24/04/2025
Two Stalkers move cautiously through the dense mist of the Zone, their breath rasping through aging gas masks. The taller one, known only as Makar, grips a battered AK with both hands, eyes constantly scanning the treeline. His partner, Yuri, shorter and stockier, carries a rusty 2nd world war r***e slung low, fingers twitching near the trigger. They pass an old but still solid bunker, sealed and cold.
The air is heavy with that strange, metallic tang that always comes before trouble. Birds stopped singing miles back. Something's off, but that’s just life in the Zone. As they skirt the bunker’s edge, Makar raises a fist—halt. Yuri freezes.
There’s a sound. Low. Rhythmic. Not mechanical, not natural. A heartbeat? No—two. Coming from inside the bunker.
They exchange glances. Against their better judgment, they enter.
Inside, it’s dark, the air damp with rot and ozone. Then they see it: two figures. Stalkers. Identical gear, same weapons. But motionless, standing in perfect silence like statues. Makar steps closer—and freezes. The gas mask... it's his.
His own battered mask, the scratch on the left lens, the burn mark on the sleeve—it’s him. Yuri turns, eyes wide in the dim light. His double stares back.
A shriek rips through the air—metal, bone, mind. The doppelgängers move, mirroring their every step.
The Zone remembers. The Zone copies.
And it doesn’t let go.
The bunker is an older build of a some level HQ (18?) from Boom Beach mobile game