Chapter XIII: Mindwarping and risky profit

 Boris Unforgiven had achieved much during his time in the Zone. He had been a loner once, getting quite good until the bandits mugged him and made him their gladiatorial pit slave. Boris was quite good at it, but that backfired and he was disposed of, getting him a ticket to the renegades. Crawling his way to the top, Boris joined the mercenaries after quite an uphill battle. His next mission would finally change it for him. He would retake his position in the Zone, as a trusted and respected stalker. The Brain Scorcher awaited.

Yet Boris needed protection. Both in a mental and physical form. The exoskeleton he currently had was still a relic from his renegade past. It was cobbled together from all sorts of parts, and only thing really making it an exoskeleton were the servos and hydraulics moving the thing alongside his movements. He'd need something much better if he was to storm the Brain Scorcher. Dushman had had something in his inventory that caught Boris' eye. A Mercenary Nosorog, coloured blue and covered in bulletproof armour. The thing commanded respect, and would be just the thing Boris needed. He had drooled for it quite a bit until he realized he could never afford it. It cost over 200 000 rubles, far more than the meager sum Boris had collected.

Boris decided that he could make do with what he currently had. He'd just need some psychic protection from Yantar. Once again Boris left Dead City and traveled to Army Warehouses, where for once peace reigned. No sounds of gunfire or mutant howling could be heard. Boris started strolling to the Freedom base, Leshiy, the local guide, knew of a shortcut to Yantar. Besides, Duty was not big on mercs and even less on renegades, and Boris would be shot on sight. He still had a Duty uniform stashed away but he didn't have the equipment or funds to repair it. Leshiy would probably give him a discount for being an ex-mercenary himself.

Boris' thoughts were stopped by ominous droning in his ears. A screeching noise pierced his eardrums, and instinctively Boris seeked shelter behind some concrete blocks. It was too late. A controller, almost naked one (eugh, Boris thought) with black, dirty hair, hit him with a psychic pulse. Boris could feel his thoughts get heavy, his thinking feeling slow and unprecise. But he made it to cover. Something started pinging off the edges of the concrete block. Automatic gunfire and shotgun blasts eroded the block around him, but the shots were about as accurate as Military intel of the Zone. The controller had Zombified guard with him, so that's why the place was so quiet, Boris managed to think. He felt like he had just downed 20 bottles of vodka. His aim was off and his vision blurry.

But it got worse. The controller was closing in, and with every step, it weakened Boris' sanity. It spoke inside his head, taunting him, calling for him, laughing at him. Boris felt partially in control of his body but also not. He felt himself grabbing a grenade, his fingers preparing to pull the pin of. Boris threw it, at his feet. This shook some of the control off, and Boris leaped to cover, his mind a bit clearer. The grenade exploded, but Boris was safe. The controlling bastard was very close, he could hear it. He jumped from behind the block and landed right in front of the thing. It was taken by surprise, hell, Boris was just as taken by surprise. But Boris acted first. Two swings from his kukri and the monster collapsed. The voices stopped, his mind was free.

Boris couldn't bother with the Zombies, and quickly scalped the controller. Scientists at Yantar could possibly use these. He then legged it as fast as he could to the Freedom base. He was still extremely disoriented and dizzy, but finally he was safe. It was getting late though, so Boris rested for the night and then visited Leshiy. For a small sum, he agreed to take Boris to Yantar, and the pair set off. They traveled via abandoned pipe systems until they reached a view of the plant. Leshiy turned back and wished Boris luck on his mission, Boris nodded back and started heading towards the scientist bunker. What Boris had not anticipated however was that the Miracle Machine was on and transmitting right as Boris stepped out of the pipe. It was like his encounter with the controller just a day earlier, but it was worse. Thousand voices screamed in his head, some speaking Ukrainian, others English, others languages Boris did not know and some even speaking things that Boris felt like he had never heard before but that were familiar in a deeply unsettling way. Boris ran. He ran as fast as he could, not thinking of anything but getting out of here. Behind him a pair of snorks started following, their wheezing joining the cacophony inside his head.

Boris outran them, and a pair of scientist started using their Protectas on the mutants. Boris did not stop to thank them, the voices were louder, so loud that they overran any meaningfull thought. They yelled at him to join the Monolith, praise the Vyraj, kill himself, kill the scientists, save them, save himself. Boris kept running. It was as if he suddenly crossed some unknown barrier, but out of the blue the voices stopped. Silence. Blessed be the silence. Boris collapsed to the ground. He had not felt so relieved and exhausted ever before. Somehow, he had survived. He sat there for hours, regaining all the mental and physical strength he had lost. When his legs could once again carry him, he moved to the scientist bunker. Sakharov greeted him, and Boris started talking with the old scientist about the nature of the Zone, the lab emitters, mutants and the like. Sakharov was surprised but also excited to find a mercenary who had a great knowledge of the Zone, and shared lot of interesting scientific info with Boris.

Boris decided to bite the bullet and ask if Sakharov had anything he could use to shield himself from the psi-emitters. Sakharov told him that he did have an experimental helmet, but he was not that excited to give it away. He asked what Boris needed it for, and Boris replied that he'd need to shut down the emitters. You mercs are probably doing it for profit, Sakharov guessed, but Boris shook his head. Honestly, he replied, I'm doing it to gain back the reputation I lost. I've got something to prove, and I might as well do it in a way that benefits everyone. Sakharov seemed to think for a moment until he replied: Well, in that case, I think you could be trusted with it. Just do not break it. And while you're at it, could you shut down the local psi-emitter? Take that as a compensation mission for us even giving you the helmet. Boris agreed, and Sakharov said he'd get to work on calibrating the helmet. Meanwhile if Boris wanted, he could do some tasks for him. Boris, chronically short on cash, agreed.

Boris spent the couple of days doing menial tasks for Sakharov, running around Garbage, Great Swamps and Agroprom collecting scientific data, hunting mutants and fetching lost devices. While he did that, he also collected artefacts. Most of them were junk, useless pretty things that would net him some cash. Others had some actual value, but were a pain to carry around in big lead boxes. Boris was glad to have a lead box on him however when he was returning to Yantar after completing each of the tasks Sakharov had given him. He decided to check the gravitational anomaly in Agroprom, expecting to find some low level artefact like Sun in there. Suddenly a massive red eerie looking thing appeared in front of him. He felt something extremely terrifying grasp at him when he looked at it. At the same time however, he realized what he was looking at and smiled. A Death Lamp. As he placed it into the lead lined container he had, he thought to himself: if I survive with this to Sakharov, I will get myself that Nosorog. Looks like the Zone is smiling upon me for once. About time too for that.