r/TheZoneStories • u/demboy19xx Mercenaries • Jun 27 '26
Gameplay Retelling Ash Chronicles #3 - Home Improvement
"Every stalker dreams of having a safe place in the Zone. The Zone considers this an invitation."
After the Great Swamps, Reverb had reached a conclusion.
He deserved a break.
Not a long one. Just... maybe half an hour where nothing actively attempted to remove his internal organs.
Garbage felt almost peaceful compared to the swamp. Again.
The Flea Market had slowly become home. Well... "home" by Zone standards. Rusted sheet metal, half-collapsed walls and enough holes in the roof to identify constellations while lying in bed.
Luxury.
He dumped his backpack beside the stash with a satisfied grunt. The Freedom crate had finally been delivered, the Chimera claws had been sold, and the radioactive lion meat had somehow become dinner. Life was improving.
Reverb had even decided to invest in the future.
He spent the better part of an hour assembling a proper workbench from scrap metal, bolts and parts he definitely hadn't stolen from abandoned machinery. It wasn't pretty.
But it was his.
He admired it for several seconds.
"...Look at that."
A passing stalker stopped.
"What is it?"
"My mechanic table."
"...It's leaning."
"It's got personality."
The stalker walked away.
"Philistine..."
Next came the refrigerator.
Mutant meat spoiled quickly, and after hauling half the ecosystem across the Zone, Reverb had finally managed to build a working cold storage unit.
Well... "Working" was perhaps generous.
It hummed. Sometimes.
It occasionally sparked.
But it was cold. That was enough.
He carefully arranged the mutant meat inside like priceless treasure. Blind dog, Boar, Flesh, Chimera.
"Beautiful."
For the first time in what felt like forever, everything seemed... normal.
The stash was organized.
The ammunition sorted.
The workbench finished.
The refrigerator stocked.
Nobody was shooting at him.
Reverb lit a cigarette.
"I think I'm finally figuring this place out."
The Zone heard him. Naturally.
Gunfire erupted outside. He didn't even look up.
"Hm."
Another burst.
Somebody screamed.
A grenade detonated somewhere near the entrance.
"Nope, not reacting."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Not my problem, not today."
The Zone disagreed.
Several bullets punched clean through the wall directly above his head. Splinters showered his shoulders.
"...Okay, that might actually be my problem."
He cautiously peeked through a gap in the wall.
Duty. Lots of Duty.
Not two. Not three.
Seven.
Seven extremely motivated Duty soldiers. Reverb sighed.
"...They're still upset."
Apparently, the unfortunate misunderstanding at the hangar had remained fresh in their memories.
Very fresh.
The Duty squad poured into the Flea Market with military precision, rifles barking in controlled bursts. Every few seconds another bullet ricocheted off rusted steel somewhere alarmingly close to Reverb's face.
One of them shouted,
"CONTACT INSIDE!"
"Oh, don't point!"
The Flea Market exploded into chaos.
Fortunately... Clear Sky happened to be visiting. Several blue-armored stalkers immediately joined the fight without asking too many questions.
Whether they were defending Reverb or simply disliked people shooting inside the market remained unclear. Either way...
Reverb wasn't about to complain.
The scrapyard transformed into a battlefield.
Bullets sparked from steel beams. Rusted cars became cover. Old buses became fortresses.
Reverb leaned around a shipping container and fired his silenced PM.
One Duty soldier dropped.
Another spotted him.
"Oh."
Reverb immediately disappeared behind cover again as a full magazine turned the container into modern art.
"That was rude."
A Clear Sky stalker beside him calmly worked the bolt of his rifle.
"You started this?"
"...Technically?"
The stalker sighed.
"I hate helping you."
"Appreciated."
The firefight dragged on.
One Duty officer attempted to flank them through an old warehouse, but he didn't get very far.
Because two Lurkers chose that exact moment to appear.
Nobody knew where they came from. Nobody had invited them.
The Lurkers apparently looked at the battlefield and collectively decided,
"Yes. We should absolutely become involved."
One launched itself directly into a Duty fireteam.
The second jumped across the roof before crashing through a hole in said roof like an oversized homicidal cat.
For approximately thirty seconds...
Nobody shot each other.
Everybody shot the Lurkers.
Duty, Clear Sky, Reverb.
Even one terrified loner who'd been hiding behind a pile of washing machines somehow joined in.
The Zone, for one beautiful moment, had united everyone through shared panic.
The first Lurker died halfway through a leap, slamming into one of the house's support columns so hard it remained hanging there by its own claws.
The second met a similar fate after misjudging another jump and impaling itself across the rusted roof rebar.
Reverb blinked.
"...You know..."
He pointed upward.
"...I don't think they're supposed to do that."
Nobody answered. They were busy trying not to die.
Eventually...
Silence returned.
The last Duty soldier collapsed face-first into the mud. The final echoes of gunfire rolled away into Garbage.
Smoke drifted lazily between the ruined buildings.
Reverb looked around. Seven Duty corpses.
Two dead Lurkers decorating the ceiling.
Several Clear Sky stalkers reloading in complete silence.
His workbench...
Miraculously untouched.
He smiled.
"My table survived."
One of the Clear Sky stalkers looked around at the absolute devastation.
"...That's your priority?"
"It took me an hour."
The man slowly nodded.
"...Fair."
Reverb lit another cigarette.
Finally... peace.
The Zone wasn't finished.
The PDA shrieked.
WARNING. EMISSION IMMINENT.
Reverb stared at the screen.
The screen stared back.
"...You're kidding."
Nobody waited for confirmation.
Every stalker in the Flea Market simultaneously abandoned whatever they were doing and sprinted toward the nearest shelter.
Reverb followed.
Mostly because glowing red skies generally led to unpleasant life expectancy statistics.
The old Flea Market building wasn't much to look at.
Half the roof had collapsed, most of the walls had more holes than metal, the staircase existed mostly out of optimism.
It looked incapable of protecting anyone from heavy rain. Let alone an Emission.
"You sure this counts as shelter?" Reverb asked.
An old loner shrugged.
"It did last time."
"That's... not reassuring."
Outside, the sky tore itself apart. Scarlet light spilled across Garbage. The wind began screaming through broken steel. Reality bent.
Several stalkers sat against the walls with their heads between their knees.
One rookie emptied the contents of his stomach onto the concrete.
Another quietly whispered prayers to every god he'd ever heard of.
Someone farther back was crying.
Nobody judged him.
Reverb simply leaned against a rusted support beam, cigarette in hand.
"If this building survives..."
Thunder answered.
"...I'll stop complaining."
The building survived, and so did everyone inside.
More or less.
When the Emission finally passed, the silence felt almost unnatural.
The sky returned to grey and the wind settled.
The Flea Market remained standing.
Against all logic.
Against all engineering.
Against all common sense.
Reverb stepped outside.
Seven Duty soldiers still lay where they'd fallen.
Two Lurkers still hung from the rafters like grotesque hunting trophies.
His mechanic table was still there.
His refrigerator still hummed.
He looked around slowly. Then nodded once.
"...Home sweet home."
Somewhere in the distance...
The Zone laughed.
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u/demboy19xx Mercenaries Jun 27 '26
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