Name: Victor "Vitya" Lazarevic
Birthplace: Sinistok, Chernarus
Group Affiliation: The Black Veins
Role in Group: Leader (Assumed)
I was born in Chernarus same as most of the people you would find in this country, which is pretty fucking obvious, ano?
My mother died giving birth to me, so as far as I can remember, I grew up underground or outside of mine shafts. My father couldn't afford to take the days off even with a newborn so he made a backpack to fit me in while he worked day in and day out. That was the definition of a man, he never once begged for a break. He didn't expect one and he wasn't going to ask either, not even because he was afraid to lose his job, but because he had the ambition to continue at any cost, something he taught me as I grew up.
By the time I was only twelve years old, the mining supervisor, an Americký by the name of Carl Lane had decided it was time for me to start working alongside by father in the mines. While my father argued I was too young and it was too much of a hazard, the Americký disagreed and I was put on the official workstation roster as a canary. I believe this is what killed my father in the long run, the stress and worry of me dying by going first into the mines to verify their safety.
I was seventeen when my father dislocated his back during a work shift which rendered him permanently unfit to work, this ruined him. He felt that he had failed me, but I reminded him that I would continue his work for him and never abandon it. I saw the pride in his eyes when I said this to him. Though unfortunately, I lost him only a few months later due to an unrelated respiratory disease.
By the time the outbreak had begun, we had no clue. Neither the supervisor nor the foreman had decided to tell us workers anything and just abandoned us. It was late one afternoon as we were moving shipments of coal out and preparing to load them onto the trucks that we realized the trucks were gone. All of us looked at each other in shock and gathered outside to collectively try and deduce the reasoning. Were we being laid off? Were Chedaki troops approaching?
It was almost as if God himself had answered our questions not even a few moments later when a fellow miner suddenly became enraged, his eyes went bloodshot and his hands came up to his face in a shriek of horror as his fingers curled disturbingly to mask his visage. I had felt a cold shiver run down my spine and in my gut I knew something was wrong. I was quick to backpedal towards the mine and I noticed other workers following suite.
Unfortunately, not everyone caught on and as expected, that now "infected" worker began to chase after us. He managed to bite another worker and just like that, it spread. One turned to two, two to four and so on. Those of us that were lucky had ran back into hiding through the little narrow caves we had made while mining. I recall one of the workers being right behind me, I watched him get torn apart by the infected before me. I could actually hear and feel the vibrations from my heartbeat in my ears, any noise fell silent and it felt as if time had slowed.
What was this?
It had been a month now that we had been living in the mines. The other workers were beginning to realize that our rations had run thin and we would need to begin to leave this place behind us at some point. I couldn't disagree with them even if I tried, safety was becoming a distant memory the more time we spent buried alive. We had deduced a plan to gather all the tools and mining supplies that we had in the lockers below, to prepare an assault and escape from the mines.
I grabbed a pickaxe and my father's old backpack. Throwing it over my shoulder before taking several deep breathes to mentally prepare myself for what was to come. One of the older workers told us to be ready to charge out and that we should aim our pickaxes at their heads as it seemed to be the most effective way to kill them almost instantly.
My eyes shifted to my fellow bratři as we knew just based on facial expressions that we shared similar emotions of fear and uncertainty about the plan ahead. Though despite all odds, we gave one another a nod of encouragement before charging for the exit. It became a blood bath, rotten corpses everywhere and as I looked around at the others killing the infected reaching to bite them, I was caught off guard by one of my own. It was the foreman. I rose my pickaxe up in a horizontal manner to block it as I bashed the wooden handle against his throat, causing him to stumble back though it didn't seem to affect him.
After he regained his balance, he made another attempt to charge at me. This time I was prepared and swung my pickaxe in an over the head swing until a disturbing crack was audible as my pick went clean through the top of his head. His body fell limp onto it's knees and lifeless as his head was impaled on the tip of my pickaxe which I quickly wobbled back and forth to let the body drop.
Despite our best efforts, we had lost a few men to the escape. Though with the few dozen of us left, we were fortunate enough to find a military roadblock with several tents, some of the wooden gunracks still stacked with Western and Eastern assault rifles. I had no idea how to use such weapons, so I allowed the other miners to grab them and instead searched one of the fallen CDF soldiers. Pulling out a handgun from his side holster.
We decided that we would return back to the mines, dispose of the bodies and make it our home. We had plenty of building materials and tools to build up reinforced walls that we knew would hold back these infected. Now we had assault rifles to hold back any bandits or troublemakers that came our way as well.
With our new home established fully, we were running at complete capacity. It was just us in these mountains and so the towns at the base of the mountains as well were completely abandoned. It was perfect to go scavenging or hunting, we had stocked our shelves with enough food to at least last us six months.
During one of our scavenging runs, I had set off towards one of the abandoned warehouses (or at the time I thought WAS abandoned) but turned out to be nothing more than a mistake. I once more had my guard lowered due to repetition and being used to the desertion of the towns. I was taken at gunpoint by other survivors, russians. I knew almost immediately that they were not Chernarussians due to their ugly fucking red star berets and patches.
I spat in one of their faces and fought with another, screaming for my bratři's aid. Though I was quickly hit in the back of the head and rendered unconscious. If I told you another hit to the head was what woke me up, would you believe me? I was beaten consistently over and over again. They didn't even want information, they just enjoyed my pain and suffering. I held that rage, and held my tongue as I merely focused on memorizing their faces.
When they were done with me, they threw me into the middle of town and left me to die. Though what they forgot was that I am a chernarussian, I will not die from a little beating. We suffer but we do not die, there is a difference. My struggle to even see which direction I was walking due to how swollen my eyes were was the biggest challenge, though my ears were still working. I shouted for my bratři again, in hopes that they might still be around.
I reached my right hand into my jacket and pulled out my bowie knife, holding my hands out in front of me to guide myself before I suddenly heard footsteps coming to my right. I heard one of the fellow mine workers call out my name before rushing to my rescue, his arm wrapping under my shoulder as he aided me getting back to the mines.
When I returned, I was set on the ground and guarded first and foremost as one of the miners began to tend to my wounds. He dabbed lightly at my face with a damp cloth to clean both fresh and dry blood. The other miners were furious about what had happened and demanded some form of response for what the russians had done.
I was in agreement with them but was told to stay as I was in no condition to fight, and they were right. Despite how badly I wanted to return and gut every single last one of them, I couldn't even see five feet in front of me due to my swollen eyes. Though my bratři assured me that they would take care of this issue. I described to them the location of the warehouse which quite a few of us had been familiar with as we had been in that area scavenging before.
It didn't take more than a few hours before they returned with the red star patches from what I can only imagine the dead russians. They dropped the patches at my feet and saluted me. Telling me that I displayed bravery and strength that none of them had seen before. Thus requesting I be their leader. I accepted.
It was only a few weeks before I had decided that we would go by a group name to remind other survivors when they cross our path. If they are lucky enough to survive their encounters. I realized after the russians that I could not make another risk like that again, I would never allow any outsider to step on us. Thus, to mark claim to our new born family and gang, I created a symbol that we'd all wear with pride.
We were no longer just miners. We were The Black Veins.
We had been now roughly a year into this infection, if not longer. I must admit that we lost count and haven't used a calender to keep track. Though I had made a conscious decision to split the group up so we could take more territory, even it out and create outposts. Perhaps recruit SOME worthy members that we might have seen fit, though I find it unlikely.
We traveled towards South Zegoria to determine what life was like further East. I took only eight men with me, more than enough to travel these lands. We took assault rifles and other spare weaponry that we had laying around at the mines, we could only imagine that the russians near us weren't the only ones in Chernarus after this outbreak.
A man and woman with two children approached us on our ventures east, we hadn't even traveled a few hours before encountering them up in the burnt mountains. I greeted them with a smile before suddenly making an unfortunate discovery. The father was notably russian, he greeted us with his pig latin. I paused and my men immediately took action, as I gave them a look of confirmation.
Child or not, parents or not. I would not let these russians repopulate or breed on our soil, not after what they did to me. My men knew this without me having to explain it to them. I took a few steps back and just stared at the situation before me, my men quick to throw the children down, the parents as well. The parents were pinned on their stomachs as they struggled, wiggling and screaming out in pleads.
My ears had shut off to their begging and I felt no remorse as I watched my men butcher their children with pickaxes and knives. Blood splattered in all directions as they swung, causing it to splatter along my face, I quickly pulled out a scarf from my jacket pocket and wrapped it around my neck and face to prevent any from going into my nose or mouth.
I watched as the parents completely fell limp to the struggles, giving up on everything when they watched their children's corpses turned to piles of butchered meat. I decided to give them a swift death, nodding to my men as I told them to just slit their throats and be done with it as we had a lot of land to cover.
I do not show mercy to my enemies, to strangers or to traitors. If you are not part of the Black Veins, you are not safe. We will kill you or torture you, as this is the only way to assure dominance over others. How else will they know that we are not a group of survivors that can be tormented? We are no longer naive nor ignorant. We are survivors and we will do what we must.
It feels nice to finally be among new land. I believe this will be our new home, we will need to radio back to the others at the mines to inform them to send more men over to assist. We have only been here a few hours and have already scouted quite a few cities, spotting life among South Zegoria. Other survivors, it seems.
I am curious to see what this new land will provide for us, though I pity those we encounter in our path. I overheard quite a bit of Americký chatter, which just reminds me of the Mine Supervisor. I hate Americký. We will not go down gently, this is our land, our home and we will shed their blood to protect our own.
Pro Černé Žíly - For The Black Veins.