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From the Zone with love	By : deepsearuin Category: +S through Z > S.T.A.L.K.E.R: Shadows of Chernobyl Views: 943 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own S.T.A.L.K.E.R., nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
The weather was always unpleasant in the Great Swamp. There was a permanent dampness in the air, and fog always covered patches of both land and water. Even when the sun shone the light appeared to be weak and lacklustre. None of this bothered Doc much, he was used to it. The only thing that irritated him were the mosquitoes, but thankfully those only appeared in summer. All things considered, living in the swamps was a pretty peaceful life.
However, there had been an unusual amount of activity around here lately. The bandits were on the move again and there had been several firefights that echoed along the marsh. Perhaps they were fighting among themselves again, it would not be the first time. Of course, none of them knew Doc also lived in the swamp, he preferred the peace anonymity granted. Only a few stalkers knew the exact place where he lived, and most of them were dead. Perhaps all of them had died by now, he wasn't sure. It was possible Strelok managed to survive, but Doc wouldn't get his hopes up, he knew it was a remote possibility.
"I guess it's just you and me now." Doc patted the head of his remaining friend. He always liked dogs, and while most people would not consider a pseudo-dog to be pet material, to Doc he would always be that little puppy he rescued from a bloodsucker.
A dark formation of clouds was gathering in the sky, but the day remained calm for now. Still, it would be better to turn around and head back home before the storm began. He hadn't found any wild fleshes or boars today, and while his stores of canned food would last for another month at least, fresh meat was always nice.
"Let's go back home, Druzhok." The pseudo-dog regarded him with its yellow eyes and barked happily. "Yes, I'll get you some dinner."
Following Druzhok was the quickest way to find the right path in the swamp. The pseudo-dog knew how to get back home and had a sixth sense that allowed him to avoid anomalies. It was always interesting to watch the mutant find new paths between the reeds.
Their current path led them close to the old village. Doc was careful to make as little noise as possible around the village ruins, since it was a base of bandits. Or were they renegades? It was difficult to tell the difference, as far as he knew they were the same. Such a nasty lot, all of them. And of course, his PDA had to start beeping like crazy just in that moment. Christ on a crutch, that electronic device had the worse timing!
Doc scurried away, hidden between the bushes and praying that nobody had heard the insistent beeping of his PDA. Thankfully, no one seemed to be following him. The blasted thing continued beeping all the time, it was certainly alarming. What could have happened that warranted such an amount of messages circulating around? The last time his device went crazy like this was after the Big Emission.
Once he was home, Doc took out the PDA from his pocket and went to check the messages with certain apprehension. He started reading them and stared at the screen incredulously. All this commotion for some gossip?! Unbelievable. Was it really that important that a loner and a merc had been making out? Stalkers these days, they had some strange idea of... Wait. The loner was Marked One? That was how Strelok was named during his time with amnesia. Strelok was alive! Doc smiled happily, that was wonderful news. And then he put all the pieces together. Wait a minute; Strelok had a fling with a mercenary? How in the world did that happen?
Last time he'd seen Strelok, he still called himself Marked One and was about to embark in a trip to Pripyat to find the truth behind the Wish Granter. When had he found time to... No, this made no sense. To make matters worse, the description of said mercenary was eerily reminiscent of that one merc who gave Strelok's group so many problems. It was not possible, right? It must be another person, or another mercenary.
With a sigh, Doc decided to not give further thought to this silly gossip. Pondering about the possibilities made his head hurt. Besides, he had urgent matters to attend, like feeding Druzhok. The pseudo-dog had been whining at his feet for quite some time now, demanding the food he had been promised.
#
"I don't understand why you want to go to Cordon," Strelok said exasperated.
"Because I don't think we have any other option." Scar's patience was starting to run thin, and it showed. "I would prefer to not die in a suicidal charge when there are other choices."
Alright, he got him there. Their current road was blocked. Worse, it was being patrolled by the military. Strelok had no idea when the military claimed such a strong position in Agroprom, but he didn't like it. He decimated their improvised base last time he visited, and now there were even more of them walking around. They even had a helicopter surveying the area!
Loathe as he was to admit it, the mercenary was right. In their current situation, it was much better to go to Cordon than try their luck against the military and their chopper. At least not without an RPG-7. Even if they were further away than this one, there were two well known entry points to the Great Swamp in Cordon.
"Fine, we'll do it your way." Strelok sighed, although he still thought that waiting until it was dark and sneaking past the patrol wasn't such a bad idea.
A detour through Cordon wouldn't delay them much. They would have to go across Garbage first, but it was a pretty straightforward route. Garbage was oddly populated for being a place well known for its bandit attacks. It was very common to find rookies and other stalkers scavenging the trash piles, or making camp for a few hours by the side of the road. It was also fairly easy to find bands of roving bandits, trying to impose a toll to cross into Garbage or simply robbing people in a more direct fashion. Their trek between scrap heaps was thankfully uneventful and soon they were out of there.
An empty army outpost marked the entry into Cordon. It felt weirdly nostalgic, almost like going to your old hometown. Or so he imagined. Strelok did not remember which city was his hometown. Not all his memories came back, he still had some blank spaces in his mind. Not many, but mostly concerning his life before the Zone. And the few things he remembered from then were not worth the effort to think about them.
Walking down this road was so familiar he could do it with his eyes closed. He wouldn't really do so, of course, you could fall right into an anomaly if you weren't careful. The day was nice and peaceful, so different from other areas, like Yantar or Red Forest. No wonder the rookie camp was here, this was indeed the nice and easy part of the Zone. And it could still be as deadly as any other place.
The peace was broken when the sky started to darken ominously and sirens started blaring in warning. Someone had set a really nice alarm system, potent enough to reach all corners of the Cordon. Strelok and Scar looked at each other and broke running towards the nearest building, which turned out to be the old farm. Luckily, it was a loner camp and not inhabited by bandits. That would have complicated things. A dozen of stalkers were huddled inside, listening as the psi energy built up outside.
"Fuck, these things didn't use to happen so often." Scar complained.
"You sound like a grumpy old man," Strelok told him. But Scar was right.
The Zone was indeed more unstable now than it was months before. If they were still around, would Clear Sky have blamed Strelok for this? He suspected the answer was yes. The worst part was it might actually be his fault, because... His train of thought was interrupted when he caught part of some whispered comments from the loners.
"Do you think it's them? They sort of fit the description."
"Probably. How many stalkers do you know that travel alone with a merc?"
Oh fuck, really? Strelok hoped something would happen soon, so people would stop talking about them. He would even settle for another bout of endless Duty vs. Freedom rhetoric, as tedious as it was. Scar didn't appear to have heard the gossiping rookies, or so he thought until the mercenary got closer and put his arm around Strelok's shoulders. The whispers spread like wildfire, and Strelok shoved him away.
Waiting for the emission to end was always a tense affair. It didn't matter if it was your first or you fiftieth. There was something deeply unsettling in seeing how the daylight quickly died out and then a flare of red light illuminated everything like an explosion. Hopefully, after this, there wouldn't be another blowout for a few days at the very least.
Once the emission ended Strelok and Scar continued on, followed out of the farm by the furious whispering of the rookies when the merc tried grabbing Strelok's hand. The key word was tried, of course. The asshole was just doing it to mess with the rookies' minds. Most probably.
They followed the train tracks up to a small path that disappeared between the thick bushes. This was it, one of the most well known paths to the marshes. Little by little the trees became sparser along the way as they got further into the road, the grass got taller and the fog made its appearance not long after that. A small smattering of decrepit buildings, cordoned by a pitiful wooden fence full of gaps, marked their arrival to the northern farm.
This place used to be a bandit camp, a nasty surprise for the unwary traveller who just arrived to the fog covered swamps. However, these bandits wouldn't bother anyone ever again. They were all dead, gruesomely so, a mess of congealed blood and deep gouges. Some of them barely looked like a human anymore. Fuck, that didn't bode well.
"Wild dogs or pseudo-dogs?" Strelok asked in a whisper to Scar, who was looking around like he feared something would come out of one of the houses at any moment.
"Or worse," Scar answered in an equally low voice.
Whatever had killed them couldn't be very far. And that was definitely not good. The mist was like a blurry veil over their surroundings, making it difficult to see far away. They both readied their weapons and listened intently, trying to pick up any suspicious noise. But the only thing that could be heard was the slightly distorted croaking of the swamp frogs. It was only logical to think the mutant that killed those bandits had either gone away, or was indeed hidden in one of the houses.
This place was not safe. It could even be a bloodsucker nest. Fuck this. The sensible thing was to discreetly go away before they attracted the wrath of whatever mutant was around. So they hastily left the ruins behind, making sure nothing was following them. The muddy paths along the Great Swamp were difficult to notice sometimes, and it was easy to get lost when the fog got thick. So they chose the clearest path possible and hoped for the best.
Eventually they found another abandoned building. The place was empty, except for the rusted vehicles lined up on the car park. There was a blackened circle full of ashes in one of the buildings, but it was impossible to tell how recent the campfire was. Everything was damp because of the ever present sticky fog, it filtered even inside the building. Although that was kind of expected when there were great chunks of roof missing, or when you could get inside the building through a man-sized hole in the wall instead of using the entrance door.
This barn, or whatever it was, had clearly seen better days, but there were signs that it had been occupied until not so long ago. Apart from the campfire, there were a handful of thin mattresses scattered around. Not to mention the walkway made of wooden planks that went all the way across the room, a clear effort to keep things out of the mud in the ground. They sat on some big crates piled up in a corner, which groaned alarmingly under their weight but ultimately resisted without collapsing.
"Catch," Scar tossed him a can of tourist's delight and Strelok caught it before it hit him in the head.
"I can feed myself, you know." He commented as he opened the can of food.
"Yeah, but you always pick bread." Strelok had been rummaging in his backpack for bread, indeed. He tore the loaf in two and threw half of it to Scar in mock irritation. The mercenary grabbed it mid air.
"So where are you actually going? The swamp is pretty big..." Scar wasn't very subtle in his attempt to fish for information. That was alright, he kinda liked his total failure at subtetly.
"It's complicated," Strelok sighed, evading the question. Scar's non-committal grunt told him the mercenary was disappointed by that answer. Damn, that shouldn't make him feel bad.
"I'm visiting someone who values his privacy, so I can't really tell you." Strelok explained between mouthfuls of bread and canned meat. Scar nodded, and that tiny gesture of understanding made Strelok feel slightly better. "Where are you going?"
"I don't exactly know," Scar confessed, "but I have an approximated idea."
"You don't know?" Strelok found that hard to believe. How could he not know the location of a base where he'd been before?
"Look, Clear Sky was very secretive about their base, the blindfolding people kind of secretive," Scar sounded irritated by that. Strelok found the whole situation amusing. "I just know it's somewhere on the southern fringes of the swamp."
"You could have tracked someone's PDA signal and then you would know where the base was." It was a very basic trick, even rookies knew that one.
Scar said something about not knowing how to do it as he dug into his can of food. Strelok snorted because, really, he was so easily surpassed by technology, just like an old man. Although Scar wasn't that old, was he? It was difficult for Strelok to guess his age. He supposed the mercenary was, at top, about ten years older than him.
The sunlight died out quickly, smothered by the fog and the late hour, and by the time they finished eating it was nearly impossible to see anything without turning on the flashlights. They debated about lighting a fire or not, and in the end decided to not. The firelight could give away their position easily. So to keep the chill at bay they wrapped themselves in their sleeping bags and set to sleep. It wasn't necessary to keep watch, years of living in the Zone made Strelok a very light sleeper. If anyone, human or mutant, tried to get in the building, he would hear it long before it was inside.
#
The Great Swamp had nothing great about it. Scar detested its heavy smell, the perpetual mist and the tall reeds and grass covering everything. To make things worse, it had been raining since they woke up at dawn. It was just a light drizzle, but after a while it got you as drenched as any other kind of rain.
Truly, the highlight of the day had already happened, when upon waking up he noticed Strelok had rolled closer to him during the night, and the stalker was now pressed against him. It felt nice, even through the layers of the sleeping bags. It would be great to forget about the dreadful swamp out there and stay like this all morning. But alas, it wasn't meant to happen. After waking up, and expertly ignoring the fact he'd been cuddled up to him, Strelok wanted to get going. Swallowing his disappointment, Scar agreed with him.
Surprisingly, the main road was inaccessible. The bridge was barred by an overturned truck and a couple of abandoned jeeps, so they had to search for another path. And soon Scar rediscovered the nightmare it was to navigate the small paths criss-crossing the Swamp.
The water in the Great Swamp was a murky, irradiated soup with pieces of debris sticking out, and the bones of mutants and careless stalkers resting below the surface. Getting into it was a terrible idea, and that without counting the possibility of getting sucked into an anomaly. Because yes, anomalies did appear underwater too. There were a handful of wooden bridges interconnecting different areas of the swamp, and a lot of shabby walkways hastily put together by stalkers who wanted more crossing points. Finding them was easy; navigating the maze of walkways and dirt paths hidden between the tall reeds was harder. It was a common occurrence to go in circles for a while until you noticed your mistake. And that was exactly what happened to them. It didn't help that the fog never truly went away, it was still there, dulling their surroundings. Some trees' silhouette were visible in the distance, but no matter in what direction they went, everything always seemed to be in the same place.
"Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" He asked to the stalker. Scar was sure he'd seen this same piece of rubble sticking out of the water several times before.
"I'd say yes, but so we thought the last time." Strelok sighed in defeat. He pointed at a certain walkway to their left. "The only way we haven't tried yet is that one, and well..."
"Yeah, I get it." As if the faint distortion in the air wasn't proof enough of an anomaly's presence, the water around the walkway formed a curiously rounded hill, the planks also bent over the mound of water.
"Do you think –" Strelok abruptly stopped talking. Scar had heard something too.
A horrifying humanoid creature appeared out of thin air, running in front of them, and then disappeared again. It had an unhealthy greenish colour and was covered with patches of moss. With its unhealthy colouring and mottled skin, it looked like a corpse that had been rotting on the irradiated waters. That illusion of being weirdly human was completely broken by its lambent eyes and the tentacles around its horrifying mouth. It looked different than any other bloodsucker he'd seen, but that was definitely some kind of bloodsucker.
Shit, if there was something capable of making any situation a thousand times worse, it was this. It was nearly impossible to shoot something that you could not see and moved unnaturally fast. Strelok started running in the opposite direction and Scar followed suit. Behind them, the reeds parted to let something invisible pass through, something that was chasing them.
The otherwise undetectable creature became visible again and jumped at Scar, its claws reaching for him. He evaded the mutant's attack, but he stumbled and fell to the ground. The mutant towered over him and opened its mouth tentacles, revealing uneven rows of pointed teeth. Strelok whirled around and shot at the mossy creature with his shotgun, but the mutant shrugged it off and became invisible before stalking away.
"Thanks," Scar was very appreciative of Strelok's fast reflexes, he didn't fancy being a bloodsucker's snack.
It would be very naive to think the creature had really gone away. No, it would be lurking nearby, ready to jump at them when they least expected it. They marched on, hyper-vigilant and startled by any sound. Something jumped in the water and they both swivelled towards the sound, weapons in hand. It was a bloated, white thing; probably a frog, or some kind of mutated fish, who knows. The reeds on their left swayed ominously, despite the lack of wind. Scar fired in that direction, but nothing happened. The sensation of being spied never went away.
Be it by dumb luck or divine providence, they eventually arrived to a clearing, with charred remnants of houses in the middle of it. That meant they finally stopped walking in circles across the walkways. And still not another sighting of the ugly son of a bitch, despite the constant feeling of being observed. Distracted as they were, neither of them though about throwing some bolts to check the suspiciously blackened terrain around the houses.
Strelok was the first to step where he shouldn't, and a column of fire rose right before him. He jumped back, smashing himself against Scar's chest, and luckily got away with just a singed boot and a minor burn on the sleeve of his suit. The bloodsucker growled in pain when it stepped on another burner, and then went away. It was strange to see the flames lick up something invisible, it was like the flames were suspended mid air.
The burners certainly acted like a barrier between the mutant and them. The mossy son of a bitch seemed to have banished after nearly getting roasted. Now they could breathe easier. Or so they thought. After leaving the charred clearing and crossing another walkway, they suddenly found themselves face to face with a group of well armed people. All the newcomers wore their hoods up and covered their faces with balaclavas or scarves. They looked like a ragtag bunch of bandits, or worse, renegades. And it was pretty damn impossible to do anything when you had at least half a dozen weapons aimed at you.
"Drop all your weapons and kick them forward." One of the guys ordered them. He was almost identical to any of the other bastards around them, down to the ever present balaclava, which only served to emphasize his bulging, frog like eyes.
With the utmost care, Scar left his Vintar in the muddy ground and threw the Martha as well. By the corner of the eye, he saw Strelok doing the same with his shotgun and the SIG. They didn't ask for any other weapon, so neither Scar nor Strelok volunteered their knives. Even if they would be useless in a gunfight, it was better than nothing.
"Good. Now we're going to take a walk, Butcher will want to ask you some questions."
Two other guys stepped forward and poked at them with their respective rifles to make them follow the frog eyed guy. What choice did they have but to obediently follow? Nevertheless, this did not bode well. Butcher must be these scumbags' boss, and with such a call sign Scar imagined having a chat with him would not be a pleasant experience.
#
As Strelok soon discovered, this was way worse than when Scar tied him back in Limansk. At least Scar never pressed his weapon's muzzle between his shoulder blades every two seconds. Now he felt like he was being guided and prodded like cattle, completely at the mercy of their captors. They looked like bandits or renegades, and for them asking some questions meant beating the shit out of you while they asked the same two questions all the time.
A faint buzz of machinery could be heard in the distance, growing stronger the more they walked. However, they never arrived to the intended destination. An invisible entity leapt out of the reeds around them, pinned one of the renegades to the ground and jumped away with the screaming man. The screaming stopped abruptly soon after that. Of course, this left everyone nervous and screaming at each other, but no one really wanted to go searching for the guy that disappeared. While the renegades argued, the creature leapt back again, pinning another guy to the ground. The fucking moss covered bloodsucker had followed them, but at least now it was attacking their captors. All hell broke loose. The renegades started shooting at the thing, but the guy on the ground was as good as dead. The creature went away with its victim, presumably to feast on the unlucky guy.
But getting rid of the creature was not that easy, as Scar and Strelok already knew. It came back again. And this time it was intent on killing anyone in front of it, probably angry they were shooting at it. Strelok dodged out of the way just in time to avoid being mauled by the creature, instead leaving the path clear for a renegade to get its throat bitten off by the mutant. In the reigning chaos, no one was actually keeping an eye on them. He looked at Scar and the mercenary understood his wordless message, for he nodded once before he started running. They disappeared between the reeds, leaving behind the renegades and the strange bloodsucker. Strelok prayed they wouldn't find another one of these creatures, fighting it armed only with a knife would suck majorly. Actually, encountering any mutant would suck majorly, he didn't want to try his luck against a boar either.
The screams from the renegades and the echo of gunshots followed them. Perhaps it was only the sounds of their fight with the creature, or perhaps they had noticed Scar and Strelok's escape and were following them. He wasn't going to wait and see if they were indeed being chased, so Strelok ran after Scar as best as he could.
However, it was not easy to run when the mud seemed to suck his boots in, trying to trap him. And the vegetation slapped him on the face as it whipped back and forth as they ran. Although going through the shallow pools of water in their way was the worst. He stumbled with a rotten tree branch and fell face first into the water. Ugh, he was so going to need at least a half a bottle of vodka to get rid of all the radiation. After he got up again he continued running for a while, and then he noticed he had no idea where Scar was. To be fair, the tall reeds usually blocked his field of vision completely, but Scar was usually easy enough to notice. And he was nowhere to be seen.
Damn, he'd been right in front of Strelok just before he got his foot stuck in that tree branch! Strelok continued walking forward, hoping he would eventually catch up with Scar. But he saw no one; not Scar, neither the renegades nor another mutant. Eventually, he arrived back to the burnt clearing where they had been captured.
A rustle in the nearby bushes got his attention, and Strelok watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach as the vegetation parted and a pseudo-dog came out. Just great, his luck never ceased to amaze him. The pseudo-dog regarded him with its yellow eyes and then ran towards him, barking like crazy. Before he had time to react, the dog jumped at him and sent him toppling to the ground. However, instead of the expected bite, he felt the dog's tongue happily slobbering over his face.
#
Doc had been enjoying his daily walk when Druzhok suddenly ran away. Surely it would be a flesh, or a boar, nothing to worry about. The pseudo-dog liked to hunt his own food whenever it was possible. Nonetheless, he chased after him.
When he emerged from the reeds into a clearing, the sight that greeted him was unexpected. Druzhok had pushed someone to the ground and now was sitting by the man's side, looking incredibly satisfied with himself. However, it was the stalker that caught Doc's attention
"Strelok? Is that really you?" Doc was could scarcely believe his eyes.
"Doc," Strelok panted as he got up. "I always told you that dog of yours was a menace."
Doc chuckled at that, flooded by memories of all the other times he heard that. It was a nice moment, only slightly tarnished by the ghosts of their missing friends. They should have been here as well, Ghost complaining about how Druzhok always tried to bite his ankles, and Fang bribing the dog with diet sausages. But now wasn't the time for melancholy. He should focus on the important part: against all odds, Strelok wasn't lost to the Wish Granter.
Doc helped him get up. "What are you doing here?"
"I told you I would come to visit if I survived, right?" Strelok cleaned his face with the sleeve of his suit, smudging mud over his cheek. "I always try to keep my promises. But then the renegades ambushed us and took all our stuff."
"Yes, they're like a plague. I think they are at war with someone, fighting over the control of the Swamp." Doc explained, and then he registered what Strelok said. "Our stuff?"
"I was travelling with someone," he replied, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "But it appears I lost him."
Oh. That was new. Doc remembered the gossip floating around, but he put it out of his mind. He should know better than to put much stock in some ridiculous hearsay.
"Let's go back, I'll prepare some tea and you can tell me about your last trip to the centre of the Zone."
They walked together, following Druzhok through the winding paths of the swamp. The pseudo-dog was always some steps ahead, looking back every now and then to make sure they followed him. Doc's home was hidden somewhere in the middle of the swamp. The moss and lichens growing on the roof helped make it go unnoticed among the surrounding vegetation. Up close, however, it was impossible not to notice how well tended the house was. At least in comparison to the rest of the ruins littering the Great Swamp. And thanks to his dedication, the inside could almost be called cozy.
Strelok plopped down on the worn couch, while he put a pot of water on the fire and grabbed two cups and a package of dried leaves. It was a mix of five different tea packages he'd accumulated over time, and it honestly had a peculiar taste. Nevertheless, stalkers were not overly picky about what they ate or drank, and if the taste was truly horrible, well, you could always add some vodka to improve it.
"You said you were travelling with someone?" Doc asked while they waited for the water to boil, or at least to be hot enough.
"Scar, a merc. We met in Limansk" Strelok said.
Doc wasn't sure what he found more unbelievable, the fact Strelok teamed up with a mercenary, or the fact they had been in Limansk. The old secret city was supposedly inaccessible.
"Sounds like quite the tale." He sat on the other end of the couch and poured a handful of dried leaves in the cups. Druzhok settled at his feet, as he always did, crushing Doc's achy bones with his considerable weight.
Then Strelok launched into a retelling of his travels since the last time they met in Strelok's old hideout, on the Agroprom Underground. He didn't stop talking, not even when Doc retrieved the pot of boiling water and filled their cups. When he finished speaking, Strelok finally took a gulp from his now cold tea and grimaced. Doc didn't want to break the contemplative silence, but he had the distinct impression Strelok had omitted certain details from his otherwise long tale. That was fine, really. It was just that Doc was now almost sure this mercenary was indeed the same one who caused Strelok's group so much grief. And there was no nice way to broach the issue.
"Strelok, do you think this new friend of yours could, perhaps, be the same merc who–"
"Yes, he is." Wasn't this the same man who caused Fang's death? Doc had a million question in his mind, yet most of them could be boiled down to "What the actual fuck, Strelok."
"You need to find better friends, son." Doc sighed. The stubborn set of Strelok's mouth told him he would not appreciate further commentary into this issue.
"Anyway, those renegade have our weapons and backpacks, and I want my stuff back." Strelok swiftly changed the direction of the conversation. "Doc, do you still have the old AKM I left you?"
"Yes, as well as an old P99 and some ammo." Judging by Strelok's fierce grin, Doc's answer was exactly what he wanted to hear.
#
He lost Strelok. Fuck, he could have sworn the stalker was right behind him not that long ago. But no matter where he looked, there was no one around. Maybe... maybe a stray bullet hit Strelok in the back, and now he was lying in a pool of his own blood. The idea hit him like a punch to the gut. No, he refused to entertain this idea. Scar decided to track Strelok's PDA, if he could remember how to do it, and find him. But then he discovered the pocket where he always put his own PDA was empty. Shit. It could be literally anywhere.
Combing down the area, searching for his PDA and Strelok –mostly looking for Strelok, if he was being honest– took a lot of time. And no luck so far. But that was good news, right? It meant the stalker was still alive somewhere on this damp hell. And finding his PDA among the mud and the thick vegetation was impossible, so in the end he gave up.
A tall, rusted tower could be seen in the distance, despite the milky haze of the fog. It was a landmark as good as any. He walked down a narrow track between the reeds, created by the passing of mutants and the occasional stalker. When he arrived closer to the tower, he glimpsed a smattering of dilapidated roofs further away. That would be the old fishing hamlet, most probably. There would be a better view of the whole area from the top of the tower.
It wasn't until he emerged out of the narrow trail, and went into the clearing around the tower, that he noticed the group of three stalkers going down the tower's stairs. They all wore the same white and blue camo suit, and seemed as surprised to see him as Scar was to find them. Wasn't the faction supposedly dissolved?
"Are you lost?" One of the stalkers asked him, keeping his weapon in a loose hold. Then recognition slowly dawned on his eyes. "Fuck, not you again merc!"
"Trodnik?" It was impossible to not remember the guide Lebedev assigned to take him in and out of the base. He'd always been kind of a sour asshole.
"You survived, like a cockroach," the stalker spat out. "While good men like Lebedev, Suslov and the rest never came back from that crazy chase of yours."
"It was not my crazy chase. For me it was just another job." If Trodnik had been simmering with anger, Scar was like a cold wall of indifference. The other two stalkers, who Scar didn't recognize, stared at them, unsure of what was going on.
"The boss will decide what to do with you." Trodnik eventually declared. His eyes said he would have preferred to kick him in the head. "Follow me."
The angry stalker led the way, followed by Scar, and the rest of the squad behind them. There were no threats and no weapons drawn, but it was clear they were keeping an eye on his every movement. Trodnik led them along a path that went into the edge of the swamp territory, until they arrived to a fence guarded by a lone stalker. The guide greeted him with a nod and the guard opened the gate. Stepping into the base was like stepping into the past. Except in the past, this place was bustling with activity, and now he only saw a pitifully small group of stalkers. The faction may have not dissolved, but it certainly was nearly extinct.
"Hurry up, I don't have all day."
The two new faces accompanying them went towards a shed in the far end of the camp, while Trodnik led him to Lebedev's old office. The room was illuminated by a lone light bulb that flickered irregularly, just as he remembered. Some things never changed, it seemed. There was a man sitting behind the desk, looking at some documents and muttering to himself. When he lifted his head up, Scar was met with yet another familiar face. Cold was the new leader? They surely were short staffed, the man used to be the bartender. A decent guy, but not exactly who he imagined being the boss. The grumpy guide was dismissed with a gesture from Cold, so he went to guard the entrance. What a mistrustful bastard.
"Never thought I'd see you again merc." Cold appeared amused, not angry. A much welcomed change.
"I never thought I'd see you out of your bar." Scar sat on the wobbly chair in front of the desk.
"Didn't leave my old post voluntarily. But believe it or not, now I'm the most veteran Clear Sky member." Cold laughed, but it rang hollow, and his expression was worried. The ex-bartender then reclined on his own chair and adopted the same expression he wore in the past when he haggled with people over the loot they tried to sell him. "I remember you were quite proficient at killing renegades, merc. Would you be up for it once more?"
"Usually I'm paid for my work." Scar reminded him.
"I cannot pay you for your old mission." He said nothing. If Cold believed he was seeking payment for the CNPP fiasco, he wouldn't disabuse him of that notion.
Scar's continued silence was starting to unnerve Cold, who fidgeted in his chair. "Look, I cannot pay you for a mission that wiped out most of our ranks, even if you kept your end of the bargain. But I could pay you for helping us out in cleaning a renegade base."
"I don't think you can afford it." The Clear Sky leader let out a deflated sigh.
Things were not going well for them, anyone with half a brain could tell. Besides, Scar had already been promised a juicy payment, and all he had to do was retrieve some information.
"How about an exchange?" Scar offered him.
"What kind of exchange?" Cold put his elbows on the table and leant forward.
"You see, I was robbed by the renegades, so vengeance sounds really good to me. I just need a weapon with enough ammo." Cold was nodding along, it was a sensible request. Time to go for the kill. "And as compensation for my services I only ask for a copy of all your scientific data."
The stunned silence that followed his proposal stretched way too long. Eventually, Cold regained his bearings.
"Why would a merc want scientific data about the Zone?" One needn't be very observant to notice how wary the man was.
"Professor Sakharov thought it lost and wanted to save the data from oblivion if possible." Yes, that did the trick of appeasing Cold. Studying and understanding the Zone, as well as collaborating with the scientists, were the original goals of Clear Sky. And Professor's Sakharov good reputation was legendary.
"As long as you remember to mention to him how Clear Sky is always willing to cooperate with the ecologists, then I agree." Smart of him. And most important, Scar would get his payment and the opportunity to kill the bastard that took his Vintar.
Everyone was happy with the outcome, except Trodnik, who let out a huff of displeasure from his spot on the door, but Scar didn't give a damn about his opinion. It was decided then, Scar would help a couple of Clear Sky stalkers clear out the renegade base at the Pumping Station. They gave him a Kora-919, which was honestly in a better condition than he had expected. And even better, Trodnik would not be in the group accompanying him. Cold detected their mutual dislike and wisely decided to keep them as far away from each other as possible.
The guys that were to accompany him were new recruits, an enthusiastic rookie called Senya Spaghetti, and a veteran ex-loner by the name of Moss. Moss claimed to know the swamps like the back of his hand, which was good, because without his PDA map Scar had no idea of where to go. Well, it was time to go renegade hunting. Just like in the old days. Moss lived up to his promise and led them straight to the Pumping Station, the familiar rumble of old machinery getting louder and louder the closer they got. The problems began when they bumped into a pair of boars. The mutants were angry at their presence, and they only got angrier when the rookie shot at them with his sawn-off shotgun. The boar charged against the rookie and threw him flat on his back. Killing the mutants was a waste of bullets, so Scar was more than happy to let the rookie and Moss deal with the issue. After all, he was hired to kill renegades, not mutants.
Unfortunately, the sound of their shots was loud enough to give away their position. Another two shots were heard, coming from their left, and then Moss stumbled back before falling to the ground. The man was bleeding like a stuck pig and had a sizeable hole on his stomach.
A renegade came out of the reeds, still reloading his hunting rifle. The rookie was closest to the renegade and fired his own shotgun. Those were good reflexes, maybe he could become a half decent stalker if he survived. Scar finished off the screaming renegade while the terrified rookie reloaded his weapon. The man fell to the mud, half of his face blown off by the shot.
Meanwhile, Moss had stopped convulsing and moving, although he was still alive, barely so. Judging by the way he kept bleeding, he wouldn't last much. Senya was freaking out, trying to apply pressure to the massive wound and achieving nothing. The merciful thing would be to put Moss out of his misery. Scar pointed at him with his gun, but then Moss stopped breathing. There was literally nothing they could do for him now.
The Pumping Station was so close Scar could hear the renegades shouting at each other from here, despite the buzz of the machinery. They had undoubtedly heard the shots and were getting ready for an offensive. Staying here like sitting ducks was the worst possible idea, better to attack while they still weren't completely ready. Besides, a moving target was more difficult to hit.
"Alright, we're going in now. Keep after me until we arrive to the Pumping Station and you might have a chance to stay alive." He said to the remaining stalker.
Without giving him time to answer, Scar got going. He didn't bother to check if the rookie was following him or not. It wouldn't be the first time he wiped out a camp by himself, and being honest, he wasn't counting on anyone's help.
The renegades were expecting them. In fact, there was one patrolling one the closest access walkway. Even at this distance, Scar saw him perfectly well. Missing his Vintar more than ever, he risked shooting at the unsuspecting bastard. A couple of shots, just to be sure. The bullets hit him, one on the thigh and the other on the stomach, and now the man was bleeding and screeching like a banshee. Another bullet, this time on the chest, silenced him permanently.
Scar ran to the dead guy. He'd been carrying an AK, and Scar wanted it. Having more than one weapon was always a good idea, especially during an assault. But he was careless and didn't check if there was anyone else coming. Another renegade came to investigate the death of his comrade and caught Scar out of cover, running across the wooden plank. Fuck.
Scar knew he wouldn't be fast enough to dive out of the way before he was shot. A loud shot rang out, and the renegade fell down like a ragdoll. He was dead before he touched the ground. Scar wasn't going to question his luck, really, but he didn't understand what just happened. Or at least he didn't get it until he saw him, wielding a Dragunov almost as tall as him, looking like the angel of death. Maybe he hadn't been counting on anyone's help, but Strelok's presence was reassuring.
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From the Zone with love