“Hello, and welcome to the early morning special of Stalker News, where we share information about what is happening around the zone. Here’s some interesting news for all you mutant-dodging survivalists out there! It has been exactly forty years since the exclusion zone has been established! Moving on, it’s currently six thirty-four and some cloudy skies are expected today, but try to stay inside later in the afternoon as the rain today has an abnormal radiation count and we don’t want any of our listeners getting sick, don’t we, Andrei?” Bringing his hand down, Alojzy smashes his gloved and balled up fist into the radio, silencing the announcer before he can even begin to speak yet again. The bulky Polish man shifts around on the grimy couch, and turns his head upward to look through one of many holes in the ceiling of the decrepit house that he has camped out in for the night. Alojzy turns his large frame over to a small orange, white, and dark brown calico. The cat is laying on a dirty pillow, eyes slowly blinking open and closed, perhaps curious about Alojzy’s movements.
“Маша, иди.” With those words, the calico stands up and stretches, back arching as it yawns, and casually walks over to the waking stalker, rubbing her sides against his legs. Alojzy reaches down and softly rubs the colorful cat on her back, occasionally brushing the fur on her sides and tail with his large calloused hand. “Good girl.” He whispers to the cat, as she purrs and continues to rub against the man, enjoying the attention and affection she is receiving. However, she eventually loses interest and wanders away, tail straight flicking into the air as the calico lazily struts over to where she lay before. The stalker watches comfortably from his position on the couch, but he knows that he must get up soon. A breeze blows in from the broken window behind the couch, whistling softly against the broken glass and giving Alojzy a taste of the cool refreshing air outside.
His large figure dominates the ugly looking couch below him. As he leans back, the couch loudly creaks. Masha’s ear points over to the noise, but her eyes remain closed. The man leans down toward his unopened back. He unzips it and takes a look at the contents inside, searching for something in particular. Alojzy pulls out a tupperware bowl containing various bags full of food items. He opens the bowl and sifts around, pulling out sliced bread, cheese, and a salami log. Pausing, he takes the salami log out of the bag and checks it over. The man annoyedly sighs and reaches down to his belt to unclip a knife. Grabbing it by the grip firmly, he cleanly and easily slices through the log of salami. He does this several times, before licking the knife and clipping it back on his belt.
Standing up, he takes a look at his surroundings. He was, of course, still in the house he decided to camp out in the night before. The grimy couch was behind him, and his favorite calico kitten was lazing about in the corner, eyes closed and sleeping. The radio was turned off on the coffee table in front of Alojzy. He looked around, trying to pick out anything that might have any particular significance, but the only object that drew his immediate attention was an old Soviet Communist propaganda poster. On it was a caricature of Lenin driving a nail through a railroad tie and the words “Труд составляет лучшее будущее!” or “Labor amounts to a greater future!” Alojzy chuckles deeply and casually walks over to the poster. He reaches up with one arm and tears it from its place, thumbtacks clicking and clacking against the rotting hardwood floor as they fell from their place. The stalker looks at the paper one more time before folding it up and stuffing it in a side pocket in his thick military jacket.
Alojzy turns about and walks back over to the brownish-green couch, scooping up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder in one swift motion. He picks up his AKM and gives it a once over by his eyes, seeing that no damage has been done to his precious rifle overnight, he slings it over his shoulder and brushes his hands on his pants, rubbing any excess cosmoline that may have accumulated on his hands. Alojzy sits back down on the couch and clicks his tongue. Masha’s eyes blink open, interrupted from her sleep, and stands up, stretching her back before bounding over to the hefty stalker and into his awaiting arms. He picks up Masha so that she is facing him, and places her on his lap. Alojzy pets the cat’s head. Delighted, the cat meows loudly at the man, who laughs in response. “You and I, Masha, we are here together.” He lovingly coos to the cat. Masha butts her head against his hand and meows again. Satisfied, the stalker picks up the cat again and places her on the floor, much to her chagrin. Reaching into a jacket pocket, he pulls out a folded up paper. Unfolding the paper reveals a map of the zone, with several notable points marked on the map in red marker. The stalker rubs his cheek as he stares at the map, eyes darting to and fro from position to position. Suddenly, his eyes brighten up, and he points to an area on the map labeled “Antonov”. He folds the map back up energetically and shoves it back where it came from.
Standing back up with rifle unslung, Alojzy looks at his trusty weapon and pulls the slide back. Satisfied, he rubs his AKM’s barrel before lowering it, keeping the barrel pointed to the floor. He stomps forward on his clodhoppers and turns the corner, coming to the open doorway of the abandoned, crumbling, soviet home. Alojzy looks down at his side, hearing the pitter patter of feet following him. Masha looks up at him and meows, casually walking forward and brushing her tail against his legs. The big bulky stalker chuckles and shakes his head, following after the cat into the great radioactive yonder. He observes the outside world, hearing the cawing of crows and chirping of sparrows. Debris and dirt cover the pathway that led to the house, and a fallen tree had destroyed the heavily rusted truck in the driveway. It was cloudy and cool out, a good day for a stalker. However, it was also a foggy morning, reducing the visibility considerably.
Howling in the distance breaks Alojzy from his trance. He doesn’t bother to shoulder his rifle, as the howling seemed to come from much farther off. After waiting and listening to the leaves rustle at the wind’s command, shots ring out, silencing the howls from the potential predators. The battle-ready polish man takes command, grunting and finally setting off for his destination. Vaulting over the fallen tree, Alojzy hastily jogs towards the road. Leaves crinkling and rustling behind him fills the stalker with delight knowing that his feline compatriot is following him. The stalker crouches at the gravelly road, pausing to look left and right. Satisfied, he stands back up and starts jogging along the left side of the road. Kicking up rocks and dust as he does so. The Polski checks behind him, looking over his bulky backpack and finding that Masha was still following him. The cat meows as he looks at her wiry form, the cat springing about behind him with ease.
Turning his head back around, Alojzy boot-clad feet scrape along the rocky road trying to stop, immediately shouldering his rifle and shouting. “Don’t move! Don’t you dare move!” He screeches. In front of him is a figure on hands and knees, staring at the stalker with a face covered in bruises, dirt, and cuts. The clothes on the being are tattered and heavily worn, and appear to be stuck to the skin in some places. The visible skin is mottled and almost rotted in appearance. Its face is obscured by a burned ski mask, and its shoulders bear the worn insignia of the Soviet Red Army. The disturbing amalgam that may have been a man at one point screeches at the terrified Alojzy. Spit flies at the man’s direction as Alojzy backs away in a panicked and erratic manner. The sharp “tick tick tick” of his geiger counter rings off as the stalker attempts to evade the creature, who seems to suddenly pay Alojzy no mind as it slinks off back into the forest, staring down the stunned man as it does so. Alojzy observes the creature, mostly for his own safety, as it leaves him. Unsure if he should continue down the road, Alojzy carries on, rifle shouldered and ready to fire at a moment’s notice.
The day carries on without the man. Animals and mutated creatures going about their business in the wilderness. Occasional groups of stalkers and bandits wander down the many roads of the crumbling infrastructure of the exclusion zone. Other stalkers and factions fight over territory, some wanting to take control of the exclusion zone for good and drive other groups out, others have more peaceful goals in mind. Traders buy gear, guns, and ammunition from venturous stalkers, and sell them for a profit to other stalkers who may not have quality gear. Alojzy is a loner, a stalker who wanders from settlement to settlement looking for work and food. Sometimes, the stalker will go on a hunt for precious minerals and items formed by the radioactive wastes of Chernobyl and sell them to the Ukranian or Russian militaries for a large sum of money. Most stalkers just want to pay the bills, and most just want to survive. Some stalkers find the abandoness of Chernobyl and the surrounding exclusion zone calming, but the exclusion zone’s borders no longer are just a warning for outsiders. It is now a country in the midst of a civil war, recognized by only four governments: Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, and Germany. Most of the world has no idea that it is actually a country, but just a place that nobody should ever go to. That, of course, is not true. Thousands upon thousands of brave men have flocked to the zone, hoping to find wealth, or a purpose, and some find their wealth or purpose. Others find the end of their lives.
Alojzy calmly sips his glass of vodka, sitting in the rich atmosphere of the beaten bar. Laughter fills the smoke filled air as another stalker tells a joke to his comrades, and the hushed whispers in the corner tell of shady business being done. Masha laps from a small bowl of cream on the counter, unconcerned with the loud noises and drunken men surrounding her. Most pay her no mind, but the occasional person would come up to her and pet her or scratch, to which the cat would love. Alojzy turns his head towards a man who sits down next to him, then turns back towards his glass and looks down at it, taking another drink. “You know, Alojzy, this is Federation territory. Do you really think you should be here?” The man calmly asks in a hushed tone.
Alojzy glances at the man as he takes another drink. Setting the glass down he whispers “So what? If they hold a grudge, then they hold a grudge, they won’t hurt me.”
The hooded stalker signals the bartender with a raised hand. The bartender looks at the man as he wipes the inside of a mug. “Yeah, what can i get you?” The bartender shouts over the noise of the bar.
“A white Russian please.” The man mutters.
The bartender chuckles, “Sure, coming right up, but lemme tell you a joke that some scummy bastard told me!”
Alojzy cautiously looks over at the interaction between the two men.
The hooded man pounds his fist on the counter and says to the bartender, “Let’s hear it then.”
The bartender moves around behind the counter, picking up a medium sized glass and a few other drinks. As he mixes the man’s drink, he begins to speak enthusiastically, “Alright, so, a man walks into a strip bar and sits down. He looks at the guy standing behind the counter and says, ‘I’ll have a white Russian.’ The guy behind the counter says, ‘Sorry, but she’s out back with the bartender.’” The bartender laughs heartily at his own joke as he sets the drink down, the man chuckles along with the bartender, shaking his head at the cheesy joke. Alojzy turned his attention back toward his own drink, sipping it with little regard for his surroundings.
Then something caught his attention. The bartender spoke quietly to the hooded man, who nodded. Leaning over, Alojzy listened to their conversation stealthily.
“Seriously comrade, be careful out there. The world is a shitty place now, and these new mutants have been appearing… Ponies, they call the freaks. At least that’s what they call themselves.” The bartender spoke quietly, with only the hooded man and Alojzy listening. “Listen, Alexi, i need you to bring me the head of one of those things. Show them how the Republic of Pripyat handles mutants, and how we don’t want them here.” The bartender smiled and patted Alexi’s shoulder, the latter getting up and nodding.
“Will do. See you around!” Alexi waved to the bartender, leaving in a hurry to find what the bartender requested.
Alojzy tapped his glass as his mind rolled over this new information. Ponies? A new form of mutant? And they call themselves ponies? They certainly didn’t need another radiation filled men to mess up the countryside again. They were almost zombie-like, Alojzy shuddered at the thought of those poor, shambling, insane men wandering around the settlements around Chernobyl and Pripyat. Putting them down was a necessary, but painstaking task. Alojzy got up from where he sat and put a number of Rubles underneath the drink, payment and tip as it were, and left the bar. Finding Alexi was also a necessary task a this point, and investigating these “Ponies” and why they were so valuable was another.
