Balázs Pataki - S.T.A.L.K.E.R. - Northern Passage

She will get herself killed. I must stop her. Now.

Tarasov is about to navigate through the last narrow passage between two containers when two men block his path.

“What’s the hurry, vasha?”

The two Chechen mobsters give him a grim smile and draw knives. Like a ghost, the third one appears on the top of the container and jumps down, blocking Tarasov’s way backward.

The Chechen grins. “I have a blade with your name on it.“

“Brothers! My proud children!”

Sultan’s words and the applause that follows them echo in the maze of railway containers. They are all empty now, with all Bandits gathering at the giant helicopter to hear what their leader has to say. Tarasov knows that no help will come, neither will there be anyone to witness this fight.

“My Bandit brothers, let me address you first.”

Tarasov steps to the container to his right and turns to face his three attackers.

“I say to all of you, you have been treated to this day with no respect. Borov, Yoga and the other so-called leaders before me—you’ve earned them money, made them rich, and asked for little. It is time for you to stand up!”

The Chechen to his left stabs at him. Tarasov dodges the attack with a quick bend backwards. His left hand grasps and twists the arm holding the knife, forcing the Chechen to bow and expose his temple where Tarasov delivers an incapacitating edge-of-hand blow with his right.

“I see Renegades amongst you. For so long, your small faction has been fighting in vain for a place under the sun. Those times are over—no one will kick you around anymore!”

His left hand goes up to block the frontal stab by his nearest opponent, glides down the forearm, grasps the wrist and twists it to make the Chechen fall. The fingers holding the knife loosen in pain and in the next second, the weapon is in Tarasov’s left hand.

“I see many brave Dutyers here. Your officers will no longer send you to face the evils of the expanding Zone, while generals like Voronin cowardly hide in their bunkers!”

The third aims at his abdomen, putting all his strength into it as he bends forward. Tarasov steps back to dodge the stab, grabs the forehead of his attacker with his right hand and kicks his feet to make him lose balance. The knife in his left pierces through his attacker’s windpipe. In the next second when he falls on his back, the Bandit opens his mouth to emit a cry of pain but instead of the cry blood begins to gush.

“I rejoice over seeing the best of Freedom with us, who were smart enough to realize that no freedom comes from anarchy.“

His first attacker has shaken off the effects of the incapacitating blow to his temple. Getting to his feet gives Tarasov the one second he needs to draw his silenced rifle, work off the safety and pull the trigger.

“All of you, forget your old factions! Find true camaraderie that exists only among brothers who share their best and direst moments alike.“

The third mobster is writhing on the ground, his left hand clutching his dislocated right wrist as if that could ease the pain. The curses he is hissing turn into a low cry of despair when he sees Tarasov taking aim at him. For a split second, he stares at the rifle barrel like a paralyzed rabbit would at a snake that’s about to strike.

“I’m proud to lead you. We shall go to the New Zone together and have bloody adventures.”

However, the Val has no visible muzzle flash to make him see it coming, neither does it emit any noise that would make anyone nearby aware of another short burst being fired.

“And we will suckle on the New Zone’s riches as on a whore’s tits until we can suckle no more, and then, when enough Stalkers have died, we will be the masters! For if Stalkers will not give, we will take!“

A loud cheer follows Sultan’s words.

When Tarasov at last reaches the landing area and sees the tightly packed crowd between the containers and the helicopter, his heart sinks — there appears to be no chance to find Nooria in time. Nonetheless, he takes a deep breath and begins to fight his way through the crowd.

Sultan’s bodyguards appear to have fallen to the excitement hanging in the air, or maybe it is just negligence towards her fragile and apparently unarmed figure, but not even Knuckles seems to notice Nooria when she at last emerges from the mass and approaches the ramp a few meters away. All she has to do now is to slip in, approach Sultan from the back and let her blade do the rest. Quick and small as she is, she might even have a chance to get away in the commotion that would surely follow. She is too focused on the kill ahead to detect the sinister, exoskeleton-clad Bandit following her to the helicopter.

“And now, brothers, let us leave the Exclusion Zone and wreak havoc on the New Zone,” Sultan says merrily into the megaphone’s mouthpiece. ”Don’t be surprised to see the Red Cross on these helicopters! We are on a humanitarian mission because we will put many suffering Stalkers out of their misery! ”

The thundering laugh and applause of more than a hundred men follow his words.

Nooria is already behind the kingpin and his bodyguards. Sultan replies to the cheering crowd by darting his fists into the air.

“Sultan! Sultan! Sultan!”

He repeats the triumphant gesture as the crowd shouts his name. Nooria knows: if she stabs him, a jerk in Sultan’s body would inevitably follow. If stabbed at the right moment, this gesture might hide the convulsion. It could be done in a second — just stab, turn the blade around, pull it out and hide it. With Sultan being now only a few steps away, her stomach is in knots. She swallows to get rid of the nausea mounting in her throat.

“Yes! Onward to the New Zone, brothers!”

Not even the cheer of the crowd can make Nooria ignore the wild thumping of her heart when Knuckles finally notices her and gives her a bow. Then he turns his eyes towards the crowd again. After sliding through two bodyguards behind Sultan, she is at last there, right behind him.

Apparently done with addressing his followers, Sultan waves his hands once more.

Nooria recognizes the now or never situation. Standing right behind Sultan, her right hand slips under her coat and reaches for the blade in her belt.

A steely hand grabs at her arm. Looking up, Nooria sees the Bandit who gave them the suspicious gaze upon arrival.

“No!” he whispers, audible only to her through the cheer the Bandits are giving to their leader.

She still could do it as long as the cheering lasts. Determined not to waste this last chance, Nooria uses her free hand to unsheathe the blade.

Suddenly she feels as if someone has punched right into her stomach. Insurmountable nausea comes over her and forces her to bend forward and grab at Sultan’s coat. The exoskeleton-clad Bandit lets go of Nooria’s arm.

The kingpin turns around. Immense surprise appears on his face when he sees Nooria vomiting and desperately clutching at his spoilt trench coat.

Sultan gives one of his jovial laughs. “Margarita! Airsick already? We didn’t even lift off!”

He fishes a pack of paper tissues from his pocket. Seeing that she is still suffering from the cramp and utterly embarrassed as well, he cleans her face up without hesitation.

“Congratulations on your speech, boss,” Jack says. “Especially the suckling on tits part.”

“That was from Gladiator, one of my favorite movies. Educate yourself, Jack… but first clean up this mess.” Sultan lets the tissue fall into the pool of vomit at Nooria’s feet. “You don’t want to fly with this tin can smelling like this, do you?”