Hello everyone, I am IX404 and welcome to my Escape from Tarkov/Mass Effect crossover. As promised, with the new category that's come out, I have moved this fanfiction over to the crossover section. To those of you that favorited and followed the first three chapters, there is a new crossover section for Escape From Tarkov. Go ahead and head there to find this crossover story again. Thank you for your support, and I hope to see you in future chapters.

As always, leave a review and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Escape from Tarkov or Mass Effect franchises. They are the respective properties and trademarks of BioWare, Electronic Arts and Battlestate Games. Any material original to the franchises belongs to their respective developers and publishers. Any material not original to the franchises is of my own invention. I do not own any music listed in each chapter. Any music listed belongs to it's original composers and/or artists.


Monolith Firefight – Prepare to Escape - geneburn

Tarkov

Customs, Near Dorms

June 15th, 2019

If one had been looking at this particular part of Tarkov, one would think, and rightly so, that the place was abandoned. Trash and refuse littered the road, along with the carcasses of dead animals, walls and wire had long since fallen down, spilling rubble onto the ground, and wrecked or abandoned vehicles were scattered around the area like sprinkling on frosting. It was hard to imagine that this was once a bustling part of the city, with trucks, cars and people going about their daily lives, given that the place was in a state of ruin and decay.

Within a few moments, however, the woods nearby would discharge one of it's newer inhabitants. A brush moved about slightly as a hand pushed back a branch and some leaves, the fingers coated in grime and dirt, as well as some blood. For a few moments, there was no movement, then, satisfied that there was no one in the area, the inhabitant, to whom the hand belonged to, made himself known.

Walking out into the open was a short, grime covered man with dark brown eyes and tanned skin. His facial features were gaunt and ragged, the result of malnutrition, lack of sleep and constant, pervasive fear of the unknown. His clothes, a brown wool cap, leather jacket and blue colored pants were filthy, courtesy of a lack of sanitation at where he lived.

The only weapon he had on himself was a small handgun, the slide and barrel rusted due to poor maintenance. Still, the man held onto it as though it was his lifeline to life. Moving along with a slight limp, the man walked on over to what appeared to be a corpse nearby one of the dormitories nearby. Upon getting closer, the man could see that it was a mercenary that had met his end via a long range shot from somewhere close by. Ignoring the eagle emblazoned on the right arm patch, the scavenger began digging through the man's gear to find anything that might sustain his life a little bit longer.

A smile formed on the Scav's face as he hear water sloshing about on the dead merc's canteen. Opening it up, he drank as much water as he could, the precious liquid slaking his thirst as he drank the fluid down. With the canteen empty, he began digging through the merc's backpack to find anything to eat.

A short, quiet laugh came from the man when he found what appeared to be peanuts in the dead merc's backpack. A moment later, he began to quickly devour the food he'd managed to find. Little did he know, was that action had sealed his fate. He stopped eating when he thought he heard a noise foreign to the environment around him.

Stopping his hungry eating, he waited to see what that sound was, his half-glazed eyes looking around to find the source of the sound. Just as he did, he gave a strangled cry as his forehead exploded in a cloud of pink mist, while the back of his skull exploded in a cloud of bone fragments, brain matter. He fell to the ground, a hole in his skull, as a thunderclap like sound echoed throughout the area.

Just as the Scav fell to the ground, dead, another man began walking up to his position, an rifle in his hands. This man was not only taller than him, he was far more healthy and cautious than the scav. His face was almost completely obscured by a green colored helmet that covered up his cheeks and eyes, with his mouth and nose being the only parts of his face that were visible.

As for his attire, he had some heavy duty combat armor on his person, as well as a tactical rig that was being worn over said body armor. His clothing, boots, and armor had a woodland pattern woven into them, to better hide him while he was in woodland terrain. The only recognizable parts of the man's outfit was a patch in the shape of an stylized eagle, as well as the rifle in his hand.

Crouch walking over to the dead Scav, he moved the dead Scav off the dead merc's body before searching his gear, making sure to keep his eyes on the area around him as he looked through the man's gear. After finding some ammunition, a few containers of gunpowder and some magazines for his AK, the merc began moving out of the area towards the dormitory. Once inside, he got into a smaller room and, after closing the door, took his helmet off to get a drink.

Once the man's helmet was removed, his facial features were far more recognizable. The man was tall, with dark blue eyes that were nearly navy blue in color, while his dark brown colored hair formed a sharp contrast to his tanned skin. His beard, as the man had a moderately long and wiry beard, was also brown, but it was becoming bleached due to exposure to the sun.

A series of recently healed scars ran down the right side of his face, with one such scar running over his right eye, the result of a failed attempt by a Scav to slash him in the eyes. Pulling out a canteen, the man drank some water before putting on his helmet again, prepping his rifle once more as he got up. For most, the mercenary in the room was just another mercenary, another number in the Tarkov conflict that was being waged between USEC and BEAR, two prominent PMC's hired by two differing sides of the conflict. However, it was easy to forget that this man, like so many others, had a story to tell.

For William O'Connor, the man that was in the room, this was true, especially due to the fact that he was one of a few remaining PMC's in the Norvinsk region of Russia, where the city of Tarkov was located at. Making sure his helmet was ready to go for battle, he picked up his rifle, a customized M4At carbine, and began leaving the doors, making sure he wasn't being followed. When he didn't hear anyone else, he began to slowly make his way out of the dormitory and towards an extraction point.

As he moved along, he thought he heard footsteps above him, prompting him to stop. Through the headset built into his helmet, he listened with his ears, waiting for any hint that his movement had betrayed his position. There was silence for a moment, then he heard it. Footsteps alright, he thought as the footsteps began to move downward. Weapon at the ready, he raised the rifle and peered around the corner.

As soon as he did, the source of the noise became visible. A Scav, most likely a man that had been homeless, walked down the stairs. As soon as the malnourished man saw O'Connor, and the rifle in his hands, he did the smartest thing a Scav could've done: he raised his hands in surrender. At the same time, he dropped his sole weapon, a small pocket knife, to the ground.

In any other time and place, O'Connor would've shot the poor Scav. The time he'd spent in Tarkov, however, had shown him a lot of truths about the people that had been trapped inside of the perimeter surrounding Tarkov. As such, he simply said, in his best Russian, "It would be wise of you to leave. This is no place for you."

The Scav was silent for a minute, long enough that O'Connor's trigger finger began to tense. Just when he would've pulled the trigger, the Scav nodded in agreement, then moved past O'Connor, hands raised to show that he was unarmed. O'Connor kept the gun trained on him only lowering it once the Scav had left the building.

Moments like that leave me tensed up, he thought as he let out a sigh he didn't know he'd been holding in. Tarkov was a place that taught you to keep your guard up very quickly. If you let it down for even a microsecond, you were exposing yourself, and exposing oneself meant that your lifespan would get predictably shorter. Still, encounters like that showed that there were still decent people out there; they were just few and far between.

It's time to head back, he thought as he began to head out. The extraction point wouldn't wait on him forever, and the longer he spent out here, the likelier that he would be stranded until the next day.

. . .

A few hours later, he was walking towards the door of what appeared to be a bomb shelter that was built inside of what appeared to be a small hill. Checking the area before he got out, O'Connor put his bag onto his back before walking over to the door, which was nestled inside of a small concrete cave. The door was designed in a similar manner as a vault door, with thick steel construction, well oiled hinges, as well as a small keypad that was built onto the door itself. Walking up to the door, he pushed in a few keys, with a small buzzer sounding before the door unlocked. Once it did, he opened it up and proceeded inside.

When he had first found the bomb shelter, it was little more than a wreck. The L shaped room had been littered with debris, there were no working lights, no ventilation, and there were rats everywhere. Once he'd cleared out the rats, he'd had gotten to work cleaning up the place, though the accommodations were rather squalid to begin with. For a while, he was using cat litter and whatever scraps of paper they could find to wipe their asses after taking a shit or a piss, while relying on basic medical care and lighting.

Over time, however, he'd had cleaned up the place, while scavenging for parts in order to make the bomb shelter livable, instead of merely habitable. Now, the bomb shelter was well ventilated, had bright fluorescent lights, a shooting range, a computer for cryptocurrency mining, a small library, workshop, a nice bed and couch to crash on, a small TV, as well as a top-of-the-line medical facility and a kitchen that would make a gourmet chef envious. The entire place was heated, and it was powered by a bank of solar cells on the outside, as well as a generator inside the structure. Compared to many places in Tarkov, this was a five star hotel.

Once he was inside, and made sure no one had broken in, O'Connor closed the door behind himself, before dropping off his bag on the couch. Sitting down, he began to pull out everything that he had looted thus far today. Most of the items were small things, such as rubles, dollars, nails, screws, nuts, bolts, things like that, but he had a few rarities inside as well. There was a cat figurine that he had found in a building near the commercial district, as well as some firearms he had looted off of dead Scavs that had tried to kill him.

Most of the firearms were junk, but he knew the cat figurine would fetch him a pretty penny on the market, particularly with the vendor known as 'Fence.' Beyond that, there were some essentials he needed for survival, as well as ammunition for his guns. Pulling out the cat figurine, he walked over to the computer and, powering it up, logged in and began a chat with the vendor in question. "Got a special item for you", he typed in.

"What is it?" was the response. Fence was a unique vendor in that he often sold black market items on the market inside of Tarkov, or at least what remnant of a market there was. As a result, he usually took items that were of a rare value, such as the figurine that O'Connor had.

Cat figurine, O'Connor typed back, before sending a photograph of the figurine in question. Despite having been inside a safe for some time, it was in excellent condition, with little, if any damage, at all."Undamaged and well kept. Any offers?"

"300,000 Rubles."

"Done deal. Expect delivery soon."

"OK." With that, the connection was terminated.

Getting up, O'Connor put the cat figurine inside of a small box before walking to a larger box near the door. Unlike most PMC's, who had no use for Scavs, he did have some use for them, mostly as messengers or scavengers. In return for a job well done, they often got some food and water, as well as something to make their lives easier in the post economic collapse that Tarkov was suffering from.

Give them something to make their lives easier and they'll appreciate you, he thought as he put the box into the "Send to Trader" box, with a name tag denoting who it was to go to. Once that was done, he went over to the couch and took off most of his gear. It had been a rough day, and he needed some sleep. Once the door was locked, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, turning out the lights moments later.

. . .

His sleep was interrupted when he heard a buzzing sound coming from over where his computer was at. Shooting up from his bed, he leaped out, knife in hand, only to find no one in the room. Shaking his head at his hyper-vigilance, he walked over to the computer after throwing on some clothes. Pulling up the screen, he hit a small key and asked, "Yes?"

"O'Connor," a Russian voice said over the vid-call channel. "You awake?"

"I am now," he replied. "Is that you, Prapor?"

"Of course it's me," came the reply. Moments later, an older Russian with a balding head, a large mustache and a leather jacket appeared on the screen. Prapor was one of the very first traders that O'Connor had met, mostly for his sale of Soviet-era firearms and ammunition, though he had recently expanded to post-Soviet weapons and ammunition that vendors like Jager sold to PMC's.

While the man tended to have a gruff personality, O'Connor found himself becoming a close friend, as Prapor reminded him of one of his drill sergeants during boot camp, before he became a merc. "What? You thought it was someone else?"

"At first," O'Connor replied. "Good to see you up and about, Prapor. I thought you bit the dust last time."

"I might be old and fat," Prapor shrugged, "but it'll take more than those fucking Scavs to take me down." There was a slight chuckle on his end before he said, "So, how's life been treating you?"

"Fine, so far. I've been busy collecting a few things here and there. I also managed to tag the chemicals that you needed. Not an easy job, but I managed alright."

"Good, good. Jaeger won't be happy about that, but then again, whenever is he happy about things like that."

"If it helps, I did get rid of some of the chemicals that you didn't need at all. That should, at least, placate him."

"Hah! You always seem to find ways to make everyone happy. Good, he won't be so upset after all. How's the GSh-18 that I lent you doing?

"It's working well." There was a moment of silence, before O'Connor said, "If I know you, Prapor, you wouldn't call in the middle of the night unless it was something important. Is there something you need?"

At that question, Prapor's face became more tired, as though he'd just run a marathon in the current physical state that he was in. Rubbing his face, he said, "You're right, O'Connor. I wouldn't be calling unless it was important." Clearing his throat, he continued. "I had some contacts of mine in the TerraGroup Labs inform me of something really strange they found."

"What kind of strange?"

"I don't know, to be honest. They weren't able to tell me, as they were attacked by Cultists shortly thereafter. Since then, I haven't gotten word back from them. You know these Cultists, yes?"

O'Connor nodded. "I've been tracking their activity for some time. They're slippery bastards, I'll give 'em that, but I have logged a number of disturbances they've caused. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think those same bastards are responsible for the deaths of my men," Prapor replied, a flicker of anger crossing his face for a brief instant. "I know my men; they wouldn't let themselves be caught off guard that easily, and those Cultists know how to hide themselves well. Besides, if you haven't noticed, which you probably have, those Cultists are getting bolder."

"So, what do you need me to do?"

"I need you to head into the Labs and find out what those Cultist bastards were doing there in the first place. They rarely, if ever, head into a high security place like Labs; they usually stick to areas like Customs, the woods and the Factory. If they're heading into the Labs…"

"Then there's something that's got them interested in getting inside."

"Exactly. You think you could that for me?"

"Sure. I'll report back what I find if I can."

"Good. See you when the job is done. If you don't come back… well… I'll just use my imagination. Might even send someone down there to find out what happened as well. Good luck." With that, the video feed cut out.

O'Connor let out a slow sigh as he got up from the desk where the computer was at. I hoped that those Cultists would die out, he thought. Apparently, I was wrong. Now, I get to find out what's got them so damn interested in the Labs. With that, he went back to bed and went to sleep.

. . .

The next day, O'Connor was at the Labs, weapons in hand as he exited the elevator that took him to the laboratory. For the last time, he checked his armor and weapons to make sure they were ready before advancing inside of the underground facility. Once he was reasonably comfortable, he moved out, eyes glancing everywhere as he checked every corner.

O'Connor hated the TerraGroup Lab, and that hate wasn't without good reason. The TerraGroup Lab, known more simply as The Lab, was one of the underground locations that TerraGroup had built underneath the noses of the Russian Federation. Officially, The Lab didn't exist, which allowed TerraGroup to perform all kinds of experiments, from weapons testing, to bioengineering.

Once the situation in Tarkov became critical, however, The Lab was abandoned, along with most of whatever was inside. It didn't take long for the place to be discovered by Scavs, PMC's and Raiders, and it too even less time for it to turn into a hotly contested zone. Anyone who went in there knew that they had to act quickly, otherwise they would become another corpse for the Scavs and Raiders to loot, if said Scavs and Raiders weren't killed of course.

As such, he was on high alert as he moved through the facility, weapon trained on anything that remotely resembled movement. Cultists generally prefer to ambush potential targets, he thought to himself as he advanced through the labs, walking through the hallways of the basement levels as he swept every part of the area. Checking your corners is a way to stop an ambush before it happens.

As he advanced through the place, he remembered what he hadn'ttold Prapor about the Cultists: how he encountered them in the first place. Some time after he had started getting his hideout ready to go, he'd been introduced to Peacekeeper, one of the shadier UN officials. Over time, he'd built up his rep with him, until he'd been asked by Peacekeeper to mark some trucks that had gone missing in Tarkov. The disguise Peacekeeper had him wear had left him uncomfortable, but it was necessary if someone spotted him.

It was during the mission that he had encountered the Cultists for the first time. During the mission, he had to divert into the woods in order to avoid being shot at by rival PMC's and Scavs in the area. He hadn't gotten far when he began to see glimpses of movement, all of which had put him on edge.

Eventually, he'd been ambushed by four individuals, all of them wielding high grade weapons, while carrying a strange knife of some kind. He'd managed to get away, but he had to drop the UNITAR gear he'd been wearing in order to escape. That resulted in him nearly getting shot by UN personnel at the meeting point, but thanks to instructions he'd gotten from Peacekeeper, he avoided being pumped full of lead.

When he'd told Peacekeeper, the man had been surprised, and asked for more info. Once he'd told the shady official what had happened, Peacekeeper had gotten legitimately concerned, which was a surprise given how corrupt he was. Before he'd left, the man had told him to be on the lookout for any Cultist activity, and to report any unusual disturbances that he'd heard. So far, the Cultists had been lying low, but O'Connor had followed Peacekeeper's request and reported any unusual disturbances, which had earned him hefty amounts of US Dollars.

Still, the experience had left him shaken, but it taught him a valuable lesson: do not let your guard down. I nearly let it down, he thought, and I nearly got gutted for my troubles. Since then, I've made sure no enemies catch me off guard.With that in mind, he continued to advance forward, weapon at the ready.

As he did so, he thought he spotted something. His rifle, a modified variant of the M4A1 Space Trooper, was immediately against his shoulder, sights aimed and pointed down range. Stacking up against a door, he counted down a few second before he smashed the sole of his right boot into the door, sending it flying open.

Instead of an ambush waiting to happen, he was surprised to find a number of Scavs that were lying dead on the ground, next to what appeared to be an elevator door.That's funny, he thought. There aren't any elevators in this section of the basement. Did I miss something while I was here?

Just as he moved towards the elevator door, something touched his ankle. Looking down, O'Connor was surprised to see that one of the Scavs was still alive, though badly injured and on the verge of death. The badly wounded man looked at him and said, «Будьте осторожны ... там внизу ... Культисты…»

«Культисты?» O'Connor asked, having learned how to speak Russian a while ago.

«Да,» was the strained reply. «не могу сейчас говорить ... нужно ...» Moments later, the man's facial features went slack, his eyes loosing life as he slumped to the ground, dead.

O'Connor frowned.I guess I now know what happened to the Scavs that Prapor sent here, he thought. They ran into the Cultists and were killed. Walking over to the man, he closed the Scav's lifeless eyes and said, "I don't know if you believed in an afterlife, but if you did, then I hope you found peace and rest. You've earned it."

He was about to leave when he spotted a piece of paper in the man's hand. Gently prying the Scav's hand open, he found that the man had left a piece of paper for him. The only thing written on it was a code: 47951.Odd, but I'm here to investigate, so this is probably how I get inside. Shrugging, he put in the code and hit the call button.

True enough, the elevator doors opened, allowing him to step inside of the elevator and hit the descend button. There was a brief moment of decreased weight as the elevator moved downwards. What struck O'Connor was howlong this elevator trip was. The exit for this thing must be pretty deep for this elevator trip, he thought.

It was a full two minutes before the elevator doors opened, allowing him to step out, weapon at the ready. The elevator door opened to a long hallway that had no doors, which struck O'Connor as quite strange. Continuing to move forward, he found what he realized was an observation room of some kind. Checking his headset, he was surprised to get nothing but static, even though he'd spotted some transceivers in the hallway.Must be a Faraday Cage, he thought,but why would you need a Faraday Cage down here? It doesn't make sense.

As he moved forwards, he moved through what appeared to be an airlock of some kind. Again, this was odd, but nothing he couldn't work around, as he quickly managed to get inside. What he saw had him surprised.

The other side of the airlock opened up into a massive room, probably as tall as the center area on the first floor for The Lab, and just as large as well. Inside was what appeared to be a massive structure made out of stone, though it wasn't a material he recognized. Inside, however, was a strange object that was dark silver in color. It looked like one of those museum pieces that a sculptor might have in the exhibits.

As soon as he saw it, though, O'Connor felt something that he hadn't felt in a long time: revulsion.I don't like that thing at all, he thought as he looked at the object. It's beautiful, but I really don't want to be around that thing. It's time to head back to Prapor and tell him what I found. Peacekeeper should know too, since this is connected to the Cultists somehow.

He was about to turn around and leave when a bullet whizzed past his head. Cursing, he threw himself behind a fallen stone column before peeking over cover. Ambush,he realized as he spotted more than fifteen Cultists present. At the same time, he saw a sight that horrified him.

It looked like a human, only it looked more like a zombie than anything. It's body was blue-grey in color, with areas that were black. Parts of it's body were glowing, and it had tubes in a number of places. It's eyes glowed a ghostly blue-white, and it's mouth was constantly open in a howling moan. To make matters worse, it wasn't the only one, as there were dozens of them.

«Убей его!», one of the Cultists screamed, his mouth foaming as he roared. «Он не должен осквернять святость этого места!» At that, the Cultists opened fire.

Fuck, O'Connor snarled inwardly as bullets impacted his cover. Time to get serious. Rifle loaded, he flicked the safety off before leaning out of cover and firing, his rifle barking loudly. Unlike the Cultists, who's fire was inaccurate, O'Connor's aim, refined over the years by military training and experience, was true.

One Cultist fell to the ground, his head exploding as an M995 round punched through his skull, while another fell dead after a pair of bullets pierced his chest. At that, the Cultists scattered, taking cover wherever they could, while firing potshots at O'Connor. O'Connor replied in kind, his significantly more accurate shots hitting their mark, or very close to the mark.

The zombie-like creatures were the easiest to deal with, ironically, as they merely charged at him, howling as they did so. O'Connor found, much to his relief, that these weren't like the zombies that required a headshot to go down. Instead, four bullets to the chest was more than enough to kill the creatures. The only real challenge they posed was that there wasa lot of them. As such, they took priority over the Cultists, who were having to proceed more cautiously.

The fight was starting to get drawn out when a Cultist aimed at O'Connor, intending to fire his SKS. Acting fast, O'Connor fired his rifle, blasting the Cultist in the arm and chest. The man fell to the ground, but not before he reflexively pulled the trigger on his rifle, sending a round flying through the air. It smacked into the object, ricocheting off before embedding itself into the ceiling of the room.

No one noticed the errant shot as both sides fought for supremacy. While the Cultists were good, and the zombies relentless, O'Connor had enough experience to deal with this kind of a situation and come out alive. Ducking behind cover, he felt a round bounce off the armor plating on his arm, sending a jolt down the limb.Ouch, he thought as he fired at the offending Cultist, killing him instantly. That hurt! I'll check it when the battle's over!

As he reloaded, he thought he heard a strange, humming sound, almost as though someone had turned on a computer server. Looking in the direction of the sound, he found that the object was starting to glow with a pale, blue-white light, while the surface had gone from being dark silver to chrome silver in color. "Ah, shit," he grumbled.

Those words proved to be correct, as moments later, a black-blue orb that had white energy on it's edges appeared over the object. The moment it did, it was like a tornado had formed int the room, with corpses and loose objects being sucked into the portal. The air howled as it too was pulled in.

O'Connor found himself having to hold onto part of the stone column he was taking cover behind to avoid being sucked in, his injured arm screaming in protest as he held on for dear life. The Cultists weren't as lucky, as they were sucked into the orb, screaming loudly as they were pulled to what seemed like a gruesome end. O'Connor knew he would be next, as he felt his grip beginning to slip. Even with the gloves on, he was having trouble hanging on.

As such, when his grip failed, he knew he was likely going to die, but not before he sent a parting gift. Pulling a grenade out, he pulled the pin and tossed it at the object as he flew into the orb. The last thing he saw before he fell unconscious was the grenade detonating, then everything went black.