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Escape from the Zone

The scavenger tread through the dead city's frost filled surface, the winter winds coming early this year. His steps measured and careful, the [tpi]scav[/tpi] scanned the ruins of the city as he crept forward. He kept the butt of his AK in his shoulder, holding the barrel forward but low, ready in a moment to be brought up and fired.  On his thigh the scav wore a pistol in a hard case holster. The scav was wearing black-grey armor, a chest rig made from reinforced alloy, that covered his upper body with several plates, leaving the gut covered only with alloy-kevlar weave. The chest piece was supported by a bracer on each arm, greaves, and additional plates strapped to the scavs thighs. He was an intimidating fully sealed helmet, an air tube fed from it to a small air reserve and filtration system that was housed elsewhere in his rig.

The irradiated surface of the [tpi]Zone[/tpi] was always a challenge, no matter how skilled in combat or well prepared you were. Many, if not most, never returned from expeditions to the Zone. Those lucky few who did, rarely tested themselves a second time. This scav was not one of them, he had found a home away from home in the Zone. It was the source of his purpose in life, the source of his income. In many ways, its bountiful (if baleful) ruins were to him like the Nile was to Egypt. It represented life itself, even if it did occasionally prove catastrophic to be around.

The ear piece fitted to the scavs helmet squeaked to life. "[tpi]Handyman, Handyman are you getting this?[/tpi]". An almost childlike voice called over the short wave. A small "S" flashing an indicator in the top right corner of the Scav's HUD. 

The Scav didn't stop his advance as the call came through, raising his hand from the foregrip he held on his rifle to a small box strapped to his chest, approximately over where his heart would be. Gently pressing in the pressel, he spoke in return "[tpi]What do you want? I'm in the zone.[/tpi]" As a rule, when in a Level 4 Zone the Scav preferred radio silence. While it wasn't the most popular area in the new world, it was none the less inhabited by mutants, walkers, and Deathcults - worse yet the Zone was a treasure trove of opportunity, it was not uncommon for Consortium or CLF to attempt research and recovery expeditions. While he doubted the Walkers were listening in on the radiowaves, he knew the Deathcults and Consortium would be.

[tpi]I'm sorry, but channel 4 now, out.[/tpi] came the reply. The voice was weak but audible. The Scav sighed, dropping to knee instinctively, behind a burnt out long abandoned pickup truck, one of its doors having a series of 4 deep gashes down the side almost certainly the work of a disgruntled mutant. The scav didn't give more than a casual look into the cab making sure there wasn't anything obvious of interest or value.  The Scav's hand began to press and slide across a touchscreen that was mounted to the vambrace of his master arm. He did not look at the screen itself though, instead having the information streamed straight to his HUD allowing him to continue to observe the surrounding area. Situational awareness was a must in the Zone.

With a final tap on the touch screen, his radio beeped faintly and a message "Channel 4 active" flashed before fading from the HUD. As it did a broken message came through [tpi]"ower, do you read me?"[/tpi]. The scav tapped once more on the screen as he rose to full height and continued his slow, careful advanced.

[tpi]Handiman... This is Watchtower... Do you read me?[/tpi] Came the voice again. 

[tpi]Watchtower, Handiman. What is so important i'm wasting my power cell on this?[/tpi] Encrypted messages were ideal when you were worried about being listened in on, but with only rudimentary antenna systems, it meant that considerably more power was required, more power meant faster drain, which meant higher costs, and less in reserve for emergency. 


[tpi]Oh I'm sorry! Next time my scanners see a veritable horde moving towards you, I guess I'll keep it to myself, i'd hate to waste your batteries. My mistake![/tpi] The Scav could practically see the pouting face through the radio, HUD or no. 

[tpi]Which way? How long?[/tpi] The Scav's voice was mono tonal, a deliberate effort being made to remain calm and focused.

[tpi]Moving towards you from the North, but a scattering from the North West as well.  Probably not more than 5 minutes.[/tpi] This time no attitude, all business. The scanners weren't able to determine the type of life, only vague quantity and approximate location. 

The Scav cursed, he was heading North West. That was where his planned exfiltration point was. He was working on a deadline. He could always drop the job, turn around and take any one of a dozen paths home. But that wasn't good for business, besides he wanted the cash. 

"[tpi]Thanks, Out.[/tpi]" The Scav began to jog towards a building, what appeared to be an office building, he didn't have a plan yet but he didn't have time to waste. He needed to get off the road, despite what some might think the roads were one of the least safe ways to travel, a thousand windows looking down on you, any or all of which could have a sniper waiting for their moment. They were however one of the fastest ways. The Scav looked at the top left of his HUD, a timer ticked down as the digital clock ticked up. 

As he jogged through the foyer, he noted a long forgotten camp, little more than a tattered sleeping bag and clothed skeleton slumped back against the wall. He ran a magnet scan over the campsite hoping for it to 'ping' a weapon. No dice. He kept moving towards the back of the building. 

The Scav changed his radio back to shortwave before sending out a message.

[tpi]"Bigman this is Red hat, over"[/tpi] finally, he found the back door. He opened it slightly, looking around for any walkers. None spotted, he continued along the back paths. Building to building the scav moved. He knew this area fairly well, and while the buildings all looked like they could collapse under the weight of a fat child, as long as you knew where to step and avoided anything above the third floor you were remarkable safe, the framework and loadbearing aspects having survived the worst of the apocalypse. 

There was more than a moment of silence, the Scav was even considering trying to raise his contact a second time when the radio came to life. [tpi]"What you want?"[/tpi] the voice was heavy with an accent that the Scav couldn't pinpoint.
 
"[tpi]Change of plan, we need to move RV to alternate[/tpi]" As the Scav moved towards the corner of a building, his HUD sensor beeped ominously. <<Lifeform Detected>> 
"[tpi]Aaaargh, why? Do you know what I must do? I waste fuel to get there. You no come here? Here good, here safe.[/tpi]"
The scav scrunched his face. An unknown life form to his front, a horde of who knows what to his rear and a fat lazy fucker in his ear.  

"[tpi]RV is now alternate, delayed 60, details to follow, Redhat out.[/tpi]" He spat over the radio. While the Scav wasn't in the killing business, there were some days he thought it might be worth branching out.

The Scav raised his AK, as he moved around the corner. His scanner could detect certain things it was set to, heat, certain metals, movement, sound, that sort of thing. Unfortunately it had a terrible refresh rate, and was less than pin point accurate at any outside 5 meters. Naturally the fidelity varied wildly depending on what it was set to, but sound was not one of the accurate ones. 

He was getting close to the crashed monorail, he had seen it a few times and it looked sturdy. The Scav was willing to bet that if he could get in to the overhang cab, he could make his way up to the railway and across to the Minomoto Building. The Minomoto Building's basement had a underground services access point which linked to the Metro. From there he could take the Clifton Hills line and make his way back to the surface. That would put him only a few hundred meters from the RV point. Not bad for a plan made up on the fly, the Scav thought.

Pasted: Sep 24, 2022, 9:46:37 pm
Views: 11