|Newcomers of the Damned
Author: asham9 PM
As two "new" and mysterious stalkers entered the zone, Tolik abandoned the rookie camp and decided to set out in their adventure. A story of redemption, betrayal and faith.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure - Chapters: 10 - Words: 15,565 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 01-17-12 - Published: 11-17-09 - id: 5518467
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's note: Forgive me for not updating this story sooner by I am back and am enjoying my holidays right now, so expect more to come this summer and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading and I appreciate your reviews as always comrades.
Regroup and Recover
22 May 2012
The grey clouds loomed over the Rostok Factory like a blanet of shadow, it was near sunset and the cold was setting in. The howling winds were rough in the evening as it blew in Hacky's direction with utmost persistence and without mercy, sending him shivering to the bone. He rubbed both of his arms and hastily went inside the infirmary nearby the arena. It was a wide room that used to be a truck garage for shipping deliveries of the abandoned factory. The walls were a faded-green and rusted-framed moldy beds lined up at both sides of the wall, serving as a resting place for the wounded. Hacky strode across the room, his footsteps echoed his presence. He watched the ceiling fans spun almost lazily, as if it was going to fall any second. He caught the sight of Crow, sitting on the corner of one the beds at the far right of the hospice. Roksana was kneeling right behind him, aiding him or at least trying to.
"Hold still…" Roksana pleaded impatiently as she stitched the third deep gash on his back, his flesh was stinging from all the anti-septic. Crow didn't feel much since he was high from the morphine Ivantsov gave him; he felt dazed and didn't notice Hacky until he was a few feet away.
Hacky greeted him with a sly grin and dug his pockets a red packet of Winfield's and a black lighter. He chucked it at Crow, offering him a smoke.
Crow accepted the offer as he caught it with one hand, annoying Roksana as she struggles to keep him still. "Thanks." He mumbled as he placed the cigarette between his lips and lighted it.
"That was one hell of a fight." Hacky commended as he sat on the empty bed beside Crow.
"That was," agreed Crow, exhaling a long puff of smoke. His eyes wandered around the room curiously like a ten year-old boy in a newly-opened candy shop.
"So what brings you here stalker?" Hacky asked innocently.
"Blood and gratitude," Crow answered with his eyes straight into Hacky's. "I did the blood part, but I haven't gotten around on to the gratitude. What about you?"
The balding middle-aged man played with his thumbs. "Well, you see-"
"Not you," Crow snapped softly. "Her."
Roksana found herself in an awkward position as her eyes met Crow's as he turned his head back, gazing at her for an answer.
"I-I'm looking for my brother…" she stammered.
Crow scoffed and inhaled another long puff. "Why? He's probably dead." Flustered, Roksana bit her lip and jabbed the needle at his wound purposely.
"Ow!" the loner hissed as he glared at her with sudden contempt. Roksana gave an insincere apology and resumed her stitching, as if nothing happened. The smell of burnt nicotine filled the room, much to Roksana's dismay. She hated smoking and her face was suddenly swept with worry, "What if my brother is dead?" she thought, after all it is the zone. Then the thought came to her, her brother lying dead over a pool of blood, his face soulless and cold. "No, my brother can't be dead! He can't!" She repeated in her heart a number of times, trying to escape herself from the dark grasp of probability and logic. After all, hope is a funny little thing.
"So anyway," Hacky began, sparing Roksana from her thoughts. "I wanted to ask you something, since you're a merc and all. Well you used to be-"
"Get to the point." Crow said, irritated.
"Okay," Hacky learned forward as if he was about to whisper. "Have you heard the name of Sergiy Yaroslav?"
There was a small pause, "There are two Sergiy Yaroslavs in the zone, but I only know one." Crow mused over, retracing back his time with his old faction.
"Do you mean the mercenary Sergiy Yaroslav?"
"You mean ex-mercenary Sergiy Yaroslav, and yes I met him only once and that was in Wild Territory."
"Where is he now?"
"He was assigned to Yantar, to work and do errands for Professor Sakharov. Right before Wolfhound's band merged their faction with the bandits'." Crow gritted his teeth and crushed his cigarette as the word 'bandits' came out of his mouth. "I don't know what happen to him since then."
A lead, finally! Hacky thought to himself smiling. Crow proved to be more useful than he intentionally thought. From the moment he entered the ring to fight his friend and the bloodsuckers, Hacky knew saving him was worth his time.
"How is Sergiy like?" Roksana asked, almost quietly.
"He's a good shot, always sharp and vigilant. I can tell he was a man of honor even though I spoke with him briefly." Crow praised with a smile and then it struck him. "Is he your brother?"
"Yes he is."
Silence fell for a short while before Ivantsov and Arnie entered the room, the latter had a wide grin across his face.
"Thanks to you, I'm a king for a day!" Arnie said gleefully. He was smoking a big fat cigar and gave Roksana a dirty wink, making her cringe. Ivantsov on the other hand, stood like a sentry, his face veiled by his gas-mask but even so Crow knew that he was staring at him peculiarly.
"So what's next? Can I go?" Crow asked monotonously, ignoring Ivantsov.
Arnie nodded, still smiling. "You're free to go stalker…" the once mutant-smuggler then revealed a wad of rubles in the form of five-hundreds and handed to the injured comrade. "…and here's for your trouble my friend. Also if you happen to be out of money and feel like you need a good fight, come to me."
"You're not supposed to give the prisoner a reward." Ivantsov protested.
"He's not a prisoner, not anymore at least." Arnie corrected and turned around, bidding farewell as he left the medical bay with haste.
"It seems eleven months in Duty has made even you into a tight ass, huh Ivan?" Hacky jeered. Ivantsov kept quiet and Crow let out a sigh of relief, he was free now and felt that was the shortest time he spent in a prison. He threw the money aside and left it uncounted.
A man wearing a balaclava carrying a heavy rucksack over his shoulder stumbled inside the infirmary not long after that, he was covered in dirt from head to toe and his yellow leather jacket soaked in dried blood. The visitor was clutching his stomach, making it palpable that he was recently shot. Tolik limped his way towards the group, sweating and breathless.
"Ah Tolik!" Hacky greeted "Got your message! I see you guys recovered my PDA. Say, where's Flash?"
"Tolik!" Roksana cried in joy. Only to soon realize that he was in pain, she quickly sprung from the bed and embraced him. "You're injured!"
"I'm fine," He said weakly and turned to Hacky. "Flash is dead."
"What?" Hacky said as he stood up, shocked. "How could this happen?"
Tolik told the whole story about the Spetsnaz attack that came out of nowhere, the sniper that ended Flash's life in a single headshot and how he barely made it out alive and escaped. After he was done telling, Hacky's expression of disbelief stayed with him until the end of the story, he couldn't believe his luck.
"I just sent the poor boy to his death," Hacky muttered with a sorrow tone.
"It wasn't your fault Yadviga, if there was anyone to blame it's the Spetsnaz." Ivantsov said. Tolik nodded his head in agreement and handed Hacky his PDA and his rucksack.
"Fucking army dogs!" Tolik swore in anger.
"Flash…" Crow whispered. "He saved my life."
Everyone turned to Crow, bemused. Roksana didn't know who this Flash was, but even so she felt sorry for him and felt it was a shame they did not meet, for they might have been fast friends. Ivantsov heard of Flash's daring adventures in the zone, how he and a friend of his single-handedly fooled a group of bandits and stole all their belongings and his encounter with Major Chekhov and his squad was nothing more than a deer hunt thanks to his exceptional sniping ability. To some, his stories have made him immortal and to his close friends, his outgoing personality had made him easily likeable to anyone he shakes hands with. But to most, Flash was just another dead guy in the zone.
"He was meant to join our group as soon as he retrieved my stuff…" Hacky explained to Crow. "But the zone took him before we could even begin our journey."
"So what's our next course of action?" Crow smirked.
Crow stood up after Roksana finished patching up his fourth wound, "Yeah, if you're heading to Yantar then count me in. I have some unfinished business to take care of."