Chapter CXIII: Cutting Off the Slug's Head

Dimuha opened a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. These were not the expensive Western production ones, just cheap Soviet leftovers, but given the current state of his faction, they would have to do. Sudden flash from his lighter lit up the gloomy surroundings, even though it was daytime the heavy grey clouds allowed little light through. He inhaled once and immediately felt the cigarette's calming effect. While finishing up the smoke, he went through his belt with the other hand, feeling the familiar grip of his Desert Eagle, the pouches with Dragunov rounds and the two fragmentation grenades he had prepared for this mission. And last was his Monolit blade, a black curved blade given to Boris long time ago, which he had passed along in turn.

These checkups had become a ritual for Dimuha. As days went by with no signs of rescuing his friends from the spatial anomaly, he grew more and more restless. Weird and wild rumours were heard all over the Zone, ranging from newly discovered areas to legendary stalkers returning and even to new factions emerging. Sakharov, Kruglov and Hermann had held an emergency meeting in Jupiter over the Zone's current situation after the mega emission. Apparently it had caused what they feared, an expansion of the Zone, but thankfully this had been limited to few kilometres, area that was already heavily cordoned off by the military.

Now Dimuha was hearing all sorts of things about international agents coming to the Zone, and old, previously unaccessible areas becoming open again. He had more pressing matters however, as intriguing as the news were. Strelok had promised to negotiate protection for Redemption remnant, and this had been given with free stalkers propping up an outpost in Meadow, but Redemption desperately needed more allies. Freedom was locked in a brutal battle with Duty, mercenaries had turned their backs on Redemption ever since losing Limansk and Clear Sky was prepping up something big according to Sidorovich.

When Dimuha realized that they were easy prey for the military, Duty or potential winners of the bandit civil war, he decided to ally with the devil he knew. Livid seemed like an even worse thug than renegades, but Dimuha knew Olivius, they went way back. If he could secure a trusted, at least to bandit standards, ally in Dark Valley, they could finally begin to push towards Generators. He was not sure how they'd save the Redemption leadership, but he knew that without them, the faction was doomed. Dimuha was a warrior, a fighter through and through, he knew how to lead in battle but he lacked Boris' diplomatic abilities and ideological fervour. With the political maneuvering Boris had pulled off, Redemption had been made into a possibility. And it would die without such in the future.

Stepukha woke Dimuha from his thoughts. The cigarette was but a stub now, already growing cold. Dimuha threw it away and nodded to his right-hand man. Stepukha nodded back and showed a message from Dimon, Olivius had been lured in. With that, Dimuha unholstered his SVDS and rounded up the Redemption force hiding in the bushes nearby. All the veterans were here, Toshka, Leva, Valik, Toha and Vova. Hip had left her trading post for this occasion and was in her old sniper's nest, on top of the large tanks overlooking the bandit base. Reefer was leading some of the less experienced Redemption members, while Dimuha would take the veterans in an attack.

• Gentlemen. We all know what these "Black Slugs" have done. Diggers hanged from powerline poles in Truck Cemetery, torturing stalkers in Garbage, hunting Clear Sky rookies for sport in Cordon. We know that there is a line, a line when you pass any chance of redemption. Those animals deserve no quarter, and we shall oblige to that. Fight hard, strike true, and perhaps through this one battle, we can make the Zone a little better, Dimuha preached, and the men shook their fists and weapons.

With that, Redemption marched into battle. Dimuha led from the front as he had one of the few heavy suits left in Redemption, Toshka right behind him in his Skat-9 and Valik to the left in his IBAz. The guard at the gate was clearly drunk, wobbling from side to side. He noticed the Redemption force far too late, and Valik used the suppressed Commando carbine he had inherited from Gleb quickly, caving the bandit's head in. Sniper standing atop of the watch tower nearby did not even notice, and he soon paid the price as Leva stealthily cut into his back with a long knife. The gate guard had been taken, without raising an alarm.

Dimuha sent out the signal to Reefer, and mere ten seconds later all hell broke loose on the northern side of the facility. Machine gun fire, snipers blazing, grenades thrown inside the base walls. It was all a distraction, there were some Black Slugs there but for the most part they were occupying the main building. It served a purpose however. Livid was apparently occupying Sultan's old office. If they could draw away most of his guards with the distraction, cutting off the head of the snake would be easier. At least, such was the theory. While Leva and Valik did their thing, Dimuha and Toshka secured the door ahead.

The inside of the bandit base was dark, as always, lit up by barely functioning lights and smelling awful. There was a dead bandit laying on the floor not far from the door, judging by the state of decay in the corpse he was one of Olivius' men, too slow or dumb to have gotten out of here in time. Dimuha passed him by and prepared his Desert Eagle. He rose the stairs slowly with pistol trained on every corner, but what awaited him was a swarm of machine gun fire coming from Sultan's old office. It struck the wall mere inches away from Dimuha's face as he ducked down the second he heard gunfire. It would seem that the surprise had not been as thorough as they had hoped.

• Who the hell are you? This is Black Slugs territory, and I will personally hang you from your balls for trespassing it!, a loud and rough voice shouted from the office.

• Redemption, urod, we're here to stop this degeneracy once and for all!, Dimuha shouted as reply. More gunfire flew over his head.

• Redemption? Oh my, bunch of pussies too soft to actually be a man in the Zone! How does it feel to be a little bitch who can't even kill a man without sobbing?

• I won't cry a single tear for your death, and neither will anyone else. Now, if you would in turn stop sitting in your fortified little office like a suka and faced me like a man, we could actually get on with it!

• Poshyel k chyertu, bitch boy, I don't have time for your shit, Livid replied.

It may have seemed like Dimuha was shouting empty insults while stuck in a stalemate, but while he and Livid were conversing politely, Dimuha fumbled with his RGM-40 grenade launcher. He had picked it off a dead Monolithian in the Deserted Hospital, and now would be the time to test it out. He loaded a VOG grenade into it, and aimed. The point was not to hit Livid, although blasting him to a million pieces would be a great service to the world, but to get his head down. Judging by the heavy gunfire Toshka, Leva and the others were laying down, time was beginning to run out. He took aim towards the roof, pressed the trigger and released the projectile.

The grenade flew in a high trajectory and landed in the room just outside of Sultan's... Livid's office, producing an ear-splitting boom. Dimuha was already moving as the explosion came, firing his Desert Eagle through the doorframes. One struck true, and he could hear the Black Slug leader scream in pain and panic. Dimuha pressed on and made it into the same room with Livid, who was trying to reach his RPK. Dimuha's gigantic hand cannon rang once more, splattering the room with sprays of blood. Livid had died the same way as Borov and Sultan before him, covering in this very room, hiding from his enemies like a rat.

Dimuha lowered his pistol and put it back into its holster. His hands were shaking almost uncontrollably, and he reached for another smoke. One close call more for him. Too close. But alas, the battle was not yet over. Stepukha called for him on the radio, saying that Olivius' loyalists were pushing from the west. Dimuha was needed to help with the final push. He did not answer immediately, simply stared forward. But his eyes caught the RPK on the floor, and he grabbed it more out of intuition than concious thought. Pulling the charging handle back and swapping a new drum into the gun, he felt some sense return to his actions. He had been out of his element as a sniper in these close quarters, but now he could adapt to them. Just like he had done with the role of leadership. He would have to adapt. He would adapt, if it meant bringing back his friends.

• Boris my friend... You owe me a truckload of vodka for doing your job, Dimuha muttered and joined the fray.