kulgrov was fairly similar to Strelok, though not being weighed down by a heavy kitbag and carrying a rifle much better adapted to CQC had meant he'd managed to just about hold his own in the onslaught. He'd obviously picked up some decent stalkering skills since Strelok had rescued him. It was left to him therefore to greet the stalker in a mercenary colours exoskeleton that had saved their asses.
"Thanks man..." He forced out before grimacing in pain behind his visor.
The merc closed the distance to them, hauling Strelok to his feet and picking up some of the spent mags lying around.
"No time to waste, you need to come with me now. There's always more out there and I've got more pressing concerns than you three to deal with."
Without waiting he started off back into the woods, hands still ready on his rifle. Degtayrev put his good arm round Strelok, supporting him as they limped frantically away from the clearing. The noon sun shone down soft rays, making the shadows of the leaves dance lazily over the blood and the corpses and spent shell casings.
The short walk felt like it took an age, the noticeable sounds of pain and stink of blood preyed on all their minds. Making each gust of wind a roar, each bush an ambush. Just like any predator around the world, the predators of the zone were drawn to the smell of blood and battle like flies to shit and picked off the weak and injured with vicious efficiency. Seeing the break in the wall up ahead, the light and safety, was the white light at the end of the tunnel.
As they stepped through, a figure emerged from a rusted flatbed truck, a stocky black woman in a stalker suit with a double barrel shotgun over one shoulder. She nodded at their rescuer, and climbed down after them. Walking round it, a pair of stalkers sat round a small fire by a building, a rifle carefully disassembled on a sheet before them, their hands moving over it with tools, deep in conversation. Atop a small watchtower across the road, a third stalker in a sky blue flecktan suit leant against the guard rail staring into the distance. Most intriguingly though was the final stalker, sitting staring into the large tunnel entrance nearby, head in her hands with long purple hair splayed over her back.
Yar sat down and whistled in appreciation. He didn't worry, through the thick gasmask it was barely audible. Before him lay the back of the NPP in all his glory stretching off into the distance. Some way along, a pair of charcoal grey towers seemed to be sucking in lightning from the grey sky above through massive metal maws the size of roundabouts. Signs of existence were everywhere, barricades, campfire spots, crates of supplies. Yet everything was deserted. He looked around him. Nothing moved. He strolled through the courtyards and roads, dwarfed by the massive structures on every side. It should've been a deathtrap, not a graveyard. He sighed. Jogging to a nearby ladder, he climbed with the quick efficiency of a sniper's years of experience of similar ascents, covertly dodging along rooftops and gantries, up more ladders until he lay on top of the sarcophagus itself. Staring out at the landscape from above, he just knew something was off, something he should be looking for. An old sniper's intuition. Pulling out his binocs, he panned and panned around, taking everything in, concentrating immensely. Finishing with the main compound, he started to scour the edges of the compound. It all looked kosher, but something just dug at him. Looking closer at one of the checkpoints around the perimeter, he realised that it had no road leading to it, and the structure was post disaster, not established. There seemed to be a hint of a path in the distance beyond it, more a stalker trail than a cleared military route. He got to his feet and checked his map. One step closer.
As the three of them limped into the camp by the Limansk Bridge behind Hog, Degtayrev let out a sigh of relief and turned to Strelok, "Seems like we've found the group Pilot was talking about, who'd've knew all it took was a couple of girls to trigger the Zone, eh?". He didn't look amused. This place didn't hold good memories for him, last time he'd been here he was running for the nearby tunnel under sniper fire. The whole place was too exposed, fine for an organised group with plenty of men to control both sides of the rusty drawbridge but a deathtrap for a small group trapped between the Red Forest and deadly unknown of the old town across the river. The camp itself barely had cover, a damaged watchtower next to the bridge with too many windows and a couple of burned out vehicles.
With a shrug Degtayrev helped him sit down against a truck. Kulgrov slumped down beside him as the adrenaline crash set in combined with his already frail body. The two of them set to work unpacking Strelok's food and medical kit at pace more like men twice their age. With the commotion the two stalkers engrossed in tinkering by the fire had noticed them now,
"Major?"
"Hey Nimble, it's the old FSB Major, Alex!"
Nimble, that name again, presumably the guy on lookout in the tower. Strelok swore he'd heard it before, but with the hood and half-mask over his mouth he couldn't place him. While Strelok was caught up in the past, Alex had strode forward and embraced the two technicians,
"What are you dogs doing out here eh? Don't tell me, this is the annual rare shooter convention right?"
"Real funny man, what are you doing here walking in wrong direction?", replied Nitro. Both of them looked strained, understandably. "Who's the buddies?"
"Couple of strays I picked up on the way. More to the point a stalker called Pilot we met on the road told me you went to see Forester but all I see are some old wives chatting away and not leaving the house."
Hog looked over from his perch on the truck, "Fuck you, there's a solid wall of anomalies leading up to that tower. I think there's a way over some rocks but I had bail your sorry asses out first."
"Chill, it's fine, I didn't mean anything by it. Why're you going to meet this old guy instead of getting the fuck out of here anyway. Surely there's some cash waiting out in the big land for mercenary boy like you?"
"Like you'd know government man. I'm Hog by way. It's a long story and the storyteller don't feel like chatting much." Hog nodded at the stalker with long bright purple hair spilling down over her back (he guessed it was a girl, under all the thick layers of bodysuit it wasn't obvious). She was sitting away from the rest, head in hands in knees, like so many stalkers before trying to hide from the fear and despair. "Pretty shameful display really, sitting around the fire out in the open like a bunch of kids. Only the rookie Z had the damn sense to hide properly."
"Come off it man, we both know this place is pretty deserted and we're fucked something comes either way," drawled Cardan.
"You're not fucked if it doesn't see you, dumbass"
"What mutant isn't gonna smell Cardan's stink of vod from miles around?" Nitro snapped back.
While they were bitching as stalkers are wont to do, the black woman, who Hog had called "Z", crouched down next to Strelok and helped him prepare his bandages. She looked a bit older than most of the guys that ended up in the Zone, not helped by the prominent grey streaks in the hair poking out from under her hood.
"What ails you my new friend? Perhaps I can help your leg to mend?"
He pulled back the curtain visor from his face and looked coldly up at her. Like almost every stalker he'd seen, she had a lean, almost gaunt face from all the poor-quality, infrequent food but where it mattered most, deep down in the eyes, there was the hard piercing gaze of the survivor. Most of the stranger characters that turned up in the Zone from across the world didn't have the wariness or the keen observation needed to stop their insides becoming outsides.
"You'll need to take off your boot if I'm to tend to your foot."
Her accent definitely sounded African, the way she pronounced boot and foot were almost identical. He reached down to free up the ankle-clasp around the bottom of the SEVA suit leg that helped maintain it's excellent enviromental protection and got to work on the laces of his boot. Once it was off she tenderly lifted his ankle up to inspect it.
"Looks like a nasty sprain, no doubt a cause of pain. Nought much to do but to rest and rue."
Now he was forced to think on it he was mentally kicking himself over and over. Caught up with the shitstorm brewing here him and Alex had commited one of the greatest cardinal sins of good stalkering. They'd rushed. In their haste they'd ignored the groundwork; observing the area and it's residents, searching the anomaly fields for artefacts. Neither of them had been able to smuggle in some of the rare treasures blessed with all sorts helpful properties. What he'd give for a Soul right now. Being back in the Zone without those strange energies influencing his body felt unnerving, Alex probably felt the same.
He looked over at the two technicians arguing with Hog. "Maybe there's a old gun around here, has to be a decent length. Those two might be able to strip the barrel out for a splint."
He looked across at Kulgrov, but the poor fellow had fallen asleep halfway through one of the classic Zone diet sausages. The only thing to do in the meantime was crack open the vodka, sterilize the cuts and numb the pain. He was alive and if this were the old days he'd gotten away lightly all things considered. These weren't the old days though. Nowhere safe to sit and wait for a couple of days to heal and buy more ammo. Without the ability to walk beyond a hobble now though he'd be target one for any mutant they came across; free lunch. He tossed the vodka to Alex, who took a big gulp and splashed some on his own gash before handing it to Cardan.
"Thanks man." He paused for second, looking at Strelok, "Hey, why don't you use that busted piece of shit vintorez you're carrying?" said Cardan with laugh.
"Why don't you fix it up Mr Fix It? I lost my shooter, I saw it on the ground, it piqued my interest."
"Yeah, yeah, hot trash is what that shooter is. Come on, give it here, it'll hold your leg up better than an exo in no time."
Freedom was dead. He could see it's lifeblood seeping into the dirt through his scope.
Lukash's mangled corpse wasn't a pretty sight, but it was hard to look away from the last time he'd see the man that had led and defined his life for the last couple of years. When some of the more ansty members had taken off and left day after yesterday Max knew deep down it was over, but didn't have the heart to leave before the end. They managed to defend that night, but the casualties were building and the mutants were getting to close to maintain fire discipline. When most of the surrounding area had calmed the next day it seemed like things could improve.
They didn't muster in the afternoon like before, but as the moon started to lower in the sky the howls began and the shapes appeared from the darkness soon after. The unlucky men on the perimeter when they came had all died, no exceptions, but managed to stem enough of the tide that it didn't wipe everyone out before they got into the fight. Every hand held a gun that night, and just about every gun was shot.
When it was all said and done, 4 men that stayed and fought were alive come dawn. In the confusion they'd got split into 2 groups, each defending one of the old military base's watchtowers. The only one left with Max was one of the younger guys, covered in all sorts of lacerations that any number of bandages were struggling to deal with. He'd thrust a vodka bottle into his hand when the attack ended and listened to the poor lad try to drown the pain as the light of dawn started to emerge. The other two he spotted making their way down to the firepit once it got light enough to see there was nothing else coming. It was too far to really make out who they were.
Sitting there in the morning light, watching the sun rise over strewn corpses of Max utterly empty, even more so than when he'd decided there was nothing left for him out there in the real world where people hustled and bustled over the most insignificant things. For the first time in his life the contents of his pockets, the clothes on his back and the shooter in his hand were all he had. Even when he first came to the Zone he had something else: hope.
The armored horses were there, trying to be stealthy with slightly tragic effectiveness. They were watching him, he was watching them. It was pretty clear this shithole didn't belong to humans anymore. If the dumb things wanted it they could have it.
It was time to come up with plan, one that ended up with him alive, somewhere warm with women.
Yar hadn't felt so disturbed since he'd explored the Zone as a rookie. Whatever this place was, it was serious bad fucking juju. At first it looked just like another deserted corner of the Zone, all woods and rolling hills and ruined trucks and the odd corpse. Then the massive scars like something had crashed from space started to appear, leading up a hill wreathed in fog to huge metal spheres. Gently flashing lights sporadically emerged from the mist. He'd skirted round to the east, only to see another huge unnatural trench leading to the same summit.
At least next to it was another lead: a walled compound. From his perch under one of the twisted fingers of the scar in the hill, he could see it was pretty sizable, a single large building in the centre surrounded by containers and old trucks. And bodies. A lot of bodies, all Monolith soldiers, except for the mutilated amorphous blob of rotting flesh of a pseudogiant sitting in the middle of the main courtyard. There were a lot of Monolith though, and they never lacked firepower. Something didn't add up. He raised his binocs for a better view.
On closer inspection it just got stranger. Most of the bodies had been dead quite a while perhaps the few weeks since things went to shit. The blood from their wounds had dried to dark brown splodges mixing with the assorted greys, greens and browns of the monolith uniform colours and rotted flesh and bones poked out from sleeves and dismembered limbs. It seemed fairly expected until he noticed a few were far less decayed, a week or so dead tops. Maybe they'd fled here and met the same fate?
Then there were the wounds. Pseudogiants crushed their victims, but all the corpses looked like they'd died of lacerations or being simply pulled apart judging by the damage to the bodies. It was hard to tell, but the rotted giant was the same, no sign of damage from the explosives usually needed to bring them down.
He sat back and considered for a moment. The Zone was in meltdown, and all the life he'd seen was a couple of mutant rats and a single zombified stalker that barely qualified as alive. The thing that forced the Monolith out of Pripyat and the NPP must have chased down at least some of the survivors here. The fact he was still alive supported the idea it probably had moved on elsewhere.
A rumble broke the near silence of the light wind blowing past him up the hill. Hairs started to raise on his arms and neck. Large clouds were darkening over Chernobyl. Darkening red.
Before he was even really aware what he was doing he was on his feet with his pack and shooter over his shoulder, walking briskly the opposite direction, before breaking into a light jog. He had to find shelter right now, and almost anything was preferable to a graveyard like that. Skirting round the hill more of the trenches leading upward appeared, all pointing to a veiled black orb of metal in the mist. The whole thing felt roughly circular. The erratically flashing shapes in the mist were clearly anomalies of some kind, and he had no intention of finding out. The rest of the valley seemed devoid of any sign of human habitation besides the flattened remains of a solitary brick building.
It wasn't long before he'd gone round about half the hill, and heaven seemed to send a gift. A semi-circular vehicle tunnel, roughly the opposite side of hill from the road from Chernobyl, was cut into the side of the ridge. It looked deserted. He broke into a run. The clouds were definitely a building emission, and if there was anything inside any seconds gained to deal with them could be the difference between life and death.
His breathing was heavy, his head throbbing. The sensation was building by the second.
He tripped.
Smashing face first into the dirt his head was killing him now. Something was really wrong. His skull felt like it wanted to explode.
A controller hidden in the dark?
Pushing himself to his feet with what seemed like herculean effort he started to stagger back up the hill, his gun forgotten in the mud. It was barely noticeable at first, but soon with every step the jackhammer in his head was replaced by his hammering heart and labouring breath. Ahead of him dark clouds loomed. Behind him lay certain death.
He disentangled his pack from his shoulders and sprinted for the compound of corpses. He wasn't young buck anymore and smoked far too much in the last few years for this. He was barely aware as the lights to his left on the hill raised in intensity to a roaring pillar of lighting stretching up into the swirling red clouds above. Eventually the concrete walls came into view, but by this point they were little more than a blur lost in the red glow from above and roar of the oncoming deadly wave of rolling radioactive material. A door was ajar in the wall of the building and he pelted through it as his legs gave out in exhaustion. He tumbled down the stairs into darkness as the square of light behind him screamed blood red.
Looking again at Lukash's lifeless body it really hit him. Freedom is dead. All the structure of the Zone in the past is dead. Holding onto it means death too. Anything that didn't help him get out alive was worthless. Sitting there and thinking about it there the best path to procede seemed obvious. Cut and run.
Looking out over the sunlight reflected in the mist gently flowing over the rolling hills nearby all the worries and memories faded from his mind, replaced by the calm and utter focus of clarity of mind and intent. The last thought to go is wondering if those little horses would even consider doing what he's about to do.
He looked down at the boy slumped against the watchtower rail, passed out from the alchohol and down at the two dazed stalkers eating by the campfire. Reaching out he pulled the young man closer to him and went through his pockets. A half eaten pack of biscuits, half a mag of spare 5.45, some other useless sundries. He pocketed the biscuits before removing his knife from it's sheath and slitting the boy's throat. He'd used all the Gauss batteries during the night and tossed the useless weapon away, resorting to cutting into his supply of ammo for his pride and joy SVU to clean up the last mutants. There's nothing left for him up here, time to move.
It's difficult going on the stairs, climbing over dead dogs, boars and men, made even slower by time looting the corpses. The pair by the fire have noticed him coming down now, and give him a wave. He waves back and flashes them a smile. When it comes to survival you don't skimp on the details. Further down at the base of the tower sits the next key ingredient, a G36 not trashed by dirt and gore, still with about a third a mag. It's not gun he's used much, not his style but it's fine for one use. Double checking it's loaded and in working order he heads towards the old warehouse and shop by the exercise yard. Not much point checking it, all the gear was emptied from it days ago.
Quiet voices tumble through the cool morning air. It's Pasha and Devil Dimi, two of the solid core of Freedom's once proud fighting force, always able to keep cool and- he quashes the thought. He can't let it matter to him now. As he's rounding the building he takes a moment to close his eyes and regulate his heartbeat. He's a little nervous, butterflies in his stomach different to the usual fear but the stalker in him understands what to do and why. In a single smooth motion he steps round the corner, shoulders the G36 and guns them down in two clean bursts.
There's something tumultous brewing in the back of his mind, but right now he can't even acknowledge it. Carefully picking supplies from their still warm bodies he knows the only thing that can matter right now is calmly doing everything in his power to survive. Time to disappear.
Battleborn could scarely believe what he'd just seen. That any of them had survived the night was a miracle in itself; he wondered how the hoofful of remaining humans planned to proceed, surely leaving to find shelter with more of their kind. He'd thought the ordeal would have brought them closer together to patch the differences the rather rag-tag group had originally, two of them were resting and sharing a joke as they try to recover what's left taking. The other pair still in the tower looked worse for wear, one didn't look conscious and the other was just sat there staring into the distance.
He'd been lying there awkwardly for a while watching with morbid fascination as the more active pair on the ground picked at the corpse of one of the beasts, cutting chunks of flesh from it's misshapen body when Iron Resolve, the guardspony next to him on watch kicked him forcefully in the leg under their makeshift shelter of branches. Battleborn turned to admonish him only to see his face fixed forwards but eyes turned towards him like he'd been paralysed by seeing a ghost. With a flick of his eyes Iron indicated for him to look back.
The one sitting in the tower was staring right at them.
They were a long way off and covered in foliage, up until now he'd assumed those tiny eyes these humans had couldn't see over distance without the tubes he presumed were lenses on their weapons and what he guessed must be binoculars, even though they looked too thin to be very effective. His heart lodged itself in his throat, since they'd set up the observation post there'd been no indication they'd been noticed at all. Surely the humans would have attacked or asked for help in such a dire situation rather than ignoring them. Even as the shock of underestimating them wore off it it was still sat motionless facing them.
They sat there, watching each other in silence as the wind blew the stench of death gently through their nostrils until a thought sent a chill up his spine.
"Check our flanks," he hissed at Iron Resolve, who started wriggling back behind the ridge; "They know we're here and it's playing us for green colts. Who knows what they're up to". It was a tense minute before the human turned away to deal with its wounded friend. At least it seemed that way until he saw it gather up a few small items and head down the stairs without doing anything about the wounds. It even gave a half-hearted wave to it's mates down below before starting to join them looting the dead. Maybe it was just mourning his friend? Maybe it was just chance it chose to look their way?
He didn't register anything odd immediately as it pulled a weapon from the hands of a body and raised it to it's shoulder, and before he could even begin to guess what was going on the shrill crack of it messily blowing holes in it's friends made him flinch after days of having to sit there watching death like he'd never seriously imagined when he joined the guard. He could scarely believe it. It killed it's comrades it had fought with tooth and hoof with for days in cold blood and started taking their equiptment as if it had spotted some nice wildflowers to pick. Looking up at the one it had left in the tower there was large new red stain spreading through it's clothes from it's neck.
Still barely able to process what he'd just seen, Battleborn shuffled backwards towards the small encampment and magically alerted his small squad to head back from their observation points to join him. They all seemed confused and suspicious, not helped by days of little to no sleep.
"We've seen enough. There's no doubt in my mind that there's nothing here's that's not corrupted to the core. We need to warn the Princess."
An odd blue flash in the hills was largely ignored by the handful of living creatures around the old army warehouses that still had eyes.
As he was weighing it up, the man in blue started coming down the tower, swapping posts with Hog. Finally able to pay attention and look at the little gathering his eyes met Strelok's for a moment. His leg froze in midair and he toppled face first down the steps, collapsing at the bottom. There was something about his face that Strelok couldn't place, he definitely remembered it from after the amnesia, but it was none of the seasoned stalkers from places he used to frequent.
"What the fuck was that Nimble? Stop being fucking clowns the lot of you!" shouted down Hog after him.
"Marked One!" shouted Nimble, scrambling to his feet hastily. "Never thought I'd see you again." All the stalker's eyes were on him now, except the truculent one with the purple hair. They looked liked they'd seen a ghost. In a way he supposed he might as well be a ghost, the way stalkers apparently told tales of how he'd been the first to penetrate the Brain Scorcher and the supposed mystical treasure trove beyond.
"No. Surely not." said Hog.
Strelok carefully unsealed his glove, put it in his lap and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the legendary tattoo itself that gave him the name 'Marked One' when he was dragged half dead infront of Sid. Nitro and Cardan stood there stunned while Degtayrev quietly chuckled to himself.
"Shiiit, some stray huh," whistled Cardan, "thought those tales were just guys talking bollocks. Either that or you copped it long ago or something."
"If you're quite finished staring like a load of kids at the zoo,"
"Yeah, yeah, one splint coming up."
Cardan took the battered rifle and lay it down on his mat next to half-dissassembled rifle he'd been working on and set to work tidying up the .
"What's with this blue camo stuff you're wearing Nimble? Saw a body wearing it way back in the swamps."
"Shit, you didn't remember anything when they found you, did they? It's from my old faction, Clear Sky. We hid out in the swamps away from all the fighting between the other stalkers, monitoring the zone and trying to keep it in balance. Not like those scientists owned by the West that just meddled blindly. Long story short you breaking into the power plant that first time pissed the Zone off big time. Emissions every few days, mutants going wild."
"You say that now," joked Alex.
"Well, real bad for then. We had stop you, at all costs. So we hired a merc who got hit by an emission in the swamp to hunt you down, and, well, kill you." Nimble shrugged and looked pained. "I might be the only one left now, I guess I kinda owe you double between that and you saving me from those bandits. Anyway when you went back in a second time we knew it was now or never and sent pretty much every one of us who could shoot a proper rifle well with this guy Scar to stop you. From what I know there was this big battle at the NPP, a massive emission hit and the Zone went haywire for a couple days. It must have caught everyone there, none of our boys came back. Not a single one. Me and some of the others like Cold and Novi just gave up sitting in our empty base and went our own ways after a few days. Then you turn up on a death truck and I get caught by some thugs like the idiot I was."
It was a sombre tale, and made some sense of what he'd seen in the swamps. Strelok started laughing, he just couldn't stop himself. Nimble looked at him awkwardly.
"I'm sorry, after all this time, it makes sense. The PDA I had, when I got found, it must have belonged to one of your boys. All it had was one task: 'Kill Strelok'." He paused, thinking again, "Explains why Monolithians had so many stalkers after that too, if your whole faction went there and got their brains scrambled."
Nimble gave him a shrug. "I guess so".
They both sat there quietly in memory until Degtayrev broke the silence.
"Talking about the Zone being a bitch from unwanted visitors and unpaid debts it's time we got on with our job." He shot Strelok a look and twitched his head slightly at the purple one, still curled up facing away from the rest.
"Which is?" asked Hog.
"Unfucking what's up with the Zone and/or die trying. Just like Clear Sky really."
Degtayrev walked up behind the girl, reaching out to her, before recoiling suddenly as if he'd seen a bloodsucker. His hand instinctively found it's way around the grip of his pistol before he was even able to process what he'd just seen.
"She's real horny eh?" said Hog with a chuckle,
She swung her head around to shoot him daggers with bloodshot eyes, revealing the horn protruding from her forhead and vivid violent skin.
Yar woke under a pile of detritus, barely able to move from exhaustion.
He lay there for a second, quietly stunned as his brain slowly gained enough function to realise he was actually alive and mostly unharmed. It could hardly process not getting fried by the storm that all the rest of the day's events were completely ignored.
Something rattled on top of him.
With all the speed and predatory fluidity of a pensioner on their death bed he scrambled out of the pile of assorted crap and reached for his torch, not even able to make it to his feet from soreness. A soft ball of distorted space and light lazily drifted near the floor a few meters down the corridor, and a decrepit wooden crate was slowly being nudged towards him by thin air.
The poor poltergeist was even weaker than him. He couldn't stop himself falling back to the floor laughing and crying in despair in equal measure.
=
"You're really not from the Zone?"
"No!"
"So let me get this straight: you're from a magical world called 'Equestria', ruled by two princesses, and were sent here to learn about humans."
"Yes, in short."
Degtayrev looked across at Strelok. His face was cryptic at the best of times but he was pretty clearly way out of his depth too. He gave a non-committal shrug, but didn't seem like he was rejecting the story. Hard to given purple horn.
"And one is now dead?"
Twilight let out a sob
"Ok, we'll leave that for now. Have any of us humans been to this Equestria?"
Twilight was clearly distraught by this princess' death, but after a moment trying to compose herself, managed to choke back the tears to answer,
"We didn't know you existed until one burst through Zecora's door!"
Degtayrev's head swung around. He'd assumed they'd come here through the zone's neverending capacity to warp what seemed physically possible and create all sorts of hellish beasts, but flipping it on his head it made more sense. There'd always been tales of stalkers vanishing into Space anomalies, huge swirling balls that would simply trap you in a near-inescapable twisted spacetime loop, not entirely dissimilar to what he'd discovered in the Oasis bunker south of Yanov station. But plenty of men were never seen again. Ending up in some alternate reality or alien world didn't seem so great of a stretch.
"And where is he now?"
"In Equestria. When we first met him, there was..." she paused, trying to collect herself and work out how to tell the story, "There was a misunderstanding, and once we'd learned a little about each other's species and worlds our princesses tasked me and my friend Applejack to return with him to this place. He was against the idea, and we didn't take his warnings seriously. Maybe he was lying, or trying to hide something, but it proved far worse than we could have imagined."
"Then how did he end up back in this Equestria?"
"Well, I admit I panicked and transported myself back home not long after we arrived, I was just in shock. It's so different here. More brutal than a lot of our most grisly and terrifying tales. My friend Applejack persevered, and a group of us including the princess went back to rescue her. We took refuge in a building, and ended up taking a small group of humans back with us. This man, Hiker, was part of that group.
Upon seeing how serious your world was, and how different, Princess Celestia decided to send a small group back here led by the most experienced of the humans, Garry, with her sister Princess Luna along with me, Zecora and my friend Rainbow Dash. Both the princesses are astoundingly powerful magic users, and with Princess Luna with us we thought we'd be far safer..."
What tears she'd been holding in erupted from her uncontrollably,
"and now they're dead! Rainbow is DEAD! And Luna is dead too! And it's all my fauuughgllt!"
She'd completely broken down now, weeping into her hands, her breath coming out in rough, choking sobs. Degtayrev had no idea what to do, or even if he should do something. Consoling a woman was something stalkers left behind out there, in the Big World as they'd call it, let alone an alien woman. He looked at Zecora, her dark-skinned friend for help.
"I'd just let her be, my friend. Let her grieve those who met their end. Of this Garry she hath spake, he will never wake. O'er time in this land her magic diminished, because of this I fear we're finished."
The rhyming he didn't even want to consider right now but at least she was straight to the point. If this Garry had died, there presumably wasn't a single human soul that'd been to their magical world, nor the means for Twilight to take them back with her magic. How on earth he was seriously entertaining this story was beyond him, even if the facts lined up with the fantastical story.
=
Battleborn strode through the doors of Celestia's personal office chambers, not a little nervous despite his years of service and numerous reports directly to the particularly hooves-on Princess. He didn't seriously expect her to rage, or find him wanting, but the times were dire. Piles of paperwork littered the ornate mahogany desk as usual, and the scene seemed interchangeable with any other morning of her going about her business if not for the noticeable bags under her eyes and lack of sheen on her coat. He'd never seen her looking any less than impeccable, a 1000 years under her belt of acclimating to all but the gravest times of peril to her ponies.
"How goes it, Commander?"
"We've been forced to pull out our forces entirely for the time being, Princess. Our human settlement chosen as the primary observation point has collapsed completely under attacks from the monsters and the surrounding area has become untenable as a base of operations. We had been scouting for a safer location, but nothing but casualties have come of it."
"So the situation in this human realm we've been able to access is now reaching catastrophic levels?"
"That's correct Princess. What little other bastions of order we scouted in the chaotic landscape of monsters look to have all fallen. Of your sister and the ponies that have accompanied her, we have still no sign."
The Princess blinked a few times, wiping her eyes with her hooves while staring into the middle-distance through her desk. He thought he could see a few teardrops catch on her golden shoes. It was no great gesture but starkly Celestia at her least alicorn and most pony.
"Focus all your efforts now on locating the exploration party with my sister, all other concerns are secondary and incidental. We need her first-hoof perspective of what is possible for us to do in this place with her strength and experience to rely on, if anything at all. There's still colossal amouts we clearly don't yet know, despite your valiant work. Once they're confirmed safe and accounted for we can make a final decision on how to proceed with wider efforts."
She gave him a look of longing, like a being trapped in cage, making the furs on the nape of his neck stand on end. Her presence and gaze was legendary, able to help calm and reassure almost anypony like a true mother of the nation. He'd experienced that spark of leadership, certainty and reassurance deep in her eyes diminished at times of crisis, but never so lacking as to fail to give him that surety of purpose she had always instilled in her guardsponies from the hallways to the battlefield.
"Understood Princess."
He stood to attention and gave her a salute before turning and trotting out the doors again, that gnawing feeling in his gut worse than when he went in.
=
A lone figure stood out on the grassy plains overlooking the concrete colossus of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, advancing towards it step by ponderous step. Old, mangled bodies could be picked out on the cracked forecourts and roadways, both human and misshapen animals, but none other remained standing on their feet. The figure didn't look so different to them, so covered in small wear and tear and muddy dirt and blood that any vestige of insignia or allegiance were long gone, not that the once clean black and brown fabrics and kevlar plates stood much chance.
As the man stood there it felt perversely like he was staring into a mirror, a monolith worn into a hollow shell and overrun detritus and decay; the hammer and sickle motifs of a bygone era matching the tools he held loosely in each of his hands that would never reach the comfort of that distant shadow of the modern world. Like the reflection of a face worn beyond all recognition of youth, but still somehow the only constant in a life of turmoil he couldn't bear to look away, to walk away from the harrowing sight.
These fields of grass would never be set foot in by any who valued their life when such people could be found anywhere remotely nearby, like he himself in the times when he'd worshipped the Monolith. He'd had complete faith in it's power then, but now cut off completely from whatever it was that ensorcelled him in it's grip it seemed to clasp him to it's bosom even tighter, letting him pass through the deathtrap of rippling air pockets and radiation like a rookie with bolts stumbling through their first anomaly. Just thinking about the power that thing wielded over every aspect of him was painful, but it numbed the damage all over his body from fighting his way out of the Zaton swamps in lieu of the now empty automatic painkiller-injectors installed in his exoskeleton. He'd patched whatever damage he could on his suit and been avoiding the radiation pockets on autopilot more than anything, that click of the geiger counter was a sixth sense to any old stalker, but caring about how strong a dose was building in his body was something he'd managed to let go of.
The sun gently tracked it's way across the sky, glistening through the patchy clouds to heat him with the occasional warm ray. The on and off days fighting in the stormclouds and rain had filled him with the dark heat of adrenaline and blood-pumping blood-letting combat, but as they ended the clammy cold of old sweat and exhaustion fell in, halted only by the crackle of a fire and charred meat from slain beast to propel him through it again the next day. Now though standing here in the open, watching it's warm caress pass over the serene fields of grass and woodland that belied the danger was like being transported back to childhood; simpler, happier, carefree days of laughter, painting with his friends in school, frolicking in the streams and bathing in the sun. So much pain had followed, but now for the first time it didn't feel important. He could feel those happy times with that childlike innocence one again, even if it was that relaxation at seeing the end of the pain in sight.
At some point, he ended up on the far side of the large clearing before the tattered walls of the plant, suddenly faced a solid barrier. Finding an entry was trivial, and he pushed himself in a last effort up the banks of one of the big cooling pits to kneel upon the rise in the soft afternoon sun, the two halves of his life sitting all around him on either side in harmony. He'd meditated during those lost times under the thrall of the Monolith but now he was able to finally do it no longer as Sickle, or even Evgeniy, but as a free man, free of obligation to family or friends or comrades or magic rock, free from the past and free from the future, free to let his mind clear and let the scars that had built up on his mind start to heal for the first time.
It was getting late, the sun casting long shadows from the trees on the Limansk side of the river down onto the makeshift camp on the edge of the Red Forest. Once they'd eventually stopped gossiping like schoolgirls Hog had managed to pull them all together into retreating back into the ruined entrance of the tunnel north of their camp, mostly sealed with a metal wall but for a single man-sized doorway. A dark tunnel full of old trucks and APC's wasn't an ideal place to hole up, a classic lair for snorks or bloodsuckers, but with him and Degtayrev taking point sweeping it it looked a risk worth taking. Strelok had insisted he'd bombed the place back in the day, rendering it impassable.
It was nervewracking work, none of them were in great shape or well stocked on ammo but their lucky stars were all aligned. Every shadow or indistinct shape was just detritus, no sound other than the quiet murmuring of their fellows in the distance and their own footsteps on the dusty concrete. As their paced it's eerie hallways, lighting up all the ruined vehicles, the darkness stopped being that sinister malignance waiting to sink claws into you the second you lost your focus, and took on a more mournful quality. So much of the Zone was a tragic relic of a bygone era that had been swept under the carpet of history. With the danger it posed now, barely a soul would ever be able to see the remains left from those days that marked one of it's darkest hours.
Hog was taking one last survey of the tunnel noting the anomaly positions, all the irradiated heaps and hot waste trucks when he noticed the small rectangle of darkness recessed into the righthand side of the tunnel. His heart suddenly burst into overtime, any stalker still breathing knew there was no such thing as jumping the gun, and his rifle was pointed at it before he even had time to consider what it was. As the long seconds dragged on and nothing had tried to disembowl him, he cautiously advanced towards it. As he moved closer, avoiding an errant sparkler anomaly flashing from a damaged lamp to reach it, his torchlight illuminated a small antechamber with a further square of darkness in the side.
He hissed to Degtayrev for backup, wishing more than ever he had his mercs back with him he could trust to positon and cover him properly. The underground areas of the Zone had a terrible reputation, even in comparison to the surface horrors. They'd charged double for having anything to do with them back when he was operating. He didn't take his eyes off that deeper opening, letting the addition of new torchlight let him know how Degtayrev was moving into position behind him.
"Looks like your friend wasn't completely sure after all. I expected better."
"He's lived up to the reputation so far merc."
"Cover me?"
He let the torchlight behind him shift to the right to illuminate the left of the antechamber and entrance to the small tunnel within before he decisively swept to the left inside, revealing nothing but dusty concrete walls and fuseboxes.
"Clear."
Swiftly turning about, he pointed his torch directly down the tunnel. Cables and brackets lined the walls in a ramrod straight corridor that led featurelessly into the darkness beyond the limit of the torchlight. Nothing moved. His heart slowed it's thudding a tad, it didn't leave any nasty dark corners for things to hide in and surprise them.
"Get Strelok, see if he knows where this goes. Could be a nice backdoor exit if things go south."
He stood there, staring into darkness, stewing over the irritation of the danger one little piece of misinformation could have caused to avoid the fear that he'd almost missed it himself on their sweep. He couldn't afford to get soft, not now. The irregular footsteps echoing towards him signalled Strelok's limping approach,
"What is this Marked One? Your memory getting hazy in your old age?"
"Last time I went through this tunnel was before I got taken out in the plant and woke up on a death truck. Not long before. I'm amazed anything is still left in me after that." He drew up next to Hog, unslinging his rifle and kneeling against the wall to rest his bad leg. "Get some stuff to patch this will you, we need to talk."
"Too right." muttered Hog as he relaxed and worked his way back out into the main tunnel to look for barrels and metal scrap to bar the corridor. There wasn't a shortage, but it wasn't easy finding bits that didn't make his counter click. Upon his return Strelok ushered him over, letting him sit down beside him.
"If I had to guess, I'd say this must lead to Southern Pripyat, like the main road tunnel. You're right to be damn careful, but it's so small and looks untouched. We'd be going out of the frying pan and into the fire, but it might be a way out. We barricade it lightly now, but leave the bits so we can quickly swap it to cover our retreat if need be."
"My thoughts exactly."
Strelok lowered his voice, letting Hog's work on beginning hauling the scrap cover his echoing words, "Now onto the more important matters. Me and Alex here have been sent to clear up this mess by the higher ups in the big land. An offer we couldn't refuse. Now I don't think it's possible, and I doubt he does either but we're stuck in a shit-tip between a rock and a hard place. Those mutant girls, aliens, whatever, throw a spanner in the works; no doubt there's some big money to be made out in the big land for getting them out. The fact your group is a load of babushkas that don't leave the base just adds insult to injury."
"They're whiney shits aren't they? Unlike the big boys with balls that died back up north, those traders and techies didn't believe that standing ground against the hordes of mutants was a good idea and paid me to help them take their chances making a run for it. Not sure how it's managed to pay off so far but that's that. Honestly they're not so bad and without Nitro and Cardan we'd have run out of working guns by this point. Nimble's got connections, might be able to help us slip under the radar if we ever make it out alive."
"The question remains what the fuck we're doing next. I'm with you that getting out alive as fast as possible is the only sane option, but that's easier said than done. We went in via the cordon, which was under seige daily. It could have easily fallen since we left, they looked on their last legs. Apparently the mutants are really bad in areas we stalkers used to populate."
"They're fucking everywhere, yeah. It's scary shit." Hog headed out for a minute or two to haul in more supplies before continuing, "They were definitely heading in swarms to overwhelm all the bases, but in the quiet areas we've managed to dodge most of the heat. I was going to haul them to Forester's tower for a proper place to rest and plan our next move but that seems out now, I'm not trying my luck in that fucking forest again. I figured that Freedom and Duty attracting everything was probably going to make the next leg even nastier. Wasn't sure what other route we could take."
"We got here via the back road out of the old factory by the ecologist bunker at Yantar. Whole area had been dead for days. Apparently the army pulled out of their base south of there so those two big compounds were pretty deserted too."
"And the Garbage?"
"No go apparently, Alex's contact at the Cordon sent us through a tunnel into the southern swamps. Quiet as the grave until a hundred odd zombies just waltzed out of the mists."
"Serious? Shit man."
Strelok sat quietly for a minute as Hog stacked up more detrius on the barricade. All the information channels had gone dark, but hearing the dark tales that confirmed their fears was still jarring. Eventually Hog broke the silence,
"I can't imagine we'll have much chance getting this lot out quietly. We got away the horde at the Skadovsk as quickly as possible and still had to deal with quite a few stragglers and wandering beasts."
"I wouldn't want to risk backtracking myself. We were wounded, I'm sure we left a scent trail that turned a few noses even if they didn't turn up while we were there. How are you doing for supplies?"
"Crap. The purple one literally cannot eat meat. She violently retches at the thought. If it wasn't for the black girl having some kind of sixth sense for working out edible plants to slow her rampage through our food stocks we'd be starving more than we already are. Thankfully Cardan knows his way around a mutant carcass. It's been really rough trying to stay fuelled. Ammo stocks won't more than a skirmish now, we're down to..."
He continued rattling through the details of what ammo was left and what they had weapons to use, but Strelok was just staring mutely down the corridor to Pripyat in contemplation, only half aware of what he was saying.
Battleborn had spent the day frantically trying to organise whatever surplies and ponies he needed for this fresh expedition into this Tartarian land that the humans lived in. No shortage of ponies were hesitant to volunteer to save their Princess, but he needed the best and they seemed to have their heads screwed on tight enough to pick up on how few had returned from their last foray. Traditional scouting methods seemed out of the question, even the experts who'd been trained to deal with harsh enviroments in case they ever ended up deep in the Everfree Forest were out of their depth here, he needed to cover them with small elite combat force to hope to tackle whatever monsters lurked out there. It took calling in all his favours and even reduced him to bargaining with a small chunk of his will, but by sundown he'd managed to rustle up half a dozen of the elite Royal Guards that did stints protecting the Princesses themselves while not employed in honing their skills or as the pointed tip of Equestria's military.
A lot of the pegasi he'd brought with him had died, in even greater numbers than those on the ground. As much as he was loathe to admit it, air superiority might have to be ceded to a natural enviroment of all things. Whatever those stormclouds that plagued the place were deadly in the extreme, and alongside the weather those same near invisible freakish abominations of natural law that could burst into flame, electrocute without warning or pull a pony into shreds were there in the sky too. They'd learned the hard way how much more difficult it was to avoid them when you didn't have the ground close behind them to see them coming and the wind in your ears stopping you hearing the eerie sounds they emitted quietly alerting you to their presence.
Lying in bed his mind refused to let him sleep. The whole affair had been hushed up so far, but rumors were beginning to spread from the castle with the escaped aliens weeks ago, and now more and more loyal guardsponies failing to return home. The one-off encounter in Ponyville was written off as one of the many freak occurances that happened there involving the Elements and the talk had died down, but before long there didn't seem to be much to stop it rising again into a tsunami that would sweep through Canterlot and the news. Everything hinged on him getting Luna and the Elements with her home safely. As he tossed and turned through the small hours, he didn't think he'd ever be able to rest easy until he did.
The affair with the poltergeist had managed to lift some of the terror that gripped Yar, kneeling alone in the dark of the stairwell. By the time he'd come to his senses the emission had already passed through, the faint rumble echoing away in the distance. It took time, but he managed to crawl his way up to the mouth of the doorway, leaning out of sight behind the heavy metal doorframe. Staring out at the receding stormclouds all the terror was gone, just silent contemplation remained. It felt all the fear had overloaded his system and broken his ability to take in the gravity of the situation.
He sat like that for a while, musing on the fading flashes. They were far away now.
Sitting there things came back slowly, avoiding the two near-death experiences within the last couple of hours, instead looking out to the future following the storm. The emission clearly rolled out far north too, and everything beyond him was uncharted by stalkers. He'd simply heard nothing about whatever was out there, not even rumors carried from outside the Zone. If he was going to try heading out north he'd have nowhere to to shelter the next time an emission came in. Maybe he'd find a house, maybe full of bloodsuckers. Sitting and staring out at the route he'd hoped would lead him out of hell his hopes curled up and died.
Not only that but his rifle and backpack were dumped somewhere in the grass out there, along the side of that disturbing lightning-rod hill. Sitting here staring at the landscape infront of him the instinctual fear returned. Those huge channels carved out of the dirt as if by the hands of titans poked through the gnarled trees. The bloodstains and corpses were things he'd seen before in his time in the Zone, but if ever he was cavalier about death it was really coming home to him now.
The prospect of having to trek back and forth through the grass out there like some rookie was beyond anger or fustration, even fear. A cold numbness had settled through him. He'd had real hope somehow but this was like a wave of cold water hitting him. The mutants would have taken shelter too though. Perhaps even in the depths behind him.... no time like the present.
It was do or die really, maybe and, so without letting himself deliberate any longer he forced himself to his feet, doing whatever he could to ignore the weariness in his limbs and aching joints, the terror, the future. The wind had picked up in the aftermath of the emission, scattered clouds remaining trailing across the sky, throwing the place into a patchwork of shade and sunlight. Just placing foot after foot ahead of him, alternating between scanning the horizon for danger and ground for whatever he'd dropped on the way. Every sense was on overdrive, like a man suddenly dropped naked in an alien wilderness.
There were hermits in the Zone, a tiny handful that eschewed weapons altogether in exploring it's dangers. Most shunned them, something they were quite happy with. Tales said the Zone knew the ill-intentions of stalkers, and the mutants and anomalies were punishment for it. The more sensible ones though, from those that talked longer to these mad recluses said that not carrying weapons seemed to fundamentally alter how they took in the Zone, everything from the obvious decisions to how their eyes took in it's lands and ears heard it's sounds.
Most of these campfire tales shared over vodka were met with a healthy dose of skepticism, but now forced into their shoes so brutally Yar felt every tiny detail that he'd learned (and forgotten) over the years returning in how he assessed the paths he would have taken; where the anomalies might lie invisible in wait; the kinds of terrain mutants prefered to rest or look for food, the subtlest of whispers on the wind betraying the various low hums and rumbles of unnatural activity. Every sense was screaming for information like eyes trying to seek light in a cave, flooding his conscious and blocking every other petty distraction. He'd heard in the more frank discussions late at light, when the tales of bravado were finished and the older ones started to let down their guard, that some stalkers went into what was almost a meditative state or a trance when they went out into the Zone. He'd never been one that had made sense of that approach truly until now. He was far more experienced than almost all he met in the latter days, but even so he'd marvelled at how some could truly survive out in the wilderness beyond all reason. Experiencing this heightened level of awareness with his own eyes felt like one of those great mysteries had unlocked itself.
He was so focused on his task and surroundings that it felt like sleepwalking as carefully picked through the wooded grasslands ruined by anomalous activity, unconsciously finding safe vantage points to seek out his backpack left nearer his position. It was a green needle in a green haystack, but he wasn't even that surprised when he managed to pick it out without the shadows lengthening overmuch. The way the grass lay trampled by his running footsteps and unnatural depression it created within gave it away in ways he'd never have appreciated back in his freedom days. For a brief moment he wondered if the sensation was like unlocking that hunter-gatherer spirit buried deep within modern mankind.
He wended his way towards the pack lying discarded on the floor, instinctively going to throw it over his shoulders and fasten the belt before checking himself. The next step was even more dangerous, not a time to make the same mistake, or forget the lesson he'd just learned. Settling for slinging one strap over a shoulder, he continued as before, heading on round the hill in a sauntering but purposeful manner. He'd thought entering some kind of trance would slow you down to mutant food but the pressing fear of death with no way to defend yourself forced you to keep moving forward as steadily as possible without rushing, constantly adjusting to the waves of sights and smells and sounds.
Cresting the ridge that revealed the distant tunnel he'd sought out earlier was rattling. With every step he'd found it harder and harder to stop the alertness turn to real debilitating terror of that piercing agony in mind that could be lurking in a controller's misshapen head appearing over the rustling grass. As the tunnel crept further into view, revealing the rest of the clearing leading down the hill towards it he let out a sigh of relief at the serene landscrape. The only things moving were the leaves of the living trees in the distance moving gently in the wind, along with a handful of ripples obscuring one side of the tunnel opening. The relatively bare hillside didn't offer much help locating his rifle though.
It took some careful thought looking back at the way he came to work out how he would have headed for the tunnel before- directly, in a hurry to escape the emission, to get a sense of where to search. He felt awfully exposed, even if this place seemed almost untouched by stalkers in comparison to the rest of the Zone, those were probably all servants of the Monolith. Where before time seemed to drift past unnoticed, his attention entirely on his surroundings, now walking back and forth across the hillside felt like it was taking an age.
He had to restrain himself from sprinting towards it and cradling it in his arms when he spotted it in the dirt, even more so to leave it in it's bedraggled and mudstained state as he slung it over his shoulder, considering where had some hope of a future for him left. As much as it pained him, the only way seemed to towards the colossal slabs of concrete breaking the horizon to the south.
They were fully settled into their camp in the road tunnel entrance now, a queer bunch, gun-nuts nattering away that spent too little time firing them, reserved veterans like water-worn stones that had spent too much, and somehow women with inhuman skin sitting there openly. Strelok felt like an empty husk in comparison. Even the three of the others that could handle themselves weren't any kind of replacement for his old friends, Ghost and Fang, Guide and Doctor. They'd all become stalkers second, by necessity for Hog when the proper mercenary jobs started drying up in favour of grabbing whatever could be had in the collapse, when the scientific efforts had stopped being the role of the uninvolved observer for Kulgrov, when the brass had sent him to do their dirty work for Alex. They were highly capable at stalker-ing, surviving in the Zone, but for Strelok and his late comrades the Zone was really the entire world, surviving, thriving and learning it's carefully guarded secrets the meaning behind their life.
Even for Alexander, who he'd gotten along with better than most stalkers and was a real rarity, intelligent and a fierce fighter but with the sense to submit to the Zone's foibles, wasn't really the same. He took it in and learned it's ways better than most others he'd ever met in his travels but there was still an other, an outside to the Zone's inside. He'd gone along with his assessment when they'd been sent here, mindful of the threat of returning unsuccessfully but now he was back here, deep in the wreckage of humanity's pride in it's knowledge and control of the world, the outside felt like a pale shadow. Ever since he'd set eyes on it's stark wonders and dangers, pulling the fantastical baubles and artifacts from the unnatural disturbances and telling his tales like an enthusiastic kid to Doc, nothing else in life had the power to replace it.
No matter how much he tried, he couldn't bring himself to take the prospect of running the gauntlet to escape it's clutches seriously. Heading deep into the Zone to solve this latest disturbance that had set off fickle temper had stoked something in him that he hadn't felt since he'd last set foot in the power plant's grounds well before Operation Fairway had failed and brought Alex to the Zone. Dying trying to escape with a bunch of half-competent fools slowing him down just to live a quiet life of hiding from the powers that be in the big land just felt wrong now he was sitting here.
Sitting here watching them chat about heading back, searching for that mystery undiscovered by any other man felt more appealing, no matter how suicidal. The other stalkers, the small-timers and career men, even the thrill-seekers and crazies had said it was suicidal to break through the brainscorcher and reach it the first time. When it was there for the taking it stopped mattering. He just regretted not having those pillars of Ghost and Fang to back him up this time.
Commander Battleborn stepped out into the gentle winds blowing over the rolling hills of the terrifying place these humans called home. Every time the spell flashed before him and tugged him through whatever lay between worlds he marvelled at how a land so innocuous and often serene could be so deadly. These undulating grasslands and forests could be a lovely place to live if not for the hundred ways death could creep up on you. He'd seen and heard reports of a number of long abandoned structures, many used until recently in their derelict state, though most clearly not built with fortification in mind so perhaps it once was indeed a peaceful place.
Flashes of light and fizzing crackles accompanied more ponies stepping out of the air behind him, proud mares and stallions in matte grey steel armor loaded with heavy saddlebags of provisions. The gravity of his enquiries had produced top-notch supplies and equiptment for his party, tailored for serious action in enemy territory where the standard issue gold-barded armor and weapons designed for intimidation and to boost morale of their allies was a nuisance that stood out like a sore hoof. They drew into formation behind him, looking out over the alien land for the first time. Captain Indomitable Will, a hulking great blue earth pony was his second in command, stood to his right while Stormchaser, their only pegasus scout, stood tall and lithe to his left. Behind them was Exothaum, their battlemage unicorn, a fairly short ruddy orange stallion with a temper more fiery than his yellow hair, and Granite Core, a leviathan of a stallion who'd inherited the grey colouring, physicality and taciturn nature of his old Pie and Apple clan heritage. Bringing up the rear were the bright pink mare Twinkling Veil, their most versatile and knowledgable unicorn of upper-class breeding and the rather pathetic-looking Dirt, a brown earth stallion who'd been recruited by Celestia herself from one of the reclusive Everfree pony tribes in years gone past and an unparalleled tracker. He seemed to have no cutie mark on his flanks, though many joked that it was indistinguishable from the rest of him, and though he looked like a scrawny runt with awful grooming at all times his lanky frame belied astounding endurance.
They were among the best he could assemble, but given how he'd cherrypicked them from all over Celestia's personal elite guard they'd most likely had little to no experience working alongside each other in the field. Only Indomitable and Twinkling Veil had been chatting when he'd mustered them on the other side of the portal, with the rest standing apart aloof or lost in mental preparation. He was frankly quite surprised that none of the others had made a formal complaint about being assigned alongside Dirt, given his particularly prickly and insular nature towards anyone but the Princesses. At least they were taking the mission seriously.
Once the spluttering crackles of the portal stopped as it closed behind them, he launched into finishing his briefing. He'd given the structure of their orders and the background details of what to watch out for, but none of them had experienced this desolate and deadly alien world before. They needed to see it with their own eyes before they could really understand the magnitude of the task ahead of them.
"As you know, we're here to locate the Princess and Elements who left to study this land in greater detail, posing in disguise as natives. We haven't heard from them since, and that's why we're standing here now. As for here, these rolling hills you can see ahead of us are only region we've scouted thoroughly in previous expeditions. To our knowledge, they're not here and they probably never have been."
The grassy wasteland looked much like it had done when he'd left before, the hills dotted with concrete detrius concealing ruined wooden homes and camps of yet more collected scrap. In the distance the towers of the large settlement that had collapsed before his eyes poked above the horizon, below the rising sun. Behind them lay a long series of cliffs, skirting round the undulating terrain like a fracture had forced them up from the land.
"I want you all to be absolutely alert at all times when we're not camped together. Even when you know what to look for, these strange 'anomaly' magical features that dot the landscape can still be almost invisible. I've had the grave misfortune of having to watch one poor colt being crushed into a gory pulp before my eyes and I don't want to see what else they can do. You've all seen the briefings, but I'll be pointing out them whenever I can. Keep tightly packed when we're moving until we've had more time on the ground to stop the dangers, and no sudden moves or spells unless you think lives are in danger. Don't hesitate though if anything seems wrong, death can come in seconds. When it said this place makes the Everfree look like a walk in the palace gardens, it wasn't exaggerating. Any first questions?"
"What exactly gives these anomalies away? The report was useless and so was your description." Dirt was tactless and straight to the point, as expected.
"The most reliable thing is the sound, anything from a low bassy rumble of the gravity fluxes to the soft crackling pops of the green alien chemical ones. There's nothing really like it, and they all have their own distinct sounds. The chemical ones are obvious, bright green, but there's three really nasty types that are hard to see. The occasional lightning arcs dancing around in the air will flair up and fry you if you get too close. A strong heathaze is the only indication of different ones that will errupt into a pillar of flame, and also fry you. The gravitational flux ones are the worst, sounding like a deeper pitched wind and only visible from faint ripples in the air or odd vortexes of leaves or dirt. Those pouches of scrap metal I issued you are absolutely vital. We've heard first-hand reports of the locals using these to throw into the anomalies, making them flair up to reveal their location. They would apparently toss one far ahead, walk to it, and then toss another. Don't be stingy in using them. As I said, it will make more sense when we see one. We'll find one nearby somewhere safe so you get your bearings."
He paused for a second.
"If that's all I'll continue. As you can see, the whole place seems deserted." As if to spite him, a lone dog-like shape loped over a hill crest far in the distance. "We've watched as the human population here collapsed under the pressure from the threat of hordes of monsters that were mustering in these valleys just a couple of weeks ago beseiging them, if such a word is fitting for what looks like mostly unintelligent unspeaking beasts. Once they'd worn down and finally decimated the humans the horde seemed to disperse, heading mostly south. Our last known location of Princess Luna is far to the north, so we'll be heading that way."
"If Luna was never here, and presumably entered closer to her last known location, why didn't we venture from there?" Interjected Twinkling Veil. Astute as always, this was one of the key omissions from the briefings he'd provided them, since so much of what they knew about the alien world was under need-to-know status.
"Excellent observation. As you can see, we had somewhat reliable information about this location, and judged it a safe muster point. We got called to the location Princess Luna set out using the tracking magic crafted between the Princesses and Twilight Sparkle to find the first expedition party. When the group, lead by Princess Celestia and the rest of the Elements appeared into this world we found themselves forced to take shelter from a deadly storm, forcing us into a building filled with some of the native humans. They attacked the group in shock at seeing us arrive, and killed a number of her personal guards in a matter of seconds. Once peace had been established we learned the location we had arrived was on the outskirts of the largest abandoned settlement around, a city half-reclaimed by the surrounding woods.
After we'd returned to consider with some of the natives, who told us about the dangers of the area, we sent the next exploration party with the Princess back to the same location because of it's tactical value in reaching a safer location somewhere to the north-east to assess, and to avoid them accidentally ending up somewhere even more deadly. From what we've learned about the land most of our magical methods for getting here are incredibly risky unless we know a large safe area to aim for, it was pure luck not to get shredded on entry for the first two parties. They had a native guide who helped the previous expedition to advise us and lead them so we thought it was the best course at the time. What second-hand information we have from the humans puts this city somewhere directly north of us. From the results of our scouting and other info from the humans the only reasonable route seems to be to the east, to where the first exploration party went up north."
"A direct route is out of the question? Have we investigated it?" Stormchaser chimed in.
"We lost several scouts, both land and airbased exploring the forest nearby, and barely touched it's boundaries. It's surrounding us to the north and east as well, and extends for miles. The eastern section is a little more tame, the radiation levels aren't so high and while we've had reports of monsters, our intel from the humans said that entering it east of the huge metal towers on a hill north-east of us was tatamount to suicide from the tales they had to tell. It's very air had apparently destroyed the minds of some of their friends in front of their eyes."
Exothaum couldn't help himself chuckle at that.
"I'm deadly serious. We didn't take it seriously at first. You see that?"
He pointed a hoof at a strange metal shape lying in a bowl of hills and cliffs not far away just north of them. It was a long bulbous rounded shape with glass windows in it, all sorts of small protrusions and a huge set of metal blades in a cross attached to the top.
"We sent two ponies down to investigate it after reporting it untouched by all but a few shambling humans that looked braindead and wasting away. As they got closer, apparently a headache started to build and before they knew it both were delerious with pain. One managed to stagger back up the hill and is currently still hospitalised in Canterlot recovering mentally. We watched the other writhing around in the dirt clutching his head before he devolved into jerky spasms and died in front of our eyes in less than a minute. If you look carefully you can spot some of his scattered bones and rusted armor still there on the hillside. Using magic trying to save him sent another unicorn into hospital from the feedthrough of whatever was happening to his mind."
He turned around to start their trek along the outskirts of this dread place before heading into the forest hidden behind the rocky cliffs and none of them had the same determination and confidence in their eyes that had been there as they stepped through the portal. Exothaum and Twinkle Veil looked particularly shaken, and not even the stoic Granite could prevent himself betraying signs of fear.
"We're not in Equestria any more fillies. It's time to start the hardest mission you'll ever face in your lives."
Hog woke the rest of the mismatched party early, as the suns rays began to creep in tiny lines through the gaps in the metal barrier closing off the front of the tunnel they were using for shelter. Strelok had let him know of his intentions to leave the rest of them. Despite the man's legendary status he couldn't say he minded too much. His leg was still injured badly, despite having some kind of artifact stashed away in his pack he kept strapped to it throughout the night. Anyone slowing them down like a cripple would be a bigger burden than any extra shooter could make up for. As they slowly came to, emerging from whatever rags and trash they could scrounge for to curl up under for the night, he heard Alex heatedly arguing with Strelok in hoarse whispers. He finished his round having to nudge Twilight to stop her falling back asleep where she lay. Damn women had kept him up half the night crying herself to sleep.
"No time to waste, Princess. We don't want to be hanging around here long enough for all the day's predators to wake up and go hunting. You know what they say, you don't have to outrun the bloodsucker, just the poor fool next to you."
That had her scrambling up scrambling up and hastily packing all her assorted possessions and trinkets to remind her of home in her backpack. He turned to leave her be, still unable to stop his eyes rolling at the obsessive care she took in ordering and doublechecking everything. As good as discipline was, too much was a chain that would eventually bind you to your death. He strolled onwards past the rusting APCs and trucks towards the small doorway in the metal sheeting blocking the tunnel entrance. Nitro and Zecora had pulled away most of the barrels barricading it and Nitro had his AK poking out, slowly sweeping back and forth as she opened the door further.
"How's it looking?"
"Clear so far, sounds quiet. Not that that's saying much since we can hardly see into the forest or further down the road from here."
"Take point in the tower with Zecora. I'll stay here and cover you. Once you're up I'll get the rest of those sorry shits ready to go."
As Nitro, then Zecora jogged quickly across the remains of the campsite they'd spent previous evening to the watchtower stairs, a nasal whiny cry pierced the cool morning silence. He stepped out as quickly as his exoskeleton would let him, swinging his rifle around left towards the forest entrance. It sounded unmistakeably like a snork, but whereever it was it hadn't rounded the opening in the forest park's ruined wall.
"Snorks in the forest, 50 meters and closing!" came Nitro's cry a second later. More than one was starting to look serious.
Hog quickly paced across towards the watchtower, slinging his rifle. There was too little ammo left to waste it spraying at fast mutants like this.
"Toss me your shotgun Zecora! The shells too!"
He just managed to catch it, Zecora's throw left a lot to be desired, and ignored the box of shells landing with a clatter a couple of meters from him. He'd barely got his hands around the grip as the first one rounded the side of the truck partially blocking the forest entrance. It made to charge forwards, but both barrels being swiftly emptied into it halted it in it's tracks, blowing bloody lumps from it's shoulders and back. In it's inhuman motions though the damn thing's head was left unscathed. As he hastily ejected the empty cartridges it dodged back into cover, prompting more inhuman wailing and snuffling. He knew he had seconds at most before another could pop out, and without hesitation turned to reach for the rest of the shells lying scattered next to the box.
As he dived forwards, bending over away from the danger to reach downwards he heard the door clang open as more shots rang out. A shriek pierced his ears a moment before he was bowled over by a snork slamming into his back before tumbling off roughly shedding blood like a fountain. It was still moving, and he threw heavy fist knocking it backwards away from him. More shots rattled above his head, both shooter and target hidden behind him as he scrambled on the floor for the shotgun shells. More inhuman screaming filled the air along with the gunshots as he got his fingers around a shell, no time to be greedy, and pushed it in the open breach. He was on the floor and vulnerable, and the snork was recovering, throwing it's emaciated gory body onto him as he pushed the breach closed. The struggle was brief, no more than two seconds, lost in the gunfire still not blowing the thing off him. With his superior size, weight and strength it didn't take long for him to find a position to jam the shotgun in it's lower chest before pulling the trigger. With a fierce blast it's torso exploded chunks of flesh and bone outwards, propelling the mangled corpse off of him.
As he recovered, pulling more shells into his left hand and turning to face the opening, two more snorks lay dead, brought low by the bursts of fire from Nitro in the tower above him and Alex leaning out the doorway. Before he could really get his bearings, another bounded round the truck, heading for him. As fast as he tried, the shells didn't go in the open breach fast enough, and it got within a couple of meters before a burst of gunfire clipped it's head slamming into a bloody slide along the floor.
A flash of motion caught his eye as he started to pull himself to his feet, and instinctively he rolled away onto his back, narrowly dodging the fifth one's long leap from the truck, leaving it to collide with the floor momentarily before it rolled through the motion and carrying on past him below the tower, covered from the rest of the gunfire to turn and make it's next pass. Sitting up and snapping the shotgun shut, he aimed carefully and lined up it's head perfectly as it slowed in the turn, blowing the thing clean off with both barrels.
Adrenaline fueled his hasty scramble to his feet, now successful, and it took a moment for him to hear past the hammering in his heart to the deafening silence now reigning the morning between the river and the forest. He stood there, scanning the opening, desperately listening for more noises betraying further attacks.
Nitro's voice broke the silence.
"Looks clear now. Nothing moving out there."
Hog lowered the shotgun from his sightline, though not resting quite yet. He was inclined to agree with Nitro though. The commotion would have attracted anything else.
Alex emerged from the tunnel door, rifle at the ready, followed by Twilight and Cardan carrying both Hog's and his own rucksacks. The Major carried on past him, surveying both sides of the river, before turning back to the rest of the group.
"Let's get out of here. I'll take point and scout ahead."
Without much more fanfare, they quickly redistrubuted their belongings to each other and collected up the fallen shotgun shells before hastily moving further up the road towards a set of large rocks resting by the side of the road just before it crested a small hill. Strelok wasn't anywhere to be seen, and while the rest of the stalkers took the hint from seeing the man's crippled leg the night before, Twilight had asked briefly before being told coldly he'd no longer be travelling with them. They cowered behind it in silence, whatever cheer and camaraderie they'd woken up with gone now the sobering prospect of a sudden attack from any direction was burned fresh into their minds. Crouching there, huddled up close, they shared heavy looks as Alex continued on over the rise. He was hunched low, rifle at the ready, but no rifle or mutant barked it's response to his advance, and he quickly motioned for Hog to take his place as he hurried down out of sight.
Cresting the hill, Hog saw the main entrance to the forest down in the distance, a rusty old gate and sign broke the mottled yellow brick wall, whatever path leading to it long overgrown. A bus shelter, filled with a handful of what looked like the torn rags of long-dead bodies. The air rippled in places further along the road, where it was visible between the bushes breaking through it.
Alex stopped on the road parallel to the forest gate, kneeling in the dirt with his rifle raised to the opening. With a quick arm gesture, he waved Hog on, who carefully led the rest of the group down past him. Hog unslung his SGI550 again, taking up Alex's position, letting him retake the front. He'd never been an artifact hunter, no sense in being prideful and taking the job navigating the anomalies. Even so, he couldn't stop his heartate slowly building as he knelt there, staring out into the softly whispering red boughs of the forest, straining his ears for anything beyond the footsteps and chink of bolts hitting the tarmac.
It felt like an age before Cardan tapped him on the shoulder, signalling him to take the rear as they followed the trail of bolts zigzagging along the road into the distance, where Alex stood peering round the shell of a bus veiled in morning mist.
On a dodgy leg, the featureless long tunnel felt unending to Strelok as he limped gamely onwards. His AK was raised at the ready, but nothing moved in the dark ahead of him but the shudder of his headlamp. He'd been stewing in his thoughts the night before, contemplating his return to the power plant, but now he felt strange actually setting off alone again, into the jaws of death. He was calm, in a sense, though if anything more empty. The memories of walking through the shadow of that colossal concrete structure were coming back more to him now he was now left truly alone again. As he zoned in and out of focus, staring at that bobbing lamplight, he couldn't help himself. Every now and again, he swore he could hear it, again, the promise of the monolith, barely more than the faintest gravelly, low whisper;
Come to me.
More of his unending syncopated steps, echoing unchallenged through the darkness, as the meagre lamplight bobbed up and down,
As the minutes faded into each other more and more, and fragments of those brutal facias looming above him and the Monolithian forces doing battle came and went,
Come to me.
When it was done, and he stood there when silence reigned once more over the forecourt to the power plant, he looked out over the horizon towards the circling ravens and highrise towers of Pripyat poking above the trees, on the one view in the Zone who's skyline was not dominated by that imposing grey block and tower which now stood directly behind him, with the entrance to the Sarcophagus, at last,
Strelok emerged from the cramped service exit manhole into the damp grey mist of the Pripyat morning. His leg was still aching as he pushed himself up to standing, hardly feeling ready to sprint for safety at a moment's notice. At least the damp feeling of the fog from the river had pushed away the hypnotic visions. As he let the refreshing cool air fill his lungs, the sound of his breath seemed to dominate his hearing. After the echoing footsteps of the tunnel the ghost city was as silent as the grave it was.
The indistinct shadows of imposing buildings loomed in the mist, and his only bearing to go on was the weak circle of the sun pressing through the cloud. He stood there couple of minutes, letting his leg rest and mentally preparing himself for the next leg of the journey. This side of Pripyat was quite a way from the old Monolithian strongholds around the city centre and one of the most isolated and desolate parts of the Zone, full of powerful anomalies. He'd walked the length of it before without seeing a single living creature, but out there, in the buildings and stalking the streets, were some of the most deadly mutants you'd ever encounter. The chances were any stalkers still in these parts would be equally as dangerous.
He savoured a final deep breath of fresh air before pulling the perspex visor hood of his SEVA suit over his head and walking carefully out into the unknown.
Even though the gently rolling hills of woodland extended far to the horizon, broken in places by a variety of strange alien structures, Stormchaser had never felt so restricted while in the air. The commander had explained to her personally about the dangers these "anomalies" could present when in the air, where the wind masked the sounds they gave off, leaving only scant traces of unnatural ripples or veins of lightning betraying the deadly things that had claimed the lives of many of the scouts who'd been here before her.
She awkwardly beat her wings in a half-hover, trying to drift slowly forwards just above the tips of the trees following the road North they were taking. All her experience with covert flight hadn't been this restrictive, the idea of all sorts of invisible dangers in the air was like something out of Discordian nightmare. It was certainly the first time the intensive extra flight training she'd needed half a decade ago to graduate into the Princess' personal guards was being put to the test.
The rust-red foliage below her, not unlike the autumnal trees back home at first glance, held no rest or refuge. Apparently the forest was far worse than the grassy hills the original exploratory teams had been based from, though it was hard to say how in detail given how few of the ponies sent to investigate it came back. Even so, when she peered closely through the leaves she could see sinister tendrils of dark ivy hanging from lots of the gnarled boughs, apparently covered in corrosive slime. She wasn't willing to test that out.
And the strange snuffling sounds that occasionally broke the quiet rustle set her teeth on edge. She could see the indistinct shapes moving fast below her at times, long-legged and leaping around in the gloom below the canopy, but they seemed to quickly lose interest and retreat for a while before returning once more.
She paused her slow flight, her wings starting to ache from slowly hovering continuously for well over an hour now, trying to gauge how far she'd come ahead of the rest of the party by following the cleft the road made through the thinning trees at the edge of the forest. The damn place had little in the way of landmarks nearby otherwise. A couple of miles north a blocky brick tower broke the treeline, in what could be a clearing, and further to the north-east a whole town seemed to be resting between two hills on the other side of the river, but between them and where they'd exited the valley that morning was just endless forest. She could roughly make out the curve of the road from the gaps in the trees as it snaked back, and estimated she must be about a half-mile or so ahead of the rest of them. No magical flare had been sent up though, so they must still be progressing fine.
Turning and hovering down closer to the tops of the trees by the side of the road, she stared along it as it straightened up to head decisively onwards north. Several strange alien shapes, vehicles made of metal similar to ones they'd seen earlier, littered the road on both sides. They all looked rusted and ruined, as the others had been before, from her limited knowledge of machinery. Whatever ways they built these things was far beyond anything in Equestria. Her hunter's eyes scanned back and forth along the length of the road, eventually noting several of the strange air disturbances dotting one of the vehicles, when a small burst of movement caught her eye.
It was at the far end, gone as fast as it had came, disappearing behind one of those long metal tube vehicles. A shiver went up her spine, it wasn't dissimilar from those horrific four-legged creatures snuffling and leaping around further back in the forest. Thankfully the brick wall by the road seemed to have dissuaded them from straying outwards, at least so far. Still, whatever it was hadn't re-appeared yet. As the minutes ticked by, she cursed this awful land again, not being able to land and hide in the branches of these diseased trees. Her wings were definitely aching now, the feeling of being cut off from the natural magic of Equus was noticeably taking it's toll. The commander had said they'd be returning in shifts to recharge but when they'd have the opportunity wasn't clear.
Even training her eyes on the suspicious metal thing in the distance, she nearly missed the tiny object, being tossed out from behind it back towards the trees as the road curved away in the distance. She hadn't caught what it was, just black and rectangular. It wasn't long before something started shifting in the trees where it had been thrown to, moving around. The hairs on her neck and back prickled. This wasn't the animal savagery of the things she'd spotted earlier, her gut told her there was something going on here watching her. It had all the hallmarks of a trap.
It didn't make sense though, there were possibly better locations she could see in the maze of vehicles and she assumed whatever it was had seen her. They knew the natives had powerful long-range weapons; she knew was vulnerable flying like this even if they tended to ignore ponies if they could. She dipped lower, obscuring herself behind the treetops, when a figure suddenly stepped out into the road in the distance from the trees. It was tall and thin, bipedal, matching the description of the natives. Before she could take in any more detail it's hands went to it's head, pulling back the hood. A bright purple face emerged, with a pointed horn and shock of bluey-purple hair. Stormchaser's breath caught in her throat.
Yar gingerly walked through the ajar northern gates of the power plant complex. Even having seen it not long before it was still as deeply unsettling. The faint whispers of wind were the only sound in the industrial graveyard. He'd lingered a little before, taking in the legendary sight, but now the fear was stronger, pushing him into quick, deliberate stride across the concrete westwards. His heart was beating faster just from passing through the gate, and the steady beat was impossible to ignore as he paced onwards, setting him on edge. His head was constantly turning, scanning the deserted roads and buildings compulsively. When he saw the dark shape appear from the emerging face of one of the distant buildings the sudden thudding of his heart and cold sensation covering his body went almost unnoticed.
A humanoid shape, but far larger than any human, was ambling out from the concrete building in the distance, looking like a massive, hairy bloodsucker. He was still transfixed, recovering from the fear, as it half-turned and suddenly winked out of existence. His brain took a half-second to get into gear realising he was now top of the menu, and almost stumbling he broke into a sprint in the opposite direction. As his lungs and heart ached at being forced into overdrive, matched by the shocks on his overladen legs, he scanned the buildings ahead of him for some kind of salvation. The nearest was a blank face of concrete, with nothing but a single door. One further on more to his left however had an old ladder attached, and one of the many raised concrete bridges carrying all sorts of pipes to the main sarcophagus.
Without hesitation, he altered course, pumping his legs as hard as possible. The dull slaps of his bootsoles punched through the sounds of his heaving overworked lungs, masking whatever noise the thing somewhere behind him would be making. It was impossible to judge just how long it was taking, but nothing registered beyond a rising headache and the pain of pressing his body forwards as he sprinted onwards towards the looming grey face the ladder was attached to.
There were glimmers of hope threatening to break through the pain in mind and body as he crossed the final few meters bringing it into reach, but without delay he launched himself at it, heaving and pulling himself up rung by rung with his arms helping his weary legs to get off the ground. His panting and clanking of boot of metal filled the air as he went, his agonising mind forcing his body up and up until suddenly the grey wall broke into cloudy grey skyline and he tumbled over the lip of the wall onto the roof of the building. In a half-exhausted scrabble he wriggled to bring his rifle to bear, clutching it pointed at the top hoops of the ladder. He lay there for a few moments, lungs desperately trying to get his breathing under control, hands in a death grip around the grips of his Dragunov until it finally registered that the only sounds were those of his own panting breaths. The headache and blurred vision was receding a little, but even so it felt like the insidious influence of a controller's mind control powers were still clawing at the edges of his sanity.
He already felt pretty spent, damn age catching up to him, but this was no time to dawdle. Turning his head to scan the rooftop, he saw a couple of rusty old barrels sitting in a far corner. In as quick as a pace as he could manage he walked backwards towards them, keeping his rifle trained on the ladder until he got within reach. It seemed it wouldn't, or couldn't, climb up after him but he wasn't going to take chances. Quickly slinging his rifle, he grabbed one in each hand and dragged them back to the top of the ladder, leaning them on it. Hopefully it'd knock them over trying to sneak up after him. Peering down, he couldn't any telltale blurring of the air nearby giving away it's location, and the headache gradually faded.
Sitting on the edge there for a moment, he let the adrenaline drop a little before considering his next move. The thing was still down there somewhere, no doubt still aware of where he was and lying in wait. The only route lay along the long raised bridge of concrete carrying various pipelines to the old factory. He could walk along it to where it joined another outbuilding adjacent to the plant, and perhaps climb up there. It looked quite a height to get up at the end though, possibly beyond his reach. There were dense clusters of buildings next to it, all along the wall of the main NPP chambers, connected by myriad walkways and gantries. He'd be able to make his way a sizeable distance towards the west end of the plant without touching the floor, where that thing would be hunting him.
Sitting there, trying to plot a course through his binoculars, he still wasn't happy. Even if he got as far as he could atop the outbuildings, whatever the bloodsucker-like creature was would still be in a prime position to run him down. His basic gas-mask and geiger counter combined with the years of experience had done the job at letting him dodge the radiation pockets skirting the power plant, but trying to find a door to force his way inside sounded like too much for them. He'd had the privilege of meeting Strelok a couple of times over the years, and noted the well-worn, heavily improved SEVA suit he wore. Even so, he carefully picked out a couple of promising doors high up on the side that might be accessible, if only to take shelter from an emission. He was toast if he got caught exposed like this.
It'd been a while, and so far there'd be no sight or sound of whatever had pursued him earlier, so he went back to looking at the far end of the bridge, trying to gauge the height he'd have to pull himself up to reach the next rooftop. Pulling a barrel all the way to use as a step wasn't ideal. Moving back and forth, comparing it to the size of various railings, a flash of motion caught his eye. Something was disturbing the air in front of the ledge now. He swore there hadn't been an anomaly there before, and he'd never-
His blood ran cold and he placed the binocs on the floor immediately, pulling his rifle round hastily. It'd worked out the same conclusion as him, and found it's way up. Without any delay he raised the SVD to bear and eyed down the scope. Sure enough there was something wrong with the air now along the bridge, now far more agitated than before. Taking a second to clear his mind and pause his agitated breathing, he pulled the trigger.
The deafening crack of the rifle split the silence, and only his sniper's experience with his weapon let him control the recoil enough to know he'd missed and immediately pull back down to search for the blurry air.
As soon as his crosshair drifted across it he pulled again, another crack ringing in his ears, but this time a spurt of blood and flicker of indistinct brown flesh filled his heart with relief. It was no time for complacency though, and with no celebration he steadied is arms once again, sighted and sure enough, bloodstains and a barely-visible, translucent shape were barrelling along the concrete bridge at an alarming pace.
With more to go on this time, he pulled across ahead of hit, anticipating it's motion, let his heart steady, and a third deafening report broke the silence. A puff of blood and a flail of a limb caught in the scope as the rifle recoiled, and something flickering in and out of vision like a failing light tumbled off the right side of the bridge out of sight. Lowering his weapon, he stood to quickly pace sideways along the roof's edge, trying to find an angle to spot where it landed. As he moved, eyes searching for a telltale bloodstain, he caught sight of dark leg disappearing behind one of the pillars, leaving small splashes of blood behind in the grass. Whatever it was, it was tougher than any other bloodsucker, and smarter too, finding cover so quickly.
He raised his rifle again, scanning the edge of the pillar in detail, trying to see if anything of it was poking out. He doubted it could hide well enough to walk out invisible with the blood loss, if it could sustain the camouflage at all. Kneeling there, the near silence felt completely different. Now the straining to hear any sign of the thing was predatory, laced with the sniper's focus on waiting for that one perfect shot. As the wind curled gently past his exposed fingertips, he got ever more antsy in waiting. He had no idea how badly wounded it really was. How long it could hide there, waiting for a moment to escape. Even how much it knew about his position was another unknown.
Still, despite how clever it seemed, it definitely wouldn't be trained how to react under fire.
Yar leant rightwards, trying to see as far round as possible, before sighting and quickly letting off a couple of shots just to the side of the pillar. Without a second's hesitation, he pulled back away from the edge and sprinted left along the roof as quietly as possible. As the edge appeared ahead of him he turned and stepped forward, raising the SVD in one clean motion in anticipation towards the other side of the support pillar it was using as cover. As his scope reached his eye, already trained close by though the years of practice, he managed to sweep it into position just in time to catch a brown, face-like round shape peering out from the concrete pillar.
The quiet echoes of his footsteps were dwarfed by shattering crack of his rifle as he let off a shot in instinct, knowing without checking he'd missed as his arms jolted the sight away from the face that was already moving back into hiding as he took the shot.
Cursing he sprang back into movement, heading back to the right, trying to catch it on the other side. It took precious seconds to reach the far side of the building, and his heart was beating fast again as he finally found a good angle and turned. In the moment he raised his rifle, he saw an indistinct shape moving at speed away from him, heading for a further support pillar. Pulling his scope to his eye it took a second to recognise that half of the brown shapes were more pools of blood, but there ahead of them was rippling figure, parts phasing in and out of view stained red, sprinting leftwards already to cover itself with the bridge as it made distance. In the second and a half it took to regulate his heart and breathing it had nearly made it out of sight, and his final shot fell short somewhere between it's inconsistently pumping legs disappearing towards the safety of the pillar.
Cursing again, he paced back to see if it was visible from the other side. Cold anger raged within him, at his own failures to finish the beast and it's unnatural cunning in hunting and evading him. The bloodstains showed it had made it to cover again on the next pillar out. That meant another game of cat and mouse trying to bait it into sight, and more time wasted. Part of him doubted if it'd continue it's hunt after him immediately after being wounded badly, but no stalker with any sense left an enemy unfinished behind him with so many other dangers to think about. Allowing himself to close his eyes for a second to start calming the adrenaline and anger inside, he knelt down preparing again for the sniper's wait before settling himself into firing position, training his eye on it's hiding place.
Pripyat still gave him the creeps, it's insidious drab fog and ominous silence quickly doing away with what little nostalgia he had. Even so, it was quieter than normal. Though it earned it's reputation as the 'ghost city', there'd be the occasional birdsong or rare rustle of rats, but this morning it had been as silent and still as the grave. Just constant, oppressive silence. No life but plants and rot on long-dead corpses.
Still, Strelok was too seasoned to be complacent. The fog and pockets of heavy radiation forcing him to leave the curtain helmet of his SEVA suit up meant every second he was battling with the rasp of his own breathing through the filters to strain for sounds of danger. It took years of experience just to be able to maintain the absolute calm needed in the face of death to stop the heavy breathing that could mask the only warning you'd get through a gasmask before you died.
With the fog muffling the sound even more, and dropping the sightlines to a stone's throw, the going was slow and arduous. A non-stop sequence of pauses listening for danger, crawling behind undergrowth, carefully skirting buildings and short dashes as fast he could manage on his weak leg to cross roads into cover. There was no point going inside at all. Even back in the old days with backup available it just wasn't worth it in most cases. Besides some of the key landmarks used as bases there'd been too few stalkers coming out alive to even provide proper horror stories.
In some ways, the fog was a blessing, hiding him from any prying eyes that could easily spot you along the long, straight Soviet roads and open squares. If there were any that was. He didn't think anyone sane would still be here anyway.
As if on cue, something faint interrupted the sound of his breath. He froze in place. It didn't sound like immediate death yet. The light, quiet pants slowly starving him of oxygen didn't help the matter as his heart quickly started to up it's pace. Stillness, for a while longer. Then suddenly again, a distinct growl. Somewhere to his right. He'd been following the main road northwards along the right side, which tended to be a tad less dangerous being futher from the city centre. Still, only a little less dangerous. Whatever it was must be on the other side of the building he was pressed up against.
In the seconds he had, he made a snap decision to get across the road, hoping making distance would get him far enough away to stay undisturbed. None of the buildings around here offered any sanctuary. Only the hospital northwest of him was remotely accessible, and mutants wouldn't hesitate to follow him inside. They didn't in the past. He ran as fast with his heavy limp, focusing on just getting his bad foot down and through without injuring it even more, until a loud malicious snarl broke through the slapping of his boots on tarmac.
A mangy pseudodog was charging for him, slavering jaws ready to tear him to shreds with a leap from those powerful hindlegs. No chance of outrunning it. He pivoted and brought his rifle to bear, the wobble on his unsteady leg throwing off his aim. With a half-second left to line it up, he sighted it and released a burst of shots cascading a painful series of cracks echoing through the man-made valleys of the city.
The dog vanished in a puff of smoke.
He swore profusely under his breath. A psydog. Even as he looked over his sights for more targets low shapes moved around in the misty distance. He slung his rifle and started a quick limp away from them, following his original course north. Trying to find the real dog lurking behind it's proxy illusions in fog like this was near impossible. The barking and growling only grew, snapping impatiently a short distance behind him. As it edged closer and closer, he ripped the pistol from the holster on his thigh and turned again to fire off a clumsy hail at another dog advancing on him, sending it twirling away in wisps of smoke on the wind before stumbling back round and jogging onwards.
He needed shelter, but the apartment block to his left was an impenetrable forcing him onwards as the dogs closed in on him from his right and behind. They were ducking in and out of the fog, taunting him and trying to corral him against the building. Every time one made it ahead of him, he loosed off a couple more shots until he found his mark, sending it away in a puff. The damn thing could see he was wounded, and didn't need to risk itself going in for the kill until it had softened him up. He focused on just putting leg before leg, blocking out the snarls, until green light started to glow in the sky ahead of him.
The end of the building had some massive anomalous vines growing between it and the next high-rise. Hardly ideal, but at least he was going out of the fire into the frying pan. As he got closer the lanky brown shapes of the hardened vines faded into view, first the thinner strands stretching between the buildings like strands of web, then the thicker trunks growing from the acidic anomaly bath simmering below.
With the possibility of losing it's prize to the anomaly, the frenzied barking kicked up a notch as the psydog sent out it's illusory copies aggressively to finish the kill. He turned to let off a few more shots, taking down one illusion, then another, before pulling out his knife to slash at the last couple that made it past his final gunshots. One fell immediately to a fast stab, but the other slammed into his torso just after with very real force, knocking the breath from him and tearing at his protective suit as he pushed it away.
A darker dog, already spawning more copies, was charging him down from afar, and ignoring everything else he pushed his protesting legs to cover the last few metres to the edge of the acidic anomalies, quickly hobbling into a spot that seemed to be hissing and shimmering less than the rest. He carefully picked his way a couple of feet more, until he was surrounded by the awful chemical stench and green glow.
The fresh crowd of dogs weren't following him in here, just whining and posturing aggressively on the outskirts of the chemical field. He gave them a snarl back, before quickly clasping a gloved hand over the dog did the chest area. His legs were starting to feel prickly already, let alone the injury in one. Without delay, he pulled some bolts out and gingerly probed a way through to the trunk. With the way the nasty patches shifted and roiled, as well as the inconsistent way the bolts melted and fizzed in contact it was a lot less of a precise art than navigating electro or gravitational anomalies.
He'd seen them time and time again though, and with experience you could get a feel for it just by eye. It wasn't long before he got his way to the base of the gnarled wooden vine trunk, nearly two feet thick, spurting from the earth. Now it was time to climb out of this awful shit until the dogs gave up.
It was easier said than done, especially when injured. Alex had told him about when he'd done it, a mixture of using smaller shoots as hand and footholds and wrapping your limbs around it and shimmying up using pressure. Damn bastard was younger and stronger than him though, and the full-body anomaly suit wasn't suited for heavy exertion. It took a few tries to find a spot that he could climb up without using his abused right leg. It took far longer than he'd have liked, letting the sting of acid in through the teethmark holes in the suit's chest and sapping all the energy from the rest of him, but once he got up onto the trunk itself it he was left with the painful task of wrapping his arms and legs around it to wiggle up like some disabled monkey.
Still, with a bit of swearing and bitching and a pause sitting on a thick branch he eventually made up to a safer spot above the worst of the acidic effects of the anomalies below him. He knew he should really go higher if he had to stay to stop his suit slowly melting but that could wait a moment. He scanned the edges of the fog. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes, a faint four-legged shape danced at the edges of recognition. They wouldn't let him away that easily.
Stormchaser was so flabbergasted she almost dropped into the trees out of the air, bobbing back upwards to see what looked to be Twilight Sparkle in "human" form, just as described in the brief. Flapping there, she could see her standing there, waving at her now. Stormchaser could barely believe her eyes, but there she was. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, she mentally caught herself as she started to glide down towards her without thinking, before muttering under her breath.
"Focus Storm! You don't want to get pulverised from a moment's inattention do you. It could be a trap!"
The dark thought set her on edge, and slowly but surely she glided out of the treeline fully into sight over the road, already banking back in case something attacked her, but nothing was forthcoming. Heeding the warnings they'd been given, she slowly progressed forward above the road with her eyes and ears straining for any sight of these strange physical anomalies, and mindful to constantly shift direction and altitude in case one of these native humans had it's weapon trained on her. It was painful having to fly so slowly and cautiously when their objective was so close, maybe even safe.
The metres closed in, and by Celestia's mercy nothing attempted to stop her as she swooped down the last couple to land in front of Twilight Sparkle. Before she could get her bearings the oddly transfigured pony rushed her and clutched her tight in a hug, incoherently mumbling,
"I'm so glad you're here! We're going to be ok. We're going to be ok..."
She quickly dissolved into a sobbing mess. The situation was clearly bad. Stormchaser gently ponyhandled Twilight as she did her best to comfort her, angling her body around to try and get a look any humans with her. One was knelt by the end of the long metal vehicle clutching a sleek, black metal object; a long squashed tube with a smaller tube poking out the end. The human itself was imposing, far bigger than her even while kneeling and covered in what she presumed was their armor based on the intel in the brief. Her first impression was that it had to be worried or annoyed, it had barely paid any attention to her once she'd landed and resumed watch down the road.
Turning to the other side, there was whole group of more of them, all covered in a grubby assortment of armor completely covering their bodies, huddling against the grassy banks at the side of the road where it curved away to the right. She was right about her hunch, but the thought of missing so many potential hostiles sent chills down her spine. She dearly wanted to keep eyes on them, being the first meaningful contact they'd have with these aliens in the field, but first she had Twilight to attend to.
"Miss? Miss, can you just let go of me a second?"
Her quiet rebuke managed to get Twilight to let go of her, and knowing her type Stormchaser didn't give her any room to fall apart again.
"We've got more ponies coming up behind me looking for you, a whole squad especially sent by the Princess. It's going to be ok. We can take you back to Equestria very soon. I just need you to hold on while the rest get here and we rendezvous with your friends here. Is that ok?"
Twilight sheepishly nodded, and let Stormchaser guide her to sit down behind the long metal thing the human was using for cover. As she turned back around, one of the humans, smaller than the rest, stood up and pulled off it's mask, revealing a dark-skinned face and a tumble of grey and black hair behind it under the hood. That'd be one of the other civillians they were here for, Zecora. Before she had a chance to speak to her the transformed zebra gave her a nod and walked past her to comfort Twilight. Anyway, one of the other humans was waving her over. She trotted across to the grassy bank they were resting against, hoping as she took in all the odd features and differences between the aliens that two of them would be the other targets, Rainbow Dash and Princess Luna. Sadly, no wings, probably a giveaway unless the Princess had managed to mask them somehow.
The one that had waved her over stared at her through dark lenses on it's helmet, unnervingly similar to the bug eyes of the changelings she'd dealth with in the past. Diplomacy with someone you knew was hiding their face just felt wrong on so many levels. It was bulky beyond belief, with all manner of strange metal contraptions attached to it's limbs covering a thick black and grey camo-patterned bodysuit. Another weapon a lot like the one carried by the human on guard sat very clearly nearby its far hand. She hated to admit but the damn thing had her over a barrel if it wanted to. She had a hundred questions that needed answering but in the moment she realised that she had no idea where to begin. They hadn't expected to find the group so quickly, and she certainly didn't expect to have to be the one negotiating.
Might as well start with the basics.
"Who are you?"
"Hog."
Even more useless that she had imagined, clearly it wasn't in the talkative mood. Who even calls themself 'Hog' anyway.
"Do you have any intention to harm us ponies, and any that have been travelling with you?"
"I'm bloody glad you things turned up to take that damn woman away, What do they say, 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth', eh? She's a fucking liability. Anyway, I'm not in the mood to waste ammo on something not trying to kill me."
That was a surprise, and informative. Whoever this human was they didn't have an ounce of respect or empathy but at least it looked like they might make it back to Equestria with their objective at least partially complete with no hiccups or casualties. A miracle based on the previous action reports she'd seen. Spurred on by thte sudden turn for the better, she just went with what came to her next.
"Why?"
It just didn't quite add up. Twilight Sparkle, fantastically powerful mage and Princess' protege, a useless liability? A trap that doesn't close when you put your hoof in it?
"She just whines all day and can't fight that's why. Typical tourist who thinks they're hot shit but falls apart like a tissue. She won't even kill either. Useless veggie."
Stormchaser felt like if the thing wasn't wearing helmet, there'd be a spit of disgust punctuating that remark, whatever it meant. She opened her mouth to ask another question but it continued.
"The situation around here is terrible. We're fighting for survival and her dragging us down just makes things even worse. Guess it's your problem now." It chuckled darkly.
She'd expected better from the famed Twilight Sparkle to be honest, and seeing her in pieces like that did make her heart sink a bit. Still, there was no telling what she'd been through. The natives looked like they were being pushed over the brink from all these monster attacks the previous groups had witnessed. Staring into those soulless lenses, a thought occurred. No mention of Zecora, or other ponies.
"What about the other ponies? You've got Zecora here with you, but there were two others that were with them originally, do you know anything about them?"
"Both dead. We saw them die." He said flatly. Stormchaser was taken aback by the complete lack of emotion, even with the muffling of it's helmet before the information itself had time to sink in.
"A horrific mutant baited them into trap, well, us all into the trap, and killed half our group at the time in the fight. The one with the weird hair and wings blew them both up in some strange explosion as it killed her."
It paused for a couple of seconds. Stormchaser realised her mouth was hanging open.
"After that we've been heading for wherever's safe. The only other one that escaped that thing's trap died soon after fighting a rearguard against the mutant hordes while the rest of us fled. Most of them aren't proper stalkers anyway, just me and Alex over there by the bus are hardened fighters. At least your Zecora has her head screwed on properly, only woman I've seen that's got the respect for the Zone. In another time she might have made it as a stalker."
She couldn't really believe it. Princess Luna. Dead. It didn't seem like something that could happen in real life. She blinked her eyes a couple of time, trying to come to terms with it and failing. Whatever resemblance this story had to the truth she needed to report this back, now.
"I'm going head back to the rest of my unit and lead them back so we can sort this out. You're not going to kill me when I try to leave are you?"
Hog tilted his head and leant back, waving a hand non-commitally. "Just go, I've had enough magic shit in my life, lets get it over with."
Nearly two hours had passed, and Yar still knelt motionless in wait, ready to finish the kill on whatever awful monstrosity of a bloodsucker was hiding out there, bloody and wounded. He could just about see both sides of the bridge support pillar it was hiding behind from his vantage at the corner of his rooftop, ready to stop a stray leg or trail of blood betray it's movement. Then, he'd have it in the open, ready to receive his bullet.
After the adrenaline and stress of suddenly being hunted, then becoming the hunter, he'd finally regained the focus he had earlier, tuning into the softness of the breeze caressing his face and it's gentle whisper through the roads and alleys that surrounded him behind the huge figure of the powerplant. He dared not look away, but out of the corners of his eyes he'd let the slow motion of clouds covering the sky reach his attention. His tarp was ready in his backpack to cover himself up, he wasn't going to let weather get in the way of this kill. A bit of rain wouldn't stop him watching and waiting for the right moment.
So when the tremor came, his whole body suddenly tensed, arms gripping his rifle ever tighter. His ears pricked, searching for the heavy steps of a pseudo-giant, the only thing in the Zone that could shake the very ground beneath him. The second tremor was accompanied by a sonorous, low rumble that washed over his entire body.
Another emission.
He slung his rifle over his shoulder, and ran along the rooftop ledge before vaulting down onto the concrete bridge towards the powerplant sarcophagus. Sucking air into his lungs in heavy gasps he ran at full tilt along to top, legs pounding as the huge grey structure grew to fill his field of view. Whatever that wounded beast was doing didn't matter, it'd probably die out here in a minute anyway and he didn't want to join it.
The end of the bridge quickly approached, and with a powerful leap he managed to jump up to meet the flat wall at the end. His body and face slammed into it with an excruciating crunch, but his outstretched hands just managed to grasp the lip of the next rooftop above him. Fucking hell he was far too old for this. With a groan he forced every ounce of strength in his arms into pulling, slowly rising until his head was almost breaking to lip, before swinging an arm upwards to grab onto a railing crossbar above him. He let himself hang for just a second, flashes of light ominously lighting up the cloudy day behind him accompanied by trembling vibrations pulsing slowly through the railing. With another groan he swung his other arm up, before getting his boots against the wall and using his legs to gain the last stretch before hopping over the railing.
He forced his legs into a jog across the roof of the building towards the stairway leading onto the maze of gantries coming off the sarcophagus. They felt like lead pipes clanging against the stairs as he pushed on upwards through the building roar of thunder and flashes of lightning. Everything was focused on getting through one of those doors above him into the shelter of the sarcophagus building. His feet pounded on the metal walkways, rounding corners and climbing more flights of stairs, beelining for one a couple of levels higher.
With the scraps of the oxygen reaching his brain, he had a sudden awful thought. The door could be locked. His legs and lungs were barely staving off failure, so he staggered up a couple more steps and slumped on the railing, staring at it. Groping on his back, he unslung his rifle and braced it on the railing. His arms could barely keep it straight, the door kept wobbling around in his scope reflecting the awful red tinge of the sky behind him. Holding in a rattling gasp, he waited half a second for the arrow mark to move down over the handle and-
The crack of the rifle and shrill squeal of the handle area of the rusted metal door being torn off broke through the bass roar filling the air. Using his sniper rifle like a walking stick, he pushed himself back to his feet and staggered the last few metres up and along the trembling walkway towards the door flapping open and closed in the raging wind. As the opening came up to meet him he leant on the side, pivoting himself through and away from the doorway as he fell into the darkness.
Dusty concrete slammed into him with a blunt greeting, and he rolled over to watch the hellish flashes of light pouring through the doorway past his feet. The geiger counter was warbling an anxious staccato stutter, barely breaking through the roaring waves of the emission crashing against the sarcophagus walls. His sore arm pulled his gasmask up to cover his face as he curled up like an animal.
For Sickle, living quite literally under the shadow of Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant once again felt like putting on a old, moth-bitten coat. A tad unpleasant from it's sorry state and full of associations with past events, but one that still fitted perfectly. He'd slowly wandered along it's facade, taking in the sights where he could avoid the heavy radiation pockets, letting the memories of his times here wash over him like watching a favourite movie in a dream, well known yet somehow distant, removed. Avoiding the radiation and the huge anomalies, pausing to strip what flesh wasn't rotten entirely beyond recognition to save and cook, keeping watch out towards the east gate that marked the absolute end of that infamous road stretching the entire length of the Zone, from it's entrance into the Cordon, up through the garbage wastes and Rostok City, past the Army's warehouses and then the Brain Scorcher labs marked by massive antennae, through Pripyat, all the way to the gate with the little encampment that the Monolith forces garrisoned here called home.
It was strategically positioned, even though the military who'd assaulted in the past had cut up from somewhere else or came in choppers. Beyond that gate where the road terminated was a huge forecourt and a large series of office buildings that had dictated the running of the place. They'd set up defences and small camps all across the NPP's grounds except out there, in the offices. He wasn't sure if anyone had seen baby chimeras anywhere else in the Zone, or even knew they existed, and he'd certainly take on the whole Ukrainian army than a chimera with the added ferocity and tenacity of a mother defending it's young. Only the competition they faced from the high number of controllers that also inhabited the area gave humanity a chance of contesting a claim.
He was still sat around a small campfire in one of the old converted train carriages they'd towed to make the camp, finishing off the charred meat as the rolling thunder of the emission faded southwards. The truly awful taste was even worse now he'd left the clutches of the Monolith's control, but he didn't have any other choices really. His supplies had run out, and there wasn't time to check for more. He wouldn't have time to search for any more after the relative safety of the emission before any mutants would re-emerge and this unmanned outpost became a deathtrap once again.
After that, heading back west and round to the far side of the plant seemed to be worth a last look before his final destination inside.
Strelok sighed as he stared down at the psydogs cavorting around in the distance, well, one psydog really if you didn't count it's copies, never straying too far out of sight of his perch on the massively overgrown vines spanning the two apartment blocks either side of him.
Now the fog had lifted he could see much further out under the overcast sky at quite the view of dreary Pripyat, southwards out across the school and eastward to the river-banks, but that meant it could also see him. It wasn't leaving any time soon, knowing he was injured. There'd been no sight or sound of anything else living out here, so he presumed it was him or nothing on the menu for the mutant dog. His rifle was accurate, and his still-beating heart was a testament to his shooting skills, but even so the dog was canny enough to stay out of effective range, moving erratically and mingling with it's clones. Like him, it was a survivor too.
Still, he worried a little about what he could do next. He had food for a couple of days, and sleeping rough in this awkward spot would hardly be the worst night out he'd experienced, but water would be an issue. Going out and facing it head on seemed like the only reasonable solution, but with his leg impaired it wasn't attractive. Even giving it a day to heal might make the difference. He dropped his head into his hands, staring dejectedly at the damn dog running around in the distance. Forcing yourself to do nothing when you're exposed and vulnerable was one of the nastiest parts of life in the Zone.
Hog was suddenly jerked awake by an elbow to the ribs, at full force, spasming his whole body for a second before his hands instinctively went for his sidearm and his head swung around to look at the threat. Nitro was crouching by him, gearing up. It'd been about a couple of hours since the strange flying horse thing had made contact with them after they spotted it above the trees. Blasted thing had scared the shits out of them at first, no one had ever heard of a flying mutant. Yet.
So once their surreal conversation had finished with it leaving for the rest of its horsey friends he'd posted Nitro on watch taking over from Alex while the rest of them had a little time to relax however they could. Even with the slightly lax attitude Nitro, Cardan and Nimble could bring at times, they'd all stayed subdued after the encounter. Zecora just sat with Twilight trying to stop her hyperventilating, managing to slowly calm her down into just mumbling gently like a less volatile nutcase. It didn't help that they all knew they were exposed out here on the road south from the Red Forest. It wasn't a route any of them but him and Alex had travelled, and too dangerously far north to have ever been frequented by stalkers. Still. Make use of them being on edge for you while you can. You never know when you'll be able to sleep next.
Nitro looked uncomfortable, as well as the rest of the group apart from Alex, that smug FSB bastard, he seemed to take almost anything in his stride. He muttered under his breath, "They're here.", before gesturing him to check round the corner to where the road straightened out. Grabbing his rifle, Hog cautiously got to his feet and paced out down the road, watching past the unfolding trees intently. His whole body was ready to react, to bring his shooter to bear at a moment's notice or scramble further across to shelter behind the nearby bus. He had no idea what to expect. Who knew what devilish magic they could summon up? The whole situation was fucked.
He couldn't stop himself tightening his grip on his rifle as the sight several brightly-coloured bulbous heads appeared snaking through the trashed trucks and cars leading up the road, each wearing some kind of medieval-looking helmet of muted grey. A couple even had a fucking unicorn horn, and, yes, there was that winged one again hovering by the trees behind them. Weird looking things. Only vaguely like horses really. The eyes and whole proportions were just wrong. He could see that just as clearly as he'd spotted them, they'd seen him step out of cover. Against his better nature he lowered his weapon further and slowly raised his hand in a wave.
The things paused, one was giving out orders while watching him intently, and the flying one swooped ahead of group towards him. The rest hadn't moved, so he could only assume that they weren't attacking. As uncomfortable as he was, his rifle stayed in one hand by his side as it flew closer. With a graceful slowdown, it dropped deftly onto the ground several meters from him.
"We need you to bring Twilight out. They're not willing to get any closer to where your men are hiding."
Well, they could hardly be blamed for being suspicious. You didn't live long if you weren't a suspicious bastard. Walking right up to them alone like this wasn't something he planned on doing either.
"You're going to walk with me back to where we were before, and then we'll walk back with your people. Acceptable?"
The winged horse eyed him for a moment warily,
"Agreed."
Slowly turning, he motioned for her to walk with him side-by-side back towards the bus Twilight and Zecora were resting behind. A stony silence would usually have suited him fine, but all their asses were on the line. He had to ask.
"How do you plan on getting the lot of them out of here?"
"We have multiple unicorns with us trained to open a temporary portal back to Equestria, where we come from. We'll be heading back immediately to get them to safety."
Hardly what he wanted to hear, but he hadn't been hopeful. A way out of the Zone without ending up in some alien world would be a miracle. Then again, a world with small colourful talking horses didn't really sound so bad in comparison to finding a way through Zone to safety. As they approached the bus, he knew his leverage was at it's maximum.
"Do you think you'd be able to transport us somewhere else using this 'magic'? In return for so graciously taking care of your vulnerable citizens, of course."
She paused and glared at him.
"We've had several cases of your kind from this awful place ending up in our world, and experienced enough to know that allow any more of you into Equestria would be the height of folly. Don't mention it again."
Hog and the flying pony rounded the bus to face the two women sitting against it's side. Alex was leant up against it further along, watching their backs. The rest were watching him expectantly, not looking overly happy with the situation. It'd been a costly delay. Not to mention coming across anything fresh and unknown in the Zone tended to be seriously bad news. Fatally bad news. Trying to project as much firm confidence as he could when he hardly felt any better than them, he addressed the group.
"We're moving out, down the road towards the unnatural horses. It's your lucky day ladies, seems like Prince Charming and his band of merry men has turned up to save the day. I want you up front, nice and visible. Take it slow, and Zecora, find a path through. Alex, you're with me behind them. The rest of you sorry dogs are bringing up the rear, and in case any of you haven't turned your brain back on yet, No. Sudden. Moves."
He stood there as they collected their things, staring back down the road they'd come down at the gloomy, overcast sky and listening to gentle rustle of leaves drifting from the forest. It'd been a quiet day after the morning's scare, now this. If it went to plan things would be looking bright. Two less mouths to feed at the cost of one useful stalker. He glanced at the two transformed women packing the last of their gear. For a moment he considered confiscating it. If things turned sour, well, he didn't think Zecora would be able to use that shotgun she had before she was riddled with lead. The food could be worried about later. As they finished he motioned for them to head out, watching Twilight's grubby face marred by lines from her crying still plagued by fear but looking the happiest he'd seen her since they'd been ambushed, all the way back near the Jupiter Plant. Zecora just looked relieved, but still not fully at ease. At least she had her head screwed on straight of the two.
Now they were reunited and ready to leave, Twilight couldn't take her hands off the winged pony. As they stared to walk towards the rest of the ponies, she constantly rubbed up against her with her leg and patting the back of its hair like a comforting doll. The thing didn't look to comfortable with it at first, but once they'd taken a dozen steps or so it wrapped a wing gingerly around her waist. As amusing as it was to watch fucked up little trio he turned to the men.
"Follow me. Don't do a thing unless I mention that whiny bastard of a trader in Freedom, got me?"
Alex headed round the far side of the bus, but the rest began to file into a line, not uncommon for traversing untrodden ground.
"And keep spaced. Who knows what we're dealing with."
The sudden tremor shook Strelok out of his daze, sitting up on the vines. His head whipped around, and sure enough thick dark clouds were forming on the horizon. That first wave of distant thunder slowly rolled over him as he shakily got to his feet, balancing on the thick woody plant. Looking out over Pripyat he could just make out the dogs disappearing into the school to the southwest. Not long until the emission hit.
Getting down out of the anomaly was an option, but who knew what else was taking cover in the lower areas of the nearby buildings. It'd take a lot of time he didn't really have too. Looking upwards, towards the top of the vines he could just make out where one had breached into an apartment, rumoured by Alex to be a safehouse. Certainly a lot closer, and a lot safer place to hide out than any other options. Fuck, it would be a bugger of a climb though. Above him a whirling green energy coruscated along several of the higher vine strands, apparently highly corrosive according to Alex. He'd seen the pattern, but there wouldn't be much time to wait carefully for the perfect moments.
Still, better the devil you know. He quickly made sure everything was tightly attached, before starting the climb up the last trunk-like section. Every time he pressed his bad leg against the plant, the stabbing pain made his whole body tense up, crying in protest to forcing it to curl around awkwardly. Even so, he wasn't sure his arms were up to compensating for the last section. There was no way he was walking along those thin vines like a tightrope, even if they weren't very flexible. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He'd never had his strength and endurance tested in quite this way before. He paused a second, working out his plan as the coruscating green energy headed towards him. He'd need to wait for it to double back, then follow it upward to have any hope.
As it ended it's trail next to him, and bounced on the knotted end of the vine, he sucked a deep breath in and swung himself onto the vine, clutching it with a death grip as his legs sought to wrap their way around tightly. The moment they were both over he was shifting his arms upwards, then dragging himself along upwards in jerky, hurried movements. From what stomach-churning upside-down glances he stole as he pushed himself onwards, he was only just going fast enough to make it to the slowly approaching far building. With every change of grip the strain in his shoulders and arms grew, heat building and forcing him to gasp as he wrenched his way up the final section of steepening vine towards the point where it met the next, higher one.
The glowing green ball of energy was bearing down towards him under the already darkening stormy sky. Time for the most dreaded part. Swinging across to the higher vine. Ignoring the awful feeling in his gut and pain in his arms, he swung himself once back and forth before letting an arm fly out towards it. For a gut-wrenching moment he felt like he was flying, falling 5 stories above the ground, before his forearm grazed against the vine and suddenly his fingers were hooked round it. Thankfully he'd got his arm above it, and his knuckles were facing him. Staring at the flashes in the clouds above, he just hoped he had time to pull this off. He needed to get himself turned round, fast, in the short period of the glowing pulse travelling up and down before his window to start the final stretch.
Twisting his body to get a leg up now didn't seem possible, especially his bad ankle, so no other option but to do his other arm next. Clutching on with his leg and ignoring the pain in his left fingers, he yanked his body across to snatch a grip with his right hand on the new vine. Now the really dodgy part. He was awkwardly splayed between the two vines, hands on one, legs on another. Using them to pull his waist as high as possible, he let his legs unclasp and his heart felt like it was exploding out of his throat as his whole body swung underneath him, twisting wildly in mid-air. Pulling his arms downwards with herculean effort, he just about managed to swing his right leg up, hooking his foot up over the vine.
His upside-down perspective returned just in time to watch the glowing pulse travel past his head on the way downwards. The hammering of his heart didn't slow down as he swung his left leg furiously, trying to find purchase with it while his right leg worked it's way over vine properly. All the while the flashes above his face were getting redder and redder, contrasting against the blackening sky. Stealing another glance downwards he could see the thing already heading up towards him. He'd have to wait for next opportunity.
Gripping on for dear life to the rough vine had left his hands in agony, and hanging there awkwardly his ragged breath heaved irregularly trying to fight off the growing pain in his leaden arms. With every fresh approaching rumble of thunder his arms trembled harder and made him skip a beat. It would be a close run thing making it to safety even if he could out-climb the green chemical pulse. Thankfully it wasn't long before it was headed back down towards him, and groaning with exertion he pulled his forearms up and over for better grip.
The second it passed him by he was off, shimmying and wriggling his body upwards as fast as could manage. Each pull turned more and more of his forearms into lead weights, and swaying in the raising wind he found his elbows and knees painfully digging into each other to hold himself up. The rumbles of were raising into a constant roar in the now crimson sky, laced with twisted bolts of lightning. With every press of his legs and pull of his arms the pain and blind terror grew, and his head made contact with the concrete of the apartment's balcony before he'd even registered he'd arrived.
Somehow he managed to heave himself up enough to make an awkward tumble backwards into the balcony as the roar became deafening and roiling clouds glowing red started to thunder past the building away from him, make the whole thing tremble and vibrate. Feeling the blowback burning even through his protective suit, his spent limbs jerkily clawed him back into a doorway before he rolled himself inside, gasping for air and lying splayed out on the floor.
They advanced slowly, following the odd collection of women and pony as they wove their way towards their comrades through the abandoned vehicles. Even with them in front, Hog's eyes were fixed on the helmeted group of ponies in the distance, staring equally intensely back at him. He'd just about stayed calm before, but now as they closed in his heart really started to race. The ponies were really starting to come into view now. Some of them were big, bulky bastards, coming up to his chest rather than barely making his waist like the rest. The rest, even more garishly coloured, had horns, which from his miniscule knowledge of the subject meant magic. Bad fucking news. Part of him wanted to shout out something to them, but the ball was probably in their court. If they had any sense they'd know their VIPs would drop in an instant the second something seemed wrong.
As the group ahead of him neared their destination, a little defensible ring of cars by an APC, Twilight did the unthinkable. She bolted for the ponies, crying some sentimental garbage running to embrace one of them. He had to physically restrain arm from jerking up instinctually, screaming in frustration internally.
For a moment, everyone else seemed to freeze, waiting for all hell to break lose. The ponies staring at him were close enough to see them visible tense too.
Then, as Twilight reached her goal unharmed and slammed into hugging one of beefy ponies, the tension seemed to ease. The unlucky thing looked awkward all of a sudden being take off guard by the human-shaped woman wrapping herself around it sobbing her eyes out, and both Zecora and the winged pony shot a glance back at him, looking worried. He gave them a nod to continue. Now was the time to speak.
"It's ok, it's ok. We don't mean any harm. I'm going to come forward and have a chat."
Making sure his rifle was visibly lowered, he carefully made his way forwards. Each step seemed to echo in the silent staring contest with the curiously large-eyed horse creatures. Zecora and the winged one were heading round the little stockade of cars now, joining the group.
"Stop right there!"
One of them, bright silver with a long, pointed horn poking out it's matte grey helmet, shouted out at him. He froze, letting his foot fall to the floor mid step.
"Thank you for giving your assistance to our ponies in need, but know we still cannot fully trust you. I understand you are the one that claims to have witnessed what befell the other two ponies we seek. Explain what you saw now, as accurately as you can, and we'll let you go in peace."
Fuck that, he wasn't giving them his time for free. He was in a bad spot sure, but he was confident the guys behind him posed some kind of threat.
"We need food and water, and I understand you're heading back to your world to drop those two off to safety. Give us any and all rations you all have on you and I'll you tell my story."
The pony in charge looked around at it's soldiers and then mumbled something to one of the other unicorns, a reddish thing. It's horn lit up, and instantly he tensed his fingers, finding the trigger of his weapon as it itched to come up.
"And no magic." He hastily added. "Not until we're done."
The red one glared at him, protesting under his breath, but the one in charge cut him off brusquely. Another, a big blue one, knelt down and started fishing through something hidden in front of them before pulling out smaller ration bags held gently in his teeth. He slowly trudged round to deposit them not far in front of Hog, The writing on them was alien, and it was some kind of foil to keep it fresh, but it didn't look far off from the stuff that turned up from all sorts of sources in the Zone. Satisfied, he launched into his tale.
Corroborated by Zecora, while Twilight sobbed uncontrollably, the account of how the other two women got torn apart by the horrific mutant aberration that had tracked them down those weeks ago had made all the ponies visibly uncomfortable. A couple simply couldn't believe how the one with both a horn and wings took the creature with her in some kind of magic explosion. He could see the beginnings of an argument brewing over that. Still, the ration packs had piled up as he went told it, as well as a series of water canteens. Overall, a trade very much worth taking. He was coming to a natural close, addressing what had come after,
"Between then and now plenty of good men lost their lives, but your two ponies here somehow made it through alive. To keep it short, we couldn't return to that place again, the hordes of mutants forced us to move on. I'm quite sure Rainbow, the winged one, is confirmed dead. You'd know about what magic can do but we didn't have any reason to believe Luna, the other one survived. I asked around, no reports of her or magic to suggest she'd-"
A deep rumble, distant at first but with sinister presence grew quickly into resonating throughout the air, making the very ground tremble. Hog's head whipped round, catching the rest of his group doing the same. An emission was rolling in. Deep dark clouds were building on the horizon.
"That's one of the deadly storms isn't it?" the pony in charge shouted out, breaking through the fresh jolt of adrenaline setting Hog's heart pumping even faster.
"Yeah, we're fucked." Hog remarked with a turn of his head, already jogging towards Degtayrev. "Alex! Where the fuck are we going to use for shelter?"
"We don't have time to backtrack, and we're a couple of hours away from the nearest shelter in the Army Warehouses."
Fuck those blasted ponies. The whole group had quickly gathered together, Alex standing tall over the rest, looking around in vain for some source of hope. All their bodies seemed to twitch and tense, yet unable to act, like rabbits in headlights. None of them had anything to say. Their doom seemed indisputable. Alex was the first one to chime in, his voice unusually subdued and uncertain, not much louder than the slowly building rumble of the incoming storm.
"Maybe an APC? It's a gamble though, half of them are missing doors and hatches and the rest are sealed. If we blow one open with a grenade we can't close it again."
Wracking his brains for some kind of salvation, Hog looked around him at the ever increasingly agitated trees trembling in the wind under the darkening sky, the ruined and rusting vehicles, and then across the group of ponies still standing there. One of them was helping Zecora calm Twilight down and the garishly pink unicorn was doing some strange magic with her horn, but the rest were all standing there staring at him and the rest of the men or the heap of rations now sitting there ignored on the floor. The one time when he most needed a miracle...
Before he could explore the idea any further the silver unicorn one in charge interrupted his chain of thought, shouting over to them,
"Why aren't you heading for cover?"
"What cover? Nothing here'll stop it." He shouted back, almost automatically.
"We need to leave now, before this storm interferes-" The pony tried to reply, before Hog cut him off,
"Wait! Wait! Take us with you! Otherwise we're dead."
The silver pony did a double take, alarmed by the proposition.
"I don't care what happens just take us out of here. I don't want to be boiled alive!" Nimble pitched in behind Hog, his voice panic stricken and wailing. Cardan was quick to back him up, the desperation not far from overtaking him completely,
"Yeah, can't you do something?"
Alex was trying to calm them down with hushed words, but when he was so scared himself it didn't stop them continuing to shout, begging for their lives through the constant growling thunder rolling over the horizon. The ponies next to the commander were looking at him, hurriedly saying things under their breath, and even the pink one casting the spell looked up at the growing commotion.
Nimble tried to push forwards towards the ponies, only to be met by Hog's outstretched arm blocking his path. Something rash could screw them all. The light was dropping alarmingly fast now, and Hog had to grapple with Nimble as he writhed and fought to break free of his hold, trying to dash at the alien horses. Alex had his hands full with Cardan, stopping him from pulling his gun at the things. Nitro just had his head in his hands, curling up in the lee of a truck. Between them they were so caught up in the moment they didn't see or hear Twilight shouting out through the roar of the wind to the pony leader, pleading with it and the spellcaster unicorn.
The tectonic rumbling and sickening red glow pouring out from the slit in front of his eyes payed no heed to his thick hood and scrunched up eyes, piercing through to shake his nerves just his sweaty hands clasped to his rifle. The clatter of the door riccocheting between the frame and his boot warped the bellowing thunder and crackling shrieks of lightning hitting the metalwork outside into a hellish cacophany echoing inescapably around him into the black hallways beyond.
It might as well have been eternal damnation, even if the hour hand on his watch hadn't entered a new segment. Each moment of it bored like a drill into his skill, twisting his body slowly into a tightly clenched ball trembling under tension.
Slowly, like waking from a deep sleep, he became aware that the red had faded to black, the roar to a low grumble. By degrees, at first just a finger here and a leg muscle there, parts of him slackened. His awareness began to recognise the sound of his own heavy breathing in the gas-mask and tremulous clicking of the Geiger counter. A few minutes more, and the conclusion that he was holding himself curled up like this dawned on Yar as the last vestiges of instinctual animal terror washed away from his similarly tensed consciousness.
Yar's body suddenly slumped from it's paralysing rictus against wall behind him, exploring the reassuring comfort of the immobile, immovable concrete supporting him. His hands finally let go of the grip of his sniper rifle and curled around him. Daring to open his eyes, a single grey slit of cloud and distant structures cut down through the blackness surrounding him. He sat there a while, staring at the tiny section of cloud rolling by as his breathing deepened and his heart-rate slowed. He'd phased out the clicking unconsciously to appreciate the soft whistle of the winds accompanying the now placid sky.
Well, he couldn't completely ignore the chatter of the Geiger counter. He sat up, checking himself over. Taking back hold of his rifle, he tilted it away from him and nudged the door open with the tip of the barrel. The fading echoes of the storm whirled on the wind through the widening gap revealing the landscape of Chernobyl once more.
Time to move. Strelok gingerly heaved himself out of the balcony onto the colossal vine. The whirling chemical ball was on it's way up, and when it reached it's apex it would be time for him to be on his way down behind it. Taking care in swinging his injured leg over first, he took up position hanging upside down. One had clasped the opposite elbow over the vine, the other was firmly gripping the vine itself, ready for the moment. He stared at the green glow getting ever closer above the dizzying sight of Pripyat below, before it slowly came to a stop and turned around to return to the base.
A fearful moment of indecision held him, and for a second he almost let himself go after it before the realisation he'd catch it up and slide right through it. Heavy breaths came and went as the sweat built up in his gloves, and finally it was starting to pass the refuge point he was aiming for. He let his grip loosen and suddenly the gnarly bark was juddering through his legs and forearms at an alarming rate, shaking him to the bone.
Trying to keep hold while being shook to the bone barely gave him time to prepare for the sudden crunch of him slamming into the lower building opposite. Barely managing to brace with his good leg, he winced as it shuddered from the impact. Grimacing in pain he got his bearings and began the crawl back up the intersection to the second vine. What little reserves of energy he'd managed to regain while the emission raged were already starting to falter. It took an agonising age of seconds to finally reach out across to the next vine. Bracing for a second, he pushed on until he could clumsily fall down onto it to hastily slide again ahead of the deadly green ball following him down.
A few seconds of frenzied barky assault later and he was finally down onto the base of the vines, sitting limply over the stewing chemical waste below trying to slow his racing heart. Staring out over the gloomy city that was only just coming out of the cloudy shadow of the emission, nothing moved. Now was his best chance to get out of this deathtrap alive.
Yar prowled along the gantries overlooking the power plant, constantly stopping to sweep for the monstrosity he'd wounded. The nasty fucker could still be out there hunting him, and the only thing giving it away would be a shimmer in the air and a thin trail of blood from it's wounds. He wasn't too worried yet, up on the walkways far above the overgrown grassy fields, but they didn't extend all the way around the main sarcophagus building. It wasn't long before he'd be forced to ground level for the rest of the journey away from Chernobyl.
So far, the unsettling creak of the rusted metal underfoot was the only sound piercing through the fading wind. The minutes passed, but his straining ears weren't picking up anything else as slowly, but surely, the concrete superstructure dominating the left of his vision receded and the open grasslands took over. One last blocky substructure lay below to his right, dotted with old supply crates and remains of an old Monolithian camp. His eyes scanned over the detritus. Nothing of value left. His eyes flicked back behind him, but nothing besides the huge storm-gathering spheres in the distance moved.
The gantry ended a couple of dozen meters ahead, so there was nothing else to do now but commit to heading down to ground level. Another check confirmed the structure attached below him didn't seem to have any visible ladders. He walked onwards, until he was standing infront of the railing overlooking the end the NPP site. The old shipping containers and bonfires he'd passed on the way in were there in the grass below him, but the stairs snaking down the very end of the smaller sub-building protruding out the end immediately caught his eye. Getting up over to them looked far more reasonable given the numerous ladders to the roof he'd passed.
He swiftly retraced his steps, hugging the wall to avoid been seen until one of the less corroded ladders came into reach. Taking one last look back and forth at the solemn sight of Chernobyl's grounds, he grabbed it and carefully started working his way upwards towards the murky grey clouds. As he climbed higher, the steady clink of his boots on the rungs began to be overtaken by a familiar buzzing.
His ears weren't deceiving him. As his head broke over the ledge at the top the sparking discharges of electro anomalies shimmered all across the top of the area ahead of him. Inside, his heart sank a little. The Zone always had another trick up it's sleeve.
Still, better the devil you know. He carried bolts for a reason.
He slowly wove his way through the electrified deathtraps. As he picked his way across the roof, immersed in the repetitive task of carefully selecting spots to throw the metal fragments before taking measured steps to retrieve them, a calm he hadn't been used to since leaving Freedom crept up on him. Safe in the knowledge no mutant had a hope in hell of reaching him surrounded by anomalies like this, tensions all across his body eased one by one with every step. He'd heard them so many times over the years that even the flaring shrieks of triggered anomalies felt more comforting than offputting.
It took the better part of an hour, but eventually he came to a ladder leading down to the lower sub-building, which looked mercifully clear. Sadly it had been most of the way across the NPP roof, leading down near the far edge. He couldn't afford to waste much more time if he wanted to get himself out of that thing's hunting grounds by the end of the day. He tentatively worked his way down the creaky old ladder, until his feet found air and he was forced to awkwardly drop the last couple of meters.
The landing was awkward, his tired legs nearly buckled and he tumbled to the concrete in a clatter. He took a moment to let his aching bones recover and catch a breath, before pulling himself together and heading along the roof towards the rusted handrail on the far edge. It was mercifully quick compared to the previous roof, and soon the disturbingly rickety stairs crept into view over the lip.
He paused, surveying the vista for one last time. Nothing below him moved but the swaying grass. Lowering his binoculars, he stepped forward into a wince at the unhealthy creak from the rusty construction.
With each step Strelok took the pain was slowly building into agony in his bad leg. Every limping pace was sickening, not just from the pain, but from the perversity of being in this place. The last time he'd visited the northern outskirts of Pripyat it was one of the most dangerous places on the planet, and he'd been sprinting through gunfire out of a hectic firefight to escape the Zone.
Now he was here as a helpless cripple with only the wind for company.
He'd managed to escape the anomaly at the base of the vine relatively unburned, but straining his leg like this was getting too much for him to bear. The city blocks were slowly passing him by, but he hadn't reached the long wall of apartment buildings that separated this residential district from the city centre and the iconic Palace of Culture.
Curiosity had been building for weeks at what new secrets might be hiding inside the sarcophagus that led him back to the Zone, but now each stab of pain was a "fuck you", raining on that rekindled desire that drove him years ago.
His bad foot caught awkwardly on a knotted clump of grass poking through a gap in the decrepit road surface and he came crashing to the floor. His teeth gnashed together, doing what he could to choke back a scream at sudden spasm of pain and indiginity. Strelok lay there for a few moments, trying to breath away the violent throbbing coming up his legs while he blinked away the tears. He needed to find some kind of splint, or he might as well shoot himself.
Hog slowly awoke with a splitting headache. Something cold was pressing against his face. His bare chest and arms and legs.
Cold stone.
No exoskeleton.
He jerked his limbs, but found his wrists and legs securely bound behind him. As his eyes blinked open to a series of metal bars in a gloomy stone chamber, what vestiges of his sense of humor that remained pointedly ignored the irony of finding himself hog-tied naked in a cell.
Yar moved with purpose, rifle at the ready, stalking along the side of the concrete wall to his left. The sounds of the wind and rustle of every footfall of his boots in the grassy verge filled his focus. The gentle rumbles and humming of the scattered anomalies were comfortingly familar noises. Against the invisible monstrosity they might be his last line of defense. The geiger counter's click was there too, but he'd been a stalker so long now that the sound itself barely registered. It was almost a fully integrated sense at this point. Even so, the sinister meaning behind the clicking wasn't to be taken lightly. The Chernobyl NPP grounds was littered nasty pockets of radiation, and the monster wouldn't be taking a detour around them like he had to.
He felt he'd done a good job staying safe, all things considered, but deep down he knew he was in deep shit. Days of poor rest and exposure to radiation and the elements had left him sluggish and nauseous, not unlike when he'd still been smoking the herb in the old Freedom days. It's just it was more than that. He could feel the weariness creeping up on him, slowly worming it's way into his bones. His whole body ached. At first it was easily attributed to tiredness, but now it was becoming a dull burn coiling through all his muscles and innards. The denial about the kind of radiation dose that most stalkers didn't survive was fading.
Death from radiation poisioning wasn't something that they'd talked about much back in the day. The perils of mutants, fanatics and anomalies were the source of many a tall tale, but radiation was the silent killer. Many a stalker would start getting a thick, wet cough; or the shits; or burning pains and shivers throughout their body that were clearly more than just some bad food or a bad cold. They'd put on a brave face and try to laugh it off. And within a few days they'd have disappeared, and their friends would lament at how the mutants had finally caught brave Dimi.
But they knew deep down. Knew the poor bastard had curled up somewhere in agony until they'd found the desperation to shoot themselves.
So with every step, every stab of pain in his gut and rasping breath Yar took that carried him around the edge of the power plant's massive walls, he knew he was fucked.
In the distance, two figures danced. He raised his eye to his scope.
He wasn't quite as fucked as the smaller of the two figures, a man without a gun, facing off with against the horrific bloodsucker.
There was probably a set of old crutches somewhere in the ruined hospital just a few blocks away, but backtracking past a pack of dogs was suicide. Strelok had to press on. Leaning against walls, supporting himself on irradiated trucks, whatever it took, he hobbled through Pripyat.
The razor-sharp focus of the experienced stalker was gone, crushed by the cruel indignity of being helpless before jaws of death that refused to shut. By all rights, he should be dead, his body wanted to be dead but that omnious edifice of concrete on the horizon was taunting him.
So, one agonizing step after another.
The distant figures were slashing and feinting at each other; motions heavy, bodies weary. The mutant bloodsucker was instantly recognisable, a terrifying silhouette that dwarfed it's opponent. The other, a man in an exoskeleton armed with some kind of knife, slowly backing away from the beast ahead of him. At this distance, it was impossible to tell exactly where the bloodsucker had taken the two bullets, but it was favouring it's left side. Claws and steel baited each other, held by shaky arms like boxers in the final round.
It was hard to be sure, but Yar doubted either had spotted him. Now was his chance to finish the big fucker off.
He stalked forwards, rifle at the ready. With the way these two were constantly moving, dancing erratically around each other, a shot at this range held little certainty. He'd need to get closer. That is, unless the poor bastard of man was pounced by the monster. Then it'd hopefully stop to feed. A fatal mistake.
Yar had no idea who the man was, through the dirt and bloodstains he couldn't even make out the livery on the exosuit. Even so, he felt a surge of camaraderie for the fellow. How long since he'd seen a friendly face? He was a loner by nature but seeing that someone, even just one man, had managed to survive to this point too sparked fresh hope in him. For a moment he even forgot the cruel certainty of death by radiation poisoning.
This was the final test for Sickle. Death was facing him in the form of colossal bloodsucker. Ten feet of gnarled black muscle and long vicious claws. If there were supernatural forces from the Monolith inside, they were favouring him. He would already be dead if it weren't for the blood streaming from bullet-holes in it's hide. Whoever it's last victim was, they'd gone down fighting and given him a chance.
It had crept up on him, to his shame, and tried to jump him as he was finishing his poor excuse for a meal. A sudden screetch and pounding of footsteps upon the earth as it rushed from the shadows, barreling into him. The wounds had made it sloppy, and connecting poorly with 130kg of metal-clad man at high speed had left them both scrabbling around on the floor. Maybe another man would have died then, but this predator had met it's match in Sickle. Even as claws raked at his faceplate, his mailed fist slammed into the side of it's head.
He tried to go for the kill there and then, but it's long arms left an inpenetrable flurry of claws as it retreated, concussed. So they found themselves at an impasse, two merciless killers on the edge of death.
Sickle had to admit, it was looking bad. The gunshot wounds weren't draining it's stamina like he'd hoped. With the shorter arms and only his sickle, he was at a disadvantage. Trying to go on the offensive now, in full view of the thing would get him torn apart. So step by step he circled, carefully avoiding the thing's attempts to corrall him into a corner. Waiting for an opportunity to counter-attack.
It didn't come.
His boot slipped on some debris and he stumbled. In the blink of an eye, he was on the floor, fending off as it ripped and scraped at his exosuit. He'd caught one arm with the sickle as it charged, cutting deep into the flesh as it tried to hold it back, but to no avail. There was no time to think. Just a mad panic, shoving and punching at the thing as it's claws slashed.
And then it exploded off him in a deafening crack. Gore showered him as it's body was thrown away, nearly ripped in two at the torso. He lay there, hyperventilating, heart pounding, lenses obscured by blood.
Yar approached the man, still laying there on the ground. He was breathing, his chest visibly pulling air through the abused facemask filters. There was blood everywhere, mostly the bloodsucker's, but there was no telling how deep it's claws had managed to rip before he shot it.
His rifle was still in his hands until he was standing over the two of them, observing the snapped spine and mangled innards spilling out from the mutant. He slung the SVD over his shoulder and squatted down, holding out his hand. The man below him grasped it shakily, and with herculean effort Yar managed to pull him into a sitting position. Even up close, the fresh blood made it impossible to identify him. At a best guess, Yar would have said a loner from the lack of the brash red of Duty or yellow of Freedom used on most exosuits.
"Thank you." came the monotone, emotionless words of gratitude. One of the Monolith. No one else could speak like that after being mauled. Yar stood and watched him for a moment, half expecting a futile attempt on his life. When none came, he left him be and walked round to look at the horrific monstrosity he'd shot. Superficially a lot like a large bloodsucker, but with far thicker hide and overdeveloped claws. Also, the tell-tale blade lodged in it's arm.
Yar sat down next to the man, rummaging through his pockets for any scraps that could be used for first aid. He was one of Strider's old squad, the oddballs with amnesia.
"I barely recognised you Sickle, with all that blood on you. Don't tell me you tried to stab all the mutants to death?"
"Not far from the truth."
Yar carefully poked around the damage to the exosuit, investigating the tears in the kevlar and fabric. Some were obviously older, with dried blood mixing with fresh. He slowly checked across the torso and arms, wiping away the grime to see if there was any life-threatening bleeding. Then again, he supposed anyone sensible would need a life-threatening brain injury to deliberately find themselves sitting where they were. The worst was a nasty laceration down Sickle's left side, still bleeding profusely, but at least the bulky exosuit layers made it easy to pack in some scraps of cloth for compression and re-appropriate straps on the torn sections of metal to hold it all in place.
The bad news was that the metal exo-skeleton structure itself was totalled. Yar wouldn't like to take a restoration like this on in his workshop, let alone out here. The whole thing needed to be stripped off, leaving the bulky radiation and kevlar undersuit. They worked in silence, carefully removing the servos using scraps to slowly unscrew and unfasten the innumberable joints and connectors needed for it function. For Yar, it felt therapeutic to finally be doing something mechanical again. A tiny scrap of normalcy.
Here are the collected backstories of all of the characters that come up in the story, set from the perspective of just before the story starts. I'll update this with every chapter I release. Warning: May contain spoilers!
Hiker has been a stalker for longer than most, and has experienced much of the Zone's history first hand. A skilled trekker and pathfinder, he is often found in the wilderness areas of the Zone, trying to reach areas previously undiscovered. Not much of a fighter, he prefers stealth and tactics over pure force.
Garry is a well-known character among stalkers, renowned for discovering routes to Yanov Station and the Jupiter Factory, Eastern Pripyat and other locations in the central Zone, and also one of Barkeep's staff for a time. He is without peer at his trade, and also a skilled artifact hunter. Like many guides, he often avoids combat, and spends much of his time leading people from place to place. A pragmatic man, his past is enigmatic, and there are many rumours that state that he is Guide, the man thought to be first stalker into the Zone and affiliated with Strelok's group.
Forester Faction: None Armour: None Signature Weapon: Custom VSS (Given to Scar) Skills: Groundsman for the Red Forest before the incident
Forester was the caretaker for the Red Forest before the accident in 1986, and now still lives there, keeping his vigil over the forest, helping those in it's deadly clutches to survive. He was instrumental in helping Clear Sky and Scar reach Limansk, and freeing the party of Mercenaries headed by Leshiy.
One of the few ex-Monolithians, he is a giant in stature, bearing many pieces of extremely rare kit, such as his PKM and exoskeleton. Though bearing little to no knowledge of his life before waking up outside of Monolith control, he was obviously one of their heavy-weapons experts, and his time in the Monolith has left him privy to many secrets of the Zone.
Murk is a little-known expert among Freedom's ranks, spending almost all of his time away from his faction, scouting the depths of the Zone. Unlike most stalkers, Murk lives most of his life away any safe stalker camp, sleeping rough and used to scavenging for gear and supplies. After hooking up with fellow Freedom veterans Leshiy and Yar, they began to delve deeper into the center of the Zone, leaving behind the outdated and declining faction war between Duty and Freedom.
Hog Faction: Ex-mercenary Armour: Grey Exoskeleton Signature Weapon: Sig 550 Skills: Long time veteran of the Zone
Hog was one of the best Merc commanders; level-headed and disciplined. After completing his mission in the Army Warehouses, and securing the release of Leshiy from a space anomaly, he remained in the Zone to repay his debt to Kostyan, a freedom expert who saved his life. The disappearance of his close friend Hatchet and his squad initially led him to the Northern Zone.
Max Faction: Freedom Armour: Guardian of Freedom Suit Signature Weapon: Custom SVU; Gauss rifle Skills: Master Sniper, Freedom Second in Command
Max is a reclusive character, Lukash's right hand man and chief scout after the emission storms wracked the Zone. Ruthless and focused, he is one of the few that has the skills necessary to live on his own almost without need of the main stalker safe zones.
One of the oldest of the real stalkers in the Zone, who spent time hiking through the wilderness before coming there. He's the undisputed master of tuning all kinds of weapons for marksman purposes in the Zone, and one of Freedom's crack snipers.
Alexander Degtayrev Faction: Ukrainian Secret Service Armour: Various Signature Weapon: Various Skills: Ex Military Stalker, excellent bargainer and leader
The USS agent responsible for infiltrating the Zone to discover the source of the Fairway disaster, he gained much repute by successfully leading the first team from the Northern Zone into the barely touched residential east side of Pripyat.
Strelok A legend among stalkers, a survivor of the full malice of the Zone and a man bearing the distinctive S.T.A.L.K.E.R tattoo that gave him his nickname 'The Marked One'.
