The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the dead of night, the woods were so quiet you could hear the dead sing their melodies deep in the soil below. The trees were towering giants in the midst of the false peace, invulnerable to the deadly doses of lead even the smallest firearms could inflict upon the living.

Yeah, quite the situation I got myself in, huh?

The name's Mikhail, but you can call me Mike because it rolls of the tongue for the American operators in Tarkov. My life hasn't always consisted of sitting in creepy woods in the middle of the night, constantly watching for the slightest of disturbances.

However, it wasn't paranoia that plagued my mind, it was fear. Fear of the unnamed dangers at every corner, waiting to take your precious life away the moment you make a mistake.

Tarkov used to be a good place. Sure, there was the occasional crime here and there as with any place with people, but it was doable. The city lived and breathed, the many different people worked as they did and life went on as usual.

Until the fucking Terra bastards came. I don't know what they did, something with genetic experimentation. What matters is that they're at fault for all of this, they are the ones responsible for pulling the strings, the sole reason this fucking county went to hell.

Within the first few months of their illegal activities, their little political mind games escalated into a raging civil war involving the Russian National Guard, a private outside company hired by the Terra cucks, the fucking UN, somehow yet unsurprisingly, and anyone who wanted to make a quick buck out of this.

Funny thing, hilarious even; everyone thought this would be quick and short, like busting a quick one.

But no, no no no, comrade. No one could've anticipated that the situation would end in a total quarantine of the region. No one goes in or out without the government knowing, that is... if you manage to get out.

A part of me lost hope in escaping, deeming it an impossible task. The shoreline was poisoned with toxic chemicals that could melt your skin off, the airport was a deathwish for any aircrafts that attempted entry, and the walls that caged us were too tall and thick to jump, destroying them with explosives wasn't possible either since they were always guarded by snipers.

Once, I spotted a supply drop come down near the lighthouse, the cargo plane had to use around thirty, forty flares just to pass through, so you can imagine how it would be like to land and take off.

The only sensible option was going on foot, pretty much everyone does here. But then you have the... fucking cykas, is what you have.

Psychos, every last one of them. Scavs, operators, rogues, doesn't make a damn difference. I had no creed, no one, nothing.

Before the war, I was a student at a small university near the dorms. My grades were decent too! Not too high or low, enough to pass as an engineer. I still remember the day fresh in my mind...

10:12 AM, Petrov University

I was sitting in the classroom, steam practically coming out of my ears as every braincell I had was focusing on the task at hand; figuring out the direction of the electrical current. It was no easy subject, but I liked it, and understanding how things worked in general.

"Bratan, can you help me?" Pavel, a friend of mine whispered, also stuck on the same problem.

"I'm trying, but I don 't know whether it's supposed to go up or down since they combine," I whispered back, scratching the pencil against my forehead.

"I think-"

"I think you should shut your mouths before I throw you out of my class," the teacher stated, he had clearly taken notice of our not-so-private conversation.

"I'll pass the answer if I get it," I kept my voice as low as I could so he could still hear me.

"Okay, thanks," and with that we went back to our pages, scribbling down notes and working on the subject at hand.

Suddenly, a popping sounded outside, slowly increasing in frequency. The students looked around at each other in confusion, also hearing the strange phenomena. Some of us, including myself, stood up from our seats and went to the windows. The fifth floor provided a good view of the distant city.

Smoke, spreading fires, helicopters appearing from the horizon.

No one knew what was happening at the time, but we all shared the same feeling; panic.

"Everyone, stay calm! Exist the classroom in an organized manner, everything will be fine," the teacher instructed, opening his phone to call someone.

I looked back to my friend, not knowing it would be the last time I'd see him.

"Pavel-"

BOOM!

The windows shattered, sending flying glass onto the poor students. Screams erupted from all of them, blood began pooling up from those who were killed on impact. In a matter of seconds, the peaceful scene turned into a bloodbath.

As I recovered myself, I noticed Pavel was lying on his side, still as a stone. I crawled on my hands and knees towards him, turning him over to check if he was alright.

A massive shard right was lodged into his right eye, penetrating deep into the skull. I laid down beside him, my mouth quivering in shock as the gunfire raged on. The ringing didn't stop, the noise around me faded into the back of my mind as I took in what happened.

My breathing was the only sign I was still alive, a strong numbness in my right leg. I glanced at the appendage, a smaller shard sticking out of my calf. Someone began dragging me away, screaming at me to get up, to run, to...

I shook my head, wiping away the tears that had formed on my eyes. I stared into the fire with a seething hate, at least...

At least it was quick, instant, painless. Sometimes, I wonder if the real victors of war are the ones who never saw the end of it. I miss you, you cheeki breeki bastard.

I reached into my backpack which I also used as a seat, rummaging past spare supplies and medications.

Pulling out a can of old vegetables and other shit they probably threw in for nutritional values, I wiped away some of the grime with my finger in order to see what it was; carrots, tomatoes and cucumbers, decent.

Luckily, it wasn't expired, most remaining foods were as such. Everything else has either been looted or consumed by someone who was most likely dead.

I opened the can with the pull tab, the smell of marinated plants filling my nostrils. I took a sip of the juice that was in there, a little sweet too, what a treat.

I first gulped down the water as much as I could without anything falling out. Then, I unlocked a pouch from my vest, bringing out a dirty spoon before wolfing down the tasteful goods.

"Ah~ This tastes like shit," when you have no one to talk to for days, you begin to develop weird habits to keep yourself in tact, such as talking to yourself, "But not as bad as spoiled yogurt."

I continued with my meal, all the while keeping watch for any ambushers that wanted to try their luck. How long has it been? Four, five months? "Don't worry, we're sending help," they said, "we'll get you out of there," they said.

Fuck them all, fuck every single one of those bureaucratic bastards.

Averting my gaze from the fire and the bitter thoughts, I looked up at the clear night sky, the millions of stars shining like... well, stars. The half-crescent moon eliminated some of the darkness, but not enough to reveal any sneaky peaky bitches in the bushes.

One time, I witnessed a scav ambush an operator, stabbing him in the back. The operator had quickly responded by turning around and blindly firing at the threat in a mix of anger and pain. He'd turned the scav into Swiss cheese and limped away, but I doubt he survived without any means to stop the bleeding, don't forget disinfecting as well.

Once I was done with the can, I threw it into the fire. I brought my knees to my chest, hugging them for some extra warmth. It was somewhen around autumn if I wasn't wrong, my next priority was to find thicker clothes for the coming winter. It's a miracle it hasn't snowed yet, but when it will... just thinking about it sends chills down my spine, literally.

And then there was the food problem alongside water and medicine. It's easy to imagine what happened to all the asthmatics in the city, poor souls.

The city... what a warzone it's become. I need to get there, it's my only way out of this hell. When the lockdown first started I considered asking the operators for help, my English was good enough to communicate with the USECs. What? I was educated... enough.

But you know what they did? Fucking shot me without asking questions. I was lucky the dumbass missed every shot, but that doesn't make much sense. It was most likely a scav that got his hands on their gear, the implications horrifying me to no end, but you never know.

"Trust no one," is what my father always told me. When I turned eighteen, he said I was my own man, that because I was no longer a kid I'd be treated differently. Of course he was right, but it was still quite the shake how one day can change your whole world.

I took a deep inhale of the burning wood, enjoying the crisp scent of ash and pine.

I got up from my improvised seat and began snuffing out the fire with the dirt around me, kicking in batches until only a black char remained in the middle of a circle of stones. Once I was done with that, I returned to my backpack and pulled out a water bottle, taking a few sips with closed eyes. I then closed the bottle and put in back, slinging the large bag onto my back. Testing out the straps, I picked up the gun I kept laying by my side while sitting; a shorter version of the AK-74.

I'd found this bad boy on a dead body along with two other magazines. One was full, but the other had only eleven bullets after unloading them. It was absolute garbage at long ranges due to its massive recoil. But at close? Didn't matter, spray and pray was the way.

I readjusted my grip on the weapon, the safety was always off, always. I unloaded the magazine, estimating by its weight that it had to be close to full, and clipped it back into place.

I'm ready, let's move.

I began walking down the hill I was camping on, my feet crunching the dead brown, red and yellow leaves on the ground. I kept to the shadows, moving from tree to tree, bush to bush, cover to cover. I even pretended I was a trained soldier for a moment for my own amusement as silly as it sounds.

I wasn't, but I learned the basics thanks to a few kind people I met. I hope they're doing well, but in all honesty? They're probably gone for good just like the rest.

I stopped behind a bush, kneeling down to conceal myself as best as I could. I opened another pocket in my rig, taking out a crumpled map I'd found in a cabin near the Resort.

Let's see... I was... there. And now I'm about... there? No, there? Wait...

Ah! Okay, so I'm there. Made some good progress. I can go along the lake's shore all the way to the Outskirts, from there I can get to the town.

The last time I've been there wasn't... welcoming, but I needed supplies, mainly ammo. If I was going to return to the big city, I needed lots and lots of ammunition.

With my route more or less confirmed, I refolded the map back into the pocket, clicking it closed with a button. But before I could get up, I heard rustling coming my way.

My heart rate spiked and I broke into the coldest sweat of my life. I remained behind the foliage, raising my iron sights to eye level. I kept my breaths shallow, praying that I won't have to engage whatever was coming my way.

The rustling eventually turned into clear footsteps, and they weren't alone.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckcykablyatblyatblyatcyka-

"-ou think we'll find one?"

"I doubt it," two feminine voices became audible to me, odd, very odd.

"Why?"

"Most of them went crazy, remember the basement?" The other didn't respond.

"I'll tell you what, humans are real survivors, that's for sure," a third exclaimed, also a woman.

Not to be a misogynism, but women aren't really fit for war. And I don't mean logistics, nursery, and other similar behind-the-frontier jobs, I mean fighting, combat, death, blood spewing out of your buddy's neck while the machinegun goes RT-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T!

Men can do certain things that women can't do, and women can do certain things that men can't. But together, we complete each other.

I'm getting sidetracked, I always got a good laugh offending feminists and other social justice warriors, it is what it is.

The three women stopped on the other side of the bush, if I wanted to, I could pull the trigger and possibly kill all of them, shit recoil does have its unusual advantages.

But I didn't want to, I just didn't. I hated killing, I just wanted to get out of here alive.

The first sighed, "Why are we even here? I'd rather get back to the Labs than go around like some puppy," wait, Labs? The Labs?

I gritted my teeth, seriously considering pulling the trigger before mentally slapping myself for even thinking such a suicidal plan of action. They had to be USECs.

"Fuck off, you know you want a humie of your own, you slut," what the hell are they talking about?

The first snarled in response, but didn't deny what the second said.

"Girls, please, we can all share-"

"Go fuck yourself," the other two replied together, the silhouette of one of them loading a belt-fed weapon.

...I fucking jinxed it, didn't I?

The third sighed, "Whatever, give me a sec," she then... oh no, no, no no no! She's going around the bush!

I stayed still as a statue, knowing full well I would die if I were found. She was a meter or two away from me, all she had to do was lean a little forward and she'd spot my squatting form hiding from them. I averted my eyes to her, two wolf ears pointing upwards on the top of her head.

...Wait, two wolf ears? The fuck? Am I tripping? The can wasn't spoiled, I made sure of that. Maybe she was one of those people that liked cosplaying? Not that there's anything wrong with doing that as long as its harmless, but in the middle of a fucking war?

I wanted to take a closer look, but obviously didn't. Risking my head for the sake of curiosity? Hell to the no.

She went down and out of view, sending me into a silent freak out. I forced my hands to stay put while holding the gun. I felt like I was about to have an aneurism from the suffocating tension.

Then, I heard clothing fall onto the ground, and a content sigh from her.

She was peeing right beside me! And the smell- urgh, fucking disgusting.

It was bad, but not enough to make me vomit my guts out. I stayed put while she did her business, praying to whoever may listen that they screw off and leave me alone.

Once she was finally done, she stood back to her full height and brought her pants back up, returning to her friends.

"Let's go," the second said, and the group moved on and away from me. Yes! Thank fuck.

I don't think any amount of bleach will be able to wash away that experience.

Anyhow, once the ladies were out of hearing range, I waited for another minute or two before standing up myself and resuming my journey to the Outskirts. The rest of the walk was uneventful, hopefully that will be the case for the rest of my life.

However, it didn't last for long. Passing by some more foliage, I gawked at the sight; the lake in all its dark glory.

A natural water source, contaminated with god knows what. It was terrifying having no clue about what sort of diseases developed in that shit.

I checked the map again, finding that if I continued along the shoreline, I'd reach my current goal in no time. But first, I needed a break.

Climbing up a rock formation near me, I hid myself between some of them. I went prone on the flattest rock available, scouting the area I'd soon traverse.

Silence, not even the crickets were playing their songs. It was a little unsettling, but the water was toxic. This was one of the many reasons I despised Terra, because they did this, they were responsible for this.

As I observed the area, I laid on the rocks, thinking about random stuff. Sometimes, I wonder what's the point in all of this? Why not just give up?

I can't.

For my parent's sale, for Pavel's sake, and countless other people I used to know. I feel like dying some times, and other times I don't. Those are temporary emotions, but life is much longer than it seems.

I was about to crawl off when that same popping sounded, a fight broke out in the distant woods, the gunshots lit up the distant battlefield like a rave.

Ha! Ha ha ha, he he, that's not funny. People are dying there.

But it was an opportunity.

I got up from my spot and slid down the rocks to the ground, my boots thumping on the course dirt, although this time I didn't walk.

I ran.

Two steps, breath in. Another two, breath out. In, out. Inhale, exhale. Keep the pace constant and don't stop.

As I was passing by the decaying pier, a gunshot ran out closer to me, but not directly at me. The fighting was moving towards the shore, shit.

So many screams, though they were drowned out by the gunfire. I increased my speed, forgetting about keeping my breathing in check. I ran like no tomorrow, the sole reason I wasn't domed being the cover of night.

Passing an exposed pipeline beside the lake, I vaulted over a fallen log, the fighting was gradually dying down as it came to an end. By then, I was too far to effectively snipe, unless they had night vision.

I could see the tree line, yes! Almost there-

BANG!

A shot wheezed past me, I FUCKING JINXED IT!

Come on, almost there! Almost-

BANG!

I screamed, "CYKA- DAYEBANO- SKATYINAAAAA!"

I didn't stop my sprint towards the Outskirts, once near a tree I took cover. I didn't dare to glance back at the scavs, or whoever the hell they were. I took a short breather of a couple second before running again, the adrenaline rush fading away.

After about fifteen more minutes of escaping certain death, I plopped down beside a tree, my breathing hard and heavy. The numbness I'd felt in my right thigh burned with pain now, I clenched my jaw shut as a means to keep my crying down.

I hope those fuckers get what they fucking deserve.

I wiggled the backpack off of me, feeling around for the zipper to open the main compartment. Once I managed to access the damn thing, I plunged my hand all the way to the bottom, reaching out for a bandage I'd looted from a dead scav. However, that wouldn't be enough, I had to get the bullet out too, wish I had...

Do I have it?

Rummaging some more through the heavy bag, I managed to find the closest thing to a disinfectant; a third of a seventy percent rubbing alcohol bottle.

I unsheathed the hunting knife, which I also found on the same scav, and readied myself for a really fun time.

One, two, three-

I dug the knife into the wound, hissing in restrained pain, going deeper and deeper until I felt it poke the bullet. I dug a little more under it, carefully pulling it out of the thick muscles. I then flung it to the side, huffing in more pain than you can imagine.

There was one good thing about pain; it reminded me I was real. That I was still here, and that as long as I breathed, I would never give up.

I pulled my pants down to my knees before starting to wrap the disinfected bandage around the damaged thigh, grunting with each tug to properly stop the bleeding. After I secured the wound, I put my things back in the bag and the knife back on me, the alcohol stinging nonstop.

I tried to get up, but it just hurt too much. I couldn't stay in one place, I had to keep pushing forward. I looked around for anything that might help me stand, a long, sturdy branch would do just fine.

After a few seconds of searching, I found it a couple meters away. So, what did I do?

I crawled.

I crawled like a pathetical worm all the way to the mocking cane. When I got hold of it and stood back up, I used it to support myself. It'd have to do until I could find something to keep myself up, a splint of sorts.

I wanted to sleep badly, I was so fucking tired of this night. God, why have you forsaken me?

I began moving again, this time at a slowed walking pace, a painful limp to every step. There was a blood trail leading all the way here, so I had to move, it wasn't even a question.

I believe there was a small bunker not too far from here. I remember this guy, Jaeger? Yeah, that was his name. He'd discovered a few hidden in some parts of the wilderness and marked them on my map as a thanks for a favor I'd done for him.

Who were those bastards anyway? Now that I thought about it, there was no way they were scavs, especially with that sort of firepower. Maybe they were? Stolen gear?

You never know, and I hope to never find out.

Three figures approached the site where they'd seen a scav run across the shore.

They couldn't make out their details since they were hidden by the darkness, but they knew they had to be human. Their heavy gear slowed the group down, but their chances of survival were significantly higher than average, add that to their training as well and suddenly they were extremely high.

They stopped before a splash of blood belonging to the target that had escaped them.

"Good shot by the way," the second woman said, her gun resting on her shoulder.

"Thanks," the first replied, staring at the crimson puddle, the moonlight reflecting against it.

"I'll check it out," the third said, kneeling down to the small pool of red.

She brought her snout to the dried blood, taking a few experimental sniffs before her eyes widened in realization.

"O-oh no..."

"What? What is it?" The first demanded.

"Human, and..." she took a couple more sniffs, gasping in horror, "It's a man."

"Do you think he's a scav?" The first asked, worry in her voice as well.

"Can't be, I saw him run along the shore before we engaged. Scavs never go alone, too risky," the second stated, her eyes darting around the original splash, locking onto the scent leading into the Outskirts and further beyond, "Fuck, call mission control."

"What? W-why?" The third stuttered.

"Priority has changed; we're going on a manhunt."