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Chapter Text

DAY 1.

Adrian’s mind was a blurry, static like fuzz. It hurt like hell. And the second he opened his eyes he felt like throwing up - his hand flew up to take off his gas mask just incase - his vision was blurry and unfocused and the ground was cold - and wet - red. Red- blood. His blood. As he saw the cuts on his body he felt the pain shock through him - his gas mask was dropped to the ground and a gagging sound was heard. Adrian proceded to throw up last nights dinner and this mornings breakfast. great. As his vision started to focus - finally adjust to where he was, he saw asphalt? He was outside; Out of the black mesa facility! but this was not the desert, or base. he looked over and saw his own puke - that made him recoil away. Adrian reached down to grab his gas mask and put it on - and once he looked up again - he saw… a building? It seemed old and worn - cement was cracked and dusty - leaving white residue over the already grey asphalt. There was a sign over the building… which Adrian could not read. As it was not english - no.. it was.. Russian maybe? Definitely Cyrillic. Adrian took a deep breath - it being filtered by the gas mask, which was probably a good thing, regarding where he was.

Adrian did not know Russian, Ukrainian or any slavic language. He strictly knew English. He wondered where the hell he was - and how he got here. As Adrian came to his senses more and more - he could hear a quiet, almost vague voice. Many voices actually; chanting or praying. The noise seemed to come from inside the building. ”Well that’s certainly weird…” Adrian had thought. He’d seen weirder - hell recently he had just found out that fucking aliens existed! Religious people did exist before he found that out though. He could not hear in what language the praying was in - he guessed not english. The corporal stood up slowly - he found that he had no weapons on him - and he still felt nauseous and dizzy. It was a miracle he did not immediately fall over into his own throw up. He’d rather fight through Black mesa with a pen then do that. Gross. Adrian thought all was fine - well more like he was getting better; that was until he touched his arm and noticed a large cut. Dirty and bloody - ”that was going to get infected soon.” Shephard thought and rolled his eyes in annoyance. Adrian knew it was a dumb idea - but he was desperate here. Last he knew - some weird warped blue glowing sphere had appeared behind him and swallowed him whole - which is probably how he ended up here. So he took weak and careful steps towards the building. Inside were nothing much - knocked over shelves and books thrown about on the floor, or that was about as much as he could see. It was surprisingly dark in there - or his vision was still not properly adjusted yet. 

« Brother, are you new here? I have not seen you before. »

a cold monotone voice spoke out from beside him - he could not understand a word spoken, Adrian did not speak Ukrainian. Adrian Shephard jumped up in surprise - his hand reaching down to grab the gun he did not have - stupid.. Adrian quickly turned around anyways - the fear should have been evident on his face if it were not for the gas mask. He was met with the sight of a tall - intimidating presence. Wearing white camo/snow camo with brown and green details such as the bulletproof vest and kneepads/elbowpads. The person wore a dark green gas mask and had a patch on either arm - Adrian could not quite make out what was on the patch, and in this current moment: it sure as hell would not help his fear. Adrian swallowed and held up his hands to display that he had no weapons, the man before him did not falter. Or blink - it seemed. He just stared the poor soldier down. 

- «Брат, Are you hurt? »

The cold man stepped closer and roughly grabbed Adrian’s fore arm. Just under where his cut was. Blood had stained the black white and grey patterns, turning them brown and red. Adrian winced and almost forced his arm back, but decided against it. The taller held a very tight grip on Adrians arm - dragging him further into the building. Adrian let out a surprised noise as he felt the man walking off with him. As he was dragged in - he saw more and more people. All wearing similar stuff, talking in the same language and tone. Adrian was sort of very scared now. He was internally begging that he did not hurt him. The further in he got - the louder the chanting got. Praying, and repatative. The word ‘Monolit’ was repeated on and on again. A warm light glew in the dark room he soon found himself in - the praying was at its loudest. Monolith sat around a makeshift tower - on their lap they prayed. Rolling their heads as they spoke in unison. A fireplace crackled and flickered in one of the corners - bottles of vodka and other stuff were placed around it - not in a pattern. Just there. The man stopped infront of the fire and said something In Ukrainian - which Adrian still did not understand. Shephard was shortly pulled down onto the ground. Him landing on his ass - Adrian was almost shaking in terror. Though the mans movements became more gentle as he saw that. The man grabbed a bottle of vodka and fished some bandages out from his pockets. 

the monolith soldier poured some of the Cossacks vodka on Adrians wound - Adrian responded by yelping in pain - which seemed to confuse the monolith as it tilted its head. Though the monolith continued his work. Bandaging up Adrian as he tried not to cry. The background praying was becoming strangely relaxing, if not terrifying. He had absolutely no idea what was happening, and he remembered that he had no weapons, nor his aliens. He was so scared. But the men were not killing him, barely anyone was paying attention to him, actually. Adrians breathing was heavy as the man gently bandaged his wounded arm. Once he was done - he tied a tight bow and sat next to Adrian. Grabbing what was left of the vodka. Adrian shephard moved closer into the wall - backing himself into a corner of the room - he watched everyone - barely blinking as he did. Nobody was hostile. Nobody was attacking him. The monolith who had helped him had taken of his mask and was drinking the vodka. Adrian watched him - his face was blank - void of all emotion as he drank. The man had some scars on his face.  

A few hours later, Adrian was staring out of a window in the dark bookstore. The sun was now setting, these people seemed to think he was one of them - they behaved both friends and aloof. Like they did to eachother. It was weird.. did they think he was one of them? Adrian shook his head, There was so much happening, he was confused and dazed still. A monolith soldier walked up next to him and watched with Adrian the sunset. It was beautiful in this place, barely a cloud in sight as the sun spilled over the sky, melting even. Adrian could barely take his eyes off it even when they started to burn. But ultimately he looked over to the other soldier. He said something that Adrian could not understand. Adrian was getting sleepy now, the soldiers seemed as awake as before. Barely a change in their behaviour. Weird, he thought. Adrian turned around to face the dark building, he had slipped over a book like 3 times now, why had nobody lit a single candle in this place? Adrian walked back inside the room with the campfire and praying - he sat back in the corner he previously was - Adrian felt so fucking tired. His eyelids felt heavy and his mind slow. These people did not seem threatened or threatening to him. Adrian did not know if it was safe to fall asleep - it was probably safest to stay awake. Yet when he closed his eyes - he would not open them for hours.

Chapter Text

Day 2; Pripyat patrol

Adrian woke up on the floor, the warmth of the campfire was long gone and the ritual praying remained, slowly growing louder as he woke up. Light shone in through the open doors - creating a warm glow on the chaotic tower. Adrian stood up slowly and looked around. Everything seemed the same, did these people even sleep? Adrian touched his face, just to be met with the hard plastic of his gas mask*. It seemed real and alright. Adrian stood up slowly, the skin around his cut was really itchy now from the dried bloow, and his uniform was probably stained forever with an ugly brown. Adrian was uncomftrable and he just had to live with it, it did not seem like the monolithians had extra clothes with them, even if they wore similar stuff. There were still some praying around the tower, around 5 men. One of them not wearing a gas mask, surprisingly. Adrian walked out of the backroom and walked upstairs instead, wanting to watch the sun rise from a higher vantage point. he found a sort of ladder to the roof in what seemed to be a post-grenaded room. A giant wall of ruble intersected with another, creating a surprisingly nice view of the Pripyat sunset. Though as he looked around - he noticed a wheel - like a carnival wheel in the background. It honestly looked like the one in Pripyat, Adrian thought.

Adrian leaned against one of the not completely rubble walls, the surface was cold and old - that much he could tell. Much like the entire bookstore. It was weirdly comforting in its ruin. Soon enough - Adrian decided to explore the bookstore - he should have been scared. That would be a normal response. But he appeared fine as the soldiers seemed to not have hurt him. As he looked to his cut arm - he saw that the bandage had been changed while he was sleeping. Shephard was surprised on how he did not wake up from that. Even though the bandage had been changed, the blood still dries and itches. Adrian can’t even recall how he got that cut, did he fall when getting here? How did he get here? Where is he? Adrian knows he won’t get any good answers any soon. He can’t speak these peoples language, let alone speak. Nor can he read what is written in the books. Like a complete rejection of english, he is not mad. It would be weird to expect a probably foreign country to have english text. A few minutes of watching the city below was a nice time to think. Just think. Adrian decided to explore a little more of the building, he thought it was a library due to the amount of books on the ground. And besides, Adrian needed to find a toilet. Though it seemed like there would not be a functioning one here. If the lights did not work - then why would the plumbing?

Adrian left the room, sunlight shone through the broken windows and walls of the building, the light was warm and dramatic. It looked really nice, thought the marine. Adrian passed by some rooms. Most of them were open, had a broken lock or just were not there. One of the rooms has a few mattresses on the ground and a oil lamp on a wooden crate. It seemed to be where some of them slept, if these soldiers even slept at all. Come to think of it… They probably did not. Shephard entered the room, it was warm and smelled faintly of smoke. He walked over to the oil lamp and turned it on, weakly illuminating what was rest of the room. There were some writing on the wall that Adrian could not read ‘Слава Монолита! За монолита!’ He traced his fingers across the painted text, it was in brown and smelled slightly weird, but so did everything and everyone here. Like sweat, dried blood and unwashed odour. He wondered if there were functional showers in this city, despite it looking very.. abandoned- there had to be one working shower. Adrian saw a weird grey rectangle on one of their beds, one of them that he saw a soldier messing with earlier. Like a mini computer screen or something, and honestly - he just wanted to know what it was. ‘П-Д-А’ was written on it, ‘Naa…?’ He thought. Not recognising any of the letters but A. Adrain picked the device up and inspected it closely. He could not find a single on switch on it - maybe there was one but he could simply not get it. 

As Adrian was fiddling around with the device - he heard footsteps from downstairs slowly approaching. Adrian got a little started, he knew he probably should not be messing around with others stuff. So he put the device down on the bed as it was and sat down. Pretending just to rest. It seemed to work as a monolithian walked towards the doorway, staring right at him, or atleast it seemed that way. Shephard could not see the mans eyes from behind the lenses of his gas mask. The man was almost unmoving in his stance. As if he was being partially controlled. It was honestly quite freaky. The man waved his hand from Adrian to the door. Signalling him to follow. The Marine did so, standing up and turning off the light before walking off towards the Monolithian. Adrian felt intimidated being near them, Despite Adrian himself being quite strong - these men could obviously crush him if they wanted. He and the man walked downstairs and then to the weird tower. There were more of them waiting in there. As Adrian and the other man entered the room, everyone walked towards the tower and sat around it. Including the monolith who walked with him. Adrian decided that it would be smartest to join in. He does not want any suspicion put on him. The others sat on their knees with their hands on their lap. Adrian tried his best to copy their movements as they started praying. Adrian was not sure of what he was doing, but it felt nice.. relaxing even. The rythmic chanting was nice even if he could not understand it at all. ‘Monolit.’ ‘Monolita’. Those words kept being chanted. ‘Oh monolit’.. Adrian closed his eyes, just listening to the noise and rolling his neck. On and on again, Adrian could not tell if he was becoming slightly nauseous by the movements or if he was just in a strange daze. The feeling of not belonging slowly seemed to melt away as he prayed.  The itching in his arm seemed to to away and so did his thoughts. Filled only with static and the low, beautiful voices of the men around him. It was as peaceful as it was confusing. Time seemed to slip away, and slowly it stopped. Yet it did not feel harsh or as if it was being ripped away as everyone stood up. Without thinking he followed. The daze slowly disappearing from his mind. Yet the feeling of peace lingers.

Shephard rose to his feet calmly after the others. As he looked around, he saw them pulling out their weapons again. It momentarily scared him, ‘did they find out?’ His mind raced before he saw them start to walk out the door, and not shoot him. Though one did walk towards him; holding an extra shooter for him. It seemed to be a Ak-47s? Adrian was not sure but he accepted it, along with some boxes of ammunition. He wondered why he was being given this, but it was probably for the best. Unless he was being framed.. Adrian walked after the group as they started leaving the bookstore. There were still many MONOLITH left in the store - though it seemed like he was meant to go with the others. Not like he mined, it was nice to go outside. Also gave him a chance to get more information about where he is. More sunlight hit his gas mask as he walked through the doors, right after the others. Adrian slowly looked around once he fully caught up with them. Lots of what seemed to be abandoned buildings, apartment complexes mostly.* This place seemed to be more of a place to live than to work in. * There were 4 more soldiers with him. Even though Adrian did blend in from a distance, that feeling of not fitting in was creeping back into his head. He tried to distract himself by looking around the city. The buildings were tall and grey, they seemed a bit ever repeating as there was barely any difference between them all. The streets were nice though, despite how dead everything was - it felt strangely more alive than any American city he had ever been in. There was greenery and trees by the sidewalks and vines grew on the side of the buildings, even if they seemed a bit wilted. Adrian had gotten used to the smell of rotting bodies by now, he had not realised that is what the scent was. There was a faint breeze as they walked through the city streets as well, Adrian felt a bit cold as it did not seem to be summer, rather Autumn. The other men seemed completely unbothered as always. They barely spoke to eachother while walking, leaving the quiet up to Pripyat. Gunshots weakly broke through the noise, the sounds being from quite a distance away. Yet as soon as the sound was heard the Monolithians started running towards the sound. And so did a startled Adrian. 

Fast paced steps were though barely heard, but the gunshots grew louder and louder, and so did the sound of an explosion. Before Adrian properly got a chance to react - he heard gunshots from right behind him. The others had started shooting towards something.. Adrian focused to see what it was - just to be met with the sight of a pack of dogs? And giant rats. They were fast and aggressive. Before his eyes - the amount of dogs multiplied with the howl of one of the bigger dogs. They seemed almost mutated - almost dog but vile to the eyes. Their eyes were almost glowing white. Just pure white and malice as the dogs attacked ferociously. Adrian quickly checked his magazine and Ak before he started running forwards to shoot. He knew he’d be no use if he just stood there, he was a Corpral, not a rookie. Not quite as bad. Adrian aimed and shot in quick succession. Aiming for the head - he did not want to shoot a bunch of dogs. But if he had too - he’d make it quick. Adrian seemed to lose focus for a few seconds and he felt claws dig into his skin after a growl. Looking down he was met with one of those giant rats, he wondered if he was in New york again. The rodents stood on 2 legs and had freakishly long arms and claws that were currently ripping up his uniform. More blood started to drip down to stain his uniform where he stood. He quickly aimed downwards to shoot it though another Monolith got a nice shot on its head before he got too. He looked over and nodded to say thank you. The other man just continued shooting without a second thought, Adrian followed suit and continued shooting. Some of the dogs turned into blue mist when shot, Adrian stared in horror and bewilderment. Once of the big dogs were shot, all the other ones wailed before abruptly exploding into that mist. Was he loosing his mind? The others seemed completely unaffected by anything. He swore a nuke could go off and they would just shrug. 

Soon enough, there was dead dogs laid out on the road. Some with their heads blown. Maybe it was the fact that he had thrown up his food earlier, or that he simply had not eaten in a while. But he felt very hungry all of a sudden. He should have been deterred by the sight of dead animals that looked rotten when alive, now worse. But he was not. Even if he felt the lingering need to throw up in the back of his throat. There was another group there that had been fighting the dogs before. They appeared to be the same as his group, wearing the same type of uniform, same order of weapons and even acting similar. It felt wrong. But he could not tell how. Before Adrian could think - his group started to walk again. He still had no idea where they were going too and they seemed not to need breaks. Adrian continued following and looking around without much hesitation and thought. Time seemed to still not be properly functioning in his mind. He looked up to the almost clear sky, The sun was past midday. He wondered if it had been that late when he left. The sight of the wheel caught his attention when they turned a corner. It stood out against the repetitiveness of the streets and apartments. They were surprisingly close to it. The sight was haunting and beautiful. Its stillness matched the city yet it felt more alive in its nil of so. Maybe it was because Adrian loved ferris wheels when he was younger.* The group had once again stopped, but this time by the river- Adrian had not even noticed the Pripyat river until now. They all entered a building by the river, up the stairs he was met with another radio tower. This one was smaller, but there was a sort of blue glow from its core. It was tempting to just grab it. But he suspected that would not be so popular with the others. He sat down like the others. His hunger was distracting him from focusing and it was quite clear to tell. He kept looking around, as if searching for food that was not there. After like the 5th time of doing so, He was handed.. a can? A can of food. What food? He had no idea. It looked weird and had the writing ‘Tourists breakfast’* on it. When he opened it he was met with.. well exactly what you expect from canned mystery meat. The smell was wretched and he was not sure if it was poison or not. He did not even have a bloody spoon to eat it with. He fished around in his many pockets, luckily enough he found a spoon! It was dirty and slightly rusty.. yet he took off his mask and forced the food in. No matter how vile it was. 

* 

Adrian slowly put on his gas mask again. He felt slightly queasy after eating that… “meat”. He hoped that the idea of throwing up in his gas mask would stop himself from doing it. He looked at the can.. ‘boar’ flavour..? Vile, he thought. Adrian yawned, it was so dark now. Only the blue of the tower lit anything up. He could barely see himself let alone the others. The dim light made the others look sort of terrifying. Yet friendly. He prayed along with them as he had done earlier. His head a fuzz, but this time it was a mix of the prayer and his sleepiness. He kept forcing his eyes open, despite them constantly closing. He wanted to lay down and sleep. But he should probably wait till they went back to the bookstore. He should have if he could have done so. He laid down and stared into the light, he does not remember closing his eyes. Yet he did not open them. Finally peace from thought.

Chapter Text

Day 3.

It was raining outside, the gentle noises did nothing to wake the sleeping outsider up. He remained calm, despite his mind creating thoughts beyond comprehension. Despite no thoughts coming through, they stayed in the back of his mind - Lingering.. Opening his eyes - he found himself back in the bookstore though he could not fully understand anything for a few seconds. Once Adrian came to his senses he felt fuzzy once more. Today was his third day in the zone and he still had no idea where he was. Shephard could not remember if he walked back or if he passed out by the river. He at first did not see anyone near him - the radio tower yet still glowed, soon enough it seemed like his eyes remembered that there were people near him. The sight, sounds and smells of the monolith soldiers suddenly bombarded his mind faster than he could process. The man groaned while clutching his gas mask desperately - his helmet was on the ground next to him and his bandages had been removed because the wound healed enough to not bleed. Adrian stared down and then to the soldiers - just as the days before they were praying and standing around like they had nothing to do with their lives. Empty vodka bottles neatly cleaned up in piles with the meat cans too. Adrian placed a hand on the wall next to him and the ground to try to support himself as he stood up. It had been 3 days, he kept reminding himself that. He still had no idea where he was or how he got there - he belives he cannot leave till he knows what is going on - He forces himself to accept this place. Adrian is not sure why he is thinking like this.

Adrian fishes around in his pockets for his headache meds and something to drink - not even thinking of what he was doing when he took off his mask. It was nothing big really; Adrian would not die from the minor radiation in the bookstore immediately. The air just felt different- he took a deep breath through which he felt the somewhat familiar air, despite the fact that he had never been here before breathing the citys strange nostalgic essence was almost magical. Through the haze of wonder was still that sharp harshness that tasted of death. Adrian knew this would take a while to get used to. Adrian had time, probably. As Adrian rested his head and mind against the wall behind him as he had done when he first woke up in here again - he felt the ground shaking softly. It was subtle but noticeable - the monolithians around him did not react att all so he wondered if he was simply going mad, or more mad. The marine stood up carefully and walked to a window - a few steps before reaching the hole in the wall he heard the thunder hit Pripyat. The man only for a few seconds thought it was a storm but the ground was as dry as can be and nothing hinted towards the rain or a storm alonex Frozen in confusion and mystic dread was the only way to describe how Adrian looked in that moment as the sky slowly turned red. Thunder pooling in the clouds and lightning shooting eachother like broken glass or spiderwebs by a thousand spiders. The sky was glowing rust. Shephard could barely breathe - even the air felt different like it wanted to rip his brain in two for being here. He touched his helmet just to make sure it was on as if it would protect his head from anything the zone can do. 

The streets were pained in the warm colour yet nothing felt warm or comforting. apart from the thunder was everything eerily quiet. The sound was like the fear of death itself and Adrian was not the only one who was feeling it in the beauty that wants all dead. Though it was only Adrian he could see with that fear. The marine slowly wandered back to his corner to pick up his mask and put it on: the straps felt tighter than before and as much as he wanted to staple it to his face he felt a urge to ripp it off with his helmet and run out into the Pripyat streets. The light was flashing through his lenses as the sky flashed between bright lights and total darkness. A darkness Adrian could not understand - it eclipsed candles, gas lights, oil lamps and all light including the sun. Shephard was shaking like the ground as his mind swayed into temporary madness. A lonely feeling among the calm soldiers around his living corpse. The sky was glowing through the clouds though it was not glowing from the sun. The earth was creating its own light. It was raining birds almost, as the rough and rotting birds all went limp and dropped to the ground almost simultaneously. The air felt toxic even through his gas mask. 

The monolithians had gathered around the radio tower of scrap and started praying again. But the words were different- a thanking of the zone and the emission - Adrian could not understand. The pull of the prayer prevailed through his horror, making him move without realising to sit down with the others. The tower was glowing stronger than ever - the blue light were like a fire burning through all of and igniting the world. Shephards prayers were calm unlike his racing mind. Adrian repeated what the others were saying though with no sound and without knowing truly what he was saying , yet he could feel he knew. Knew of a glory he had not seen, knew of a light stronger than man, knew of something more powerful than what he had seen before even in black mesa. A god more powerful than the mind. That it was creating the lights and sound. The feeling of his own mind melting - it felt wonderful. Terrible and great. “Monolit.” Was uttered through his mouth - so quiet it was not hear by any living creature.* Adrian smiled madly before his expression slowly shifted into a blank stare still full of unknowing faith. Images were forming in his mind that he had not seen before - 5 towers. One knocked over. Forests of red. Death. Light- The marine was loosing himself. The ground was shaking wildly and so was the sky. Unstable. Outside of the light only the monolithians and he could se, the sky was flickering. Flashing pure darkness and blinding lights tinted red on the edges. He could feel peoples minds ending as the storm was reaching its mighty peak. Adrian felt power and life being drawn out like smoke - ones mind being one with the zone. Its power almost alien - he saw what was not there - a room. 

a room, his mind was separated from his body - though he found himself in a body. Not his own. The room was cold and the sound of running water was constant. He was not alone - the presence of others was here. The ground was soft as he walked past through the tiny sand dunes covering the ground. It was all so holy. So great so pure. To the side of the middle was a simple old well. Adrians eyes were drawn to it as he peered into the darkness and water. The water was silver like liquid moon. A flash of light almost blinded him - making him turn around rappidly - when he was met with the sight of the monolith. The giant crystal formation, the crystal god stood almost imposing in the middle of the cool sand. The crystal was blue as the light, the center had a impossibly white light as its core. The base of both were dark and black - every colour spread and dripped across the cracks and veins of the god. He could hear it’s voice. Tempting him. 

«Иди до мене. Иди ко мне.»

words transcending language for the simple man. Its wonderful light more tempting than the fruit. the man reached a hand forwards - not to touch it as he feared he would taint the holy if he did - even if it was not his hand. He felt the allure of god before him even after it vanished before his eyes. The dunes untouched where it once stood. The man turned around and stared back into the silver well and he dug around in his pocket to pull out a nut and throw it into the water. It splashed and the silver shimmered, broke and reformed. Then the man jumped in himself. 

Adrian woke up right where he had left. His neck hurt from praying - the storm was almost gone now, the ground weakly shaking and the sky only dimly streaked in red. The sun was setting. It glowed brightly, but not as bright as the monolith. He struggled to comprehend what just happened, He felt as if his mind was being turned and twisted to see something, to do something, to become. The other monolithians were dispersed in the bookstore when he finally stopped thinking about himself. Adrian did not want to pass out again so he sat before the window and laid down. He watched the beams of light slowly shift until it all went dark.

Chapter Text

Rain, it was raining wildly outside. The sky was dark and cloudy even att 12:14. Right about when nearby gunshots woke Adrian from his slumbers. It was a rude and unwelcome wake from his rapid and vivvid dreams of light, worship and death. The marine stood up quickly and took out his pistol, he needed new ammo, he needed to get home, he needed to figure out where he is. So much to need. Shephard knew that wanting led to nothing - but that thought made him pause. It was not his own thought in his own mind. It was a strange feeling that the man could not afford to think to much about. He heard gunshots, people could be dying and it was his literal job to kill. So Adrian led his own way out of the rotting square cement box he had been living in for the past 4 days. He was no longer running on sense - just running on his feet. Towards the sound as he always did. Outside he was met with the soldiers clad in black white green and brown, and soldiers clad in green. Soldiers, actual soldiers. The sight made the marine pause for a solid minute. They were not american, he could see a patch of yellow and blue - Ukraine. The Ukraine? … Adrian wondered if he was in The Ukraines suddenly. Adrian did not know what to do, it felt wrong to shoot another soldier - one that if he was right - he was not in war against. Adrian was more surprised that he saw Ukrainian soldiers and not soviet soldiers. Adrian had not quite adjusted fully to the fall of the union - he knew Ukraine was a country but it still felt weird.* Adrian checked his pistol, it was loaded with a full magazine, one extra in the chamber. The marine carefully walked forwards to the blody sight of war. The monolithians were being shot in the legs, arms, chest and all, yet they would not even flinch unless it was lethal. Then they would just die. Pain was not real for them, not anymore. The soldiers were trying so hard. Shooting att a force greater than them. 

A grenade was thrown to the ground, bouncing before landing att two soldiers feet. «GRANATA!» had been shouted but the words did not seem to process in anyone but the soldier closet. His eyes widened before closing as the explosion hit him. Now Adrian did not know how it felt to be blown up by a grenade - does it burn or sting? Or can you even feel the pain. The sight after was gruesome enough, blod splayed out like a broken waterballon. Another monolith quickly shot the two men in the head - insuring their death be final in the eyes of the zone. «Слава моноліт!» called out as the others were shot. Adrian had seen gore before - he saw scientists be ripped apart by aliens - he saw their limbs be discarded like bones of a chicken. Does not make it easier. The mens limbs were blown off and ruined forever. Not like he could use them without a beating heart. Blod dripped out of their mouthes like drool. Shephard felt his skin shift as a shiver ran through his cadaver. Bodies were quick to line the streets as the monolith were quick to not care, once there was not a beating heart in sight they returned to the bookstore. Adrian took a few minutes extra to return. He stod unmoving and unblinking till his eyes burned. The events that just transpired went through his head like Arabic, it was all nonsense in his head and it was starting to hurt so bad. He was hungry again, had he even eaten in the last day or 2? That was not his mind to say.  Was it even his mind speaking? Was it his voice he was hearing? His muscles did not move - his breath was steady and constant yet he heard a voice from his mouth. Adrians hands shook as he struggled to move his fingers to cover the gas mask - and to cover his shame that he did not know off. 

Adrian did feel his fingers dig into his skin through his mask, no marks were left where his nails almost pierced layer(s) of skin. The marine did not flinch nor wince. His mind was derailing once more, now att the dawn of the 4th day. Shephard closed his eyes to not behold the sight of exposed bone melted to the skin and clothes of the soldiers. His mind kept taking him to places he had not seen before, a powerplant- with towers striped in red, an explosion, another building - the planet jupiter, a sign in some cryllic language, 1986. 26,4,1986,…

a shade cast over him, everything suddenly felt cold. It would only be weird because he could have sworn it was December, November, real, April. And midday. It was warm inside of the bookstore but not inside of Adrian. It was all so cold. He pulled down the sleeves of his black and white camo to cover himself. But honestly he felt like nothing but bone and nerves. Adrian whined as pain began to pulse through his head, which was turning into static, beeps and images. The static was spreading throughout his body and soul, loosing control of his limbs and touch. His head hit the ground shortly after his body - now he was stuck staring into the distance without being able to focus forwards or breathe. Shephard can not hear no more, it is all static. A distant echoing scream or speech - still static. His vision blurry and glitching. The smell of wet old books drowned like people. He was not sure but he could swear he was in some sort of liquid - maybe it was his body melting. Hopefully so.. or not. He was not sure, why would the man be? Rejecting the thoughts that were not his - the only reasonable way out was to drown in your own skin. That voice was still speaking to him, the static in his mind warping to the soundwaves. Each pixel a different thought in thousand, so many words. A plea for orders. Tempting him to follow. If only he could move before he started choking on his own throat. He was laughing - he could swear he was. But that voice was drowning out all thoughts. «Тебе не суждено быть здесь, Шепард. Но я могу это исправить.» 

Black and white, there was so much black and white it turned gray, the pixels warping to his mind - so small they might be gray. Adrians hands found the ground again. His body and mind still separated - together by threads and veins. He could feel everything, he could feel his bones shifting with his muscles, he could feel his organs moving and pulsing. He could feel the pain from his ever empty stomach. He could feel the blod moving through his body, being pumped by his heart. He was aware of every part of his body. Fully aware of his futile existence. Fully aware of why he should go to the sarcophagus- wherever it may be. Fully aware that it is his mission to protect the monolith now. Black mesa is in the past. Everything is. This is now. Even if this was in the past or future, is it not now?

Adrian stepped inside the room of worship. Of course - there were those who were praying. Adrian shortly becoming one of them. But he could not focus. He felt blinded by everything and everyone. Adrian took a very shaky breath in and out - he could not quite move his head without feeling like it would snap right off. The others paid no mind. Their trance almost as strong as Adrians. The difference was that they knew the truth, Adrian did not. The words echoed through his mind again and again. Beckoning him to follow its vice. He did not want this day to end like all others. He had to find out what the fuck was going on. His prayers were quiet - his lips moving with the others. His eyes unfocused and almost white. Though the monolithians would have said green due to his visors. He could feel their thoughts. All minds melting into one. They could see his - the confusion. It scared Adrian. He feared to be caught and he did not know why. Would they kill him if he knew? Adrian tried to drown out his thoughts but he could barely keep track of what was his. Monolith. Monolit - words chanted in mind and in voice. Beautiful in an attempt simply to make a idol that could capture even one shard of the gods sight and light. It would be truly impossible if not to see it and behold it with ones mind and eyes. A sense of content and passion - their minds had no want, no need, no stress about choices, no thoughts of fear or anger. Just undying worship to the monolith.

Adrian wished he could feel such a level of peace, of course he could feel it creeping in. Like everything here. That earthly need to throw up your own organs and eat a rotting corpse - and the feeling that your body is the rotting corpse itself. He was still hungry and neither had he seen the others eating - did they eat? Were they human? - they looked human. The aliens he had seen had eaten too, were these beyond alien or just gods? Adrians body rejected his need to stand up and eat - its puppeteer was not Shephard, it was god. Adrian att its mercy like every stalker in the holy zona. Though the original host was stronger … for now. Adrian searched in the pile of stale bread that never seemed to mold, the sausages with ingredients one would probably only find in the zone - and the cans of mysery meat and Adrian wanted to eat it all. No matter how rotten, vile or disgusting it was. He’d drink that vodka as if it was wine. Why would those who do not eat even have food? They did eat - Adrian finally figured that out when he gazed att the pile of empty cans and bottles that he had not eaten. The man was not sure how slow he was becoming. Did it matter? Adrian wanted to eat, and there were cans of unopened meat. That was all he needed. He grabbed his knife from one of his many pockets and ripped it open - devouring one, two or three cans. It tasted horrid like bile or dehydrated compost juice. Adrian was too hungry to care. He did not care if he ate like a maniac. Att this point he was one. A desperate, insane maniac that would eat a person if he- his thoughts stopped for a second to ponder att what he just thought. He did not like that thought, but it kept growing and grabbing like a parasite. Oh, horrid. Absolutely vile. Adrian thinks so, he wants to wash his brain in soap and new blod to cleanse it. And still he does not know why. The man was a strange, starving man. That he knew. He was eating like he was going into hibernation for 20 years. To be frozen in time and wait for a purpose. But he had one now. That could wait… and so could his sleep. He had slept enough in his humble opinion. He could stay awake for the night, right?

the moon shines bright, not as bright as other things he has sen. It was still inviting. The moon was almost full that night, and Adrian refused to sleep. Guided by light - he stayed awake. Praying till the sun shines with itself. Not a reflection of the moon - simply itself. The tower still had that beautiful glow, though hard to see through the sunlight.

Chapter Text

Questions had to be asked, one way or another. Adrian had not slept and could only think - think of what was going on. The others seemed undisturbed and fine - Adrian was surely not. The man had long since left the praying circle and was writing stuff on the walls in english, hoping to the monolith that atleast one person would understand and or speak english. “Where am i?” Was written loud and clear. And yet nobody looked. One monolith did speak - one that was next to him. One wearing a slightly different suit than the most; less pockets and straps. It looked more like he had an external skeleton on top of the suit. Shephard stared a little perplexed att the sight. It did look really cool and powerful - the monolith soldier was holding a type of rifle Adrian had not seen before, amazing the imposter. It was built up in parts of clumps? Hard to explain. And it seemed to be loaded with batteries. Further confusing him. Nevertheless - The soldier stared att the writing covering the wall. His eyes not visible through the lenses of his gas mask but clearly reading it. To Adrians luck - or the Monoliths choice.. the monolith spoke up, in english.

”you not speak Ukrainian, Брат?”

Adrian was a bit offended att being called a ‘brat’, but he was overjoyed that somebody spoke and understood english. Adrian nodded and quickly pointed to the writing and question. Written wildly and without precision. Just there to get the message across. A cry for answers.

” Why did oh monolith pick one who not speak language of god?… You is in Pripyat. “

Adrian paused as if somebody just told him he did not know who he himself was. His mind strained to process that, one moment he was in black mesa and fighting off aliens, and in the next he was in fucking Ukraine. The marine should have expected himself to be in the most  random place on earth after Black mesa. Aliens and all - now he was loosing his mind in some old and sad abandoned city. Surrounded by weird cultists and- ..Well this was not really a cult, was it? Surrounded by a bunch of mad fanatics. Whomst he was becoming one of. His mind being woven into yarn and quilted into a tapestry of god. The wishgranter. Adrian does not remember hearing the name ‘wishgranter’, but it echoed through his head. If he had to wish, what would he wish? To go home? Adrian felt like he would completely loose his shit if he stayed here longer. 

Adrian wrote a simple question, nothing to hard to answer, nothing shocking.

”April, 2012,”

and that is where Adrian broke. 

One moment he had been where he started, 1998, and then he was 14 years in the future, in a country he had never been in before, with people he could not understand. Adrians body shook slightly as something came crashing down on his mind. He had no idea what but he felt like this was wrong. It had been to long in a moment. He was in the future now, after Y2k, after everything that can happen in the future, and everything looks the exact same. That is what scared him. The marine stared att the Monolith almost as blankly as it stared att him. He went forwards in time in just a few seconds and now he felt like he could not go back. How would he even go home? He wondered if he could, and if he should. His mind was contradicting itself into some sort of mobius strip of confusion. Then that darn static came. It started clawing att his thoughts. Keeping him still and on the ground, even if it was his feet or his face. Weeping, it just served to make his gas mask even hotter. His sweat was leaking from the mask without he even knowing he was sweating that badly. Dripping.. drowning.. he felt like he was drowning in his mask, again. Repeating feelings, stuck on a loop. Adrian coughed and sobbed whilst he rose to his feet though still bent over. The marine started clawing att his chest and throat. Ripping through his armour and skin, ripping through the blood and muscle. He tore his throat and chest out, whatever should be there was now on the floor. He was blind to his thoughts. Adrian tried to cough, but instead a weird choked sound was heard. Gagging on ones own mouth and blood while having no throat to gag on. Shephard ripped his mask off, along with his face and skin. Desperate to rid the disease of life. So he kept clawing and breaking ribs. He kept clawing and removing more and more from his body, mostly just a flesh suit ripped apart like a peeled mandarin. 

hands grasped att his body, att the skin not there in his mind, att his soul, touching it and pulling it back and into his mind. Were these visions or dreams? Adrian opened his eyes, his organs back in place and his skin untouched. Adrian was on his knees, behind him a monolith holding his shoulders tightly, muttering something In Ukrainian to him, whilst Adrian could not understand he did feel comforted by it, even if only slightly. The marines breathing was automatic, steady and unbothered. Much unlike the rest of his very sweaty body. Shephard looked up into the wall he had been writing on before, and he wrote another question. “Why am i here?” A very simple question. Of course, but Adrian knew the answer would not be simple. he steadied himself for the words to come out of the man behind him. like everyone here his voice was completely monotone, and his words were blunt and brash. Adrian knew what to expect, or he thought he knew. Though, as the man continued speaking, his tone changed. As if he were possessed to speak.

« Why are you here? Do you not know?»

«One does not come to the zone randomly.»

«Do you not remember? Have you not understood yet?»

«Nobody remembers, not even you.»

Oh, Oh Adrian was scared. Was there something he could not remember? A cruel joke? An answer to all his questions? Something simple he missed? Adrian refused to turn around and face the man, the one who had pulled him back into reality just to shatter it more, Adrian does not blame him though. Adrian was trained in disasters, not for whatever the hell this was. Not for what disaster already happened. That was not his problem, not now. Not ever. Adrian dug through his mind trying to remember everything he could. But he couldn’t. The zone had taken root, there was no going back now, was there? Adrian shuddered and continued writing, yet the words felt meaningless now. Everything did but the light. He wrote more clearly this time, the letters all lowercase and simple. Finishing off with a questionmark.

”i am adrian shephard, what is your name?” 

Shep sighed as he looked back on what he wrote. He could have wrote it better, but he didn’t. And now it is on the wall and he cant erase it. He wondered if he should have written his name, but he did. Too late now. The monolithian behind him took a moment to read the text before replying flatly «Bayun. Named after favourite kitty.» The man then pointed to a crude drawing of a cat with weird cheeks and way to many eyes, under it there was a empty can of food and a bowl of water. «He sometime come.» the man finished. Adrian stared a bit to long att the empty can and water. Their existence felt human. It made Adrian remember his aliens, a thought that brought worry and longing. He wondered if they had starved, if they had been killed. It seemed implausible for them to be alive. But att the same time, it was implausible for him to be alive here too. Adrian just had to be thankful for being alive in this hell.  "where is the toilet?” Was what he wrote after, almost ridiculous in tone compared to everything else. But Adrian got his directions and left the other Monolithians alone. They continued acting with eachother, praying and eating. Though a conversation was opened about the new guy. Some thought it was strange that he did not speak Ukrainian. Some thought he was a bit weird. Acting as if he had not been to the zone ever before. Some dismissed it as his amnesia being worse than others, «the monolith accepted him which means he is meant to be here». Some wondered if the Monolith was trying a new type of recruitment, more of an abduction than a trap. Instead of wandering into a powerful psyzone and turning into a monolith or zombie, it takes and brainwashed manually. «Is it not slower that way, Брат?» One would ask, not doubting the monolith, not questioning its might. That would be blasphemy that Monolithians are impossible to do. One asked if they should trust ‘The shephard’, if this was a test. Though they knew that the monolith did not do tests. It would be a time of worry if they could worry. But it wasn’t. The monolithians knew they had to help the new recruit since he seemed so ‘Confused’ ‘like a confused chicken’. That is more important than their suspicions. Brothers over all. 

once Adrian returned, everything was quiet once more. They did not find it necessary to continue talking about him, especially now that he was here. They figured that they would find the answers to his questions eventually. And if he dies before that… Well then they dont have to think about him. They all watched as Adrian sat down and started eating the stale yet forever unmoldy bread of the zone. It tasted fresh of Duty blood. Bayun stared att the text on the walls closer, He could tell Adrian was not from here, maybe not even from this world.

—— part 2, exactly 1986 words. —-

But was that important? He was one of them now. A very special one. Maybe like Charon, one to be a leader. Maybe a preacher with a soul to outsiders. The wishgranter has yet to tell them. And they cannot wait to know the truth, to know his purpose. He was different. His uniform seemed to be from the outside yet it matched everyone else. Black and white urban camo. A gas mask and a gun. More or less is the monolith uniform.
Glorious. The monolithians watched him without turning their heads to him. Adrian could tell he was being watched of course, but he tried to pay it no mind. He prayed with the others once more, gathering around the pillar, the icon of the monolith. And a radio disturbance.
A beauty of creation. Born our of pure, undying loyalty and fanaticism.
Such is it, such is everyone and everything touched by the monoliths glow. While Adrian prayed, everyone watched closer. Analysing his every move and breath. He was perfect even as a outsider. They wanted to know everything about him. Where he is from, what he did before this, his family, his past, his soul.. Adrian shephard.

Adrian.. Adrian shephard.
Where was he now? His mouth was moving under his mask but nothing but breaths were coming out.
He had found himself in that room again. But now it was bigger. And night. There was a phone ringing in the vacant emptiness past the cracks in the ceiling. He could see the stars. In his eyes, he was before the wishgranter once more. It glow blinding him. It pierced through his lenses, shattering them. The smaller shards trinkled and danced into his wide open eyes along with the scattered light which went through his lenses and into his eyes, going further into his brain in shards of wonder and light.
The crystallisation seemed to grow and crack and reform before his very own eyes, the surface seemed to be almost veiny in how it grew. A spiderweb of veins, connecting everyone and everything to the sky and the monolith, god.

Holy light. Loyalty. Fanatics. Veins growing and spreading, crawling towards Adrian invitingly. Yet not giving him a choice to back away. The light dug deeper through his eyes, entering his head fully while the veins reached his body. It crawled onto his skin and climbed, covering him in the web, in the truth, in the Noospheres physical crack. They forced Adrians mouth open, wrapping around his jaw and teeth before pulling apart. Adrian felt the vines raw, binding with his insides. Wrapping around his throat and lungs.
His skin was glowing, his veins clear as a broken lamp. Despite that, he did not stand out in the room. He was as significant as a single grain of sand in the moment. Like the ones right under his feet. If that would stay the same way was not of his choice. Adrian fell to his knees once again, though this time with a newfound importance. The monoliths glow reflected and scattered through his shattered lenses and eyes. Mixed feelings spilled through his body, aroused by the light of god before him. A chosen one - one might say. But a worthless one too. Adrian bowed both literally and metaphorically. Yet he still faced the holy light, to look away would be to deny its glory. His head was locked in place through sheer will. The is monolith invading his body and mind and yet he remains to think of its glory. The strings tied and ready to be pulled. But for now they lay still and wrapped around the man. The voices - once quiet- grew louder and more demanding. Mixed with the alluring voice of god were seven others. Speaking as if Adrian could not hear. The cracks and veins had completely wrapped around him, internally and externally. The shards of light buried deep in his brain and his mind.

The light everlasting.. even if dimming.

Adrian could not deny that the more he stared - the dimmer the light got. Burned pictures stared to form in his mind. Of a man with an Ak - 7 people and seven souls attacked. Bullets ran out loud in his ears. Coming from inside rather than outside. A crack formed in reality before him, a truth he could not deny. A horror to comprehend of god harmed and dimmed. Cracked and shattered to be fixed. A power missing to be replaced. His purpose spelled out before him, the only thing he can see.. is that he is to help. Another mortal among mortals - but a profet among disciples. Holy in a sea of holiness. A zombie  to a snork - though Adrian has no idea what a snork is. He understands. A man from a different world to save this one. A beautiful fate of glory. The gunshots become even clearer as he is blinded further. The shooter glistening in his mind as if to tell him what to do. Everything was growing dark. The shooter was gone in his mind and the glass shards of light and visor falling into his eyes like snowflakes had stopped glistening. All there was now was Adrian shephard and the monolith again. With a purpose - but unlike the others.. Adrian was fully aware, or atleast he thought so.

With one last breath, one last glimpse of the monolith. He closed his eyes and succumbed to it. His skin melting and peeling and rotting before it. Throwing up unconsciously as the monolith reminded him of his mortality. He felt weak again. His hair falling from him scalp and his brain turning to fuzz. He appeared like a rotting corpse.

And once he woke he was in the bookstore again. A stinging pain in his forearm and a lingering sense of buzz. He found himself leaning against a mess of planks and fabrics - the radio idol of the monolith. Yet its glow was not as glorious as the actual thing, he needed to see it in reality - or whatever mess he was in now. His left visor was broken and his vision felt slightly desaturated. The stars were twinkling so brightly before the windows, a sight to behold. Adrian shephard looked around as was the only reasonable thing to do. The others were all staring at him without moving - barely breathing. He felt a weird sense of symbiosis. These were his brothers. That he understood at a level beyond reason and logic. This was something to be proud of - the wishgranter and the monolithians. He only had one wish in this haze. And that was to stay. A true peace indeed. Adrian tried to focus his vision on himself but it felt impossible. He could hardly feel anything. Something soft was wrapped around his forearm. That he could feel, that was a change. Adrian stood up slowly, joining everyone else in the most fundamental world. A subtle world where one dies and one lives.*(Faust quote).
He could feel a shift in his bare existence. A relief of pain and anxiety. It was still weak for now. But his worries for his choices were fading. 

Shephard, Bayun, Anomaly, Mutant, Survivor, mouse. 

Titles not names.

Shephard smiled internally as nothing registered in his face which remained as blank as everyone elses.  He knew this madness would end one day if he chose to not embrace. Though The shephard did not quite know _what_ would happen. Hell, he might turn into a zombie. Probably not the ones from his world.. well not his world either.

The shephard walked to the corner once more, the one he first collapsed in and woke up here once more - he felt hungry, though quaint. The others gathered around him, wanting to know about him, about The Shephard. The shephard was mute of course, and only one understands his speak. He wrote and ate - Bayun translating what he could. The sausage he chose was both dry and soggy. Tasting terrible on a new level. What is a diet sausage.. what is it made of.. he felt to scared to ask. Through the haze of nullification. Many questions were asked that night, the wall covered in writings in both english and Ukrainian. The shephard wrote as much as he could remember, even if he seemed to blank out at times. Such as where he came from.

“North America, the past.” Ominous and true. The shephard swore he could hear the confusion in the others monotone voice and translated through Bayun. The shephard stretched and moved to fit all his writings on the wall. Well until his pen ran out of ink. He had had it for a while now. And he had no bloody idea where to get a new one. A simple marker he used to write in his diary. Which seemed to disappear into his mind as quickly as the horror it brought. The pages were worn and wet, some soaked with blood and some with the coffee he kept spilling everywhere. The words seemed to smear together into a mess of black and white. So he tucked it back into his pockets.

Some of the others seemed to want him to follow them as they waved at him almost eccentrically. And The shephard followed. The others wandered up the stairs and so did The shephard.  He was not upstairs a lot - the way out and the bathroom and the Idol were all downstairs. What he could remember from day one or two is that there were beds and a big hole in the walls of one of the rooms. The other monolithians walked with a robotic nature - one that The shephard could still not quite replicate perfectly. Each one after the other, order. Order often found in nature. One of them opened a door and the others went in after without direction. The shephard was led into the bedroom. He had been there before - right before he went outside if he could remember correctly. The room was simple and in clear ruin. A few beds strewn about. Some mattresses on the floor. All were old and stained and the beds rusty. And yet it was both alive and dead. Sheets were uneven with holes. There still was that PDA on one of the beds. Unused and dark. One of the monolithians walked towards that bed and picked up the PDA, inspecting it shortly before turning it on. The others walked to the beds and mattresses and sat down, watching The shephard and the one with the electronic device. The shephard felt weird in this situation, an odd sensation yet not quite an emotion. The one inspecting it very suddenly spoke up In Ukrainian. His voice almost identical to Bayun’s. He then paused for a moment before switching to a very hard to understand English.

«I Mouse. Yours.»

He said, The shephard barely understood anything but ‘i mouse’. He was though then handed the PDA. It had been reset and switched to english. The translations were shitty. But on it, there was a menu titled ‘statistics’ and in it.. was he. ‘The shephard’. This was his PDA now. And he barely knew what it was. And a feeling returned. Of belonging. They had given him something, changed it so he could be with them. The shephard stared at it and some of the things on it. Mainly a map. Where he was it said ‘Pripyat’. And south on it there was a place. ‘Chornobyl nuclear power plant.’ He was actually shocked. And he finally figured out he was in Ukraine. The rest of the night was a blur. He remembered staring at it on the bed for hours until he passed out. He did not want to miss anything. April. The 20th. 2012.  - That is now.

Chapter Text

Again. Again The shephard wakes up, but for once he wakes up in a bed. The bed was slightly stiff and warm. The shepard felt a crick in his neck and groaned as he stretched. His back and elbows popped nicely as he did but his shoulders took a little more work to fix. The shephard looked around and saw that he was the first one awake. It seemed like the sun had not even risen yet, as per The shephards sleep schedule before appearing here. He let out a long sigh and cleared his breath a few times before looking down into his bed and finding that he had slept on his PDA. Which does explain the crick. Although the PDA seemed to be in much better shape than his neck. Not a crack.

The shephard wondered what they were made off but that was nothing to ponder on for the moment. It was still quiet. The room filled with the occasional creaking and snoring. And of course - breathing. The breathing was almost to loud. The shephard let out a sound similar to a whimper and sighed. He turned to sit on the edge of the bed and stared ahead.

His face and neck hurt from sleeping in the gas mask. His helmet was on the floor - thank the monolith and the zone for that.  His vision felt slightly blurry to the left and his arms felt weak. As per usual. The Shephard groaned as he rose to his feet. The world spinning for a few seconds which led him to almost loose his balance. He felt, he felt once more. A dizzying sickness that called him to the toilet to throw up once again. He was quick in his mind to leave but his body refused to speed up.

slow weak steps still made the floor creak. Even if the floor was of concrete - It felt like the noises were coming from his mind. The sounds never quite synced with his steps. His steps were weak and reminiscent of a penguin meanwhile - he hoped he could remember the way to the toilet, but at the same time there were not many rooms in the bookstore. He’d find his way eventually. Opening a door to find the grime filled and rotting bathroom he was previously in still filled him with a hint of disgust. The shephard groaned and stared down at the floor, the tiles were cracked and somehow moss was growing through…. How nice. The shephard eventually forced his head up to face the man in the mirror. Adrian stared back, broken between the shards. The shephards eyes widened as he raised a hand to the mirror then his mask.

The left lens was shattered and beneath it was a completely pale eye, just white. No veins, no pupil or iris. Just white. His right eye was normal. He slowly and carefully lowered his hand but paused, there was still bandage on his arm. Adrian stared at The shephard with fear, then concern, then apathy. Melding into one with The shephard as he peeled off the bandages with what should have been shaky hands. But they were steady - more steady than he ever has been before. Layer by layer he’d come to discover that there was no blood nor a wound. Just blank ink covering the lower part of his forearm, he held it to the mirror. In some shards it was there and in others it was not. «S.T.A.L.K.E.R» was written boldly.

The shephard stares down as his eyes narrow slightly. The marking was pretty, for one, but odd. The shephard tilted his head up to the mirror again and looked through it to the door, not daring to turn his back to the mirror. 

The man removed his gloves and mask with careful precision. Peeling the leather off each finger and lifting the hard plastic off his head with the straps messing up his hair. The man staring back in the mirror was still The shephard. No matter how hard he tried. He covered his eye and rolled down his sleeve and still there was only The shephard. His pupil dilated in the mirror, even more apparent with his widened eyes. He refused to blink. in a staring competition with himself, honestly he was terrified to loose.

His fingers gripped the edges of the shattered mirror with as much force as he could handle in this moment of mortification. One hand moved to cover the mirrors eyes as The shephard closed his own. Only now could he breathe. The shephard started to tremble, each step he took felt way to heavy and uncontrollable. Each step was dragging him closer to the door, to an exit to the mirrors insanity. His eyelids felt both dry and tense as he tried his very bestest to close out the world. The back of his head made contact with the door first, then his back and then his hand. The mans fingers kept trying to slide along the rotten wood and to the cold metal handle. It was that kind of metal that would stain your hands with its scent. Probably because of the amount of rust. The shephard gripped it tightly and pushed it down and back with a sudden burst of energy. Even then he still felt bars around the room and chains around his limbs. He fell to his knees and grabbed his mask and gloves. Exactly how he left them on the dirty floor. One shattered green lens and one external filter on the hard, brownish yellow plastic. He put the mask on again, the tight straps closing around his face to create that sweaty seal once more. His gloves were next on his equally sweaty hands, they were quite difficult to put on due to the grippy slippyness of sweat but he got the gloves on once more. He felt slightly less naked now, and less dirty. In the newcomers eye the zone was dirty - unhygienic and uncomfortable as he had not yet understood it fully. The floor looked old and dirty, so it was in his eye.

Quiet, it was still quiet. The shephard slowly rose from the ground shakily and with hesitation. His body ached and hurt from wherever he had nerves. His arms, back, legs, head and chest all felt like imploding and turning him into a pile of guts and skin. The shephard whined as he left the bathroom for the last time this hour. His steps were slightly more confident and stable this time as he walked back to the bedrooms. The door was open and creaked as he opened it wider to get in. The room was still filled with the snoring of the monolithians, but it was slightly more quiet. Filled with more breathing than snoring. Some PDAs were turned on and sent light through the room in sharp geometric shapes . Those that were turned on were held by some of the soldiers that were awake. Some were sitting and staring at the PDA, presumably typing something into it while some were lying down with it on, not even looking at it - simply the light was keeping them awake. They seemed so sleepy, not averting their gaze to The shephard as he sat down on the bed again. It had cooled down since he last sat here which made him reach for his own PDA and turn it on. 06;43. The shephard looked up and to everyone, their gas masks or balaclavas, suits, gloves, bags, guns and shoes. Everything he could. The urban camo was dirty with years of use. Old caked in blood mixed with the dust of gravel and dirt made the white so much more grey or brown. The blacks stayed mostly consistent while the greens of their suits were clearly stained.

The shephard closed his eyes, again. And again. Just kept closing even if he did not feel them opening again. The time kept ticking even if there was no actual clock in the room. He heard each tick, each breath and each heartbeat. They were all static noise till they all synced into a single beat.

06;50  07;03  

And then it was 8;46. Everyone had woken up and some had left the bedroom. The shephard was only now waking up fully. It was back to normalcy. The shephard groaned as he stood up and made his way down via the cold cold stairs. He was not even touching them via skin yet he felt it strong. It was a cold day - especially with the breeze spreading through the building due to the countless holes. The Shephard sat down by the idol again, his eyes fought to be open and so did his mind. Everyone else seemed perfectly fine. Their movements as fluid as that weird black Australian spread that starts with M. The shephard could not remember for the life of him. The prayer was weird as usual. The static in his mind was so loud. —— The light was the only colour he could see, simple as that. Blue, or maybe yellow. It was hard to tell, the colours felt more like an idea. The shephard mouthed out the prayer insync with his movements. Each movement felt easier and easier on his soul. And yet the static remains in his vision. Forcing him to focus on the only colour even if he could not tell what it was. The monolith spoke to him again. It’s voice melting away the worries and thoughts. The shephard only needed one thing, to see, to follow the voice. Oh, he wanted to smile. he wanted to ask questions but he still could not muster the power to make a sound to the god before him. The shephard closed his eyes as the light was blinding him. And then he was back in the bookstore. The moment felt so short and fleeting, he wanted to go back. 

The others ushered for him to start moving. Handing him some ammo and his PDA. He groaned quietly as he moved to stand, his body still stiff from his sleep. The shephard walked over to the corner he had slept in previously and picked up the old AK he had been given before. He does not quite remember when though, as soon as he tries to remember anything his mind rejects it. Everything turning to static. The gun was cold in his hands and he did not feel it. A monolithian grabbed his shoulder suddenly and dragged him outside. The sounds of skin and fabric scraping across asphalt was not pleasant to say the least. The shephard protested weakly before being thrown to his knees, the soldier meant no ill intent, he just thought The shephard was being slow. He was quickly on his feet with a pained expression. The others had already started walking so The shephard sped up to get back in the group. He was slightly disgruntled by how fast the monolithians were walking as in his pained state he could not walk that fast, the others did not seem to notice though. They just kept walking. The shephard dug around in his pockets and took out his PDA. Just looking around the different menus. It said he had 0 RU. Which hurt. The shephard looked up from the screen every now and them but they seemed to still be just walking aimlessly. So he switched to the map, there were a lot of locations without names but two that did have names was the bookstore and Pripyat. It was still a bit jarring to find himself a few 10+ years in the future in a different continent, country, and city than before. But he knew no way back so this was his home for now. For ever. 

The city streets were as grey and square as the next. Every building was a cement block with tiny squares for windows and a bit of grass below. “Painfully soviet” he’d say.  There were rotting dog corpses along the roads, some rodent and some human. It was a bit disturbing to just leave them there. It reminded The shephard of Black mesa a place he does not remember. Repetition is one way to describe the ghost city, and yet despite the quietness.. it felt right. Unlike what he was used to, yes. But right. Even if the groups steps were the only sounds for long periods of time. Before those popping noises echoed through the streets. And barking, and growling.  Nevertheless, there was noise as there was quiet. The shephard studied the streets closely once more, he could see that circus wheel again, unmoving and old. The streets were starting to change again, less repetition of buildings and now some new shapes. There still was that ever present grey cube with windows motif. But now he saw a store, or atleast he thought it was one. Most apartment complexes are not one story and with a sign on top, and windows for half the walls. The streets shape was actually quite interesting. Roads with grass and trees on the edge. That’s not something he saw much in America. Life. There were small flowers blooming in the grass, tiny and unassuming. Probably because they were harmless. The shephard could note on the fact that he could not smell them, as in they had no smell. All he smelled was the air and gunpowder mixed with blood. The flowers were blooming without smell. The shephard stared blankly at them as he walked, he looked calm. Though that might have been purely visual. He saw himself in those flowers. Another monolith paid no mind, and so did the next. Altough one of them stopped and bent down next to a large patch of mixed flowers. The shephard stopped in his tracks and so did the rest. While he bent down next to the other one everyone else just stood up and waited. The monolithian said something in Ukrainian before plucking out some flowers carefully. Only grabbing the ones that looked to be closing. The shephard tried to grab one he thought was pretty but his hand was slapped away right before he got to pluck the bright red poppy. The other monolith probably said something like telling him to stop but The shephard did not understand. They both stood up shortly after, the monolithian with arms full of flowers and The shephard with a weak ache in his grip. “Why is their grip so strong?…” The shephard thought with a slight groan as he touched and rotated his wrist.

And so the group kept walking. The shephard was half focusing on the streets and half on his PDA. For the half-life of him he could not figure out where they were going.* Altough as he was so focused he was stunned for a second when everything suddenly became dark. He looked around for a few seconds before turning on his nightvision and found that they were in.. an old parking garage..? The others just kept walking! But then he looked to his left, and his right. Men dressed in grey camo and green armour and gas masks. They were still yet on alert with their guns kept safely in their hands; Monolithians. More - MORE monolithians. The shephard felt either Déjà vu or Jamais vu and he could not tell which. They sat and nodded as they walked past as if they were nothing but wanderers or brothers. It felt surreal. The shephard though had no time to stop walking and he continued following them.

Light broke through his lenses shortly and he was blinded. The shephard quickly moved his hands to cover the lenses and turn the nightvision off as soon as possible, but the light still took a while to adjust too. One of the monolithians covered their face as well as they got out of the tunnel. The city looked a bit different from this side, the buildings were lower and he could see a very unique building. It was hard for The shephard to explain or describe it.  There was like a wall or mural you could go through to enter a central square, it was not square shaped but square as in streets. There was a building connected to it aswell with long windows pointing to the central walking space. The shephard watched closely as they walked closer and closer to it. And the closer he got - the more he found. Dozens of monolithians. Way to many to count. Everyone dressed similarly, in gas masks and urban camo or the special tough suit that one is his group wore. He shakily took out his PDA to find the name of the building ‘Palace of culture’.. This was hardly a palace, though there was the right amount of people for it. The shephard was intrigued and still a bit horrified by how many there were, all dressed similarly and acting so. Stiff movements without much personality and a low monotone voice speaking that language they all did. Everyone walked past the doors as if it was normal, this can’t be normal - right?! The shephard kept his pace though it was subtly degrading. Around him countless monolithians walked around and sat. Altough.. there were tables everywhere. And rocks. So many bloody rocks..  they would pick them up and stare at them as if they were god itself, and in their defence - some of the crystals did look like god. And some were painted with beautiful yet trippy patterns. It was quite a distraction from his mind just to stare at the many beautiful crystals, minerals and rocks. He wanted to touch some of them but he had a feeling it would not be appreciated based on his earlier interaction. The others in his group split up and he was lost in a wave of dozens of people who all look the same. The shephard just kept walking around, every step was quiet compared to everyone elses. Though Shephard could not help but notice that many did not speak to eachother and if they did it was quiet. It was all such white noise and nothing else. Nothing did stand out. Not even The shephard. Out of the corner of his lense he saw some soldiers walking inside the building connected to this plaza. The doors were open and the windows were dark, there was no life showing through transparent glass. His steps were slow and calculated with caution. The shephards eye scanned every crack of concrete and every broken window, which there were none of. The air inside was closed off and dry as the dust littering the ground everywhere. But it was grounded powder dust and not like hair. Dust and spiderwebs. They all seemed old. There was not that many bugs in the webs, not one that he could find that was not a spider itself. Would around and empty. The remainder of a meal. The shephard wondered breifly for a moment if spiders were more edible to other spiders if they had already started eating themselves. But that thought quickly got ripped out with a subtle gag. He tried to figure out why in the world he would think that while not thinking about it. And in his distracted mind he walked right into a cold, hard lifeless surface.

«Блядь, ты в порядке, брат?»

A deep, dark and almost multilayered voice spoke out. Though by every second it got clearer. It was haunting and beautiful. The shephard opened his eyes and found himself deep inside the buildings, he could see no windows and barely any lights. Most of which were oil or candles. The walls were covered in words, text and paintings of God. Every stroke avoided the cracks of the canvas. There were a few cracks on the paintings themselves. But those paintings were old and the cracks were new. The blues and whites used were bright and vibrant against the ever dull walls. Lights were placed and hung in the middle of most of the paintings, it looked quite magical. The shephard found himself distracted again for a moment before he turned to the source of the voice. And infront of a light stood a tall, imposing monolith. He wore a grey suit like some others. There seemed to be things and tubes poking out and wrapping around his limbs. It was mechanical and an imitation of something he could not quite figure out. The shephard opened his mouth for a moment before closing it right after. His breathing was heavy beneath his gas mask and it was so fucking hot in there. The shephard nodded slowly and gave a thumbs up as a response. Hoping that nobody else saw when he just walked straight into a wall. Magnificent truly.  The man who did exuded an aura of power and respect, a demand of eyes and thought. And yet he wore the same suit as many others he had seen. Used the same rifle and the same gas mask. 

« О. Привіт? Ты здесь, кажется, новичок, брат.» 

The man spoke again, and like almost every time somebody tried to speak to The shephard here, he had no idea what they were saying. The shephard just smiled and nodded while slowly trying to walk away - but he was stopped by the man putting a hand on his shoulder, it was so cold. The shephard froze in his step and slowly looked back.

« Шепард. »

it was quiet, so quiet in that room after his name was uttered. The shephard could feel every small movement of fabric on his skin as he stood there. Not a thought in his mind of what to do or say.

« Мы  - »

The man started speaking, pointing to himself before continuing. His tone was permanently calm and monotone like everyone in this  dead city, but the soldiers he had killed. The shephard stopped focusing for just a moment as he remembered that event.

« - Чарон. »

The man finished. The shephard thought for a few seconds. “That was probably his name, right? Is Charon not like.. a ferryman of death?” His mind moved hastily to process it before The shephard nodded at Charon. But how did they know his name? He had literally never said it and he had not seen Charon near the wall or bookstore or- fuck! The shephard stared in horror at the leader he had no idea about.

————————

Chapter Text

The shephards eyes followed every movement of Charon. As he moves the hydrolic systems of the exoskeleton push and press. The noises filled the basement in the ghost town. The shephard wondered if Charon was death. Charons aura was nothing short of powerfull and demanding, his mind unable to speak up or do anything. Even his internal monolog grew quiet in fear. The shephard took a deep breath before reaching out his hand shakily. Charon on the other hand studied The shephard quickly before looking away. his pale eyes had followed the shephards one white eye. a sliver of recognition in his eyes. Charon turned his head to the side before fishing out a pen and handing it to The shephard. 

> "Take it, Komrad. "

Charon said coldly as he jerked his hand to give more emphasis to the pen as The shephard did not seem to understand that he was meant to take it.

The shephard then suddenly grabbed it with the hand he outstretced for a awkward amount of time. He laughed even more awkwardly as he stared at the pen as if it was the most confusing machine ever. Like a victorian child with a nuclear reactor. The shephard really took a long good look at it, the walls were not of the most accepting material but he tried his best. His body moved towards one of the walls with a weak determination to walk but a strong one to live. He felt fear over the other man — a fear to follow rather than lead. To submit.  So Stepan took off the cap slowly and started to write. His hands shook a little with the rest of his body. Was it cold? He wondered. They were in a basement of a cement building, and it was april - right? Of course it would be chilly.

The shephard kept writing while his thoughts strayed in every other direction imaginable. He almost smiled. He kept thinking of how ridiculous this was, he was fearing something he did not even know of, he had really no idea why he was scared or what would happen if he did not. Charon was the same size as him, almost exactly. And spoke in a voice that felt familiar and yet distant. The shephard wrote down his questions, not waiting for an answer before he wrote the next. His mind truly too far gone to understand. He thought, that was all that he did. He let out a quiet whimper as his eye started to twitch, and so did his arms and body. His mind pulled out of itself - he lost his balance and fell to the ground, pen still in hand. And so he kept writing.

The shephard stopped as his mind could not conjure up a single more question to ask. The wall was already covered in his manic writing, yet it looked the same as every worshipping line of text here. Meanwhile Charon had just been staring at him for a while now. Not moving to interrupt or say anything. Not a squeak had been heard and maybe not even a blink. His pale eyes focused on the text and The shephard simultaneously. And when Charon walked forwards and roughly yet smoothly grabbed the pen to write answers. 

> «Oh. You remind us of somebody we knew.» 

Charon said bluntly and coldy as he reached to only answer a few questions. Not a single emotion in his eyes. The pen glid against the wall smoother in the leaders hand yet they trembled just the tiniest bit. A small shake maybe, or a constant twitching. Charon did not acknowledge it visibly. His eyes did though follow down to it as he lifted the pen to inspect it. He saw it was shaking and just continued writing. The pen nib was already fucked up from the walls rough texture, and it looked like Charons skin. Red, rough, ruined yet useable. Not useless despite itself. 

on the wall were simple answers, in Ukrainian. The shephard had a feeling what they meant.

“Why am i here?” «You will know.»

”what is this?” «We will know.»

no other questions were answered. They just had small drawings next to it. The shephard got frustrated and grabbed Charons pen without must resistance before writing down his final question in pure red. 

“what is the monolith? Why does he speak to me?” 

the shephard wrote with such force it almost broke the nib. He was tired and he needed answers. Even if it felt like the questions were breaking him apart to simply write. He wrote, he needed an answer. Why does he hear a voice that is not there. Why does it call to him. “Why does it call to me.” He asked himself. He opened his mouth to speak. To really do it, he forced the sounds and vocals out of his throat and lungs. It felt wrong. He did not want to speak. Yet he did. He was forced to. It was not him.

- “Charon.” 

The shephard spoke. On point despite it being his voice - weak raspy and unused. Usually whenever he tried speaking it sounded whimpy and quiet. Now it was louder, stronger. Not him. He felt those veins again. Crawling on his skin and up his face, growing and pulsating as it forced his mouth open and went in. Growing in his throat and gagging him. Crawling down his throat. Wrapping around whatever was down there, his vocal cords, his lungs, his heart. They pushed with force and compressed him. His organs were strangled and melded into one once more. It kept happening. Veins and his own become one. And he does not resist even as it hurts so badly.

Meanwhile Charon stood still. In The shephards eyes Charon rotted. The suit was gone and he stood there in a simple stained shirt and some pants. Nothing important or noteable. What took his focus was how Charon grew increasingly more pale, more sickly and grey. Right before his eyes Charon decayed. And the mask remains. Even as the neck began to peel. His skin drooped and dragged. It looked to be trying to escape his own body. And Charon did not react. Standing perfectly still as his body rejected itself. Skin peeling off in layers and chunks before dropping to the ground. Sometimes muscle would come with in small chunks. It was gross. The shephard felt like throwing up again. He felt it too. He felt his own skin giving up. There was barely any blood as it tore off. It already looked old. He felt the skin sag and cover his eyes. He felt the cool on his muscle and bones. He felt. The shephard wanted to scream, yell and cry all over again. And yet this time he stayed put. The pain was lessening even as his bones became more and more exposed. He felt numb - a pile of bones. He felt tired and weak. The shephard wondered if Charon felt it too. The horrid feeling. It slowly took over and made him stop. His mind was a host and he could feel it. Infact it felt familiar. Decay. The shephard knew this was not real even if it felt like so. He stared down at his arm and saw the word written in his skin and bone. S.T.A.L.K.E.R. He was not surprised. He had no reason to be. The shephard looked up at Charon who looked the same. It was quiet. Bones with masks cannot speak.

”monolith..”

the shephard whispered. His own voice rough and young. Unused like himself.

”save.. Us…”

No reaction even when their organs, muscle and skin started to crawl up again. The organs came first - squeezing through his ribs and clothes to get in place and he felt it all. He felt his organs moving and he felt them shift. He felt every heartbeat and he felt his lungs expanding and shrinking. Next came the gross muscle tissue, he saw how it crawled up and wrapped around Charons body. Strings of white, red and pink derotting. It was worse than rot. Too see it. And to feel it. To feel your nerves connecting and living again. To feel it while seeing it happen in perfect sync with another. Their skin was the worst. It claimed their bodies rotten and painfully slowly went back to how it was before. He could feel the skin that fell off and he could feel it fusing back. Ultimately he was returned to normal. The ink still in his arm and so was the cut from.. how many days ago..? Uppsetting.. disturbing.. vile. So many ways to describe what just happened. The shephard shakily leaned down and picked up the pen to write a final thing.

”did you feel that?”

And Charon did not reply. He just walked over and grabbed The shephards other arm and started guiding him uppstairs to the others. Altough The shephard noticed that it was now morning again. He thought back to the fact that time went so fast here and he let it go. His mind was disturbed and shook. Permanently. The walls looked the exact same as before. Cracked and decayed. The shephard looked down at his arm and noticed how pale he looked, he guessed it was from the lack of sunlight. It had to be that.. right? 

the sunlight blinded him as he was thrown into the light. It did not blind him as the monolith did. More a general temporary blindness. There were still dozens of soldiers with the same uniforms. But everything had moved. He had no idea how long he had been in that basement but it felt like 10 minutes. And yet everything looked newly moved. The shephard was dropped carelessly onto the hard asphalt ground by Charon. Even as The shephard sat up as quickly as he could he did not have enough time to spot Charon walking away. The man was gone in a blink. And now The shephard was alone while surrounded by strangers. He moved to rest by a pillar and stare at everyone. He did his best to try to hear what they were saying and to make sense of it.. but it was so hard. All voices blended together into one soulless symphony.  A white noise that he was all too familiar too here, a static. 

Monolithians walked around him without even looking at him - yet nobody tripped over him. Everyone avoided him closely. Slightly changing how they walked and thought without knowing. The shephard was quiet, his jaw tense and his teeth grinding against eachother as he thought and watched. Soldiers walked around with rocks in their hands - extravagant rocks shaped like pillars, shaped like weird orbs or a geometric formation. The shephard enjoyed it. A small and plain spectacle to watch. The shepherd did not even realise that he was not moving, and when he did - he did not care. He sat still, his ass on the hard ground and his back on the cracking grey pillar. And above all - his mind was nowhere to be found. The people walked. Talked. The sun lowered over the sky slowly. The sky turned red pretty quickly altough. Very red - not just the horizon. The people slowed down, stood still before sitting down on their knees. Each one after another as if it was meant to look organic. Everyone prayed - and The shephard watched. His mind and nerves did start to feel attacked though. Reacting to something he could not see.

a shadow cast over him in the shape of Charon again. Back to grab him again and drag him inside of the building. The ground shook again - The shephard felt some sort of recognition. Déjà vu? No, the feeling was gone as quickly as it came, he sat on the dirty cement of the ground floor of the palace of culture. Watching as the monoliths prayed on their knees. Charon left him there. Walking out to blend into the ocean of grey green and brown. The shephard watched for a good minute before slowly pushing his body to move. To sit. To pray with them. Chanting without sound under his mask. Except every now and then one word would come out of his mouth.

«monolit.»

——-

the ground shook and the sky flashed in bright concentrations of pitch darkness and blinding white. The shephard watched sort of - he could not focus on anything but the prayers. The words he struggled to speak. His right eye was twitching wildly. Resisting the air and light. While his left blinked every 10 seconds or so. Seeing the light beyond the visor - it was shattered on the left side. It was beautiful. He felt called to it yet pushed and chained down to just watch. Even as he wanted to go and watch the sky. 

«Monolit… Ты благословил зону?» 

The shephard saw it. Felt it. He felt it stabilise and calm down. He saw the fanatics get up and continue their duties. He saw as some walked towards him - speaking that language he did not speak. The shephard felt his body stand up and begin walking after them.. and he could only watch.