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Taffer's monologues

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  06:14:51  9 December 2008
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{imperialreign}
Звуковой Шаман
(Resident)

 

 
On forum: 10/29/2008
Messages: 3075
Taffer's monologues

Damn.
Third time this week I've had to bail them eggheads from a brood. I've told them before the zone is no place for carelessness. Next time, it could be a sucker, and I might not have time to react 'fore one of them bastards becomes a last meal.
Not much more I can do, though. Them brains are a paycheck, as long as I keep their asses straight, I get to keep a steady income. It's a headache, like babysitting toddlers . . . but I can't bitch, I've got it better than most other stalkers. The eggheads offer me some pay, provide me with a safe shelter at night, pay for and repair my equipment . . . all I've got to do is keep them bastards safe.
But, damn if it ain't tough, though, although someone's got to do it, and how many other stalkers you see jumping for the opportunity? Them Freedomers'd have my balls running the minefield if they knew I was out here and what I was doin. They're not all that up-and-up on helping the eggeheads. You ask me, though, and I'd tell ya them boys have spent too much time near the scorcher. The loonieness of them monolith screwballs must be wearin off on them . . . sure, the world needs to know about the zone, learn from it - but we can't just be passing out field trip permission slips to anyone interested. If we help these eggeheads in their research, they might just be able to help us understand the zone enough to start letting the outside world in . . . understand these damn anomalies, what causes them . . . perhaps even be able to predict when and where blowouts will occur. Then we can start getting the bigger brains in here from around the world . . . don't get me wrong, though, our boys are smart - but they're not the brightest. Hell, them bein out in the zone researchin says a lot in itself.
But you don't see Freedom out here, as much as they're intentions are right . . . then again, you don't see much of Duty, either. They're too busy hunting mutants and Freedomers to do anything worthwhile.
So, that's why I'm out here - help these eggeheads to accomplish something. As soon as this research excursion wraps up, I'll be headed back to the Freedom base to down some vodka and drown out my spare time - till I get a call from the eggeheads again, then back to being their escort.
But, damn, their yammering get's on my nerves sometimes - and we've still got another eight kilometers till we're back at the lab . . . hell, at least once we're back I can drown them out if I can get that blasted radio to actually work for a change, all that damn egghead equipment in the lab tends to block out any signal most of th-

<pa-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-tah><pa-ta-tah><pa-ta-ta-ta-tah>

"Shit! Shit! You brains get down! Get down! Hole up there by that APC!"

<pa-ta-ta-ta-tah>

Gotta get down, too! Dammit! Pinned behind a friggin hunker while we're being shot at! Where'd I put my damn binocs?! Dammit. Dammit! Here, got 'em - try to take a look see . . .

<pa-ta-tah>

Shit! Almost took some lead to the shoulder that time. Friggin mercs . . . bastards. Four of 'em.
Damn eggheads are dazed, holding those rifles like children with pop-guns. They won't be of much help-

<pa-ta-ta-ta-tah> "Pakazhi sebya, stalkyer!" <pa-ta-tah>

Right, like I'm gonna just run out and let you bastards gun me down . . . shit, only got twenty-eight rounds left. Ain't enough, ain't enough. Them mercs are a good 20 meters out, hanging around a busted-ass Vaz . . .

"Shto baishsya, ihm?!" <pa-ta-ta-ta-tah>

Keep up with the mocks, bastards . . . need a plan, need a plan . . . a diversion . . . something . . .

<pa-ta-ta-tah>

There! "Mikhailovich, give me that damn fuel can there off this rig."
"Here, take it."
Alright, man, you've got one shot at this . . . loosen the cap . . . gotta throw this can and knock some round into it in midair . . . hopefully she'll light . . .

Ready? Let's get it! . . . "Suck on this you gutter dogs!" . . . . . .

<pa-ta-ta-ta-ting-ta-ting-ting-ting-pfwooooom>

Yeah! Yeah! Look at 'em scatter! Friggin rodents, bastards!

<pa-ta-tah>

There's one down . . .

<pa-tah>. . .<pa-ta-ta-ta-tah>

. . two and three . . . and there's number four -

<pa-tah>

Bastards. "Y'all brains alright?" Nods all around. Good. Time to go check those corpses out for some goodies, and hopefully we can still make it back to the lab before night fall.

Last thing I need is to be stuck out here with some eggheads after dark . . .
  01:51:02  7 May 2011
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{imperialreign}
Звуковой Шаман
(Resident)

 

 
On forum: 10/29/2008
Messages: 3075
Excerpt from Taffer's personal PDA - date unknown

It's been eight nights here, alone - watching . . .

. . . watching and waiting. Counting minutes, hours . . . days. Three emissions; I barely survived the last one, it was a little stronger than normal. Too powerful for this make-shift shelter in a top-floor corner room of the old hotel.

I've been gathering intelligence on merc movements - they've taken a liking to this decrepit corner of Pripyat, and not just one team, either . . . it seems a few different merc teams are working together here. Something big, but not yet sure what . . .

The silence is driving me insane. The whispering, the constant voices creeping over the silence lke a soft-spoken breeze brushing your ear. Occasionally the sound of gunfire in the distance - but do any of us really take note of it anymore? I think I'm losing my mind, here . . . but I'm no longer sure. I swear I watch as small items here in this room shift . . . move . . . and I swear I don't remember that chair there - wasn't it closer to the wall?

I don't know, no longer sure . . .

But the mercs, they know. Something big is going on. Just yesterday . . . or was it this morning? . . . A small squad was moving weapon crates to a cargo truck. i wonder if it still runs . . . it must run, though, if they're loading it.

Unless . . . no . . .

I swear this hotel is haunted. Or maybe it's all in my head. The other day there was only five of me in the mirror, now there's seven . . . the cracks are spreading. It could be the heat, but not sure if it's hot enough for that. Barely even breaking a sweat here. No, if I remember correctly, it was when my rifle I had standing against that table fell over, and the barrell cracked the glass. Come to think of it, though, I think I've left it here in this corner the whole time I've been here . . .

. . . The silence is maddening. No comms, either - I'm on radio silence. The boys back at camp can't reach me, nor I them. I'm not willing to leave here until I see some evidence of hostile plans by the mercs, but they're always hostile. Or was I looking for evidence they hit that Freedom encampment on the outskirts of the forest? Don't recall. I'm sure I'll remember when I see it. Whatever it is I'm supposed to remember. Don't recall. Something big is going on. Just yesterday . . . or was it this morning? . . . A small squad was moving weapon crates to a cargo truck. I chuckled as I watched the driver wheel that lumbering mass up to the loading dock of the warehouse they're set up at. The oddity of it. A truck that probably hasn't run in a dozen years brought back to life - like the rest of the zone . . . slowly waking up . . .

The whispering, still. Constant voices . . . I think I heard a child laugh the other night, right before that last emission broke on the horizon. I watched as the mercs scrambled to get back indoors, then I saw the size of the first wave clearing through the trees . . . from this perch it was massive. I had time to prepare . . . dinner was good that night. I had soaked a sausage in some vodka for most of the day . . .

. . . six nights here. The time is creeping by. I should probably start marking my days on the wall. Three emissions; I barely survived the last one, it was a little stronger than normal.

Two weeks. I had agreed to watch for two weeks. Watch as small items in this room shift. I don't know why . . . no longer sure. I think the mercs know what they're up to, though. They point at this hotel - they laugh. Knee slapping laughter. They laugh so hard they double over or proceed to fall on the ground like children. It's not so bad, though. I laughed, too. Why, just this morning, I saw three of myself in the mirror . . . that's two more than yesterday. I'm sure those mercs found it just as funny as I did . . .

I wonder what the boy's are doing back at base . . . I'm sure the crew is up to their typical antics. We just got a few more recruits to the Freedom ranks, most newbies are given some really fucked up jobs, just to screw with them. Ha! Why, just the other week, we had this newbie agree to go setup camp at the hotel in Pripyat for a couple of weeks, right next to an old Monolith transmitter that we kept in working order, so he could monitor a camp of mercs in the area . . . what a fool! Ha!

I swear this hotel is haunted. The silence is driving me insane. The whispering. The constant voices creeping over the silence. Occasionally the sound of gunfire in the distance. The whispering, still . . . it gives me chills, a cold sweat. Can't get comfortable half the time, my legs tend to tingle. Maybe it's from sitting still for so long . . . the tunnel vision sets in, too, and things go dark. I turn on the nightivison because I'd rather listen to it's humming than the laughter of those mercs. Such an annoying sound . . . like whispering and children giggling.

It's only four in the afternoon. The shadows are slowly creeping towards me again. I hate how the darkness here reaches out for you . . .

. . . why is that mirror so broken? Such a shame. I can't believe the tragedy that befell this place. So many people. Why just pick up and leave like that, leaving so much behind? They swore the ferris wheel would be running in only a few more days . . . my mind was racing. I couldn't think. Heart pounding, that cold sweat . . .

. . . tired . . .

But I slept through the night. Didn't I? I don't clearly recall.

I swear those mercs just loaded a truck that looked exactly like that. Odd how they managed to find two so similar . . . don't they know those trucks don't run? I'm sure they'll figure that out. Where would they even get a battery for them? Monolith has batteries . . . they make their own . . . I've seen it.

What's that thumping?

They said they'd get me when it's time. I've only been here a day. Damn! Two weeks?!

I think someone is coming . . . I swear I hear footsteps down the hall. The crackle of glass underfoot . . . no, can't be - I just saw that crack in the mirror spread. Didn't I? Hmmm . . .

. . . something's not right here . . .

. . . the whispering. The voices. I feel sick. Probably that sausage I had soaked in vodka last night. I watched it soak . . . I've been watching . . . waiting . . .

. . . I swear the shadows are trying to get me. Every day around this time, they start creeping towards me. I've seen suckers hunt like that - they like to stalk their prey . . . they're stalkers, too . . . were . . .

. . . that chair has been there the whole time. I think I like it better against the wall.

Mercs are laughing at how they have to unload a truck.

. . . I'm gathering intelligence. Am I intelligent? Glass crackling again . . .

. . . whispers . . .

. . . .

. . . .
  13:06:14  9 May 2011
profilee-mailreply Message URLTo the Top
{imperialreign}
Звуковой Шаман
(Resident)

 

 
On forum: 10/29/2008
Messages: 3075
Excerpt from Taffer's personal PDA - date unknown

I must've passed out . . . or maybe I fell asleep . . .

The darkness took me quick, and I can't remember what I was doing . . . what I was thinking. I think sometimes the darkness is like that, it grabs so quick you have no chance to react.

The whispering has been getting louder, the voices a little clearer . . . I swear now I can almost make out the words.
I need some fresh air. I've grown tired of this hole. Besides, I haven't seen any squads of mercs at all yet today. They've practically dissappeared. Best that I can make out, I don't even see any evidence they were there . . .

. . . the truck is still parked, too . . .

I wonder if anything is in that cargo bed. I might go see, but I'm not supposed to leave this room. Screw it, so the commander finds out - what's the worst Freedom has ever done to anyone who's disobeyed an order? Well, there were a few times someone had been sent to run through the minefield stark naked . . . and usually returned stark mad . . . but, the commander behind those shennanigans has been MIA for almost a year . . . the worst the boys do now is drop someone blindfolded into the middle of a sucker den late at night . . .

I can handle a few bloodsuckers . . .

ARRGGHH!! Feel like I'm grappling with my sanity today. Why the hell did I take the magazine out of my SVD and remove the rounds?

Strange . . . I really don't remember that mirror being broken. Hell, I've been here long enough I barely recognize myself anymore . . .

. . . these voices . . .

I should load that magazine back up. It's the only one I have left. I gotta get out of this building for a while, the dust is choking me. Throat is dry, can barely breathe. It's only about noon, don't need to worry about the shadows yet. I think I'll investigate that truck - strange, I haven't seen any merc squads yet today. That warehouse has been still all day. Maybe I'll find something usefull laying around, but I doubt that. Mercs are pretty good about taking their equipment with them.

I should eat first, though. Feel weak, shaky . . . I don't want to move. Afraid I don't have the strength. Odd how there's small bits of broken glass on the floor near the door . . . past the table. Nothing in here is broken, except for that mirror . . .

God this itching is driving me crazy. Tingling all over. Lack of circulation - I've gotta move, I gotta walk, do something . . . something is eating at me. Something is talking to me. Something wants me to listen.

I've been trying to listen for days now. I can't hear even myself anymore. All I want to hear is that voice. It's speaking to me. It's telling me . . .

I gotta get out of this building for a while. I feel like I'm choking myself. The mirror tells me there's hand marks around my neck, but I don't believe it. It tells me I broke this glass. I don't believe it. It shows me the ammunition I layed out on the table, spelling something out . . . time - time is of the essence. I must be quick, make haste. Hurry. Leave. Move. Something's not right here . . .

. . . a whisper in my ear . . .

I can barely hear it now, a voice . . . idi ka-mnye . . . idi ka-mnye . . . idi ka-mnye . . . so softly, repeating. Over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. Again. Again. Must move, not safe here. Let me pack my ammunition first, then I'll go. I must take a trip, must go somewhere. Why twelve rounds when this magazine only holds ten? Put them in my pocket, take my bag. Grab my OC-14, huh . . . I took the suppresor off? Nevermind, it's not hard to attach. SVD on my back. Must go. I can hear it, speaking to me . . . prishlyo vryemya . . . idi ka-mnye . . . idi ka-mnye . . . idi ka-mnye . . .

. . . glass down the hall. The crackle of it under my feet. It sounds familiar. I've heard this before. Don't remember glass here when I first arrived - don't remember when I got here. Don't remember why I'm here. Don't remember where here is. But I'm not supposed to be here. Not supposed to leave. I left somewhere . . . I left something behind? No, I've got everything. It's a long hike back to camp for whatever it was I forgot. Screw it, it took me two days to reach this hotel, I can make do with whatever it was I forgot.

Damn, this room must have been nice when this hotel was still in use. It's a shame really. I'm surprised the windows are still intact, but opened like I expected them to be. Those liquidators were thorough. I should put that chair against the wall, so that I don't trip over it. I'll stand my SVD against this table, take the magazine out and lay it on the table . . . take the stress off the internals. This ancient weapon, don't need it jamming up if I need to make use of it . . .

. . . this corner window is perfect. Excellent view of the warehouse. Those mercs will never see me up here - in the afternoon, the hotel's own shadow covers this wing. Additional cover. Keep myself out of the window, just in case their lookouts notice anything odd. I should close the door to this room, too, just in case . . . wow, those mercs seemed to have gotten one of those old cargo trucks working. Insidious bastards.

It's so quiet here. The kind of silence that's soft, like someone whispering in your ear . . . like a gentle breeze. It's kinda peaceful, really. Should make it easier to focus - to study these mercs. Looks like they've got a few squads loading that truck . . . I wonder what they're putting in there . . .

. . . it's late already. I hoped to get here sooner. Mercs are busiest in the morning, when they think anyone looking would be asleep. I'm tired. Think I'll make up some dinner, then get some rest. No fires here, someone would see . . . sausage it is, then.

I'm tired . . .

I'll settle down in this corner, go to sleep for the night. Start my observations tomorrow. Hmmm . . . that mirror looks like someone punched it . . . a circular crack just the size of a fist . . . that's rather strange. Wonder who would do such a thing?

. . . it's nice to close my eyes. I'm so tired . . .

. . . this gentle silence is peaceful, lulling me to sleep . . .

It's like a soft breeze on the ears . . .

. . . or someone whispering quietly . . .

. . . .
. . . .
 
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