After a few hours of non-stop hiking, hiding, and sprinting short distances away from wild dogs, Tiberius made it into the Yantar area in a single piece. The first hurdle of getting in done, he now began preparations for the bothersome and slow process of getting through all those pesky Stalkers that were too greedy for their own good and got themselves zombified. Or to an astronomical level of ineptitude that makes Forest Gump look like a genius and a track star. One of the two. Tiberius hadn't the time to ponder it for money and alcohol were calling his name.

He surveyed the immediate area carefully, and finding a sizable tree that still had most of its leaves, he scaled it and perched himself near the top, his back braced against the trunk and his SVD resting in his lap. Extracting his binoculars, Tiberius carefully panned across the area between himself and the Yantar mobile lab, memorizing every zombified Stalker's location and movement patterns. Satisfied that he'd spotted them all, numbering 17 in total, he began to dispatch them one by one. Aim. Inhale. Finger on the trigger. Compensate. Squeeze. Exhale. Revel in the gore. Charge piece. Rinse and repeat. He downed most of them in this manner, taking a few nicks from the erratic firing of the zombies that had working guns. He was then interrupted quite rudely by an angry military patrol that didn't seem to like his being in Yantar. Tiberius might have been able to talk his way out had he not yelled, "Перейти подальше Вам мутантные чертовски сук!" They took particular offense to that.

Tiberius tagged one of them near instantly, the unfortunate man's brains exploding out the back of his helmet. The remaining four opened fire immediately afterwards and caused him to nearly fall out of the tree and break his neck. This was not his preferred mode of combat. The enemy could actually [i]see[/i] him and posed a real threat.

Once they paused to reload, Tiberius drew his knock-off, Soviet-made Colt 1911, emptied the magazine into the patrol, hitting one in the knee and knocking off another's helmet, then kept out of the tree and ran his ass off to get behind the protective walls surrounding the lab. On his way there, gunfire from the few remaining zombies and the now reloaded patrol peppered the area around him. Once at the door, he beat on it and yelled at the scientists to open it in Norwegian, Russian, and English, hoping they were there, before taking cover behind the walls and getting ready for a shitty situation. He leaned out and tagged a second enemy in the chest and quickly took cover again, mumbling "Damn, I picked the wrong day to leave the hideout."