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  1. My name… My name is Yuriy, Yuriy Chevonsk, the oldest son of Viktor and Svetlana Chevonsk. I was born on the second of august in the former USSR, in the city of Krasnoyarsk, Siberia. As I sit in this abandoned flat on the outskirts of Chernogorsk, staring at the flames rising out of a barrel I dragged in off the street, I wonder how I ended up here. In this hellhole of a country, with zombies (honest to God zombies!) shuffling in the streets. The only sound apart from the constant moaning of the rotting cadavers are the gunshots that break the eerie silence every once in a while. I know better than to seek them out; the poor fucks who fired the shots. Either the gunshots continue, and I don’t want to run into anyone with that much ammo to spare, or the screaming starts soon after, and after it stops… Well, I am pretty sure there is no one left to find. I clutch my fireman’s axe tighter. It’s a quite interesting tale of how I got here. My father was in the upper echelons of the communist party. He was a very important man in Krasnoyarsk, a head safety officer for the city’s aluminium industry complex. My mother was a housewife, a beautiful woman. She was a daughter of a fairly rich family that sided with the Bolsheviks way back during the Revolution. Aside from me they had three more sons; the twins, Vladislav and Vladimir, and Artyom, my baby brother… I wonder where he is now? Was he able to survive in this hell on Earth that is Chernarus, the ninth circle that is South Zagoria? Anyway, my father wanted the best for his children, so all of us brothers got a good education. We lived the high life our father thought was fitting and that our mother demanded, but then our mother died. In 1982., just as I was nearing my sixteenth birthday. She got shot when a group of anti-communist degenerates attacked an event my parents attended. It devastated our family. Father dived into his work and the occasional bottle of vodka, the twins found comfort in each other, Arty took it the worst as he was mother’s baby boy whom she spent the most time with and whom she dotted on endlessly, and I tried to take care of my brothers. I thought it my duty as the oldest, at least until father finished grieving. But father never recovered. Arty was always a shy, introverted kid, but after mother’s death he completely shut down and retreated inside his shell. The twins where often out, in bad company and slowly succumbing to the Western influences, to their sickness and perversions. But I only found out about it later, why too late. I left and joined the military when I turned 18, wanting to serve the party like my father. Father pulled some strings and got me into the navy, getting me stationed in Vladivostok. I loved it there; I excelled in every area and got along with other soldiers in my class as well as the officers. My abilities and fast developing connections earned me an easy spot in the officer course. Only a year after I left, I heard from my father. Vladimir got shot. He got involved with some dissidents and got shot in the confusion when the police conducted a raid. Our family decide to move after that. Father couldn’t stand to live in the city that took his wife and now his son. When he requested a transfer he got a job as the head of security at Chernobyl Power Plant. Vladislav was furious to say the least. It didn’t surprise me when he soon left for Kiev to continue his education, studying English, nor when he left for England after the USSR collapsed. What did surprise me was that father allowed him to leave for Kiev, but after all that has happened… Disaster fell upon our family once more when an accident occurred at the Chernobyl Power Plant. Father died from radiation and I requested a transfer to the Novorossysk where I got an apartment for me and Artyom. I wouldn’t say I felt nothing as they lowered the casket with my father’s body into the ground, but this was the third time I buried a family member. To say I wasn’t starting to feel a certain numbness would be a huge lie. Vladislav never showed up for the funeral. With the Chevonsk family now being just me and Artyom I wanted to do good by my little brother. I worked tirelessly to expand my military connections and get myself as high a rank as I could. Four years if service, combined with my efforts and my father’s old connections got me to the top of the warrant officer ranks and just a step away from junior lieutenant. But I realized it wouldn’t be enough. To get Artyom into a military school I would need a lot more pull and a lot more money, considering the turbulent times my country was going through. An opportunity to get both presented itself to me in the form of captain Mikhailovich. He and a few other officers were smuggling all kinds of equipment out of the base and selling it on the black market. I took up his offer to join their group. Two years with them got me a lot of cash and a commission as a lieutenant. Getting Artyom into the Moscow Higher Military Command School was easy at that point. Life was good at that point. My career looked bright, I had plenty of money to spare and I set my brother on a solid path to success. Those two years were the happiest years of my life up to that point, apart from those of my early childhood. I even had plans to marry a girl I’ve been dating at the time, though her name escapes me now. And then, in the year 1991. the Soviet Union collapsed. Artyom dropped out of school for reasons unknown to me to this day, and while I was dealing with that the Federal Service agents came knocking. The trial was pretty cut and dry; I was guilty, clear as day. While I thankfully avoided a death penalty, 25 years in prison was still no light sentence. And let me tell you, my time in prison was the worst part of my life. Or at least it was. The horror show that’s happening across the countryside is sure to take that spot. I spent five years in jail, trying to avoid trouble, to survive. But trouble always finds you, as I soon learned. A week in and I already killed another prisoner. Why? I honestly don’t remember. Did he try and rape me? Maybe I looked at him wrong? Did he have a reason to attack me in the first place? He wasn’t the last one anyway. Artyom used to visit me, quite often in fact. Four years in he tells me he wants me to help him get into the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. Me telling him that I can’t help him from behind bars just got him to try and repeal my sentence. It wouldn’t work of course, I just sad that to get him to give up on such a stupid thing. What my brother’s efforts did achieve though, was to get the federal agents to pay me a visit. They would get me out, but in return they had a job for me to do. You better believe I said yes as soon as they closed their mouths. Before they took me in for training I helped out Artyom with his request, getting him access to the Zone, a gun and some supplies. Even though I believed I would never see him again, I kept my word. A year of training and a new identity saw me arrive in Chernarus at Mirosalvl International Airport from which I made my way to South Zagoria. I settled in Chernogorsk where I started up a security agency with the money the Feds gave me. The economy in Chernarus was booming and solid security was sorely lacking. Chernogorsk was a center of industry in South Zagoria, and South Zagoria was the place I was to keep an eye on. Of courser I wasn’t by myself. Ana Kovac, a federal agent, was my partner, minder and, to everyone else, my wife. For the next two decades I built a life for myself here in Chernarus. My business has done extremely well, with my firm holding a monopoly on providing private security in Chernogorsk and several smaller branches throughout South Zagoria. Though our relationship was strictly professional, me and Ana ended up getting quite close and marrying; for real this time. We never managed to have a child, but apart from that and an occasional report I had to send back, I lived a normal life. A good life. Until the Pandora’s Box got opened wide. Ana died while we were trying to escape our apartment complex. What was I thinking when I got us a penthouse suite? Zombies grabbed her while we ran down the stairs. A horde just burst out the door as we were passing by the second floor. I couldn’t help her. There were too many and I had only so many bullets for my Makarov IJ70. Somehow managing to escape, I scavenged the town for supplies, trying to survive. But for what? What did I have to live for? Artyom. I remembered a report I got. The Feds decided to do me a solid for the years of service, keeping an eye on Artyom for me. I heard about him getting married and having a kid, my little niece Svetlana. Even though I could never meet her, I did manage get my hands on some pictures. Taken secretly of course. When I heard that she died in an accident along with her mother… The curse of our family to lose those closest to us aside, I heard that Artyom crossed the border into Chernarus illegally, roaming around the South Zagoria. Maybe… maybe I can find him. Find my little brother. He’s all I have left in this crazy world. My mind set, I add another log to the fire and tuck myself into a corner of the room furthest from the door. I will get some sleep, and tomorrow… Tomorrow I head North.