10/07/2027 – 10/10/2027 - MAHLWINKEL AIRFIELD

OP Chernobyl Freedom

Freedom

Freedom represents a radical idea: The Zone belongs to everyone.

If you join them, you're not fighting for power or profit – but for access to knowledge, artifacts, and the opportunities the Zone offers. Against oppression, against secrecy, for an open future.

Freedom for the Zone – Fight for an open future

The Freedom faction derived its name from its shared, deeply held core belief: "Freedom for the Zone!"

The anarchically inclined group has only one goal: to make the wonders and achievements of the Zone accessible and usable for humanity. They firmly believe in the open-source concept and see new opportunities for societal development in the conditions created by the power plant accident.

Naturally, their idealism makes them direct adversaries of the military, which, acting on behalf of the state, tries to cover up and confiscate as much as possible.

In the past, valuable artifacts and samples have already been smuggled out of the Zone for civilian research. Under their commander, Hans Reinsch, Freedom is determined to put a stop to the military and its machinery of oppression.

Freedom fighters traditionally work well with stalkers, as mutually beneficial deals often come about. Hans and Nostromus also appear to be old drinking buddies from wartime.

Prologue

Six months ago, Neptune conference room, Brezhnev Barracks, Chernobyl

Captain Morozov points his finger at a map of Chernobyl. "Intruders have been sighted here, here, and there over the last few days. Since they have all managed to escape so far, the patrol routes will be changed as follows..."

Like most of the group members in the conference room, Junior Sergeant Noah Weissenfels' thoughts are wandering. Not much of his patriotism has remained since he volunteered for service in the Zone with the military. Rather, his doubts about whether he is truly serving his fatherland here have grown with every mission.

"We are sent on a manhunt every day, and at night, the faces of those we have captured and executed appear to me. I do not want to understand why we are slaughtering our own countrymen like this. Most of them are traveling alone and poorly equipped. The government is hiding something. Nothing is to leave the Zone, and no one is to report what there is to discover here."

A tug on his shoulder brings Junior Sergeant Weissenfels back to the conference room. Rifleman Tito winks at him. "Wake up, my friend. Morozov has finished his lecture and ordered us to move out." A few minutes later, the patrol leaves the barracks compound.

The patrol has been roaming through the thicket in silence for hours, watching their surroundings attentively. Captain Morozov raises his hand and gives the signal to halt. Not far away in a ruined building, the patrol leader has spotted a group of hooded stalkers. Silently, Junior Sergeant Weissenfels fans out with the rest of the group and secures the area around the ruins. When three stalkers leave the building with a crate, a short whistle sounds. Seconds later, they are surrounded and staring into numerous rifle barrels. "Please, don't shoot," pleads one of the hooded figures. "We are unarmed." Morozov steps forward and takes documents from the crate. "PSI-waves and their effects on the human psyche." With a contemptuous gesture, he throws the documents into the face of the stalker's spokesman, who immediately drops to the ground and hastily gathers the papers. "No! This knowledge can help many people!" Morozov turns away and orders expressionlessly: "Shoot them all. And then burn this rubbish." ...but seconds later, not a single shot has been fired. Furiously, Morozov spins around. "How dare you, you are supposed to shoot them!" Junior Sergeant Weissenfels has positioned himself in front of the stalkers and speaks in a trembling voice: "No! The Zone is good; the knowledge hidden here must be made public! We can create something better than all of this!" The patrol members look at each other questioningly at first, then one by one they lower their rifles. With a face bright red, Morozov draws his revolver and aims it at Weissenfels' temple. "I have to do everything myself around here!" A loud crack echoes through the forest. A moment later, Morozov's body collapses lifelessly. A thin wisp of smoke escapes from the muzzle of Tito's carbine. "For our freedom! For the freedom of knowledge! For the freedom of Chernobyl!!!"

"Quiet upheaval at the border? Whistleblower reports shift in power within the zone"

In the shadow of the ruins, a shift is apparently taking place that could have far-reaching consequences—not only for the autonomous movement in the Zone, but also for the fragile status quo along the western corridor. An insider from the ranks of "Freedom" has provided our reporter with the first indications of an internal leadership change—though without naming names. Not yet. 

"It's no longer the old man calling the shots," the whistleblower explains in an encrypted message to our editorial team. "The withdrawal didn't come as a surprise, but it was carried out with striking silence. No vote, no explanations. Just someone else now pulling the strings." 

The Freedom faction, loosely organized and not officially recognized as a paramilitary unit, has been operating in the Zone for years. They are considered one of the few groups that actively act against both state influence and external exploitation of the Zone—with their own rules, a decentralized structure, and high internal loyalty. 

But it is precisely this loyalty, according to the whistleblower, that is now being put to the test: 

"He [the successor, Ed. note] isn't a loudmouth. Not a flag-bearer. He doesn't put himself above the movement, but he is now at the center—whether he likes it or not." 

When asked, the source explained that the decision had been made days ago. The previous leader, one of the key figures in the movement's formation, had withdrawn for personal reasons and due to a growing distrust of the increasing cult of personality. 

The successor? According to the source, a veteran with many years of field experience, known for pragmatic decisions and a strong aversion to hierarchies. 

"He never asked for power—and that is exactly the reason why people are following him now. He wears no rank insignia, but everyone knows where he stands." 

Who exactly this new coordinator is, the source would not or could not say. Not yet. For "security reasons," they intend to release further details in the coming days—provided they remain anonymous and untraceable.  

What does this leadership change mean for the fragile situation in the Zone? While state authorities provided no comment to our editorial team, internal circles are looking at the development with increasing nervousness. An official from the internal security council (anonymous) put it this way: 

"A leader who wants no title is often more dangerous than ten who demand one." 

Editorial comment: If this change of power is confirmed, it could be the beginning of a new phase in the Zone—less heroic, but more strategic. And perhaps quieter, but no less determined. 

Yet just at the moment when clarity became tangible, silence struck again: Our source—the whistleblower—was found dead just hours after the last contact. Officially, the incident is considered an "unexplained incident" at an abandoned outpost near settlement D-4. Unofficially, however, indications of a targeted assassination are mounting. 

Did they know too much—or want to say too much? 

The crucial clue: Their last encrypted messages suggest that they deposited copies of the internal documents at a location in the Zone. Possibly as insurance—or in the hope that someone finds them when they no longer can. 

"If you are reading this, I may already be silent. But my notes are not." – Excerpt from the final transmission 

The search for these documents has begun—and with it, the race for the truth. Between factions, opportunists, and those who would rather leave everything unsaid. 

Because sometimes the difference between legend and lie lies in a backpack that no one has found yet. 

Freedom

Dress code

Uniform in 5-color Flecktarn.

Plate carriers and other equipment in Flecktarn or Olive.

Armament

To the weapons list

Commander Noah Weissenfels

Personal Records – K. Kessler 

Below, I have compiled my findings to date regarding the “New Guy” for publication. Attempts to get in touch with the inner circle remained largely unsuccessful. Nevertheless, P. managed to gain access to the internal cell file and attend N.W.’s personal briefing—both fruitful sources. A clearer picture is gradually emerging. One thing is certain: with the new guy, changes are imminent: 

Name: Noah Weißenfels 

Age: Mid-to-late 30s 

Origin: Southern Germany  

Faction: Freedom – potentially leader of the operational cells 

Status: Veteran of the Zone, successor to Hans Reinsch? 
Get your tickets now!

Noah Weißenfels and Hans Reinsch had known each other long before the Zone – from a world in which both of them rebelled against the increasing control by the state and institutions. Their paths did not cross due to political calculation or ideological consensus, but rather because of a shared stance: a deeply rooted mistrust of systems that degrade people into mere functionaries, into replaceable cogs. It was not a friendship in the classical sense, but a silent understanding between two contrarians who refused to submit to the logic of command and obedience. 

Reinsch was the first to escape the control and flee into the Zone – a pioneer in search of a place beyond the state's reach. Weißenfels, on the other hand, initially stayed. He was no dreamer, but a man of action. Weißenfels used his time underground to actively resist: he helped people disappear, organized covert networks for smuggling supplies, and offered protection to whistleblowers. In time, however, he too became a target. Surveillance grew denser, the room for maneuver narrowed – until, for Weißenfels as well, the Zone became the final refuge: a space where no government is omnipotent, where decisions are not dictated, but must be made by oneself. 

The bond between Weißenfels and Reinsch was never one-sided or sentimental. They did not revere one another – they challenged each other. Reinsch was the passionate idealist, shaped by grand ideas and a deep belief in the potential of freedom. Weißenfels was the more sober of the two – a pragmatist who knew that every system, even a free one, is susceptible to the abuse of power. Worlds often lay between them, yet it was precisely their differences that fostered respect – and ultimately, loyalty. 

For Weißenfels, Reinsch was not a hero, but a comrade-in-arms – a man with whom one could argue without losing sight of the common goal. Should Reinsch step down one day, Weißenfels would not just be his successor, but would continue to develop the legacy – adapting it to reality as it is, not as one would like it to be. 

He does not seem to believe in grand theories or abstract utopias – for him, freedom always begins with the individual, with the very personal decision not to obey. Despite his experience in dozens of firefights, he is no friend of senseless violence; he often says: “Every bullet is a missed opportunity to choose.” This thought is also reflected in his way of leading. Weißenfels is not a leader who shouts orders – he is a coordinator who creates structures in which people can decide for themselves. His philosophy is clear: “If you have to force someone to follow you, you have already lost.” He encounters dogmas with deep mistrust – even within his own ranks. He tolerates no devotion to ideology, no rigid tenets. For him, the rule is: freedom must never become a religion – otherwise, it loses exactly what defines it.  

Weißenfels does not seem to want to rule the Zone – he wants to preserve it. For everyone who consciously chooses against existing systems. For those who can no longer find a place in the world out there – seekers, failures, the uprooted. For him, the Zone is a retreat of choice – a place where a person can truly choose who they are and how they want to live. 

He does not fight for chaos, but for the possibility of choice. Whether someone wants to live as a quiet farmer in the South Settlement, as a risk-taking artifact hunter, as a hermit in the Red Forest, or as a researcher in the depths of the anomalies – that is their decision, not his. Weißenfels ensures that this decision remains possible – against every form of coercion, every uniform, every ideology. 

Symbols do not interest him. Neither do slogans. For Noah, only what people do counts – not what they claim to believe. 

 

In short: Noah Weißenfels stands for an unromantic but uncompromising idea of freedom. One that is uncomfortable. One that is demanding. But also one that can survive. 

07/07/2025  

K. Kessler 

INTERNAL DOCUMENT – FREEDOM CELL N/W – COORDINATION  

Appendix A: Personal Note – N. Weißenfels 

“I was never good at speeches. Hans could do that. I preferred to stay silent, watch, and then act. But I have learned one thing: 

It is not enough to just be against oppression. You also have to ensure that people are allowed to choose – without fear, without lies, without a gun at their back. 

If we lose this place, we don't just lose a few square kilometers of contaminated earth. We lose the last place where a human is still allowed to say 'no'. 

 

N. Weißenfels 

FREEDOM IS NOT A SLOGAN. 

FREEDOM IS THE EFFORT OF DECIDING ANEW EVERY SINGLE DAY. 

 

For internal use only! 

Destroy immediately. No digital backup, no sharing with outsiders. Content is revised regularly – for good reason. 

Epilogue

Commander Mikhail Kulik eyes the arrival of Noah Weissenfels in front of the customs house with suspicion. As agreed, he, like his bodyguard Maverizski, has only five armed men with him. During their last meeting, the leader of the Freedom faction had tried to set a trap for him with a Ural truck. But who can blame Weissenfels for deserting a few months ago? Captain Morozov was a sadist, and deep down, even Mikhail Kulik is glad that Weissenfels took him out back then. Regardless, this is the first attempt between the Military and Freedom to find a mutually agreeable solution regarding the experimental weapon. Who knows if it even works, or how?

Suddenly, the door of the customs house swings open and a bearded scientist in an orange hazmat suit steps out. "Well, well, so you're here. And do you have the parts with you?"

Weissenfels beckons Abu Nossi, who is carrying a wooden crate under his arm. Mikhail Kulik nods briefly, and Vasili steps forward with a silver briefcase.

"So, so," the scientist chuckles. "So you want me to assemble the device for you? Very well, I will do it—but no weapons in my lab, they make me nervous!"

Abu Nossi and Vasili hand their weapons to their comrades and disappear into the building. Silence... Mikhail Kulik's and Weissenfels's men watch the surroundings vigilantly... alert for any suspicious movement. Suddenly, tires screech behind the customs house!!!

Mikhail Kulik and Weissenfels rush into the building. In one room, Abu Nossi and Vasili lie unconscious on the floor with lacerations on the back of their heads. Next to them are an empty crate and an empty briefcase. "What the hell..." Kulik hisses, "I should have known that a deserter couldn't be trusted. Once a traitor, always a traitor!" Weissenfels shoves Kulik in the chest. "How dare you! You took the weapon for yourself to keep it all alone! I'm finished with you!" He calls for his right-hand man, Martini, who shoulders the unconscious Abu Nossi. Together, they leave the room.

Kulik shouts after him, his face bright red: "Weissenfels! I will flatten your pathetic camp and hunt down every single one of your men. I will turn over every stone and shoot at anything that isn't wearing my uniform until I hold that weapon in my hands!!!"

Meanwhile, at a secret location.

A stranger enters the room; in the center stands a silver table that shimmers mysteriously in the dimmed light. Strange symbols are fixed to the walls, and indefinable objects covered in runes are scattered on the floor. A man in a black coat steps out of the shadows, his face hidden under a hood. "Do you have what I asked for?" The stranger opens a bag and places various weapon parts on the table. "Here. This is everything we could take from them." The man in the coat mumbles to himself. "Very good, but something is still missing. Listen to me carefully; I have another task for you..." 

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