Issac flipped quietly through his father's notes, muttering quietly to himself as he read. "Jesus Christ, you were a terrible artist..." His father had been kind enough to attempt at drawing what a possible 'pseudodog' may have looked like, but his artistic skills were extremely poor. At the very least he made it up with the fact that he annotated everything decently and was thorough in his descriptions.
"Uh, alright... Umm... Jeeze... I can't really tell too well if it's a, ah... Pseudodog, or not... It's a mutt, but not as big as the ones you'd usually find in the Zone, apparently... If it is a pseudodog though, aim for the head. They've apparently got enough muscle mass to take a few rounds, but their heads aren't as tough. I think... Just... Headshot, yea..."
"Give me the goggles and I can creep up and slit it's throat If you want." L'Esprit cocks her head with almost feline curiosity, "I really am quite good in the dark"
If this woman really thought Rachel was gonna hand over her gear so she could go play with a dog and who knows what else in the dark, then she was only courting disappointment.
Before anyone else consented, the detective hauled himself forward of the car, growling. "Get your Mercedes into high gear and drive us past it or ram it out of the way. We're wasting enough time with a stray dog!"
"It's a clever trick" L'Esprit grins, "Mostly I just want the goggles." She shrugs, "But seriously, yes, just shoot the thing or drive past it. I mean, is it really worth our time?"
This kind of thoughtlessness did little to endear L'Esprit to Rachel, but she agreed with her and the detective's point. "Make a decision. The longer we stick around, the more likely others will show up."
Dex keyed the radio. "I have chems that can act in anywhere from 30 seconds to 3 minutes - on an elephant. I don't want a head shot - I want muscle mass. Now how big is the fucker and should I worry about the dart not puncturing the skin unless I get the Rhino darts out?"
"Use this," Rachel said as she held out her NVG for Dexter to use. Something inside of her twitched to make the shot in his place, but she didn't want to ruffle his feathers over something so small. Rachel decided she'd be the spotter this time and offer her support.
The debate on how to deal with the… creature down the road continued by Dexter ignored it as his hands moved through motions as well ingrained as anything his combat instructors in Lejeune had taught him. In effect, he was mixing the cocktail of opioids, enzymes and general sedatives on the fly here. It was the only option Dexter had given that he had little more than guess work and an old journal to decide on what he would sea. Now though he had more information.
He really hoped that no one would ever take a good look at what these vials were though he thought as he reached for an enzyme that increased onset time. Some of the stuff he had here was more potent then morphine by several orders of magnitude. Another vial he had, so he was told, sold on the Hong Kong black market for over $150,000. In hindsight that could very well explain why his employers had partnered him with Talon – less protection from the wildlife and more from other people.
He shunned the thoughts away as he slide the finished and fully loaded dart, iconic pink fluffy tail included, into the chamber of the air rifle and closed it all with a solid click of the locking mechanism. The whirr of the pricey SUV's moon roof was loud in the night but ended quickly enough as Dexter poked his upper body into the silent foggy dusk.
He could make out the shadowy form of the creature ahead of them and confirmed it with a glance through the offered night vision devices. He glanced over to their guide. "I feel like this is not even going to be the weirdest thing I do this trip, you know?" He said quietly as he propped the rifle up on the roof before settling down to take aim. "You know – someone with an actual gun might want to stand by in case I fucked the dosage up you know?" He said offhand as he let his breathing settle.
His finger squeezed the trigger down and he stopped as he felt the guns' internal mechanisms shift. He let a final breath out as he let his finger continue its motion. The action was nearly silent as the dart emerged from the gun and lofted its way through the air – more like a badminton then a bullet. Dexter's breath held as he watched its path and wondered if it would hit – and if the creature before them would even care.
_____The dart rifle was louder than Journalist had expected. Partially because Dexter was up on the roof right beside her. It sounded like a paintball gun on steroids, a big puff of excess CO2 swirling in front of the muzzle. The dart was a blur on the thermals that turned into a spot of black on the animal's flank, right behind the ear. The impact of the dart was soundless, and the dog didn't have time to yelp or even yawn before it took a half-step and crumpled forward onto its face. Journalist saw the hot plume of its breath stir the dirt after it fell. "Hit. Throat. It's out cold." She lowered the thermals and scanned the murky fog, glancing once to the researcher-mercenary beside her before returning to the FLIR.
_____"Well, that's interesting. Yeah, what Dex said. Get the guns out." Three shapes had emerged right after the animal went down. "I'm seeing three bodies, human, off to our front right. They just appeared from the hills... might be out hunting, or just doing a patrol. Hard to say. They don't see us yet, I don't see any infrared spotlights either. Kill the engines."
_____After a few moments, they could hear the whistling in the distance, the snap of twigs as the strangers came down the hillside. Their alcohol-slurred voices carried where the fog masked their exact location, bits and pieces of Russian reaching the convoy just down the road. Journalist craned her neck and strained to make out the details.
"—and I swear it, the very next day she took the kids and cleared most of our savings! All because of a magic rock I brought from the Zone."
"Haha, you fucking idiot. Of course she runs, who would want to bear your Chernobylite children?"
"Bullshit, do I look like some mutant to you? Where is this thing you saw, anyway?"
"Listen, it was standing right on the road, just like you or me. Then it just vanished. You can see those damn dogs from a kilometer away, their eyes catch the moonlight like mirrors. There's nothing else like it."
"Okay, where is it?"
"Just a bit further, should be by that fallen tree to our right."
"You two, stop acting like fucking rookie boys and keep your heads down!"
_____Journalist watched the two swaying and chatting, their leader shaking a fist at them as their voices tapered off. All things considered, she wasn't too concerned. They probably couldn't see farther than just in front of their faces, and the veteran might have had passive NVGs at best. "Two rookies and a veteran. I can't say with certainly on thermals, but they've got some hunting weapons, civilian shit and a motorcycle helmet. Maybe riding leathers. Probably from the Bandits. They initiate their newcomers in Cordon like this. I say let em do their business and go, but if they wander the wrong way we might be exchanging a few harsh words and bullets this morning."
L'Esprite nods, "No use picking up trouble that we don't need" she frowns, continuing to whisper"I know how much trouble making the wrong people angry can be"
"Angry or not, we can hardly move while they are here - the cars aren't quiet." Dex said quietly has he stashed the rifle back into the SUV. "They might spot us if they close in enough."
Nick stepped forward, trailing the movement of the newcomers. "You're the guide here," he muttered to Journalist. "We'll follow your lead, but if they're halfway sober they'll know we're here. Dexter's pink dart stands out like a sore thumb in this place."
He settled in for the wait, producing a flask from under his coat. It'd be foolish of him to take a smoke now so he opted for a mouthful of bitter spirits.
Talon heard the report of the air rifle, and was surprised at the distinct sound it produced. Nevertheless, with a small smile, she pantomimed throwing a dart as though it would somehow affect the outcome.
"Whoosh."
Moments later, she heard the blonde announce the hit, as well as an order to get her piece out and shut down the Merc. With no reason to object, she did, and with the knowledge of three potential assholes to grease, she sat in the driver seat with a fully loaded sub machine gun in her lap. In moments, her fingerless gloves were on her hands, and Talon was now ready to kick some ass.
She grabbed up the radio and spoke clearly into it.
"So, what's the situation? Are we going to shoot the shit out of those assholes or not?"
@Sushi
Even inside the car, Val's ears heard the distinct *pop-hiss* of an air rifle going off. Soon after she heard Journalist announce over the radio the possibility of a confrontation.
"Since we have a bit of fore warning, it might be advantageous to get whoever has the rifle in cover so we can get some overwatch if things do turn ugly. However, we shouldn't try to provoke anything this soon" She said over the radio.
_____"Grab the dart?" Journalist repeated. "Yeah, it's a good idea but they're almost on it. You'd get shot just trying. Okay, pop these things into neutral, get some muscle on em and push them into the brush." She dug around in her pocket for another handful of bolts, tossing them sharply into the dirt. The metal scraps skipped a few times, gently rustling the brush flanking raised road. She unclipped her belt and swung off the side of the Merc, her shoulder in the brush guards. Every few moments, she would look back toward the thermal signatures down the road, quietly hoping a pack of dogs or a springboard would ruin their day.
_____"Bandits— they hate the military. They wouldn't dare going too close to the checkpoint, so now we wait for a hot minute, " Journalist added. She craned her neck skyward— the sun was coming up soon. Maybe a pack of dogs wouldn't be too bad. Whatever got them to the village soon was perfectly fine by her.
_____"Goddamn, this animal is still warm." The voices echoed up the road, just a stone's toss away from their vehicle hidden in the brush. Journalist held up her finger, looking pointedly to Rachel and Dexter. She peered through her FLIR at the shapes huddled around the dog.
_____"Warm? You idiot, it's still alive!"
_____"Boar, it keeps twitching, sit on its back... there, right there. I'm going to pop this bitch."
_____"Not with these old knees. Pavle, be a good boy and do it for me."
_____"Fuck you, old man! It wouldn't kill you to do some work every now and then, would it?"
_____"Pavle, shut up!"
_____"Ow, fuck! Shit, shit, what the fuck is this? My leg's bleeding like hell!"
_____The veteran Bandit drew a pistol with a stubby cylinder on its barrel and held it on the dog. There was a muted thump as the gun fired, the dog flopping once. Journalist whistled. "Well, now I know the Bandits use silencers. They've been talking about that for a while." One of the rookies started swaying on his feet in a drunken stupor, his exhalation bright on the thermals. "Oh, and Dex? One of them sat on your dart."
_____"Dear mama, today I cut a mutant dog's head off with my knife, and it was disgusting."
_____"Pavle, shut up and put the damn head in the bag."
_____"My leg is bleeding!"
_____"Bullshit, that's a paper cut. It's a needle, dumbass."
_____"But I can't feel my toooooes..."
_____Journalist flashed a thumbs-down as the skinny rookie toppled face-first into the road, slack beside the cooling dog. "Remind me not to piss you off, Dex. One of them is out cold. The bandits are leaving, though they took the dart and dog with em."
_____Spots of heat trailed from the bag the bandits took, as they supported their unconscious comrade between their shoulders. She frowned. "Parts of the dog, anyway."
The naturalist turned mercenary gave their guide a shrug. "Normally the residue on the dart is hardly an issue - Frankly I'm surprised the beast was still alive with what I used." Dex looked through the fog, which given the rising sun was likely to clear out soon - which may not be the best given it left them open on the road. "So could we stop to check out the dog, or will the morning leave us to exposed to risk the delay?"
@Sushi
As the drunken bandits did their work, Val looked around and appreciated just how at least this time, she wasn't the only girl in the group. She whispered to Journalist "So, there are these Bandits, anyone else we should know about to be cautious around?"
_____Journalist waited a few minutes before waving the vehicles forward, making the walk on her own two feet while tossing bolts in her path. Not more than ten feet at a time, each bolt cleaved a straight path at waist level before skipping once and rolling. Soon enough, the bolts thudded into the cooling spot on the FLIR, a neatly dismembered canine, paws, tail, and head severed but otherwise intact. "So, if anyone had a particularly heavy lunch, you might not wanna look down or breathe in too intently... Dex, this what you wanted to see?"
_____She grabbed a particularly stout tree limb and turned the animal over. The ground beneath the animal was sodden with warmth, along with the footprints in the distance. It was gaunt, thin-furred and covered with scabs. "See the patches where the fur came out? That's typical here, sometimes you've got mutts with birth defects running for generations. Their families are older than some of the Chernobylites," Journalist said, feeling much like a discount zone tour guide. She saw everything there was to see at a glance; the corpse was larger than the typical local dog, but it lacked the sort of deformity that made the stalkers run and the researchers pay. "This is pretty par for the course. Might have been blind, might have not been. I'm not sure why they chopped the head off; local traders won't pay for parts of the usual zone animals."
_____Then again, the Bandits grabbing strange, unnecessary souvenirs was new, but not unexpected. Like the silencers. "The Bandits, I'm more worried about them." She spun on her heel, turning to Val. "Who to be cautious around? Well, everyone."
_____She pointed to the lights in the distance. "They say the Zone's a lot like the Russian smile the stalkers bring. It rarely exposes itself to us, but when it does, it's always earnest. A lot of the stalkers are nicer than you would expect. Someone from a rival faction might give you a hand when you're in a pinch..." Journalist brought down her FLIR and rubbed at her eyes. "That's us, the core group of stalkers. We're worried about new guys. You guys. What you're going to change here, how that's gonna change things for us."
"Rookie Village" Nova Radcha, Ukraine
0600 Hours. September 1, 2016
_____They didn't see the bandits after that. They didn't see another living thing for the next few kilometers, in a blanket of inky night interrupted by the distant pop of a rifle from time to time. The Exclusion Zone was something between a battlefield and a wildlife reserve. Journalist glanced at her watch. "You wouldn't believe it's five in the morning, not when it's this dark out."
_____The road was cheap, but serviceable. They were lucky. No anomalies right in their path, no testing what a luxury sedan's suspension would do when crashing over waist-high rocks. They went several sightless kilometers before it reached a fork, a spotlit bridge in the distance. "Left, slow, slow... it's pretty steep." They came level with a shapeless lump in the shadows that materialized into a net-covered dugout. A figure rose in sky-blue fatigues and a heavily festoone vest, raising an AK with a dim red light attached. The beam washed across Journalist, her hand raised and just as quickly turned off. "Hey, Rebel. Talon, you can hit the headlights now, by the way."
_____The wash of white revealed the shape of a flatbed truck jutting from a wood fence, down the western bank of the main path. There was a faded blue bus to its right, by the edge of the road. The fencing made an elongated rectangle, just large enough to hold three houses to the left, west of the road, and three more opposite. It was a pen full of cottages, most with just three or four rooms and just as many windows. Tents were struck between, behind, little ground was left not occupied by a sleeping stalker or their equipment. Some even set up in the clawing wooden beams jutting from rooftops. On the eastern side, a pair of stone doorways slanted into the earth, where lamp-light cascaded out from below the ground. Though it was far out in the wilderness, the area lacked the chirp and trill most of them had come to associate the night with.
_____Past where the fencing ended, another one-story home sat under an umbrella of trees, along with a shipping container festooned with piping and external lighting. "Take us back there, there's a spot to park." Journalist climbed from the Merc and swung her pack onto her shoulder. There was a concrete bunker entrance set into the hillside to the north, heavy steel doors cracked just far enough to let lamp light and tinny music through. It was an old Soviet march, and the guard sitting a few paces away hummed to it as he drummed his fingertips on the receiver of a belt-fed. She produced a sheaf of papers and a wad of bills, the two stepped aside and conversed for some time.
_____Journalist returned when the first rays of the sun came breaking through the growth, loners shaking out of their sleeping bags and changing filters on masks. The spotlights dotting the perimeter shut down and the shift was changed, cookfires lit in and around the buildings. "He's telling me the place we 'booked' got occupied by your friendly Ukrainian Militia. I'm planning on racking out for a few hours before finding a new place to set camp but in the meanwhile, make some friends.
_____"Sidorovich is in charge of most trade and business around here. He might have a job if you're lucky. If you're lost, Wolf is pretty knowledgeable, not a bad guy. Rebel is the best fighter here, though. This camp doesn't have much of a cook, but there's usually something good by the campfire. Keep checking that little Zone App, people always need shit done. Failing that, text me and I'll get back to you when I have some bars." She turned her eyes to the brightening sky and tugged on her pack. "I'll see you all in a few hours."
@AKuz _____As Journalist moved toward the bunker, she paused momentarily by L'Esprite. "I heard you're looking for Nimble. Gonna save you some effort and tell you to ask Rebel about it. They're from the same faction and might know about your friend. Best of luck with that." With a nod, she descended the staircase behind the double doors into Sid's bunker, a door slamming shut somewhere below.
Issac shut his mouth and remained quiet. It was obvious he was out of his depth here. He tightened his grip on his rifle bag, one hand reaching up to find the zipper, wondering for a moment if things would get to the point where he'd need to pull it out. He let out a quiet sigh of relief as the situation resolved itself. It was hard for him to see the dog, even if he wanted to, squeezed in the middle as he was, but he kept his eyes straight ahead as they drove past its corpse.
As they all started once again down the road, Issac briefly pondered on Journalist's words. He didn't think there was much to worry about when it came to himself, but... Were a bunch of newcomers really all that troublesome? Stalkers were a small bunch, he supposed... Not many people willing to run out to the ends of the world in chase of death and danger. This incoming group he was a part of was more likely a splash rather than a drop in the bucket. He gave a momentary glance towards the two sitting up in the front of the car. Out of everyone, they stuck out the most... He supposed he could understand worrying about the others, but... Himself? Not at all. What was the worst he could do out here?
The rest of the ride is a bit of a blur. He drifted off for a long while there, and he startles awake as they come to a stop. As everyone disembarks, he steps out to stretch out his arms and chest, wiping the sleep from his eyes and he looks around. "So, this is what passes for civilization out here, huh...?" He murmurs quietly to himself as he glances around curiously. If Kiev was a far cry from what Issac was used to from cities back home, then he might as well have been on an entirely different planet standing here.
He takes a deep breath of the unfamiliar air, before giving Journalist his attention once she returns. He frowned slightly. The militia taking their housing wasn't the most stellar news, but Journalist seemed to have things under control. He briefly wondered for a moment on exactly how long the woman planned on staying with them. As far as he remembered, she had been hired to get them in, and well... Here they were. Plenty of other guides would've probably ditched by now. Well, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, he was sure her experience would be greatly helpful down the line, but perhaps that was something to ask her later if they didn't end up parting ways soon.
And, speaking of parting ways... Now that he was here in the Zone proper, he supposed it was time for him to start what he'd come here to do. But, uh... Where to start...? Er... Well... He supposed he could ask people? But... Ask them what? His father had passed through here years ago. Was anyone here even around back then? Hell, did he end up picking up a new name like he had? He wouldn't be able to just ask for a Mr. Harridan. If anyone, Tankista back in Kiev may have been the best person to ask, and of course, that opportunity had long since slipped past his finger. He sighs slowly to himself, bringing his hands up to cover his face. "I'm a fucking idiot..." A long sigh escapes his lips.
_____Their signal came back a few steps past the village border. Almost in tandem, Val and Rachel's phones buzzed in their pockets, the deluge of missed calls and voicemails from their employers coming in.
Val after getting out of the car, checking her gear and slinging her pack on, pulled out her phone to check her texts and mails, when it actively started ringing. Swiping the answer select to 'Answer' she put it to her ear and greeted the caller with, "Val here, what ya need?"
@AKuz _____Not long after the camp begun to wake, the stalker in the blue uniform switched off with a fresh guard and marched back toward the settlement. He was of average height, wiry and lean as a racehorse. A patch on Rebel's shoulder said 'Clear Sky,' his armor and pouches looked new, or at the very least well-maintained. Like most of the other stalkers, he had a respirator and a battered Kalashnikov.
_____As he approached, a few of the veterans moved away or scowled in their direction. Rebel was still wearing his hood as he extended a gloved hand to L'Esprite. His green eyes were alight with a school-boy enthusiasm behind them. "Hey, what's up?" Rebel said cheerily. His accent was thick and decidedly 'local.' "You're looking for Nimble, right? It might be a bit hard to find him, but any friend of Journalist is a friend of mine, haha!"
A few hours of free time after long and suspenseful car ride sounded fantastic to Keiko. She watched her fellow passengers exit the vehicle one by one before turning to speak with Teijo.
"How would you like to proceed Keiko-sama?" Teijo asked, choosing to avoid her alias in private situations.
"We're one step closer now that we're actually in the Zone… but our task will be a monumental one with just the two of us…" Keiko almost sighed knowing full well that she couldn't simply enlist her new found companions in their quest. Everyone had their own agendas and goals afterall.
A moment of silence passed in mutual contemplation before Teijo realized the answer to their plight was staring them in the face: they weren't the only ones in the Zone! Countless people ventured into this strange place to strike it big or make good money. The Ayanami duo had plenty of cash to go around; they wouldn't lose any sleep over trading some of it away for manpower!
But how to start?
With this idea in mind, Keiko exited the Audi with Teijo following shortly after. The revolver she received before arriving—which was seeming more and more like an heirloom to her—was tucked away safely at her waist. The duo took a moment to take in the town.
Though "town" would be putting it rather nicely. It seemed a lot more like a really big camp that had actual buildings instead of tents. The people were just waking up; wandering the area half-dressed or gathering by a fire to cook some early morning breakfast.
Keiko walked around with Teijo shadowing her at a comfortable distance. The food everyone was eating seemed exceedingly simple: breads and cheeses, maybe some meat, and a lot of canned foods mostly. It didn't really look like much—although that may just be the spoiled princess rearing her prideful head.
That's when it hit her. What better way to draw attention and win people over than with some good "home-cooked" food? She ran her idea by Teijo to keep him in the loop, and found a nice spot between her companions and the locals to set up a cooking fire. It couldn't be too special on account of it being cooked over a simple fire, but she could damn well make it smell and taste good.
Starting with the familiar, Keiko decided on a simple meat dish, tenderizing a steak with a simple bag marinade of soy sauce, sugar, and orange concentrate. She knew there wouldn't be much time for it to marinade, but the meat cooked incredibly well to compensate, producing a crispy-on-the-outside medium rare beefy delight. The left over marinade made a fantastic teriyaki glaze with some added sugar boiled down, and along with some roasted greens, a meal that would satisfy even the family chefs back home was made.
Just as Keiko put the finishing touches on the dish, Teijo stepped up and announced an offer to any nearby locals. "Anyone interested in some delicious food and lucrative employment here in the Zone?"
A part of Rachel was relieved they didn't have to kill the bandits, not because of the act itself. Rachel wouldn't have lost any sleep over putting those scumbags into the ground. She knew of their depraved kind, but that was back when she belonged to one of the largest and meanest gangs in the playground, the Ukranian Military. Now her only support was the rag tag band of loners, Stalkers. There was no big security blanket if she pissed off the Bandits was a now.
As she stepped out of the vehicle, she stretched her stiff muscles and gathered her thoughts. This might not have been Rachel's first incursion into the Zone, but it was her first time stepping on to the Stalker scene. In a way, she was as much as a newbie as everyone else.
_____Their signal came back a few steps past the village border. Almost in tandem, Val and Rachel's phones buzzed in their pockets, the deluge of missed calls and voicemails from their employers coming in.
"Excuse me. I need to take this call," Rachel told her companions as she stepped away, just a few meters away, far enough to be comfortable. Then she answered the call. "Rachel here."
"Anyone interested in some delicious food and lucrative employment here in the Zone?"
Nick looked up from where he sat, amid the log benches of the campfire. Over to the side the Teijo was shouting... something. English was it? Incoherent. And from the looks of the other stalkers, no one could cut through the Japanese man's accent.
The detective stood up, drawing closer to his companions. Keiko held a brown bag between her hands. From it he could smell the Teriyaki and it steamed as a freshly cooked meal should, warm and inviting, tempting you to partake and be merry. He would have dismissed Keiko's attempt as naivety, a girl trying to make friends in an unknown place, but their eyes met, the princess and private eye, and a spark of understanding shot through him.
He would have to reconsider his perception of her.
His hand brushed past the bodyguard, palm asking. "Your meal. May I?"
Then he left them with the meat in tow, out of the bag for all of the campfire to see. The nearest rookie was a boy, couldn't be more than 21, with barely a stubble on his face. Nick took a portion of the steak and handed it to him. The detective moved down the campfire, seeing a similar story in each of them.
Soon the meat disappeared, but there were still some more to feed. He returned to Keiko empty-handed, which was a good thing, with more than a few expectant faces following him.
_____With good food came eager faces, and the usual cacophony of early-morning bellyaching had died down, a few grumbles rising instead from the veterans who sat to their own on the outer fringes. Many of the rookies had frayed jackets and worn-out soles, not all had the luxury of driving into the Zone, it seemed. There were other ways, like riding a boat up the Dneiper, but it was a long way around for these rookies. They were bone-weary from the journey and had little but school backpacks and laptop bags. Only a few had guns, maybe a shotgun or a hunting rifle. Those who weren't stuffing their faces with fresh meat and bread were lit by the glow of smartphones, tapping wearily into their logs as the veterans made out for Cordon with light meals
_____None in particular seemed to return gazes or offer much beside an uttered thanks. It took a few moments— and pointed looks from Nick for one of them, in a red parka, to clear his throat and wipe off his hands. "What do we need to do for you?" he said in faintly, hardly any accent to his English. He was probably not very far out of high school. His comrades, still feasting on their hand-outs turned nervous gazes to them, eight of them in all.
