No Escape From Tarkov

Chapter 5 - The Hideout

"...Hey... Hey... Wake up, sleepy head~" A voice sweet as honey called out to me, a euphoric song to my sensitive ears.

My eyes fluttered open, a thin smile on my lips. Though the moment I saw who it was, it disappeared.

Right. I'm still in Tarkov.

I didn't even need to look to my right to know who was beside me, or who the driver was.

Yesterday's events came back to me with the force of a truck going well over the speed limit in an urban zone in the process of isekai'ing another shallow protagonist into a world full of bimbos.

The embarrassing wake-up call, the humiliating feeding which I did not agree to nor enjoyed, the moment I almost had my neck ripped off and folded like a piece of paper, then the weird affection session with the older sister, the raid, the rescue-

The car came to a sudden stop, a shadow over us blocking the sun.

I glanced outside the tinted window, we were parked in some sort of garage. However, there were no tools on the walls, only a single door at the back that lead out of it.

"Where are we?" I asked, cracking each individual finger with a hard pop.

"We're here!" The shortest said, opening the door of the car and stepping out.

"Where's here? "

"The hideout, stupid," the driver replied, also existing the car. Thanks for stating the obvious about me, hoe.

I sighed, rubbing my face in circular motions with both hands. I might've woken up, but my brain was still a foot deep in dreamland.

"Are you okay?" The orange asked with genuine concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Just tired..." I stopped the massage, exhaling through my nose.

She hummed, stepping out of the vehicle. I left after her, shutting the door behind me. As I'd speculated, there was literally nothing here expect us and the car in this shitty garage.

Was it even a garage? More like a big shack. The walls and roof were parts of those large containers carried by cargo ships, welded together and supported by metal poles.

While we were still in the back, the gray one had gone to the front of the car, kneeling down to the floor. What is she doing-

She opened a hatch in the ground and began climbing down, followed by the short one. I went around and was even more impressed; the trapdoor blended perfectly with the concrete floor, scratch for scratch, point for point.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go down," the way she said it felt a bit... commanding? More of a demand than a request, but it was probably just my brain dancing around like a ballerina in the pool that was my skull juices.

I approached the opened hatch, a light source illuminated the bottom which was three or four meters deep. Foot by foot, I descended into the hideout, mindful of my step as to not slip. That happened one time, my ankles still suffer from the effects to this day, mostly mentally.

Once I reached the bottom, I turned around to see a small corridor leading to a reinforced door, that thing could probably tank a C4 and then some more. Just how armed were these girls?

There was a slight crack between the door and the frame, that's where the light bled from. I approached the armored door, pushing it open and stepping in.

Once inside, my eyes almost popped out of their sockets; it was loot fucking haven.

The room was a ten by ten meters square painted with a dull gray, but the interior was legendary; on the right were three actual  beds, frame and everything, a couch to sit at in front of a stand, and best part? THERE AS A TELEVISION ON IT! Sure, it was a box TV, but it worked! I assumed it did, why would they have it otherwise? Esthetics don't mean shit nowadays.