Escape from Tarkov

Scav Missed Connections Post

Content of the article: "Scav Missed Connections Post"

You were the most tenderhearted soul I ever met. I'm sorry that, in the end, I failed you. I hope you made it out alive.

When we ran into each other on Shoreline, I was hesitant. Afraid. We saw each other at the same time, and we wiggle-wiggled. Despite our friendly wiggling, we were both ADSing, and side strafing behind cover. But nobody shot. We just kept wiggling. I chanced the opportunity to stand still in the open. You did the same. I waved hello. You waved back. I ran up excitedly, shaking my head up and down in approval. You jumped and spun around in a circle, discarding a very nice raven statue from your pack. I threw some meds down for you. We ran on excitedly, moving into a two-story house with some very nice safes. I found a lion statue. I called you over and threw it down in front of you. You stared at it, then back at me, then back at the lion. You shook your head no. I insisted. You tried, yet again, to decline, but I backed away and flipped you off. You were going to have that statue, damnit. And you took it, though the reluctance in which you did made my soul sing with joy. Truly I had found a friend. We moved downstairs, our hearts happy and our army bags full. And that's when the trouble began.

We heard players. And they heard us, walking on the wood floors. Dirty dirty USEC operators. They cussed us out, the damned foreigners, in their sly and manipulative language. We shouted back, holed down in our room. If they wanted us, they had to come get us. I took the main door. You ran upstairs for a vantage point, as you had a scoped hunting rifle. You started raining bullets down; accurate, precision fire. I could hear the pained shouts of the operators with every shot. Heavy footsteps. They tried to get under the window, out of your angle of fire. A USEC gook ran around to the front door – I blasted him, and he collapsed in a heap. The only trip home that boy will be taking is in a body bag.

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In the process of killing the one, I enraged the other. Rapid M4 fire shredded the wall I was next to, and I dove for cover. Blind suppression fire, from a cowardly USEC player who could barely see straight through the tears in his eyes. I could wait it out. The fire stopped, but then I heard another gunshot, from a third party. I chanced a peek around a window and saw muzzle flashes. I fired. No sooner had the shot gone off then all around me I heard a cacophony of angry scav voices, and I realized my error: In the fog of war, I had shot a friendly AI Scav. More bullets pelted my location, far too rapid a response to be from mere normal scavs. A glance outside realized to me that Sanitar and his goons were nearby – great.
More things happened then, and it all happened so quickly that I can't recount much of it. At this point, what I recall though was that I ran to another window and saw a scav facing away from me, engaging the second USEC operator. I lined up the shot, and he dropped like a ragdoll. .366 FMJ to the side of the head usually has that effect. I had little time to celebrate my kill, however, as a slurred blyat cyka was followed by the dreaded clink-dink of a grenade. I bolted into another room, right as the place I was once standing erupted into a cloud of deadly shrapnel.

I peered around the corner, as one of Sanitar's lackeys tried to rush my position. By the power of stupid blind luck, I landed a shot right between the eyes, on the one part of his body that wasn't covered with Class 4 armor. He fell without a word, and I heard Sanitar curse me, my parents, my sister's boyfriend, and my dead dog. Another grenade – this time I saw it – flew towards me. It landed on the porch, near where the first USEC fucker had drawn his last. I dropped behind a couch. My whole world shook as the grenade went off – far too close for comfort – yet I somehow remained unscathed. My luck was holding out so far, it seemed.

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I leaned out a window and fired into the bushes. Bang, bang, bang… and then a hollow click. I had to reload. As my magazine dropped to the floor, I sprinted across the room to the front door. I needed to put some sort of barrier between myself and the thicc bois outside. A plywood door is not the best of defenses, but with the way Sanitar was chucking grenades out like someone hiding easter eggs, it would do. I slammed the door shut and retreated up the stairs briefly to check on my friend. He was bandaging up. I could see a few splatters of blood on the walls, and I knew he was having a tough time. I tossed some meds on the ground, he quickly shook his head. I snatched them back up and ran downstairs to hold the main floor.

I crouched behind cover, with a beautiful vantage point of the one way in or out of the building. The gunshots were incessant. Angry scavs were swarming the building like something out of DayZ. Grenades were being thrown left, right, and center. The USEC operator was still out there somewhere, and I could hear the rapid shots of his M4, and occasionally the agonized scream of a dying scav. I kept my eyes on the door. And, then, my luck ran out.

The cruel lord Nikita himself frowned upon me. He is the one who holds the true keys of power in Tarkov. It is he who balances the scales of justice. And he, in his infinitely unknowable knowledge, deemed me unworthy of life. Who was I to deny his wrath?

Sanitar's other goon clipped through the doorway.

I knew TerraGroup was working on some super-secret squirrelly shit over in Tarkov, but I didn't think the ability to phaseshift was one of them. But nevertheless… one of the Proktolog boys materialized behind my closed door. And Proktolog was here to give me my proctology – free of charge. I blasted him, and he ate two shots to the face with no visor. I knew my time had come. With an angry shout, his AK74 tore my body to swiss cheese. I coughed, sputtered – blood coming out of my mouth – and my vision tunneled and faded into darkness. I had died.

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Dear friend out there – I do not know who you are. I do not know if you will ever read this. But if you do – remember me. You were a light, a beacon, a paragon of virtue, in the depraved region of Tarkov. I died that day not defending my own life, but trying to protect yours. I hope my sacrifice was worth it, and you were able to make it out alive with that sweet, sweet loot. If you're out there somewhere and would like to brave the wasteland again, DM me and let's fight sometime.


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