Blood for blood

Automatic chirping is scratching at the broken windows from the street. I admit, it's a little scary to hear at night. Especially if it happens not so far from your shelter. The cigarette that had been lit for a long time was already smoldering, and I was still listening. Should I intervene or not? Throwing the cigarette out the window, I looked out after it: the advantage, without a doubt, was on the side of «Duty». But I was not rooting for them or for Freedom. Both of them thoughtlessly spat lead, and this «war» was already beginning to bother me. I've been sitting here for who knows how long and I can't even get out: these assholes aren't friends with mercenaries. However, I'm not particularly law-abiding either. Since victory is on the side of «Duty», then why don't I help those anarchists a little? Putting on a silencer, I looked out the window and began to aim. I spotted one exoskeleton, pulled the trigger — BOOM! The stalker staggered, crashed to the ground. I aimed at his arm so that it wouldn't be so easy for him to cross himself before the next battle. Tracked down a few more. More shots… that's enough, otherwise it won't be fair at all. I tried to wipe the insidious smile off my face as I reloaded the rifle. In the next second, I even jumped out of surprise: someone else's bullet flew very close, stuck somewhere in the boards. Did they notice me? The darkness is oppressive, both Duty and Freedom are still fighting. And the shot was like… like a sniper rifle was being fired. A kind of «spit». Immediately grabbing a pair of binoculars, I began to peer into the darkness, into the broken windows of houses, into bushes and trees, briefly ran through the battlefield and… well, I didn't see anyone with a rifle. Such a thing after several years in the Zone couldn't seem to happen for sure. I'd like to get the hell out of here. To the base, that is. To the «comrades». It would be a shame for me to get lost in such darkness, or to get into an anomaly, or to catch a bullet… There are many options, and none of them suited me. All that remained was to sit here for the night, in the house shaking from the slightest breeze and choose the closest route to the base on the map. I didn't notice at all how the shots outside began to subside rapidly. I listened again but still didn't dare to look out. No more rifle shots were heard. Maybe it was, but its owner was quickly removed? Maybe. And this means that the sniper's hands are clearly not growing out of his shoulders. 'If the arms don't grow out of the shoulders, then this person is a mutant…' I added aloud, putting away the rifle with binoculars. The shots stopped completely, and the light from the headlamps of the stalkers still strove to declare itself through the window and cracks of my modest shelter. Only after a while the lights stopped flashing. Everything went quiet. I wonder whose side the victory is on? I think I can find out tomorrow. I didn't dare go down to the first floor and stayed in the attic. It was not the first time I had to sleep anywhere, so, putting a backpack under my head and a rifle under my arm, I lay down with thoughts of dear «comrades». The sniper rifle… the damn weapon tried to appear to me even in my dreams. The terrifying muzzle was pointed straight at me. Someone's steel hands, enveloped in darkness, held her for a long time, tormenting me, making me nervous. I couldn't even move. I felt myself getting colder every second while someone else's finger was deciding whether to press or not? I've never felt like this before… Pitifully. Scary, and at the same time terribly annoying: your own life is not in your own hands, but in someone else's. The muzzle twitched. The finger, without further delay, pressed the trigger. There was a deafening shot. I opened my eyes in horror. Light. I took a deep breath and choked on it a second later, realizing that the shot had happened in reality. 'Look who's finally awake.' came a voice very close by. Mockingly, maliciously. Now it's definitely scary. On the right, leaning over me, was a stalker in the form of «Duty». His face was covered by a gas mask, but that was not what scared me… In his hands was a fucking sniper rifle. I jerked. Something rang overhead. I looked up and was stunned for the second time: my hands were chained with cold handcuffs to the headboard of the bed. 'Holy shit… What kind of heresy is this? Who are you and why am I here!?' I shouted in panic, squinting first at the weapon, then at the stalker. The stalker turned away. He went to the table, where, as I noticed, there were some pieces of iron and, of course, vodka. He, as if not even noticing me, began to unbutton his exoskeleton. 'Are you deaf there or something!? Hey!' I persisted, writhing on the hard bed like a worm. 'Too much noise. Calm down.' he said. The lenses of his gas mask flashed blood-red in the semi-darkness. He stood at full length, now without protection. And even visually, this man didn't look smaller. Huge as a bear! '«Calm down»?!' I was extremely shocked by what was happening to stop being indignant. 'Where's my weapon? Armored suit? Why am I here!?' 'Blood for blood' he responded without delay. Waves of goosebumps immediately ran over my skin. And then it hit me like an electric shock. The stalker stood motionless and, leaning on the table, took off his gloves and gas mask. 'You will pay with what you have.' he persisted. I didn't quite understand what he meant. Before I could say anything, he was by the bed, looming over me like a huge shadow. Hands… they… just weren't there. Instead, two massive prosthetics glittered black, tightly clinging to my neck. There was a dent on one of them, as if a bullet had hit this place… are all prostheses so bulky and fancy? And at that moment I opened my eyes in horror, remembering my yesterday's intervention in the battle of «Duty» and «Freedom». His pupils suddenly widened. 'Did you really get it?' A foxy smile spread across his bright and stern face. White teeth immediately clicked viciously near my face. He continued mockingly: 'Aim better next time. Who knows what's going on in your victim's head,' he whispered mockingly and clung to my neck. In response, I shouted something unintelligible, tried to push him away… in vain. Steel fingers gripped my jaw, squeezing it painfully. Scary. He's not going to kill me!? As soon as I thought about his words «blood for blood», he suddenly pulled his pistol out of its holster and fired past my head, so close that I felt the movement of air in my temple and for a few seconds I was deaf and stupefied with horror. He certainly doesn't care about the talion principle. He is ready to tear and throw, because his look spoke about it. And he broke into such a terrible smile that I couldn't answer anything. 'Get undressed… fast.' I was taken aback, and the stalker let go of my jaw and reached for the handcuffs. There was a click above my head. Just as I was about to answer, he meekly pointed the gun at me. Bitch. That bitch… I threw the handcuffs aside. It would seem freedom, but it simply wasn't there. My knees were shaking, and my hands, with which I was frantically unbuttoning my jacket, were colder than his gaze. 'Move it.' he ordered, suddenly poking me in the chest with the muzzle. 'Revenge is urgent, huh?' I grinned nervously, although I was almost going to cry out of despair. It was rapidly becoming painfully cold. I was trembling all over, and he, seeing it perfectly, scoffed. Suddenly, the stalker pulled me to him, pressed me to the bed and bit into my lips. I felt the taste of metal when he began to tear the skin off my lips with his teeth, and simultaneously poked the muzzle of the Hawk into my temple. I gasped and involuntarily howled in pain, not hearing my voice over the noise of my own anxiety and frantic pulse. I'll kill this bastard… If I stay alive. I'll definitely kill the fuck! I tried to push him away, but he, clutching my belt with an iron hand, nervously tried to tear off my trousers. I tried to move my legs, but he wouldn't let me, and I felt torn and shattered, begging him to stop, threatening, cursing… almost crying, I heard his soft mocking laughter, and a second later I felt the touch of wet lips on my neck. In an instant I was drowned in a rush of heat, thirst and fear. Not noticing at all how he took off his clothes, I panicked again. He clung to me again, kissing me. It's fake. The realization of this is disgusting. Disgusting! But he didn't care. He was completely relaxed: he knew that he was about to get what he wanted. Squeezing my hips, he rubbed between mine. I really wanted to puke. 'What? Are you nervous?' his haughty look reinforced my suspicions about his fuckiness. I didn't say anything. My hands crumpled the pillow by themselves as soon as he moistened his two metal fingers and began to insert them into me. 'Please don't! I have money, I will give it all!' I suddenly howled, and the pistol flashed in his hand again. Bitch! I covered my mouth with both hands, writhing from unpleasant and sometimes painful sensations. My eyes were fixed only on the shiny barrel. I've never felt so sorry in my life. He didn't bother with the preparation. Pulling out his fingers, he hovered over me, putting his fucking gun to my mouth, whispered: 'If you try hard enough, then I will be affectionate with you…' …and meekly shoved the muzzle of a weapon into my mouth. At that moment, I felt tears begin to flow down my cheeks. No. Don't look at him. Don't look. I squeezed my eyes shut. The trembling pierced through, like a shot, but I still wrapped my lips around the gun and thoughtlessly began to suck the barrel. 'Don't touch it with your teeth.' he warned, and I heard him click something. I opened my eyes in horror. 'I just cocked the trigger, and you already look like you've seen death.' I stared at him in horror, still holding the loaded barrel in my mouth. Well fucked up… Suddenly, for me, he pulled out the muzzle, instead, abruptly spreading my legs and leaning forward with his hips, he began to slowly enter me. Grabbing my hands with his one, he entered almost completely while I was crying and trying not to make a sound. The pain from his movements overshadowed everything, even my mind. I lose control and start moaning, mumbling something pleading… Closing my eyes, I prayed that this hell would end sooner. I do not know how long the torture lasted. Time… It stretched and shrank, but now it hurt me more from the springs cutting through the mattress. I had almost no strength left to resist. Finally he stopped pressing my hands into the pillow. From such an unexpected and strong relief, I almost burst into tears with happiness. He came out with a soft moan and cummed in a mechanical hand. With his other hand, he lifted me up, leaning against him, and greedily bit into my lips. 'And it will be like this every time you dare to point a gun at me again.' he whispered in my ear, 'Do you understand what I'm saying?' I nodded. He broke into his toothy grin and patted me on the shoulder, got up and walked over to the table. I don't know what he was doing there while I was sitting on the mattress in confusion, wiping away tears… But a moment later a glass filled to the brim appeared in his hands. Feeling the smell of alcohol, I raised my head: he drained all the contents at once. This man saw my confused look, hid a sly smile behind a glass, and then looked at me significantly. 'Get out.' And he nodded to me at the door. I immediately began to frantically collect my things scattered around the room. My legs were giving way. Everything consisted of a throbbing pain. My hands did not obey, they trembled, they let me down. I barely put on my uniform while this monster was staring at me. I somehow put on a bulletproof vest, already approaching the cherished door, where my rifle was lying. Pulled the handle — closed. I looked at him with wild fear. There was a satisfied grin, and he threw a shiny key at my feet. I fell out as soon as the door creaked open, letting in cold air. It was like everything was fake. It's disgusting outside. Nasty people are looking at me. His people. Stalkers are standing under the visor of the house, hiding from acid rain, caps pushed to the back of their heads, faces crumpled after sleep, cigars in their teeth. Everyone is funny, laughing and looking at me, bitches, mockingly. I barely got up from my trembling knees, wiping the remnants of tears from my red cheeks with my sleeve. I have never felt so humiliated. Trampled. Destroyed. Broken and broken. And the most disgusting thing about it is that I, the bastard, am to blame for it all. I climbed into this hell myself and got paid for it. Deservedly paid…