Chapter Twenty Two: How We First Met

Comforted by Aleks' hasty exit, Artyom felt as if he could think and breathe normally again; it was as if a fog was suffocating him when she was around and his mind just spun in circles. The shock and embarrassment of her advanced knowledge of firearms still reigned, hitting him more sharply as he caught sight of Melnik shaking his head solemnly. For a minute, Artyom thought the Colonel might turn and admonish him for being so dull by comparison, but then he began to speak in a mournful tone.

"I wish she had come to us sooner." Melnik sighed, a regretful frown on his lips. "I didn't even think that Hunter had so much spare time to spend with her – or anyone, really. But perhaps his requests for extra assignments gave him the opportunity to visit her more often. Now, I'm sure of it."

"You would have welcomed her? Even back at Polis?" Ulman inserted, coming back around the corner with three sets of hearing protection.

"He did mention her before, about a year or so ago. He'd been spending more and more time out on patrols, though he always checked in on time. I could tell something was on his mind, so I asked him outright." Melnik shifted his stance, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "At first he told me he'd been visiting an old friend, but I didn't believe him. Finally he came clean and told me he had been meeting a girl at Novokuznetskaya. He was pretty enamored with her."

"So you knew about it all along and never did anything?" Ulman challenged the Colonel with a harsh tone, but Artyom couldn't be sure what he had to be angry about.

"We can't just adopt every man's mistress into our fold! Smolensk was already overcrowded… you have to think about these things when you're in command." Melnik sighed harshly as if letting off steam, knowing that no reason was good enough to atone for the loss of their best soldier.

"Mistress?!" Ulman yelled, amused by the sentiment but still sounding irritated. "Hunter wasn't married! Well, I guess they basically could have been. But Aleks is clearly a different breed of woman; we could use a soldier like her."

"I know that now!" Melnik roared and then hushed his voice as perhaps Aleks was still nearby. "I know it's my fault – that I didn't listen to him when he came to me about the Dark Ones. You're thinking that she could have joined the Order and been his partner and gone with him to the Gardens, that they could have been a team and protected each other. Perhaps it was all possible at one point… only it didn't happen that way. Hunter never asked me about immigration. In fact, I asked him what he intended to do about her, and as much as I believe that he wanted her here – she refused him."

What a thought! Artyom paused, running quickly through the idea in his mind; Aleks and Hunter going together to the Gardens. Would they have stopped in Exhibition at all? Would she or Hunter have even paid Artyom any mind? Perhaps Hunter would indeed still be here if he had gone with a partner like her. But then, Artyom would never have needed to leave his home station and journey to Polis.

"Why would she turn down an offer to join us? Especially if she apparently loved him so damn much!" Ulman growled, taking the Mosin in his grasp and working the bolt repetitively out of frustration.

"Because of her people… back at Avtozavodskaya." Artyom spoke up timidly at first because he hadn't been involved in the conversation, but he caught sight of the surprised look on the faces of the other two men and was reassured that they were intently listening. "She is the head of Roten Spaten, remember? Her men are not just soldiers, they are like a family, and they also protect the citizens at Avtozavod. She couldn't just abandon her station and leave it without leadership. No matter how much she and Hunter… no matter how good the opportunity sounds."

Ulman and Melnik had been silent, glancing at each other and then back to Artyom, each with a pensive look on their face as if they hadn't fully understood where Aleks had come from and what her motives were, let alone how Artyom himself came to know so well.

"Actually, we were just talking about whether she would stay or not." Artyom looked over at the Vintorez on the bench, wondering why Aleks hadn't put it back in the wooden case. Maybe she just didn't want to sift through the memorabilia again.

"And?" Both Melnik and Ulman pressed him for the answer to the question on everyone's minds. Artyom was slightly amused that he had been wondering about the same thing, thinking that Melnik had already instigated a plan to sign her on and yet it turned out that he had known more than anyone.

"She hasn't decided anything for certain yet. She seems… regretful, and she knew that Hunter wanted her to join the Order but I think now that she is here it only reminds her that she never listened to him." Artyom looked off into the distance where her silhouette last loomed by the door, thinking of her more by the sympathetic pain in his heart than the actual memory.

Melnik and Ulman exchanged glances once more, apparently both realizing the opportunity in front of them. Ulman remained silent, talking to Melnik with his eyebrows and half a smile, waiting for him to give the order.

"Alright Artyom, this is your new assignment. It'll remain in effect on top of the mission I'll be sending you both on tomorrow." Melnik leaned down and put a hand on his shoulder, looking directly into his eyes to make sure he understood fully.

"Both of us?" Artyom asked hopefully but disbelievingly with an eyebrow raised.

"Yes. You are to stay as close to her as possible. It's obvious that she confides in you, sees some sort of similarities between you and herself. The fact that you were the last person Hunter spoke to means something, to everyone, but to her more than any. Find out as much as you can about her and report any relevant bits to me." He glanced over at Ulman's excited expression and frowned. "Only to me. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Artyom gave a stoic salute and straightened his posture.

"Good. Off you go then; I assume that tone of voice meant she wanted to talk to you anyway." Melnik gave the same knowing grin that Artyom had been seeing on the faces of most of his comrades in D6. It would have been more unsettling had he not just been given the order to talk to her more.

Taking that as reason enough to depart, Artyom swiftly left the armory and headed straight for the women's barracks hall. His mind was instantly at work with questions as soon as he crossed the threshold: Where and how would he find her? What would he say to her now? What did she have to say to him? Should he tell her about their vague assignment set for the next day?

He tried to focus on what would come first, that she was going to finally tell him the tale of how she had met Hunter – or how Hunter had met her, as she longingly stated when he'd first asked about it back in the office at Avtozavodskaya. Trying to imagine the circumstances of their first encounter, he set his visions on some far away pristine station where she was dressed in a beautiful gown and the roguish stalker was instantly captivated by her beauty and prowess - walking up slowly and extending a hand to her as she coolly looked at him with calculating eyes. But as Artyom envisioned the introduction, he saw himself stepping towards her and everything stopped.

How strange, he thought, though he believed he understood why he'd placed himself in the scenario he tried to make excuses for it anyway. Of course, he thought, it's my little fantasy so I would be the one acting in it. But no, he thought, it was not supposed to be me, of course. Did that mean he was also captivated by her beauty and prowess? Had Hunter been the one drawn to her? Or was it the other way around? Was it she who had been captivated by the hulking Ranger, becoming the only one brave enough to approach such a foreboding figure and slip herself under his hardened exterior to greet the real man hiding inside? Did Hunter really have a softer and more compassionate soul than he outwardly portrayed? Artyom never thought of the man to care for romance or women, but then there were a lot of things he was finding that he didn't know about the mysterious man called Hunter.

No, it had to have been the other way around, how else could he explain it? Aleks was captivating. From the moment his eyes absorbed her visage in the office room at Avtozavodskaya. Just as he was now finding that she consumed his thoughts, Hunter too, must have been drawn to her like a moth to the light. Was Artyom only starting to fall for her because of her powerful aura? Or was it simply that her very soul radiated outwards and touched people's lives? Was it her personality that he loved, or her mysterious power over his mind? Is he simply the next pawn in line for her affections? What if Hunter were to return?

Suddenly, a door in front of him squeaked open and Artyom jumped. He looked around and noticed that he'd come the whole way to the barracks on autopilot. He glanced behind him, looking for signage to indicate that he was actually in the right place.

"I thought it would be you, Artyom." Aleks said softly, peering around the metal opening.

"H-how did you know it was me?" Artyom replied uneasily, stepping back and still trying to regain his place in reality.

"I heard footsteps outside the door, and then it was quiet. You were probably trying to decide whether to knock, or what you should say to me. Well, you don't have to say anything – you just have to listen." She wasn't looking at him, but rather at the floor as she hung on the door frame.

"Alright…" He nodded his head, slowly stepping into the hall as she moved aside and closed the door behind them.

Aleks beckoned him onward and he followed her for a short distance to one of the bunk rooms in the hall. He took a seat on the cot as instructed and watched as she sealed the door to the room and then sat in a chair across from him. She had stripped herself of her own armor and boots, and now wore the traditional blue striped Spartan undershirt and a pair of black cargo pants.

"So, you want to hear the story of how we met. I guess you've earned it." Aleks smiled weakly, she looked exhausted and still did not meet his gaze.

"Please, if you don't mind…" Artyom leaned forward eagerly.

"Everybody wants to know, okay, but don't tell them everything." She began in a quiet voice; he assumed she was referring to the gossip being whispered all over D6. "It wasn't just some childish crush, and I wasn't some secret wife he never told anybody about. It was real."

"I know." Artyom said, but he didn't really. He just wanted her to know that he was listening and taking her seriously.

"I know that he loved me, in his own way, though we never really went around telling people. I knew he loved me from the moment we first spoke, from how he acted. I guess he had overheard me at the bar in Kitai-Gorod." Her voice waned as her memories of that time took over her consciousness. The story came alive through her eyes as she recounted the tale that Artyom had been longing to hear. "You would never see him in such an awkward state… trying to come up with the right words to say to me."

Two and a Half Years Earlier - Year 2030

Sitting in the very darkest corner of the bustling restaurant with his back to the wall, the rugged Stalker carefully observed the people around him. There were several tall tables set up around the room, and not a single one was left empty. At many places in the room, people stood with their drinks in hand, as the population of the place proved to be more than there were chairs available.

Eating his supper of pork with mushrooms quickly, he glanced at his watch to check the time. He liked to go to different places in between patrols, as there was always something going on and always an opportunity to gather intelligence. Things in the stations, especially those of the Greater Metro, changed swiftly, and the Stalker had lately been particularly interested in the current state of affairs between the warring bandit clans. From Novokuznetskaya to Kitai-Gorod, there were no less than four different factions of organized criminals who were constantly plotting their next scheme. Although the Stalker had never bothered to involve himself in their plans or strike against them, he had taken up eavesdropping on the lesser bosses as somewhat of a hobby; perhaps also every now and then giving an anonymous tip to a rival clan, just for his own entertainment.

Tonight, there was definitely the pressing sense that something interesting would be happening at any moment, and so he cast his wary gaze at the crowd once more. This is when he spotted it; the building arrangement for a potentially lively display, a private performance for him to revel in. His senses never failed him. Amongst the usual disheveled and scrawny men with shaved heads and embellished pigskin jackets, there was a young woman wandering about the room in a leisurely manner. She wore a long patchwork dress under a dark gray jacket, which upon closer inspection seemed to be refashioned from an old military sweater to fit her slim figure perfectly. Her long reddish brown hair fell around her pale pink face like the picture frame on a masterpiece and although he had at first noticed her for her unusual presence, he was halted by her beauty.

Without question, the loudest table of men was sitting near this girl; they had been laughing and drinking heartily even before the Stalker had entered the establishment. From their outward appearance he could identify that they were members of the leading party of this station, and obviously enjoyed their free time without interference. Two of the men seemed to be boasting about some recent conquest, although he hadn't heard what their gains entailed. The others at the table praised and goaded them on, giving a noisy toast and slamming their mugs together.

This was the setup that would prove eventful. The Stalker quickly downed the rest of his tea in anticipation, not wanting to miss a moment once it had begun.

"Ey krasotka, why don't you come over here and sit with us, huh?" A stout man with a double chin cackled lustily to the girl, slapping his knee as if to invite her to sit on it and taking a swig of brew that then dripped from the corners of his mouth and into his beard.

"Do I look like a common whore to you?" The girl spoke in a crystal voice and sported a fierce glare, standing up straight and squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight.

"Not common, no! Definitely easier on the eyes than those career girls in Venice." The man guffawed again, his buddies joining him and slamming their mugs together in another toast. "But every one of you females has a price."

The stout man narrowed his eyes and his smile faded, he seemed to be staring her down, like a challenge. The Stalker was watching carefully for the girl's reaction, finding his grip had tightened on the edge of the plywood table. For a moment, he thought the girl might strike, or possibly even cry and run off to her tent to get her father or brother to settle the score. But she remained firmly rooted in place, her expression softened a bit and she took a step forward so the stout man could hear her as she began to speak again in a low voice.

"Alright then, we can make a deal." She showed a mischievous smile.

The Stalker was surprised by her statement but for the wrong reasons, he was sure that he had sensed something different about her, yet she had given in so easily. He sighed, sinking back against the wall and folding his hands together to rest his head against.

"Haha! I told you!" He toasted with his buddies once more. "Ten bullets? Twenty?"

"Your life." She spoke flatly, narrowing her eyes.

The Stalker perked his head up sharply and didn't take his eyes off her again, completely bewildered by her response.

"What the fuck kind of deal is that?" The stout man immediately flew into a rage, not wanting to be made a fool of.

"You heard me. I will go in that room over there with you, for whatever you like… but afterwards, I get to slit your fat throat." She spoke with distaste, nearly spitting as she laid out her terms.

The Stalker couldn't believe his ears. Was she simply toying with the man? Or did she truly have a blood lusting price for her services? Who would ever take her up on such an offer? Surely she wasn't serious. This girl didn't look like the sort who would sell themselves to any useless scum that turned up at the local bar. No, this one was far too clean and sharp-witted, he thought, but what was her game?

"Just what the fuck are you on about, bitch?" The man slammed his hand on the table, his friends looking angrier by the minute and each was heckling their supposed leader to teach her a lesson.

"Not worth it to you? No matter." She turned to walk off with a contented smile, waving the man away with her hand.

"Hold on a minute!" The man yelled angrily, standing up abruptly and reaching inside his jacket, assumedly for a weapon.

The Stalker flinched, getting to his feet instantly and reaching for his Stechkin. But there was no chance for him to intervene, as the girl proved to be more agile than anyone could have guessed. Just as the stout man with the beard was pulling out his gun, she slid one foot backwards and turned her body around, closing the distance between them and twisting his arm outwards with one hand. The swift but powerful motion forced him to release the grip on his pistol and she managed to catch it with her free hand and point it back at him with perfect form in a matter of seconds.

"Change your mind already?" She said in a sing-song voice, giving an unsettling smile as she clicked off the safety.

"Uhh, uhh! Fuck!" The fat bandit murmured as his friends swiftly abandoned him at the table. "Let's get out of here!" He yelled as he wriggled his wrist from her grip and turned to run after his companions, stumbling over another group of people at an adjacent table as the alcohol had stolen away his balance. Knocking over a chair on his way out of the enclosure, silence prevailed in the small place for several minutes. The other patrons in the bar weren't sure if they should applaud the girl or go running off in the same manner. Each inhabitant eyed this nimble girl warily, trying to judge her temperament as she looked over her prize with pride.

The Stalker was completely astounded, sinking back into his chair for one bewildered moment and examining her movements as she strolled away without a care, carrying her new weapon carefully with both hands and ejecting the clip to count the ammunition left inside. He replayed the event in his mind, and only now was asking himself why he'd been ready to come to her rescue at all. After a few seconds in awed silence, he quickly gathered his knapsack and helmet and went after her into the station.

Just a few meters straight ahead he spotted her amongst the crowd, walking away at that same leisurely pace and he rushed after her with hastened steps. That had been the answer to his inklings! It wasn't the event itself that astonished him, but now he understood that it was the girl that had piqued his intuition.

"That was well done, girl." He spoke softly, so as not to startle or provoke her as he caught up alongside.

"I am not a girl." She grumbled, not looking over at him.

"No, for certain. You are a fully grown and deadly woman." He paused, trying to recover himself but unsure how to proceed. Anything he could find out about her would sate his curiosity about such a magnificent performance. Where had she learned to move like that? "You are clearly not one of them, either. So, where is it you are from?"

"As if it's any of your business…" She scoffed.

"Listen," he began, drawing up in front of her and forcing her to stop, but then not fully knowing what he intended to say next. He suddenly really wanted to get to know her, understand her mind and motivations. But how could he possibly explain everything he needed to in just a few captivating sentences to hold her attention so she wouldn't overlook him? "You can put those talents of yours to better use. Make a name for yourself."

"I already have a name." She didn't hesitate to give him a smart retort.

"And what might that be?" He replied smoothly, finding the source of his charm once more.

She glanced sideways at him; a look of distrust was expressed as she had only just been berated by another man seconds ago. But as her eyes met his inquisitive stare, her expression relaxed and she halted in her tracks. His overwhelming energy emanated outwards, surrounding her, and she could no longer resist his questions.

"Aleksandrya." It was as if she had succumbed to a truth serum, her smoky gray eyes still locked with his icy blue ones, and she spoke very softly and clearly. "Aleksandrya Adrianovna Dmitriyev."

"It's nice to meet you, Aleksandrya. I am called Hunter." He found himself smiling and tried with difficulty to remain stern.

"That's not a real name." She furrowed her delicately sculpted brows.

"It's a title, I suppose… and my profession." He placed a hand over his heart to express his sincerity.

"I'm not interested in titles, or what you do to earn a living." Managing to break his spell, she brushed him away and continued along the vestibule.

The stalker was completely halted, bewildered by the fact that his charisma alone was not enough to hold her attention. Grown men and soldiers of all ranks balked at his presence, and yet this young woman found him uninteresting and unintimidating. Finding that he actually wanted to tell her his real name so she wouldn't walk away, he struggled for the words. It had been so long that he had gone by Hunter that he almost didn't remember.

"Ivan!" He called loudly, making several people in the area including Aleksandrya stop short. Striding over to where she stood staring at him in disbelief, he dared to put a hand on her shoulder so she couldn't run off again. "My name is Ivan Antonovich… Zaytzev."

"Zaytzev?" She raised an eyebrow. "Like… Vasily Zaytzev? The sniper?"

He gave one quick nod, not wanting to admit his link to the famous Soviet historical figure; that aspect of his background was not up for discussion at the moment.

"What exactly do you want?" She sighed softly, not as if she was annoyed but realizing that now she was ensnared. Although her expression was dejected, her eyes proved to him that she was fascinated by him, especially as she was now taking note of his uniform and arsenal.

"I want to help you." He shook his head, that wasn't really the answer. "I want to know where you learned to do that kind of stunt. If you're already that adept, then I want to teach you what I know, and show you what I do."

"And why would I want to do what you do?" She asked tentatively, leaning onto her toes in wait for the answer and cocking her head slightly.

"You're still not convinced?" His expression now turned serious, as he had tired of her reluctant acceptance. In his heart he understood people through their most slight changes in expression or demeanor, and she was more than interested in his proposition. "Tell me, what exactly brought you to the bar this evening? You neither ate, or drank, or talked to anyone at all before that asshole bothered you."

She attempted to hide her surprised and fearful face by turning her head away from him, but he would have none of it; turning her head back in his direction with a hand that seemed so big compared to her, he continued to hold her, to force her to look into his piercing blue eyes.

"Either you've come to cause trouble on someone else's orders, or you are well on your way to becoming what I already am. We are one and the same, Aleksandrya Adrianovna. So, what do you say to that?" He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her reply and confirmation, exerting every ounce of his invisible willpower into her through his grip on her delicate face.

Aleksandrya spoke not a single word, but nodded her head slowly. Taking in the entire image of the strapping Stalker with her widened eyes, she tried to guess how many battles had made him the threateningly massive and hardened figure that he was. She could faintly feel his pulse from his fingers, and was lulled into a rhythm that aligned with his aura.

"Good. Now, come with me." Slipping his grasp from her pale pink face to her dainty wrist, he led her into the tunnel and away from the station. She did nothing to protest or prevent him.

Author's Note:

There is an expanded version of this backstory in my other published story "Liberation: Deleted Scenes." It continues directly from the end of this chapter and continues on with Hunter and Aleks' first conversation and how they became partners. It turned out to be very long and wouldn't fit into the story here. There is also a bit of a spoiler for Aleks' history in Reich and why she fled from the Nazis which she would not have revealed to Artyom anyway. I encourage you to check it out!