Well, what a shitty year this was. Some serious health issues alongside the whole pandemic thing made this chapter wait nearly a year to finish. But it's finally here. Enjoy.
A strong gust of wind howled past Sharp and violently shook the trees around him. It was the seventh time since he ventured inside the forest, the STALKER shivered at the sudden cold it brought and put his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, he kept on walking trying to ignore the weather's ongoing tantrum, and only after one last blast of freezing air did it finally stopped.
Sharp grumbled, whatever charm he found in this new place the forest quickly took it away. The trees were imposing in both height and side, the road was much rougher, ascending and descending with no end, the whole place felt lifeless, like nothing with a pulse was welcome here, and worst every so often the wind came back to remind him of the annoying cold.
This simply couldn't get any wor-
Sharp abruptly put an end to that thought. He stopped and warily looked up past the treetops expecting a downpour to drench him, thankfully there weren't any clouds that could answer his poorly timed grievance, Sharp was not the kind to believe in superstitions but he would rather not test his luck in this particular moment. The empty void of a sky gave him some comforting peace of mind, there would be no storms anytime soon. Curiously, he noticed a lack of stars too, the only thing he could distinguish was the Moon, a bit difficult to see because of the forest canopy but nevertheless still as bright as yesterday.
Sharp kept contemplating the Moon, and soon found himself sitting down, he could continue later, right now he wanted to rest and take his mind away from everything that happened so far, the Moon helped him do both. Sharp smiled, he was glad to see it again, back in The Zone it was rare to even distinguish it, and here he managed to see it two nights in a row.
Back in The zone... did he actually thought it like that? Sharp tried to shrug it off as tired rambling from all his walking but couldn't stop thinking about it. Was he really out? The more he thought about it, the more sense it had. There were no mutants, no anomalies, not even a single radiated spot, it would explain why his PDA didn't track him, and in all honesty the idea of an anomaly sending him somewhere else doesn't sound half impossible considering what The Zone is and has...
A groan escaped his mouth, his situation just got much worse. Many people would've thought of escaping that forsaken, lawless hole to be a good thing, but not sharp. For all of the shit it had, it was a safe place for people on the run, being a STALKER was already enough to get in trouble, trespassing into The Zone is a crime and one serious enough to be shot on sight. Not to mention the weapons on him that were illegally purchased if not outright stolen, or the worrying fact he already killed someone with two witnesses to the act.
Sharp stood up and resumed his walking, he had a really good incentive to return to that forsaken, lawless hole as soon as possible. He only hoped he was not too far away to return on foot.
Time went on and his journey remained mercifully unbothered, the road started to feel better maintained, and the trees began to sparse out from each other, the overwhelming nature of the forest turned almost serene. Sharp was pleased watching the changes around him, it made the walking more tolerable and made him feel his travel was making progress. His walking abruptly stopped when he noticed an object between the road and the trees, stuck to the ground was a long pole with a rectangular board on top, Sharp rushed to check on it and smiled widely when the object turned out to be a sign, made of worn wood, and noticeably tilting aside.
Seek and you shall find, finally a clue! Anxiously he grabbed the sign by the board and with a quick flick of his lighter illuminated it.
It had a single word written on it, made of six letters, and in a language he didn't understand.
Sharp remained looking at the sign, his smile completely gone. He didn't know what the sign said but he did know what it meant for him; whatever language that was, it's not Russian, nor Ukrainian. Not only he was far away from The Zone, but he was also out of Ukraine, in God knows where.
That's bad, that's really bad.
He tried to read it again and again, hoping the next time he would somehow understand it, the message didn't change no matter how much he tried. After an innumerable amount of tries Sharp put away his lighter in defeat, he stared at the sign for a couple of seconds and punched it in a fit of anger, making it bounce back and forth. It left a slight crack on the board, but it did not help him calm down. Sharp looked away from the sign, he couldn't stand having it near his eyes, that simple one-worded message was mocking, he couldn't read it, not even distinguish it, it was maddening to finally have a hint of his whereabouts only to turn out useless.
Sharp looked at the sign again, he was tempted to punch it once more, but as his eyes laid on the strange letters he began to think. Maybe he could take something out of it. He leaned closer and illuminated the sign again, he didn't try to read it, instead, he focused on the language written. He passed his fingers over the roughly carved symbols one after the other. Some struck a resemble, "T" "O" and "A," the rest he had no idea.
Sharp guessed, or more correctly hoped it was English, if only because it was the only other language he knew, somewhat. He learned some words from other STALKERs and over time, picking up word after word, knew enough to hold a basic conversation.
It would definitely make things easier, but could it be? No, it could not be. The thugs he crossed before weren't speaking English, his memory might've been a bit messy since he was agitated at the moment, but he didn't recall understanding a single word of the gibberish they were talking about.
So, that meant that English wasn't the spoken language here but probably used the same alphabet. Good, taking out a couple countries, he could only be in...
Pretty much anywhere in half the fucking world.
Sharp sighed, some good that turned out to be. He let go of the sign and leaned on a tree, his hand was trying to rub disappointment out of his face while his mind asked a single question.
What now?
He was at a complete loss, the only thing he had was the road, and the only thing he could do was follow it, pray for it to lead towards a city or something similar, beg that it had signal for his PDA to pick up his location, and keep on going from there.
That plan was a long shot in the best of days and he knew it, but then again what now? Ask for help to the people he couldn't even understand? If they don't freak out first because of his equipment?
Sharp resumed his walking and followed the road towards whatever the sign tried to inform. He only hoped this wasn't the worst idea he could've come up with.
In another part of the forest, Gascone, a man of burly frame and grizzled hair was checking his equipment in the lone comfort of his tent, rubbing his square jaw he tested the flexibility of the hard leather he wore and bumped the metal plates on it to measure their condition, the firm clanging they made indicated that they were of good quality. He nodded satisfied, these should do nicely for this contract.
He and his men were what many liked to name "trouble solvers." Gascone always hated that description, anyone introduced like that were often dishonest opportunists trying to save face. No, they were mercenaries, simple as that, someone or something is bothering you, you paid them and they would help you in whatever way you see fit.
Gascone stood up and caught a glimpse of the open envelope nearby, he picked it up and folded it closed safe, the contract had to remain unscratched if he wanted to get paid. Normally his patrons were guards too lazy to do their job, paranoid mayors that wanted to remain in power, or merchants who felt unsafe during travels. When he found the contractors for this job in thick robes, he didn't thought much of it, many people with a reputation to keep do that, but after noticing the detailed wax seal of the envelope, Gascone understood there and there this job was different. They were sought out by no other than royal emissaries, the gateway to the nobles of the land.
Dealing with royalty and their insidious games was always dangerous, and though they had the decency to pay you upfront and very well, oftentimes you were forced to do so or risk being silenced as to not leave any loose ends.
This was no exception, and by the amount offered he thought they had to assault a military outpost, sabotage a supply line, or do espionage of a rival bloodline. Surprisingly, no. Instead, he and his company were to move to some backwater village at the outskirts of the land, do a strong enough commotion and leave, simple as that. A strange task indeed, and they accepted without doubt, when you're paid a fortune for such an easy job, you learn not to ask questions.
Gascone put the contract away and went to the corner of the tent where his weapons were stored, he ignored the swords and the occasional axe and went for his most prized possession, wrapped in clothes was a unique kind of weapon that few people have seen and even fewer knew how to use. He reached a hand to grab it when a loud noise caught his attention, the screeching hit of metal followed by the breaking of glass. Gascone glared outside, his men became too bored most likely, better put an end to it. He got out from his tent expecting to find the camp in a contest of accuracy with their eyes closed or something just as stupid. Thankfully that wasn't the case, the camp was calm with his men doing their own stuff in tranquility.
After waiting some second he shrugged and turned back, another crashing of glass resonated through the place, the others turned at the source with the same irritation as Gascone, if not more so. The culprit was one man near the edge of the camp, there was a hatched in his hand and many pieces of broken glass around, after studying the damage done he walked back to a nearby crate, ignoring the cracking of the broken glass as he walked over them. When the man reached the crate a hand pulled him away face to face with Gascone.
"The fuck are you doing?" Gascone asked in a mix of curiosity and annoyance.
The man was a bit shocked, but answered nonetheless, "uh, practicing, captain. I throw a bottle up to the sky and try to hit it as it falls, helps me keep sharp while getting rid of these," he Answered, pointing the hatchet at a bunch of empty bottles inside the crate.
"Well, if you need practice, hit something that isn't a fucking bottle, you're making too much noise." Answered Gascone.
The man was about to say something, but the fed-up look of the captain made him understand he was pushing his luck. He pursed his lips and returned the bottle to the pile, he looked side to side for something else to use, after measuring a nearby stick on the ground he grabbed it and thrown it up in the sky, it fell shortly after and in one quick slice he sliced it in half, with a much more tolerable sound to the ears of everyone.
The captain shook his head as he took his leave, does that fool wants to practice, or just piss people off? Sometimes instead of managing a company Gacone felt he was looking after a bunch of children, the misbehaving kind you want to beat up.
Two other sellswords watched cautiously as Gascone made his way back, when he walked near them the pair began faking other activities to avoid drawing his attention, one threw more lumber to the already well-lit bonfire while the other nonchalantly maintained the edge of his sword using a random rock picked from the ground, after Gascone disappeared into his tent the sellswords stopped the facade instantly.
"For a moment I though the capt' would fuck him up"
"Would've been funny to see, if you ask me. That cunt ha-"
A sudden shaking of nearby bushes interrupted them, the flailing of the it's branches caught everyone's attention, something was trying to make its way towards them. Very few of the sellswords were properly equipped, but a moment worth was all it took for the camp to get up and arm themselves, swords, knives, axes, and daggers, all ready for whatever thing foolish enough to trespass. An eerie silence took hold as they waited for the intruder to show its face, a shape began to emerge from the bushes, a shaking blonde boy, and leaning on him his friend of long dark hair.
"Piers? what are you doing here, and what happened to Antoine?!" Asked one.
Two sellswords drew closer to help them move to the bonfire, the blonde barely acknowledged he was being helped, his mind too disturbed by the still-fresh memory. "H-he came from nowhere speaking gibberish, he punched Antoine, an-and after a loud noise Roland... R-Roland d-d-!"
"Calm down, boy!" Interrupted another sellsword, "from the start"
Piers took deep breaths. He let go of Antoine as the others helped him lay down, the blonde sat on the ground and began recalling what happened.
"W-we we waiting on the road to Toursan like we were told, but someone approached us, he wore strange green clothes and talked in a language I've never heard before..."
The others looked at Piers in confusion, one turned to his friend on the ground. "Antoine, are you alright?" He asked.
Antoine negated, he tried to say something but both the blood and the discomfort made it unintelligible, he covered his mouth once more with his hand, now painted red by the blood. "Yes," Piers answered for him, "he punched him to the ground and broke his teeth."
"And you just let him do that?" the sellsword questioned accusatorily
"I-It was too sudden! When I realized what happened Roland was already up with his knife ready, but that man took out... s-something, I don't know what it was, but he killed Roland with it!"
That revelation left everyone mute.
"...Roland's dead?" Finally asked someone, breaking the silence, "how? What happened?"
"He grabbed something small and metallic and he pointed it towards Rolands, then a-after very loud explosions Roland fell to the ground dead! H-he then pointed that thing at me, but instead of... k-killing me, he yelled something, letting me go I think. I picked up Antoine and made our way back here..."
Whispers began to travel from one to another, was that metallic thing some sort of powerful crossbow? Or was it the evil sorcery of a warlock? Was piers even remembering correctly? Was that man moving towards Toursan? The trio was sent to cover the road there in case anyone showed up.
If so, was this whole ordeal a mistake?
The camp began to argue, some coming up with outrageous assumptions of the man and his mysterious metallic object, others tried to rationalize what happened with one thing or another, but one thing remained central in their dispute, he killed Roland instantly and effortlessly.
One sellsword, his back slightly hunched and his voice a bit hesitant, asked the question everyone wanted to hear, "Should... should we abort the mission then?"
"NO, YOU WILL NOT!" Gascone's voice pierced through them.
Everyone turned and found their captain, standing high and confidant, brandishing in his arms a weapon much unlike anything they've seen before, large and made of metal alongside wood, they only knew it was the captain's most prized weapon.
"I will not suffer this company backing out like a bunch of frightened hares! WE ARE MERCENARIES! We fought worse than ONE SINGLE MAN, and we will go through with this!"
Everyone remained quiet, torn between abandoning the job and following their captain's orders.
"But, captain!" Piers protested, "He killed Roland like it was nothing! What would happen if we cross him again!? I don't think we can push our luck this time, we don't even know what weapon he used, we don't even know if it is a normal weapon!"
Gascone looked straight at Piers, without taking his eyes from the boy he aimed his weapon upwards to the sky, a loud explosion resonated through the whole place followed by a cloud of smoke coming from the tip of the weapon. Everyone hunched down and covered their ears in instinctive fright, except for Piers and Antoine who were both trembling in horror, it was near identical to the noise heard when Roland died.
"THAT is his weapon!" Gascone roared, "He didn't use hidden bolts of a crossbow, neither so-called sorcery, he used a firearm! This here in my hands is an arquebus, it doesn't stab, it doesn't cut, IT SHOOTS! Getting hit by one of these is certain death, for it's strong enough to pass through shield and armor alike! Now tell me boy; does this sounds similar to what he used?"
Piers nodded meekly and quickly.
"And unless I heard wrong, you said he shot more than once? Are you absolutely sure about that?" Gascone asked again.
Piers nodded again, recalling the scary memory. "Yes, 3 times in a row."
Gascone frowned, that single bit of information was the only thing that managed to worry him. "These can only shoot once at a time, that bastard got himself a special one."
The captain thought carefully of the experiences he had fighting with and against firearms, most of what he knew could not be applied in this case, except for one thing that remained constant in every scenario...
"No firearm can beat numbers! Should we cross him we must make sure to overwhelm him, attacking in large groups, at the same time and when he isn't looking. The moment he runs out and needs to reload, he's dead!"
The words of the captain reassured them. He was right, they were many and he was only one, maybe he felt safe taking on Piers, Antoine, and Roland by surprise, but even he wouldn't dare to face them all ready to action, he would turn tail and run, if the company doesn't catch him first.
"Yes!" Yelled one boldly, "we'll show that goatfucker what happens when someone messes with us!" The rest roared in unison, clenching their fists and raising them high up.
"We'll teach him who's the real threat here!"
"We'll be rich as lords after this!"
"He will pay for killing Roland!" Yelled Piers.
Even the captain, firm and proud, joined them, "his gun shall be ours! We'll rip it from his dead hands!"
The confidence of everyone not only recovered, a deep desire to fight spread across the company. The whole camp began to move, arming themselves with the best they got and stashing away what they would not use. The tents were packed, the boxes were loaded and the sellswords were ready. The company began to mobilize, Gascone leading in the front and the rest following behind. Their heavy and synchronized marching shook the ground and the loud clacking of their equipment rang deep across the trees, they were all ready to bring chaos to Toursan, and they were all ready to face the mysterious man in green if he dares to show.
The trip to the location turned out to be quick, Something sharp was thankful for. The vague shapes of buildings began to stand out in the distance and the faint talking of people could be heard between the rustling of the tree branches, at last he found something, a town. Sharp abandoned the road and hid in the forest, he had to be really careful now, people become hysterical when they see someone with guns such as his, it would've been terribly shameful to reach civilization only to be arrested by their law thugs.
From the safety of the trees he drew closer with slow and careful steps, avoiding any loose rocks or the occasional brittle stick hidden on the ground.
He reached the end of the trees that marked the end of the forest and the beginning of the town, close enough to see everything clearly and without losing the benefit of stealth. He took a good look of the place, of the people, of the building, and of the whole area in general.
He was not happy, nor thankful, nor hopeful, or anything remotely positive with what he found.
Just a couple of wooden shanks, the dirt road, and little else. There were no lights at all, neither walls nor fences, the most advanced construction here was a water well, and not very well made by the looks of it. Sharp couldn't believe the sheer humbleness of this place, it screamed horrors when the Rookie Village in its ravaged and ruined state felt more developed than this sad excuse of a settlement. His plan went from unlikely to almost certainly impossible, would this even worth a shot?
After a short pause and a conceded sigh he took out his PDA, hoping for the very, very off chance this place had some sort of signal. It's not like he had any other option, and it wouldn't cost anything to try, anyway.
To his lack of surprise, a blank screen was all he received.
Sharp shook his head and tightened his grip on the device. It wouldn't cost him anything to try? He was one heartbeat away from throwing the damn thing out of frustration.
That was it, that was his last-ditch effort. He had no idea what to do now, other than keep wandering around on that damn road and hope for another stroke of blind luck. Sharp looked at the villagers as they kept working, he leaned on a tree and waited for them to already finish whatever they had to do so he could continue, some did and retired to their homes, but others remained outside doing more chores and overall just wasting his time. Sharp shuffled restlessly, tapped his arms and kicked rocks, all in a vain attempt to pass the time. Someone who wants to remain hidden wouldn't do that, but he needed something to distract himself, or he would risk pelting the townsfolk with those rocks for his own amusement.
After some agonizing minutes, what little people remained finally disappeared into the houses, the village was left without a soul to bump with, and a clear way forward.
Sharp followed the road tightly, he had no interest in what little the place had, he walked past an empty wooden cart, some pieces of lumbers, and the odd tool here and there, but as soon as he noticed the well he stopped, His mouth began to feel awfully dry as he kept looking at it. Out of curiosity he picked up a nearby bucket and filled it up, the water looked clean and transparent, not like something you'll expect to find in a dubious well like this, the STALKER doubted he would find any more water this easily in the future, and not thinking twice he began drinking from the bucket, stopping only to breathe before resuming once more, if this water was good enough for these people then it was good enough for him.
When his thirst was sated he took out his leather bottle and filled it to the brim, after that he washed his face and hands, and with what remained he used it to clean the dirt off of his suit. He wanted to give the water as much use as he could before moving on, he deserved that much for being let down by this place.
With no more use for it Sharp threw the bucket back to his original spot and took off, he looked back at the well and considered leaving a farewell gift to the yokels here by spitting into it, but thought that living here was already enough punishment. He reached the other end of the village, ready and eager to leave, as soon as he did Sharp immediately felt his feet dragging on the ground, each step feeling harder to do than the previous, the STALKER barely walked a couple of meters and already he was pushing himself to keep going. It didn't took a genius to know why, he was sick to dead of walking, made zero progress on his whereabouts, and didn't look like any of this would get better anytime soon.
He stopped dead in his tracks. What little drive he had completely drained off.
If he was going to waste more effort going to another shanty town made of sticks and mud, it would be tomorrow, now he just wanted to rest. Sharp abandoned the road and ventured into the trees, a couple of bushes would make a good place to hide, maybe even sleep. After some searching Sharp found something even better, a big tree made frail with age, and lucky for the STALKER, hollowed on the inside. It had enough space to enter and it was far enough from the road to remain hidden. Sharp burrowed inside and made himself as comfortable as one could inside a tree. He remained there, letting the seconds turn into minutes, bitterly staring at nothing trying his best to enjoy this break.
He wasn't enjoying it at all.
If diversion would not come to him, he will drag it here kicking and screaming. From his bag sharp took out a bottle of vodka, his one vodka reserved only to stave off radiation. He opened it without hesitation and drank, more for the alcohol to do its job than for any real sense of pleasure. Part of him scolded the idea of drinking his emergency vodka just because, but he quickly shrugged it aside, there should not be any need for it, there was no radiation here and even then his fireball anomaly would do just fine, if not better.
Sharp killed a quarter of the bottle in a couple of chugs, not enough to make him gleefully drunk but sufficient to drown his pissed off mood. He returned the bottle and took out a sausage, the meal of the day. Unlike with the vodka Sharp took small bites and chewed slowly, He wanted this meal to last for the enjoyment of his stomach. As he ate Sharp wondered how much time it passed, for that matter, what time it was? He peered his head outside to check the night, the sky remained abysmally dark without much, if any, difference, he could only guess how late it was. Sharp returned inside and took out his PDA, it said it was 01:25 AM. That was the only thing this piece of junk remained useful for, other than mild distraction when bored out of his mind, like right now. As of cue he began checking the files of pretty much everything he had to keep himself entertained, even if it was for only a while, he watched the pictures he took both here and in The Zone, the read messages that were still in his inbox, and the audios recorded. Among the audios one stood out, the one of yesterday when testing if the PDA still worked.
For some reason hearing himself talk about how he escaped put his mind at ease, the optimism in his voice, the lack of worries in his tone, it was strangely soothing. Maybe because it reminded him that at the end of the day, he survived. Or rather because no matter how bad things get, there's always a chance to get out. Or simply because he was in a better mood at the time. Whatever the case was, a mild feeling of adventurous confidence arrived when he finished. Still, he felt it missed something, it was rather vague, and if someone found it, it would barely explain what happened.
After some seconds of thinking Sharp decided to record a new audio, for prosperity and his own diversion. It explained who he was, detailing how he got into this mess, and ended in a summary of what happened during this day, the fields, the thugs, and the forest. When finished a small chuckle escaped him, this captain's log business was actually rather fun, who would've thought some random piece of audio would cheer him up like that? He turned off the PDA and kept it safe in the deeper parts of his bag, he should try to save battery if he wanted to keep doing these.
Before he realized, Sharp was feeling kind of better... no, he was feeling better. At last, he began to truly enjoy this rest. The heavy fatigue of nearly two waking days finally kicked in, the gaze of his eyes somehow felt too heavy to keep them straight ahead, and soon he could barely keep his head up.
Without protest or complaint, sharp let his head fall downwards, and sleep took him almost instantly.
Screams.
Sharp woke up to screams and yelling, screams of horror and fear, being covered by yells of hostility and malice. The STALKER stumbled out of the tree, his rifle ready for anything. From the distance he saw movement, silhouettes were running among the place, sharp couldn't figure if they were running away from the place or towards it, but whatever the case he had to go, this was not his problem, and it would become one if he didn't go.
He sprinted as fast as he could dodging the mess of trees in the way, trying to maintain a straight line back to the road. When he noticed the thin line of dirt Sharp wasted no time jumped headfirst out of the trees back on track. When he turned Sharp stopped dead in his tracks, a group of people was blocking his escape path. Both them and the STALKER were shocked to bump with one another, a glimpse was all sharp needed to know these people were prepared for trouble, they wore outfits meant to protect, and in their hands they brandished oversized knives, or were those machetes? It didn't matter, it only mattered that they were not on the receiving end of this chaos.
The group's initial confusion quickly faded off and readied themselves against the STALKER, Sharp readied his rifle in response and kept pointing at them but was hesitant to shoot, guns or no guns they were too many for his confidence, and in a place like a forest that just made it worse. He took slow steps back trying to gain distance, but the group noticed his reluctance to fight and began to draw closer. A thick root on the ground made Sharp stumbled, and in panic a burst of bullets escaped his rifle, four blind shots in quick succession, all of them missing any target. The sudden noise of the gunshots nonetheless dazed the attackers, disorienting them and staggering their movement, they stopped and looked at Sharp with a newfound wariness once they realized what just happened.
Sharp took this opportunity to flee, he went back into the forest but among the trees, figures of more men began to stand out, if they already noticed him or not it didn't matter, that place was danger. Sharp changed directions and sprinted to the only place left he could go, he ran down the road back to the village but as soon as he reached it he found more of them, most trying to break down the doors of the houses while others watched and cheered, some of the outlaws stopped and looked straight at Sharp, grinning with malevolent intentions and pointing at him with their blades, sharp knew he couldn't run past them either, he was surrounded, form the village, the road, and the trees.
Sharp frowned when he realized there was no way out, was he to endure all of this only to die here?
"NO!" he all but yelled, he won't die right after all the shit he went through, and he definitely won't die as collateral damage in some random occurrence that didn't even involve him!
Sharp fright disappeared, He stood right where he was with his rifle ready, prepared to give them hell. Two outlaws drew near with the smugness of getting an easy prey, Sharp aimed his rifle and shot twice to the nearest one, two bullets struck his would've killer, making him yell and try to cover his wounded chest, only to fall dead on the ground. The other, shocked by the sounds of the gunshots, stopped and stared at the body of his friend in horror, his eyes quickly returned to Sharp but a burst of three bullets was all he got.
The deafening disarray of the village disappeared as everyone watched their two comrades die, from the road the initial group of outlaws showed again but screaming at the others while pointing at Sharp, their tone committed but alarmed. Sharp took aim at them, ready to shoot at the first one that moved.
To his surprise, none did. they all remained still, staring at him in both focus and caution. "Won't they do anything?" He thought. The lack of any action from the group made the STALKER restless, shifting his aim from one potential threat to the other. The anxiousness got him, and a blind shot escaped his rifle, it didn't hit anyone but the sudden gunshot brought a unison of alarmed yelling from the outlaws in front of him, and more alarming for the STALKER, behind.
Sharp quickly turned around and caught six of them approaching quietly. Now discovered, the outlaws quickly gathered together into a tight group, they rushed in an attempt to overwhelm the STALKER in their numbers, with the most armored ones in front, ready to soak up the damage and make way for their comrades behind. Their tactic only made aiming unnecessary for Sharp. He opened fire with one hail of automatic fire, their armor didn't do anything to stop the incoming bullets, passing through their armor effortlessly, the vanguard died as soon as it was formed, and without making any meaningful advance for their peers. The rest didn't fare much better, they pressed on walking over the bodies of their fallen comrades, trying their best to ignore the terrifying mayhem of the gunshots. They quickly died one after the other, and just like the vanguard, without reaching the STALKER.
As the last body fell Sharp instinctively turned again, he didn't forgot about the first group, and when he did the STALKER found them halfway into reaching him. As soon as the first shot was fired the outlaws began to spread out trying to gain as much distance from each other, Sharp couldn't take the time to aim, and emptied what bullets he had left against the incoming outlaws, the first one fell after a couple shots, the one near pressed on but he too died before reaching Sharp, the third stopped as panic invaded him, and before he could try to escape the bullets struck him.
Their attack halted just as sharp's rifle clicked empty of any more shots. The numerous outlaws were reduced nearly by half, and though the numbers were still in their favor, none dared to attack and be the next target. the STALKER took the precious seconds of pause to reload, as the new mag clicked ready in his rifle Sharp once more turned around expecting another wave rushing at him, he found more of them gathered to the edges of the town, but this time all were rooted to the spot, not moving towards him, they weren't trying to get his attention for someone else to go forth, they were arguing and trading nervous glances with each other. Their plan wasn't working, no matter how much they tried the STALKER just kept shooting, it wouldn't be long before he killed them all.
Sharp waited for anyone to come forth and play hero, none dared to attack and draw the attention of the STALKER. Among the rooted outlaws was one that moved funny, the ironsight of Sharp's rifle laid down on him and the STALKER soon found out that the outlaw wasn't even moving at all, he was shaking with nerves of such energy that it was mistook for movement. Sensing no threat from him, Sharp took aim to another one near the trees, who just like his peer, started to lose his composure and began to walk backwards trying to gain distance from the STALKER. Sharp smiled as he realized what was happening, they have lost the stomach to fight, the scumbags have bitten more than they could chew, and he would make that very clear.
A multitude of scared yelling sang as a new hail of bullets took everyone by surprise, sharp was now the one attacking. The first one died before knowing what was happened, the second looked frantically for an escape path before being gunned down, the third tried to run away before the bullet caught him, the fourth was halfway into the forest when sharp began shooting at him. The STALKER didn't bother to aim or save bullets, when one fell or was out of his sight he simply targeted the next without pause, one after the other. The whole company routed, whoever remained alive was now trying to save themselves from the massacre, anyone that died mid-escape only drove the others to run faster. The camaraderie found only a few hours ago was gone. It was every man for itself.
But as Sharp kept trying to pick off whoever he could find, hidden in the trees a figure of burly frame and grizzled hair was taking aim with a gun of his own.
One more gunshot resonated through the area.
That single gunshot, much different than the other heard so far, finally stopped the STALKER's onslaught. The smoke cleared and Captain Gascone smiled satisfied when he found Sharp now on the ground. He was still moving, but it didn't matter to the captain, it was over.
Sharp coughed violently as immense pain ran through him, it was difficult to move, even to draw breath. He quickly understood that he got shot, and with something more forceful than anything he endured so far. Instinctively Sharp put a hand on where he got hit, when he felt something hot and metallic on his midsection Sharp looked down to see the damage done and found a big metal ball embedded on the outside of his suit. Even if it knocked the air out of him, the layer of kevlar inside managed to stop that bullet and save his life.
The STALKER tried to get up but every time he moved as much as a muscle the pain soared, demanding him to stop and lay down. Gascone looked fiercely at sharp with a smirk alongside a scowl. The captain was glad the bullet didn't killed him outright, he wanted to see the STALKER suffer for all the trouble and losses he caused, so Gascone remained there, waiting for the ever satisfying moment where he just stops moving and dies, but the STALKER didn't stop moving, he regained more and more of his strengths, slowly but surely. Gascone's enjoyment quickly turned into confusion, and then shocking surprise when Sharp managed to ever so slightly get off the ground.
"How he's still alive!?" Thought The captain. He shouldn't still be alive! He shot him right at the center of the body! No one survives something like that! No one except... "no, it can't be!" Gascone, for the first time in a long time, felt fear.
He discarded his empty arquebus and sprinted at the fallen STALKER, there was no time to load another shot, he had to finish him right there and right now.
Sharp continued to struggle when he spotted a big man coming out of the trees, unsheathing a blade and hurriedly closing in. There was no meaningful way for him to shoot in his position, he had to get up. The STALKER gathered all the resilience he could and with a loud and hurtful groan he got back on one knee, pain immediately ran through his whole body as he desperately tried to point his gun in the direction of the oncoming beast, there was no time for him to line up the rifle and even then the pain alone wouldn't let him concentrate.
Without aiming or even preparing himself Sharp pulled down the trigger just as Gascone was nearly on top of him. A disorganized burst of bullets flew everywhere, Gascone roared in pain when one of the bullets struck his hand, releasing his grip on the blade, making it fly off, the Captain pressed on and without losing momentum he punched the STALKER right in the center of his face with his other hand. Sharp fell flat to the ground, although dizzied he barely acknowledged that punch hastily pointed his rifle upwards towards Gascone, but the captain gave him no pause and quickly snatched the rifle out of his hands before it could shoot, he threw the gun away and pushed his foot on top of Sharp, pinning the STALKER to the ground. Sharp groaned in agony as he grabbed Gascone's leg and tried to push him off, the captain didn't relent, and in response he put more pressure on Sharp as he unsheathed a knife from his belt.
The sharpened edge of the knife reflected almost unnaturally in front of Sharp. The STALKER let go of the leg and went for his holster, he pat it frantically searching for his pistol as the knife fell down on him, with his free hand he grabbed the wrist of the captain and tried with all his might to keep the knife away, but the difference in strength was obvious, and the knife, although struggling, was still drawing closer.
Sharp's arm was about to give away when he finally got a hold of his pistol, and as the knife slowly began to penetrate his suit the STALKER drew the gun and instantly pushed it on the captain's chest.
Gascone eyes widened as he realized too late what was in front of him. He felt the bullet going through his plate mail, his hard leather, and his body, all in one single motion. He felt it again as he tried to push the metallic thing away, once more when his body failed to respond, and one final time as he loosed consciousness.
Clanking noises rang heavily as Gascone's dead body shook the ground. Sharp dragged himself back, breathing heavily and checking for any wounds in his body, there was a noticeable puncture in his suit, but the captain didn't managed to stab him. Sharp's eyes shifted to the body of the dead captain, his heavy breathing was now accompanied with a dry and exhausted laugh.
"You thought you could take my like that, huh?" Sharp said with a smirk.
The STALKER put a hand on the floor and pushed himself up triumphantly, he didn't felt nearly as much pain as before, and the pain he did felt barely bothered him. He walked slowly and clumsily to the body of Gascone and as his smirk turned into a hateful grin he aimed his pistol at the body.
"YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU COULD TAKE MY LIKE THAT!? YOU DUMB BITCH!" Sharp yelled at the top of his lungs as he opened fire.
The bullets hit the corpse of the captain one after the other in a near-instant succession until the gun ran out. Sharp kept pulling the trigger ignoring the clicking of the empty chamber, too stubborn to recognize the lack of gunshots and too prideful to stop his victorious taunting.
The sudden noises of locks made Sharp snap out of his gloating and look around. The doors of the houses opened ever so slightly, a couple of faces timidly peeked out from them, one door fully opened and a frail old man ventured out of it, he looked in horror at the corpses that scattered the place before looking at Sharp, more people slowly began to leave the safety of their houses, all repeating the process of looking at the bodies and finally looking at the STALKER.
Giving them no mind the STALKER began looking for his rifle, it was clear they meant no harm at all and didn't want any more violence, rightfully so considering what just happened, but when you have a weapon at your side for a long time you began to feel uncomfortable without it. Sharp found it easily enough but when he moved to pick it up pain invaded him, the adrenaline of the encounter faded off entirely, with a hand Sharp covered his bruised midsection and resisted the urge to hunch over, his abdomen hurt like hell but he didn't want to make it too obvious to the staring people.
Watching the whole thing, a young blonde woman clad in dark and rough clothes stepped in and picked up the rifle with the care of an infant, she looked at the gun in great confusion, Sharp watched in slight amusement as the girl tried her best to just grasp what she had on her arms. He doubted the girl could even figure out how to shoot it, let alone understand how it works. Still, you should never let inexperienced hands fiddle with a gun.
Before Sharp even asked, the girl was offering the gun back to him. Sharp was a bit surprised at her eagerness but accepted the gun without issue. It was no wonder why, after all, they wanted to show their gratitude for defending them in their weakest moment.
And with gratitude comes the best part of helping others.
Sharp reached an open hand and awaited his reward. The villagers looked at him in confusion. Sharp looked at the girl, the old man, and pretty much everyone else, waiting for any kind of offering. Everyone looked at his empty hand, puzzled, and returned their view to him.
Right, they didn't know what he meant... how could he explain he wanted money with a language barrier in between?
With his hand, Sharp rubbed his thumb with his index finger and middle finger for everyone to see, some gestures were universally understood, and hopefully the gesture for money wasn't the exception.
When Sharp opened his hand once more the villagers stared in barely contained terror.
Sharp put away his hand in confusion, why were they acting like that? He took care of these criminals attacking them, he saved them! He risked his life saving this town! A town about to be wiped out, a town that had no business being on a situation like this, a town that-
A town now scattered with corpses anywhere he saw...
Realization dawned on Sharp as he looked at the violent remainings of his fight, he was not the brave hero who saved their town, but a terrifying maniac that massacred a whole group by itself. They didn't want anything to do with him, they simply wanted him gone. Sharp Couldn't help to feel upset by that notion, for all the problems dealing with them, doesn't he deserve a reward? Some grateful cheering? A victorious pat on the back at least?
"Ungrateful fucks..." he snarled.
Sharp gave one final disappointing view at the villagers and turned around back to the road, he had enough of this place.
The crowd paled in fear as he gave them his back, the old man hurriedly reached Sharp before he departed, as soon as he got the STALKER's attention he prostrated to the ground, with his hands offering a simple and dirty sack. Sharp stared at the old man with disbelief, slight suspicion, but most of all annoyance. Now they wanted to pay him? And with what, some random sack likely picked from the ground? The old man shook dreadfully as his offering remained unaccepted, he stuttered some words that Sharp couldn't make off, getting more unrecognizable as his voice began to break down.
"Fine." he said, if only to put end to that pitiful display.
Sharp picked the sack from the shaking hands of the old man, he opened it up and found... coins? The STALKER looked at the content inside dumbfounded, there's no way this was real. He reached for the bottom and fumbled it around, it clincked heavily with every movement of his hand. This was no trick, the sack was full of coins.
Sharp smiled and nodded cheerily as he bounced the sack up and down on his hand, now this was the kind of gratitude he hoped for! Yes, these people were weird and they mistook him for a pawn shop, but those coins surely must be worth something, and besides, who was he to reject the poor elder his need to get even? Only a cruel, despicable man would reject payment and keep someone indebted. The old man didn't look grateful but his shaking stopped, a huge weight was cast from his shoulders. Everyone closed their eyes and drew a big breath of relief as Sharp put the sack in his bag, he could still notice the lingering dread in their eyes, but he didn't care now, he got paid, if they wanted him gone he had no problem at all.
Sharp ended his overextended welcome and took off to the road. Without addressing anyone in particular he waved goodbye and ventured into the road, trying to not let the pain hinder his walking. When the STALKER left the village, one of the younger children began to sob, her mother pulled the child into a consoling hug, the sobbing of the child only worsened, making the mother cry too. Everyone save the most stoic of the villagers broke down in tears of relief with the self-assurance of being spared a horrible death, alongside the other they just avoided.
From the balcony of a massive building, a lone man stood there observing the forest that surrounded the place, it stretched from side to side covering the whole view. There was nothing to see from the dark trees or the starless sky, not a single sound to hear, and barely anything to notice other than the soothing scent of nature late into the night. He leaned on the balcony enjoying both the scenery and the cooling wind flowing into him. Such a peaceful moment deeply relaxed him, What could make this better? A subtle smile decorated his face as he thought of the smell of ozone before a storm, that would indeed make it better.
He turned his gaze inside of the building, there was someone coming. Just as he thought the door knocked, but before he could answer the door immediately opened. To invade his privacy in such a manner was quite daring, to say the least. From the door, a man hidden in thick robes and holding a bundle of papers showed up, one of the scribes he guessed.
"Lord Gerard-" said the scribe, only to be interrupted by the lord.
"Normally my duties are not the kind that merits intrusions, wouldn't you agree?" Gerard asked, not taking his view off the trees.
"Yes my lord, and I deeply apologize for doing so, but this is something that should see attention right now." The scribe answered, lowering his head in submission to the lord.
"I see." Answered the lord, reminding himself that he couldn't trust any kind of affair to someone else, for undoubtedly they would not solve it, or worse, ruin it further. Such are the duties of a Highborn like him.
He walked back inside to the luxurious room, detailed paintings and tapestries decorated the walls, and a series of rugs garnished the stone floor, the lord walked towards a pair of ornate chairs on the corner, he sat on one and with a hand offered the other to the scribe, which he accepted. "What is the problem?"
"We received a message, the hamlet of Toursan was assaulted by a band of raiders." Announced the scribe.
Lord Gerard frowned upon hearing "assaulted," when news were delivered with such calm it meant any sense of urgency was already gone. "That is unfortunate, we'll have to send agents to aid the hamlet, if it managed to survive. But most importantly make sure those raiders are punished by their insolence."
"That's the thing, my Lord, the raiders were dealt with, and with minimal damage to the place, the problem is already solved." Answered the scribe, from the bundle on him he took out a piece of paper, reading it as he resumed, "According to what they sent us, they were saved by a timely intervention of one of our agents that, apparently, managed to drive the raiders away entirely by himself. He asked for compensation, and out of gratitude for both him and us the hamlet rewarded him before departing."
Gerard frowned as he slouched in his chair, taking his gaze off the robed nuisance wasting his time. "Scribe, this is hardly something that requires my immediate attention. To repel an assault alone is remarkable, I shall not deny that, but if the problem was already solved by one of our own, then what merits you bothering me like this?"
"It was none of our own, my lord."
Those words reached his ears clearly, but the lord still had some difficulty processing them. Gerard returned his view to the scribe and leaned closer, silently instructing him to carry on, the scribe took out another paper and continued his resume, "no one of the agents here took responsibility of the deed, and none outside were close enough to act upon, whoever was there at the time of the assault is not affiliated with us."
Now he had his undivided attention, the lord interlocked his fingers and rested his head on top of them. Contemp filled his eyes and scorn decorated his voice, "so... we have an impersonator, carelessly dangling the name of our great estate for his own selfish benefit? It was quite a long time since anyone had the gall to do that. You were right scribe, this is something that should see attention right now."
"What are your orders, my lord?" Asked the scribe ready.
"First, the hamlet. We need to make sure everything is still standing as they claimed. Then we gather as much information about what happened, and most importantly, of this fool."
"And then standard procedure with him, my lord?" Inquired the Scribe.
"Well see, scribe, well see." Answered Gerard, pondering the possibilities in his mind.
Good, I managed to finish this before the year ended, hope it was worth the wait, if you have any criticism please send it. I could use the feedback.