Chapter CXXXVI: Shadows Over Chornobyl

 The town of Chornobyl. Long abandoned, the first Chornobyl disaster having driven out a majority of its inhabitants and those who remained were wiped out by the second one. Or so the authorities thought, but most of them had been eliminated or employed by the Group as they constructed a laboratory near it. Lab X-7, a name long lost in the haze of history, had originally been used to experiment with tectonic weaponization. After the success of the Kaymanov emitters, a small pet project of Professor Boghdanov had been started there, eventually being mostly forgotten after the Second Disaster even by C-Conciousness members. After the area was cordoned off by anomalies, hardly anyone visited it save for a singular faction. Until the giant emission of 2019.

Overlooking the factory complex in the middle of the town, Dimuha took a deep breath. Vityukha had described the horrors that lay here, but to what extent they remained here still was unknown. Right now the place looked positively idyllic, with the church located in a valley shining in the sunlight, the factory's many towers and smokestacks reaching for the clouds. Still, as far as one looked, anomalies dotted the landscape like it was a gigantic minefield just waiting to be triggered. The pair of Redemption leaders strolled down the hill on an overgrown road, sheltering themselves from the scorching sunlight under the lindens. Not far from them was the guardpost of the factory, where a Freedomer was aiming at them through his scope. Dimuha waved at him in a friendly manner, and the man lowered his LR-300.

• Redemption, eh? What are you fellas doing this far north?, the Freedom fighter asked in a relaxed tone of his faction.

• We were sent to deliver you a message. This area is a trap, the laboratory on those hills is somehow affecting the minds of stalkers much more insidiously than the Scorcher or Miracle Machine, Dimuha said, going straight to the point.

• And how did you learn that fact? This area has been blocked off for years, the Freedomer asked suspiciously.

• Interception, the Speznaz troops from 2011, met their end here. We met their last survivor, Duty Captain Orlov. His entire faction was wiped out here, the last few survivors driven to madness or the bottle for years, Vityukha explained.

• Well obviously, the man joined Duty. But I don't trust a fascist as a credible source, they might be stalling us on our mission to free the north!

• You think two of the high-ranking Redemption members would have dragged their asses all the way here to help Duty keep you guys off a town full of anomalies and mutants? For fucks sake dude, just take us to Max, Dimuha snarled.

• Chillax bro, it's just standard procedure to ask questions and all that, the Freedomer defended himself.

• You're anarchists, you don't follow procedures, Vityukha pointed out.

• Fair point. Max is in the bar, follow Marley and you'll find him, the Freedomer chuckled and pointed at the facility.

The pair continued their walk up the hill, passing rusty hulks of old ZAZ cars and ZIL trucks. The entrance to the plant had an overgrown statue of Lenin surrounded by Burners, and the Freedom snipers had used the Soviet revolutionary's head as target practice as it was dented in multiple places from large-calibre rounds. Dimuha snorted as he saw the statue, elbowing Vityukha and pointing for his friend to see it too.

• It's been, what, 100 years, and the anarchists still hold a grudge for the commie bastard, ha!, Dimuha laughed.

• Hope they don't mistake us for uncle Vladimir, Vityukha whispered as they entered through the gate.

Thankfully the Freedomers did not consider Redemption to be supporters of old political movements, and as such, they made it inside the facility. It was a massive plant with all sorts of buildings, ranging from huge towering mine facilities to smaller offices and garages. The Freedom force was present, but not massive. They guarded the central tower and some of the garages. Bands of hunters, stalkers and diggers had already made their way here, but those were much lower in numbers than even in Skadovsk. This truly was a frontier of sorts. Snork and bloodsucker heads were mounted on the base's entrance, clearly a warning.

Freedomers simply nodded or waved at the two Redeemed as they slowly made their way across the base. Boar carcasses were being grilled over fires, marijuana was smoked by some Freedomers Bloodsucker corpses were dissected in one large machine hall by a Freedom researcher. It truly was a bustling fortress of sorts. And at its spiritual centre was the bar, an unassuming old depot building. Reggae rang from the ancient PA system, and the sound of alcohol tobacco, weed and grilled, greasy meat sailed through the air. Inside, a boulder-like man was manning the counter. He looked nothing like the average Freedomer, instead wearing a very casual civilian outfit and leather vest. Dimuha stepped by the counter and greeted the man.

• New customers, eh? I'm Stepanych, the local bartender, trader and information broker. Now if you want some spice in your life, Ganja over there by the door does that, I'm an old fashioned beer and vodka guy. Also, meals, guns, medicine, all a stalker may need, I've got it, Stepanych introduced himself.

• A cold beer for me. Unfortunately for Ganja, Redemption has strict no drugs policy. Say, Stepanych, where would I find Max? We've got bad news, and I know he wants to hear them, Dimuha said, and a pint appeared in from of him almost as quickly as he finished the sentence.

• You probably passed that building with the Watchman and Defender Freedom troopers guarding it, he's on the second level. He's in a grumpy mood though, and I don't blame him. If you've got bad news, I hope that exoskeleton of yours stops his rounds, Stepanych smirked.

• Why? What's going on in these parts?, Vityukha prodded while Dimuha was chugging down his pint.

• Oh, people are quite weird here. A hunter named Gloomy has been behaving strangely, even more than his name lets in. We also lost sight of our local trapper, Falcon, when he was out with Semyon, and we've had at least three Freedomers and two stalkers lose their legs or lives in the minefield and anomalies. And we've barely wandered off this little haven, people see weird things in the fog that appears at night. If you want to learn more of this, Skiff upstairs can tell you more. And if you need medicine, Nietzsche before the stairs is working as our medic.

Vityukha and Dimuha thanked the trader for the information and paid their beers, then stepped out of the bar. Dimuha decided to visit Max first, while Vityukha would head to the second floor to meet Skiff. As Dimuha proceeded to the Freedom temporary headquarters, he began to sense something. Unsure on what exactly it was, he could only feel some sort of creeping dread at the back of his mind. Like a shadow just outside his field of vision, a thought buried but lurking at the edges of his mind. It was so fleeting and hard to reach for, and thus Dimuha shrugged it off for now. But the dread remained.

The Freedom guards almost did not let Dimuha in, but the strongheaded Redemption leader eventually broke through their protests and stomped upstairs. On the second floor he found Max cleaning his SVU, going through the various internal mechanisms with a honed precision. The anarchist commander raised his gaze from the rifle after he heard the thumps and whirring of Dimuha's suit. Max raised his eyebrow expectantly, and Dimuha commented nonchalantly:

• Morning, Max. Hate to be a bird of ill omen, but your folks are in dire straits here, dire indeed.

• Tell me something I don't know, brat. But do tell me, make my day even worse, Max scoffed.

Dimuha explained in great detail everything he knew, even every insignificant thing that Boris and Vityukha had told him. After five minutes of recounting the fate of Interception, he finished and scowled at Max's relaxed gaze. Max chuckled dryly before explaining himself.

• You really think I'll take some fascist's word for it? I know Orlov is not as bad as some of them, but a Dutyer is a Dutyer. Besides, we haven't had any effects from some sort of psi-emitter happen yet, and the readings performed by Raven have not shown anything out of the ordinary, Max answered.

• I'm still not convinced. We need some eggheads to come in and take proper measurements, the risks are too big. There's dozens of lives at stake here, Max, do you really wish that burden upon yourself even if you survive?, Dimuha pressed on.

• Listen here chuvak, this is Freedom territory. We don't care for authority, but we don't also take kindly to arrogant trespassers, you can ask Skull about that. So either stop your doomsday prophecies or get thrown out, your choice, Max offered in authoritative tone.

• Chyort, no wonder you're named Max, you're a maximum stupidity made manifest. Fine then, I'll just have to save your stupid asses, Dimuha groaned and stormed out, exiting the building and pushing the Freedom guards aside for the second time of the day.

• I take it that the negotiations weren't a success?, Vityukha questioned, grinning at his friend's exasperation.

• Max is being a little suka and we'll have to do this alone again. Man, I know I'd probably be laying in a ditch with a hole in my skull if it wasn't for Redemption, but at times I truly wish I could just leave these ungrateful urods to their fate, Dimuha ranted.

• I just talked to Skiff, he seems to be the local leader or senior stalker, we're not alone. He shares our worry, and wants us to investigate. He told us to look into the disappearance of Falcon and the case of Gloomy first, those might help find out what is going on here, Vityukha said placatively, allowing his friend to calm down slightly.

• Eh, could be worth a shot. Where do we start?

• Let's find this Gloomy person first. Apparently he hangs around the garages often.

Vityukha had managed to draw his stubborn and hot-headed friend out of his anger for now. The two stalkers proceeded towards the nearby garages where they hoped to find some clues as to what was happening in this lonely town. As they moved outwards from the Freedom headquarters, a lone Freedom stalker watched them closely. As a reflex of sorts, he kept rubbing the back of his hand, where a faint burnt scar of a backwards letter N was visible. He would have to keep a close eye on the new arrivals. With a sigh, he took out his binoculars and centred on the pair, stalking them, waiting for his moment. The red sun rose over Chornobyl, and its rays dispelled some of the shadows hanging over it. But beneath this mirage of serenity, more shadows gathered.