As soon as we pass the checkpoint of several stern Duty members at the entrance to the base, I look around carefully. To my right was a small stone building with a wooden tower right behind it, a few meters away. In a wooden window with a missing pane, I could see several stalkers in black and red suits, loudly playing blackjack.
To my left were hangars, and in the very last one, just like in the game, was a bar from which some pop music was quietly playing. Closer to the entrance, it was cluttered with various junk, such as the most diverse and rusty metal scraps and boxes. Further away were tables, already occupied by stalkers. Above the entrance hung a torn red sign with the inscription "STOP," and just below it was the name of the establishment - "Peaceful Atom." Is this some kind of reference?
And directly opposite our small squad stood three buildings. The closest of them, and the largest, a full three stories, was the main one. Its side, facing me, was painted with some colorful drawing depicting three scientists in white lab coats with textbooks in their hands. Unfortunately, the bright paint, which had retained its color, had crumbled in places. The faces of the luminaries of science were particularly affected. A little to the left was a pair of one-story buildings, one of them adapted as a warehouse with a disgusting merchant, and the other, with a helipad, was the refuge of a local hunter and taxidermist, whose works were also there. However, that's how it was in the game, and here, maybe, things have changed.
"Here we are," Belazov grins with relief, turning to us and the mercenary, and removing his black hood from his head. "You were going to see Comrade Krylov, weren't you? Then you need to go to the three-story building, to
the very top. If the general is free, he'll surely see you. And if you want to rest, you're welcome to the bar, the prices are quite democratic, hehe. Only I don't advise you to go to our merchant, over there, you'll just spoil your mood with his jokes. And he won't sell you anything valuable without approval from higher-ups. So, a brief tour of our base. Any questions?"
"No, thank you very much," I say with a grateful smile, extending my hand and shaking the sergeant's strong, calloused palm. "I'll treat you tonight."
"For what?" he raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"For the help and answers to my questions," I reply with a smirk, after which the long-timer laughs.
"Ha, we and the guys will be happy!" he says after a short pause. "Alright, men, I'm going. I want to rest, and you have your own business. See you tonight."
"See you tonight," I say goodbye to him, while the silent mercenary watches him go. "Well, shall we go?"
"Yeah."
Shram and I head straight for the entrance, passing by the boarded-up windows on the first floor, covered with scraps of rusty metal, until we reach the massive iron doors with a small eye-slit covered by a grate. There, we are met by a grim long-timer, clad in a massive red and black suit and armed with an Abakan. The guard, sizing us up, says:
"Greetings. Sergeant Krivolapov," he introduces himself. "If you want to go inside, surrender your weapons."
Exchanging glances, we silently begin to disarm. Two assault rifles, our three pistols, knives, and even the rusty axe hanging on my back are placed on the worn and scuffed desk inside the room. I could have kept the Colt, which never got a holster, but that could have led to big problems if someone decided to search us at the threshold of the general's office.
"Sergeant, can you tell me where we can find General Krylov?" I ask him, when he had lost interest in our persons as soon as we handed over all our weapons.
"Third floor," he replies curtly, without even turning his head towards me.
"Thank you."
The interior of the building was not particularly impressive. The walls were painted white on top and blue on the bottom, with paint peeling in places and exposed brickwork. The floor was cracked tiles and a lot of dirt. And in the small rooms on the first floor, there were a couple of sofas and a lot of different boxes, crates, and devices of unknown etiology. Without lingering here, I follow Shram to the stairs. And to my surprise, I discover that this small, three-story building is equipped with an elevator. My hand involuntarily reaches for the call button and presses it all the way in. Nothing happens, and the mercenary, who has already climbed a few steps, looks at me with a strange expression.
"It was worth a try," I shrug at his sigh and start climbing the stairs.
Upon reaching the third floor, we encounter two more guards standing at the entrance to the general's private room. They do not react to us and continue to stand even after we enter. Krylov is found in the far part of his room, sitting at a table. The long-timer is currently working, sorting through a pile of documents and writing something in a thick leather-bound notebook.
"Come in," he says softly in a hoarse bass, briefly lifting his head from the papers and giving us a keen glance. "And sit down. We'll talk when I'm done. There's not much left..."
Silently agreeing, we walk further into the office and sit on a faded and springy sofa against the left wall, raising small clouds of dust into the air. While the general works, I examine the room with interest. The windows are still boarded up with grates and iron sheets, and the interior decoration is no different from the rest of the building.
Krylov sits at a wide and heavy dark wood table, on which, besides a pile of documents and a white mug, an army radio station is placed, similar to the one Sidorovich had. Behind him is a stand with a stretched map of the Zone, a little to his left is a cabinet filled with books, and on the top shelf is a stuffed pseudo-dog, baring its mouth full of sharp fangs. Opposite the general's table, a couple of meters away, in the middle of the room, are six tables joined together. Apparently, important members of Duty sit here during meetings.
"Well, that's all," Krylov says with a tired, slight smile, gathering the documents into a folder, then turns in his chair towards us and leans on his right hand. "What brings you here?"
"We need to get into the underground," Shram replies. "They say you have a map of the underground communications..."
"And we do indeed have it," the general nods, getting up from his seat and approaching us. The long-timer turned out to be a tall and powerfully built man, though it's not surprising – military bearing, after all. Otherwise, he looked very much like his in-game version. The same short light-brown hair, long nose, deep wrinkle on his forehead, and deep-set eyes. "But there's... a bit of a problem. A serious problem."
"What is it?" the mercenary asks, visibly tensing and leaning forward.
"Let's just say," the long-timer pauses for a moment, rubbing his forehead. "During one of our sorties into the underground, it was decided to collapse one of the side tunnels. All sorts of vermin kept coming from that part of the underground and attacking my men, and then trying to break out. Setting up a new checkpoint just to defend against mutants would have been a waste, it was much more practical to close off access to the nearby parts of the underground communications for them. But then, as often happens, something went wrong. Either we overdid it with the amount of explosives, or these communications were too worn out. In short, not only the tunnel collapsed, but also part of the walls, opening new passages. We didn't even have time to blink before a stream of creatures poured out of these holes. Many of our men were lost there... In short, I gave the order to block all entrances to the underground, but that didn't solve the problem. We'd block one hole, and the mutants would break through a new one, as if trying to drive us out of here at any cost."
"And how do we get there now?" Shram chuckles.
"I'll help you, but in exchange for your help," Krylov says tiredly, walking over to the cabinet and pulling out a rolled-up map, then unrolling it on the table and beckoning us over. "Here, the communications plan. Here, on the lower level, is the pumping station that pumps out groundwater. Don't ask me why it's still working, I don't know. But if it's turned off, all the lower levels from which the mutants are crawling will be flooded. And don't worry, behind the pumping station is a passage to another part of the underground leading to the upper levels. I don't know what exactly you need there, but I beg you to help us, and I won't skimp on the reward. Well, are you in, eagles?"
"Yes," the mercenary agrees grimly, getting up from the sofa.
"Glad to hear it," Krylov smiles weakly, unhooking a compact radio from his belt. "Sergeant Nalivayko..."
The forest to the southeast of the "Agroprom" research institute, at the same time.
"Did someone really decide to go in there, Comrade General?" Nalivayko asks in surprise, holding a dark radio with a small crack on its casing to his face. "Yes, that's right, we'll support you."
"What is it, Comrade Sergeant?" Private Arefyev asks, glancing around warily and pointing his Kalashnikov at a wide dug pit a few steps from their makeshift shelter.
"Rejoice, brothers," the sergeant says with a wide grin and tucks the radio back into his belt. "Volunteers have been found for an underground sortie. If it all works out, we'll finally get some rest!"
"Thank God," the soldiers of the small squad exhale with relief, after which Private Zuev asks. "And how long will we have to wait for them?"
"They're already coming," Nalivayko shrugs, as a loud roar of snorks, about to emerge, is heard. The sergeant grips his rifle tighter and presses himself against the powerful trunk of a sturdy oak, shouting, "To arms!"
The Duty members raise their assault rifles, preparing to repel another mutant attack. Then, from behind the dug pile of earth, a snork slowly appears, cautiously moving forward and looking around, carefully waving its ugly snout in search of hidden prey. And as soon as it fully emerges, the stalkers open fire to kill, drowning the mutant in a hail of steel bullets.
But that snork was not the only one who decided to crawl out. After a series of loud shots, one after another, mutants burst onto the small clearing in front of the pit, immediately rushing to attack the Duty members.
"Damn it!" Arefyev shouts loudly as a snork attacks him from behind, knocking him to the ground and immediately sinking its rotten teeth into his shoulder, tearing a piece of flesh right through the suit's fabric. "Aaaah!.."
With a couple of wide leaps, covering the meters separating them, the sergeant slams the toe of his boot into the monster's chin, knocking it off his subordinate, and immediately shoots the mutant that was trying to jump at him. Having finished off the remaining snorks and making sure this attack was completely repelled, Nalivayko helps the private to his feet, sits him on a fallen tree nearby, and, barely glancing at the bleeding and torn wound, begins to provide assistance.
"Cover us!" he commands loudly to the other Duty members who immediately rushed over. "It's going to hurt now, Private..."
"Ugh!.." Arefyev hisses through his teeth as the peroxide hits the exposed flesh.
"Let's go, Comrade Sergeant!" Private Pirogov blurts out, opening fire on the snorks crawling out of the earth.
"Give me the assault rifle," the wounded man says, clutching Nalivayko's pant leg with his healthy hand. "Even with one hand, I can shoot!"
Cursing, the sergeant quickly grabs the weapon and shoves it into Arefyev's hands,
immediately joining in shooting down the approaching monsters. At first, the Duty members manage to hold back the creatures' onslaught, but with each second, there are more mutants. At one point, a lucky snork knocks Zuev down, sinking its teeth into his neck. The private, screaming in pain, empties a full magazine of his pistol into the mutant's torso, but eventually goes limp, taking his killer with him. Pirogov is caught in a vise by a couple of mutants, who also knock him down, and soon falls silent. Arefyev, trying to shoot the assault rifle with one hand, misses and hits the mutant's torso instead of its skull, and the mutant finishes what it started.
"Bitch!" Nalivayko shouts, backing away and shooting single shots at the jumping snorks until he trips over a fallen tree behind him. "Got what was coming to me..."
But then help came from an unexpected quarter. Volunteers! Stalkers unknown to the sergeant, arriving so late, methodically shoot down the creatures, not letting them get close to the sergeant sprawled on the grass. Barely getting up, he wants to re-enter the fray, but finds himself directly in front of a snork, which growls and blows foul breath from its rotten maw at the Duty member. Nalivayko doesn't have time to react as a small puff of blood erupts from the mutant's skull, and it falls dead. That was the last one.