| 05:14:51 28 November 2008
On forum: 11/13/2007
Message edited by:
Life and death in a compact barrel!|
May 13, 2012
Private Vladimir Kronzov was having a shitty day. His squad had been deployed to the research institute in Aprogram, and only two squads had ever made it out of there alive. Both had been Spetsnaz. He was one of the only left now, along with his squad leader who he only knew was alive because he occasionally heard the muffled thump of a Makarov. The inside of his helmet was wet from when he had dropped it in the lake looking for that renegade asshole, and now he was on his fourth to last magazine for his AK-74M. The only highlight of the day was two STALKERs dead by his hands. One had slid down the stairs, a trail of blood following behind him. Now two STALKERs were held up in the building across from him, and one ocassionaly fired off a few shots from his AKM at Vlad. He had been waiting here for ever. (Or so it seemed. It had only been forty minutes.) Finally, one of them got restless and stood up slightly. Vladmir saw this, and quickly bought up his AK. One four-shot burst later, and the STALKER was on the ground. All four shots had been centered in his chest. This was followed by a flurry of automatic fire. Damn, it hadn't been the one with the AKM then. At that moment, a loud bang echoed to his right. By the time his brain registered (or didn't) he was already dead.
- - - - - - - -
Strelok lowered his OC-14. He hated when the army raided the place. He had been ferrying some ammo to his friend Artyom Chill. Oh well, it was most likely no body was...dead...
"Oh fuck," he whispered. He caught sight of two STALKERs dead in obvious view. One had slid down the stairs, it appeared, his Mossberg in a pool of blood. Well, that wasn't Chill, he used an assualt rifle. The other dead STALKER appeared to be lacking part of his head. He saw the outline of a weapon, but couldn't make it out. He carefully descended the ladder, stepping into what he liked to call the courtyard of death. At any one time there could be well over 50 corpses, man and mutant, in this courtyard. At the time, there was only four dead dogs, three dead soldiers, and the dead STALKERs. He approached the body, holding his breath. He let out a sigh of relief. The gun was a Bizon. Artyom used a-
Strelok grunted as the three 9x18mm rounds slammed into his back. The PZD Universal Protection Suit stopped them all, but that's not to say it didn't get his attention. He swung around and fired a five shot burst. Sloppy. Ecspecially considering he missed by a mile. The soldier quickly ducked behind a building. NCO, obviously. Otherwise he wouldn't have a pistol. He slowly advanced, Groza raised, knowing there was very little the soldier could d-
"Shit!" Strelok hissed as he hit the deck. That had been a propper gun shot. The fucker had got his hands on an assualt rifle. How, he had no clue, but that didn't really matter. The bullet had barley missed him. He had to be careful now. It wouldn't do to get killed. He slowly raised to a crouching position, and started moving forward again, gun trained on where the shot had come from. He moved closer and closer, closing to one meter, when four more cracks echoed out. But they sounded...different. Heavier. This was fired by two shots of a lighter sound, but still loud. AK-74M versus AKM? Artyom! Strelok sprinted around the corner, to find the soldier aiming up into a window. Strelok's Groza came up quickly and decimated the soldier's head. He then quickly rushed up the stairs, and looked around, afriad of what he might see.
The first thing to great his eyes was a dead STALKER with a Mosin at his side. A pool of blood was forming around him. And, in the window the soldier had fired into was-
Artyom. He wasn't dead, or even hit, just lying on his belly, eyes and gun trained on this new person. "Strelok?"
"Oh thank god."
He stood up slowly, brushing dust off his pant. The two men shook hands and then embraced breifly. "Hey, I got your ammo," Strelok said, handing up a rucksack full of 7.62x39 AP ammo. "Thanks. Hey, I also got something for you," he said, taking out what appeared to be several Groza mags. Strelok looked at him quzically. "Dunno, some bandit had it. Man, that guy was loaded. Exosuit and all."
"Damn, where are these guys getting this equipment from? I'm seeing more and more of them in faction gard," replied Strelok, accepting the gift. He then looked out at the sky. "Getting dark," he grunted. "Yeah, why don't you bunk here tonight? Some more STALKERs will come, as they always do, diggers and thrill seekers..."
"Yep. This place is worse then Pripyat."
"You been up there?"
"Oh, far beyond."
"There and Back Again, an idiot's tale by Marco Immsovich."*
"Is that a reference to what I think it is?"
"Hah. Anyway, I'll take first watch of the night?"
"No, you just almost got killed. I'll go first. I'll wake you in four hours."
*Cookie to anyone who gets the reference. Also, Marco Immsovich is the real name I gave Strelok.
Also, if you're curios, the NCO took the assualt rifle off of a dead Private near him. And I'm not saying that the NCO only had a pistol, just that he had used up all his AK-74M mags.
Total body count: 16
STALKERs: 10 (only three told of)
Military: 6 (Only five told of)