Bratva: Some things never change

Chapter 1: The unwanted chance

The situation in the Norvinsk region remains tense. After the evacuation of civilians, marauder gangs have taken over the besieged territories. Meanwhile, Private Military Companies (PMCs) have started their operations in the Tarkov area.

Among them is the Western PMC, representing the interests of the Terra Group corporation. According to some information, there is also a Russian private military company known as BEAR. However, the presence of the latter in this troubled region is yet to be confirmed by Russian official authorities.

Skif's Raid Group: Four Hours Before Tarkov Infiltration
"So, comrades, we are departing at 2330." In a dimly lit hangar, mercenaries from the BEAR organization were seen preparing their gear for their mission, while their squad leader, whom had blond hair and a fairly built body, briefed them on the situation.

"And you're packing all-in, full loadout. Our little trip might take a while," he continued, his voice echoing off the steel walls.

"Chief," another man, holding a modernized AK-104, spoke up, "why can't we just clear out this damned Tarkov?"

The commandant sighed, "Okay, let me make this clear for the intellectually challenged: this local conflict between the Kremlin and Terra Group is not a reason for a full-scale army operation on our territory." He glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of each of his men.

 "Again, at 2350 sharp, the chopper is taking off to Tarkov."

He walked toward the area where his men were seated. "I repeat: no civilians in the sealed-off territories. Only scavengers and touring PMCs."

"Commander, when is this bullshit in Tarkov gonna be over?" asked one of the men as he stashed his rifle beside his backpack. "Everyone knows who's responsible for this mess."
"For now, everyone believes the Terra Group is a bunch of harmless creatures. They're combating hunger in Kenya and creating cutting-edge technologies," the commandant replied, sarcasm dripping from his words.

As the commandant was about to say more, another man in the group spoke up. It was his younger brother, Captain Burov'. "So why don't we declare the investigation's results? I mean, about what these creeps do in real life."

The commandant, Alexander, looked at his brother with a mix of worry and pride, fear gripping his heart as always on his first operation as a unofficial PMC. "Because the whole world needs hard evidence. And we don't have it hard enough yet," he replied, sighing.

"Fucking politics," Burov' huffed, stuffing magazines into his gear.

Time passed, and the group began to relax, sharing jokes and laughter, trying to enjoy the calm before the storm. Alexander took Burov' aside, speaking to him quietly. But before he could say a word, Burov' interrupted, "I don't need another briefing about the danger. I'm a BEAR PMC for god sake! First mission, or a bunch of others isn't much of a difference."

Alexander looked his brother's in the eyes, then sighed. "I'm not here to talk about that. I just want to remind you that problems at home need to stay behind closed doors."

Burov' relaxed a bit, replying, "Yeah, I know. But you also said that one would come back if he had a place to come back to."

Alexander smiled slightly, it was kind of funny for the commander, especially when your own little brother sometimes surpasses you in life, compared to the stagnant, and sinful life of his. "You have some time before lift-off. But now you have to decide: where will you stay?"

Burov' looked around, taking in the laughter and camaraderie of his fellow soldiers. He may not have been there with them long enough, but he took a liking to what he loves to call 'lovely bastards'. He sighed, "There's nothing to decide on."