Observation and Protection

by Stillmatic

Rating: teen
Tags: Nightmare Moon, Original Character, Gilda, Adventure, Derpy Hooves, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Zecora, Human, Twilight Sparkle, Princess Luna, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 54707

A group of stalkers and scientists have arrived in Equestria to survey the workings of a new world.

'Have you heard about a new major expedition into the Zone? Technically, they're environmental researchers from the U.N., but that's just on paper. Sure, they've got a couple four-eyed scientists, but one look at all the others tells you they're seasoned fighters. Oh, and dig this; They're not using guides.' - Hog the Mercenary

The Tourist, a veteran stalker hired by the United Nations as an escort, finds himself working with the International Scientific Group, a collective ranging from hardened experts to frail researchers. After gaining clearance from the Ukrainian government for another expedition, the United Nations arms and readies their best field operators, the ISG.

Deployed into the Zone, these interlopers reach their destination, a large Space Bubble with an unknown exit. Quickly, the group enters the Bubble before a large emission and arrive within a forest, where they set up their mobile lab and temporary base of operations to make the best opportunity of an new anomalous area inside of what they assume to be Zone. However, as time passes and new encounters are made, it becomes more and more obvious that they aren't in the Disaster Zone anymore. Pressure begins to mount as the Zone's influence begins to leak into the forest, along with old dangers.

Without a doubt, the group as well as the Tourist will have to struggle to survive against the dangerous flora and fauna that sees fit to consume them. Of course, those become less attention-worthy once sentient, small horses come to investigate the stalkers and scientists, who are easily seen as a threat. The Zone is cruel, but new encounters can be crueler.

NOTE: This is a S.T.A.L.K.E.R. crossover that relies heavily on lore. The ISG faction was only mentioned, mostly cut from the series, but is still canon. Takes place roughly during the end of ShoC.

Published 2012-03-25 23:54:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-24 21:18:43 UTC

Prologue: The Tourist and The Encounter

Observation and Protection
Prologue: The Tourist and The Encounter
By: Stillmatic

Small, soft voices drifted through the head of the ex-stalker, nestling inside and whispering memories of adventures long since passed. His tired eyes closed as his nostrils took deep breaths of New York air and the cries of gulls outside and sounds of diplomacy inside the building clogged the air. As beautiful as the United Nations Headquarters was, it didn’t captivate him quite like the desolate and dark region that was the Ukrainian Zone of Alienation. The nearby East River held nothing to the murky waters of the Great Swamps, or even Lake Yantar.

He sighed, remembering how much his time in the Zone had changed him. Ask any veteran and they would tell you they felt the same as him; once you left the Zone, you always felt yourself wanting to return. It was a suicidal thought to any inexperienced rookie or outsider, but something about the Zone just changed who you were. It made you different. You wanted it and wanted to be there in it. Yes, the Exclusion Zone was a cruel and fickle woman that hypnotized men with the lust for fortune, power, and most importantly, riches. That was always the reason one would enter the most dangerous region on Earth, but as one spent more time, each became less and less important in the eyes of a stalker.

The stalker opened his eyes to find his small wish unfulfilled. He was still at the U.N. Headquarters in New York, waiting for his employer to return to his office and brief him on details for an upcoming mission. The stalker made an excellent addition, like quite a few others, to the U.N. Dignitary Protection Committee. The name was a formality for the most part, with only a few bureaucrats populating the committee. In reality, they were hired mercenaries ordered to protect certain groups or individuals who held high rank within the United Nations.

Many times had he escorted VIP’s and persons of interest through war-zones or treacherous areas. Time in the Zone prepared him for assassins, ambushes and surprises and he proved to be a valuable asset to the United Nations. In order to survive in the Zone, one needed to learn how everything from snorks to rats operated and thought. Observation of their tactics led to understanding the way they attacked, which was useful when trying to avoid any kind of confrontation, no matter the creature. Still, as crazy as it seemed, he missed the Zone.

The twisting of the nearby doorknob brought him back to reality, severing his reminiscing. A man clad in a business suit stepped inside and closed the door behind him, locking it. The stalker looked back, shook the hand presented to him, and sat down in the chair across the decorated desk from the other person. Silence filled the room for a few seconds until the official broke the silence.

“Chason, how are you?”

The stalker, one of the very rare “tourists” of the Zone, was originally an Israeli-born Russian turned artifact hunter. The decision to do so was brash and overzealous, but he effectively fit in without disclosing his true identity to the locals. The Zone was filled with people from all over Eastern Europe, but Russians and Ukrainians seemed to be the dominant people there. Nonetheless, his knowledge of the language allowed his easy assimilation, without raising any suspicion other than him noting to his fellow stalkers that he was simply from a Jewish community in Belarus. It worked better than he expected, and turned the prying eyes of others away from him. After all, tourists weren’t very well liked in the Zone.

Chason rubbed at his eyes and exhaled, “I’d like some sleep, but fine. Who do I need to watch after now?”

The official reached into his desk drawer and retrieved two shot glasses and a bottle of scotch, “You need to stop being to the point all the time. You have a few hours until you need to leave, but try relaxing for a moment or two.” He noticed Chason’s raised brow, “What?”

Chason nodded to the scotch.

The dignitary gave a look of realization to his employee and put away the scotch in favor of a bottle of vodka, “Of course,” he said in a somewhat irked manner, “how could I forget that this is all you drink?”

Shrugging, Chason responded by chuckling to himself, “I don’t have a taste for anything else anymore. You should know that, Oleg.”

A moment of stressed seriousness passed Oleg, “You aren’t in the Zone anymore. You don’t need to be so untrusting of our water.”

The stalker smiled very faintly, “Trust New York water? It’s probably more irradiated than the Swamps.”

“Have it your way,” Oleg responded, annoyed, “Now, the DPC needs you to assist a new expedition into the Exclusion Zone. We’ve lost contact with an ISG squad-“

Chason cut in, “Wait, you’ve got clearance from the Ukrainian government to send in the International Scientific Group? After the first one the U.N. funded during the-“

“Don’t bring it up; we don’t like to talk about that massacre…” Oleg poured himself a drink, frowning, “I still can’t believe how short-sighted and childish we were in just sending in those poor bastards to their deaths. Those guides that were hired ended them up at Rostok. Rostok for God’s sake! This was before it became a safe zone, when it was full of anomalies.” He clicked his tongue, “Dozens sent in, only a few came out. And now most of the survivors are institutionalized.”

Chason nodded, “I know, I’ve seen my fair share. Plenty of good stalkers die each day in the Zone, and it’s a miracle that people still want to go there.”

“These weren’t stalkers though, these were scientists sent in to observe the workings of the Zone. They didn’t have any experience that would have saved them, but that’s why we have the likes of you here to help us.” Oleg noticed Chason’s interested look, “Let me explain. You see, Delta Squad of the ISG troops were most likely wiped out at the Generators. We assume so because there’s no communication between us anymore. Now,” he pulled out a detailed map of the Zone and pointed to an area near the Red Forest, “They went to Generators from the Red Forest, at which point we lost contact with them. Our sources within the Zone mention that a massive blowout occurred-“

“And they were right at the Generators, leaving them helpless.”

“Exactly. They didn’t stand a chance. I advised the ISG to use a guide, but they didn’t seem to. Now they’re most likely dead, or worse, zombified or part of the Monolith.”

“The worst ways to go,” Chason sighed.

“Right, well, we’re sending in a better equipped team this time, working alongside some other scientists from other groups.”

Chason pointed a finger at his friend, “You know this is a suicide mission, right? There’s nothing to protect them from the blowout if it happens.”

“Let me finish,” Oleg stated, “We’ve… discovered something interesting at the Generators. You’ve had interactions with Space anomalies, I assume?” Chason nodded, “We’ve found a large one. Over quadruple the size of a normal one.”

The stalker blinked in surprise, “… That large? Where could something that enormous lead?”

Oleg sloshed his vodka before downing it, “That’s what we’re sending you and the other groups in to find out. At the Generators, at the center of the trenches and near the antennae is the anomaly. We’ll be sending in a mobile lab and enough supplies to last a few months. You and the Troops will protect the Scientists by any means necessary. Make sure that none of them suffer a fate worse than actually living in the Zone. You may recognize some of the Scientists, however. A few persons of interest that we’ve worked with before.”

Chason remained silent for a moment, thinking until he finally found his words, “Who are the Scientists we’re protecting?”

“Some are regulars that are purely there for research. A couple of them are members of Clear Sky that managed to survive the Great Blowout.”

The stalker’s eyes widened in shock, “Really? How did they do that? And who are they?”

“I only know the names of two. The first is the Docent to the late Professor Lebedev.”

The name sent some chills down Chason’s spine. The Zone was always a place of violence, but an all-out war was declared by Clear Sky against the Monolith only a few months back. The result was a massive storming of Limansk to the CNPP itself. It ended in disaster for the Clear Sky faction, nearly obliterating the population of it and leaving only a few members within the Great Swamps. Professor N. A. Lebedev led the attack, only to have himself inducted into the Monolith along with most of Clear Sky. It was truly a grim happening that was looked back with slight apprehension by some veterans of the Zone.

The stalker answered, “You’re talking about Suslov, aren’t you?”

“Correct. The other that I know of is an E. F. Kalancha.”

“Beanpolev, you mean?”

“… Beanpolev?” The official asked.

“It was his nickname from what I’ve heard from a friend. Nimble.”

He gave a satisfied look to Chason, “I’ve heard of that one. He has many contacts that could be useful. As I was saying, those are the two that I know of. But more importantly, all you need to know is that you must protect them with your life and at all costs. I don’t know where you might end up, but know this: If anything at all threatens you, you’re cleared to eliminate them without hesitation. Whether they are mutants, stalkers or Military, let no one stop you.”

“I understand,” the stalker said, “But I hope you know what we’re getting into.”

Oleg pushed the bottle of vodka towards his employee with a smirk, “I have full faith in your abilities. After all, who knows the Zone better than the likes of you? We don’t have many experts who are willing to work for us as of late.”

A smile curled on Chason’s face, “I don’t understand why. The United Nations pays quite well.”

The dignitary hummed in approval and stood up, “Yes, they do. Now, I realize you’re going to want to not use your real name Chason, so what are you going to use an alias?”

Chason stood as well, getting ready to leave and eager to return to the Zone, “The same as I’ve always used.”

“Hmm, ‘Tourist,’ was it?”

The veteran stalker nodded and shook Oleg’s hand, “Right. I’ll head over and get ready.”

“Stay safe, it would be a shame for the Zone to claim you,” Oleg said grimly.

“I’ll be fine. After all, you trust me, don’t you?”

One smirk later and Chason had left the room, oblivious to what was to come. A nagging pestered him in the back of his mind, but he simply brushed it off. Really, what was the worst that could happen to him in the Zone that hasn’t already occurred? Following the white hallways, he chuckled to himself, happy that he would be spending time within the Zone once again, this time legally.

A pegasus, weak in attitude but sweet in nature, flew carefully with a bag of birdseed in her mouth. It was another fine and shining day in Equestria, with animals of all sorts basking in the sunlight and enjoying their relatively simple lives. Ponies, however, were busy at work for the most part, doing as they regularly do daily. Fluttershy wasn’t an exception and her profession of caring for the animals and other creatures that resided near her cottage kept her busy throughout the day. Still, she enjoyed what she did every day and seeing the affection she received from all of her critters was payment enough.

Humming to herself, the pink-maned pegasus stopped suddenly midflight, something catching her eye near the edge of the nearby Everfree Forest. Taking a moment to look at what appeared to be an object, she noticed a distinct glint shining off of some surface on it. She tilted her head in confusion and examined the rest of it from afar. It was literally a fairly large and well put together mound of leaves, mud, and other sorts of debris. There were in fact some animals that do such things, but never quite like this. It remained there unmoving, just as she expected from a pile of various debris.

The hunched-over mound began to look odder and odder the more she looked at it. Towards the bottom, a protrusion that connected to the floor for balance’s sake stuck out and stabilized the odd construction, reaching roughly less than half the height of it. Two similar ones were made on opposite sides of the main body of the pile that ran forward and met at the object that shined from the front. Whatever was stuck there, it seemed to be an object that used some sort of glass. A mossy lump sat atop the hunch, with reeds and other long leaves coming down from it, hiding something underneath from the meek pegasus.

Fluttershy simply assumed it was an intricate bird’s nest that one of her fine, feathered friends made. They were quite adept at making proper structures for themselves but this seemed far too well-made and simply out of place to have been made by any sort of bird she knew. Curious, she slowly flew towards the object and landed gently on the grass. Her head tilted in confusion as to what it truly was, egging her to get just a little closer. Eventually, she was right up to it, her puzzled demeanor overriding her normally mild nature.

Very lightly, the pegasus tapped the mound, finding it fairly sound and solid. It didn’t react in the slightly to her prodding and she simply mentally shrugged at it. Surely it was nothing to get worked up about. That is, until it stood up right in front of her and turned around. Her face fell along with her heart, instantly frightened for her life as what she thought was a pile of leaves reached over twice her height. The shiny object was stowed under the leaves and it quickly moved away from her, taking quick glances back to make sure she wasn’t following.

Fluttershy was fidgeting uncontrollably on the ground, pressed up against it to look as small and unappetizing as possible to what could have been a potential predator. Yet, the debris-monster simply jogged away until it was out of sight, leaving her to her thoughts as she quickly lifted her bag of birdseed in her mouth and made an erratic flight back to her cottage, hiding herself away. The encounter left her scared, but something seemed wrong with that. It obviously showed no signs of animosity or provocation towards her and it only moved away from her when she obviously got too close its personal comfort zone.

She sighed, berating herself, ‘Oh, I’m such a bad friend… I scared that poor creature away by being too bold with it…’

Despite unknowingly being wrong, she was upset at herself for being what she thought was uninhibited with confronting an unknown creature and frightening it enough that it ran away from her. Fluttershy had completely forgotten whether or not it could have attacked her.

She turned to Angel who had just woken up from a nap and glanced briefly out the window towards the forest, “I-I h-hope it’s all right out t-there…”

Deep within the woods however, a Freedomer was laughing heartily at the encounter, somewhat amused at how quick the pegasus was to shrink under his large stature. He reached onto his belt and opened a container carefully, being sure not to drop the precious content within. The stalker lifted out a Flash artifact and stowed it away in his backpack underneath his makeshift ghillie suit, making extra sure that it was secured within a pocket large enough for it. It may have only weighed half kilogram, but it was worth much more to the right buyer.

He chuckled to himself and began to continue his search for a Space anomaly to take him back to the Zone instead of this incredibly odd place full of such different life. His only hope was that no other stalkers or even mutants would arrive here, in order to prevent the Zone’s corruption from coming as well. Leaning against a tree to rest, the Freedomer pulled out a piece of bread, lifted the camo-veil from his face, and began to think his current situation over some suspicious food.

A bad feeling resonated in the back of his head, alerting him that something would definitely go wrong in the future. Without a doubt, he knew something was up ever since arriving in this place and nearly losing his life a few times. Finished with his bread, he downed some vodka and placed it within his pack before continuing to look for a Space anomaly. The stalker was at peace for a few moments, enjoying his brief vacation from the Zone in such an odd land. Then again, he’d spent years in the Zone and even this place didn’t seem that far-fetched as it would have before he gained his Zone experience. Such is how the Zone changed people, and such is the way he thought.

Author's Notes
Well, I said I'd do this one day and here it is, a STALKER and FiM crossover. I'd just like to state a few things about the story now, while I can.
First, this occurs roughly around the end of Shadow of Chernobyl, in transition between Summer and Fall.
Second, the International Scientific Group was a faction that was meant to be shown in the opening cutscenes of Clear Sky, but were cut. They are still mentioned and by that, I consider them canon to the STALKER universe.
Third, before anyone complains about ghillie suits in STALKER, the leaked STALKER 2 concept art featured a Freedomer dressed in a suit similar to the one I described. The object was the second most handy tool in the Zone, a pair of binoculars.
Fourth, this story will definitely rely on the lore from the STALKER universe and maybe even some non-canon things from certain mods (will mostly stick with canon though). If anything doesn't make sense, PM me or leave a comment or something.
Lastly, I hope I can make this into a pretty decent crossover fic and remain true to both sides.

Guess that's it, hope you enjoyed it.

Chapter 1: Not A Drop Left, Until A Visit

Observation and Protection
Chapter 1: Not A Drop Left, Until A Visit
By: Stillmatic

"It's hard to say, really. His vitals are perfectly fine, but the readings indicate that his nervous system has suffered extreme and extensive damage. He has survived an emission, yet gains various superhuman abilities because of it? Increased strength, much higher stamina, keener senses and much quicker reactions times. These stalkers, this Merc, why are they the ones being so wildly affected by the Zone? Does it not make sense for them to simply die from what they've been subjected to? Instead they become 'marked'? We know better than this, we created this! Yet look at him! Still alive despite the enormous amount of energy the Zone injected into him... No matter, the young man has no choice in his situation. He'll help us either way, once we inform him that the stalker is the source of the emissions. And with more emissions comes his inevitable zombification. God help us if this continues to be the cycle of the Zone." - E.F. Kalancha.

Princess Celestia reclined tiredly on her bed, ready to finally reach the bliss that sleep provided for somepony as tired as her. The events of the day took its toll on her, leaving her both physically and mentally fatigued. The nobles were acting as childish as ever, the military commanders were blathering on about certain relations between nations, and even her sister had a few complaints that needed to be addressed. Only her precious citizens that she loved dearly were the ones with true problems that needed guidance and her acknowledgment. A few, specifically from Canterlot, each brought the same problem that persisted for the past two days.

There was a knock at the door, prompting a sigh from the sun goddess.

A voice managed to make its way through the heavy wooden door, “Your Majesty, I’d like to speak to you in regards to that certain predicament that’s been presented recently.”

She felt her mane droop just a tiny bit, whether it was from hearing more dark news or having to continue her work, “One moment,” the Princess called out.

The large, immaculately alabaster alicorn turned herself over and stepped off of the even larger bed. She took a deep breath, keeping it as quiet as possible, before using her magic to open the door and greet one of her Generals. General White Mark, a normally gruff and together stallion, bowed and stepped inside the room, obviously troubled and paler than usual, despite his already colorless fur. The alicorn saw through his disguise that he kept in order to maintain his dignity, but she didn’t let it become known.

“General, what can you tell me about the investigation?”

He nodded, a grim and pallid look crossing his face, “The guards did as you requested and have searched the sewers of Canterlot. We’ve come upon…” his eyes averted away from hers, “the bodies of those that were recently kidnapped.”

Princess Celestia felt her heart sink, drilling its way downwards and resting at the pit of her stomach, “H-How? Who? Who could have done this?”

White Mark sighed, “That, Your Highness, we haven’t solved as of yet. We’re currently running tests on the bodies and finding what could have killed them, as well as-“

“What indications were there that they were murdered?” The Princess interrupted, “Marks, scratches, anything at all that could give us something to work from?”

The General began to look uneasy, “Whatever it was that slayed our citizens, it was vicious, but conservative in its tactics. It must have been quite stealthy to kidnap full-grown ponies and bring them to the sewers.”

She hummed to herself for a moment, mulling over his words, “What exactly do you mean by ‘it,’ General? Are you implying it was not of Equine origin?”

The Princess just barely noticed a slight shiver resonating within his stature, “We believe that it was neither Equine, nor any other race in or outside of Equestria. The tendencies and mode of operation that we’ve observed from what evidence we can piece together indicates that this was some creature with an intellect, but more so dominated by its own lust for killing.”
“But what of Griffons, or Diamond Dogs? Both can be just clever enough to do such things, in my experience.”

“There have been no reports of either residing in Canterlot for likely years, Your Highness. The investigators are almost certain that it was a creature who could maintain stealth, quietness, and predatory instinct in a populated environment, something that’s quite rare throughout the world.”

Sighing, Princess Celestia lowered her head down, realizing they came to a dead end for the time being, “In that case, it couldn’t be a Manticore or Cerberus that managed to somehow sneak into the city through the waterways.” Her eyes reached back up towards her opposite, “What did you find there? Among and on the bodies?”

General White Mark nodded, “The creature did not hurt anypony until it carried its victims back to the sewers; that we are sure of.”

The Princess thought for a moment, turning her head away and scowled, “Cunning… quiet… vicious… Anything else of importance?”

He continued, “It didn’t spill a single drop of blood.”

Celestia turned back to the General, “None? At all? How have they died then? Surely it would have eaten-“ She shuddered at the word, “the victims, wouldn’t it?”

“Eaten,” White Mark began, “Isn’t exactly the word we would use in these cases, Your Majesty.” Her confused look prompted him to continue, “They were dry, Ma’am. Not a single drop of blood was dropped, yet nearly none was left in the bodies. Whatever this creature was, it sucked almost all of the blood from each of the victims’ bodies, leaving husks to rot.”

Princess Celestia paled, suddenly feeling faint at the idea of some horrible monster attacking her sweet, beloved ponies and draining them of their life. She battled to maintain her composure, and eventually won out, only to be rewarded by dizziness. Shaking her head, the Princess looked down at the General and frowned.

“Please, if anything comes up, tell me.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” White Mark said, “… But what of the families of the victims? Shall we inform them?”

Princess Celestia sighed, knowing what she had to do, “No, I’ll be the one to do it. After all, I’m expected to make sure their lives are in constant safety and breaching that trust makes me liable for what happened.”

“I don’t believe that’s true, with all due respect, Your Majesty.” The General puffed up his chest, “That is our job as Royal Guards, and we shall catch whatever creature is terrorizing the citizens we protect.”

She smiled warmly at him, “Thank you General, you’re free to go.”

He nodded before exiting, but was nearly trampled by Princess Luna, who suddenly rushed in, panting heavily and sweating. A look of surprise struck both original occupants of the room, but they allowed the Night Princess to gather her composure.

“Luna, what’s the meaning of this?” Celestia said with a slightly motherly tone.

“I-I had a dream! *huff* O-Of a m-monster! *huff* It w-was in the sewers, *huff* running quickly f-from something!”

Princess Celestia gave a knowing look to White Mark, who stepped towards the darker Princess and asked the most important question, “Your Highness, do you possibly know where you might have seen it?”

Both knew that Princess Luna was capable of having “premonitions” during her sleeping throughout the day, but they were usually quite negligible. Of course, this time, it was far from it and held the key to solving their current serial-murder problem.

Calming down fully now, Princess Luna pulled herself together and stared at the General with dead eyes, “Underneath Mauve-Mane Avenue, past the sewers and in the waterways beneath there. It was bleeding, dying possibly. Something was chasing it and not giving up in the least. I-“ she shuddered, “saw the monster approach a young mare I didn’t recognize. It was going to feast on her for nourishment.” Her eyes began to water, signifying her more emotional outlook, “Please, you must get there before anypony else is hurt!”

The stallion stood tall and nodded, “Of course, Your Majesty! We will capture this creature before it can do more harm!” He motioned to gallop out the room but stopped short, “Should I alert all guards to be on the lookout for any more kidnappings?”

Celestia nodded, and pulled Luna in for a hug, letting her neck absorb the tears that fell on it. White Mark left, giving the two their moment in each other’s comfort. The door closed behind him and he found himself heading to the courtyard, where he would round up his subordinates and have them send messages to other guards. The stallion growled, wanting nothing more than to annihilate the creature that would kill innocents or make even one of the Princesses cry. Little did he know that his job of hunting the monster was already being taken care of, by an unlikely visitor.

The mare, a cross-eyed one, scrambled and galloped fruitlessly across the stone pathways running along the sides of the Canterlot sewers. She attempted to fly away, but her wings were injured, bleeding and leaking the crimson substance in a trail. Had she known she would end up in this situation, she would have never decided to cover for a friend in the massive city as a mailmare. Tears ran down her face, with the memories of her filly being the only thing keeping her running from the predator that swiped her. Her dull, blonde mane flowed behind her, catching the air well. As it turned out, the pristine hair proved to be her downfall as whatever was chasing her grabbed it and tugged back, nearly ripping the follicles out of their roots.

She screamed out in pain and reeled back. Setting her hooves firmly back on the stone floor, she attempted to buck behind her, only for them to hit air and drop her to the floor from her miss. The mix of pain and pure fear was evident on her tear-stained, disheveled face. Crying was no longer enough, and she openly sobbed at her soon to be demise as the creature lifted her up by under her forelegs. She attempted to use her wings to block the creature away, but it simply clawed at her once, tearing through muscles, veins, and tendons.

Her eyes widened. It was that sound again! The snapping! She hung her head, knowing that the creature was preparing itself to devour her. The elongated, inward-spiked tendrils reached around her neck and latched on. The pegasus screamed out in pain as the teeth sunk into her neck, nestling themselves in and injecting a mix of anti-coagulant and morphine-like liquids. The pain died down to a numb feeling and her body soon turned limp. Her eyes remained lucid, completely aware of what was happening to her.

At that moment, she felt it. Her blood, her life-force, her very own liquid-soul, was being drained from her feverishly and dangerously fast. Sounds of the skin belonging to the creature mending, with miniature pieces of metal being ejected from within its body, could be heard clearly. The mare knew what it was doing. It was healing itself by consuming her blood. Consciousness began to fade quickly and soon she was left nearly dead. But then, she heard something. Something she had heard before that had scared the creature that was attacking her, something so beautiful and soft that it rung clearly through her ears despite the massive blood loss.

The mailmare felt the impacts against the body of the monster, the screams of agony and more importantly, its dying gasps. The incredibly strong grip around her neck was released, dropping her to the floor deprived of massive amounts of blood. It was quite obvious that she wasn’t going to survive the ordeal and more memories of her daughter flooded her mind. At least the sight of the creature falling next to her, still alive and snapping its tendrils at her, gave her some satisfaction and eased her mind. The glowing ocular orbs stared into her soul, hinting at an intelligence shrouded by a severe hatred towards other living things.

She wasn’t able to properly shiver from the look before she saw something, some kind of large metallic foot, plant itself on the chest of the creature, snapping ribs and forcing a scream from it. Her eyes widened in shock as what she recognized as a hand (from her encounter with a young dragon) grasped the neck of the monster, easily strangling it and holding it in place for whatever reason. Then, it spoke. Not the monster, but whatever it was that had saved her. The voice sent chills down her spine as it spoke as if preaching. It was monotone, but there was definitely a hint of fanaticism hidden beneath it.

Before she was able to see what happened, she blacked out from blood loss.

He stared at the bloodsucker within his grasp, the weight of his exoskeleton easily keeping it down for a kill. Their eyes met and he could see the fear within the ones that stared back at him. It was normal. No mutant, or human for that matter, dare cross him for fear of their lives being in danger. Its predatory glint washed away under his calculating eyes, clearly already on the verge of death soon. He took a deep breath, lowered his head, and clasped his hands together.

“Oh Holy Crystal, I cannot hear your wisdom… Your sweet guidance is deaf to my ears and I fear I may have angered you to receive such a punishment… One of Your children has strayed from the flock and taken to slaughtering those You choose not to hold Your Holiness over… By Your decree, I shall take its life, so it may pass on to Your Glorious Heavens and live with its own… I thank You, Infallible Monolith, for this rite You have vested and bestowed upon me as Your Voice, as Your Medium… I shall not fail Your Design and will continue to hunt those that have taken blood from the innocent. Please… Holy Crystal, hear my pleas…”

He exhaled and set his eyes back on the bloodsucker he kept his foot on. Taking his knife, he slit the throat of the mutant, returning the blood it stole back to the earth and ending its life. Using the serrated edge as a saw, the mysterious visitor severed the bloodsucker’s head from its neck and lifted it up in admiration. It soon found its place as a trophy on his belt, where barbed wire was tied to it in order to keep it in place. As the last step in the ritual, he wiped the blood from the knife onto the victim and sheathed it.

The interloper removed himself from the carcass of the bloodsucker and kneeled before the wounded pegasus, taking in its features.

“You are so silent, Your Holiness… Shall I save this innocent? Is it mandated and ordained that I am to do so? Or am I to merely prevent Your offspring from slaying them?” Hearing nothing in response, he reached into his belt and retrieved his most precious artifact, “Shall this Soul provide the sustenance to this child so it may live..?” No other sounds other than the running water from the waterways were heard, “I understand. I truly understand what You are doing for me. I thank You for the opportunity to exhibit my worth and the test You are putting me through. I will not fail, no matter the circumstances.”

With that, he pressed the Soul to the mare, letting it work its magic on the body. He knew full well that as soon as she recovered, she would need to eat some sort of food. Any artifact that increased bodily functions consumed energy en masse, leaving it deprived of nutrients if not properly fed on time. She would starve if she didn’t receive sustenance after the Soul healed her. The visitor sat back, still amazed at how the Zone and Monolith birthed such an awe-inspiring creation. It mended broken strands of muscle, recreated blood, and healed all wounds within only a mere few minutes. It was miracle, without a doubt. Once the process was finished, he stowed the artifact back on his belt and began to walk away, at least, until a groaning from behind forced him to turn back to the mare.

The pegasus lied on her side, barely conscious, “W-Who… are you..?”

His mind came up blank at how a small creature, non-human, was speaking English. It quickly came back to speed as he recalled that some mutants were capable of such things and one really shouldn’t question how the Zone worked with its children. Then again, this wasn’t one of the Zone’s children. Being the Voice of the Monolith, he knew a multitude of languages, with English happening to be one of them. He thanked the Monolith for bestowing the knowledge of the language, clearly connecting his ability to speak it as a sign that he was doing as the Monolith wanted him to.

The mare met his eyes and he spoke with levelness, “A Voice among many, one who speaks for the Glorious Crystal.” She seemed extremely surprised by the fact he could speak “Equine”, “I know of your blasphemous deity, but I shall not purge your life from this world for being ignorant of the One.”

He turned to walk away again, but stopped as the weak voice called out to him again, “W-Wait! P-Please, wait!” The human turned back around patiently, “Y-Your name! What’s y-your name?”

Without a single drop of emotion, the massive man answered, “Charon.”

The mailmare smiled weakly, extending a hoof out from the ground, “D-Derpy…”

She could see it took him a moment to realize it was meant as a hoofshake, which he promptly conducted after kneeling down to her level (after all, as a representative of the Monolith, manners were a must. At least, with non-humans it was). Obviously knowing that this creature had saved her, she felt an immense sense of gratitude towards it. That thought was immediately replaced by fear once she saw another one of those monsters silently creep behind it, ready to attack.

It was said in times of extreme stress, a pony will experience a slow-down in time, something that allowed for better thought, strength, and speed. Of course, she wasn’t able to move as of yet, but it happened nonetheless. The pegasus watched as the large creature moved in one swift motion, using its knife and twisting to its right to embed the blade within the skull of the bloodsucking monster. It fell on its side dead, red liquid spurting awkwardly from a fresh hole within its head. She watched as her savior removed the cranium and jaw from its shoulders, then strapping the head to its waist. The sight was sickening, but she didn’t make it known it made her so. Still, passing out from seeing it didn’t quite send the right message either.

The Monolithian turned back to the female pony and lifted its limp body upon its broad shoulders. It was still breathing, a good sign of its health. Beginning to walk to his temporary hideout, Charon, the Highest Priest of the Monolith, kept his eyes open for any more mutants.

His eyes shifted to the mare, “The Monolith demands I prevent lives lost, and so it shall be. The kin of the children still stalk these paths and safety is far too much a rarity.”

He nodded, coming to the conclusion that he would protect the creature until it was able to head back to the surface. Normally, he would leave anything, even his own subordinates, to perish should they be dying in front of him. But there was something wrong. Terribly wrong.

Memories began to poke holes through his head ever so slightly. They weren’t clear, but a message was desperately trying to be conveyed. He ignored it, considering it to be his own greed disarming his resolve towards serving the Monolith. One word rang out clearly though, one that sent shivers down his back.

Him! The most fearless human to have ever walked the Zone, having his thoughts disrupted by a single word? In his brainwashed mind, it was a sheer moment of pure blasphemy.

But that word still resonated from the recesses of his mind. It whispered seductively and didn’t let up, repeating itself over and over. Just once, he allowed himself to clearly hear it. It frightened the man who felt no fear since becoming one with the Monolith, and scarred his mind once again, causing it to falter heavily.

“Merc.”

Chapter 2: Echoes of the Zone

Observation and Protection
Chapter 2: Echoes of the Zone
By: Stillmatic

“A Space Bubble, brother, is one of the shittiest shits to ever grace the Zone.” – Leshiy from the Freedom Faction

White Mark inspected the body, taking in as much as he could about that creature. It was a hideous brown color, with rough and hard flesh covering its body. Whatever it was, it most likely stood on two legs and used its long, opposable upper appendages to swipe and claw at victims. He’d never seen anything like it, and it sent shivers down his spine. The odd body shape along with the even odder pattern to its body color was distinctly uncommon. All of this pointed to the theory that it wasn’t off this world.

While the General had never actually studied into the realm of other-worldly travel and the different implications of such magical sciences, he always assumed that Earth had been an isolated planet among an innumerable amount of stars and galaxies. Could there possibly be interlopers? Visitors? Trespassers? From a different planet, no less? The thought left him confounded, wanting to tip back a stiff drink in order to remedy it. Of course, he’d have to wait until his shift was over for the day until then.

The Forensics Team was making progress into the investigation and he turned away from the carcass of the creature. He couldn’t stand the sight of such an abomination taking lives without any sort of restraint. One thing about it, however, was the lack of heads atop their necks. What were they killed by that would cut off their heads? Also, what were those holes within their bodies? He was soon going to find out.

White Mark trotted to Violet Light, a female, purplish unicorn with a navy mane and tail. Acting as the lead forensics field scientist, Violet Light was the crux in deciding certain matters of certain “scenes” the public usually never saw. The mare hummed idly to herself, mulling over her day and what she was looking at. White Mark watched respectfully as she used her dark-blue magic to point a light at a puncture wound on the body of one of the creatures. It showed what was within, revealing a small, metallic object that shattered and lodged itself not too far in.

“What do you make of it?” White Mark asked, startling the mare.

She jabbed him playfully while he chuckled and responded with a sly smile, “Well, I’d say it was killed via miniature projectiles that entered the body, ruptured organs, muscle tissue, and initiated heavy internal bleeding.”

“Projectiles?” He asked, “As in arrows?”

Violet Light shook her head, “No, something else. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Made of metal…” She covered her muzzle in magic and held the original aura to the metal object, sniffing, “And… gunpowder? Hmm…”

The mare began to take notes, easily forgetting the high-ranking military official near her. The General accidentally (supposedly) scared her again by clearing his throat. He smiled at her innate meekness, and grinned as she tried to play it off well. Running a hoof through her mane, Violet Light gave an awkward smile.

“There’s some other stuff I can tell you, if you like.”

“The Princesses would appreciate what information they could get.”

Using her horn, the unicorn pointed to the corpse, “You see, I found a mix of pony, specifically pegasus, and some other type of blood mixed together inside of the body. That, and a load of different chemicals I’ll have to analyze for later.”

“Anything else of importance?”

A grin stretched across her face, “Well, there is one thing that may be of interest to you…”

“And that is?”

She got close to his ear, letting her breath hit it. His eyes widened as Violet Light whispered into his ear, speaking things he hadn’t heard of in more than a few years. White Mark tried swallowing but found his throat had gone dry. She finished and stepped back, smiling coyly at the stallion. His cheeks were flushed red, indicating that he definitely reacted to her words.

Violet Light got close to his face and spoke low, “Well? How does that sound?”

The General blinked and as much as he commanded his legs to run, they wouldn’t. When nothing of his body responded and all that came out were stutters, the mare gave him a light peck on the cheek and giggled. Attempting to regain his composure, White Mark cleared his throat.

“Ahem, well, I’d like that very much, but I don’t think we should be discussing such things while on the job.”

She turned, purposely hitting his face with the tip of her tail in the process, “Aww, you’re no fun. At least, not yet,” Violet Light said, turning her head back, “Pick me up at eight?”

He nodded, realizing that he had no choice in the situation. Not that he wouldn’t pick the choice he was given anyway. She giggled once more and went back to her colleagues, leaving the tough general a nervous stallion.

‘Should I report this to the Princesses as well..?’

Slumber was something rare for stalkers, and any chance to receive it was a blessing in itself. Stories of mutants attacking in the middle of the night or phantoms haunting dreams were always reason enough to not sleep much in the Zone, especially when there were ones that involved hearts rupturing from the nightmares that the Zone gave off somehow. Some safe areas allowed for peaceful sleep however, and many stalkers took advantage of that. Still, anyone who wasn’t a rookie knew to sleep with one eye open, always ready to defend oneself from anything.

The Tourist forced himself awake, the whirring of multiple helicopter blades providing a somewhat soothing hum that entranced him. It wasn’t incredibly dark within the Mil Mi-6, but reasonably enough for him to get some shut-eye. The Hook was an uncommon sight in the Zone, but this stalker had his fair share of run-ins with the it, usually ending in it simply flying above him. Avoidance was still the best route, unless you happened to have the rubles to shell out for some kind of weaponry to shoot one down and a reason to do so, or just a death wish. He sighed, feeling tried again once he remembered who he was guarding on this mission.

Four of the six scientists weren’t just foreign, but completely oblivious to the Zone’s inner workings. Chason was essentially the buffer between groups, where the Slavic stalkers (who worked for the ISG) and two scientists sat on his left, and the foreigners (both scientists and a few troops) on his right. It was an odd mix and both sides seemed to keep to themselves at all times, most likely for the better. The two Clear Sky members conversed with each other like old pals while the ISG Troops either ate or made mild conversation to pass the time. Across from the Tourist was his pseudo-partner who he usually worked alongside, Violinist.

The man was less chatty than the rest, but Violinist proved to be an excellent and reliable stalker that knew the Zone well enough to be contracted by the United Nations. He did in fact have a twin brother in the Zone running under the name Pianist that worked for the Mercenaries, but Chason never actually met him. When Violinist noticed Tourist’s staring, he gave him a nod and small smile. Anything larger would have been a true anomaly in the Zone.

The ISG troops were negligible and Tourist didn’t truly care about their names or motives. Each wore their camouflaged suits at all times, whether they were Sunrise or SEVA Suits. Ironically, their camo-pattern was perverted by the Monolith, who chose to switch the light-pink of ISG to a darker brown. Nonetheless, the group never seemed to run into problems, with the Delta Team being the only exception.

Following the supposed deaths of the former group, Echo Team was quickly assembled and given strict orders to perform research on the last team’s objective. The Space Bubble, one of interest as of late, was in the far distance, floating high above the ground. It was their mission to go through it and study what was apparently a sub-dimension of the Zone. It took quite a lot of money, but the ISG managed to procure a Compass artifact for finding their way out of the anomaly, should it be necessary. Of course, only a few of the members actually knew how to properly use an artifact, with Chason being one of them.

The Tourist yawned and stretched his arms out, warming them up. Looking to his right, he spotted the foreigners going over calculations or some other type of research he didn’t understand. The main problem was that each spoke English fluently, but were legitimately horrible when it came to Russian, the Zone’s main language despite location. None realized it was practically customary to use an alias in the Zone either. It was quite odd to see just who exactly the United Nations decided to send.

There was one named Jacob –Wexler, was it?-, a pasty looking male with glasses as thin as himself. Chason knew nothing about him other than he was from some big-wig university over in the United States and that he was chosen from a good many geneticists to participate in the Zone. Most of his actions were jerky and without proper coordination, a tell-tale sign of a rookie. He expected nothing else, as it turned out, from the short man. The red hair atop his head wasn’t much to look at, but Chason found himself admiring its curliness for some odd reason.

Moving on, Chason noticed a large man rifling through a PDA and taking notes next to Jacob. He knew quite a bit more about this dark, well-muscled human being as he studied more of his features. Despite his skin being ebony, Chason immediately knew his origin from simply his voice; Thabo Okaidy, the lead biologist of the mission, was from South-Africa. His demeanor was quiet and relaxed, but his large frame emphasized a sense of toughness and pride that simply emanated from the man easily. Chason stowed away a reminder not to anger the man who could probably wipe the floor with him like a mop.

Chason’s eyes drifted upon another man, this one of a medium, tall build. English, supposedly. Funny, he never personally met one before, despite working for the U.N.. His accent was… intriguing, to say the least. It wasn’t anything like Chason expected, what with him never hearing an English accent before. This “Edgar Vicks” was far too open for his tastes, especially when it came to the lack of mild language he presented to conversations. He sighed, knowing he’d have to get used to the more straight-forward man for this mission that would most likely last months, if not well over that time period.

Last but not least was the truest anomaly to have ever occurred in the Zone, something so indescribably rare and unheard of, that it made Chason feel slightly awkward. This anomaly was Claramond Diederich, an Austrian woman hailing from steep slopes and pure prodigy. From what he had heard, she attended some university where she received degrees in… Was it Physics? Or maybe Chemistry? He recalled she had a multitude and was fairly knowledgeable in all matters earthly or otherwise. It clicked in his mind- Innsbruck, that was where she went! Quite impressive, but a bad decision to have her here in his mind.

There was a reason women never became part of the population in the Zone, mostly attributing to how male stalkers react around women after not being exposed to them in possibly years. Not only that, but her less muscly structure wouldn’t hold up well against mutants or have the same endurance as anyone else. Then again, she was the chief scientist of this operation and as such, would be spending most of her time analyzing and doing work inside of the mobile lab. He doubted she would even see the sun much in the time she was here. Still though, why would the U.N. send such a gifted and intelligent person in the Zone of all places? It was practically a death sentence for the eggheads, yet here they were, allowed to let themselves assimilate to the Zone’s ways.

The Tourist shook his head, wanting nothing more than to just stand guard and watch the Zone work. He didn’t have a degree like the scientists, but he knew for a fact he knew more than them about the Zone. Something about just observing it, watching it and being a part of it, could teach you without directness or words. It was its own professor, guiding others and whispering secrets here and there, letting knowledge slip through cracks and down towards the men that it chose to bestow it upon without any sort of predictability or pattern. It drove those foreigners wild at the thought that such a place could exist in the universe, yet, he had lived in it for years at this point. They could never understand what it meant to be one with the Zone, or maybe not without giving up a part of themselves in the process.

Trying to shake off his pessimistic thoughts, Chason looked to his left towards the last two scientists. Not exactly legends, but famous nonetheless. It was a miracle they were both still alive and they wore that miracle as symbol of injured pride. That symbol was their outfits. They still wore their Clear Sky suits, becoming living ghosts among the passengers within the Hook. Despite the tragic loss their pride as the most secretive faction had taken, they remained there, ever present to remind stalkers that the Zone couldn’t claim everything it desired.

Docent Suslov was a true friend to anyone who came to him, always assisting others in times of need. His always wide-open eyes and cloth-covered lower face pushed some stalkers away due to being intimidated, but the man never attacked others without serious provocation. Friendly faces were a common sight at the Clear Sky base, as Chason recalled, and this one was no different. Of course, he seriously doubted the highly intelligent Docent would even remember who he was, let alone want to speak with him.

Lastly, there was Professor Kalancha, Clear Sky’s “walking calculator and encyclopedia in one” who desired nothing more than to research the Zone and find a way to prevent its growth. “Growth” was the word worth noting, hinting at his want to continue to have the Zone exist, but without it spreading like a cancer. Chason had to agree with that, the Zone was getting far too large in his opinion. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if it ever spread past Ukraine and into the world. Kalancha most likely thought the same thing and kept hidden vast amounts of information about the Zone in its entirety. A living goldmine that had devoted his life to helping mankind through the Zone. Truly amazing men Chason was in the company of.

The olive-green vests and blue-white camouflage suits were physical flashbacks of Chason’s early life in the Zone, where he had nearly died in the Swamps looking for a so-called “mystery” faction. In reality, it had been Clear Sky, who kept to themselves and fought desperately against the Renegades who sought to loot their base of operations. But they saved Chason and for that, he helped them. They inducted him for a short time until he decided to leave, spending the time with them as a squad commander. He began to remember now, who he had in turn saved from the Swamps only two weeks after his own near-death experience.

Mercenary Scar. The name still resounded within his head. He was in the Zone longer than Chason and stirred the Clear Sky faction up quite a bit. His natural prowess and skill conjured a sense of morale among the ranks, helping them push back and utterly cripple the Renegades in less than two days. Two days was quite a feat, especially seeing as how Scar was already suffering from Emission Exposure Syndrome, something that Kalancha and Lebedev coined after Chason brought him to their cabin.

The Tourist pulled out his PDA, remembering that there was a bit of information he hadn’t read that had something to do with the missing stalker. His thumbs pressed on the “Diary” section, where he found the file he was looking for under “Interviews.” The stalker began to read, taking in whatever tidbit presented itself.

-An Interview with Leshiy, a Mercenary turned Freedomer-

I opened my notepad and sat down across from the veteran, ready to take anything he said down on paper. He snorted in amusement at the sight but pulled off his hood and gasmask nonetheless. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting someone with such red hair to be a stalker. From the pictures I’ve seen of the Red Forest, I could tell there was an odd… resemblance. Ignoring that, I asked the first question.

“How did you become a stalker?”

He shifted in his seat, obviously getting comfortable for a long conversation, “Well, I came from the Big Land-“

“Big Land?”

“Russia.”

“Ah. Continue.”

“As I was saying, I came from there, then came here during my more ‘rebellious phase’, you know?” I could see the focus draining from his eyes, “I was… an idealist. I thought I could help any and everyone. But now…” It should be noted that Leshiy sighed heavily at this point, “I can’t help but be so cynical. Such a realist! I mean, at this point, I even think if you died in the Zone, you weren’t even fit enough to walk in it in the first place!”

Intrigued, I asked another question, “What made you this way?”

He raised his head towards me, “It was back a while ago, before the last Great Emission. When I was a Mercenary working under Hog.”

“Hog? The very same that now runs his own PMC?”

Leshiy nodded, “Yeah, and he deserves it too. Best boss I ever had. Cared a hella lot about us. Anyway, what happened was we were given the job to find this artifact, a Bubble. Drains rads from you like nobody’s business. See, we ended up talking a wrong turn through the Red Forest, and one thing led to another…”

“Could you elaborate?”

“Have you ever heard of a ‘Space Bubble’ before?” I shook my head, “A Space Bubble, brother, is one of the shittiest shits to ever grace the Zone. We got stuck in one and for almost two days- TWO DAYS- we walked around in circles, always seeing a small village on the horizon but never getting there!”

This was simply astonishing, especially seeing as though I would be one of the first to report on such a construct of this infernal place. Truly, was it possible for space and time to be bent and perverted in such a way? It didn’t matter; all I needed to do was get as much information as possible.

“So what happened?”

“Well, Hog was pretty worried, started asking random stalkers for help. He did want the artifact, but in the end, he saw us as more valuable. I mean, who’s going to hunt those artifacts if all of your men are stuck in another sub-dimension?”

“Sub-dimension?”

“The Space Anomaly creates a sub-dimension that works like…” he thought for a moment, “to put it as a friend said it, like a Mobius Ring. Never ending, always returning to the same point of origin, brother. Scary stuff.”

I quickly scribbled down what he said, “Amazing…”

He shrugged, “It’s just another bastard of the Zone. So after nearly two days, Hog comes across this one fellow who just came out of the Red Forest unscathed.” He shook his head, chuckling, “Guy actually made a deal with our boss. Said if he helped me and my team out of the Bubble, we’d help him take the bridge to Limansk from a gang of Renegades.”

“I’ve heard of that group. Who are they?”

“A bunch of low-life, conniving shitheads, that’s who.”

Good thing he didn’t notice my startled look, “C-Continue.”

“It happened. Somehow, that son of a bitch managed to go find Forester, return to him his Compass, and then get the coordinates from the artifact for the Bubble’s exit.”

“Could you explain what the Compass is? And who this Forester is?”

“Forester is the original park ranger of the Red Forest, from even before the First Disaster.”

“He’s stayed here that long?”

It seemed incredibly odd that anyone would willingly live their life here.

“The old man never wanted to leave. He had this artifact, called Compass. It was an amazing thing, could lead you through anomaly fields if you knew how to work it. Been years since anyone’s found one. Anyway, you wouldn’t believe what the guy did after that, just to free us.”

“What was it he did?”

Leshiy grinned deviously, “He took over the Army Warehouses, with over a dozen of those goons still there, armed to the teeth.”

He noticed my expression and laughed, while I simply sat there and asked, “This stalker attacked the Military? Isn’t that illegal?”

I was left irked when Leshiy began to openly laugh in my face, tears streaming down from how hilarious he seemed to find it. Were these even people anymore? They didn’t care about killing others or slaughtering the wildlife(and I used that term loosely). He eventually calmed down enough to rip a hunk off a piece of bread with his teeth and wash it down with vodka. It must be the vodka.

He continued, “In the Zone, nothing is illegal as long as you’re willing to deal with the consequences and backlash. Anyway, he and Kostyan’s assault force stormed the shit out the Warehouses, took it for Freedom, and then transmitted the coordinates to us from outside the Bubble. After heading in a specific direction, we managed to actually get free, and this is the weird part, right above the tunnel that led to Limansk.” Leshiy gave a throaty chortle, reminiscing, obviously.

“Then what?” I asked, waiting for him to continue.

“Then we fought off swarms of those scumbags as they came through. On the other side of the bridge were the folks from Clear Sky and the guy from earlier.” For a few moments, Leshiy went silent, a humble look across his face, “… It was amazing… Not one of my men died that day and because of him.”

I couldn’t help but try to prod deeper, “Who’s ‘him’?”

“… He was… Scar, Mercenary Scar. That day, each of us knew that we were fighting alongside a true legend of the Zone. He was a real sharpshooter, you see, and he had this Vintar that could blow the head off of a bloodsucker. Let’s just say he did real well in holding back the Renegades, so well that none of our guys died.”

I really couldn’t imagine someone was so well-trained with their weapon that they could tackle scores of other armed men without giving them a chance to even fire back. Just who was this Mercenary?

“So after you managed to lower the bridge, what happened?”

“Well, I sent three of my boys to deliver the artifact to Hog while the rest of us went and helped Clear Sky take down that stalker.”

“Stalker? Why were they after a single stalker?”

Leshiy scowled, “Because that single stalker is the one who fucked up the Zone! They called him Strelok and because of him, Scar was dying a slow death!” He sucked his teeth while shaking his head, “Let me explain Scar’s situation: He’s marked by the Zone in a way that emissions don’t kill him but make him just a bit stronger, all right? But every time a blowout happens, even if he’s hiding, his nerves weaken. You get where I’m going with this?”

“So this Mercenary would be nerve-dead eventually?”

“Worse. He’d be zombified.”

I raised my eyes from my pad to look at Leshiy, “Excuse me?”

He glared at me, “He’d end up a zombie. A walking shell that can shoot. They can’t think for shit, but they’re a serious problem.”

“So what did this one stalker have to do with the Mercenary and his death?”

“I never said he was dead. But this Strelok guy kept sneaking where he shouldn’t have been. He and his team would make raids past the Brainscorcher, all the way into Pripyat.”

From what I’ve heard, he was talking about an impossible feat that no one had ever successfully attempted before. But this group somehow managed to do it multiple times? I find that quite hard to believe.

“What does them sneaking in have to do with the Mercenary though?”

“Emissions occur when you get closer and closer to the CNPP.” Oh yes, the famed Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, something of a legend among stalkers apparently, “These guys got really nice and close, so the emissions came regularly because of that. And each emission brought Scar closer to zombification.”

“What happened in the end?”

“We took the Dead City over completely, wiping out all of the Renegades and Monolithians. There were some Dutyers and Freedomers that dropped by to investigate, you know, lone squads. Clear Sky split up to take down this one guy called Fang while the other group and Scar pushed straight through the Hospital and to the CNPP. I was there when they killed Fang. Put a few rounds in his back so he couldn’t get away, then they openly executed him for his crimes. When we went to find the body later, it was gone. Anyway, do you know who Dushman is?”

“Dutchman? As in the Flying Dutchman?”

“No, Dushman. He was the leader of a large Mercenary company. They took over Limansk afterwards and closed it off from everyone, with the exception of a few friendly Bandits. I didn’t want to work under him, so I walked with those Freedom boys and joined up with them.”

“As interesting as that is,” I said, getting somewhat bothered by his storytelling, “what of the Mercenary and that faction?”

Leshiy lowered his head, a somber mood passing over inside the room as he sighed, “I don’t really know… I know for a fact that Scar took down a Military strike helicopter by himself, but that’s about it.”

I nearly did a double-take, “Wait, wait, wait. He shot down a helicopter without any help? How?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. He did a lot of things by himself that most stalkers don’t know are true. I believe it though. You had to have fought alongside him to really understand what kind of guy he was. Sucks that him and most of Clear Sky were lost in the emission after stopping Strelok.”

“So they actually managed to do it,” I mumbled, “What kind of man was this Mercenary?”

Leshiy crossed his arms in thought, “Well… A good guy. Never really killed anyone unless they shot first or they were hurting someone he was helping. That’s what he did a lot. Help people. Even Bandits, on occasion. In fact, if it wasn’t for him, Father Valerian would never have been able to bring the Loners together, Duty would never have been able to cut down the mutant populations, Freedom would have been killed off by Mercenaries, Bandits would still have slaves, Renegades would still be a functioning faction, and me and my boys would’ve been dead inside of a Space Bubble.” He smiled at seemingly nothing in particular, “I got to admit, Scar was a true champ. Always doing the right thing no matter what. In the Red Forest, when he was chasing Strelok and a group of Loners ambushed him, he spared the last few. For what reason, I don’t know, but I gotta respect him for it.”

“Sounds like you really liked him,” I mused.

A look of offense was now plastered on Leshiy’s face, “Whatcha mean by that, brother? What’re you trying to say?”

I raised my hands, trying to look as least threatening as possible so this man wouldn’t shoot me in the head, “I-I just mean that you and him seemed to be pretty good friends! That’s it!”

The stalker definitely didn’t seem to like me, but I thought he confided in me for a moment, “Eh, what do I care? I’ll admit it, I had a thing for him back then. There was just something about him…”

I was beginning to feel uncomfortable once I heard that, “O-Oh, yeah, that’s n-nice.” I cleared my throat awkwardly, “Didn’t think you felt that way, or anyone else here for that matter.”

Leshiy shrugged, a habit obviously, “Hey, I don’t care how others swing. Hell, I remember hearing about this one stalker who saw this flesh and-“

I cut him off, “Please, no more. I don’t think people want to be reading about that.”

He eyed me for a few seconds longer before settling back down, shaking his head, “Damn, the Zone always has to claim the better ones.” He still seemed upset about Scar and the Freedomer sighed, “Well, that’s all there is to this story. Go. Go and turn the horror that’s our lives here into your ticket to fame. That’s how it always is. People come here to interview, never come back.”

With that, Leshiy stood up and exited the room, leaving me alone, or at least I thought I was. I heard a belch and some murmuring nearby. Turning my head, I spotted the one they called “Chef”. He seemed to be drunk out of his mind. Not one to turn down an opportunity for a good scoop, I stepped up to him, ready to hand over a bottle of vodka as some sort of rudimentary payment. Of course, I didn’t know what I was getting into at the time…

“Delta Team, prepare for arrival and Bubble intrusion.”

The Tourist blinked, realizing he had been so caught up in reading that time flew by faster than he thought. The sound of more helicopters passing nearby, cutting through the air loudly, made him stand up and peer out the window, getting the attention of other occupants. Chason spotted over half a dozen assault Hinds heading towards the CNPP, along with the same number of BTR-70’s rolling through the plains, none hitting any anomalies along the way. He was left speechless and in awe at the sight. His respect for the Military skyrocketed at that moment, making him somewhat proud to say he saw their massive attack on the Power Plant.

“I never thought I’d see the day…”

Violinist glanced out the window for a moment, “I hope they kill off every one of those fanatics. Maybe then I could get to the Wish Granter.”

Those last two words cut everyone else short with their words, bringing an eerie silence inside the transport. No one truly knew what was in the confines of the Sarcophagus, other than some mysterious crystal that granted wishes to any stalker willing to risk their lives to reach it. The lack of talking ended once they hit a rough spot, forcing the Hook to shake. A displeased grunt came from Edgar Vicks, who promptly shut his laptop in frustration.

“These pilots are disgustingly horrible at doing their job! A monkey without its brain could fly better!”

Violinist snapped his fingers to get Vicks’ attention, something the scientist didn’t appreciate, “You should be happy you’re even here. Most people have their brains fried by now. You’re lucky someone turned off the Scorcher or we’d have to take a load of psy-block to counteract it.”

“Listen mate, I realize a simpleton like you wouldn’t be able to survive that kind of energy passing through that hollow thing you call a skull, but someone as intelligent as me wouldn’t be affected.”

Both the stalkers looked at each other and smirked knowingly.

Chason chuckled, “Yeah, that’s what Doctor Thompson said.”

“Doctor Who?”

“Thompson. He’s a zombie at Yantar now, having other zombies bring him rare artifacts that he experiments on.”

Vicks crossed his arms, “Load a’ crock, is what I say. These ‘zombies’ don’t exhibit any form of regular thought that isn’t completely primitive.”

“So you two have that in common, then?” Violinist asked with a small smile.

Vicks glared at him, ready to insult him again. Of course, he wasn’t able to do so when a shaking overtook the helicopter. Everyone held onto their seats with the exception of the veteran stalkers. They seemed to be oddly calm and relaxed as usual during their down time. A blinding flash occurred, disorientating anyone who wasn’t using some sort of cover for their eyes, such as the pilots. There was a moment of weightlessness, followed quickly by gravity shoving everyone downwards again.

The rays of light died down, letting everyone see what was happening once more. Chason rubbed forehead, a headache already starting to set in. Suddenly, there was chatter from the pilots over the radio.

“Ничего себе. Я никогда не видел ничего подобного… Мы все еще в зоне?” (“Wow, I've never seen anything like this before… Are we still in the Zone?”)

“Это ... так ярко, не так ли? Солнце светит, как я никогда раньше не видели.” (“It's... so bright, isn't it? The sun is shining like I've never seen before.”)

The foreigners didn’t quite understand what the pilots were saying due to their lack of knowledge in regards to the Russian language, but both Chason and Violinist heard clearly. They rushed to the cockpit, holding their hands against the pilot seats for stability. What they saw was spectacular, a sky view of a beautiful landscape that showed no restrain to captivate the stalkers and pilots. It became a picture-perfect moment, drenched in a serene peace that just sprang forth from what they saw before them. The pilot on the left finished gawking and pointed a finger towards an area in the forest they were above.

“Очистка ниже, вероятно, лучшее место для нас созданы мобильные лаборатории.” (“The clearing below is probably the best spot for us to set up the mobile lab.”)

“Ну ладно, мы идем ниже, подготовиться к посадке. Разве вы оба сесть до сих пор?” (“Alright then, we're heading lower, prepare for landing. Would you two sit down until then?”)

Both stalkers nodded, with Chason patting the left pilot on the shoulder as they left. It was starting to look up for the group as they descended down back to Earth. They sat back in their seats and stared at each other for a while, neither speaking but all of the scientists (the ISG Troops still seemed to not really care of the situation) watching them.

Violinist spoke up, “Where exactly did that Space Bubble take us?”

“Somewhere colorful, bright, and really green. It isn’t Misery, I’ll tell you that much.”

Both of them laughed at the inside joke, with no eavesdropper picking up the punch line. Still, wherever they were, it didn’t quite look like the Zone. The Zone was decrepit and desolate region that held no warmth or noticeable life, let alone green life. It was a nice change of scenery from the gray skies and rainy weather, something both of them could appreciate. But now that they were here, what would happen?

“Chason?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t feel the Zone anymore.”

“… Neither do I.”

“Wait and see?”

“Only thing we can do, for now at least.”

“Alright then. Let’s get the equipment ready for when we have to place it inside the lab. Agreed?”

Chason stretched his legs, “Yeah, I want to get set up as quick as possible before we run into anything.”

“Damn, and we’re going to have to set up the fence too.” Violinist mentioned, “I hope the weather stays good, I’d rather not do any of this in the mud.”

“Same here.”

Someone clearing their throat nearby caught their attention, bringing their eyes to the female scientist, “Hello, I have a quick question, if you don’t mind.”

Both stalkers tried hard not to admire her features, keeping the situation as business-like as possible. Then again, the blonde hair, green eyes, and perfect skin would have enraptured any stalker. Truly an anomaly.

Violinist nodded, “What’s the question?”

She brought out her notebook and pencil, “Well, I’ve heard that some mutated species residing within the Zone exhibit special properties through use of psionic fields that they naturally generate, but I’ve yet to actually hear of a specific one that isn’t humanoid in nature. Would either of you know of any?”

Chason immediately knew of such a mutant, “The Chernobyl Dog, or Psy-Dog in some circles.”

Her eyes lit up, fascinated at chance to gather more information to report back to the United Nations, “Oh? And what exactly can these Dogs do?”

“Essentially, they’re pseudo-dogs with psionic abilities such as creating phantom versions of itself through concentrated energy.”

Claramond scribbled that down, “Ah, and they use these fake copies to trick prey?”

Violinist shared a look with Chason before speaking, “Fake? The Phantasms generated by a Psy-Dog are capable of tearing a stalker to shreds if he doesn’t disable them.”

She looked up from her pad, confused, “Wait, I thought you said that these illusions were just phantoms that passed through objects?”

Chason shook his head, “I’m afraid not. They’re actual copies of the psy-dog physically manifested from its own energy, and they’re able to attack just like any other dog. From what’s believed, they derive their abilities from the Phantasm mutant.”

“Phantasm? As in the same it makes?”

“Actually, no, this itself is a mutant that resides within the Northern parts of the Great Swamps. None have been seen in quite a while however, maybe years.”

The scientist smiled, “You seem to know quite a bit about the Zone, don’t you?”

He returned the gesture, “I’ve been here for a while now, since before all of this, back when there were no special suits or medicine to help you out.” Chason’s voice turned solemn, “We lost a lot of brothers back then, when all we had were the basics and those ancient anomaly detectors.” His mood brightened slightly, “We’ve come a long way, and things have gotten better through trial and error.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because if it hadn’t, we’d have a lot less artifacts to study.”

Chason chuckled, “Good to see they eventually get somewhere that matters.”

“Yes, well, we try our best to study the artifacts to understand their properties and how we can make them more practical towards science.” Claramond sighed, “Funny, though, we still can’t understand how to make transmutes yet, no matter how much research we pour into it.”

At this, Kalancha and Suslov’s heads each lifted, catching the word “transmute.”

It was the taller, more bean-pole shaped man who asked the question on both their minds, “Excuse me, young lady, but what do you know of transmutes?”

She seemed surprised that he spoke English, let alone to her, “Er… Not much, really. I’ve heard it’s possible to meld Zone substances together to generate an artifact, but we’ve yet to actually make one in laboratory conditions.”

Suslov pulled the cloth from his face, exposing it, “That is because transmutes require specific amounts of psionic energy that only the Zone can provide in specific areas. Over the course of our research, we’ve been able to create one type of transmute that does not automatically degenerate into a defunct state.”

“D-Do you happen to have this transmute?” Claramond asked, doing her best to hide her eagerness, “I’d like to personally see one, if possible.”

Kalancha and Suslov began whispering amongst one another, sharing information and asking questions as to decide whether or not to allow the foreigner to see something worth its weight in gold. After some debating and prodding from Suslov’s side, it was agreed that they’d provide the fellow scientist with the transmute for observation.

Professor Kalancha looked slightly distrusting but reached for his belt regardless, “Young lady, I do hope you can handle being under the direct effects of an artifact, a transmute no less.”

He opened his belt and retrieved the object in question, holding it towards the other scientist. The artifact was just like any Shell-based “Dummy” artifact in terms of size and shape, yet the color-scheme hinted at a Pellicles composition, glowing a faint, sickly green color in the helicopter. All eyes (including those of the ISG Troops) turned towards the artifact, each fixated heavily upon it. Claramond touched it, then grabbed it to hold in her hands. A chill ran down her body, one that sent an odd feeling through her as if her composition was being remade. Her skin felt more… resilient to harshness. It wasn’t as if was harder, just more together and less penetrable.

“I-It feels a-astounding! What is it made of?”

Suslov pointed to the transmute, “A Pellicle for the chemical resistant properties and a Wrenched for a balancing agent. It’s been exposed to light amounts of psionic energy, and as such, exhibits roughly just a bit better chemical resistance than a Pellicle. No other effects have been noted as of yet.”

The South-African scientist, Okaidy, stood and kneeled by the artifact, watching it with sheer amazement, “Quite exemplary, but I assume that it doesn’t differ much from the stronger host-artifact?”

Kalancha nodded, “Yes, unfortunately. Of course, it is one of the first known transmutes and due to being so, is a massive step forward in our research. These transmutes, however, don’t seem to degenerate once created, leaving them as permanent artifacts to be used.”

Okaidy opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Violinist, “Professor, have you tried activating it?”

Both Clear Sky members froze up, obviously surprised by such a question. They shared a few words amongst one another for half a minute before Suslov turned to speak.

“It would be counter-productive to activate a transmute that we’ve created, especially when we’re just scraping the surface of possibility. What kind of anomaly it would generate is unknown, and frankly, I would rather not find out.”

Vicks whistled to get Kalancha’s attention, “What does ‘activating an artifact’ mean?”

“It means you control the artifact and revert it back to an anomalous state. Depending on the tier of the artifact, the anomaly made by it varies in strength. Activating a Moonlight would most likely lead to a huge Electro or Tesla anomaly, whereas a Sparkler would generate a smaller one.”

“Hmm,” the Englishman responded, satisfied with the answer.

The helicopter shook, indicating that it had landed and dropped off the mobile lab. Violinist, Chason, and the ISG troops gathered the equipment and began to tote it off the helicopter as they disembarked in a new land. The air was surprising crisp, further adding to their doubts that they were in the Zone. Regardless, Echo Team began to prepare themselves for the future, taking measures to protect their lab and researchers. Little did they know that it would inevitably do little good to stifle the world around them.

General White Mark shuddered, completely unnerved by what he had seen, but more so nervous for what was to come later that night.

‘That creature… It wasn’t of this world, was it? What could it possibly be?’

He shook his head, attempted to restore his composure before entering the quarters of the Princesses. His little conversation with Violet Light left him shaken, in a positive manner. He could only imagine what tonight would be like for him and the mare.

Knocking his dull-grey hoof against the hard wood, he waited patiently until it opened for him. The General stepped inside, shut his eyes, and bowed, showing as much respect towards his Princesses as possible.

“There’s no need for such things, General. Please, tell us of the investigation.”

The melodic voice that spoke to him connected to Princess Celestia, who was cradling a sleeping Princess Luna in her hooves. He blushed, realizing he walked in on a close, personal moment. Clearing his throat, the stallion nodded and spoke softly as to not wake the Night Princess.

“Your Majesty, we’ve discovered the murderers in the waterways beneath the city.”

“’Murderers?’ As in more than one?”

“Yes, Your Highness. We’ve found the bodies of two together on a pathway under Mauve-Mane Avenue.”

Celestia looked down at her sister and mumbled, “So… she was right then…”

“Princess, there’s more.”

“Go on then, General, don’t hold in any details.”

“The creatures were in turn murdered as well.” The General began, “And were decapitated somewhere around the upper neck.”

The Princess stopped, staring at the floor, “De-Decapitated? By what? Nopony would ever do such a heinous and depraved act!”

“We aren’t sure as of yet, however, after testing blood samples, we’ve come to a conclusion.”

“And that is?”

“Something or somepony is hunting the creatures, killing them easily.”

“And…” Celestia thought, putting a hoof to her chin, “How exactly do we know that it isn’t the creature that murdered the original ones that is slaying our citizens?”

“As I’ve said, Your Majesty, we’ve tested the blood in the creatures and found it to be that of a pony’s. The creatures seemed to suck the blood through unknown means and use it as sustenance for themselves. Something slit their throats and carried away the victim before they had died.”

“Just what are we dealing with…” Celestia asked herself, frightened at the thought there were murderers rampant, with them attacking each other and killing her own ponies. “General, return to me as soon as new information presents itself. For now, conduct an autopsy on the slain creatures and find out how it managed to sneak through the city so well.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

With that settled, the General exited the room, closing the door behind him. The older Princess kept a tight grip around her younger sister, silently watching her in her sleep. The enormous amount of worry she felt kept creeping within her thoughts, plaguing and infesting them. She blinked her tired eyes and leaned back, ready to fall asleep.

Celestia gave a light peck to Luna’s forehead and whispered, “… What are you dreaming about?”

She wished, at that moment, that the suffering would end. Unfortunately, it hadn’t even begun.

Author's Notes

There you go, second real chapter and a decently sized longer one to boot.

Transmutes, because I know this will confuse people, are non-canon and are from a mod called OGSE (Old Good Stalker Evolution). I thought they fit in so well to the actual game that I'd include them here. Don't hate on me and this story because it isn't canon though, please.

I referenced a mod here that is infamous for its "realism" and "brownness". It's for CoP, which is the only hint I'm going to give.

Now, I wanted to include foreigners in the Zone for a number of reason, mainly because their reactions to the shit you'd see there would be hilarious. A female in the Zone is a bit different, mainly because it was never even said that women had ever entered the Zone. It's normally a joke to say that they're the only true anomalies in the Zone. (Little tidbit, there's an unused .gif in Shadow of Chernobyl of a female posterior. Don't ask about it though.)

To clarify, Operation Fairway is underway as they enter the Bubble. It's obvious in how it ultimately ends.

The interview with Leshiy was written by me, but inspired by someone else who wrote interviews about a reporter asking questions to various characters in the Zone. As far as I know, Leshiy isn't gay, but I honestly don't think it matters that much and thought it would be a funny nod to the previous joke of desperate males within the Zone.

Also, I've updated the story picture to include the title of the fic. Took a while to find the font though.

Well, I supposed that's about it for now. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, leave a comment, thumbs up etc..

Chapter 3: A Stranger Approaches

Observation and Protection
Chapter 3: A Stranger Approaches
By: Stillmatic

“Strange things occur in the Zone. Strange happenings that defy explanation. No, not anomalies or artifacts… I’m talking about ‘other’ things. Like… ‘him’… or the Cartographer… We see all that other stuff as normal, but then there’s that! Why does the Zone twist and deform objects and people so much? Maybe we should ask those boys up at Yantar a thing or two about this stuff, maybe find some answers… What? No! Go to hell, I’m not scared. Idiots. Come on, we have to go that lab for our job anyways, might as well stop by to find out.” – A Mercenary on the discussion of Zone workings

“God damn! These fences, man! They just don’t ever end, do they?”

“Quiet, we’re almost done for God’s sake! Come on, push.”

Violinist did as he was told and pressed his hands against the large, metal fence. It was grueling yet necessary task for the protection of the mobile lab and the scientists within. Of course, it could hold up against an onslaught of punishment from any direction and was easily repairable, but that came at the cost of an extremely tedious set-up process that left Chason, Violinist, and several ISG Troops exhausted.

Chason used a hooked rope attached to the wires atop the fence to pull the fence towards him, where they would connect and link it to the rest of the large fencing. Violinist heaved and shoved himself forward, propelling the hunk of metal perfectly in place. Chason stabilized and connected it to the last piece they set up before removing the hook from above.

The process repeated itself several times until they were finally finished. The ISG Troops that assisted the two stalkers walked over to a few logs and sat down, ready to finally relax after the less than enjoyable task. Chason walked over to the gate and pulled it backwards, connecting and locking it with the gate next to it in order to effectively cut the outside world off from them. Making sure to keep the key safe, the Tourist put it in the breast pocket of his suit and caught his breath.

“Tired already?”

He raised his head to see Vicks leaning against the mobile lab, taking notes down among other things. Not in the mood for any trivial conversation with such a rude man, Chason began to walk towards Violinist. That is, until Vicks began speaking anyway.

“You know, it’s rude to walk away from a conversation without at least speaking back. Can’t say it’s your fault though, what with you being born in a part of the world like this.”

Chason simply grunted, not bothering to give the irony of that statement any other thought. The tan gasmask that sat on his head was peeled off and tossed into his pack, where it bumped lazily against a pair of artifacts, some ammo, sparse medical supplies, bits of food, Cossacks Vodka, and an energy drink. Walking away again, the Tourist met Violinist by a log and sat across from him, ready to finally sit down after hours of work.

“Excuse me! Um, you two! Could you come here for a moment?”

Both men shared looks and groaned simultaneously. Getting up, they headed to the voice, which belonged to a certain female scientist peeking her head out of the lab and using her hand to beckon over them. Despite their aching muscles, the stalkers smiled regardless and went to listen to whatever it is she wanted.

“Anything you need?” Chason asked.

“Actually, yes. We need to do an inventory check but I’m a bit busy with studying that transmute from earlier. Would you two be able to do it for now? I’m sorry to put you guys on the spot like this, but-“

Violinist put a hand out, signaling for her to stop, “It’s fine, we’ll take care of it.”

Claramond actually seemed surprised at how he willingly accepted, “Oh! Well, thank you! Do you two need the keycard for the inventory?” Both men lifted their own cards as she said that, “I see you two already have your own. Thank you again, I’ll leave you two to it.”

“It’s nothing, Professor Diederich,” Chason said with a smile.

She smirked, “You don’t have to be so formal, you know. Please, call me Clara.”

“Alright then, Professor Clara,” said Violinist.

“Seems like living in the Zone hasn’t stifled your humor, has it?” Clara smiled, showing off her pearl teeth.

“Suppose it hasn’t.” The Tourist agreed, “Well, we better take care of the inventory before nightfall. Who knows what might creep out when it hits that point.”

The professor nodded and returned inside the mobile lab, entering the airlock and shutting the door behind her. Both men waited for the hissing before moving on towards the nearby inventory. In reality, the inventory was a large shack made of the same material as the fence that was roughly twenty meters away from the lab. What was inside was most likely weaponry, detectors, lab equipment, gadgets, various suits, and other provisions that were necessary when dealing with extended stays within the Zone. Chason sighed, knowing this was going to take quite a bit.

“… Okay, so eight ISG Standard SEVA Suits, twelve ISG Standard Sunrise Suits…” Chason looked up from the clipboard and pointed the eraser of his pencil at different piles, counting what he saw. “Ten Sig’s… Another ten TRs’… Five GP37’s…” He recounted quickly, “Yeah, that’s about it.” Chason stepped out of his end of the inventory and leaned towards Violinist’s, “Hey! You done yet?” There was no response for a few moments, with the sounds of objects moving and falling being the only evidence Violinist was still alive, “What the hell’s wrong?”

Violinist leaned back enough for his upper body to be seen, “Man, you got to see this! Come check this out, now!”

Chason smirked, expecting his friend to have found a glowing sausage or some other type of oddity not worth becoming riled up about. Of course, when he turned the corner, that thought immediately flew out the metaphorical window and was replaced by a gasp, a low jaw, and eyes fixated on what was in front of him.

“… Good god… What is that?”

Violinist pulled a clipboard to his face, eyes scanning left to right as he read, “’The CYSTA Hazardous Environment Exoskeleton (CYSTA HEE) is the leap forward in exoskeleton evolution. Note: A CYSTA Personal Exoskeletal Suit (CYSTA PES) is required to be worn by the user in order to use the CYSTA HEE to its proper effectiveness. While the CYSTA HEE is capable of providing help as a construction tool, among other things, it can also function as a weapon should it become necessary in the Zone’s dangerous environment. The primary use of the HEE is to be used in constructing the fencing surrounding the mobile… lab…”

Violinist looked up from the clipboard to meet Chason’s eyes. Both felt the exact same emotion at that very moment. Not only were they angry that they had wasted hours just to set up the fences, but now there was a massive exoskeleton capable of making that job easier from the beginning. The Tourist used his boot to kick the large exoskeleton, doing nothing to chip its bright, lemon paint.

He looked up at it, scanning it with his eyes. It stood roughly a bit over one and a half times his size, sitting down on the ground, that is. Thick plates of yellow-colored metal covered the massive exoskeleton, with fat hydraulic tubes and large servo motors running up and down the legs, arms, and connecting at the main body. The chest seemed to open as a hatch, holding in the wearer when they used the appropriate suit designed to work with the construction exoskeleton. A seemingly more than necessary amount of controls lied inside, putting the stalkers off a bit. Nonetheless, it was quite a marvel, if not one that came all too late. What could they possibly need it for now that its sole job was already taken care of through human labor?

“Well, nothing we can do now. You get everything taken down?”

Violinist nodded, “Yes, and everything’s there. Even this,” He pulled a bottle of vodka from off a nearby crate, “French.”
Chason shuddered, “No thanks, I’d rather not.”

“Same here.”

Violinist placed the bottle back on the crate as they made their way out of the storage and back towards the mobile lab. Chason opened the door without a second thought and stepped inside, ready to hand over the clipboards while his partner waited outside. While he’d been inside of the Yantar mobile lab quite a few times before, he’d never actually been into the deeper, more restricted parts that yielded unknown contents and scientific equipment. When Professor Diederich wasn’t present at the main window, Chason assumed he’d have to enter the actual laboratory.

The former stalker looked left and right, finding no signs of the other scientists, with the exception of Vicks, who was outside, and Okaidy, who was sleeping rather loudly in a bunk nearby. That still left four other scientists unaccounted for. He grunted and opened the door to the gut of the lab, cringing when the door shrieked horribly as he pulled back. He stepped inside and closed it behind him, only to find four sets of eyes staring at him.

It soon became very awkward, especially so when Professor Diederich walked up to him and smiled before grabbing the clipboards. He nodded and made his way to exit before a voice called out to him.

“Excuse me, young man, would you wait a moment?”

Chason turned to find Professor Kalancha stepping towards him, a curious look on his face.

“Yes?”

“Have we met before? You seem quite familiar and I usually remember all of the faces I see…” The professor said, drifting off in his words towards the end.

The Tourist nodded, “I was part of your faction for a few weeks, prior to the ‘Incident.’ I ran a squad of three and helped route out the Renegades.”

The professor’s face lit up at that, the memories of that time flooding back to him, “Ah, yes! I recall it now; you brought in the Mercenary, correct?” His face turned slightly solemn, “It was a shame that those fellow scientists he was escorting were subjected to that massive emission.”

“The Zone does not discriminate, Professor. It’s good to know that you’ve managed to survive against it, despite what’s happened.”

“Yes, we were quite lucky. Come, young man, let us speak inside of the laboratory.”

Chason nodded and followed Kalancha back into the room, this time without all eyes on him. Both Wexler and Diederich were studying the transmute, not making serious contact with the Clear Sky members. It wasn’t a matter of social awkwardness or separation of cultures, but more so the foreigners being intimidated by the two survivors of the Zone who knew so much more than they did. Anyone would become less confident if they were in the presence of two highly intelligent men. Ironically, both Kalancha and Suslov simply assumed they weren’t well liked by the foreigners, with being avoided by them a result of that.

As he stepped in, he noticed Suslov sitting by a table, observing a tea kettle propped up atop a metal frame. Both Chason and Kalancha watched as Suslov placed a Droplets artifact underneath it, positioning the “eye” of it directly upwards and against the bottom of the metal kettle. In mere moments, the tea was already boiling, steam pouring out of the top almost immediately.

The stalker held back a snicker, “I see you’re doing your part in the scientific pursuit of anomalous tea.”

Suslov turned back and smirked, “A visitor? Come, have some tea. The herbs will help relax you after setting up that fence.”
“No thanks,” Chason started as he pulled out his vodka, “That’s what this is for.”

Kalancha’s brow furrowed at the sight while Suslov laughed, garnering the attention of the other two scientists who weren’t expecting such a thing from the reclusive man.

Suslov stood up and stretched before turning to the two other scientists, “Would either of you like tea?”

They both nodded and Suslov got to work, pouring the beverage into cups. Chason, however, stood up to leave.

“I have to do my rounds and relieve the others soon. It’s going to get dark, so make sure you all stay safe.”

He nodded to the Clear Sky members and heard someone else speak as he left, “U-um, uh, sorry, but uh, could you… Possibly, you know, um, sorry, make that to go, uh maybe? If it’s, um, not t-too much trouble? I sort of, um, need a-a break. And stuff. Sorry.”

The Tourist gave a very light snort as he left, amused by how Wexler spoke. The stuttering and constant “ums” and “uhs” were rare in the Zone, making it a fresh encounter for him. He stepped through the airlock, let the air purification process take place, and then promptly stepped out of the lab. Taking a breath of fresh air, the stalker headed over to the campfire some of his colleagues were situated around. There was less than half a dozen left that weren’t in their bunks, sleeping away the night. Violinist, Vicks, and two ISG Troops sat around on logs, making small talk to pass the time. For a moment, a heavy nostalgia set in, making the stalker feel at peace.

White Mark, dressed in the formal attire that represented his rank, walked alongside Violet Light, who wore a fine, mauve dress. He glanced at her, trying desperately not to ogle her with his eyes who so desperately wanted to peek. Something about the way she tied her navy mane back, the way she flaunted her exquisite dress and stepped with flair left him near breathless. It was quite an odd situation to be in, what with him expecting to never be in a relationship so long as he served the Princesses. Nonetheless, he enjoyed himself throughout the dinner, the talking, and other formalities that were customary on a first date.

They were heading down the many streets of Canterlot, with very few ponies passing them this late in the night. White Mark was left in wonderment at how he’d spent six hours with the forensics scientist, the time reaching somewhere around two in the morning. Both were fairly tired, but the General’s rigid training prevented him from fully showing it. Instead, his posture was straight and regal. Violet Light took advantage of this and slanted towards him as she walked, resting herself against his white coat. Of course, this left his heart racing, due to him never having been prepared for such interactions with the opposite gender.

“So, how was dinner?” He asked, trying to hide his nervousness.

“Mmm, amazing. I knew Canterlot had nice places, but that was too nice. You really didn’t have to take me there; it must have been so expensive!” She said, a slight shiver to her voice from the chilly night.

The General picked up on this, however, and removed his suit’s jacket from his body. Without a word, he draped it over her and smiled all while continuing to walk.

“I work one of the highest-ranking jobs under the Princesses, I’m sure I can afford to take you out to a nice place. Besides, I think a mare like yourself deserves it.”

Not realizing what he had just said, he was caught off guard by a kiss to the cheek by Violet Light. White Mark cursed himself for having such immaculately colorless fur, which easily let his blush be seen by the mare giggling at his reaction.

“Oh, a charmer?” She stopped and stood in his path, getting close to his face, “Am I in the big, strong hooves of a gentlecolt?”

“I-uh-wel-“

The mare nuzzled his cheek, touched by his words, “Shh…”

His body froze up for a moment before it slowly melted down to a more relaxed state. The stallion let out a deep breath and felt oddly at peace when she did that. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before and set a new feeling within his mind. White Mark returned the nuzzling, trying hard not to enforce his normally tough demeanor.

Violet Light was left mentally surprised when he did so, making her cheeks flush from the action. She didn’t think a stallion like him would directly show affection, let alone in public. Then again… she cracked open her right eye, looking around the streets. They were alone. The mare could feel her heart beating quicker when she noticed the General loosen up from his macho disguise of masculinity.

Unfortunately, the lovely moment between the two ponies was short lived. Out of seemingly nowhere, a brown foot rammed itself in the side of White Mark’s head, stunning him and knocking both of them a few feet back and on the stone streets. His vision went wild along with his ears, but the sound of a screaming mare forced all of it back into perspective. The warrior’s senses kicked in and he unfurled his wings.

Flying now, White Mark’s eyes locked onto another abomination grabbing Violet Light and turning invisible. He was surprised it could do such a thing, but immediately flew after it, using the fact that Violet still being visible and held as a guide. The legs of the creature carried it quickly down alleys, toppling trashcans and other rubbish in its path. The General kept up, just nearly getting to it before it took a sharp turn and plummeted into an open stallion-hole towards the sewers and waterways.

White Mark kept in pursuit, not stopping for even a moment. The fear that the monster would hurt Violet Light was more than enough to motivate the stallion to continue following. After a minute of travelling through the sewers, both parties took a dip towards the lower waterways, which led out of the city through vast crevices beneath. However, those waterways were far beneath the current ones, and would take hours to reach.

Eventually, the creature stopped in a circular area, its hands muffling Violet’s screams for help. The room was massive, with tunnels in every direction. Water poured from higher up, falling into drains and crashing against the hard, stone floor with thick booms. White Mark took a stance on the ground, kicking up water with his front right hoof. Bent shapes within the light nearby, however, put dread in his mind.

Chastising himself for being so foalish, the General realized he’d walked into a trap. The creatures turned visible again, this time with two more surrounding him, forming a triangle of sorts. He could just feel the smug faces (he couldn’t really understand how to read their faces, though) directed at him. Catwalks above rattled, catching the attention of the creatures. White Mark paid it no mind, assuming it was another one coming to help.

What the General didn’t expect was for an explosion to occur above him, blowing chunks of stone and concrete off the ceiling and deafening his ears. He winced, feeling pain and ringing within them. Distracted, White Mark barely had enough time to see the rubble fall on top of the creature holding Violet, crushing them beneath it. He felt his heart stop, frozen in horror at what he just saw.

Then, like lighting, an enormous creature that rivaled the others in height crashed down on the floor, splashing water and fracturing the floor beneath it with a deafening boom. It stood up and immediately went at the closest creature, using its metallic fists to knock it back and keep it from attacking.

Left astonished, the General watched as the hulking monstrosity beat the other into submission on the floor, writhing in pain. It then lifted its large foot and slammed it downwards, crushing the skull of the abomination inwards and splattering the grey matter across the floor. The water turned red, bits and pieces of skull floating around lazily.

White Mark reached out to warn the newcomer of an approaching monster behind it, but it was too late. The tendrils on the mouth of the creature snapped forward but couldn’t penetrate the thick padding around the neck. Settling for damaging its adversary instead, the brown predator swiped several times at its back, eliciting a single, muffled grunt. The creature elbowed the predator in the face, sending it stumbling back and launching water up. It quickly turned invisible and ran.

The stallion watched, waiting for something to happen. The one that had killed already moved towards the center of the room, where a dry area a few meters in diameter resided. Its head darted in different directions, trying to detect the predator. White Mark leaned forward and gasped at what he saw next.

The monstrosity, still invisible, made splashes of water as it ran to the back of the larger creature. It didn’t seem to take notice and stood there, still moving its head and sweeping with its eyes. Then, much to the awe of the General, it turned in one fluid motion, sticking its knife forward in the air. It became silent, with nothing happening for what felt like hours. The General thought the creature missed and simply froze up, but what really happened quickly revealed itself.

The disgusting, brown creature turned visible before his eyes. Its tendrils were wrapped around the single hand of the fighter, desperately trying to remain alive. The knife was lodged deep within its skull through its left eye, most likely entering the brain in the process. The stallion knew that it had no chance of survival as it slumped to the floor into a dead pile. Blood poured out of its head, further dying the water.

The only survivor then began to saw off the head, only reaching half way through before it just decided to tear off the head using its raw strength. It attached the skull to its waist, where several others also resided. The sight was sickening to the pony, who wanted to retch at that very moment. His eyes darted between the pile of rubble and the lone creature, unsure of what to do.

He could attack the creature and capture it, or check to see if Violet Light was alive and hopefully just unconscious. His mind was made up the instant a muffled scream was heard from beneath the debris. Without a moment’s hesitation, the General flew quickly to the pile and desperately attempted to remove various stones. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t made any progress from moving them.

Two grasper-type things reached out in front of him and grabbed a piece of the ceiling, easily hauling it off and tossing it away. White Mark’s eyes met that of the creature, whose glassiness unnerved him. He immediately backed up several meters and took an offensive stance.

Growling, White Mark barked his words, “Stranger! What gives you the right to approach this city and terrorize its citizens? Why do you murder in cold blood?”

It didn’t respond and simply kept at what it was doing earlier of removing debris. Another scream underneath forced the General to swallow his trepidation and zoom to the pile, shoving off pieces with great effort. His eyes lit up in relief when he was met with Violet Light, who was bleeding heavily from her head and was barely conscious. He used his teeth to grab at the scruff of her neck and pull the mare out, setting her on the dry area nearby.

White Mark inspected her wounds, horror stuck to his face. Not many were superficial, if any at all, on the mare. One back and front leg each seemed to be broken, along with a few ribs. Blood caked her fur, coloring it a red-purplish tone. What really stuck out was that her horn was broken towards the top, chipped away and left a flattish stub. He felt a hand push him away from Violet Light, setting him back a few feet.

“Hey! What do you think you’re do-“

“Quiet!” It bellowed, “Hold your tongue while the sacred tears of the Zone heal this daughter! Do not provoke me, infidel, or may the Holy Crystal give me the strength to strike you down with haste!”

White Mark was about to respond, but realized the creature wasn’t paying attention to him anyway. It pulled out an odd looking object that glowed a warm orange and pressed it close to the forensics scientist. Nothing seemed to be happening for a good minute, prompting White Mark to reach out and motion to push away the hulking thing.

The hoof stopped short and his jaw fell, watching the skin and broken bones mend and rebind together just as it was before. Her horn grew incredibly fast, returning itself to its former glory without a single stop. White Mark was left amazed at what he saw; barely able to take in the awe-inspiring greatness he had witnessed the object do.

Before long, it was back on the creature’s belt, resting snuggly against his body. It hoisted Violet Light onto its shoulders and followed the way the two ponies arrived, with the General still watching it with interest. He watched as it climbed up the stairway to the surface, unspeaking. When White Mark arrived at the alleyway above, he found no traces of the creature at all, with it having disappeared entirely.

White Mark stood still, fear present in his eyes as he watched Violet Light lay on the ground. She hadn’t moved at all in the five minutes they had been in an alleyway, driving him up the wall with worry. No wounds were present on her and she seemed to be unconscious for the most part. That is, until she started stirring awake and mumbling to herself. The General watched intently as her eyelids slowly cracked open, revealing the beautiful magenta eyes within. He breathed a sigh of relief, shutting his eyes.

He nearly jumped back when he felt a pair of hooves pull him in close enough for lips to connect to his own. Unsure of what to do and left confused, the General threw away his rigidity and kissed back, feeling both of their heart rates quicken. They held it for a few moments longer, letting the passion sink in and the moment last. Eventually, she pulled away for a gasp of breath, panting against his face.

White Mark suddenly began to feel his heart ache at not being with her again, locked together in an embrace. Violet grabbed him with her hooves and pulled the stallion into a hug, holding him tightly.

“Thank you for saving me…”

He sighed, relieved at how the situation turned out, “Anything for a mare like yourself…” Her stomach grumbled, making the moment more comedic than romantic, “I take it you’re up for another dinner and walk?”

She looked at a nearby clock tower and smiled, “More like breakfast now, but I’d like that… and to spend more time with you.”

'She seems to have gotten over that traumatizing experience quite quick...' White Mark thought to himself.

For the first time in a long time, the General grinned, feeling uncharacteristically happy. He helped her up to her hooves and soon they were back on the street. The mind of the stallion wandered, wondering if two dates in the same night was something to brag about. Pushing that to the back of his mind along with what had happened in the sewers, he glanced at the mare walking next to him and smiled, knowing that he was beginning to feel closer to her.

This didn't distract him from his duty, however, as he stopped by a nearby guard post on the way to a diner. The stallion quickly scribbled down a letter, eyes shooting in different directions to make sure no one was watching. He read over the letter in his mind, trying to see if it was fit for the royalty that ran his country.

'Princesses, I've run into more creatures. They've delved into the waterways now, that is definite. Another creature has risen and taken to slaying those monsters, whom I am one hundred percent sure are kidnapping ponies to feed upon. They have amazing speed, strength, and the power invisibility. Their incredible deftness with killing should make them our highest priority and post armed guards near sewer stallion-holes. They seem to abduct ponies passing by and quickly dash out of sight. These abominations are becoming bolder, interestingly enough, as they now attack out in the open with more than one pony in the vicinity. The other, however, seems to find an odd satisfaction in killing them. For whatever reason, it rips the head off of the monsters and places it upon its waist, where quite a few others reside. It is definitely intelligent, as it speaks with a fluid, monotone tongue. There's something hidden beneath it that I cannot decipher, but I feel as thought it is repressing something. It holds a miraculous object that I believe may be of use to the country, though. This object literally heals anything it touches, including bones, skin, and horns! I believe we should capture this creature come morning, where, with you permission of course, I will lead a detachment of guards to hunt it down and subdue it. Its strength outmatches the killers, where it could easily lift large weights without so much as a grunt. We are dealing with a hazardous situation, Your Highness, one where we must act quickly. There is nothing else to report for now, but I shall keep you updated with new information as it arises.'

The General wrote his signature and rolled the scroll up, tying it off to prevent it from opening. He sighed and felt himself drag low, tired from the experiences he was receiving recently. Somepony cleared their throat behind him and he turned to the guard in question.

"Eventful night, eh General? Must be a nice mare," the guard said flatly.

White Mark placed a single hoof on the guard's shoulder, "You wouldn't believe how eventful. Alert all nearby posts to watch the stallion-holes nearby. The murderers are exiting from there to kidnap ponies. And make sure Princess Celestia gets this letter."

The guard took the letter before saluting, "Yes sir!"

He ran off to get a unicorn to deliver the message between posts and to send the letter, something the pegasus guard couldn't do. White Mark exited the room and returned to find Violet Light standing in tight lobby. He nodded to her and they left the post, ready to finally grab breakfast and hopefully get some rest later on.

"So," she began, "What was that about?"

"Hmm?"

"You're telling all of them what happened, aren't you?"

He gave a confused look, "Yes, why? This is something that needs to be taken care of."

"That means more work for the team in the morning," Violet groaned, "And that means I got to wake up early too."

White Mark grinned, "Well, how about we get some pancakes and I'll walk you home? Deal?"

"Deal," Violet Light confirmed with a kiss, "But don't think you're getting lucky tonight, you did let that monster-thing grab me."

He cocked his head to the side in an effort to fake innocence, "Can you blame me for being distracted by you?"

The mare smiled and bumped her flank against his, "No, I suppose I can't. But don't let it happen again!"

"I won't."

"Promise?"

Taking initiative, he gave her a light peck on the cheek, "I promise."

The four stalkers and two scientists lazily sat at the campfire, talking every now and then. There had been no action or reason for alarm all night so far and each of them either ate or drank some beverage to pass time. While the ISG Troops were required to be awake for this shift, the two scientists decided to spend time with them in hopes of possibly learning something about the Zone that didn’t know yet.

Other than the fire, there was no lighting and not much could be seen past its light. Chason made a note to install floodlights and other sources for better security, knowing full well what could lurk in the dark. He bit a piece of his diet sausage and washed it down with a small swig of vodka, letting the burning sensation hit his throat.

Violinist seemed to pull a guitar out of nowhere and began playing it, letting the tune drift through the crisp night air. Each of the other humans watched him use the instrument to great effect, lulling their anxiety. Chason joined in with his harmonica, getting some of the group’s attention himself. They played for a few minutes longer until something disturbed Violinist, forcing him abruptly stop and play a sour note.

The five others looked at him, his body rigid and straight, until he uttered a few words, “A stranger approaches…”
Chason felt his hackles rise, his spine chilled beyond normal. The two other ISG troops shuddered and sat down, attempting to make themselves as small as possible in anticipation of what was to come. Both Wexler and Vicks shared confused looks and stared at them, trying to identify what went wrong. The more skittish American nearly jumped when a gloved hand was placed on his shoulder, patting it once before squeezing with a bit more force than necessary.

His eyes drifted up to see a stalker, clad in a SEVA Suit, looking down on him. Wexler glanced back at the others, each seeing their eyes as wide as saucers. The man swallowed nervously and stared back at the SEVA stalker. The image on the curtain helm was frightening; where it reflected the campfire more than he thought was possible. Time seemed to grind to a halt as he watched the fire on the surface of the helm grow exponentially, covering most of it in dark-red flames that bit at the top of the shiny head.

The stalker simply stared at him, making the American’s heart race, “H-Hello. W-Who are y-you?”

He felt another pat before the stalker removed his hand and spoke in a cheery tone, “Blowout soon, fellow stalkers.”
Both of the ISG Troops fell off their logs, scrambling to their feet and making a mad dash to the mobile lab, which they locked as they made their way in. The two remaining stalkers took notice of this and cursed under their breaths, knowing that the situation was about to grow very dire. Chason’s ears twitched when he heard Vicks speak.

“Oh, really? Wh- AGH!“

Chason violently grabbed Vicks by the arm and yanked him back towards the log he was sitting on. Violinist did the same for Wexler, who looked as though he were on the verge of a breakdown. The Tourist kept Vicks in a headlock, holding a hand over his mouth much in the same way his partner did to the other scientist.

With a carefully slow tone, Violinist spoke to the SEVA stalker, “Depart from here! Leave this place, foul demon! We want no trouble and have no quarrel with you!”

The stalker stepped close to Violinist, leaned in, pointed a single finger, and spoke tauntingly, “Blowout soon. Stalkers.”

Chason gritted his teeth, “We said leave! You existence is a perversion of the Zone! We need not your advice, monster! Your information is wrong!”

The finger slowly curled back into the hand and formed a clenched fist, with the entire body tensing up. The stalker released his hand once more and pointed it at the group one last time as he continued to walk away.

“Blowout soon, fellow stalkers.”

The SEVA stalker walked away from the light of the campfire and into the darkness, where his footsteps ceased immediately. Violinist aimed his flashlight at where the stalker went, only to find that there was no one there. He stood up and looked at the ground where the stalker was. Burn marks in the shape of boot-prints were etched into the ground, scorching all the grass underneath to the point where it was dead and smoking. Violinist shuddered at the close call.
Chason released Vicks, who shoved the stalker and sat back down on his log in a huff.

“Just what the fuck was that for, you ingrate?”

“You idiot! Do you realize what you nearly did?”

The scientist stood up, “I’M AN IDIOT? You’re the biggest joke of a human being here!”

“Shut up! Both of you! We nearly got killed just now and you’re arguing? Grow up!” Violinist yelled in an attempt to quiet them.

Wexler fidgeted uncontrollably, “K-K-Killed?! What?! How?!”

Chason and Violinist shared looks and nodded to each other, with the former speaking, “Neither of you have been in the Zone before, but you should know about what happens here. Do either of you know what that was?”

Vicks crossed his arms, “You mean ‘who?’”

“No, ‘what.’ That was no stalker, let alone a man.”

“W-What was i-it?” Wexler stuttered.

Vicks slapped his shoulder, “What? You seriously believe this dribble their peddling? If that wasn’t a person, just what was it?”

“That… that was the ‘Instigator.’ It’s… not natural,” he finished with a quick look over his shoulder.

“The ‘Instigator?’ What kind of name is that supposed to be?”

“That is what he does,” Chason spoke, “He disrupts the natural process of the Zone and instigates unnatural occurrences to happen. H-He can end lives with only a few words, wiping out whole camps just because it’s what he does…”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, this is no joke. It’s always the same. A stalker dressed in a normal SEVA Suit comes by and informs of a future blowout, waiting until he gets a response from someone. If they speak the ‘word’, then he begins his path of death and slaughters all life in the vicinity. If no one does, he’ll eventually leave the area and not return or be seen for weeks. He’s the stranger of the Zone, more than you foreigners. He can’t be killed and there’s no way to escape his destruction once he’s been talked to using the ‘word.’ He isn’t restricted by this reality or plane of existence. No world can hold him, and he is the traveller between dimensions. He is a monster, a deformed and twisted entity that lies in wait for a stalker to slip up. He’s the ‘Instigator.’”

The life around the campfire fell silent at that, not one person speaking. Everyone looked at their own feet, considering such things in their head. For a while, they sat there, letting what had just happened sink in fully. Vicks, not entirely convinced but willing to take measures to preserve his life, stood up and headed inside the lab for some sleep. The other two stalkers looked at Wexler, whose fear-stricken face shot towards random directions, keeping track of every sound around him.

“I-I, uh, um, I think… I-I think I’m g-going to have nightmares, um, for a b-bit…”

Violinist tossed him a bottle of vodka, “Everyone has nightmares in the Zone, but maybe this will help.”

Wexler nodded and unscrewed the back, taking heavy gulps and coughing violently as he headed inside the lab. Now that the two veterans were alone, they began to talk about old times and other recent topics worth mentioning. After a while, it came down to one certain question that had never come up before: their true names.

“You know, you never really told me what you were called before coming here,” Violinist started.

“I could say the same to you, man,” Chason retorted.

Real names were an uncommon practice among Zone inhabitants, with only a few stalkers having used them. There was Oleg “Fiend” Gusarov, a well-known stalker, but not many others. Still, it was something that most stalkers never asked each other, no matter the circumstances. Once it was mentioned in the two stalkers' conversation, the air turned awkward.

“Let’s share? You tell me yours and I tell you mine?”

“Why do I have to go first?”

“Why not? You’re afraid?”

“Shut up, taunting doesn’t work on me.” He held out his hand jokingly, “Chason Juhurov.”

His comrade grabbed it and gave it a firm shake, “Arkhip Maskhadov. Nice to finally meet you.”

Chason grinned, “Yeah, same here, friend.”

He glanced up towards the sky, which brightened considerably during the time they had been around the campfire. The sun was just beginning to reach over the trees, bringing its light down upon the stalkers. Both felt the warmth of it, and yet, it seemed different. The warmth held some kind of feeling to it that seemed natural, but odd at the same time.

Violinist yawned and stretched his arms, “Our shift is over, let’s tell those bums to take over already.”

Chason nodded, still captivated by the scene, “…Yeah, let’s do that…”

They both walked inside the mobile lab, glad to have evaded one of the most horrible fates in the Zone, tired of all the work they had put in, and unaware of what was to come the approaching days. The Zone may work in mysterious ways, but unbeknownst to them, so did this world.

Author's Notes

So, the next chapter is here. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to ever introduce names into this fic, mainly because of that there are a decent amount of them. They'll still be using their Zone-Names, if it's any consolation. Also, try to figure out what the name "Arkhip" means. Might be pleasantly surprised.

Now, if you've been around and did STALKER stuff on the internet, you'll know of the unnamed SEVA stalker who always warns of a blowout. I sorta gave him a name I thought fitting here. He won't ever show up again as far I'm concerned and it's more like an easter egg for anyone who gets the joke.

Action will start soon, but I need to flesh out certain characters to do so. Don't get too attached to any characters though, I'll just say that now. That goes for any OC's or actual characters from either universe. Also, I might cover the other stalkers who may have stumbled into Equestria, such as that Freedomer I've decided to call "Borz."

Also, one thing about the inventory scene. Don't hate on this, but the CYSTA suit is an extremely bright yellow exoskeleton you can get from the Yantar lab in that mod I mentioned in previous chapters, OGSE. I never realized it until I played that mod that it would make sense for the scientists to employ various types of suits for construction purposes. I mean, who the hell set up their fences? That's where the larger, non-personal exoskeleton comes into play. Same colors as the personal one, except this one is massive, can hold both you and your suit in the cockpit and is pretty much a pilotable vehicle. I wouldn't have put it in here if I didn't have a scene in mind where it would come in, hint hint.

I'd like to thank Cody MacArthur Fett for pointing out something amiss with the helicopters I used, Slotos for mentioning how shit my translations were, and everyone else who said either how much they liked this fic or some other type of positive support.

Anyway, I think that's about all I have to say for now. If I missed anything, PM me or some shit. Be sure to comment, because I do love to hear what people think of this fic. I hope you all enjoyed this and future installments of OaP.

As I usually say,
Stay Trilla.

EDIT:

Fixed that scene with White Mark. Fett was right, it did seem stupid to not have White Mark do some kind of shit. Of course, sending his boys into the sewers at night against a bunch of invisible dickheads is going to end like Operation Fairway.

With Everyone Dead.

Chapter 4: Illusions and Specimen Retrievals

Observation and Protection
Chapter 4: Illusions and Specimen Retrievals
By: Stillmatic

“Yeah, I know who you mean… That ‘Marked One’ reeks of Death Truck. That’s why no one let him into the village when Red found him and brought him back to Sidorovich… Yeah, you know what they made him do? I thought it was going to be hilarious, but no, the guy managed to not get his legs blown clean off by an anomaly. He found the Stone Blood for Sid and then that fat bastard tells all of us to let him in? What kind of crock is that? Still… He did help us when those Mercs were knocking at our door, and he did clean up the car park with Petruha and Awl. Whatever, he’s gone now. To the North, they say. Him and a bunch of experts toting Exos are making their way to the Center… Can you believe that? Maybe the Truck wasn’t supposed to bring him back after all… Maybe it was going to be his own two legs…” – Fanatic, from the Rookie Village in the Cordon

The filthy nails dug into the hardened sand, nearly shattering backwards from the desperation that forced them upwards, climbing step by step ever so doggedly. Nothing would stand in the body’s way; nothing could possibly muster the strength and produce the force necessary to knock it down from where it was. One hand leaned up and grabbed at a fractured piece of sand, getting pulled back immediately.

Between cracks lied some type of molten liquid that fired tiny, harmless sparks every now and then. Yet, the viscous liquid was cool to the touch, not harming the appendage at all. It reached forward again and pulled up, then repeated with the opposite hand. Labored breathing echoed through, and the constantly erratic clicking of the Geiger counter was a verbal assault that grinded through what little patience there was within the body.

Left grab, right step, right grab, left step, repeat. This went on for a few seconds more, until the body reached the top of the mound of rocky sand. It immediately leaped to the wall nearby, clinging to the ladder for dear life, and climbing with a hasty speed that reflected its sheer willpower and determination. At the top and far back, stood The Big It. Without a second thought, the body glanced around and spotted another route, finding its original blocked off by a ledge far too high to climb.
Rung after rung, it climbed, not stopping for a moment and not caring what the consequences would be. It had come too far to stop now, and halting all the progress it had made would be the single most shameful act to have ever graced the Zone. Reaching the top, the Geiger counter slowly died down a bit, easing the pointy, outward ears. The next step involved crossing a large, collapsed beam, where falling would most definitely result in an untimely death.

Graced with balance and mental fortitude, the body quickly moved across the red beam with utmost care. After crossing the massive gap between areas, the body slowly slid down a pile of rubbish, make sure not to receive a tear in its suit or injure an appendage. The landing was perfect and both feet were safely planted on the ground once again. Like a drug fiend to his fix, the body sprinted forward and climbed up another pile, scaling it with ease until it reached a flat piece of concrete.

The trial wasn’t over just yet, however, and various obstacles were overcame and left in the radioactive dust that clung so feverishly to every possible surface. Reaching the finish line, the body leaped into a young spatial anomaly that transported him to his destination, the foreboding platform that stared down at all trespassers. Landing face first in the dirt, the body lifted itself up and wiped the excess particles from its suit. The breathing slowed significantly, holding it in anticipation as if the universe itself depended on it.

The gasmask was peeled of his face, allowing for a fresh breath to finally fill his throbbing lungs. Glorious! It was an absolute elixir-life in the form of a gas he needed so badly! The tan mask fell to the floor, with the surrounding air crisp and clean, with no indication of any radiation from the Geiger counter. It was he who made it. It was he who used only a lightly-modified SEVA suit, no curtain helm, and just a gasmask to do what only a handful had ever done. The AKM-74/2U strapped to his back was doing as it deserved, resting patiently and waiting for its next use.

Such simple items, yet they had made all the difference to this one man. No, this one stalker. None. None would ever believe this to be true. To think he’d finally made it? Here? Impossible. Though, here he was, wasn’t he? Amid all the relics and ancient structures of years long gone, festered together through the deaths and lives stolen by an old world once so lively and corrupted beyond the wildest nightmares that humanity could possibly have spawned? It was… breathtaking. Yes, that’s what it was for him.

He nearly felt like jumping with joy, shooting his fists into the air and claiming victory over the Zone for what has finally happened. But he didn’t. Now was not the time for that, despite the salty joy the leaked from his eyes. He used his palm to wipe away the liquid and focused on the task at hand. Now was the time, wasn’t it?

Without another thought, the stalker stepped to his prize, the massive monument glowing a glorious blue hue that shown divinity onto his ragged and tired body. The Wish Granter towered over him, whispering into his ears and beckoning for him to finally receive what he so righteously deserved for all of his troubles. He reached out his hand, but pulled back, not feeling all that worthy anymore. Still, he raised both of them to his chest, clenching them and staring at the Holy Crystal.

“I…”

He thought for a moment. What was it he wanted exactly? Money wasn’t a concern for him, and he made no true enemies among the Zone that would make him feel as though humanity was an inadequate and defunct entity that didn’t deserve existence. Power wasn’t needed and he knew he lived a full life. What was it that he wanted?

‘I want the Zone to disappear.’

No. He shook his head. It wasn’t possible.

‘Humanity is corrupt, mankind must be destroyed.’

No. He shuddered. It wasn’t right.

‘I want to be rich.’

No. He clicked his tongue. It wasn’t about the money.

‘I want to rule the world.’

No. He grimaced. It wasn’t about the power.

‘I want immortality.’

No. He scowled. It wasn’t for him.

“THEN WHAT?!” He screamed at the top of his rusty lungs, “WHAT?! WHAT IS IT?!”

And like that, the whispers were gone. The seductive call of the Monolith was purged from his thoughts, and removed from his head. His jaw slackened slightly and the veil was lifted from his mind. His eyes regained their color and life, bringing him into the reality that relied on a true state of being. It was… right. He looked up at the Monolith and felt a scowl of pure hatred cross his face.

‘It’s all an illusion, manufactured in a lab near the Sarcophagus.’

So… all of this was a trick? An illusion, made by man. That’s what Doctor said, and he was absolutely right. No one had ever returned from the Wish Granter alive, in the entire history of the Zone. That was about to change. The stalker looked away from the Wish Granter, feeling foolish for having believed in it, despite being told otherwise. He checked his backpack and fished out a decoder. He now knew what he had to do. The man began to walk away from the Monolith, feeling restored both physically and mentally. His journey wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot.

“I wish…” He said as he left the hearing distance of the Crystal, “… for nothing…”

The stalker departed the Chernobyl Reactor Number Four and climbed down the ladder, ready for as many battles as it would take him to finally make this right. He knew he had his part in the Zone’s instability, and for that, he felt the heaviest burden of guilt. But now wasn’t the time for that. Now was the time for action. And as he reached the bottom of the sand piles and molten liquid, he questioned to himself one thought.

‘Will I do the right thing?’

Vile dreams swam through the Tourist’s head, haunting him at every second he remained asleep. He awoke with a start, sweat decking his body and making the thin cover stick to him moistly. The hardened lungs took deep gulps of air, making sure that it was still possible from where he was. Chason swiveled and sat on the edge of the bunk, feeling nauseous and fear-stricken from what he’d seen.

As his senses came back to him, it became obvious that something was wrong. Screaming? Why was there screaming coming from outside? His instincts kicked in and he immediately grabbed for the Martha underneath his pillow, rearing it upwards like a precious child. He was mostly naked with the exception of a tank top and pair of cargo shorts, but that didn’t matter at the moment. Were the scientists safe?

Someone kicked in the airlock door to the mobile lab, which sent it slamming against the nearby wall.

“Tourist!”

He recognized that voice but remained where he was as he clutched his weapon, “Violinist! What happened?”

“You have to come see this! It’s amazing! We’ve captured a new type of mutant! Get your suit on and bring the tranquilizer rifle from within the lab! Hurry!”

Tranquilizer? They weren’t planning on killing the mutant? He found that surprising, to say the least. There was an awkward sigh, followed by a series of thoughts. Of course, why wouldn’t a bunch of hippy scientists from the United Nations want to keep it alive? Such humanitarians they were, at least, when it wasn’t happening right under their noses.

Grumbling to himself, Chason suited himself up quickly but kept his gasmask off. The strapped SGI-5K under his bunk was left where it was and he sped to the other end of the lab in order to grab the less violent and more humane weapon. Within a minute, he was out the door, toting a metal rifle in his firm grip. Outside of the door was like nothing he’d ever seen, whether in the outside world or the Zone itself.

Some creature, he didn’t know what, was caught in a net and slashing around wildly with its claws. The body structure hinted at a Chimera, but it was furred and didn’t have a stubby neck, where a long one took its place that lead to a bird’s head. The beak was an odd mutation, with Chason never seeing something quite like that on any mutant before. Its tail seemed that of a cat, most likely from a more arid environment. All in all, this thing was far too outlandish to be considered normal to Earth standards, but not mutated enough to truly fit within the Zone’s.

Several ISG Troops held ropes to the net to hold it down and prevent the animal’s escape. A few others were behind them holding their weapons to fire at a second’s notice. Nearby were Okaidy and Diederich, who observed the creature with severe concern to its well-being. Figures, he thought to himself. The large South-African motioned for him to come closer, which he promptly did.

“Seeing as though you run the security detail, I’d like you to tell your subordinates to please be careful with the mutant. There is no archived data on it and we need to study it alive,” Okaidy explained with a thick accent.

Chason nodded his head and turned it to the ISG Troops, “(Hey! Be careful with that thing! Whatever you do, don’t go for a killing shot! Make sure it doesn’t get hurt and just hold it down for now!)” He heard various grunts and words of protest, “(You either do that or you’ll find yourself on trial for destroying United Nations property!)”

The threat seemed to ring clear and each of the Troops lowered their weapons. Chason took aim at the main body of the creature, waiting for it to give him a clear shot. There was a pneumatic “thwip”, followed by a cry of pain from the creature. What soon followed stopped everyone’s hearts cold.

“OW! NOT COOL! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!” It seemed to speak fluent English, disregarding the previous assumptions the humans made, “STUPID…” It shrieked in anger, the slightly feminine voice cracking, “DWEEBS! LET! ME! GO!”

No one knew what to say to it, but the labored breathing soon followed, indicating the remote drug injection was taking affect. It thrashed around less, dropping the guard of everyone. A confident ISG Troop walked forward to tie off the net, only to be slashed across the chest with a clawed hand. He fell backwards, landing against the hard ground and pushing himself away from the creature that was nearly unconscious at this point. It slumped down, the drug taking its full effect and sending it into a medically-induced state of sleep.

Chason hefted the Troop by the shoulders, “(Are you alright?)”

The gasmask didn’t hide the shocked tone, “(What the fuck?! That thing just talked!)”

The Tourist pressed a finger into the cut marks on the bulletproof vest and found that the blow didn’t penetrate deep enough for it to hit the skin. The vest was ruined by ISG standards, where even a small penetration was grounds for an equipment exchange. The Trooper stared at the creature and shook his head lightly, still surprised at what had just happened.

He heard Chason speak from behind him, “(Aren’t you supposed to be a veteran? Why on Earth would you get that close to an unknown mutant?)” The Tourist clicked his tongue, “(Go and get a new vest from the armory. Leave this one somewhere inside.)”

The Troop nodded and left, making sure to check behind his shoulder in case anything decided to jump out at him. Chason turned to the scientists, who stared at the animal before them in bewilderment.

Diederich was barely able to speak, only uttering a few words, “H-How… Did it..?”

“Amazing…” Okaidy concluded, “Every time I think something is going to be normal, a new prospect pops up and presents itself.” He turned his head to Chason but kept his eyes at the new discovery lying in the grass, “You. You have experience, yes? Then tell me, have you ever heard of mutants speaking in any decipherable language? English, Russian, Ukrainian? Anything?”

Chason propped the rifle against his shoulder in thought, “Well… Yes, actually. Controllers are capable of speaking whatever language they knew beforehand, both variants of Zombies speak in a muddled sense, Poltergeists have been known to whisper to stalkers who go through their territory, and Burers are capable but don’t choose to for the most part, like just about any other mutant. They can emulate the crying of baby or toddler though, for whatever reason. It’s worth noting that Fleshes speak in a garbled, distorted perversion of Ukrainian, but it’s next to impossible to understand (though, I specifically remember one time where one said ‘Help me, Brother!’). These are all just off the top of my head, though, and I’m sure there are more that are capable of communication through understandable vocalization.”

“I’m impressed,” Diederich muttered, still surprised at the encounter, “You seem to know more than you let on… What else is there that we should know?”

He stopped himself from shrugging in an effort to not seem rude and simply pushed his hood away from his neck, “A lot. Scientists fail to realize that stalkers have firsthand experience with the Zone. It’s sad, really. The people who know the most are the ones who get ignored and are disregarded as brutish killers a good portion of the time.” The Tourist looked thoughtful for a short moment, “I feel as though it’s ironic, but I won’t push my luck there. I’m thankful the Zone has kept me alive this long.”

Okaidy gave him a quick glance in interest, “You truly believe this place is alive, don’t you?”

Chason opened his mouth, but was cut short by a new voice that had entered from behind.

“Of course, young man, the Zone is always alive.” They turned to find Professor Kalancha stepping out of the lab, looking weary from whatever work he spent the night on, “Think of it as a body, with each of us as the foreign agents to it. Can you understand what I’m getting to?”

Diederich thought for a moment, “A body, you say..? I’d assume that those ‘hiccups’ are caused by us ‘agents’, then?”

“Yes, this one,” he pointed to Chason, “told us about the reactions the Exclusion Zone can emit when threatened by contaminants.”

The Tourist nodded his agreement, “Each emission is an attempt to cleanse the Zone, with each one rearranging anomalies and such. Obviously, it isn’t very successful most of the time, due to stalkers having places to hide during that time.”

Kalancha pressed his hand onto Chason’s shoulder, “And that is what a true student of the Zone will tell you when you ask.” He headed towards the airlock of the mobile lab, “It would be most wise to listen to his input during any procedure or course of action. His knowledge might just save your life, unlike many others who disregarded such things in the past.”

Ignoring the grim ending, Chason smiled, “Thank you Professor, I appreciate the kind words.”

The Bean-Pole stopped at the doorway, staring low to the inside and remaining silent for a few seconds, “… Yes… well, information, no matter who it’s from, must be treated with optimal respect and care. Now, I must be getting some rest for a few hours. Docent Suslov will most likely be out of the lab within a short amount of time. Please, be careful and tread lightly.”

With that, the scientist headed back inside in order to sleep, leaving the half dozen Troops, the Scientists, the creature and both the Violinist and Tourist outside. Okaidy motioned to speak but something cut him off. Everyone stood still as a massive claw went straight through the nearby fencing, cutting it apart easily and knocking down several pieces. Dust was kicked up quickly, clouding the area and preventing the humans from seeing what had arrived.

Then, like a streak of light, a bulking lion-like mutant pounced forward from the cloud and landed on an ISG Troop. He screamed out in horror as claw was dug into his face, tearing it off and decapitating his head from his body in one swift blow. Everyone flinched back as fear began to grip them with no restraint.

Chason looked over the creature quickly in an attempt to relate it to a mutant he knew. It had large wings on its back, a sign that it was something completely new. There was a purple stinger where a tail should have resided that ebbed lightly, as if ready at all times to stab a possible target. The menacing smile across its face spelled death in any language, with the teeth as razor-sharp as its predatory abilities. Its eyes locked onto Chason as he began to shout commands to the rest of his team and the remaining scientists.

“Okaidy, Diederich! Get inside and lock the door, we’ll handle this!” He kept his eyes onto the creatures as he grimaced, “(Get into positions! Treat it as though it’s a Chimera! Watch out for the tail as well!)”

The two scientists retreated into the mobile lab quickly, doing as they were told and securing the bunker. Chason cursed under his breath, realizing that he only brought his Martha and the tranquilizer rifle with him, where they’d probably do nothing to such a large monstrosity. Violinist edged close to him in that brief window of time before the fight began (which in reality was only three or four seconds) and shoved him away while still aiming at the new mutant.

“(Go!)” His partner shouted, “(We’ll take care of this one; you won’t be able to do anything with those! Look past the mutant, there’s another that’s smaller! Bring it down and get it back here while we fight this thing!)”

The mutant pounced at them as Violinist finished that sentence. They both rolled in opposite directions, barely dodging the attack with their lives. The Troops opened fire immediately as the tail swiped at Violinist, merely clipping him with the side. He was sent a few feet away into the dirt and landed prostrate.

The thick boots kicked up dust and he fired as he raised himself back up into a standing position. Violinist glanced at Chason leaving through the torn gate and focused solely on the threat in front of him now. Things were likely to get messy.

The fire cracked silently as four Stalkers sat around it. The night was silent, only a small wind and the rustling of grass and leaves to fill the ears. One of the men spoke up suddenly: “Have you children heard the tale of the Monolith?" Hearing no replies, the man continued, "You see, in the center of the Zone, stands the Nuclear Power Plant. Many have tried to reach it, and almost all of them have failed. Their ambitions were mountains of artifacts and gold, and anything else their greedy minds could think of. But their ideas had a reason; they all had heard and tried to get to the place most sacred for the Monolith bastards."

"They all tried to get to the Wish Granter - a being, or a place, only God knows what it is, in the Plant, that can grant you your wildest wishes! Mountains of artifacts, eternal glory, fame, hills of money, immortality - everything. Possibilities a man couldn't spend in a lifetime! All the Wish Granter asks in return is a small payment, but what it is, children, I'll leave you to find out."

In the morning, the elderly Stalker had left, leaving nothing but an echo from the story. Strelok, Ghost and Fang would never see the man again.– Stalker Folklore, from Varying Sources

He shoved the Monolithian back with a rifle-butt to the face, finishing the brainwashed human with a Warsaw round to the head and coating the inside of the SEVA suit’s curtain helm red. Without a second thought, the stalker went through the doorway to a new room that was far darker than the rest. The heavy, metallic bulkhead slammed behind him and he twisted back to fire a few shots at it in surprise. A bullet ricocheted and nearly hit his ear, but he didn’t flinch a centimeter. It was locked from the other end, he realized, and there was no way out from that direction anymore.

Turning around again, he spotted what he’d finally been waiting to see. Before him were tubes filled with a flowing electricity that danced magnificently, entrancing him for but a moment’s time. He shook his head and observed what was in the middle of the tubes. It was a hologram, exactly like the Monolith, yet far smaller and greener. Taking his knife out, the stalker began breaking each tube with ferocious stabs, shattering them and sending shockwaves through the room. Luckily, his Battery prevented any of the electricity to jump directly to his body and stopped a shocking death.

A Poltergeist appeared soon after he destroyed the second tube, just barely showing itself in his peripheral vision. He leaped to the floor and dodged a pillar of flames by mere inches. The room began heating up intensely as a result of the Poltergeist and its pyro-kinetic abilities. Choosing to ignore the mutant for now, the stalker slammed his hunting knife down on another tube and ruptured it into a brilliant light show that literally knocked him off of his feet. He backpedalled and another shower of fire missed him again.

The stalker pulled out the “Big Ben,” a heavily modified Black Kite refitted to fire rifle rounds that he’d looted of a stalker named Freeman (he also kept the crowbar he bought off of the Barkeep as well). The recoil of the massive handgun nearly pushed the gun to his face, but he kept lowering it as his bullets broke another tube, leaving only two left. He rolled to the side and saw another Poltergeist show up from thin air that spotted him immediately.

With possibly only seconds left, the Loner booted apart the closest remaining tube’s glass and pistol whipped the last one. The third Poltergeist finally arrived and he soon found himself cornered by the invisible mutants. Then, without warning, they exploded in a shower of body parts, coating him a healthy amount of blood and other unmentionable things. He backed away and found that the hologram was now nonexistent and had vanished once he’d destroyed the holographic tubes.

Suddenly, another hologram appeared, this one a scientist with his hands behind his back. The stalker froze and stared at it, not daring to speak just yet. He felt himself being rooted in place by some force he couldn’t describe, as if a Controller itself was doing this to him.

The hologram spoke with very subtle hints of amusement, but sternly, “Hello, Strelok. I see you have many questions for me. Well, then ask them, and then we can decide what to do with you.”

“Who are you?” The Loner asked in a raspy voice, it barely able to contain his confusion.

“We are the result of an experiment aimed at creating a Super Consciousness called C-Consciousness. The consciousness’s of seven volunteers were connecting during the experiment, leading to the creation of the Super Consciousness that is Us. We immediately subordinated those conducting the experiment and assigned them to tasks we needed them to carry out.” It took a breath, as if it needed it, “According to our calculations, Earth is surrounded by a special informational-field, a so-called Noosphere. It includes all of the inhabitants of the planet with cognitive abilities. Our main goal was to make small adjustments to the Noosphere, allowing us to remove things like anger, cruelty, greed, and other negative factors from the planet. Individuals are unable to affect the Noosphere, but C-Consciousness could.” It breathed again calmly, “Unfortunately, we made a mistake and our interference spawned the Zone, which we’d been trying to contain ever since.”

The stalker looked to his lower-left for a moment in thought, his eyelids closing half-way. He looked back up to the scientist, his voice much clearer now, “What is the Zone? How did it come about?”

“What you see is the result of an ill-considered intervention in the Earth’s Noosphere. Attempts to affect the Noosphere brought about the local ‘crack.’ The Zone is simply the visible manifestation of this ‘crack.’ The underlying problem is far greater than you can imagine.”

“Why did it happen here?”

“It was the best place. After the explosion in 1986, there were very few people left in this area and we could work without fear of being found. Further, there are many, powerful antennas here, which are extremely important for our cognitive optimization experiments.”

He sighed, “Is the explosion in ’86 your work too?”

“No, we had nothing to do with that. Most of us were only starting out in science back then. The Chernobyl Zone was not used as a testing site for experiments until 1989.”

“What happened to me?” The stalker asked curiously.

“You’re a bolt that fell out of the machine. Unfortunately, that did not come to our attention for a long time. From the moment the Zone was formed, many people have tried to get to its center, but cannot let that happen. Humanity is not ready for the truth. That is why we promised stalkers with the fulfillment of their most coveted desires. Once recruited, they’d be sent to protect the Zone’s secret.”

He pulled up his sleeve and showed his Mark, “What does the tattoo ‘S.T.A.L.K.E.R.’ mean?”

“S.T.A.L.K.E.R. is a coded acronym, which we use to mark agents programmed for particular missions. Your mission, as our agent, was to kill Strelok and his group. They got to close to finding out things they shouldn’t know. We created a network of psi-fields on the way to the Zone’s center in order to recruit agents. You know one of these fields by the name of ‘Brain Scorcher.’ When a stalker attempts to reach the Zone’s center in order to fulfill some wish, we acquire control over his consciousness and program him to a specific mission. A mistake was made,” the hologram flickered ever so slightly, “and your mission was to kill yourself.”

The stalker rubbed at the long scar atop his head, remembering how he obtained it when all of this started, “What are the ‘Death Trucks?’”

“The transports we used to send our ‘Marked’ agents into the Zone. They infiltrate the stalker community and carry out our orders without realizing it. Unfortunately, more than half the stalkers die during transportation. The Zone is very unstable,” it stated the obvious, “You are one of our agents sent to kill Strelok and we’re now trying to work out how we made that mistake.”

Still in awe at all this information, he shook his head to clear his mind, “What next?”

“That depends on you. The Zone is growing; we’re trying to restrain its expansion but humanity seems to be intent on hindering our work. Our resources are not limitless, and the bodies connected to C-Consciousness eventually die. If,” it said with a hint of emotion, “you join us, we can restrict the Zone’s growth. If you decide otherwise, we cannot make a credible prognosis of the outcome.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it instead. His concentration, every fiber of his being, and every possible part of him focused solely on his next course of action. His choice, whatever it may be, would either heal the Zone, or outright damage it beyond repair, possibly destroying it. The stalker pulled out a picture he received from Doctor and ran his hand over it. It was, for lack of a better word, his group. Doctor, Guide, Ghost, and Fang. Each was like a brother to him, and two of them were dead by this point.

Not many experts, if any, ever cried within the Zone, despite the circumstances. But him, the leader of the miniature faction, held back tears at the thought of his friends being dead. It was his fault that Fang was killed off by Clear Sky. It was his fault that Ghost went to work with the Ecologists, only for him to die at the hands of a Controller. It was his fault that an entire faction attempting to heal the Zone was wiped out. It was his fault an innocent man was persecuted to a slow death from each blowout. It was his fault that the Zone was in such a state of disrepair. And all for the sake of his own greed.

He stowed the picture and wiped any rogue tears from his eyes, careful not to get any radioactive dust particles within them. This stalker glared at the hologram in spite and spat his next few words, words that would forever alter the course of history within the Zone.

“I’m not going to help you with this deception.”

“So be it.” It concluded, “Follow the radio signal and then we’ll see just what exactly we will truly do with you. You’ve made it this far, but even the luckiest dog will have his fortune run out. There’s a warehouse at the other end of the plant. Decide for yourself what to do once you get there.” It clicked its nonexistent tongue, “It is a shame that you choose not to join us. A person like you could heal the Zone with your knowledge.”

And like that, it disappeared from his sight. A brief flash engulfed him, moving him away from the Monolith Control Center and to another location, where he’d finally begin the last leg of his journey. Things, for this stalker, never seemed to end. But then again, Strelok was always more than capable to handle anything the Zone threw at him, and this was going to be no different. After all, the body was unstoppable in its goal, and the mind knew what it needed to do. The only problem was a certain question that continued to bother Strelok.

‘Will I do the right thing?’

Chason took deep breaths as he sprinted, finding himself doing something quite challenging. Chasing mutants with tranquilizers was a job he tried once for Duty and it nearly ended in disaster. In fact, he remembered quite fondly of a Dutyer named Inquisitor that he captured a pair of Fleshes for. He was a pretty nice stalker and paid well for captured mutants. Of course, he never bothered with helping him ever again after they got chased off from a Pseudogiant nest by the mother of the pack, with their bodies intact, thankfully.

Now was completely different though. Now Chason chased some oddball (he used that term loosely) of a mutant that he’d never seen before. It could possibly have been related to a Flesh due to its four legs, or possibly a type of dog, but it seemed far too lean and tall to be either. It was marked with something on its hind quarters, was striped, and had…
‘Jewelry?’ He thought, finding himself confused at the sight.

The stalker decided now was probably the best time to take action, and did so by firing a tranquilizer round right at the rear of the creature. It tripped and tumbled over itself almost instantly and quite comically. The front legs dug into the ground and tried to pull itself away from the approaching human, but the drugs soon took effect and stopped all movement. Chason stepped to it cautiously and aimed his Martha at the downed animal for safety’s sake. Now that it had been stopped, he was able to get a good look at it.

Chason had travelled the world once with his father, seeing far off lands and meeting different cultures for a good portion of his childhood. In fact, he’d one time visited parts of Africa and seen the wildlife as well. From this experience, he easily recognized the animal as not a mutant, but a common zebra.

‘Or, at least as common a zebra can be in the Zone,’ he mused to himself.

It wore a Mohawk (he’d question that later), some jewelry around various parts of its body, was striped mainly on the legs, and had a curious looking mark on its flank. He poked it gently with a raised brow and the zebra stirred as a result. It opened its drowsy eyes just barely enough to look at him, and just enough so to show something that he didn’t notice earlier. It seemed sentient, just from how it stared at him. Of course, the drugs didn’t help his observance of it, but there appeared to be a type of lucidity hidden beneath the weary state of the eyes.

It raised its head slightly, “I was simply trying to flee; why did you attack me?”

He recoiled back in shock and kept his Martha aimed at it, “So, it’s true… I’ve seen it happen before, but you’re entirely different.” Once his surprise wore off, he lowered his weapon and kneeled down by the zebra, making sure not to let his fingers get close to its mouth. “I’ve never seen a mutant like you before, or those other ones for that matter. The fact two of you could speak fluent English is reason enough to take you back to the lab and study you.”

“Study? Me?” Its nosed wrinkled and it continued to speak in a very Okaidy-type accent, “What could I have possibly done to deserve this act of villainy?”

“Villainy? You have a concept of ethics..?” He pulled out his PDA and began taking notes down on the zebra, “Tell me, how is it you’re able to speak?”

When the human looked up from his digital assistant, he found that the creature had finally passed out from the tranquilizer round that it had received. He gently pulled out the dart and tossed it away into a nearby gathering of bushes not far from where he was. It seemed to make a whimpering sound as it hit some surface, but he was far too distracted to bother noticing. Chason hoisted the zebra onto his shoulders with a grunt and slung the rifle over his back while keeping his Martha in his right hand.

Finally ready, he began jogging back to the lab in order to bring the specimen he had retrieved. A nearby rustling caught his attention and his eyes darted around quickly to look for the source. He spun around to find what appeared to be wolves, one with the dart stuck in a hollow area where the eye would have been. One thing that seriously made him question his vision was the fact they were all made of pieces of wood. He stared at them in bewilderment for a brief moment and began to dash straight back to the lab while the wolves stayed in pursuit.

Remaining silent, one of the few remaining Clear Sky members leaped onto the mutant while it was distracted and sank his knife within its eye socket. The Docent, while normally a man of science, was highly capable of defending himself as well as fighting against humans and mutants alike. Suslov’s skill was a necessary asset for himself when he’d left the research labs following the creation of the C-Consciousness and it had served to keep him and his colleagues alive for a good amount of time as a result of it. Lebedev, however, eventually became an exception.

Suslov used his knife to shank the now-deformed hole repeatedly while grabbing tufts of hair for leverage. Once he realized he’d made enough room for his next experiment, he put his weapon away on his belt. Now, the Docent knew that even the greatest of discoveries could come from violence, if done properly and with a purpose. Today was the day he’d test a brand new theory on the thickness and hardiness of a new mutant species’ skull.

He pulled out an F1 grenade from his belt and shoved his entire arm as deep and far into the socket as physically possible. Without a moment’s hesitation, he yanked the pin, left it inside, and jumped off the mutant’s head. Suslov landed with a tumble and reversed around mid-fall. He quickly pulled out his PDA and began recording what was about to happen.
With a beautiful shower consisting of little pieces of flesh and bone, the skull of the mutant exploded into a monstrous storm, coating every nearby surface in a sticky substance. Bits of brain matter dropped from the sky and Suslov looked up, only for a piece to his him in the eye. He smacked it away and wiped it all while taking down notes on the effects of explosive materials inside of the skull cavity of a living being.

“That was… nice work.”

The Docent sat up and chuckled at Violinist, “The old Professor would throttle me if he ever saw me do that. It’s too bad Professor Lebedev isn’t here for this. He’d be able to tell you every single weak-point on that mutant just from observing us fighting it.” He sighed, “Say, where’s your friend? The one who’s in charge of the security on this little expedition of ours?”
Violinist helped Suslov up to his feet, “He’s getting another mutant.”

“He left us in the middle of an attack to retrieve a sample?”

“I told him to. I really don’t think a tranquilizer rifle would have done much against that thing, and besides, we don’t have a cage big enough for it either.”

Suslov nodded, “I see…” He looked at the odd creature laying in the grass a few meters away, “Come on, help me get this thing into one before it wakes up. I’m sure the others will want to study it.”

“Right, I figured they would,” The stalker replied, feeling tired all over again.

Strelok fell to the floor in a tired heap. The cold concrete underneath him gave little comfort to the stalker’s body, but he didn’t care. Now was the finale of his journey and now was the time to end the bastard science that was the C-Consciousness. Forcing himself up once more, the exhausted man lifted his AKM-74/2U and walked down the hallway as bright green lights could be seen further down. An unbearable weight was on his shoulders and he stepped forward shakily.

But as he got closer to the lab, a second wind came about his being. Each step became more purposed and his fingers tightly clutched the handle of his assault rifle. Strelok squinted from the light of the room but glanced around regardless, studying what he saw. It was undoubtedly the C-Conscious lab, as evidenced by the multiple stasis tubes and their occupants centered around several consoles that whirred constantly. The only lighting available came from a few dim bulbs and the green light the tubes gave off.

The AKM was cocked and he swung it around for easy aim. There was a moment of apprehension within him and he stopped to briefly consider his actions.

‘Is this the right thing?’

Somehow, he already knew the answer to that and began to fire in a sweeping motion, shattering the stasis tubes and killing the people within. He squinted once more and grimaced as he ended the lives of such bright minds that had stolen their fair share from regular stalkers. Fluids jumped into the air along with glass, but only the crack of his weapon could be heard.
The scene was lit up with sparks and flashes that reflected back at his eyes, but he simply reloaded and continued his onslaught. Surely, couldn’t this be considered euthanasia? Once again, he asked himself a question he already knew the answer to. After a short time, he stopped firing and lowered his weapon down to his hip. Strelok looked around and saw each body bleeding heavily. There were going to be no survivors. And yet, that didn’t seem to trouble him.

Another spatial anomaly twisted into existence nearby, only a few feet away from a nearby terminal. He quickly grabbed whatever documents, information, and physical evidence he could and stowed it into his backpack, dropping random items onto the ground to make room for what he’d collected. The stalker sighed and looked back at the tubes, feeling chilled at what he’d done. Despite that, it was established within him that what he had committed was necessary course of action that could better the Zone and humanity. He stepped through the anomaly without speaking a word.

It was, for lack of a better phrase, glorious to be alive. Strelok stood around, taking in the sights after landing nearby in a lively meadow. There were no mutants and there were no anomalies to be seen. A smile found itself a home on his face as he lied down in the grass. It was finally over. The infernal dream of riches and wishes and gold were gone forever. Now, everyone would know that it was all a lie. Everyone would know what he’d done and what proof he had now to show. His mind constantly returned to that single word: Glorious.

The sheer brightness of the sun was amazing and he hadn’t felt such warmth in a long while. Tall blades of grass ran over the meadow and lay there, just watching. He placed his arm over his sensitive eyes and replayed what he had just done over in his head again.

Speaking to no one, Strelok began to confess out loud, “I don’t know… whether I was right or wrong… I guess I’ll never know… But I made it. And I guess I should be thankful for that.”

He turned over onto his side and half-smiled wearily. A dragonfly he spotted hopped off from a blade of grass and flew into the air, high above the burned out stalker. His eyes slowly closed and soon enough, Strelok finally attained some well-deserved rest for himself.

In a remote swamp, Doctor stood among a barren landscape. Nothing but muddy water and a few stumps seemed to decorate any and all directions, but he kept looking nonetheless. While he was never quite good at showing his emotions, anxiety seeped from his character. Each action was less smoothened and far more forced than normal. This new area that had opened up, -Zaton, as he recalled- and it was relatively deep in the Zone when compared to other areas. His Pseudodog didn’t seem to mind it, and so he stayed a bit longer.

The dog panted and stood idly as it glanced in different directions. One of its eyes was bulging, but was held by swollen eyelids, preventing a good sense of vision. The brown fur matched well with the Zone’s environment and matched his own trench coat. Doctor fondly remembered the day he found it as a pup and raised it to follow him, to be his bodyguard, detector, and best friend. He looked back at the wastes before him and thought of the young gunslinger he had helped countless times before.

Doc spoke in a slightly raspy voice, “Mmh, I haven’t seen Strelok in a long time; is he dead already? Although, he’s as hardy as a cat. He should be okay, I think. Oh well…” He looked at his pet, “Well, let’s leave this place, pal. Let’s have some dinner. I know that you are more interested in that than our old friend.”

Having said that, he turned to walk back to his cabin with his Pseudodog trailing behind him lazily. It was going to get dark soon and they’d need to find shelter eventually. Doc trudged slowly, feeling just a bit older now that Strelok was gone. He’d always come to rely on him for help and now he realized how much he missed the young man’s company. Still, deep in his mind, he felt as though this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d seen the face he repaired. Such was how the Zone worked, and its mysterious ways would eventually reveal themselves in time. That, the old man was sure of.

There was an incessant dripping that constantly hassled the General’s ears. His thick, golden armor would most likely get dirtied after this raid, but that didn’t quite matter anymore. The eyes within him scanned around the sewers and found nothing just yet. They weren’t far enough into the sewers, but that was going to change very soon. His group of elite guards moved cautiously along with him, giving off a pitter-patter with each step as their hooves were dunked into questionable liquids. Some cringed, other remained stoic.

White Mark felt his hackles rise as a body fell from a shaft above and crashed into the stone ground with several loud snaps. It was a young stallion, probably no older than his teens, that dropped from such a great height. The body was bare and dry with marks on the back of the neck that led him to conclude that another victim fell to the bloodsucking monsters. After discussing it with the Princesses and other military personnel, it was decided to call these creatures “bloodsuckers,” in reference to their choice of attack.

Before the General was able to approach the body, several others fell as well. But no, these weren’t those of ponies. His eyes widened as what seemed to be at least four decapitated bloodsuckers fell atop the stallion, effectively creating a horrific mound of death. He grimaced but kept walking deeper into the sewers. After several minutes of walking, White Mark stopped and examined his surroundings. The tunnel they were in was wide and held a repulsive smell to it as he looked about.

One thing that caught his eyes, however, were several, tall and lanky figures that stood within the darkness of the corners. He immediately grabbed for his sword and held it with his teeth, each of his subordinates following suit. The unicorns set up defensive spells rather quickly and formed shields around their comrades while the earth ponies and pegasi took offensive positions.

White Mark grinned, finally happy to get some action after a long inactivity, “Right then,” he started, “let’s bring the murderers to justice, shall we?” A resounding cheer bellowed from the rest of the guards, making his smile wider, “Then… ATTACK!”

As he said that, the figures leaped from their hiding spots and did just as he commanded. The General’s guards fought with their swords and bows to great effect, repelling the group bloodsucke temporarily. The fight seemed over for a brief moment, but he knew they were simply regrouping. Only a handful had died at the hooves of his stallions, and none on his side were even so much as injured. It seemed surprising, but he knew that now wasn’t the best time to be questioning his luck.

He motioned farther down the sewer tunnel, “Alright! Let’s move out and clear the area! Come on, for the citizens! For the Princesses! For Equestria!”

Cheers were once again exchanged and White Mark smiled. Today was going to be a good day, and a successful one at that. But of course, he had forgotten one thing. His mind never recalled the other creature he had seen yesterday and he focused solely on the bloodsucking monsters. Little did he realize that the entire time, he and his guards were being observed by a certain bi-pedal creature.

Charon seized another skull as the ponies left and severed it, “It seems as though they’re beginning to adapt. Your guidance is wise, oh Monolith. They are learning, and it is because you have chosen to allow your divine knowledge to reach them. I shall watch them, and make sure your children do not become too unruly.”

He soon followed after the ponies, his footsteps as shadowy and silent as he was. Despite being brainwashed, even he too knew that all was going to go to hell soon enough. This made it all the more important that he prevent as many deaths as possible while he was here. But like a blowout, something foreboding seemed to be coming. He could literally feel the premonition aching from his bones. Such is life in the Zone, after all.

Author's Notes

Well, there you go, another installment of OaP. These chapters are getting way too long, shit's cray. Anyway, I introduced Strelok's part here, with the canon ending. If you didn't know about that one, sorry for ruining it, I guess. I felt as though I should cover that before going on. I included pictures of Strelok doing his thang, mainly because I had pictures of him doing things like that already. Chances are, it won't happen again because it's just too damn hard to find fitting images that work well with the story. Take note of how I stole that one with Doc off of Youtube. Very amazing skills presented right there.

Now, I've included two more characters from FiM that may prove for some interesting dialogue. They're obviously Gilda the Griffon and Zecora the Zebra. Also, Rest in Peace, Random ISG Troop, you will be missed.

Also, I seriously think I need a pre-reader/editor or some shit. It's becoming too much to read through all that shit again and keeping up with all my other work. If anyone's interested, PM me or some shit, because I'll appreciate the help.

I think that's all I have to say for now, so yeah, etc. etc. and other random bullshit you don't care about.

As Always,

Stay Trilla.

Chapter 5: When Legends Collide

Observation and Protection
Chapter 5: When Legends Collide
By: Stillmatic

“Long ago, before many of the evils that L.U.R.K. today, there was one so inherently evil and corruptive, none could stand up to His raw power. While His name is nearly lost from the annals of time and history, His legend of cruelty and gruesome actions have trickled down to those of this age. Many creatures, such as Discord the Devilish, Chrysalis the Corrupt, and Nightmare Moon the Never-Ending, take power and personality from His reign turned myth. Over time, they’ve come to embody such stories in their own acts, becoming the last remaining vestiges of the First Tyrant. While He was said to have been slain thousands of years ago by the early Equestrians, it was also mentioned that He would ultimately return once more along with the Darkness contained within His bag. However, such prophecies are subject to criticism due to them also involving an ambiguous character that was described as ‘having no relation to this plane of existence; a withering devotion, and colossal energy gifted to only those that were marked by impossible occurrences.’ While next to nothing is known about said creature, one thing is for certain: It doesn’t hesitate to slaughter those it deems unrighteous in its cause. Whether this mysterious interloper is a threat or an ally to Equestria is something that remains to be seen, should or if it ever decides to arrive. Nonetheless, Tirek the Tyrannical would once again resurface, ready to plunge Equestria into a state of destruction.” – Legends of the Pre-Discordian Era, Author Unknown, from the Canterlot Royal Archives

12:05 P.M., Canterlot Market District.

Star-Spangle, a sergeant in the Royal Day Guard, was never one for civil disobedience. Twice already he’d been reprimanded for using violence to quell the citizens that he believed needed such treatment. The situation he was in now was completely different as he quickly kept pace with the alicorns beside him, realizing such tactics would mean him most likely spending the rest of his life in a dungeon in the middle of nowhere. The stallion quickly looked around nervously, trying to spot any threats as the Royal Pony Sisters cantered towards the alleyway where Royal Guard operations were being conducted to clear the sewers and waterways.

“Plea—“, he dodged a celery-stand, “Please, Your Highnesses, it isn’t adequately safe to be in any area other than the Castle. Creatures may come out from the sewers and attack, Goddesses forbid.”

Princess Luna held back from using the traditional royal Canterlot voice, not wanting to be bothered to use it on such a pathetic excuse for a guard, “We shall forbid, now stand down and resume your post.”

While her sister was troubled at Luna’s harsh tone, she found herself proud that her vocabulary was becoming more in-tune with this millennium. “We’ll be fine, now do as she says.”

Star-Spangle reluctantly stopped and watched as both alicorns continued to the stallion-hole the General was returning from. They stopped and spoke to the various guards moving about with equipment, such as swords, shields, and other necessities to purge the sewers. One guard saluted as Princess Luna asked him a question.

“Guard, what is the situation down below?”

He looked at the other guards for a moment, seeing that most seemed a bit traumatized while only one or two were able to shrug off any feelings, “We’ve come in contact with two types of creatures as of the last hour. Both have a similar structure, but their postures are completely different, as well as their intelligence and tactics.”

Celestia gave her sister a look, “Two, now? Do you have any you could show us?”

The guard nodded and barked and order to several others, who retrieved body bags stacked behind a nearby dumpster residing in the alley. Both the Princesses seemed to droop at the sight of such a sad sight, despite the fact that these were the very same creatures attacking their ponies. The guard from earlier unzipped the longer one to reveal something the Sun Goddess had never seen before. The body shape was similar to a Diamond Dog, but its design was much taller and leaner. Its ashy, grey skin looked almost entirely moistened in its own blood with several large cuts across its chest and the parts of its head peeling back revealed breaks in the skull where the brain resided.

Celestia nearly gagged, covering her mouth and motioned for him to close it, “Please, that’s enough.”

He did so. “As you wish, Your Majesty. Would you like to see the other? It seems to be fighting against the previous ones in a territory war.”

“Yes, but close it the moment I give the signal.”

The guard placed a hoof on the zipper and pulled back. Unlike the last creature that was shown, this one was significantly odder. It appeared to be wearing a large mask over part of its face and dressed in unorthodox clothing. The jaw on it hung loosely by a mere tether of muscle, allowing for both Princesses to see the corroded and foul mouth within. A putrid stink wafted into their nostrils and Princess Celestia motioned her hoof once again, having seen enough. He quickly closed it in order to not disturb her any more than he already had.

“Horrid….” Celestia muttered, pressing her right hoof to her mouth in a bid to keep her lunch down. She took a few deep breaths and looked towards her sister, who was still staring at the body bags before her blankly, “Luna? What’s the matter?” She placed the hoof she just used on herself towards her sister’s forehead, feeling for a temperature, “Are you sick? Do you need to vis—”

Luna pushed the hoof away, not truly paying attention, “Sister, what would you say if perhaps I saw either of these before? Long ago, before this situation?”

The guard from earlier wanted to back out of the conversation, thinking it wasn’t right for him to be part of it. In his mind, it would be an insult to the Princesses to simply be listening in on what could possibly be a private conversation, but he knew it would be worse to simply walk away without being ordered to. He remained where he was and tried to focus.

“Sister…” Celestia now stared at Luna, “What do you mean? You’ve seen these before?”

“The night after I was exorcised of Nightmare Moon, I had a dream of a strange place, one that would make Equestria pale in comparison.” Luna seemed to drift off as she spoke, “… It was fascinating to see how all those beings interacted with each other, but bothersome and frightening.” She glanced at the Sun Goddess before staring back at the body bag in front of her, “Have you seen, while I was gone that is, creatures driving out monster-like creations with exploding tools of destruction while also slaughtering each other, all in the name of monetary gain?”

Celestia, due to her caring nature, felt a twinge of pity towards whatever it was her sister saw, “Killing…? For money?”

“Yes,” Luna nodded, “In fact, it seemed that they’d rip off parts of each other to sell as ornaments or as research purposes. If this is certain, a much more intelligent species had killed another of its kind; it would desecrate the corpse and steal whatever it pleased before leaving it on the ground to either be picked apart by animals or to rot. Such was life there, it seemed. Yet, there was an order, despite the apparent chaos amongst the beings.” She just barely smiled, “Massive groups, coming together for common goals and helping one another in order to preserve a sense of peace, despite knowing full-well of all the dangers lurking nearby.”

Princess Celestia wasn’t entirely sure how to react to what her sister was saying. Could it be possible that her imagination had created such a thing? That it was merely a dream and not a vision of some distant land where uncontrollable interaction, killing, and greed were the mode of operation for its inhabitants? It seemed far-fetched that even such a place could exist in this world, let alone any other. While the Princess had seen her fair share of bad experiences with violence, she was ignorant of the farthest boundaries of malice and chaos, despite having met Discord on more than one occasion.

Luna continued, “But that’s not to say that these groups didn’t fight with each other, Sister. There were several that blatantly attacked others without provocation and two in specific feuded considerably, leaving casualties in every direction. It’s interesting,” she mused, not noticing the abhorred look she was receiving from both the guard and Celestia, “these creatures, not the ones before us, but the much more social ones spoke amongst each other, helped each other, murdered each other, and simply shrugged it off as normal day-to-day occurrences. It truly makes me wonder what it is that allows them to be so.…”

“Detestable?” Celestia interjected. “If they’re willing to simply take the lives of others without reason or consideration, then they must simply be savage animals.”

“Sister, they seemed to be far from animals as I saw them. I didn’t see their motives or reasons, but I did see their dreams.”

“Dreams? What exactly did they have dreams about?”

“To put it simply, nearly all of them had horrific nightmares that wouldn’t allow them to sleep properly.” Her ears shifted downwards, “In fact, some died from the shock they received during their sleep.”

Celestia, sensing something was wrong, nuzzled her sister, “Luna, you did nothing wrong, nor did you do anything to them that would cause their nightmares.”

The Moon Goddess didn’t even flinch and continued to keep her eyes on the corpses, “… That may not be true, but I won’t know for certain until I capture one myself and interrogate it personally.”

“As I hope you will, Your Highness,” a voice called from nearby. General Whitemark exited the stallion-hole and bowed alongside his subordinates, who soon got to filing paperwork on their actions down below, “Your Majesties.”

Luna rolled her eyes, “No need for such formalities, General, we need only to speak about the current situation.”

He nodded, “Yes, I had prepared a packet of information regarding these creatures and the autopsies, but I think you would rather hear it from myself instead. But Your Highness, I must ask something regarding your dreams.” He internally winced, just realizing what he had said, “I apologize, I had heard some of your conversation from below. Captain Polaris used a spell to increase my hearing capability.”

Before Luna could say anything, Celestia cut her off, “It’s fine, General; please, ask your question and she’ll answer to the best of her ability.”

Princess Luna gave her sister an annoyed look for essentially putting her on the spot, “Yes… feel free to ask, General.”

Whitemark cleared his throat, “Princess, have you happened to see a creature, by any chance, that walked upwards, with a metallic carapace?”

She frowned, “There were several with that very same description. Please be more specific.”

He bowed his head in self-admonishment, “Yes, Your Highness. It was dark brown, with large boots, metallic objects attached to its sides, some form of full-headed helmet, and a weapon capable of firing small projectiles, as well as creating explosions.”

Luna considered it for a moment, taking in the information. The description was still vague, as she had seen a few like that, but one in specific came to mind. There was a large facility, teeming with activity but it seemed both time and space had been distorted somehow. The air had been perverted and masses of energy coalesced in random areas. The creatures jumped through them, but only two seemed to have been worthy of notice.

One was wearing a thin-layered suit with the hood upwards. Still, she could easily make out the nasty cut on his face, and she shivered at the thought of what could have caused it. It had been running and literally wiping out all resistance in its path by itself, despite being severely outnumbered and stuck in a hopeless situation. She aptly named it “Running One.” It had managed to jump through several blue vortexes of energy before it disappeared entirely.

The second was hulking in stature, but surprisingly enough, far more silent. Whatever it was it had the same description as what General Whitemark had given her, furthering her suspicions. It ran madly in an attempt to stop the previous creature, but to no avail as the other faded from existence. Yet, it flung itself through regardless, also becoming nonexistent in seeable reality. Her dream cut off there and forced her awake. Looking back at it, she almost regretted not telling Tia of it. Almost.

“Why yes, I know exactly of the one you’re talking about, General,” Luna replied coolly, “I would go so far as to say I’ve seen it interact with others and hunt down one of its own.”

Celestia got close to her sister’s face and gazed at her with a hurt look, “Lulu…” she whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me you saw all of that? I could have helped you get through it.”

Luna’s face suddenly went deadpan, “I believe the Princess of Dreams can effectively control her own, as well as her emotions, in any given situation, Sister.”

Despite what she had just heard, Princess Celestia pinched Luna’s cheek and smiled, “Oh, how I love it when you try to be strong for your big sis.” Her smile grew as Luna sighed in mock exasperation, “Mother and Father would be proud to see how capable you’ve become.”

Luna’s expression softened significantly, “Tia… it’s good to be back…. Now, let’s prevent more casualties and keep Canterlot safe.”

“Actually,” Whitemark spoke up, “We’ve only had three actual casualties so far within the ranks, and only two wounded. While it is still a significant loss, statistically speaking, it pales in comparison to their numbers. The last count led us to twenty-four dead creatures, combined.”

Luna glared at him coldly, making him shiver ever so faintly, “General, even a single loss of a life on our part is a tragedy, not a statistic!” She spat. “Now, lead us into the…” The Princess looked at the stallion-hole and shuddered, “Sewers, so we may investigate ourselves.”

He bowed, “Yes, Your Majesty. Please, follow me.”

Celestia nudged Luna as they trotted behind the General, “You didn’t need to go and snap at him like that. He is trained to see deaths as numbers and not actual lives.”

“Well, I don’t like that one bit!” Luna snapped back while they headed down the stairs, “Surely we can provide empathy training to the Guards.”

“Empathy?” The Sun Goddess gave her a look, “For soldiers? Who would possibly kill if the situation called for it in order to protect Equestrian citizens?”

Luna rolled her eyes, “When you put it that way, of course it sounds silly. Then again,” she bumped hips with Celestia and smirked. “You would know about that wouldn’t you, Sister?”

Princess Celestia bumped back, “Don’t think I’m so old that I’ve lost my ‘fun,’ Luna.”

Whitemark suddenly stopped and looked around quickly, as if trying to spot something, “Princesses, I don’t believe it to be—“ His ears cocked up higher, “Hmmm… speaking… i’ve never heard such a language before….”

Princess Celestia quickly casted a spell that would, in most cases, allow for universal translation through a magical tether between minds. His eyes lit up for a brief moment and he listened, letting the words sink in. The General’s jaw sank slightly, but he quickly shifted it up in order to maintain his appearance.

“I hear two voices… one older, gruff… the second significantly younger.…”

“What are they saying?” Luna asked, hiding her frantic tone.

“They’re having a discussion about something called an ‘anomaly’ that resides nearby, supposedly. The older one is suggesting the other protect him while he ‘deactivates’ it by taking something from it…. It mentioned something about ‘Beads.’”

“Beads?” Celestia asked incredulously. “They’re after simple beads?” She put a hoof to her head and shook it, “This can’t possibly be happening… murders, over small trinkets? What has this world come to?”

Luna cleared her throat, “They might not be from this world, Sister. For all we know, this ‘anomaly’ could have brought them here.”

Whitemark’s head quickly recoiled back in surprise, “Well, I’ll be… the older one just ordered the younger one to not attack anypony lethally; only what it called ‘mutants.’” He turned back to face the Princesses, “I believe this would be our best chance to restrain and capture them.”

Princess Celestia nodded, “Very well, lead the way, General.”

He nodded and galloped towards his destination, his ears serving as a guide. Both Royal Pony Sisters kept pace with him and followed by his side along with several other guards who had just arrived. Neither Sister knew of what was to come, but it was always in everypony’s best interest to be prepared. Still, both felt something was severely off in the air, and it definitely wasn’t the sewer water that stained their shoes. A certain aura clogged the area, making them tense. Celestia had a feeling things would get out of hand.

“Yes, this one is odd, isn’t he?”

One scientist looked at his colleague from over his shoulder, “Are we discussing this now? We need to subordinate him immediately before he gets loose again.”

“I believe we’ve found the new head of this little ‘faction’ we’ve created, don’t you think?” the first asked, eyes on the unconscious man lying on a table.

“Oh? For what reason is this one any different?”

“Because, this…” he checked the PDA of the stalker and glanced at the profile, “Mercenary Scar could prove quite useful, especially since he managed to fight all the way here and destroy a military attack helicopter. I think that’s fitting enough for the position, don’t you?”

The other pulled a surgical light down onto the body and placed several electrodes on the Mercenary’s forehead, “Let’s get this over with, then. We’re wasting time.”

“Tsk, look at these readings… the blowout just now; it’s completely energized his body to the point of super-human ability….” The first scientist looked between the clipboard and man frequently, “While everyone else was either killed, knocked unconscious, or zombified from that blowout, he was the only one to still be standing and healthy, I might add.”

“He’ll be useful. Now,” the second pushed away the lamp, used tape to hold back the Mercenary’s eyelids, strapped him down, and pulled down a brainwashing monitor towards his face, “Let’s make ourselves a new guardian.”

They got to work, making sure the process was complete within only an hour. By that time, the Mercenary was no longer a stalker, nor a sensible person. From that day forth, his name would be feared throughout the Zone. He was the Highest Preacher of the Monolith, Charon.

Charon extended his arm out and tried to grab onto the Mama’s Beads within the anomaly. This one was by far the rarest he had ever seen. In fact, this particular anomaly was the progenitor to the Space Bubble, which eventually became more common than the “Time Machine” as it was called. Despite significantly slowing time from hours inside to minutes outside, the health of whoever stepped in would usually never retain any ill side-effects, unlike most other anomalies.

It was considered to be one of the few miracle anomalies within the Zone and had once, when it existed, functioned as rest stops for any stalker capable of spotting them. Mutants and other anomalies would refrain from getting within at least fifty or so feet of the anomaly, for reasons no one knew. However, greed became its downfall, as stalkers readily snatched the Mama’s Beads within them, effectively deactivating the anomaly and destroying it. It seemed that despite the Zone creating anomalies on a regular basis, there were only a limited number of Time Machines to exist.

The Monolithian glanced back at his subordinate down below. Ten feet below him was a newly-indoctrinated rookie who was not incredibly impressive. He was devout, yes, but what good was a soldier for the Monolith if they couldn’t even fire properly at the non-believers or mutants? Entirely shameful, was what it was.

Charon stood on a relatively low catwalk, trying to grab the artifact within the Time Machine. In order to prevent further leaks, he learned he needed to destroy the anomalies producing them. A sixth sense alerted him that this one was close to maturing, most likely soon to become a Space Bubble and allow mutants through. The Leader leaned over the edge and grasped for the object, but it floated a mere foot away from his gloved hands. The fall below would cripple any mutant that came through, other than a bloodsucker or snork, but that still left too many possibilities. Leaning further, he threw his arm once more to grab the Beads.

Then, a flash of light threw him back against the railing, staggering him heavily. Thankfully, the goggles provided with his exoskeleton were more than enough to block out what would normally be blinding. Shafts of lights twisted and darted past and into the Time Machine, which fizzled loudly. It was already happening. He lurched forward once again and barely restrained himself from jumping over to grab the artifact, but pulled out as another force shoved him back roughly. Charon glanced about and concluded it wasn’t safe to be near an unstable anomaly such as this one. He quickly made his way down using a nearby staircase and met the other Monolithian as he hit the bottom.

“(We’re moving back to the tunnel,)” he stated in his utterly charismatic, monotone voice.

“(Why?) The rookie asked.

Charon, a protector of divinity, had no time for such impotent and foolish questions as he jogged down the tunnel away from the large area he was just in. Each step launched murky water back up at him and soon the rookie was nearby, practically sprinting to keep up. Despite his age, Charon still was one to be reckoned with. They stopped halfway and the Voice turned around, hoisting up his Vintar BC and crouching low. The other Monolithan stood up, a mistake, and aimed his Viper towards the area further down.

It seemed especially quiet for a few moments, before ghastly howls echoed through the sewers. Several dozen snorks, more than any stalker had ever seen together before, dropped down from the Space Bubble and landed effortlessly. Neither Monolithian flinched, but their scents eventually came into contact with the highly feral, highly sensitive nose of the snorks. Nearly all of them flipped towards the two simultaneously. Despite being fairly strong mutants, their lack of intelligence and extreme reliance on natural instinct proved to be their downfall as an F1 grenade was tossed directly at the group’s front.

They disregarded it and clambered forward until it exploded, instantly launching several of the mutants and parts of them into the air before crashing back down into the water. Unfortunately, that still left quite a bit more, and Charon had just used his last grenade. Without hesitation, he began firing, eliciting his younger comrade to do so as well. The mutants were cut down quickly enough, leaving only a few stragglers limping their way pathetically towards the two. Charon, being the reputably cold stalker he was, proceeded to smash in the heads of the surviving snorks with his boots.

“What now?”

He prevented himself from rolling his eyes and turned to the rookie, “Take our prizes.”

The younger stalker watched as the veteran tore off the feet of the snorks using a knife, snapping the highly elastic tendons with a jolt. He only took one foot for each mutant and was soon carrying quite a lot. Only a scientist or highly desperate stalker would be able to tell you how a mutant bit tastes, or what it does to the body for that matter, but Charon was no stranger to biting off bits of a monster’s eye or boar hoof.

Those parts always tended to be the most nutritious and least radioactive, along with other positive or negative effects. Dining on a snork foot at the right moment could save you in a grim situation, if you could manage to stomach it down. While most were unwilling to touch that specific part, Charon had no problems with it. Plenty of stalkers were turned off by the prospects of eating what was once a human being, but there was no complaining amongst the Monolithians. You ate what you were served and gave no complaint, completely trusting of whatever it was you found or were given. Still, the rookie watched countless heads and feet dangle off of Charon’s body. It was a miracle in itself that it didn’t encumber him.

“Do you enjoy the taste?” The rookie asked, hoping to start some kind of conversation.

Charon, however, wasn’t up to it. “No.”

He took the hint and kept quiet, watching as his superior tied his prizes together to his body using wire. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Charon was a living mass of different body parts stolen from the dead. Still, he remained where he was and didn’t speak. The rookie began to follow once Charon had begun to walk away, but something caught his heel. He shouted for help once before succumbing to a blow that nearly liquefied his shins, causing him to drop to the floor. A cracked, faded gasmask stared down at him and the last thing he saw was the gnarled mouth of the snork open and release a low, guttural growl.

Charon looked passively at the scene, not all that bothered by watching the newly arrived swarms of mutants maul his subordinate into a bloody pulp. The screams ended all too fast, implying either his head was literally crushed or his jugular was torn out and prevented any more. It occurred to him that he was still in pouncing distance, however, and he ran farther into the sewers, the snorks giving chase. He’d have to bide his time and continue until he found a more suitable spot to alleviate their disease of living.

“Princesses!” Whitemark hissed, “It approaches quickly!”

Each of the Royal Sisters readied their horns for anything that may pop out, despite not having had the need for them yet. That being the case, they didn’t want a single mishap to occur when it was necessary that they attack. The General’s ears perked up towards the direction in front of them before flicking back down. He grunted as pain shot through them from an incredibly loud noise coming from around a nearby corner. Then it appeared, splashing water as it came towards the end of the tunnel opposite of them.

Several creatures were also following it and as it turned the corner to run towards them, it suddenly took notice of the Equestrians. It reeled back and tried to do a quick turn but was cut off by a tackle from one of the monstrosities chasing it. Celestia quickly cut off its only route of escape through a magic barrier while they watched the interloper do a dance of sorts. The fluidity of its movements, the sheer skill it stepped with, and the relatively ominous way it knew each move the creatures surrounding it would take left them in awe.

It appeared passive at first, with simple ducks, dodges and half-spins, but it turned deadly quickly. It grabbed the legs of one of the monsters and proceeded to use it as a bludgeoning tool on the others. That is, before they all simultaneously leaped at him. The Princesses, White Mark, and several guards saw the creature go down under the weight and lose itself in the countless bodies swarming over it. What had really caught them off guard was a single thing, however. Out of seemingly nowhere, a voice rang through the entire sewer systems.

Charon was already waist-deep in snorks, but even he knew this was getting ridiculous. While snorks were deadly adversaries in nearly all regards, they were absolutely brainless when it came to their ability to tackle anything that was significantly armored, much like himself. Their claws weren’t able to tear through the fiber or dig within his neck, as opposed to them being able to do so with anyone else without an exoskeleton. Still, it was more than disenchanting to watch as countless snorks literally rubbed themselves over you and growled like dogs.

Despite the needlessly loud vocalizations however, he heard something ring off of his PDA. His integrated HUD displayed the radio message as coming from an unregistered source, which was fairly common due to the members of Monolith barely ever using radios due to their innate telepathy with the Monolith, which essentially guided them. Still, that single message made him go limp.

“MERC! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! WE’RE GETTING SLAUGHTERED OVER HERE!”

Charon’s pupils dilated. He remembered that. He had heard that more than enough times in the Zone. But that couldn’t be, he was a Monolithian, not some Mercenary! His mind raced to understand what was happening within, but it came to the same inconclusive results. There wasn’t a single possibility that he was… not who he thought he was. He had always been Charon, Highest Preacher of the Monolith, and Voice of the Holiness itself.

Right? He questioned it for but a moment, but that’s all it took for all of his mental defenses to come crumbling down. Charon had begun to doubt his most sanctified thoughts, and soon a flurry of such speculations occurred in his mind. It was impossibly frightening to him to have even considered such things, and fear gripped him as he wondered what the Monolith would do for such blasphemy.

Then, everything within his mind snapped like a rotted twig. There was only a stagnant, lingering thought that drifted aimlessly. If he was, in fact, who he was now realizing he truly was, then what atrocities had he committed during the time he had been brainwashed? Who had he killed? What did he order? All those questions were suddenly shoved back as Mercenary Scar’s face started twitching, with an impulsive, feral rage taking him over. Suffering an identity crisis and realizing what he had done, Scar’s psyche cracked apart, leaving him no different in thought pattern than the mutants crawling over him.

Several snorks were launched off of his body as he forced himself upwards, both hands clutching the windpipes of two separate mutants. The exoskeleton improved his strength astoundingly, allowing him to smash both of their heads in and make the gasmasks containers of a revolting stew. The mindless creatures ignored the deaths of their comrades and attempted to kick him to the ground in an effort to topple him once again. This time, however, he was prepared. He dropped a corpse and kept a grip on the legs of the other, getting ready to use it as a bludgeoning tool.

Scar brought down the scabby, flesh-deficient body on the snorks around him, preventing them from reaching him for a few precious moments. The Mercenary tossed the fresh cadaver away like trash, opting to use his knife and boots instead. Several snorks leaped at him from one side, and it took only one carefully placed back-hand to displace them from their spots in the air. A familiar cracking sound was heard from two of the four. His eye caught a few more attempting to kick in his legs, which he immediately responded to.

His most used form of attack was once again put to the test, as his stomps literally tore apart the mutants beneath his feet. Spines were dislocated, heads were severed, and quite a few bodies lay dead in the sewer now. Before him was only a single snork, crawling forward as if testing his reactions. A labored breathing was heard from behind, and he quickly assessed his situation and devised a solution. The mutant from behind pounced onto his back and raised a hand to bring it back down upon his helmet. Of course, when it was grabbed and used to bring down the other who just jumped, it wasn’t able to do much. His knife found itself imbedded into two humanoids as he kept a foot on each of them, finishing them off entirely.

Scar’s breathing was erratic and even in his enraged state of mind, he found it near impossible to breathe properly with his helmet on. He tore it off and threw it to the side on dry ground, letting it roll along with the built-in mask. Several splashes were heard as he fell to his knees, only propped up by his hands in the dirty sewage. The rushing sound of water died down and he was finally able to concentrate. Scar dragged himself over to a nearby wall, removed his equipment, and felt faint. His blurry vision caught the forms of several creatures he didn’t recognize, but he ignored them. After all, they seemed to make it a priority to only watch from a distance.

The grizzled man felt something jab at his hip, which he pulled out. It was one of the most useful tools within the Zone: the PDA. He turned it over in his hands before looking at his reflection on the screen. His silvery stubble and buzzed hair still resided on his head, but what caught his attention were his eyes. Greyness stared back at him in wait, considering what the next course of action was. Bobbing his head tiredly, Scar attempted to force himself from sleeping. The amount of energy he had used throughout the past few days had taken its toll, and now he was finally paying the price. Within a minute, he was fast asleep, completely oblivious to the menacing entity nearby.

White Mark squinted, “… It… fell asleep? Here?”

Celestia trotted forward a few meters before turning back to her companions, “Be on your hooves for this, it might jump up at any moment.” She was nearly within ten feet of the creature before her muzzle hit a red wall of magic, making her recoil back in shock, “What on earth—“

“Sister! Get back!” Luna called out.

From beyond the magical barrier, a bubbling matter began forming on the sewer floor. An inky blackness with hints of red and blue emerged, moving upwards and higher until it contorted into the bare shape of a pony larger than the Princesses. However, no neck formed at all, only to be replaced by the upper body of a creature similar to the one lying on the ground. Massive muscles and a sinister smile were the most defined features by that point, but it continued to morph. In less than a few seconds, the inky colors took their places on the body and gave the creature an identity to the ponies before it. It was, without a doubt, the last surviving centaur in the world.

The newcomer shook his head, flinging splotches of color off of his body, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Corona….”

Both Princesses went wide-eyed and share looks, “Mother?”

The centaur looked them up and down before coming to a conclusion, “I see… that tramp had children, did she? I should have assumed as much, what with her meddlesome ways and her need for preservation.” He clicked his tongue, “No matter, neither of you children will be able to stand up to me.”

Luna stomped her hoof in rage, forcing the sewers to shake. “Don’t you dare speak of our mother that way!”

“Who are you?” Celestia yelled at her new adversary.

When he heard that, the half-breed looked quite surprised. His eyes took in their looks and examined what might be their weaknesses given their attitudes. One seemed younger, weaker, and far too easy to manipulate. The other, however… it was stronger and would require him to at least break a sweat. No matter, it would all work out beautifully for him in the end anyway.

“Oh, I’m nothing other than,” he gritted his teeth, “the arbiter of Death and Corruption! How even you simple-minded ponies managed to forget me! Lord Tirek! Quite impressive how feeble your mental abilities are!”

Luna’s ears dropped down against her head immediately, “T-Tirek..?”

“The only, and the one who’ll finally purge this world of you despicable scum. Through my reign, all your kind shall simply be exterminated and replaced by my own creations. Won’t that be wonderful?”

Celestia, starting to lose her nerve now, narrowed her eyes, “How are you alive? You were killed thousands of years ago!”

“Oh yes,” Tirek answered, watching his hands as he rubbed them together absently with a smirk. “I did die. But now… now I’ve been subjected to something! Energy like no other I have ever felt or seen before! Like others, this energy resurrected me, but unlike them, I was fully capable, if not more powerful than before!” He clenched his fist and stared down the ponies, “Once I’ve disposed of you, I’ll bring that same energy here along with more of those,” he pointed to the bi-pedal, “who I’ll force to do my bidding and clean this planet. A whole world of those, and I’m able to snatch them at will! Imagine the destruction!”

“You’re crazy!” Celestia growled, “We won’t allow you to do such a thing! Nor will we let you use them as pawns for your sick intentions!”

He guffawed, “You really believe that someone as weak as you can stop me, let alone any one of my future minions? Your abilities are mediocre at best and I do believe that it’s finally time to kill both of you.”

Tirek simply lifted his right hand, and something happened beside both Princesses. The two guards that had escorted them were not to be found, but only parts of them lying about along with the once golden armor, now coated in blood. An eyeball rolled its way to Celestia’s hoof and she retched at the sight, holding a hoof to her muzzle. Luna was unfazed and stared down the evil centaur, hatred in her eyes.

Tirek took notice of Luna’s glare and gave her a wary look, “Quite interesting… quite like your father as well. It’s a shame he died a coward.”

The Moon Princess snapped, gritting her teeth and nearly barking at the centaur. White Mark, who had been standing in front of the Princesses, now looked back and shrunk at the site of Luna seething with an intense anger. Celestia herself was just as worried for her sister when she noticed her eyes were taking a darker hue. All of it, along with Tirek’s laughter, was brought to an end when the tunnel shook, sending dust and small fragments of the stone ceiling down. White Mark looked around for the source, but found nothing. But sure enough, something approached.

An eerie, red light was coming from the end of the tunnel, past the corner. The sound of a distant explosion going off resounded loudly and the area shook again, this time with more power. Tirek’s mood instantly turned to a sour worry, as if his plans had suddenly been disrupted.

“WHAT?! NOW OF ALL TIMES?”

The magical shield fell to the ground and quickly covered Tirek as garbage and other rubbish was kicked up from the end of the tunnel along with a large gust of wind. The bloody glow grew brighter and approached faster and faster until a wave of dust, dirt, and intense energy came barreling towards the group. White Mark growled under his breath, knowing full well that a pegasus had no way of throwing up a barrier to protect the Princesses. Luna, however, already saw this coming and wrapped the three of them within a tight, blue bubble.

The flood of red energy forced its way through the tunnel and rushed past the centaur and ponies, each feeling a distinct tingling through their magic, but leading to no other effects. Luna struggled to hold the shield as the raw power of the wave wore her down. Sweat began to bead on her forehead and her legs began to shake spasmodically from the strain. Right as she began to feel herself give way, a golden bubble surrounded them, bringing in a motherly warmth. Instantly, both Luna and the General relaxed, not realizing it was a side-effect of the older Princess’ magic. Soon enough, the wave of energy died out, atomizing every non-organic thing in its wake. Any rats or other living beings in the tunnel were now dead, skinned, and charred heavily.

Tirek, using this as an opportunity, put a temporary barrier between him and the ponies, one that wouldn’t require his concentration. Celestia let down her own shield, feeling nearly exhausted from the act. She didn’t realize how draining it would be to maintain a barrier powerful enough to hold out against the unknown activity that had just ran rampant around her. It was now obvious in her mind that neither she nor her sister could fight in their current states. The only viable option would be to retreat and find this demonic centaur another day, something she loathed the idea of.

But it came to great surprise to all three ponies when the creature from earlier proved its dogmatic will to persevere by standing up fully, reaching well over an imposing six feet in height. Its appearance was now vastly different, and each of the ponies, despite being near collapse, could make it out. There seemed to be severe damage, but none were certain as to how hampering it would be.

The armor the bi-pedal wore was now scorched in several spots, but that was fairly negligible. What were truly astounding were the visible parts of the skin on its body. A red energy glowed from within its neck, ebbing through each vein and travelling upwards until it twisted around the head. Its jaw hung, a misty breath heating the otherwise frigid, underground air. The neck muscles visibly expanded until it became more and more threatening in stature. Lastly, the eyes were the main focus of the ponies. Redness seeped from the sockets and the eyes themselves had an unnatural, otherworldly glow to them. A lump in the throat pulsated once brightly, before the creature licked its cracked lips.

Tirek, noticing the looks from the ponies, turned to the now-standing Mercenary. He cocked an eyebrow up at the sheer ignorance of it before letting a low, rumbling laugh out. The centaur sneered and clicked his tongue.

“Really now, human? Is this what you do? Stand up when your master hasn’t given the order to do so? Be the dog you are and sit!” Tirek threw his hand down, attempting to magically pull down Scar. However, nothing happened and the Merc just stood there, breathing heavily. “What?! How is this possible?” He attempted it several more times, each one providing no result.

The stalker lowered his head slightly, glaring at the centaur with bleeding eyes. With Tirek’s actions so far being used as provocation Scar pulled his signature weapon forward, his Vintar. Tirek had seen these weapons in action before, but his bodily structure, muscles, and fortitude would easily block the objects it discharged, along with his magic. Scar had different plans, however, and replaced his current magazine with that of armor piercing rounds. While he was completely unable to control himself, let alone in the mind state to do so, Scar was left to the instincts instilled in his mind via Monolith brainwashing techniques, making him an adversary to be reckoned with as well.

Tirek grinned wickedly as bullets flew at him, only to crumple and fall to the floor as they hit his shield. Though, his cockiness faded when one managed to penetrate through, colliding with his shoulder blade. A red hand slapped to the area that was now stinging increasingly. Blood was dripping downwards and matting his fur as more bullets sank into his body, each biting off a little bit of his overall well-being.

He looked back at Scar and snarled, “You’ll die for your insolence! None attack Tirek the Tyrannical and live!”

Scar didn’t exactly know who he was or what he was doing due to the massive cloud covering his mind and leading his actions, but it was fairly obvious to his predatory and feral senses that this human-esque like thing in front of him wanted to possibly hurt and damage him, something that he would not allow to happen. A fireball slammed into his chest, knocking him over and melting some of the exoskeletal frame. The Mercenary rolled to the side, dropping his Vintar next to his helmet and dodging another orb of flaming gas.

A third was sidestepped, making Tirek growl in frustration. He knew he could easily defeat the human, but the fact he couldn’t grab it was the most infuriating part. How could it be possible that his telekinetic ability wasn’t functioning against his new enemy? It was madness! He continued to launch fireballs regardless, wanting nothing more but to end its miserable life then and there. Yet, it dodged them like nothing. Ducking, sidestepping, and several other moves were displayed in front of him, each successfully making his attacks useless.

It was at that time that Scar made his move. The exoskeleton sprinted forward, each servo motor working rapidly to increase the amount of force that each stride let loose. Tirek’s eyes widened as Scar plowed through him with a tackle, knocking the centaur into the questionable water. A kick from the floor sent the human flying back against the wall, giving Tirek a chance to stand up again. A fresh scowl was cut across his face as he raised his hand. A literal bolt of lightning appeared in his palms, which he flung forward.

The blow struck Scar dead-on, staggering him back a few steps. He leaned his back against the wall as motor function ceased for a few precious seconds, giving Tirek the upper hand and a chance to buck him. While an exoskeleton was an extremely powerful, durable, and trustworthy piece of armor, it wasn’t able to fully absorb the blow the centaur’s hooves delivered. Several ribs snapped inward, but Scar merely shrugged it off as the electrical shock wore down.

Tirek, who was gifted with the sight to determine his foe’s overall physical health, was left flabbergasted at what he saw, “WHAT!” Scar’s body was rapidly repairing itself, fixing all damage the centaur had caused. “IMPOSSIBLE!”

However, what wasn’t impossible was Scar rushing forward again, which Tirek foresaw. He braced himself and dug his hooves in, ready to take the impact that never came. Instead, Scar leaped onto his back, landing like one would do on a horse. Tirek’s face fell, as he was confused at first, before an unfathomably deep fury surfaced, enraging him. The act itself was detestably insulting, especially to him. He wasn’t given an opportunity to comment however, when a knife was sunk into his windpipe. It was dug in, sawing through his neck hastily and severing various pieces essential to him living.

A bag was torn from its strings, letting it drop to the ground below. It, unfortunately, contained a rainbow of pure corruption, capable of turning any creature into a minion of Tirek’s and a doppelganger of their former selves. As it hit the floor, it burst open, launching the rainbow forward at a specific target and tearing down the barrier that Tirek had set up. Princess Luna, who was recovering her energy, was hit by the dark energy fully.

She screamed out in pain as the corruption twisted into her body, digging within her veins and attempting to pump itself into her heart. Her own willpower held it back significantly, but drained her own energy as well. Celestia knew full well what was happening; her sister was being forced to revert back to her former persona of Nightmare Moon. She pushed White Mark, who was attempting to block the corruption from his Princess, away and used her own magic to combat the black mist forming around Luna.

The Sun Goddess winced under the strain, “Luna! Please, if you can hear me, don’t let it take a hold of you! Fight it!”

She received a grunt in response, followed by a few words, “I-I’ll try… hurry.…”

As Celestia worked to help her sister, White Mark glanced at the battle, biting his lip in anxiousness. Things looked extraordinarily grim, and he was far more afraid of one of his Princesses suffering than either of the creatures fighting in front of him. Yet, a quick look surprised him enough to grab his attention and hold it. It seemed that despite the incredible power the centaur had, it wasn’t enough to defeat the highly-energized bi-pedal. Even the General, who was a pegasus, could feel the intense surge of energy emanating from the human.

Both of Tirek’s arms fell to his sides, along with his jaw hanging limply. Scar removed himself from the centaur’s back and delivered a kick, knocking his enemy over onto his side. Quickly, the superhuman effects of the blowout faded away as consciousness came back to the Mercenary, who devised a plan to finish off the now defenseless, demonic demi-god. His knife was once again used as he cut open the belly of Tirek, swiftly slicing before stowing the tool away. He felt his own energy dwindle, but forced himself to finish what he had started.

Both the Princesses, who had watched the fight with varying degrees of emotions (horror, mostly), cringed at the sight of what the human was doing. White Mark waited, ready to spring at moment’s notice should the creature try anything against him or the royalty beside him. But it was once again Scar who captured that attention of all. A compartment on his waist opened, and out came an oddly shaped object that glowed like a golden sunrise, specifically noticed by Celestia. White Mark nearly had to force himself from bowing from the all too familiar rays of light.

The Night Star artifact was truly a magnificent piece of work by the Zone, yet now lost purpose to Scar due to there not being guns where he was, that much was obvious. The radiation it gave off was unwanted, making the item a burden at best. So it was with lax restraint that the Merc began twisting it in his hands, sticking his fingers into certain areas, twisting them in, and using the artifact as if it were some sort of alien machinery.

His efforts proved to be successful as it lifted into the air, gravity losing focus of it. It spun several times before Scar grabbed it with one hand and stuffed it into Tirek through the gaping stomach wound. He backed up and leaned against the wall, grabbing his fallen equipment. The centaur was near to death and couldn’t focus on what was happening. The only thing that had kept him alive this long was his willpower to survive, which was shortly ended as his body literally warped inside of itself and imploded in a shower of body parts and organic matter.

The Springboard anomaly had come to life through the Night Star’s activation, destroying the artifact in the process. An air ripple was now formed, humming distinctly to Scar’s ears. One thing in particular that the Equestrians noticed was the bag was also destroyed as well, preventing the corruption from further influencing Luna. She let out a sigh of relief as the rainbow’s effects left her body, before the misty energy tore itself from her, severing all ties. Celestia glowered at it before it snarled loudly and sped off from the sewers incredibly fast.
The Sun Princess felt an immense weight leave her body as the nightmarish energy fled from the scene, now knowing its master had been completely obliterated. The ponies nearby stood in anxious revulsion, not wanting to get in the way of the creature that single-handedly wiped the floor (and made part of the floor) with the dark centaur. The only evidence that Tirek had ever arrived was the occasional bit or piece of his now lost body.

Luna stood back up again tiredly, done observing the battle and victor. There was no intervention for good reason, and that was to eliminate Tirek. While she was a pacifist at heart, she knew it was far more convenient and safe to simply have any extremely powerful enemies to stop existing, unlike her sister that believed all were redeemable. It was admirable to feel that way, but it wasn’t sufficient in protecting everypony and Luna therefore felt relief hit her as she realized how Tirek met his own demise. The dark-blue alicorn looked forward, wondering what to do next with the creature before her.

Scar slumped against the wall, taking several deep breaths to calm himself. All of his movements were shockingly stiff, which he soon realized was an after-effect of being subjected to a blowout. A sullen feeling passed over him; the Mercenary was now one step closer to either death or zombification. He honestly didn’t know what was worse, but he’d have some time to figure that out later, along with what he had been doing for the past few months. Now it was time for his escape. Scar slung his Vintar over his shoulder and shoved his helmet under his arm, not quite ready to put it back on yet. With certain haste, he began speed-walking away with the curved wall of the sewers serving as a place to lean.

Princess Luna, however, wouldn’t let it get away this time, “General! Subdue it immediately!”

White Mark sprang into action without question, flaring his wings and floating a few feet in the air. Taking a moment to prepare himself, he shot forward at high-speed. His front hooves connected with the back of Scar’s head, sending both forward to the sewer water. The Mercenary had long been awake and was finally drained of the last of his energy. The blow to the head slowed the world down considerably as his hands grabbed at the ground, trying to pull himself away from his attacks. It was hopeless, he knew, especially when a hoof connected to the back of his head again, sending him into unconsciousness.

It would be fair to say that Princess Celestia, a kind and just ruler, was shocked at the order White Mark executed. It would also be fair to say she was more shocked at her own sister, who she hadn’t expected to give such a ruthless command.

Worry along with annoyance laced her voice, “Luna! What on Earth were you thinking?! It slayed Tirek and you turn on it?!”

“Sister,” Luna frowned but remained regal, “It proved itself even more dangerous than Tirek by killing him. Why would we ever let it go if it was capable of that? You saw what it did and had at its disposal. Dozens of Equestrian lives could have been taken before it would have been defeated if we hadn’t captured it while it was weak.”

Celestia begrudgingly accepted, “You’re right, Luna, but we aren’t wild animals! We’re capable of reasoning with it, attempting to talk to it at the very least! We may have gained its capture, but we’ve lost what little trust there was in the first place.”

“Acceptable loses. We can’t win over all of our enemies, Celly. We’re going against an entirely new series of threats and we need to act accordingly in order to resolve them.” The Princess of the Night turned to White Mark, “Get several teams down here to clear the area and retrieve this creature over here before it wakes up. When you’ve got it within castle grounds, put it in a cell within the dungeon until we’re able to determine its motives.”

The General saluted, “Yes, Your Highness.”

He moved away from the unconscious human and flew off to an open stallion-hole to get reinforcements. Princess Celestia watched as Luna stretched and examined the bi-pedal creature. She didn’t like frowning, not at all, but now was an appropriate time. The older sibling felt what was happening with her sister and once again had worry creep into her being. Her sister was getting older and more mature, and there was nothing she could do about it. She only hoped the lessons of morality, fairness, and friendship that she instilled in her sister would rub off. Though, who knew what would ultimately happen?

6:46 P.M., Everfree Forest West

It had been nearly seven hours since the attack on the bunker. There were no casualties, but it left several guards out of commission for varying amounts of time. One happened to be Violinist, who pushed himself forward in the face of a controller and finished it off with several rifle butts and stabs to the face, effectively destroying the only significant method of attack for the humanoid mutant as well as its life. The man won in the end, but the controller left its mark for the time being. Violinist, for the past six hours, had been suffering from short-term, temporary zombification.

Given their names, it was fairly well-known that controllers were capable of using mutants and humans alike as puppets, but some strong-willed stalkers and fauna could usurp that control and act freely for a short time. The post-battle usually resulted in something dead on the floor, with the controller being the loser in this case. Violinist managed to kill the mutant as it began to take over his fellow ISG Troops, but at a cost he could recover from. Still, the memory was fresh in everyone’s mind, especially the scientists.

Doctor Wexler, however, was less traumatized by the experience. He was in the lab, fortunately for him, and wasn’t present when the controller climbed through the still unrepaired hole within the fence. It was a bit saddening to know that a mutant had breached their security, but the way every single Troop sprang into action to completely fill the controller with lead was pretty breathtaking. He could easily recognize the amount of experience, training, and coordination each carried on their respective belts, along with their impressive teamwork abilities.

Getting back to what he was doing previously, Wexler focused directly on what he wanted to do the most at the moment: collect data. He exited the confines of the lab in his ecological protection suit and went through the fence; ignoring the Troops he passed by. They gave him looks and motioned to escort him, but he waved them off, claiming that they would contaminate his samples. He did, however, ask that they cover him with support fire from the newly-constructed watchtower. They obliged, scouring the area with binoculars and sniper scopes as well as occasionally radioing the doctor.

Wexler pressed forward, exiting the clearing and moving towards the tree line. A radio message from the watching guards warned him of getting too far away or moving under the cover of trees. But something tantalizing presented itself just inside the forest, resting against a tree trunk. It was an artifact hopping around on the ground, bouncing merrily on its way somewhere. The object in question was a simple Jellyfish, but it was still worth something to him. He pulled out his standard-issue ISG Universal-Detector along with a Martha, ready for anything that may jump up and surprise him. When nothing came out, he walked forward and yanked the artifact up greedily, taking it into his palms.

That’s when a loud hissing sound flew at him. His eyes widened in fear as a black mist crashed into his face, shattering his curtain helm inwards and sending pieces of it into his face. Wexler attempted to scream, but the mist quickly covered his mouth to prevent that. He felt it force itself down his throat, not caring as it stretched it beyond normal capacity. The blackness settled inside of his body, spreading itself out like a cancer. The doctor fell to the floor, convulsing several times before remaining still.

A nefarious grin crossed his face slowly, “Hmm… this… this is new. And I like it….”

His PDA vibrated strongly, prompting him to remove the device and check the email he had received. The scientists’ eyes scanned the document, narrowing before he grunted in confusion. There on the screen, was an email unlike he had ever received before. It was cryptic, yet clear as well. If there was some sort of symbolism or type of idiom he didn’t recognize, it was most likely somewhere in this message.

Title - Ach.: Pursuer of Results
Time - 19:42

“You’ve proven you know what to do in all situations, and your natural intuition on the necessary choices that need to be made for the better has served you well. While there are those can criticise you on your methods, there’s no one that can downplay your success. Through all of this, you find yourself far more capable to do what must be done and influencing others to follow along.”

Wexler jumped to his feet, ignored the PDA message, put the device away, and stretched dramatically, chuckling to himself as his fear disappeared. Things felt so much more right, for whatever reason. He felt right. Things were more right. And he’d make sure those things remained right, as were his orders. Wexler gave a bark of laughter before strolling back to the bunker for medical treatment. After all, he couldn’t pluck out all those shards of helm himself, could he?

It mattered not; things were beginning to look up. Though, he didn’t realize what had happened to him or if anything did in fact happen (he couldn’t quite remember). Wexler also didn’t notice the sinister force within him now, hell-bent on helping him pursue his ultimate goals regarding this U.N. expedition. While he was unfamiliar with the Zone, he was no stranger to the violence that accompanied it.

Such was his life, and such is how he’d attempt to secure a victory for his benefactors. This, he knew, was a necessary evil that would benefit everyone. Wexler would sleep with no trouble in his heart tonight, completely content with the grim future beset on everyone else. After all, who could criticize him for simply doing his job? A necessary evil, he reminded himself, a utilitarian one at that. As he headed inside the lab, catching the attention of everyone, a smug smirk found itself at home on his ever-knowing face.

Author's Notes

I bet all you motherfuckers didn't suspect I was still working on this, didja? Well! You were completely right. Turns out summer courses demand more work than I realized and completely fucked me over big time, leaving me unable to push out content for most of my fics. Anyway, all that bullshit is in the past, for now...

Mysterious, right?

It's all whatever, but you know what isn't whatever? That chapter I uploaded last, which, essentially, was a filler chapter composed of all the original characters' prologues/first few chapters. I can't recall if there was anything important in the author's notes then, but I'm fairly certain there wasn't anything. To wrap all of this up into one, tight little sentence: I fucking hated it, but I didn't expect such strong reactions, and to compensate, I'll delete it and replace it with this. To add to that (I lied about one sentence), I do plan on eventually uploading this onto Equestria Daily, as much as I dislike them. Hell, advertising my fic is all I need from their asses, but it was you, my semi-faithful viewers/readers who made me realize I fucked up massively there. From what I've seen those fellers over there dislike simple things and mistakes for the most part, and one big one like that chapter will sink it entirely.

Ight, I promise I won't lie this time, this is the serious wrap-it-up version: Last chapter's going down, this one's taking its place, let's smoke some piff, watch shit fly.

Also, it appears there are people who actually read this (surprised some even do) and have never played STALKER. Well, one suggestion I have is buying it during the Steam Summer Sale, or if you're not interested, read some Wiki bullshit on it. This also means I'm probably confusing the fuck outta people, to whom I apologize for fucking with you so bad you felt the need to cry. Here, have a tissue. No, really, you can keep it. Reason I'm bringing this up is because of Charon really being Scar. If you haven't played Clear Sky or Shadow of Chernobyl, you won't know of the striking similarities both stalkers share. While it may not be entirely true, I've always personally believed Charon is Scar, and I decided to put that here in this story.

Tirek was put in as well, who was a character from the first gen of MLP. I needed a villain who was really fucking evil, so I used him. Little did he know what a badass Scar was.

Another thing, if anyone gets the reference to that "message" Wexler got, good for you! If not, it's a goddamn achievement, only available in Call of Pripyat. I originally planned on having them because I liked breaking the fourth wall with how STALKER works with its interface. Obviously Wexler is in tune with his inner-stalker, much like all of you should be.

Lastly, when I gave this a Nightmare Moon tag, I didn't mean her specifically, but the spirit that was her, in some sense. That mist was in fact the "spirit" of NMM, but more so a wandering entity hell-bent on possessing the person with the strongest desire to do something. I probably shouldn't say any more than that.

I don't think I have much else to say other than that it's taken almost two months to push this shit out. Didn't feel like that long, but I'm pretty time-insensitive. Hope you enjoyed this installment of OBSERVATION AND PROTECTION Z!

As always,

Stay Trilla.

Chapter 6: Facts

Observation and Protection
Chapter 6: Facts
By: Stillmatic

“If it’s hostile and dangerous, kill it. If it’s dangerous, but not hostile, go around it. If it’s hostile, but not dangerous, ignore it. If it’s neither, you probably have larger problems to worry about, so get to it. Remember, don’t waste bullets on something that can’t or won’t bother to hunt you down.” – Loner’s Guide to the Zone, Survival Tip # 22

The air, being cold and damp, was a factor in waking up the sleeping zebra on the ground. Despite having become used to the diverse weather in the Everfree that disregarded seasons, the chilly wind blew in through the enclosed space and warped around, making Zecora stir further. The process was slow, but she eventually returned to reality and away from the nightmare that plagued her. It was of a creature that stalked on two legs, capable of running at her speed and bringing her down to a state of unimaginable weakness. She shuddered at the terrorizing dream that seemed so real.

The large, turquoise eyes opened fully now, looking around lazily in slight wonderment as to how her recent bouts of sleep-walking managed to drag her into a cave of all places. She shivered again, nearly cursing the early morning wind and spotted her supply satchel nearby. Though feeling incredibly well-rested, there was an abnormal stiffness in her body as well, and something worthy of notice was seen as she inspected her joints. Across her once pristine, gray coat, was matted down and smeared with shades of red, ruining it. It took a few moments to register in her mind, but once she realized what it was that covered her chest, the herbalist reeled, kicking her way back against the wall, as if it would make the marks disappear.

Zecora gagged, fiercely clinging to her right to hold down her last meal and forced it all down, hyperventilating at the sight. Truthfully, living in the Everfree Forest usually meant watching the carnage and hunting that went on, day by day, but she was never close enough to witness the blood being spilled on herself. Her ears flapped down in worry. The liquid had to have come from somewhere, and her body wasn’t wounded in the least. Her line of sight drifted to the left until the source become apparent, lying against the wall.

It was true, then. There was no vivid nightmare, it all had actually happened. From what she could tell, the creature that was both her capturer and savior was sitting on the ground, back against the wall and unmoving. A tainted smell, some sort of sickening mix between metal and stomach acid, wafted into her muzzle, forcing it to wrinkle in response. A look at its chest made the perpetrator obvious. Vomit covered the area well, bringing a tan color to an otherwise drab mixture of others. The skin (or what seemed to be the skin, she couldn’t accurately tell) was torn in several places over the body, from the shins to the abdomen and arms. Blood leaked freely, already caking the floor with its red tint.

Zecora’s heart beat faster, with her hyperventilating dying only a fraction in her effort to quiet down. It wasn’t apparent, but a somewhere within her mind, she felt as though a small, blue bar with dozens of notches lowered significantly, still raising and lower with each movement. The zebra approached the body carefully, the only noise coming from her hooves gently brushing against the dirt and her breathing. Her arrival wasn’t much to speak about, but as she craned her head forward in attempt to hear any sort of air exchange, there was something else that caused her to stop in her tracks.

Eyelids opened, revealing tired, brown eyes. The lackluster spheres darted to her immediately, but settled down as they registered her. Zecora swallowed a lump in her throat, hoping it wasn’t obvious. Unfortunately, it was, and the creature before her gave a look before snorting lightly. It reached forward, wincing as it bent to reach something on the other wall of the cave. She looked, seeing what looked like a small package, with pink and blue pills protruding outwards. Its arm fell to the side, hanging limply.

“Would you please get that for me?”

It spoke. It actually spoke to her, and in a surprisingly friendly manner, though desperate. She trotted over to the package, looking over her shoulder several times to make sure it wouldn’t sneak-attack her while she was turned. What the herbalist saw, however, was quite different. Whatever this animal was, it was close to death. Blood still seeped out, and more interestingly, its dirtied, brown hair was falling out in certain places. Her eyes widened at the sight, but she grabbed the package in her mouth and returned it as professionally as she possibly could in such a surreal situation. Zecora, a wise and amiable spirit, knew should could easily run away, leaving it behind. Yet, she also knew that doing so would go against everything she ever prided herself on. She stayed.

The creature took the package from her mouth and broke it open, releasing the three pills inside and removing a hidden syringe within. It took a few deep breaths before rolling up what was revealed to be a clothing sleeve on its arm upwards, allowing for more ease of access. It grunted in disdain, which she assumed was caused by the fact that the veins seemed nearly nonexistent due to the low blood pressure. Several slaps to the injection spot revealed it well enough that the needle was able to find a nice vein to push an unknown liquid into.

Zecora felt the need to intervene, but restrained herself when it raised a hand. It pulled the syringe away and threw it to the ground before opening its own satchel and removing what looked like a metal can. Assuming it was hungry, she sat down on her haunches and continued her observation. A click and a hiss came from the object as the three pills were downed along with some liquid from within the can. It emptied the rest into its mouth after it made sure the pills went down and tossed the can.

Placing hands onto the ground, it lifted itself up, wincing in pain as it slumped against the wall and huffing loudly from the exertion. No sooner had it reached two-thirds of its height had it fallen to the dirt in a heap.

“I… I hate radiation poisoning… and bleeding too…”

Zecora swallowed her fear and crept closer before resting a hoof reassuringly on its shoulder, “You’d be wise to lie back and rest, for your health, it’s best.”

It twitched, but didn’t turn to her, “… You can actually talk… How is that?”

Such a question undoubtedly seemed odd to her ears, but she answered regardless, “A zebra I am, but you-“

“Are a man.” He said, finishing her rhyme for her. “How can a zebra talk? There are no zebras in the Zone… The only thing I can think of is those extinct Tarks… And those were just carnivorous and reanimated horses.”

Zecora’s muzzle curled down slightly, “What is all this you speak of, and why do you spill so much of your own blood?”

“It wasn’t like I really had a choice.” The man muttered. “The bleeding should die down soon, and I’ve already taken a super-coagulant.”

“That response didn’t answer my first question, and doing so would be the best course of action,” The zebra replied warily.

He turned to her and lied back against the wall, staring at her and panting lightly, “You should explain where I really am first. I can already tell this isn’t the Zone, so just where exactly did me and the rest of the ISG end up?”

Realizing that the stubbornness she was receiving wouldn’t subside any time soon, Zecora sighed and took the initiative to properly establish contact with a species she had never encountered before. Somehow, she felt as though this would become a very harrowing, stressful task.

“I know not of what you speak of, ‘man’, but I can provide the information you demand.” She cleared her throat, “The land you now reside in is Equestria, a country of ponies-a-plethora. Nothing such as you has ever been seen before, so please forgive my stares and not become sore.”

He nodded, “It’s all fine, just continue.”

“We are in the Everfree Forest, a place of danger and mystery that demands you be cautious. Few ponies can reside here without losing their nerve and running to what the find dear. As you can see, it has gained quite a bit of infamy.”

Zecora could very faintly see the confusion. Her explanation was far too easy to comprehend, so she assumed it was merely her rhyming that threw the creature off.

The confusion quickly turned to thoughtfulness, “It couldn’t possibly be any worse than the Red Forest… What were those things? I’ve never seen any sort of wolf like that before, let alone one made out of wood.”

“That creature covered in filth was known as a timber wolf.”

“… Timber wolf… Because it’s made out of wood…” She nodded. “They can bite pretty hard.”

“Yes, I noticed your cuts. I advise that they be treated before getting up.”

The man shrugged slightly, “If I had any bandages, I would, but I didn’t bother bringing much with me other than what I had left over from the day before.”

A bright idea hit Zecora, though she became slightly reluctant to fulfill it. Forcing herself to reach into her satchel, she removed several homemade bandages constructed from dried leaf pastes and set them next to the creature expectantly. He looked between the her and the wraps at least twice each.

“… What am I supposed to do with leaves?”

Zecora frowned, not enjoying his tone, “These are special bandages, creature, meant to help your wounds heal faster.”

He sighed in resignation and got to work, thinking over his situation as an unknown creature watched him in curiosity. Things were definitely not going in his way at all today, though things seemed to be looking up a bit. Zecora continued observing, and found he knew how to wrap his wounds quite well. While there was still a tension, it seemed to simmer down as a mutual silence filled the cave.

“So, you haven’t seen him then?”

Edgar Vicks was a man of short patience, so when he was presented with what was essentially the same question multiple times, he found himself irritated. Doctor Diederich had been pestering him every other hour regarding the supposed head of the security team that disappeared the day before. He didn’t blame her that much though, even he found it a bit troubling to know that the person who was in charge suddenly left, only for the second-in-command to be struck with psi-shock. On top of all that, an ISG Operator had his entire head bitten off by some strange, new creature.

He found it too odd. None of the ex-stalkers said they had ever seen something like what they killed before. It was large, terrifyingly so, and honestly resembled the textbook lion if it weren’t for the incredibly large, bat-like wings and scorpion stinger. That’s what seemed to trouble all of the members of the security team the most. For reasons he didn’t understand, they seemed to have some sort of mix between fear and extreme hatred for anything regarding scorpions and their appendages. When he asked why, his only given answer was something regarding a group called the “Renegades.”

“Well?”

Vicks groaned, breaking away from his thoughts, “No, I haven’t. Why would I have seen him now and not twenty minutes ago? Why do you keep asking? If anything, he’s probably dead out there by now.”

“Don’t say that!” Diederich admonished, “He’s supposed to be guarding us and we’ve already lost one permanently and other temporarily.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled the zipper upwards on his SSP-99M Scientific Suit. It was no surprise he didn’t know the actual difference between the varying suits other than color, but this variation was supposedly used by guards on scientific expeditions. The bright, green color was less than desirable, but from what information he could scrounge up about it, it was far more durable and much more inclined to hold out against attacks of any kind. It made him wonder what exactly the U.N. thought they would be getting into that would need such expensive commodities. Obviously, if they were willing to pour more money into their protection than to the scientists who already occupied the Zone, something was off.

Vicks pulled the curtain helm on and fastened it before presenting himself with open arms, “Well?”

Diederich sipped her tea and sat back down, “You look like a bright green garbage bag with a shiny piece of tinfoil at the top.”

The reflective surfaced prevented her from seeing his grimace, “Really, you’re oh so hilarious. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to look around a bit after checking on that giant bird-thing.”

“Don’t stray too far from the bunker. We haven’t seen many anomalies near here, but that doesn’t mean one won’t pop up suddenly. And mutants, too.”

“If I needed someone to nag me, I’d have brought my mother along.”

Diederich shrugged her shoulders and returned to testing a sample retrieved earlier. Vicks continued out of the bunker, passing a towering Okaidy, who seemed far too invested in watching Suslov’s Droplets artifact bounce around on a table. While it was interesting to see some rock move about with no external influences, it definitely got boring after the first five minutes. A shake of the head and large door opening later, the arrogant Englishman was outside and nearing a cage. Two guards were posted nearby, remaining surprisingly stoic despite the large danger behind them.

“Anything, yet?”

The member on the left thumbed back towards the cage, “Moves around a bit, but not much else. It seems to keep to itself for the most part.”

Vicks hummed in response, focusing more on the strange creature huddled towards the back of the cage. Large, feathery wings folded over above itself, casting shadows over the actual body and preventing him from seeing what was truly there. Sharp, glowing eyes of yellow stared at him hatefully, but he didn’t recede one bit. After all, his mother seemed no different than this thing did to him, and he survived eighteen years of living with that “harpy.” He smiled softly at the memories but shifted closer.

The scientists pulled a tape recorder to the curtain helm, hoping the screen wouldn’t distort his voice much, “Subject is reclusive and chooses to remain in the back of the cage, covering itself with large, feathered wings. Whether the thing is doing it in fear or-“

The creature lunged forward, slamming itself against the bars and clutching them with its claws, “FEAR?! You won’t know what fear really is until I get to you, you dumb ape-thing!”

Vicks landed backwards roughly in surprise, hitting the ground hard. Flanked by two security personnel, one aimed its weapon menacingly at the creature while the other dug an arm under his shoulder and dragged him back while still keeping his firearm up. Vicks himself had a Walker P9m up and directed forward, ready to utilize without fear of the consequences. While he was caught off guard, he couldn’t consider himself all that afraid of what he saw. It was, essentially, a large turkey with claws, as he would put it.

“Subject,” he continued, “is moody and liable to explode in anger.”

The avian somehow gritted its beak, “Moody? You-“ It was now seething in anger, “You… You stupid… whatever you are. You don’t got a reason to keep me here, so lemme out!”

Vicks, genuinely interested, held the recorder out, “How can you speak?”

It narrowed its eyes, “Listen, bub, I’m not an idiot. I can speak just fine and I don’t need you thinking I’m dumb.”

“I never said that. What are you?”

The bird-like creature backed up slightly, pulling its claws off the cage bars, “A griffon, what’s it to you?”

Vicks paused and reached into his pocket, only to remember he was wearing the scientific suit. He muttered a few words, recalling how he had a small patch that he was planning on sewing onto his laptop case. It was of a griffon’s outline on a crested shield that his sister gave him a few weeks prior, only to sit around in a pocket and suffer a few washes. The Englishman turned his attention back to what was apparently a creature of myth.

“Griffon? Griffons aren’t real. They’re just myths.”

“And what are you?”

“Human.”

The avian seemed to be smirking, however small, “Who’s the myth now, huh? Humans are bedtime stories.”

It was at this point that Vicks’ interest truly became piqued. So, the conversation continued on for a few minutes more, until an interruption occurred, one that would prove to be a different experience entirely for the man.

Wexler, for it was worth, like to watch things and see them play out in front of him. This is what was happening as what he had been told was a Pseudodog fought viciously against two invading creatures that were unrecognizable at first glance. Wolves, seemingly made from scraps of wood, were showing great amounts of hostility towards a Pseudodog that refused to leave its position within the forest, though already wounded considerably. For whatever reason, it stuck to its spot and seemed intent to fight until the very end, which would most likely result in its death.

Though, the mutant itself was no pushover during the whole debacle for sure, and it tore off parts of the wolf-like creatures easily. This would leave it open, however, and usually allowed for an attack to be made by the other. Wexler heard the sounds and proceeded out of the hole in the fence, ignoring the two guards that escorted him without a word. They too watched with interest, or some desensitized amusement, and let the battle continue until the Pseudodog finally collapsed on the ground, whining for a few seconds. This inevitably led to its throat being bit out by the sharp teeth of the wolves.

Wexler sat on a rock, fingers intertwined and supporting his chin, “Get rid of them.”

The guards obliged and opened fire upon the wolves that were a mere five meters away. They were gunned down quickly, crumbling into piles of sticks and other debris. All of this seemed to catch the attention of another member of the ISG, a scientist whose attitude was less-than-stellar in most regards. Finding his way through as well, Vicks settled against the fence and tilted his head slightly to get a better view without moving forward. Wexler glared icily at him, but it wasn’t noticed.

The American finally caught what was captivating the other scientist, hearing what sounded like yipping and whining. Vicks slowly moved forward, one hand clutching a pistol as he moved towards the bush the dead Pseudodog laid next to. Moving away the branches revealed a single thing to him: a puppy. More importantly, a Pseudodog puppy, one that immediately pawed itself away from him and the harsh sunlight of the clearing. He wasn’t exactly sure what to feel at the moment, yet he reached out regardless, ready to pick up the small pup.

His hands froze as something whizzed by, striking the puppy in the ear and tearing a hole straight through the tip. In a moment of instinct, Vicks snatched up the mutant and flipped around, fumbling with the creature that scrambled around in his arms. Neither of the guards so much as lifted their weapons, leaving only a very irritated Wexler standing between them with his Walker outstretched. The American’s face twitched several times, a deep scowl cut across it.

“It’s a mutant. Put it down.”

Vicks tightened his grip, “No.” After seeing the other scientist narrow his eyes, realization hit him. “Wait… What happened to your stutter?”

Wexler flinched slightly, still holding the weapon, “All better. Either you kill it or I do.”

“Just try it, Americunt.”

“Should’ve expected some bleeding heart acts of compassion from some British faggot. You don’t even know what you’re doing. You’re putting at risk-“

“At risk? It’s a bloody puppy, you stupid inbred!”

Both ISG guards turned, the crunching of twigs and leaves tripping their senses. Their barrels met a familiar face, who grunted in pain and shoved them away. Chason stood wearily, walking-stick in hand and some sort of zebra by his side. His suit was torn heavily with bandages visible from underneath. The tranquilizer rifle was strapped to his back, waiting to finally be put back into the armory. He scanned over the scene in half a second, already knowing what occurred.

“Pseudodogs, if that’s what you’re talking about,” he began, pointing a finger at the puppy, “don’t carry disease. They’re immune to even rabies, not that they can effectively transmit anything. They actually make good companions.”

Wexler clicked his tongue, not bothering to hear anymore. He left through the hole and headed back inside of the bunker, leaving the others to stay where they were.

Vicks stared down at the mutant that tumbled around in his arms, “People actually… keep these as pets?”

“Yes. But I’m not sure if you want to keep it. They grow to adulthood in…” he seemed to be wracking his brain, “… I think it was a bit over a week.”

“A week? That can’t be right, dogs take months to become full-sized.”

Chason started towards the fence, “A dog of the Zone works in mysterious ways.” He nodded forward at the zebra by his side, “Come on, there are a few questions I’d like to ask, and I’m sure the others have some as well.”

Zecora nodded, “As you wish, human. Though I hope this doesn’t lead to any ill action onto a simple shaman.”

After a short and convincing response, both headed towards the bunker. Chason greeted and waved off several other Operators, and some seemed to become uneasy around the equine. He knew all too well why, and anyone who was around in the Zone long enough to remember that reason felt chills run up their spine. While the Zone of Alienation held a marvelous amount of diverse and unique life, many species eventually died out and faded from existence. More likely than not, his new acquaintance reminded them of one specific mutant that was the bane of stalker life so many years ago.

Vicks shrugged off the speaking zebra, already having experienced a conversation with something far more interesting. He looked down at the puppy in his arms and back at the mother nearby. It was almost saddening, but he didn’t care all that much for it. However, the young dog he was holding was a different story entirely. Whether it was some sort of deep, hidden feelings of seeing a vulnerable youngster or just his emotions acting unusual, he still felt something. The need to protect what was actually quite hideous was no less than bewildering to him, but he still tightened his grip regardless. He followed Chason and Zecora, stopping near the dead campfire while the others headed inside.

It was fair to say that Zecora, being from a land of lush plains, bright days, and simple yet cultured architecture, was amazed at what she saw. Beyond the tall, metal fence was something else entirely. Massive objects protruded from the ground, settling themselves in and jutting out. Towers sprung upwards, giving the humans (as she learned to call them) a view of the nearby area. What she could only describe as building were scattered about, with more of the bi-pedals moving between them. She received the odds looks, yes, but her awe left her too floored to feel untrusted.

Chason limped forward, putting more and more effort into finally getting towards the metal base they had placed for them. He passed by the vehicle station, seeing the beige BTR reflect some sunlight through the several holes decorating the station’s exterior. Eventually, he arrived and moved to open the door, only for it to swing open and ram into his face, specifically his nose. He felt the bone displace along with some blood and he fell back, landing on the ground groggily. Pain was a primary factor in him seeing spots, and his force of will was the only thing keeping him from passing out from exhaustion.

“Oh, I apologize for that.” A dark man stood over him, sunlight preventing the veteran from seeing who it was, “I didn’t expect to see you alive. I also apologize for that as well.”

Okaidy reached down, large hands grasping Chason’s nose. The smaller man gasped in pain for a brief moment until he felt the fingers snap his nose back into place. The Tourist felt queasy but remained awake enough to ask a question.

“Did they teach you that in medical school?”

The African responded as he pulled the Slav upwards, “They taught it to me in the LRA.”

Chason became confused, “I thought you said you were from South Africa?”

“Not originally, friend. Another story for another time, however. And even though you seem to know more than what I’d expect from a person born in a small village, I won’t further this discussion. Have a good day.”

And with that cryptic response, Okaidy went onto other business around the area. Chason dropped the stick, leaving it outside as Zecora tailed behind. The cautious zebra treaded lightly into the bunker, marveling at the structure. Metal-working was a fairly unused skill from her homeland, yet this entire abode was made of the substance. She could only wonder who exactly she was dealing with here, and how advanced their technology was over her own. The human stopped, and she ran into his lower-back before he turned his head half-way.

“Wait here, there’s something I have to take care of.”

She simply nodded and watched him go through a doorway. Chason threw his backpack off onto his bunk and tiredly undressed from his tattered suit. After struggling with a broken zipper and being forced to cut open his suit, the man threw on a pair of work boots, jeans, and an olive-green turtleneck. They were plain clothes, but they did everything he needed of them. He exited the room and nodded towards the zebra, who quickly got up and fell into step with him. Her ears flapped down as the screech of him opening the bulkhead filled the air.

“I wish someone would oil this thing already,” he remarked. “It would make this much less disturbing.”

“I must admit, your use of metal is interesting, but I never considered being in it.”

Chason stepped through the doorway, “We’ve come a long way.”

As they entered the main laboratory, the unlikely duo caught sight of three different scientists, with only Dr. Diederich actually working. Kalancha and Suslov stood off to the side, chatting over some tea and leaning their backs against the wall. Their eyes instantly turned to Chason as he walked in, both surprised and relieved to see he was still alive. Then they saw what looked like an inaccurately colored, disproportionate zebra trotting in from behind. Docent Suslov felt the tea spill from his mouth, landing right back into his mug.

Kalancha’s face, one that was normally kind, was stoic, “I see… Interesting specimen, young man. I’ve never seen a Tark of that size or color.”

Long before most stalkers had entered the Zone, the first few were left in unimaginable situations of desperation and hardship, almost always accompanied by misery and failure. These brave souls who ventured where no human had ever gone before constantly ran into mutated animals of amazing breeds. One such animal was originally a regular, wild horse living its life in the fields. This all changed following the Second Disaster, and as far as anyone knew, all the horses within the Zone died.

Though, the energy of the Zone did its work, twisting and resurrecting these wild beasts and contorting them into ravage machines of hostility. Tarks, as they were known by the early stalkers, soon became the scientific mystery officially known as Equus Diabolus, though this was an early attempt at naming what was merely a rumor at the time. The Tarks were semi-aggressive omnivores with hunched backs, large incisors, and a blaringly irregular body.

After far too many stalkers were slain by these beasts specifically, it was then decided that all faction lines would dissolve in a temporary bid to wipe out the supernatural equines. The plan worked, and large hunting parties cleared the nests of the Tarks, leaving nothing left in their wake. Slowly, the Tark seemingly went extinct, one of very few occurrences of such actions due to man’s interloping within the Zone. They had become the thing of ghost-stories and gossip, fading into obscurity and never seen again. Though, there was talk once of a stalker who actually tamed one, whoever that may have been.

Kalancha, Suslov, and Chason each knew the story, with the two scientists having experienced the menaces firsthand. The Great Swamps were at one point riddled with the devastating pests, generally giving the faction a hard time. But seeing this zebra, which faintly resembled a Tark, was practically unsettling. Suslov himself witnessed a Tark feasting on the body of a hapless stalker, tearing flesh off with its menacing teeth. That said, he emptied buckshot into it and forced himself to put that memory behind himself.

“A visitor..?” The docent asked. “One I hope isn’t going to cause trouble? And for what reason would you allow a living mutant to come into our bunker?”

Chason gestured to the equine, “This is Zecora, a sentient zebra. I think there’s reason to why we’ve been seeing creatures that were never part of the Zone’s ecosystem. You know what I’m getting at with this, I hope?”

Diederich finally turned around, having heard the conversation, “It would be better if you explained, actually.”

“No,” Kalancha responded, raising a hand to cut in, “I don’t think that will be necessary. It was quite obvious that we were dealing with something else entirely from the very beginning of this operation. Missing information, along with few details, led us to believe that we were being sent on a very curious mission.”

Zecora listened carefully, not bothering to interrupt her chance to gather as much information on the humans as possible.

Suslov sipped his tea, “Yeah, this wasn’t exactly matching of the Zone’s environment, if you know what I mean. Crazy weather, creatures of myth, and all the colorful surroundings don’t fit what was to be expected.” He stopped, staring at his mug, “We knew the Space Bubbles were very tricky, very intricate devices constructed by the Zone that weren’t tethered down like most anomalies.”

“And it was for that reason we agreed to accompany this mission when it was presented to us. Young man, it was only a matter of time before it became obvious to everyone here we weren’t in the Zone anymore. Though we don’t know if you were the first to realize that among the stalkers, you’re the only one who’s bothered mentioning it.”

Diederich frowned, “Wait, if you two knew this from the start, why didn’t you tell us? Why keep it a secret, knowing that we could end up in a completely different point in space?”

“Because, young lady, that creates panic, and panic is an unnecessary factor we won’t allow to affect our decisions.”

Chason hummed in understanding, “So, if we aren’t in the Zone anymore, where are we then?”

Despite Zecora not understanding several parts of the conversation happening, she clearly recognized the answer to that question. To think that creatures from what seemed to be different world entirely were standing in front of her and conversing, trying to figure out what destination this so-called “Space Bubble” spit them out to.

“Equestria is the land you have entered, to cut short all this questioning and banter.” They all turned to look at her, “I understand you are all humans, for what reason would you reside near the Everfree Ruins?”

Chason gave her a look, “Ruins? I didn’t see any ruins when we were being flown in.”

Kalancha cut off Zecora, “Another time for that matter, young man. We have a guest with information, who I’m sure would some tea.”

Suslov chuckled to himself, “Of course, professor. One cup of tea, coming up for the strange visitor from far-away lands, with trinkets all over her.”

The professor ignored his fellow faction member and stepped closer to the zebra, holding his hands behind his back, “Now… Would you mind explaining our current situation, Miss Zecora, was it?”

Zecora nodded, taking a breath before starting. Even though she was no stranger to speaking to multiple zebras and ponies at once, she was feeling strangely calm in front of the much taller humans, though that probably shouldn’t have been the case. The piping-hot tea would help sooth her nerves further, and with a bit of luck, she’d be able to derive and mutually share information with these new visitors to the Everfree. Without another thought, Zecora settled in for a long explanation, one that would undoubtedly be filled with a multitude of questions. She only hoped that she’d be able to ask hers, as well.

Author's Notes

Sorry for the long wait, a few months by my estimate, but the guy who I normally got to do the proofing and editing of this story seems to have disappeared, as did his temporary replacement. So I just got a buddy to look it over and shit, so there may be some errors around. Once again, sorry for this shit, but between college, Sandy, midterms and so much other shit, I haven't had much time for anything. So, I hoped you guy enjoyed this chapter and that I didn't fuck up somewhere, though I most likely did.

Anyway, I'm done for now. I'll try to get a chapter out as soon as possible, but now that this one is done, there's other shit to work on. Hopefully shit will work out.

As Always,

Stay Trilla.

Chapter 7: Hard Exteriors

Observation and Protection
Chapter 7: Hard Exteriors
By: Stillmatic

“Exoskeletons?” Snitch asked in annoyance, “Why do I hate them? Why do I hate the guys who use them?”

Marked One’s temper was running short, as evident in his voice, “Yes.”

The trenchcoat-clad man fiddled with finger nails nonchalantly, “Hmm… The less of those tin cans walking around, the better, you feel me? Best we get rid of fools like that before they all gang up and storm some place. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want a bunch of tanks to roll up with their fancy shooters.” Snitch stopped and rested an elbow on the bar, “So, you up for the job then?”

“Of course.”

Marked One was able to get a good look at rotted teeth as a grin was presented to him, “Good. Now listen up…”

– Snitch’s Assassination Proposal to Marked One, Rostok Plant

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the mercenary to walk up on cold, hard concrete, but this time, it felt different. With a grogginess only a weathered, stubborn man in his mid-forties could muster, Scar opened his eyes to bleak ceiling. They drifted around, taking in the odd place he was in. Where he was he, actually? He didn’t quite know. Sitting up and cracking a few bones, the stalker found himself behind bars somehow. His first assumption was that he was somehow captured by the Ukrainian military and would now most likely be forced in front of a court, tried, and definitely sent to a prison somewhere. That’s what always happened to those that got caught.

Fortunately, he still had his exoskeleton on, which would be the first thing any army officer would take off his body before sticking him in a cell. Doing otherwise would be a foolish mistake. Unfortunately, that meant he once again didn’t know where he was or why he was in a cell. In fact, he couldn’t recall a single place in the Zone that had cells, with the exception of a certain Dutyer’s affinity with cages and mutants. But these bars were far too well-made and unscathed to have ever been in the Zone. Not even a technician would be able to weld them to this level of finesse.

Without a doubt, the situation was both troubling and confusing. Scar looked to his left, finding a small hole in the ground that reeked horribly. It most likely hadn’t been cleaned out in a long while, if at ever. To his right was a very basic slab of wood chained to the wall, functioning as a less-than-mediocre bed. He had been in worse spots, but the fact he couldn’t even remember how it was he ended up here or what he was even doing for the past few months didn’t do a thing to settle both his suspicion and worry. After all, people didn’t just wake up in prison cells randomly, especially in the Zone no less. If anything, you might wake up with a flesh or boar rubbing itself against your body in some sick form of masturbation, however rare that was.

Lacking any actual theories, the mercenary opted to remain where he was and sat against the stone wall behind him. A quick looked up revealed it to be day, given the light shining through a barred hole in the wall. Curiosity got the better of him and he stood up somewhat begrudgingly. Scar planted one foot on the board of wood and leaned up, peeking out of the restrictive window and noticing the sun’s position. If he was correct, it was roughly noon and quite warm out. His exoskeleton, however, was built to cool his body to the normally accepted body temperature of humans, providing relief to all but his head. That part of him had lost its protection somehow and the helmet and mask were nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, the wood gave way to his weight and snapped down the middle. Caught by surprise, he was yanked down to the floor and onto his rear end, which barely felt a thing. He stared judgmentally at the poor excuse of a bed and shook his head in disapproval. Whoever had captured him clearly didn’t plan on keeping him cooped up for long…

Or they were sadistic enough to want to give him the least pleasurable experience possible. What better way to get him to expose himself than let him take off his suit by his own hand, then prevent him from getting back in? It was an idea that made him grimace. He grew fond of the suits, despite how taxing they could be at times. It took a pretty penny to make sure they kept in working order, in good condition, and with as little bullet holes as possible, and none of that even covered the cost of upgrading it for an easier time. He was glad he was a mercenary. It paid well enough that he could do all of that, with a little work that is.

Scar was ripped from his thoughts as clopping was heard from far off. For most of his life, he had never seen a horse until it was an undead one in the Zone, but he could recognize that sound anywhere. The anticipation would have to wait. His head, as much as he hated to admit it, was slightly wider than the average stalker (though it did help to intimidate others). Due to this, he knew he couldn’t fit it enough between the bars to see what was nearing him. So being the patient man he was, the veteran removed himself from the broken pile of wood and sat in the same spot as earlier.

It took less than a minute, but the source had finally arrived. For what it was worth, the mercenary kept his face straight despite what he saw, a skill he mastered quite a while ago. The breath he kept exited his nostrils and he relaxed, finding the group of equines to just be part of some insidious illusion crafted by the Zone. In his eyes, it was something to ignore for the most part, though he never saw something quite this odd.

Two white equines in golden armor, a much larger, dark blue one wearing what looked like various pieces of jewelry, and lastly, a faintly familiar one. The gray mare was trembling, staring at him in disbelief but keeping her mouth shut. The blonde hair was drooped down, covering part of her face as if she hadn’t slept in a good while. He almost felt some emotion, but it died quicker than a rookie in an anomaly. Scar yawned quietly to himself and positioned himself more comfortably against the wall. The action didn’t sit well with some of the illusions, apparently.

The tallest equine looked down at the gray one, “Is he the one?” It nodded, “I see. Can he speak Equestrian?” Another nod, “Interesting…”

The timid mare’s eyes (which were a bit crossed) flicked between the mercenary and what appeared to be the leader of the group, “Uh, Princess..?”

That caught Scar’s attention. The illusions were surprisingly life-like, along with being creative. It was odd to see.

“Yes, what is it?” the royal blue equine asked sharply.

The previous one seemed to shrink, but remained rooted in place, “W-Well, it’s just th-that… he doesn’t really seem all that bad…”

The “Princess” seemed to stiffen, “’He’? What proof of it being male is recognizable that we haven’t observed already?”

“Because when he saved me,” it gave him a gracious nod, “he was talking like a stallion would, but kinda…” the pony seemed to rattle her brain around in an effort to find the correct word, “… kinda funny.”

Scar himself was suddenly caught by surprise when he realized one fact that went straight over his head. They were understandable. The language they were speaking? He wasn’t very world-savvy, but he knew English when he heard it. Though speaking the language was something he didn’t’ know, let alone understand, hearing it troubled him like so many things these past few minutes. So what did their conversation mean? He was losing it, of course. The chances of non-Russians currently in the Zone and him hallucinating what they looked like was absurdly slim, so that only left him just not functioning right in the head at all.

That left a few options for him, but staying silent could only help so much. Whatever it truly was that was in front of him, he would have to try to communicate.

“(… What am I seeing..?)” Scar cautiously asked to test the waters.

The ears of the equines immediately perked up at his voice, with only the gray one seemingly unsurprised. The tallest narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at him, as if holding back some scrutinizing impulse.

“What is it thou said?”

Thou? What was with the sudden change? Scar refocused on the situation and attempted to speak in English.

“Gignigrrehdng…”

He frowned. That wasn’t what he wanted, along with the looks he was receiving for the gibberish he said. The mercenary cleared his throat and scoured his mind for some sort of manual to speaking English. Though no such thing existed, there were small vestiges of memories somewhere back there.

In fact… there was quite a bit there that he didn’t even recall. English, Mandarin, and a few others were there, though vaguely. He had never even encountered a Chinese man before in his entire life, so how exactly did he know any of this? It was almost as if he was missing entire chunks of his memory for some reason.

And then, without warning, a massive migraine set in. Scar’s hands immediately went to his head while he groaned loudly. The pain was excruciatingly intense, with invisible hammers slamming rivets into his head with each second. More memories began pouring out, setting free languages he never realized he knew out into the open and experiences he would never have committed in his wildest dreams.

His eyes widened. He was a Monolith agent. No, worse… He was their leader… And what he did, the crimes against humanity he committed while serving, was like nothing he would have ever expected of himself. Chopping the heads off of stalkers and setting them on grounded spears, forcefully brainwashing helpless people, and worst of all, cannibalizing the corpses of those that were killed and processing them into food. The grisly thoughts ate away at him until his diminished focus cracked apart.

The equines watched in morbid curiosity and disgust as the human suddenly scrambled for the hole in the ground, vomiting in. The spray of throw up shot forth and died down after several more bursts. Scar slumped, panting loudly in between gags, and stricken with blurry vision. His head was hot and he could feel himself teetering on the brink of blacking out. The exoskeleton’s arm was used as a rag for the excess vomit on his mouth, with him spitting time and time again to get the filthy taste from his mouth.

Scar firmly pushed himself up, remaining lucid and grabbing the bars of the cell, “Water.”

The raspy, labored request wasn’t fulfilled for just moment, until the dark blue alicorn seemed to make a glass of water appear in thin air. It levitated towards him and he grabbed it, careful not to let the exoskeleton’s strength crush it. He took a few sips, gargled, spat the residue vomit out, and drank the rest. The glass was set down next to him gently. For what he now knew wasn’t the first time, he spoke the alien language of English.

“Why am I in a cell and what faction are you a part of?”

Luna was curious of this creature, so very much so. It was definitely what she had seen in her dreams, but the other was elsewhere or possibly not even alive, she figured. Though what would she do with this one? It was stripped of its weapons, but left in its carapace for the time being. After all, they didn’t know yet if removing it would harm the ape or not, and she wasn’t about to let her captive die on her suddenly. The doctors and guards who healed it knew that when she teleported it to the castle that they were dealing with something that could put their jobs in jeopardy. So they did as they were ordered and used whatever unicorn healing magic would work properly. In the end, Princess Luna received something to interrogate for answers.

She clicked her tongue. The armored creature in front of her wasn’t an “it” anymore. A him and he, actually. Princess Luna’s dreams showed groups battling for dominance, but then which did this one belong to? What the gray mare had told her left her feeling as though what she had in front of her was a zealot. Speaking of monolithic structures, worship, damnation, and so many other religious concepts left her wondering why such a devout being would be enraptured into a seemingly never-ending war. It all made her far too curious…

General Whitemark felt far differently about what he was seeing. Wonderment as to what it was or where it was from were the last thoughts on his mind at the moment, but he held a certain admiration for it. He was positive it wasn’t mutual, but the ferocity he witnessed was something that excited him, getting the adrenaline pumping and blood flowing. The general hadn’t felt so tempted to let out his aggression ever before, and the sight of blood spilling from the creature’s actions made his hackles stand on end. Whitemark had felt pangs of bloodlust in battle with monsters before, but now he wanted to experience it fully alongside the interloper across from him. It would be an unholy and effective team, despite it being an impossible thought.

His interest betrayed his position for a mere second, and he asked the obvious question that was being waited for, “Faction?”

Princess Luna shot him a quick look before speaking to the creature, “I believe it would be more productive for myself to ask the questions for now.” Her eyes met the sitting body and remained rooted there. “I’ve seen the likes of you before, but I have no name to call your kind by.”

It’s – no, his – face shifted slightly, but was steady, “I don’t like being toyed with by illusions…” His response wasn’t taken well, but he continued, “As for what I am, that should be obvious. A mercenary.”

The Princess wanted so badly to just run a hoof down her face in frustration. Luckily, her training in regality prevented that from happening, “A mercenary. A soldier for hire. While that may suffice if I had asked for your occupation, it does not answer my previous question. What sort of creature are you?”

A look of offense was forming now, “’Creature’?” He let out a small huff of annoyance, “I’m not so old or senile that I don’t come off recognizable as a human.”

The locks within the Princess’ mind clicked away at that word. Human. She was positive she had heard it from somewhere before. A quick scour through her own dreams left her with no new information, but a short stint in her memories gave a vague sense to the word. The farther back she looked, the foggier her memories became. Eventually, she came upon the years of her childhood when her family was fully-formed. Broken images of her father sprang forth in bursts, but she couldn’t bring forth a full picture. Luna bit her lip and gave up. If her memories weren’t going to help at all, she’d try to pry knowledge from the human.

“Human?” she asked cautiously. “That is what you are called?”

A very small smirk greeted her, “If I humor you for a second, I expect an answer to my own questions.” Luna reluctantly nodded, “Good. My name is Scar.”

“Scar?” Whitemark repeated with a suppressed chuckle, “That’s a bit morbid of a name, isn’t it?”

Scar’s face became serious as his eyes went level with Whitemark’s, “My real name isn’t something you need to know.” The human stood up, reaching Luna’s height easily in his carapace, “Now, cut the bullshit.”

Star Spangle, having been the other guard to escort the Princess and Derpy Hooves, instantly reacted by barking, “Don’t you dare curse in fr-“

A pair of hands instantly gripped the bars. A partially wrinkled face was glaring daggers of death directly at Star Spangle, who recoiled. The stallion’s eyes narrowed and met the stare with his own.

Scar spoke as if his voice would fire spikes into the eyes of the ponies across from him, “I’m not going to play any more games with any of you. What kind of illusions are you? Are you Monolith agents? Did you capture me so you could brainwash me again? Why would you choose to make yourselves look like horses instead of people? How stupid do you honestly think I am? I’ve been around the Zone long enough to know a damned trick when I see one!”

His tirade died down as soon as he pulled himself away from the bars. Scar leaned his back against the wall and shook his head in disgust at his situation. He absolutely hated being toyed with, no matter whom by. But the fact they continued some charade infuriated him to no end. And to appear as some sort of horse in front of him? Did they not respect him in the least? The spite grew as he reached the conclusion that they simply assumed he would be far too unstable or psychotic to see another human, and would need some comforting image such as brightly-colored horses.

Luna, however much she wanted to bite back, held her tongue from delivering her own sentiments, “I apologize if you believe we’re insulting you, but your little outburst won’t help your current situation. You’re in a dungeon cell for being a possible threat to Equestria. Your chances of leaving are quickly diminishing with each word you speak. You aren’t strong enough to bend or break the bars. Your only feasible option is to give us the information we require, unless you want to rot in here for the rest of your miserable life, that is.”

Whitemark was the only one to not shiver at the coldness of Luna’s response. Derpy hid behind Star Spangle, who felt as though he had swallowed his own heart at the point. Whether the Lunar Princess intended to send a message to her subjects wasn’t important, for it was already out in the open that defiance to her would not be tolerated. She absolutely despised having her authority tested. Discord was the prime offender, along with her sister on occasion (though that was more towards being playful).

Scar kept his face neutral until a mocking smirk broke out. He sat back down, kicked his legs out, and rested his hands against the back of his head, “The rest of it? Alright then; I’ve had worse.”

Luna glared at him, her eyes unable to burn his resolve away, “Do not mistake me for a lenient leader. I do not share the same empathy to threats as my sister, nor do I forgive easily.” Her ears flicked slightly as she detected her sibling’s presence nearby, “Speak of the Discord…”

Scar clicked his tongue, “I never asked forgiveness, and I don’t need it either. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Before the Lunar Princess could retort, the sound of Celestia and her guards arriving in the dungeon echoed against the walls. There was a final look at the Mercenary before she trotted off. Whitemark and Star Spangle moved to follow, but a hoof in their direction stopped them short. Derpy shuffled nervously and sped to the cell bars as soon as the Princess was a good enough distance away.

“What are you doing? You can’t talk to Princess Luna like that! She’s a Princess!” The crossed eyes did nothing to shake away the seriousness she gave off.

Scar shifted positions and repressed a yawn, “I suppose she is. But none of this is real, so…”

“It’s very real!” she cried. “You might not ever get out of here with an attitude like that!”

As much as Star Spangle wanted to hear the conversation, a feeling in the back of his head pushed it slowly to the right. The Princesses were nearing each other, and from the looks of it, Luna passed her sister without so much as a word. Despite being relatively new to the Royal Guard, even he thought it was odd that Luna was acting the way she was. Then again, only Celestia knew how the Lunar Princess conducted herself before the whole Nightmare Moon debacle, so he wasn’t in any position to make judgments just yet. He felt guilty as he watched her leave alone, without anyone protecting her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his job and the thought quickly scurried to the back of his mind.

Princess Celestia slowed herself as she approached the final cell in the dungeon. On a personal note, she disliked the idea of any sort of confinement of a living creature, but knew the necessity of having such an area in her kingdom. At least now it served a purpose of protection for her ponies, though she didn’t yet know if it was entirely needed. No one really knew much about the creature that was being held, with the sole exception of Luna. And she wouldn’t share a bit of it, not until she took care of the situation herself. To say it was frustrating would be lenient.

Lacking anywhere to start, the Solar Princess merely stood in front of the human and uttered a single word, “Hello.”

“Hello,” he responded. “How are you?”

For what it was worth, Scar knew that the horse that just left and the one that just arrived were sisters. Even in his previously brainwashed state he could remember hearing “Sister” in association with those two. After piecing together bits of what he remembered into a full picture, he realized that this was the specific horse that wasn’t willing to attack him on sight. For what reason, he didn’t know. Was he grateful? No, he usually never was unless the person earned his respect. Forester and Lebedev were two examples of that, and he owed them the world for their help. He’d pay them back one day, somehow.

As for his response, Scar felt it was necessary to generate a rift between what he assumed were the leaders of these daft images. Each passing second seemed to make them seem more real, and the idea of playing along seemed a tad bit appealing at the moment. Or he was falling for a trap, but his intuition rarely failed him. The Mercenary withheld a grimace. Of course, there was always that one time those Bandits nearly killed him in a basement and stole everything he had… Regardless, opportunity recognition was a trait of a Merc that was necessary, and what better way to preserve one’s life than to make a friend with the rival of the thing that harassed you? He knew better than to waste his chances.

Celestia smiled at his response, “Quite well, thank you. How have you been?”

Scar looked at his surroundings, the horses, and then at himself before looking back at her, “Better, but not the worst.”

White Mark smirked at that. If it wasn’t going to be Princess Luna that would get information from their guest, it would definitely be Princess Celestia. And given the lax conversation so far, it seemed more likely to happen.

Celestia smiled sincerely, “I’m sorry about anything rash my sister may have said, or her overzealous behavior, but she’s been troubled recently by…” She thought over her next words, “’Visions’, so to speak.”

“So long as I’m treated well,” Scar stood against the wall once more, making his eyes level with hers, “I’m willing to make some small talk. Just not to the other one. I heard what it said in the sewers.”

Star Spangle twitched at that and ground his teeth, “That ‘it’ happens to be Princess Luna, creature!”

“And?”

Celestia placed a hoof on the guard and gave an understanding nod before meeting Scar’s gaze again, “Id prefer it if you didn’t call my sister an ‘it’, but I suppose it’s understandable from your perspective. I also apologize for you being in the dungeon, but-“

“I’m dangerous.”

It was more of a statement than a question that finished her sentence. Both saw it that way, and both knew it to be true. As much as she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, it would be foolish to do so without knowing more about him. Even then she would be uncertain as to what the outcome would be. Was it fair? Frankly, she didn’t think so. Would it possibly protect her ponies? It was a realistic assumption, though the human had already done so once for a bit of time, hadn’t it? After all, the breeding grounds of those vile creatures that now no longer populated Canterlot’s sewers were all but smashed apart. Maybe there was other reason behind such an act, but it benefited her ponies nonetheless.

Scar shirked off the self-appointed accusation without much trouble, “No, I know.” He idly rubbed his ragged stubble, “Some want me dead. I’ve walked into enough ambushes around the Zone to see that.”

Celestia shook her head, “Nopony wants you dead per se, but we’ve never seen the likes of you before. Rumors are spreading like wildfire around Canterlot about yourself and your actions.”

“Favorable?”

“Mostly,” she responded. “Admittedly, nopony has even heard of Tirek, but when word gets around that somepony has vanquished a long forgotten evil, it is usually well-received amongst the populace. In fact, it happens more often than one would think.”

The memory of the battle flooded Scar’s mind, and he soon remembered his insanely stupid mistake during it. He gave a groan of aghast and slapped a gloved hand to his forehead. The ponies watched in interest while he muttered curses and generally became increasingly displeased at something. The Merc ran his hands down his face and stared back up at Celestia.

“I wasted a Night Star.”

“Excuse me?”

Scar scoffed at his own actions and shook his head, “I can’t believe I did that. What was I thinking? That thing was worth its weight in gold!”

Whitemark’s thoughts tossed around in his head until realization hit him, “You’re talking about that glowing rock that exploded, aren’t you?”

Though Celestia found it a bit rude that this new visitor was lamenting the loss of the object that had literally saved the General, her sister and herself, she found it just to at least compensate him for what he gave up.

“I take it that what you lost was worth quite a bit, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. A lot of money has literally been turned into a warp within reality.”

“Would compensation for your loss make your situation better?” she asked questioningly. After all, she didn’t know if this was an overly proud creature that would be offended by her offer or readily accept it, so there was no point in not seeming a bit inquisitive to lay any tension to rest.

Scar considered what she said, and found it appealing. Now, this particular Mercenary was no fool, and was normally forced to sell artifacts at cost due to the many necessary steps it would take to ship them out to their respectful buyers. This left a hefty sum to Sidorivich, Shilov, or even sometimes Suslov. He dubbed them the “Three S’s” and normally sold to Suslov despite the distant trek. At least he would give a better price than Sidorivich.

Yet, none of Scar’s sales ever made him rich, and for good reason. Artifacts were rare, very rare. Selling them was akin to lopping off a body part for black market sale, and losing them? A mortifying experience that would drive any stalker mad. And like many stalkers, Scar tucked away his artifacts for later use within the wild confines of the Zone. But he wasn’t so sure he was in the Zone anymore, so…

It was time to finally turn a real profit.

And given that the mare he found earlier was carrying golden coins on her like it was absolutely nothing, he knew that he could definitely milk this for a hefty sum.

Scar smiled, “Why yes, that would actually be appreciated.”

“Excellent. Now, you said it was worth its weight in gold, but that doesn’t tell us much. What would be a generous price in terms of bits for such an… interesting object?”

“A Night Star can get you somewhere between five thousand to seven thousand rubles. I’m not sure of the conversion, though.”

That was effectively a lie on his part. Either amount wouldn’t be enough to purchase so much as even a fifth of an ounce of gold, and he knew that quite well. But hopefully, it would go over their heads. And as luck would have it, it did.

“That sounds like quite a lot,” she mused. “No matter; Star Spangle.” Said guard saluted, “Go fetch the royal accountant and tell him to take seven thousand bits from my personal coffers.”

Scar felt his heart literally stop at that. There was a short-lived emptiness of feeling that was quickly replaced by shock. He placed a hand on his chest and looked away as he felt himself struggle to acknowledge what he just heard. It was halfway towards an exaggeration. Celestia, however, took this in the completely wrong way.

“Oh, you were being humble! Surely something of that much power was worth more.” Star Spangle turned to attention once more, “Nine thousands bits, then. Please alert Gold Leaf to the exchange.”

Scar, if he didn’t feel the regular aches in his back, would have assumed this was some diabolical dream concocted by the Zone. But even the Zone wouldn’t create such an absurd image, right? He could only force himself into a state of calmness and nod his head. Besides, what would he lose with playing along? Once anyone saw him in a Monolith exoskeleton, his reputation would effectively be ruined. That meant making a living within the Zone would be all the more harder, and leaving wasn’t exactly an option anymore. So it was with a deep breath that the Mercenary looked back up, accepted his fate, and played this game for as long as he was still alive.

Princess Celestia, for her part, didn’t lose much in terms of finances with the reparation she handed out. As modest as she was, she was keen with her money and invested it in parts of infrastructure that would ultimately help her country thrive and command itself as a global power. A thousand years later and the shares of companies she helped fund were piling up in her personal reserve. Whether the money went to scholarships, festivals, or generally helping her ponies, it was usually put towards something worthwhile. Paying back somepony for their efforts wasn’t all that uncommon either.

Scar reached around himself and grabbed his backpack. It was empty, as he expected, but still in good condition. The Solar Princess watched in curiosity as he reached inside, hoping for some sort of food that was missed by his weighing of it. The man retrieved a perfectly edible, entirely wholesome, especially unexpired chunk of a loaf of bread, giving it an experimental sniff and bite. Risk was thrown to the wind and he began eating it in earnest until the morsel was nothing but crumbs on the rough concrete below. For what it was worth, food had the effect of calming Scar down when he felt his heart acting up, especially so from excitement. Not one to embrace being lethargic or unproductive, he turned on his well-known charm and got to work.

“So what would I have to do to get out of the place?” he asked bluntly.

There were times when Chason felt his less-than-humble side would tickle his ego, making him feel as if he were Yuri Gagarin on voyages beyond human knowledge. Beyond the atmosphere was beyond the Cordon, and farther than that were subtle lights in the distance that drove his inner explorer wild with ideas. There was so much to document, too much to see, and never enough time, ammo or resources to fulfill his need to excavate the enigmatic depths of a place forgotten and remembered within only two decades. The Zone was more than his workplace. It was his playground, only the bullies were highly mutated monstrosities hell-bent on keeping out folks like him. It was one hell of a challenge to contest, as he would put it, but maybe that was the appeal of it for him.

Now, things were just a fraction different.

He wasn’t simply a stalker working for a meal and ammo anymore; Chason Juhurov was leading an expedition into an unknown world with a wilderness just as deadly as the Zone itself. The veteran was adamant to take every precaution he deemed necessary and kept his eyes on every single person who was with him, save the poor soul that had been a casualty earlier. The tarped corpse tucked away in a shed still made him feel a bit vulnerable. He may not have known the stalker personally, but regardless of that fact, a team member was now dead. And though it wasn’t his primary concern, the thought that he was responsible as leader for not maintaining the safety of others hung over his head like a lackluster cloud.

But, as all stalkers learned to do, he didn’t keep his mind on death. No, no one could do that. Not when there was a whole new world to explore and trek through. Of course, he wasn’t going begin a true expedition until possibly a week of reconnaissance, but the thought nearly made him giddy with anticipation. The first human being to have tread where no other human had stepped before, making observations on the environment and protecting his flock with the vigilance of a hawk. There was ample time to prepare and gather information, and an almost luxurious feeling washed over him. It was good to finally have that sense of child-like wonder again, and in such a colorful setting too. And despite the familiar mutants and anomalies littering the nearby area, he had the faintest inkling that nothing would be able to stop him or the progress of the ISG now. They were nigh-invincib-

“Are you just going to sit around all day with that look on your face, or are you going to actually get some work done?”

The Tourist snapped out of his daydreams and stared at Diederich, “I was devising a plan to cut through the forest, obviously.”

The lead scientist brushed a lock of hair away from her face and rolled her eyes playfully, “Ah. And I suppose using the map Zecora created didn’t meet your standards, did it?” He opened his mouth to protest but stopped half-way, “Why is it that men have such trouble with accepting navigational help?”

“I don’t need a map.” Chason tapped the side of his head, “Zone intuition.”

“We aren’t in the Zone.”

She had him there.

“I won’t disregard good advice, especially from a local. I was actually going to see if Zecora would accompany me as an escort and…” He contemplated for a moment, “… I’d hope she would act as a buffer and vouch for me if and when we decide to approach the nearby inhabitants. I’m sure there’s nothing I can’t handle out there, but it always pays well to be prepared for any situation.”

“As it should. Recklessness costs lives, and we need everyone we can muster to keep ourselves fortified and safe.”

The conversation seemed to end at that, bringing the spot to a quiet. Chason thumbed his chin in thought, going over his plans for the fourteenth time today. That was saying something, given it was early morning presently. Claramond watched him in a faint interest, turning her head to other directions occasionally to make sure all was well. She flinched when Chason hopped off his seat of an oil drum, making his equipment jingle with the movement.

“I don’t normally do this,” he began to admit, “but I think the sooner we establish contact, the sooner we can get some help with our situation. God knows how long we can last without it, being practically an island amongst a jungle of predators. I’ll pry Zecora from Suslov and see if she’s willing to help delegate some assistan-“

Diederich quieted him with a raised finger, “If you go to see whatever it is that lives on this-this…” She shifted uncomfortably, “…world, then I’ll come as well.”

“Absolutely not. It simply isn’t safe enough for a scientist to leave the immediate area.”

“Operator, I hold a good amount of rank within the ISG now, let alone the United Nations.”

A smile developed at the corners of his mouth, “Ah, but I lead this mission and have the final decision on all matters.”

“They wouldn’t like it if I mentioned your distaste towards scientific progress.”

The “they” was obviously his superiors. The threat, however, didn’t frighten him in the least. Sure, he respected authority and wanted to keep a paycheck coming in, but this was his turf, and as far as he was concerned, he was calling the shots. Alas, he knew better than to continue a frivolous debate that would inevitably lead to nothing.

He began to walk towards the main building, turning and extending his arms charitably, “Who am I to deny a woman’s desires and ambition? You’re very respectable Doctor, but know what you’re getting into by committing to this. Untold dangers could lurk anywhere.”

“I may not have been able to foresee our current position, but I knew what I was getting into by accepting to be a part of this team.” She emphasized it a gentle pat on the handgun resting on her hip.

“So be it. Be ready within three hours.”

The Tourist turned heel and stepped to the main base promptly, missing the satisfied look on Doctor Diederich’s face. But as he passed the storages, a familiar voice made him catch his foot halfway into a step. Chason found his reason to pause and leaned against the wall of the shed. Knowing full well who he was now spying on, he overheard Wexler speak over what he could only guess was a satellite phone. It was a wonder it was working, though.

“… Yeah, yeah… Everything’s going absolutely fine so far. I may be surrounded by fucking morons, but I can still keep my bearings despite it all… Not a word, understood? Your situation can’t be all that better – and believe me, mine sure as hell isn’t that great either – but progress is being made. Give it time… You can’t be serious… I… I don’t even know how to respond to that. Stay calm, stay focused, and try to get back to Kuala Lumpur.”

There was a pause longer than the others, roughly ten whole seconds. “… Well… Keep it under wraps. If people knew what this and that and all we had and could see and do, we’d be pretty screwed… No. As far as I know, the ISG has no connection whatsoever with the folks at the IRC…”

Even from this distance, Chason could hear the sounds of yelling from the phone, prompting Wexler to hush the person on the other end with a hiss, “Quiet! Damn! Of course I’ve known about them, I work for them!” Another drawn-out break in the conversation, “… They’re giving you trouble, are they? Don’t bother trying to lay low. I hate to say this, but send a message. You know how… What do you mean? You’ve been looking through their things and you haven’t even figured it out yet?”

There was an exasperated sigh from the supposed scientist, “International Regulatory Committee. IRC… You’re drunk, I can tell. I… I don’t even know what to say at this point. You’re lucky you have me covering your ass. Finish what you started, and get some god damn rest already. You sound half-dead.” There was a soft chuckle, “Alright Lyor. Enjoy it, expect to see you soon.”

There was the clacking sound of a closing sat-phone, and a weary sigh. Chason skipped quietly past the scientist, thinking over questions in his mind. It was odd how the satellite phone worked properly here, especially so when there were no satellites as far as they knew. No, it seemed pretty obvious that there weren’t any. Then again, it was vaguely possible that the Space Bubbles dotting the area could perhaps, however skeptical he was, allow for some sort of connectivity to the Zone and beyond. It wasn’t very plausible, but he knew that anything could come to fruition given the right setting. Now equipped with an uneasiness regarding one of his “flock”, Chason put in motion his plans to finally further his understanding of this new world. What would become of his ambitions wasn’t overly clear at the moment, but he was sure that a level head and seasoned mind could overcome any obstacle. Little did he know that every single skill in staying alive of his own and those around him would be put to the test in the not too distant future.

That, the veteran stalker, was ignorant of.

Author's Note

It's finally here. Rejoice and all that shit.

For now, I rest, and probably work on Carotene when I get the chance.

As always,
Stay Trilla.