Chapter V: An outcasts new beginning?

 Boris sat up on the edge of a tower in the middle of Truck Cemetery. Dimuha and Vityukha had headed back to Dark Valley the day after Boris' guiding failure. The bandits had gotten plenty of Monolith gear from the corpses, and had thrown a party for Boris to thank him for guiding the fanatics to their line of fire. The exoskeleton had been ruined, the suit being penetrated from multiple places and thus the bandits had forgotten about it. The biggest one of them, Vadim Anti-Air, had gotten the Protecta.

Boris dangled his feet from the ledge, feeling nothing under his feet. Ground was maybe ten meters below. Perfect place for a snipers nest, he thought. He had been there for hours already, unsure as to what to do. He could return back to Dark Valley and become a full-time bandit. His original plan of becoming the renegade leader seemed extremely distant. Striking back at other factions seemed even more so. But he was not ready to give up. He just needed to become a trusted ally to the factions, gain intelligence on their weaknesses. If he knew the factions inside out, he could strike at their lowest point. The renegades were scattered and weak, true, but with good leadership they could be made a true force of nature. He just needed time and resources to prepare.

Boris stepped up. He had been sitting there for far too long. The night was coming, but he could still make it to the bandit camp. If he spent the night there, he could move to Army Warehouses and begin working for Freedom to gain their trust. His thought were interrupted by distant sound of gunfire. Boris grabbed his Mosin rifle and through the optic observed the far away gunfight. Dutyers and Zombies it seemed. Boris had never been a fan of Duty, they were too militaristic and authoritative to him. Thus, working for Freedom seemed natural for him. The matter was helped by the looser background checks and attitude of Freedomers.

Boris observed the machine-filled graveyard through his binoculars for some time more. The firefight died out. Duty had won. But they had no time to celebrate, as Boris saw packs of dogs, fleshes and boars heading their way, attracted by the gunfire. This was perfect moment to cross the wasteland between the tower and bandit camp. Boris jumped to the second platform and ran down the stairs to floor level when something caught his eye. The exoskeleton. The bandits had left it there in their hangover from the night before. Boris grabbed the wreck and glanced it over. It was mostly ruined, but the servos and skeletal parts seemed okay. Perhaps he still had use for those. The bandit technician at the camp was an odd fellow, never that quick to catch sleep, so Boris could even get him to fix the parts into his suit if he was quick about it.

With new energy and a feeling of adventure he had not felt since his loner days, Boris crossed through the wreck-littered corridors, his trusty double-barrel shotgun swaying on his hip as he walked. Bolt by bolt he made his way, checking anomalies in the darkness. Only when the lights of the bandit camp shimmered through a beaten up BTR-80 did he relax a little bit. It was an odd feeling for him. For so long he had associated bandits with fear and anger, but now? He mostly felt relief. At least someone had his back in this twisted world. Eventually he would have to destroy them too of course, they were the reason he was in this mess. But, until then, he'd enjoy their company and the safety they brought. He made it to the camp, greeted some of the outlaws by the fire and gave his suit and the exo parts to the technician. He was the reason the man even had tools, so he got a nice discount. Boris headed out and joined the bandits by the fire. The odd sensation of new things to come filled him still, and he enjoyed himself for the first time in forever. Perhaps, the Zone wasn't so bad after all. And he would make it his eventually.