The Deal and The Hit

The Chernobyl Anomalous Zone…a byproduct of what was known as “The Second Disaster” back in 2006. A place which had entire areas where the laws of reality were bent, if not outright broken. The place was lousy with mutants, thugs, mercenaries, opportunists and communities that were all broadly labeled as “Stalkers”. Pockets of radiation continue to dot this No Man’s Land, making travel hazardous even without the inclusion of the other dangers.

Along the northern end of The Zone’s borders, near a gap in the fenced off area enforced by Belarus’s military, the Client waited, with a large part of his smuggling crew. Lighting up a cigarette, he awaited the assassin for hire he contacted through a secure channel. There was also a blanket offer for any Meta within the criminal underworld to assist.

There was a minimum pay of 5000 in USD - all in advance, with the remainder contingent on the results of the trade. The Client pulled every string he could to “requisition” every bit of hardware he could from defense contractors - local and global - as well as experimental technology from a few intelligence agencies that a few rats supplied him with. A few of Arisawa Heavy Industries’ more…ambitious employees even parted with several suits of powered armor.

None of his crew spent any more than a few hours inside the Zone in each run, and none were particularly adept at battle. Hiring a Meta or two to clear out a route was an inevitable resolution to smooth out his latest run.

Elsewhere

Approaching from the southern end of the Chernobyl Anomalous Zone, cloaking device active with the only indication of his presence being dead grass being pressed down under his boots, was Agent X531488N…callsign: Thorn. Unknown to the Client, the rat within the CIA had already been sniffed out by the Initiative.

The Initiative had allowed the mole to move about freely, hoping to find out who the buyer was. The true name of the buyer was unknown, but he went by multiple aliases. The one he was most known as was “Sultan”. Fancied himself as not only a black market weapons dealer, but a criminal mastermind akin to Tony Soprano himself.

Exactly why Sultan saw the infamously violent and impulsive protagonist of The Sopranos as a source of inspiration was anyone’s guess, especially considering that he was far more low-key than Tony Soprano could ever hope to be. But Thorn’s role in the Initiative wasn’t to psychoanalyze his targets; it was to capture or eliminate them. Sultan was the target.

His objective was to eliminate both Sultan and his buyer, and either retrieve or destroy the merchandise. The Geiger Counter clicked in his ear, but he wasn’t overly worried - his HEV armor had best-in-class radiation protection. He progressed through the region called the “Red Forest” northward towards Pripyat - the outskirts of which was where intel suggested the exchange was taking place…

"Your reputation precedes you, Inkwell. This is a standard smuggling job in continental Europe. Experimental technology that we've 'requisitioned' from multiple agencies and weapons contractors is to be traded within the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. This is a standard sweep and guard contract - we want you to clear a path to the deal location and then guard us while the exchange occurs."

"Your full pay will occur after the transaction, which shouldn't go for any less than two billion in American dollars, and your cut will be contingent on the trade value. You will be paid in advance, even if the planned trade does not occur. You have no reason to reject this offer, have you?"

"If you're interested, meet us at Ukraine's northern border with Belarus."


Such offers were rarely ever as easy as made out. But with her recent absence from the criminal underworld, Inkwell was in need of another payday and the thrill returning to her work. Even as dull as a simple escort and protection job as the offer made it sound. She was an assassin, not a bodyguard, after all. But branching out your resume could never hurt. And this "AD" was legitimate so far. Paid in advance as soon as she chartered a plane ride for Poland, Eevi found a show of good faith as that enough to at least pique her interest in the job and the very least to warrant her appearance.

Riding low in the covered bed of a truck driving through the woods that skirted alongside the northern belt Kyiv Oblast, Eevi waited impatiently. It had been the better part of a day since the contacted smugglers had met her in the Volyn Oblast to drive her to a point near the meeting zone for her to hike from, and in that entire time she had only been told to disembark once in neighboring Zhytomyr to stretch her legs and use the needed facilities. Traveling through Eastern Europe was always uncomfortable for her. The distant, muffled, Russian accents of her drivers only gave her an old and buried stress that prevented her from relaxing as much as laying in a wooden truck bed would have afforded of her.

It was only a breath of relief then to hear the truck roll to a stop on a dirt road. Peering from a torn hole in the covering tarp, Eevi only saw the green of the forests of Ukraine and figured they must have arrived. Moments later the tarp was pulled back by the passenger of the vehicle, a stocky man named Vyacheslav in his late thirties whose nasal Hs in favor of hard Gs betrayed his south Russian origins, who silently nodded to his side for her to get out as he had done in Zhytomyr. Crawling out and stretching her legs after the arduous ride, Eevi exchanged a nod with the man. A silent thanks for his work. He shrugged and flashed a yellowed, toothy grin at her. "Be safe, убийца Чухонка."  And with a turn returned to the truck and began to drive away to whatever job needed them next.

Barring the usage of the derogatory 'Chukhonka' by the man, it appeared that he had meant well with his last words to her. As nice of a send off as from one criminal to another in their industry can grant. Making sure her boots were tied properly, Eevi fastened her green rain jacket about her and tucked the scarf tied around her neck into it's buttoned front. Checking the small hiking backpack she had brought from America with her she made sure the most important part of her job was with her. The Inkwell itself. Sat snug in the bottom of the bag Eevi looked over the old frame of her longest "companion" for any travel damages and found herself pleased at the lack of any such damage. Tucking it back in and pulling out the map she was given by her drivers, she wandered into the woods. Heading for the meeting location.

Maximilian had tried to do some research on The Anomolous Zone before he deigned to tred into it. Mutants, raiders and the like were things he didn’t want to tussle with if he could help it. There was only so much conflict he was willing to indulge, most of it on his own terms if he could help it. Finding things considered otherwise illegal was pretty easy when venturing into radiation blasted wastelands, if only because laws were suggestions rather than ironclad. It wasn’t a suggested course of action, but when had the suggestions of his lessers. They usually didn’t know what they were talking about anyway.

Information even in a blasted landscape flowed, just in different ways than the more civilized world. It reminded him more of the stories people spread about those ‘Third World’ countries that  were constantly beset by cartels and warlords, unchallenged.  It almost sounded absurd, but he long accepted that the world was absurd.

The sky stretched out above him, a gray foreboding stretch that could put a pit in the stomach. He was sure he saw something flying, an indistinct shape that promised danger should its eye turn downward. Maximilian sighed, looking to the man next to him in the uniform black suit with hexagonal armor and a simple, smooth plexiglass mask. One of the men dosed with the Atlas serum, simple protection in case things got a little too dangerous for him. There had been stories that large and dangerous creatures roamed the wastelands, so he didn’t want to get stuck trying to kill one by himself.

Pressing a finger into a button on the side of his mask, he heard the faint click before static. The all terrain vehicle was parked on the fast fading ruts of vehicles carved into the scarred landscape, idling there while he waited for a little confirmation. There was going to be a trade, useful technology pawned around by a man by the name of The Sultan. He had some difficulty getting any meetings with the man, and in all honesty he didn’t care much to throw around money he was sure had little meaning in this hellscape.  

Once he got all he needed, he cut off the little leach on the waves and looked over the horizon.  ”The trade should be happening in a span of half an hour, though that could vary,” He spoke up, mostly to his escort who didn’t offer much in regard to a response. He liked it better when they didn’t talk back.

So the two of them moved through the woods towards the meeting point, though he wanted to watch a little before acting.

As one neared the perimeter of the Anomalous Zone, one could make out announcements by the military outpost that guards the most direct route inward - the gist of it being that the military has the right to shoot unauthorized personnel on sight. The northern end of the Zone had a lighter military presence than the southern end, but anomalous activity was also thicker. The Client and his men found a gap in the perimeter that he had to move some money around to create.

His men were normal human beings, armed with several Warsaw Pact armaments. Nothing high grade, but ammunition in the region was widespread.

“Boss,” his radio squawked. “We have eyes on a lass. Looks like the one in the picture. Tasty.”

“Keep it in your pants,” he radioed back. “Send her over.”

The client was a man somewhere in his Forties, clad in a brown leather trench-coat. He was a tad bit portly with a shaved head, his sole facial hair being a chevron mustache. He eyed the blonde, his gray eyes unreadable.

“I take it you’re Inkwell,” he concluded. “You first came across me as ‘AD’. I have many aliases. Around the Zone, people know me as ‘Sultan’.”

He gestured over to a map of the Zone nearby and led Inkwell over. Their entry point was a considerable distance east-northeast of Pripyat, with a few old tankers in the area. It was primarily swampland.

“This,” he pointed to an area a small distance east of Pripyat, in its outskirts. “This is where the meetup will take place. These maps are old, and a few psychic emissions have passed, so the Anomaly fields you come across may be different. My sources tell me that there is a route that could be used to bypass the main city and reach the outskirts somewhere near the Yaniv railway station. My message stated that your full payment is in proportion to the trade value.”

“But, I expect you’re eager for your advance,” he said, moving over a small strongbox, unlocked, filled with 5000 USD. “Something else you may wish to know: Artifacts go for astronomical prices on the black market outside of the Zone, but most of them emit radiation, so I have a few of these…”

A rather large and heavy container that was lined with lead lay on the ground nearby, along with a small handheld device. It was an older, proximity-based artifact detector.

“If you feel up to it, you can take a container and detector and grab an Artifact for yourself,” Sultan said. “As long as you secure the route, whatever Artifact you find, you can keep.”

"You would be correct. Most people in our circles of interest would know me by the name Inkwell."  Giving the man who had introduced himself as her new employer a quick nod, she followed him towards a large table holding a map of the area. While Sultan explained the routes, Inkwell made mental note of the terrain and intersections with this new route his men had found for her. With the mention of her pay a small smile took the corner of her mouth and she would nod approvingly as she approached and flipped through the payment provided for her.

"It is always a pleasure to meet work for those who understand professional courtesy like this." And with the mention of further pay she would perk up more. "I'm certain it's quite apparent to you that I am somewhat petite and will need my mobility for the job at hand. How does a deal of fifty-fifty sound to you instead? I mark them when I find them and keep track on a map as best I can and you have your hands get them while I push ahead for the main task. Earn back some of your losses on setting up this job and all that hmm?." While the offer was tantalizing to her, completing this job would be a number one priority for her. Had to bring her reputation back after a long absence after all.

There was another matter as well for her. "I have read up on the area as best I can and with what resources your contact provided and that were available. I still need to know something from you however. What am I expecting out there? It feels now like the world knows more about the Meta Gene than the effects of radiation and what exactly is going on in the Exclusion Zone here. Seeing as how I am operating here on your payroll I don't imagine it would hurt to see if you could enlighten me as best you can."

Sultan frowned a bit as Inkwell made an offer of a fifty-fifty split. One of the men behind Inkwell raised the muzzle of his carbine, but Sultan shook his head, forbidding him from shooting.

“You drive a hard bargain, but that’s not an option,” Sultan said. “I have no idea on when the next psi emission will hit within the Anomalous Zone - they hit every 24 to 48 hours. By the time I can get more experienced boys to locate those artifacts, some other Stalker may end up taking them - or an emission may change the location of the Anomaly fields. This top-of-the line gear changed hands quite a bit - and they’ll all want a piece of the cut. The best I can offer under these circumstances would be a seventy-thirty split…in my favor.”

With regards to the area, Sultan said, “Resistance going in should be light. This far out, you may encounter mutated dogs and boars - tough, but they can’t shoot back. In this region, firefights between Free Stalkers and bandits are a common occurrence - Free Stalkers shouldn’t really take shots at you, but the bandits are a different story. However, there is a small neutral post in an old tanker where both are under ceasefire. There are whispers of fearsome mutants within the gas station on the east end of this area - plus, I’ve heard a few scouts complaining about hearing voices come from within a cave northeast of…this farmstead. The big danger as far as being shot at goes will be further south - at the Waste Processing Station. A small squad of mercenaries have holed themselves up in there - get too close and they’ll take a shot at you. Your biggest concern will be local military patrols.”

Sultan pointed to a spot on the map just southwest of the Yaniv railway station.

“This is a mobile laboratory belonging to the Ecologists - state-funded eggheads, basically,” Sultan said. “As long as you keep your nose clean around them, they’ll let you stay around and even buy any artifacts you may happen to have - they may also pay a decent bounty for mutant parts. Last I heard, the area around Yaniv had zombified Stalkers…and a Chimera mutant. Zombified Stalkers can’t aim worth a damn, but you’d best stay clear of the Chimera - it looks like a hairless cat/dog hybrid with two heads, and roughly the size of a lion, and they can clear dozens of meters with a single leap. They tend to be nocturnal, though - move during the day, and you’ll be less likely to run into it.”

He then pointed to a large complex southeast from the Yaniv rail station.

“This is the old Jupiter factory - in the Soviet days, it secretly produced semiconductors for the military. There have been claims that there’s an underground passage that should surface at the eastern outskirts of Pripyat,” Sultan said, before pointing further westward. “If you can’t get the lift to work, you’ll need to bypass this minefield to go through the Red Forest, which is heavily irradiated - by that point, you’ll need the locals’ help.”

He finished with, “One more thing: you may start hearing air-raid sirens while in the Zone - that would be a region-wide warning of an Emission starting. You’ll want to enter someplace with solid cover. A concrete building with walls and ceiling intact, a cave - I don’t care which. If you’re out in the open when the Emission hits, you can expect to become one of those zombified Stalkers…”