Rostok Outskirts, a few hours later.
By the time I reached the familiar places from the game, it was already late evening. The sun was setting, bathing the sky, which had cleared somewhat from the gray clouds, in an orange-red light, shimmering in the large and small puddles on the gray, cracked asphalt. The distant outlines of
the factory were already visible, huge pipes from which no smoke had come for a long time. I myself was walking along a road laid between two steep cliffs, bypassing scattered and thoroughly rusted cars.
After another half hour, I reached a low fence running from one of the factory buildings and bordering the cliff, and saw that I was almost there. Only a little bit left, I'll find a place to camp there, let my legs, buzzing from the long trek, rest, and gather my thoughts to figure out where to start searching for the keycard.
In a small clearing, dotted with bushes and trees, located to the right of the road, a pack of blind ones was playing merrily, running after each other with loud barks. My appearance in their field of vision made them stop abruptly, peering at me with their blinded faces, and sniffing my scent. Then, apparently satisfied with the result, hah, of their analysis, they continued their frolic, no longer paying any attention to me.
I continue along the road, noting that there was no ravine with stakes, as in the first part, nor a skeleton hanging on the wall of a side building, in front of which a pile of large, red, metal containers mixed with concrete pipes, lined with iron and slabs from the inside, was arranged. So, that was Dolg's invention, right? It's even interesting how much such fortifications helped them…
I walk further, into the depths of large concrete boxes, finding myself squeezed on one side by a building, on the other – by a high fence. True, to my right, there was another passage with a road leading east. There, according to the PDA maps, there should be a large graveyard of abandoned equipment. However, I won't be swimming in such radiation without a proper suit.
Now that I had finally arrived at the location, I had to decide in which part of the factory to set up camp. It should be a good place, preferably underground, and spacious enough to hang my things. The only thing that came to mind was the premises of the future bar "Sto Rentgen" (100 Roentgen). Therefore, reaching the end of a small but wide street, I turn left and enter the open metal gates, finding myself in a large building with high ceilings and several cisterns completely overgrown with anomalous moss.
I go to the exit, bending slightly so as not to get burned accidentally, and finally emerge into the main territory. Grass grew everywhere, remnants of past debris, and rare traces of dark brown dried blood. No human foot had stepped here for a long time, let alone the development of these places… Dolg will have to try hard to clean and clear out all the excess here.
Before me stretched a large, rectangular building several stories high, combined with a tall brick tower, whose top was built of boards. The Arena… It will be interesting to wander there in my free time, as well as the future base of Dolg. Perhaps I'll find something interesting there, but that's not the point now. I turn left, go straight, and before reaching another hangar, I turn again, this time – into a small brick annex, from which I emerge into a small alcove leading to the future bar. And all this time, I actively turn my head around, looking around. No mutants, no anomalies, until I noticed.
I step on the wet concrete tiles laid in a path until I find myself in front of a door locked with a padlock and a laminated sign "Factory Canteen." Ha-a, so that's how it was. I throw my backpack onto the wet ground, stretch my stiff shoulders and shoulder blades before squatting down and starting to pick the lock. It opened, albeit with difficulty, but quite quickly, revealing an internal corridor of white brick with various Soviet posters along the perimeter of the walls.
I pick up my backpack, go inside, and close the door behind me. Although there are few people here, and I don't need to fear mutants, thanks to the Zone for that, it will be much calmer to be in an enclosed space. That's one thing about the Zone, it knows how to create tension very well. I don't hurry to go down the stairs yet, shining my flashlight in the darkness, and find a small switch on the right wall. I flick it, and for the first few seconds nothing happens, until with a quiet but persistent hum, the lamps overhead begin to turn on.
"It works," I whisper, licking my chapped and cracked lips. "One less problem…"
If the light bulbs work, I might even be able to cook something on a proper stove. Although… I'm not sure they're in proper working order. Well, screw it, there's light, and that's good.
After a couple of flights of stairs, I reach a large, almost wall-sized bulletin board, covered with a thick layer of dust. I suppress the urge to wipe it off with my sleeve and instead take out pre-prepared rags from my backpack, and only after that remove the dust. And I whistle in surprise – announcements from different eras were side-by-side on one board.
"Comrades, the management of the Rostok factory has decided to hold a socialist song contest on the eve of Cosmonautics Day and Vladimir Ilyich Lenin's birthday! Applications for participation are accepted by the Komsomol secretary E.V. in office 210 of the administrative building!"
"I ask to bring the moral character of the employee of the technical department, Krakovetsky V., for public discussion…"
"Colleagues, I inform you that leaving the guarded territory without personal defense equipment is strictly prohibited!"
And there were many such notes. Moreover, the last one was much newer than those it was pasted over, which was clear from its content. It seems that the Rostok factory was used right up until the emission in 2006, which means that besides the keycard, it might be possible to find some interesting papers here. Although… the probability of that would be close to zero – it's not such a secret object as the laboratory.
I didn't bother reading the other announcements, but simply went further, descended from a small wooden step, and found myself in a large hall, plunged into semi-darkness even despite all the light bulbs burning on the ceiling. A faint hum came from the electronics, and I looked around. The future bar itself was much larger than its in-game version, after all, it was a former factory canteen. Dark wooden floors, many tables, chairs, both intact and not, white brick walls, and that famous counter, which was now cluttered with kitchen containers for serving dishes with long-dried contents. The entire room was literally drowning in dust.
But I need to go further. I want to go through and see what's in the back rooms. So I approach the bar counter, turn right, and enter a narrow corridor of red brick with three passages. The first, on the left, turned out to be a small storage room for various mops, chemicals, and so on. The second, located straight down the corridor, was closed by an old grate. That's probably the kitchen with the pantry. I'll break the lock a little later, so I go into the right, third passage.
I flick the light switch and find myself in a small but cozy room with a couple of sofas, cabinets, and even a safe. Five tables were arranged in the shape of a "T" and on them lay a pile of old documents, but the most important detail of this room is the factory plan of Rostok, hanging on one of the walls. This alone greatly simplifies my search – I won't have to guess whether a building is administrative or not. I don't believe that a representative of the C-Consciousness would hide a keycard in some garage or technical room.
I exhale with relief and drop my backpack on the floor, and immediately close the door behind me. I fall onto the dusty sofa, stretching my legs and closing my eyelids to rest a little.
After some time, I get down to stalker routine. I undress, hang my clothes to dry, lay out the contents of my backpack, and think about what to cook for dinner. Speaking of cooking. I still need to go to the kitchen and see if I can use the stove and local dishes… Hmm, I should also check the plumbing, maybe it works and doesn't radiate too much?
I pick up lockpicks from my jumpsuit and head to the locked grate, managing to open it after a few minutes. It took some effort, of course, but I hope it was worth it. Then I walk down the dark corridor, illuminating my way with a pale flashlight, until I stumble upon a light switch. I flip it, and… Nothing. The light in this part of the bar didn't work for some reason. Perhaps some problem with the wiring, but searching for the cause of the malfunction in the dark with only a flashlight is not a great idea.
I return, closing the grate behind me, and begin preparing dinner. I take out a few tablets of dry fuel, a couple of stands for them, and place two heating devices on the table, lighting them. On one of them, I put a Turkish coffee pot full of water with a detachable handle – a legacy from the Hunter, to make it easier to boil small amounts of water in field conditions, on the other – rice with some meat from a ration.
"Ha-a," I exhale, pulling a tea bag out of its packaging and placing it in a metal mug. "Tired of eating canned food…"
Soon, the intertwined, aromatic scent of black tea and warmed food began to spread through the small room. I took the rice packaging off the fire, burning my fingertips, and covered the fuel tablet with a pre-found glass jar, cutting off the oxygen supply. When the flame finally died out, I was about to start eating, but a creak of floorboards echoed from the corridor.
I jumped up, grabbed my assault rifle, checked its readiness for combat, and took a position by the wall, ready to open fire. Even from here, I could hear the pathetic groan of the planks under someone's weight. Whoever it was, they weighed at least two hundred kilograms, if not more. Could it be someone in an exoskeleton? But there was no sound of servos... A moment passed, and this someone reached the door, opened it, and
entered. And a moment later, the head of a bloodsucker appeared in the doorway.
Black-grey, bald skin, crisscrossed with numerous pale scars and full of swollen veins, long dark tentacles hanging half a meter from the chin of this creature. The monster turned its head from side to side until it noticed me. Then the bloodsucker took a step inside and straightened its mighty back as much as its species allowed. Even hunched over, this monster was several heads taller than me. Broad shoulders, bulging muscles under rain-slicked skin, visible abs on its stomach, and piercing dark red eyes.
It studied me for a long time, tilting its head. And I realized that this was perhaps the most intelligent bloodsucker I had ever encountered. Instead of the slight dullness in its eyes, as with that trio in the Dark Valley, here I clearly saw the beginnings of understanding. This was a very dangerous opponent, very. So old that its skin was already showing age spots, and the insane number of scars on its body clearly indicated that this bloodsucker had emerged victorious from more than a dozen battles.
And it was completely unafraid of the weapon in my hands. Although other mutants, when I wasn't hunting, didn't sense any aggression from me, they still eyed my Kalash with suspicion. But this one... It didn't care, it knew for sure that this weapon could only do it minor harm. If it weren't for the ability granted to me by the Zone, I would already be dead. A single blow from its clawed paw would have killed me on the spot.
"Perhaps some tea?" I said, setting aside my assault rifle and watching the handsome creature's reaction. Zero emotion.
I walked over to the table, picked up the hot mug of fragrant drink, and offered it to the bloodsucker as a sign of good intentions. Unlikely, of course, that it would drink it, but... At that very moment, the mutant carefully, almost with its huge claws alone, took it from my hands and brought it to its face, sniffing it, causing its tentacles to move. And then it took the mug and, in one motion, turned it over, pouring the contents into its deformed mouth. Then it closed its eyes, winced slightly, and its tentacles began to twitch in all directions.
"I'm sorry, there's no blood," I shrugged, taking the mug from its paws.
The bloodsucker shook its head slightly, swaying its tentacles back and forth, then cast a quick glance at me and finally left, leaving the doors wide open behind it. And I, trembling, fell onto the sofa, exhaling loudly. Despite everything, it was creepy.
Rostok Factory, near the former canteen.
For the first time in a long time, Strong Love felt the rage that had plagued him for years at the sight of humans subside. The strange man who appeared on his territory was... strange? It was clear that he was nervous when he met him, but he didn't rush to attack and even put away his assault rifle first, as if he knew that the monster wouldn't tear him apart the moment he threw his weapon aside.
And the tea... He hadn't drunk it for a very, very long time and had even missed its taste, although he had always preferred coffee. After all, with paws like his, preparing something like that was very difficult. And this small steaming mug was one of the few things that allowed him to feel like his old self for a moment.
Then the bloodsucker reached one of the few remaining panes of glass and looked at his reflection, feeling hatred and disgust boil in his chest. The elegant tattoo "Strong Love" under his collarbone was almost no longer visible...
Damn those scientists.
Rostok Factory, the next morning.
After yesterday's unexpected encounter, there were no more surprises, and I was able to sleep soundly. The bruise on my torso was healing rapidly and caused almost no discomfort when moving. It was good that the incident with Lisa was limited to just bruises, and not something much worse.
Then my thoughts smoothly shifted to today's concerns, as I had to search for a needle in a haystack. The territory around me was vast, and the key card could have gotten lost anywhere; I could only hope that luck would accompany my search. By the way, I found nothing interesting in the desk drawers or in that pile of papers. Just ordinary notes about assignments, food expenses, and other things that the heads of the food sector usually dealt with.
With these thoughts, I got up from the sofa and began my morning routine. Instead of a refreshing shower, I used a large number of wet wipes, carefully brushed my teeth, trying not to waste too much water, warmed up a light snack, and checked if my clothes had dried. Slightly damp, but it would do; the weather should be good today. I had a feeling. And it didn't let me down. When I left the basement canteen, the sun had long since risen above the horizon and was intensely warming the earth, still wet from yesterday's rains.
My path lay through the Wild Territory, the factory complex was too large, and all the administrative buildings were located on the very border of this territory. Therefore, the day promised to be not very cheerful – wandering all over the location in search of a key card that had gotten lost somewhere. It would be especially frustrating if it turned out to be somewhere in this part of Rostok.
I cheerfully turned around and almost tripped over the dead body of a blind dog. It lay in an unnatural pose, its front and hind legs pointing in different directions relative to each other, and its spine was twisted several times. The dog was still warm, meaning it had died very recently, and there were no signs of blood draining from it. Did it decide to share its food in return for the tea it drank? What a polite bloodsucker. Well, I couldn't eat it, no matter how much I wanted to – I couldn't bring myself to cook a dog. Alas, my friend, your gesture of reciprocity will remain here untouched.
I got up from my squat and continued on my way, heading west. I walked around concrete slabs and pipes, scraps of various metal objects, and other bulky debris, and found myself in a small courtyard behind the future arena. And it was quite nice here. Uncracked asphalt, laid curbs, and wild blooming bushes in a circle. If only the burnt-out hulk of a truck in the middle of all this prosperity wasn't there, it would have been even better.
I walked further along the asphalt until I accidentally looked to the right and saw human heads impaled on metal poles stuck in the ground along the road. For a single moment, I felt sickened by this unprecedented cruelty. It was one thing to simply eat someone, and quite another to mutilate them like this... I looked closer at them, noting that most of the heads were clearly several months old. From those, almost nothing remained except dried blood, rare pieces of skin, and a skull. But there were fresh ones among them.
I looked away, cursing inwardly. This mutant was clearly a master at catching people, and... it would cause a lot of problems for Dolg and the stalkers when they tried to settle the Barrens. Of course, it wasn't my business, and I wasn't too bothered by other people's deaths, but for some reason, it seemed that we would soon become enemies. By then, I would need to prepare thoroughly and think about how to take down such a cunning beast.