Chapter Text
"I'm serious Zlata!"
"I thought you were Jackson?"
Jackson sighed, dragging his hand down his face, leaning back in his chair, "Alright alright, very funny."
Zlata laughed, sipping her coffee and shaking her head, "You walked into that one."
"Yeah, yeah I did, but really Zlata," He sat forward again, pushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, "We could get the research samples we've wanted for so long!"
Zlata shrugged, sipping her coffee again. She glad she'd loaded it down with enough sugar and milk to give her dentist a heart attack, even with the new coffee machine the stuff got in the Bunker was terrible! One would think, with all the research grants and international donations the Exclusion Zone Research Institute received, they could afford to get it's scientists decent coffee, no?
"Jackson, you're brave, but I think you've got more bravery than brains sometimes."
"Come on Zlata, I've known Seeker for ages, plus we'll have Smerch and Mikhail!"
"Who's Mikhail?"
Jackson smiled, leaning in conspiratorially, "He's new, he's the one who found the way through into the centre of Pripyat from the factory!"
Shaking her head in disbelief Zlata stood, going to make herself another cup of coffee, "You want to go to the centre of Pripyat, without going through the underground? You know how insane that is, right?"
He stood, following her across the small cafeteria, "I know it sounds crazy, but Mikhail has photos to prove it! I even checked with Tourist, there's no way he go into Pripyat through the underground!" He turned leaning his hip on the counter, "Seriously Zlata, don't tell me you're scared?"
"Scared of what?"
"You've never heard the stories?"
She pinched the bridge of her nose, "Jackson, some of us work for a living rather than getting drunk in Yanov Station."
"Jeeez, alright," He rolled his eyes, "Stories about the Monolith."
"The Monolith?" She shook her head again, "Now I know you're joking."
"They're real, why do you think we can't get close to X-18?" Jackson countered, standing up straight again, "But it's fine, they haven't been in the centre of Pripyat for months, not since that whole big fracas with Strelok and those other Loners."
Zlata stopped, looking up from the coffee machine's controls as it whirred and hissed, "Wasn't he the one Kostyantan was working with? Y'know, before he died?"
"Hey hey, we don't know Kos is dead…" Protested Jackson.
She sighed, taking her refilled mug and moving to supplement it with more sugar and cream than the last one, "Come on Jackson, what else could've happened?"
The other Ecologist was silent for a long moment, simply leaning on the counter and staring at his shoes while she stirred her dentist destroying brew. Jackson and Kostyantan had been close, they were both engineers after all. She remembered when Kostyantan had first come by, telling them about how Sakharov was sending him to find the legendary Strelok, the "Greatest Stalker", he'd been so excited. Jackson just shook his head, standing straight again and moving towards the door to the rest of the bunker.
Before he went through he stopped, turning to look at Zlata over his shoulder, "Look, I'm meeting them tomorrow afternoon up at the old checkpoint, it's in view of the bunker, and of Yanov, if you don't think it's a good idea, then we'll pack it in, but, at least meet them first?"
"Fine, but I make no promises."
The sky was fuzzy above the checkpoint, the old chain-link rattled and clicked in the window and quietly spattering rain. The old building were silent, except the three Stalkers stood around the four way crossroad to it's front.
They were a motley bunch to Zlata's eye. Robed in the light ballistic vests, two piece suit and second hand gas masks that Free Stalkers were so fond of. Armed with a broad selection of rifles she couldn't name, nor overly cared to.
"These are our 'guides'?" She asked Jackson, adjusting the cuffs of her SP-99M, the red fabric of her 'Ruby' class suit a garish clash against the more subtle green of Jackson's.
He nodded, waving to the three Stalkers as he approached, "Yup, don't worry, we won't run into anything dangerous, I got a report from the Mercs on mutant numbers, they're at rock bottom!"
"Even if they weren't," Claimed one of the Stalkers, hefting his AK up onto his shoulder, "We could handle them, ain't that right Smerch?"
'Smerch' looked up from his PDA with a confused "Huh?" Before catching on, "Oh yeh, yeah don't worry about it!"
"Riiiiight" Muttered Zlata, looking side long at Jackon, which was completely lost through the opaque visor of her SP-99 and Jackson's complete lack of introspection.
He jogged up, shaking hands with the first two, before turning to the third, seemingly the youngest of the trio, only in a long coat, vest and respirator, "Ready for this Mikhail?"
The younger man nodded resolutely, eye bright under his jacket's leather hood. Adjusting the sling on his shotgun, the twelve-gauge pump action seemed two sized two large for the man, although really he was closer to a boy to Zlata's eye.
"So, if you're Smerch, and you're Mikhail," She turned to the most veteran looking of the group, "You're Seeker?"
The first Stalker to speak nodded, his armour was heavier than the rest, his gas mask-helmet combo giving him an air of power and presence, along with his heavily modified AK. Jackson seemed to nod appreciatively, starting to yammer on about armour and modifications with him, Zlata tuned them out, turning her attention back to Mikhail.
He really was a boy, he adjusted the shotgun's sling again, checking the shell loops, seemingly counting them. Zlata moved over to him, bumping his shoulder with her fist. The poor boy's eyes snapped up to her visor, nearly dropping his shotgun in surprise, "Ye-yes?"
"Are you alright?" She asked, tilting her head.
Mikhail simply nodded a few times, "Yeah, yeah of course, why uh, why wouldn't I be?"
"You uh, seem nervous… you're a rookie, aren't you?"
The boy shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other, before shrugging, "So what if I am?"
Zlata sighed, shaking her head, of course. Of course their 'guide' was some wet behind the ears Rookie! She was going to kill Jackson. She turned, ready to give him hell, only for Mikhail to catch her wrist.
"Look Miss, Ecologist, I may be a rookie." He took a breath, looking at his shoes before lifting his head and putting his shoulders back, Zlata could see the glint of steel in his blue-grey eyes, "But I've lived on the edge of The Zone all my life, my dad was a Stalker, and so was my granddad before him."
Zlata nodded, Mikhail letting her go and moving down the road. She shook her head, looking to Jackson who turned to her, shrugging, before following the Stalker down the road.
She had a feeling she'd regret this, but she moved to follow as well.
Pripyat was quiet.
Nothing but a huge, silent grave yard.
Each apartment block a solemn stone, memorializing dozens families, generations of people, whole existences simply, stopped.
Once upon a time, Zlata imagined, they'd been home to other families. Dens of foxes, families of dogs and packs of wolves intermixing, whole colonies of birds lifting in forgotten lofts and attics.
And now there was nothing, all over again.
Mikhail had been telling the truth. It had a complicated, circuitous route, but it was there. A slim trail that snaked back and forth through apartment buildings, down alley ways, across wide, cracked streets. But now they were here, in the centre of Pripyat. She could see Pripyat Hotel in the distance, before loomed the Palace Of Culture. She stopped for a few seconds, taking it all in…
A hand bumped her shoulder, jerking her from her contemplations. Jackson walked past, gesturing her to follow, "Come on, we don't wanna get left behind."
He was right, Smerch and Seeker were heading up their party now, Mikhail taking up a position in the rear. The two Veterans moved slowly, carefully, rifles scanned back and forth, checking windows, manoeuvring in short, sharp bounds, covering each other.
Zlata did her best to keep up, adjusting her grip on her glock. She was wishing she'd spent more time practising, but no use crying about it now. Jackson was doing better, he spent more time in the field, his steps carried him confidently across the uneven, craggy streets. The group was approaching a crossroad, smattered with destruction, chunks of concrete, old buses and rusted out cars. Seeker and Smerch came to a stop, looking to each other.
"I'll go first," Smerch muttered, looking to Seeker, "I'll find a way through the anomalies, you lead the eggs heads, deal?"
Seeker was quiet for several seconds, eyes no doubt sweeping back and forth across the jagged ground behind his gas mask. He looked down, picking up a pebble, a piece of concrete, and then launched it, over the hood of the car he was crouched behind. It tumbled unevenly through the air before hitting an invisible wall, the air shifting like oil on water before it settled again. He sighed and muttered something Zlata couldn't hear under his breath, before nodding to Smerch.
The first Stalker returned the nod, shifting his AK onto it's sling, drawing a pistol in one hand and a few nuts and bolts in the other. Moving slowly and keeping his head low, he shifted forward, every now and then stopping, flicking a bolt through the air, watching it's trail, then following if nothing happened, or, if it hit an anomaly, moving to the side and throwing another bolt. Several times he had to stop and retrace his steps, detouring around an anomaly, at least once or twice Zlata was sure he was going to crawl over or under a rusted car, or though the window of a bus.
After an age, he reached the other side of the crossing, turning and sweeping his pistol back and forth, no doubt looking for any mutants or would be ambushers. After disappearing behind a bus for a moment, he reappeared, holstering his pistol and gesturing for the other to follow.
Seeker nodded, adjusting his grip on his AK, taking a few bolts from his vest and moving to follow Smerch. He turned just before crossing into the open, "Mikhail, you're in the rear, you two," He pointed at Zlata and Jackson, "Follow exactly in my foot steps, if you don't… not my fault if you bite it."
Carefully, watching his feet, Seeker began moving forward. He followed the same path as Smerch. Stopping at the end of one of the buses, there was a gap of several meters before the next piece of solid cover. He leaned partly around the bus, before nodding, then jogged across the gap. Zlata made to follow as he got half way across, but as she took a step forward, Seeker stumbled to the side and sharp crack filled the air, followed a half second later by an echoing boom. The group froze, Seeker continuing to stumble forward for a few steps, before crashing forward onto his front.
"Fuck! Sniper!" Mikhail yelled, dropping to his knees, pressing his back to the body of the bus.
Jackson reached out, grabbing Zlata's shoulder, dragging her back as she tried to cross the gap, "Zlata are you mad??"
"He's hurt," She whirled around to face him, "We can't just leave him out there!"
"That's exactly what they want, they're trying to draw us out." Was his reply as he continued pulling her back.
Smerch dipped and scrambled his way back through the anomalies, keeping his head as low as possible, even hurling himself across a break in the cover at one point. He crawled on his hands and knees the last part of the way, pressing his back to a long deflated tire.
"Mikhail, did you see where the shot came from?"
When the younger boy shook his head the older Stalker swore, and began digging around in his vest. He pulled free a small hand mirror, holding it around the end of the car, manoeuvring it side to side, before he shook his head and pulled it back. He swore quietly as she shifted himself into a low crouch, looking to Mikhail again.
"Go back the way we came, take the egg heads with you, there's an alleyway at the end of the first apartment block on the right, understood?" He waited for the boy to nod before continuing, "Go down that alley, there's a small park on the other side, I'll meet you there alright?"
Again the boy nodded, but Jackson sat up, "How are you going to get there?"
Smerch simply shrugged and waved away his concern, "I'll figure something out, just go while I draw fire."
Without another word the Stalker turned away, scrabbling to the other end of the rusted vehicle, adjusting himself into a crouch and bringing up his AK. sliding it through what remained of the driver's side door he began to fire short, controlled bursts through the empty space that once held a front windshield. Zlata spared one last look at the cooling corpse of Seeker, his still head haloed in crimson read the seeped into the concrete and stained the weeds that sprouted between the cracks.
Jackson gripped her shoulder, pulling her away from the sight. They made back the way they had come, dodging through the anomalies they'd already passed and then running, as fast as their legs would carry them up the wide, silent street. The chattering echo of Smerch's AK bouncing faintly off the high, flat faced apartments.
Zlata was lost in her own world. The image of Seeker jerking to the side, the spray of red that she hadn't even registered when it had first happened, the way he crashed, limp, a puppet with strings cut, to the grey road under him. So lost she didn't hear Jackson swearing until it was too late. Didn't register the crunch of an brutal impact till there was nothing she could do.
The last thing she remembered was a figure in a white and grey jacket, and a rifle stock streaking towards her face. Then everything went black.