Chapter LI: The Stalkers of Crimson and Black

 The morning in the Meadow begun as picture-perfect as one can get in the Zone. Sun shined down onto the large halls of the factory, and only signs of animal life were some insects chirping and a lone raven croaking on top of the factory. A few Redemption members kept watch at the factory entrance, seemingly suffering from a nasty case of hangover. Everything seemed perfectly serene, the howls of mutants distant and the normal sense of danger that the Zone posessed a little less prevalent. Suddenly, a shout came from the factory, shaking up the guards and startling the raven into flight.

• For fucks sake Boris, what have you done to this poor thing!

The source of the voice was Polymer, inspecting the incredibly beaten up and decimated Mercenary Nosorog in front of him. Boris was standing nearby in a undersuit, stroking his beard nervously.

• Hey, you don't go storming the CNPP and fight for months without a little damage, he protested to the technician.

• A little damage? A LITTLE DAMAGE? Look at this! The servos are rusty and scratched, the powerplant is running barely at all, the frame is bent, burned, corroded and rusty. And look at these polyethylene plates. There's bullets still stuck in them, and more holes than in Swiss cheese. The kevlar plates meanwhile are rusty as fuck, and have taken heavy shrapnel damage, and then there's the various different textiles and fabrics that have been damaged and some have even melted. When I agreed to help you guys with repairs, I wasn't expecting to be repairing armour in this condition!

• Do what you can, take your time. I'll get my renegade exoskeleton out in the meantime, Boris said apologetically, and Polymer raised his eyebrow at him. As Boris went to grab his old armour from his stash, Polymer looked at it with horror.

• Holy shit, I've seen plenty of abominations in my time and I went through that karlik attack with it showing me true terror, but that thing is honestly the most horrifying thing I have ever seen.

• Hey, it has great sentimental value to me, and it's what I've got, it'll do for now.

• Good thing it has sentimental value, that's the only value it has, Polymer remarked, getting a scathing look from Boris in return. Before Boris could reply, Dima walked in and looked at the armour Boris was holding up.

• Oh look, was there a sale at the Flea Market again?, he commented sarcastically.

• Fuck off, both of you. But Dima, wake up the people Polymer didn't wake up yet with his complaining, I'll use this armour to demonstrate the new faction colour scheme.

Fifteen minutes later, most of the Redemption faction was gathered near Boris and Polymer. Boris grabbed a few cans of paint and started paining. Slowly he moved the brush along the grey and brown lines of the renegade exoskeleton, painting the arms crimson red. Then he moved to the exosuit part of the armour, painting it black, painting the suit black from the exohelm to the shoes.

• So we'll be Duty then?, Dimuha remarked, and Boris shook his head.

• Duty might already use the red and black, but for us it signifies two things. First, red is our colour of redemption. We will gain redemption through the blood we shed for others, and our hands will be our method in achieving that, carrying weapons, killing enemies and mutants, giving help. Black signifies our past and the shame we carry with us for it, the deeds we have done. Through the remembering of our past, we carry out our deeds for redemption through our hands, channeling them and turning the black shame into red passion to see ourself redeemed.

• That's... pretty philosophical Boris, never knew you we're that allegorically aligned, Dima said, bit puzzled by this new side of his old companion.

• I like it, Gleb Hawk said, promting quite a few agreeing murmurs and nods.

• Same here, I think it fits us quite well. But what about the faction patch?, Vityukha asked.

• Here, just finished it, Stepukha commented, stepping forward and giving a piece of fabric to Boris. Boris thanked him and showed the crowd a simple patch with red stylized bird on a black base.

• A bird? What?, Dima replied.

• A phoenix, you dimwit, Boris said, chuckling and continued:

• I think a symbol of rebirth is quite appropriate for us, don't you think?

• I mean, sure, but what will Duty think of this? We are essentially stealing their colour scheme, Toshka Attorney, Redemption's artefact master, asked, and Boris shrugged.

• If they are so childish that they'll hold a grudge on us over this, then I dunno, we'll just let them cry over it in Rostok, Seryoga commented, prompting a few cheers.

• Well, whether Duty likes it or not, we'll use this for now. As for the faction leadership, I'd like to nominate Dima as my second-in-command due to his experience, Dimuha and Vityukha as my lieutenants. Toshka and Stepukha can be our warrant officers for the time being. Any objections?

No one objected, on the contrary everyone seemed to agree with the decisions. Boris explained the first set of objectives for the faction now that they were properly established. First objective would be to set up the base as properly as possible, all the facilities for it and the defences as well. Second objective would be to gain new members, which Dimuha volunteered to pursue. Third objective would be to gain as much reputation with other factions as possible, completing missions for them and overall trying to gain their respect.

Fourth objective that Boris reserved for himself and his squad would be to establish trade connections and find people capable of working as technicians, traders, medics and so on, as well as helping Hip set up her trade routes and connections. And fifth and the largest objective would be to fight the on-going mutant infestations in the Zone as well as the resurgent Monolith and Military, the Redemption working as sort of firemen of the Zone, putting down threatening sources of activity to other neutral factions.

However, the last part would be mainly pursued by Boris and his squad, as the rest of Redemption still needed to gain experience. Boris also mentioned that they would simultaneously look for places to build faction outposts and safehouses in. And of course, funds would need to be gathered to keep the faction going, although each Redemption member could still keep most of what they earned in order to survive, and all artefacts found were still personal items. Boris continued that once the base was properly set up, he'd head north to pursue these goals with Hip and Dima once more.

• What about standard equipment? Suits, weapons and ammo et cetera?, Toshka asked, looking at the hodgepodge of equipment the members of Redemption were wearing.

• We'll standardize when we get the cash and equipment for doing so, I already have some plans for that. But we'll look more into that once we get a proper trader and a permanent technician, Polymer apparently likes tinkering with all sorts of equipment, Boris replied.

• Except your butchered Nosorog, you barbarian, Polymer muttered, prompting a quick smirk from Boris.

• This was all very interesting, and I'm sure we'll get everything working properly soon enough, but there is one matter of great importance we still haven't discussed, Dimuha spoke, in a dead serious tone. Boris raised his brow at him, and he continued:

• We have many members from bandits and renegades here, and while we are ready to cast away our old factions to become members of Redemption, there is one thing that we feel is needed for us to remain a part of this faction. Can we still shout Cheeki Breeki?

• Oh for fucks sake, Dima groaned, and many of the former mercs reacted similarly.

• Fine then, if you absolutely must, Boris said with an amused grin. Dimuha's face lit up and he opened his mouth.

A shout of ANUU CHEEKI BREEKI IV DAMKE could be heard throughout the Meadow, once again startling the raven resting on top of the factory. It was followed by an incredible audible sigh by the various ex-mercs in the factory.