Александр Конторович - Predator - Escape from Tarkov

And there’s the familiar little building. Somewhere nearby is the bandits’ guard post. You should see the improvements they’ve made. At the corner of the street there’s an orderly structure of sandbags. Somehow or other, they’ve even dragged a few concrete blocks over and laid them across the road in front of it. Seems like a good idea. Otherwise, a car with a decent run-up could smash straight into those sandbags and knock the barricade straight over. Anyone behind it would immediately become a target. The concrete means a car won’t even get to the sandbags.

I approach, and a head appears from behind the sandbags.

“Hey, mate! Stop fucking around. We don’t wave guns around here.”

“Who’s in charge here?”

“Who do you need exactly?” asks the sentry quizzically.

“You’ve got a guy who goes to see the shopkeeper. He’ll do.”

“Then sit here and wait.”

I sit down on a concrete block and try to look carefree. To be honest, that’s not at all easy. I know that there are several more bandits sitting behind the barricade. If they were all to suddenly jump out at me… No, it’s better not to think of things like that.

“Who’s asking after me?” Chewing something as he walks, the guy I took to see the shopkeeper appears from behind the sandbags.

“He’s sitting over there,” says the sentry, nodding in my direction.

I stand up and turn slowly to face the barricade.

It’s the moment of truth. What’s the bandit going to do when he sees my familiar face? What’s the deal they now have with the shopkeeper? Sure, I talked to their boss yesterday and was somewhat reassured, but right here in front of the bandits’ barricade all my doubts return.

“You?” says the bandit, with a nervous gulp. “Go on through, of course.”

“Hey, what about his gun?” protests the sentry.

“Shut it, you!” snaps the bandits’ trade envoy. “He’s from the Predator. That’s one of his men.”

The sentry’s mouth drops.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” He moves to one side, leaving the path free.

“How’s things here?” I ask the other bandit, who walks beside me.

“Everything’s good. We explained the way things are to everyone, and buried the ones too dumb to understand. We’re getting by.”

“Good to know. You can go back now. I’ve got some serious business to discuss with Ogryzko.”

“Fair enough. I’m Vova the Awl, for future reference.”

“I’ll remember that.”

And off he goes, leaving me to walk on alone.

So, my plan worked after all.

A long time ago back in by old life, I once met a very interesting guy at a party. It was a celebration of the anniversary of some joint venture or other – the details of the project are lost in the mists of time. The party was a raging success – the crowd was going wild, and all the girls were dancing round a five-piece band that tore through a rollicking set. I flopped down at a table over to one side by the window with a glass of champagne in my hand. I urgently needed something to eat, and there was a plate of sandwiches on the table.

“Hangover?” asked someone beside me.

I turned to see a middle-aged man sitting at the table. He was quietly well-dressed, and sitting in a way that didn’t attract attention. There was a glass of beer on the table in front of him that he didn’t touch.

“That’s the problem,” I nod in agreement. “Some alcohol should do the trick.”

“Not if you keep drinking that champagne.”

And with that we started chatting. From what he said, I worked out that my new acquaintance was head of security for one of the VIP guests present at the event. Unexpectedly, he turned out to be a very interesting companion. So much so that I forgot all about what I’d been planning to do next, and stayed there at the table with him. It was from him that I learned this interesting concept.

“It’s called ‘raising a dragon’. When you arrive in a new place, nobody knows you, and you need to establish your authority from nothing. If you’re not alone and you’ve got your wits about you, it’s quite possible to manage. Your team has to support you all the way, but together you’ll be able to achieve a great deal. However, there are situations where you won’t be getting any help from anyone. Then you have to choose a very different method.”

The man turns towards the room and watches the dancers for a while.

“You see that long-haired guy over there?”

“The one hopping around on the left there?”

“That’s the one. Now, imagine that we call him the dragon.”

“What for?”

“If I were to go outside right now, could you distract him for a couple of minutes and get him out of the room?”

“Of course.”

“Now imagine that I meet a couple of guys in the corridor and give them a good hiding, making sure nobody sees me. Then I return into the room and sit back down. You then bring that guy back in. Sooner or later, the men I’ve beaten will come to and head in here. Obviously, there’ll be a scandal. Everyone will be looking for their attacker. Which is when I subtly drop the question of who was out of the room when they got their heads kicked. As I left long before it happened, nobody will suspect me. Moreover, I brought up the question myself, which means it can’t be me. Now, you’d don’t look much like a fighter, do you? Well, that long-haired guy does. He’s taller than you and stronger. Sure, nobody will be able to prove anything, but the suspicion will be there. After that, it’s plain sailing. A few more similar situations, some subtle hints here and there, and soon everyone’s keeping out of his way. And then you’ve raised a dragon. You can use his name to scare little kids.”

I laugh. It all seems completely unbelievable. My companion shakes his head reproachfully.

“But that’s just a theory,” I say. “In real life it’s all much more complicated.”

“Once upon a time in a far-off land,” sighs my companion, “there was a war. There was no clear front line, and the two opposing side occasionally made excursions into enemy territory. I only had a small team of men, and we couldn’t cover the whole area. That’s when we started laying mines. Not just mines, but traps designed to catch and kill several men at once. By and by, I started putting round a rumour that a mysterious group of minelayers had appeared in the area, that nobody had seen or knew anything about. Anywhere where I laid a mine, we placed an ordinary glass. It could be standing on a tree stump, hanging from a branch, or just lying in the middle of the road. For ages, nobody could understand what the point was. Then one day a large enemy group appeared in our territory. We didn’t have time to put up proper defenses round the village they were heading for, and we didn’t have enough men. So, I tied a glass to a pillar, and we took up defensive positions. The enemy came, saw the now familiar sign, and turned back. They’d learned the lesson all too well – a glass means death. And they believed it. That’s how we raised a local dragon. The unknown is always more scary. Someone you can’t see is always scarier than the man standing in front of you.”

It was those words in particular that I’d remembered. Sadly, the time when I could have benefited from proper military training was long past. Still, it’s far from certain that my life would be better if I had. It’s quite possible it could have ended long before now. So, we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got.

What we’ve got is a very ordinary civilian. Now matter how much practice I’m getting these days at shooting and the other deadly arts, I’ll never catch up with those that long ago devoted themselves to them. And, even if I do mysteriously develop spectacular skills, it’s always worth remembering the classical example of Achilles and the tortoise. Just as he was never going to catch up with the reptile, so I was never going to equal those guys. There’s no point in pretending that as I progress they’re simply resting on their laurels. We’re in no situation to relax round here. Anybody who stands still is going to lose out to those who are moving forward.