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Nikolai B.

Fedor Ivanovich Rubanenko (F. Rubanenko [ZZ])

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Fedor Ivanovich Rubanenko is the son of Olga and Ivan Rubanenko.

They were a family of farmers that resided in Kozlovka. Together with Fedor’s 5 young siblings, they nourished their land. By their local standards, they were considered prosperous. As prosperous as a farmer family in Chernarus can get.

Fedor was not a farmer at heart. He always longed for more adventurous things. He had another family. They were a group of old friends. Childhood friends. Brothers, so to speak. He spent most of his time with them, rather than on the farm with his real family.

When they were kids, they used to make “guns” out of sticks and play make-believe war.

When the war broke out the boys were already men. Strong, fit, aggressive and armed with real guns.

After the first week of the war, Fedor understood better than ever, why he needed his friends more than ever. The family farm was raided and the family killed, the farm burned.

To this day, he did not forgive himself for not being there when it happened. In his mind, he alone could stop the raiders and save his kin from such fates. Fedor grieved for a long time, and blamed himself for a long time. In fact, he probably still blames himself to this day.

Now Fedor had only one family left, and he knew that this was the path to vengeance, as well as to redemption. Others in the group, having lost loved ones already, were on the warpath. The Zagorian Sorrows were formed.

The Sorrows acted as a guerrilla units, striking at foreign assets opportunistically. During one of the operations, Fedor was wounded and perceived dead by his comrades. The situation was dire, and he was left in the field and taken prisoner in the morning after, when the enemy found him in a pool of his own blood, in a warehouse, barely breathing.

Captivity was the worst thing Fedor experienced. He much preferred to be left in his little pool of blood at the Kamyshovo docks. He had lost track of time and geography. He was constantly being moved, poked, prodded, examined, electrocuted and beaten. He was certain he would die any given moment - every day.

It was the war that saved him. The base he was held in eventually came under attack and was being captured. During the battle, Fedor managed to make use of the confusion and chaos and generally poor visibility conditions around him, and escaped.

Failing to track down his old comrades, he had assumed them dead.

Fedor joined NAPA towards the end of it all. He had nowhere else to go. He was put in a squad with a bunch of poorly trained teenagers.

On a dark night with no moon, the “men” lay in ambush. They were prepared to strike at their foes hard and fast, leaving none alive. They were too young, too passionate, too hasty. One might even say - down right uncalculated and foolish. The patrol that was approaching as intel suggested it would, they realized a horrible truth: The patrol had dogs.

“Why the hell do they have dogs? Nobody told us there would be god-damned, mother-hugging dogs!”

It was too late. their scent was caught. The dogs became alerted, and subsequently, so have the men behind them. The entire squad was captured, most of them executed. The rest were put on a plane, destination - unknown. During the flight, something happened in the cockpit. Fedor was not sure what, and he is unsure to this day, as his memory from around the time of the crash was... missing.

Fedor woke up on the shore, amazingly, in one piece.

Free, but completely alone, he headed to the one place he knew he could rest at - Kozlovka.

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