Chapter I: The Frontier

 Diary of Lance Corporal Dimka Todorov, day 0

I joined UNISG for a simple reason. Adventure. I had dreamed of being a frontiersman my entire life, reading comics about cowboys and explorers since I was a kid. Ever since I joined the Bulgarian army, I saw that dream fade away further and further. Endless days of boring drills, maintenance, training, shooting, none of it felt satisfying yet I couldn't go back to the depression-filled everyday life in Sofia. I tried to get noticed, and eventually, I did. I got myself into the peacekeepers, and during the Transnistria crisis, I saved a German officer during convoy ambush, we almost got crushed by the insurgent's T-64 but I dragged him out of there for miles before help arrived.

Fast forward a few months, and I get invited into a secret training operation in France. Around the time of the whole Transnistria kerfuffle, some sort of cataclysm happened in Ukraine. For a second, research facilities all over the world picked up unknown energy flare from Chernobyl. The source of the energy was pinpointed back by UN specialist researchers, when they noticed that parts of the Chernobyl area were obscured to satellite imagery. How this passed unnoticed is not known, but some research data from scientific mission sent to Ukraine in early 2010s was recovered from archives.

There is something odd going on in Chernobyl. And I was sent with units of a new taskforce, UNISG, to learn more. Ukrainian state officials have claimed nothing to be going on in Chernobyl outside of a localized insurgency. Sounds like bullshit to me. Well, whatever the reason for this mission, I'll happily take it. Chernobyl has been abandoned for years, who knows what we'll find there. Other men in my squad are less enthusiastic, so I've kept my enthusiasm in check too.

Day 1:

We slipped through the border fence into the ambiguosly named Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. State patrols seemed rather numerous, ran into at least four of them. Most of them seemed to be little more than conscripts, so our leader, Major Hernandez, considers this area to be rather safe. We sneaked past most of the Ukrainian soldiers, but some had to be disposed of. The mission must come before anything, and all opposition must be silenced, one way or another. According to the major, this area is known locally as Darkscape. Little more than a border forest, the plan was to only set up a small base of operations here and move on.

Hernandez led us to a cabin in the woods, little more than a dilapidated sawmill. Inside, a bunch of people sat around a campfire. It was odd, they were draped in leather jackets and surplus Soviet gear like some sort of airsoft club. Hernandez ordered us to fire, and so we did. The men did not stand a chance. They had an arsenal of old Soviet rifles and pistols on them, not much use in a fight. Even less so when you're cut down in seconds. Once the dust settled, Hernandez gave us a briefing. The ISG data had spoken of anomalies and mutants. Apparently the Zone was some sort of quirk of nature, having twisted wildlife and space itself completely. Hernandez led us outside and threw a bolt, a rusty old bolt, ahead. And midair, the air distorted, sucked the bolt inside and imploded.

It was unlike anything I had seen before. And the other battlehardened veterans seemed just as taken aback. Major explained that these anomalies came in many varieties, almost all of them deadly. Bolts, empty bullet casings or some devices could pick them up, but none of those helped if you didn't keep an eye out for them. The mutants, according to major, consisted mostly of boars, dogs and mutated pigs, with some larger and more dangerous species residing up north. Hernandez explained plenty of other things as well, from stalkers to other factions and the geography of the area. Finally, he gave me my assignment. I was to establish contact with local mercenaries and collect vital intel before reporting back. The mercenaries resided in a place called Dead City, which according to my PDA map was almost on the other side of the Zone. I was to be their pathfinder, the explorer and scout. This was completely fine for me, I do not mind working alone.

The mission given, I headed out. To gather my bearings, I circled around the forest, exploring it to my heart's content. I found a small encampment, barely more than a shack and some boxes. It had some ammunition and everyday items left behind by someone, and the embers on the campfire were still warm. It was better to stay on my toes, nobody liked foreign agents snooping around. After a small walk I ran into my first mutant. It was, or more accurately, had been, a pig. It squaled in panic and rushed away. I raised my rifle, but decided against shooting. There was clearly other humans around here, and shooting would make me an immediate target. I wandered for a while more, and found an assortment of bones and body parts near some large rocks. Some poor stalkers had become mutant meals, it seemed.

The forest was filled with haze, the mist descending to root level. Visibility became rather limited, and thus I trudged on, flinging bolts ahead at anything that looked even slightly suspicious. I arrived at a watchtower on top of an almost barren hill and climbed up to get my bearings. It was still too misty to see much beyond trees and hills, but amidst the haze I could spot a road down. For some reason, I decided to leave a bottle of vodka to the skeleton residing in that tower, to warm him during the cold nights. Morbid, I know, but at that moment it got a bit of a chuckle out of me.

I descended the hillside quickly and saw a lonely gas station. Inside was a green pool of bubbling and sizzling liquid, and a quick flick of bolt into it revealed its anomalous nature. I scribbled some notes of it into my journal and checked rest of the room, finding an old milk jug in one of the corners. Inside was a rusty old M1911 pistol, three packages of cigarettes and some bread, surprisingly fresh looking. A stash of some sort, I thought to myself, perhaps the local stalkers leave these behind like some bootleg pirate's treasures. I emptied the pistol and placed it back into the stash, cleaning and repairing it would have required far better tools than I had on hand. Rest of the stash's contents fit nicely into my bag, and once again I set off.

I continued down the road, observing yet another anomaly. On the ground next to many of the abandoned vehicles, small jolts of energy ran across the dirt, as if the ground itself had been charged with energy which was now overflowing. One more bolt landed into the strange phenomenon, and the energy was released in a violent outburst that illuminated the ground. The amount of sheer power seemed enough to kill a man on spot, so I took a wide route around the anomaly. Better safe than sorry. The winding road soon led me to a broken railway bridge. There was something beautiful about the bridge overtaken by vegetation, last train carriages hanging from the crack in the floor.

Yet my musings on the sight were soon shattered when a bullet whizzed by my ear. Someone was shooting at me from the very place I had been staring at. I ran into cover and observed the bridge through my AGOC scope, finally spotting my adversary after being spammed at with some more bullets. Three consecutive barks from my modernized AKS-74U spat out and the enemy dropped dead. I ran quickly to check his corpse, when I heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the railway. Crouching down, I slowly made my way to the other side through a small gap in the concrete construction. Another enemy was scanning the area below, completely unaware of the fact I had sneaked behind him.

In order to save ammunition, I switched my rifle out for my Beretta pistol and fired three times, first shot hitting him in the chest, next two his head. He fell down and slipped off the bridge side, his corpse slamming into the ground below. I went to check on the corpses now. Idiots had tried to snipe me with submachine guns. They had long trenchcoats and completely inadequate skimasks as their gear, and an odd skull patch at their sleeves. Further inspection of their belongings revealed that they were part of the bandit faction. I scribbled even more notes into my diary and rose up, intent on leaving the forest finally.

Fate threw one last hurdle at me however. I found some more stalker stashes here and there, one on top of a large rock in the midst of a small opening, other behind a pipe grate. Under a small bridge with a drain pipe, I ran into something that could only be described as a zombie. It looked human and was still wearing a gasmask, but it could only produce wails and growls as it approached. I unsheathed my knife and struck it into its jaw, stopping its groans once and for all. Some bridge trolls you have here in Ukraine, I thought to myself before continuing down the pavement. There I ran into something that was definitely not one of the dogs, boars or pigs the major told us about. This was a wolf. And also wasn't. It was the size of a black bear, but fast and bulky. It was hunting some poor fox, but dropped its prey once it spotted me. I was certain I would not have enough ammo to kill it, and I must admit I panicked a little.

But then I saw it. A flicker of energy on the ground. More of it. I jumped behind the flickering and raised my gun, firing a burst at the charging mutant. It got angrier and rushed me recklessly. It seemed to tunnel vision on me, and that proved to be its undoing. The anomaly triggered, and I could see the electric current pass through the mutant, twisting its muscles and setting its fur on fire. It managed to wobble out of the anomaly range, just to collapse right in front of me. With the beast dead, I snapped a photo of it for further research, wrote down some notes on it and the use of anomalies as defensive weapons, and finally, skinned the mutant. It wasn't easy, my little boot knife struggling to pierce its hide, but I got enough parts for study. I flinged them to the side of my backbag and finally, after what had felt like forever, I stepped out of Darkscape.