Shurup and Zubilo hastily get up and leave in the direction I came from, constantly looking back. It was clear that, despite the former's words about needing to leave soon, they didn't really want to leave the territory of the Rostok factory. Well, well, guys, it'll be better for you. Here you have a huge, scary bloodsucker, mercenaries, and debt collectors... And me, after all.
When they finally crossed the gate, I turn my head east - somewhere there was the administrative building I was heading to from the very beginning. And there were also anomalies, radiation, zombies, and, as the cherry on top, mercenaries. Should I go now or wait for evening... Again, I can't start a direct escalation against this squad - they'll simply kill me. Maybe not immediately, and I might even take someone with me, but if it's the second part of the group that bothered Svoboda, it's better to resort to outside help again. Especially since there's a perfect specimen of Zone fauna within arm's reach.
But to wait until they can get the keycard... Although, didn't the Bartender get it in the end anyway, right? Which means the mercenaries have little chance of finding it, or something or someone will kill them on the way back. But hoping for such an outcome is sheer stupidity - history is changeable, and I myself have changed many things one way or another.
"Haa, it's so difficult..." I whisper to myself, peering into the concrete distance. "I can't wait - they might take the card, and I can't go now - there's a high chance I'll be noticed."
Alright, it's decided. I'll break into this single-story house, take up a position, and wait until night. They definitely won't pass this place by - it's the only exit to the rest of the factory. And then I'll go hunting myself. And, possibly, I'll take one big and angry "friend" with me.
Picking the lock was not an easy task, it was too poorly preserved, and I almost broke my pick, but I managed it. I push the open door away from me and find myself in a small vestibule with another wooden door in front. But this one turns out to be open, and it's easy to pass through, and after that, I enter a long but narrow corridor in the shape of an inverted "T", at the end of which, closer to the right corner, there's a funnel that once uprooted a couple of chairs. To the left and right, there were small, murky windows, a few chairs, a couple of tables, and a "reception" - a monstrous-looking desk with closed legs in the corner of the room, on which papers were neatly stacked. Only a few of them had fallen to the ground.
I walk closer to read what's written, but in the end, I put them aside with disappointment. A list of visitors to the showers, men's and women's. So, I'm in the shower room now? If I go further, I'll reach the locker rooms, and then the showers themselves... I thought that at such a factory, the washroom would be larger. Haa. Crawling through underwear and t-shirts... Is it worth it? Does anyone even take anything important with them to the shower?
I decide not to mess with that anomaly at the end of the corridor and don't go further into the building, but simply settle comfortably on one of the few intact chairs in the reception area. This way, I won't be noticed - the glass is too murky to see anything from the street from a distance. I, in turn, have a clear view of the entire space in front of the house.
Somewhere on the Rostok factory grounds, later.
"Eh, I'd love to grill some shashlik," the mustachioed mercenary says in a deep voice, fanning himself with a broken wooden plank. "Chancellor, maybe we and the guys can go get a boar, huh? I saw a whole brood behind the fence."
The Chancellor, sitting in an old but still comfortable armchair, casts an unfriendly glance at his subordinate, and he immediately wilts at the sight of his pursed lips and knitted blond eyebrows. After that, the blond mercenary with German roots returns to his difficult thoughts. The task turned out to be much more complicated than he could have imagined. Searching for something unknown was very difficult. And the client
didn't want to share any information at all. Afraid of leaks...
The headache, pressing on his temples from inside his skull, only intensified from irritation. How many days had they spent here searching for some keycard for who knows what. Moreover, Vizier's group had stopped communicating a couple of days ago. Either the Svoboda members managed to take control of the situation in some unknown way, or the mercenary decided to play his own game. Did he somehow achieve results and connect with the client? Then the Chancellor would be in a very vulnerable position... And he wasn't going to lose his position.
Squeezing the armrests with a slight crunch, the German stands up in one motion, immediately straightening to his full considerable height. Then he surveys the now quiet guys and grunts displeasantly. They could have provided him with better people... This is what happens when you bend to your superiors. The Dushman, that old devil, took his best men and gave him these...
"Sh-shais..." one of his favorite curses in his native language finally escapes his lips. "Stop resting, work awaits us."
"Kan'ts, are you sure?" another mercenary interjects, and a murmur goes through their uncoordinated ranks. "We're all tired, we need rest... We've been scouring these ruins day and night, and there's zero benefit to the cause."
"You..." the squad leader exhales, suppressing his strong desire to show this insignificant person who's in charge. He can't. Not here. Not now... He can't risk the squad's loyalty, or he'll be killed. "You're right, Romul. We're all tired... What about, uh, boar shashlik?"
"We and the guys will organize it in a flash, okay?" the mustachioed mercenary jumps up, along with a couple of others, to which the Chancellor nods casually, agreeing.
"It would be nice to have something to drink too..." another subordinate quietly remarks. "I can shake down those stalkers..."
"You still haven't dealt with them?" the German raises an eyebrow, internally raging at what he heard. His entire being was flooded with anger mixed with fury and the desire to immediately don his exoskeleton and crush the heads of most of the people present with his bare hands.
"They don't interfere in our business," the mercenary shrugs. "And these rags are constantly in contact with Dolg. And if they notice that the stalkers were dealt with? What if Dolg or something else... In short, I think it's risky."
"It was risky to give birth to you," the Chancellor says quietly, immediately making a decision. "Shake down the wanderers for booze and kill them, dump the bodies in the anomalies. And I don't give a damn about Dolg. Execute!"
"Yes!"
Rostok Factory Shower Room, an hour later.
I was browsing through my PDA, rereading old notes about anomalies and other things, when I noticed movement in the window out of the corner of my eye. Five tall men in mercenary jumpsuits came out of the very passage I was heading to at first. They talk briefly about something and split into two groups of three and two, going in different directions. Did they decide to start searching here? Damn it!
I quickly get off the chair, grab my assault rifle, bend low, and stick to the window, watching the mercenaries. But soon I realize that my fears were unfounded. Three of them disappear from my field of vision, and the remaining pair walks only a dozen meters before stopping and smoking a cigarette. I carefully crawl out into the vestibule and hold my breath to hear what they are talking about.
"...he's completely lost it, did you see how he was bugging his eyes today?" the first voice, calm and quiet, with a hint of hoarseness, reaches me. "Good thing he let us rest properly, otherwise..."
"Quiet, you fool," the second replies, clearly looking around. "What if someone hears?"
"I don't give a damn," his interlocutor dismisses. "Once we find the key, I'll get my money, and to hell with this Chancellor - I'll go to Volkodav. I heard he's recruiting people for his squad."
"Ye-e-es? I'll have to ask our guys... Honestly, I'm also sick of all this," the second voice admits, raising its tone. "This damned factory, mutants, bloodsuckers... And the Chancellor, screw him!"
"Haha! You told me yourself: 'quiet, quiet,' and in the end?" the mercenary laughs. "Alright, those are future problems. Where are those stalkers supposed to be?"
"Who the hell knows," the second voice says. "Somewhere around here. They were digging in cars all the time, probably looking for something. Do you think they have any booze?"
"Worst case, we'll send them to the debt collectors, they always have it!"
Sounds of footsteps are heard, and I, not risking creaking the door, return to the room with windows and watch from there where the mercenary squad is heading. So, they want to have a drinking party... I could use this moment to relax them and finish them off. But Shurup and Zubilo are already gone, and they're unlikely to agree to participate in such an adventure, and I have no idea how to personally give them vodka for their entertainment. It's not like I can line up bottles on the road for them to notice. They're not fools, they definitely won't take them. And to quickly concoct a "visible" hiding place, one that wouldn't make them wonder "how is it that we didn't see it before," is also not an option.
Haa, my head is starting to hurt. So, it turns out that no matter what, the mercenaries won't be "fully" rested. Even if they find a couple of bottles, what's a liter of vodka for ten, more or less, people? And with snacks too. It would also be a good option to deal with these mercenaries, I could easily shoot them in the back with a couple of bursts. But in that case, it will be harder for me to find out where they set up their camp, and I'll also cause a serious commotion if five members of the entire squad don't return. Hmm.
It's decided. I'll follow the mercenaries to their camp as soon as the last squad returns. It's risky, of course, but for now, it's the best option. If anything, I'll just open fire and start a war for them here to the last drop of blood... Well, once I find out everything, I'll go to that bloodsucker to ask for help. I'll lead a squad of bloodsuckers right under the mercenaries' camp, and then they can handle it themselves with my fire support.
Rostok Factory, a few hours later.
The angry mercenaries returned empty-handed. They couldn't find the stalkers, and approaching the debt collectors to buy some vodka... Triple ha! The gathering promised to go poorly, because how could they relax in the company of sober and angry mercenaries who would constantly glare at you, such a clumsy person, and grumble?
"What to do..." a hoarse voice quietly says.
"The Chancellor will unleash all hell on us," the second echoes with a sigh.
And as they slowly walked forward, resigned to their fate, a stalker followed them like an invisible shadow. Not falling behind, but not getting closer than necessary, he followed their tracks without a break. Turn after turn, street after street, until they reached a small square two-story building where the mercenaries had set up camp.
"Hey, guys," the mustachioed mercenary, sent for game, calls out to them from the side. "How's it going with the spirits?"
The stalker didn't bother listening to their conversation further. He had learned the most important thing, which meant he could go get help.
Future Bar Territory, an hour later.
It was easy to say - ask that bloodsucker for help, but you have to find him first. Neither he nor other mutants were encountered on the way back. If I can't get his support, I'll have to go myself... Then it would be better to buy grenades from Dolg, if they sell them to me. Eh.
With these gloomy thoughts, I take a good spot on a small asphalted area behind a brick tower and start a fire. My stomach is already stuck to my spine and persistently asks for some food, so I take a forced break. I placed the fire between two low stacks of concrete slabs to make it easier to place the pot, and I start heating water for coffee.
And as soon as I pour the hot liquid into a metal mug, I pour in the contents of a three-in-one packet and stir it, and right behind me, the crunch of fallen branches is heard. I glance over my shoulder to see that very bloodsucker there. He was staring intently only at my mug, paying no attention to me. Has he become addicted to ordinary drinks?
"Well, if you want, then drink," I offer him a cup of instant coffee, which is immediately snatched from my hands.
The bloodsucker downs the contents of the cup into his open maw, full of small but razor-sharp teeth, and seems to grunt with satisfaction, swallowing the liquid. Then he demandingly returns the mug and points with a finger at the second coffee packet lying on the ground. I have no choice but to brew coffee several more times until I have used up all the packets. And only then did the bloodsucker calm down.
He slowly and silently sits down next to me on the green grass and stretches his monstrous legs forward, then throws his head back to the sky, admiring the fluffy clouds drifting by. I, surprised, examine him with all my eyes and only now notice the barely visible tattoo "Strong Love" under his right collarbone. Could it be...
"Are you human? Or rather, were you?" I ask him, astonished. The bloodsucker turns his face to me lazily and slowly, deeply nods, shaking his tentacles in different directions. "God... I... I sympathize with you and your losses, I'm sorry."
But the mutant's face remained as indifferent as before, and, after giving me a brief but piercing look, he turns away again. I truly felt sorry for him, sincerely, to the depths of my soul. To go through torturous experiments, to lose himself, his body, and become such a monster. But... it still wasn't an excuse for the cruelty he showed to other stalkers.
Was there something more behind it than just bloody frenzy - I don't know.
"Stronglaw," I address him by the text of his tattoo. "I need help, yours and that of other bloodsuckers. In that part of the factory, there's a mercenary squad and..."
The bloodsucker immediately jumps up, his tentacles begin to move as if in anticipation, and his body seems to twitch slightly. Just a moment, and instead of a relaxed mutant, a bloodthirsty monster ready to tear everything and everyone in its path stands before me. And then he turns his head to me and nods his chin forward, as if to say, lead on. Feeling that my new ally would not accept refusal, I agree.
Rostok Factory, the same time.
In the blood of the furious beast of Rostok, anger seethed, and a veil of rage almost obscured his vision. Only his composure, honed over years of hunting in his new body, prevented him from immediately rushing off in search of new victims. Mercenaries... Of all the other humans, only they can surpass scientists in their vile baseness. Oh, he knew a lot about them. About how they love money, and are ready to sell their best friend, their beloved woman, or their own mother for their own ass and a couple of cents. And Stronglaw could not tolerate this.
The strange man cautiously led him strictly forward, not deviating from the intended route by an inch, and the bloodsucker felt his body begin to fill with pleasure from the anticipation of a bloody bath... How long he had dreamed of settling scores with mercenaries. It didn't matter which ones, as long as they were mercenaries. For him, the boundaries between morality, honor, and revenge had long since blurred. The only thing his almost invulnerable heart desired was vengeance. And any creature connected to the Syndicate would do for him.
At the mercenaries' lair, some time later.
When the man led Stronglaw to a small, square two-story building with several rooms in the middle of the factory complex, it was slowly getting dark. Wait a little longer, and then it will be the perfect time to attack - sleepy mercenaries will be easy prey, but... The bloodsucker didn't want that. He had long since grown tired of playing games with his food, setting traps, and other pathetic tricks. The only thing he could think about now was a slaughter.
"They're in that house," the stalker points to the building in front of them. "We'll wait for night and..."
But Stronglaw, before whose eyes a bloody veil appeared, didn't even listen further, immediately switching to invisibility mode. And with wide leaps across the entire area, he reached the house, on the porch of which a couple of mercenaries had just come out to smoke in the fresh air. A sweep of a clawed paw from bottom to top, and the mutant's sharp claws plunge into the chin of the mercenary who didn't have time to understand anything, and he falls upwards like a rag doll, dangling on the mutant's claws.
The intoxication of power. That's what Stronglaw felt, dealing with his victims. And this battle was no exception. When the moaning mercenary tried to do something, the mutant instantly, with all his available strength, slammed the unfortunate's head, crushing it against the brickwork. His partner only took a few steps back, grabbing his assault rifle and shouting:
"Blood!.." but the mutant didn't let him finish. A short lunge, and grabbing the mercenary by the chest, the bloodsucker tears his jumpsuit, immediately latching onto the exposed skin of his body, drinking him dry in a few gulps, as if from intense thirst. But even that wasn't enough for the mutant, so during this tea party, he twisted the joints of his arms and tore his muscles, enjoying every moment of the pain he inflicted.
"Damn, what is this... Fire!" one of the approaching mercenaries shouts, immediately aiming his assault rifle at the doorway and squeezing the trigger.
Others follow his example, completely emptying their weapon magazines. And as soon as the last casing falls to the ground, and a light smoke from the weapons spreads through the room, the mercenaries exhale with relief for a moment. They managed it, they killed that damn monster that appeared out of nowhere, but suddenly... As soon as the white smoke dissipates, they see the bloodsucker standing just a few steps away from them, covering his head with thick, muscular arms. One second, and all the bullets that hit his body begin to hiss and leave his body, falling with a clang onto the concrete.
And Stronglaw lunges forward, delivering powerful blows and crushing the mercenary formation. Another series of shots follows, but the mutant doesn't care about the pain. In an instant, he climbs the stairs, tearing bodies with his claws. But then a huge wall grows out of nowhere, repelling him. A huge iron fist slams into the bloodsucker's cheekbone, knocking him off his feet. Stronglaw rolls down the stairs and flies out into the street, and behind him, a steel giant emerges into the light - a tall mercenary in heavy power armor and without a weapon.
As the bloodsucker fails to get back on its feet, the man in the armor literally flies up to it, delivering a strong blow to its ribs with the toe of his metal boot, causing a juicy and unpleasant crunch of the monster's bones. The mutant, despite all the pain, silently breaks away, disappearing into invisibility, and while the mercenary tensely scans his surroundings, he immediately delivers powerful blows with clenched fists, drawing blood, to the exoskeleton's body. The mercenary maintains his balance and swings his left arm wide from right to left, cutting the air with a powerful strike, but Stronglaw dodges and, grabbing onto the protruding elements of the armor with his clawed paws, pulls with all his might, almost tearing them off the exoskeleton.
The last members of the mercenary squad ran to help their leader, but they were immediately cut down by a burst of automatic fire from the bushes. And the commander didn't have time to recover before he lost his last men. With a loud roar, he lunges at the bloodsucker, trying to knock it down, but ends up falling himself.
"I have nothing to fear," thought the Chancellor, licking the drops of sweat streaming down his lips. "If this shais could have killed me, he would have shot me already, my armor is too tough for him! I'll kill the creature and refresh that scum!"
The bloodsucker lunges down at him, pounding the mercenary's helmet, shoulders, and chest with its paws. The latter, trying to pacify the bloodsucker, tightly clenches his fingers on the monster's thighs and begins to tear its flesh, piece by piece, wanting to scare the mutant away with pain.
But the maddened Stronglaw didn't care. About pain, about life, about death. He knew this armor, he knew this mark. The Syndicate! He would kill them all, tear them apart, and impale their heads on spikes! Just as the bloodsucker had done before with its enemies!
Then the Chancellor, grinding his teeth from the strain, tries to tear off the heavy monster that is pressing down on him. The servomotors roar, and at some point, technology begins to gain the upper hand over nature, and the mercenary, after a time that seemed like an eternity, flips Stronglaw onto his back. In a rage, the man tears off several tentacles from the bloodsucker, causing its terrible muzzle to stream with black blood, and, feeling drunk on adrenaline, is about to deal with his enemy when...
A revolver barrel appears before his eyes, aimed at the weakest part of the armor – a small layer of hardened bulletproof glass. A shot, and the mercenary's head is thrown back. And this moment was enough for the bloodsucker to regain the upper hand over its already doomed opponent.