Chasing Gas Canisters in the Observatory Lab: My Cleanup Mission Tale

The rotor wash from the extraction helicopter is still ringing in my ears. I’m standing on the cracked tarmac of Al Mazrah, staring down at the smoking ruin of Zaya Observatory, and I can’t shake the memory of those yellow canisters. It’s 2026, but the Shadow Company faction mission Cleanup feels as fresh as yesterday’s firefight. I’d heard whispers about the subterranean lab that was revealed after the Season 5 Reloaded destruction – a hidden world of shattered glass, twisted metal, and toxic secrets. When the assignment dropped, requiring me to extract eight leftover gas canisters from that very lab, I knew it would be a grind. What I didn’t know was how much the hunt would test my patience, my aim, and my ability to survive with a backpack full of round, yellow nightmares.

Descending into the Lab

The first shock was the entrance. I’d memorised the old Zaya Observatory layout from a hundred firefights, but now the eastern closed tunnel northwest of the complex was wide open, a yawning mouth leading into darkness. I could also have chosen one of the collapsed observation decks – gaping wounds in the mountain that now served as makeshift doorways. I went in through the tunnel because it felt cinematic, and I’m a sucker for a dramatic entry. The moment my boots hit the steel grating of the inner lab, the atmosphere changed. Flickering overhead lights revealed abandoned workstations, overturned hazmat carts, and the faint chemical burn in the air that reminded me these gas canisters weren’t just set dressing.

The mission objective was brutally simple: extract 8 leftover gas canisters from the exposed Observatory Lab. No other tasks, no extra steps. Shadow Company doesn’t do half-measures, though – this was a Tier 3 operation, and the reward was a contraband FJX Imperium sniper rifle and a fat injection of 10,000 XP. I figured I’d be in and out in two deployments. I was laughably wrong.

The Hunt for Yellow

Inside the lab, the canisters can spawn anywhere. That’s the part the mission briefing doesn’t scream loud enough: anywhere. I checked underneath desks, behind server racks, even balanced precariously on a collapsed ceiling panel that nearly sent me into the abyss. The canisters are bright yellow, like small propane tanks with a sinister purpose, and they catch the eye only if you’re scanning every corner. My first sweep yielded just three before a squad of hostile AI operators pinned me near the chemical storage wing. I fought them off with a Kastov 762 that I’d brought in, but my backpack was already half-full of canisters and I was dangerously low on plates.

The key realisation came after I extracted that first batch: only a limited number of canisters appear per deployment. I had assumed I could comb the entire lab and walk away with all eight in one glorious exfil, but the game’s logic is crueller than that. My second run I found just two before the area was picked clean. I started to develop a route that took me through the lower server room, the collapsed atrium (where a massive chunk of the ceiling rested on a pile of desks), and the ruined observation gallery that overlooked the once-lush interior of the original observatory. The canisters had no fixed home, but they seemed to favour dark corners and the edges of rooms where no sane operator would linger.

Close Calls and Ally Distractions

By deployment four, I’d learned to prioritise speed over thoroughness. I would sprint into the lab from the eastern tunnel, check the immediate control room, then sweep the maintenance passages. If I was lucky, I’d grab one or two canisters before the AI’s reinforcement wave arrived. One time I stumbled on a cluster of three right next to a deactivated security turret – my heart hammered as I looted them, waiting for the turret to wake up (it didn’t, thank goodness). Another time I had to fight off a rival squad who had the same idea. We traded shots in the half-light, and I managed to slip away clutching a single canister that I almost died for.

There was a moment during run five when I had accumulated four canisters – my personal best for a single deployment – and I was making for the exfil point near the old helipad. The sun was setting over Al Mazrah, casting long orange beams through the shattered dome of the lab, and I could hear the distant whine of the chopper. That’s when a six-man patrol spawned in the courtyard I needed to cross. I lay flat behind a burned-out vehicle and watched them mill around for two full minutes, my heart beating against the floor so loudly I was sure they’d hear it. Eventually I timed a sprint between their patrol patterns, dodged through a gap in the fence, and stumbled onto the helicopter with seconds to spare. The exfil screen tally showed seven canisters – one shy of completion.

The Final Canister

That last canister became an obsession. Over the next few deployments, I began to recognise the lab’s rhythm. The canisters weren’t just random; the spawns seemed to reset after a certain period, but spreading my search across multiple entrances increased my chances. I used the southern collapsed roof as my entry on the final run. The light was better there in the morning, and I found two canisters almost immediately: one inside a tipped-over locker, another sitting brazenly on a desk as if someone had just put it down and walked away. I stowed them both, inhaled a deep breath of the still, chemical-tanged air, and began a careful patrol toward the exit.

On the way out, I discovered a third canister wedged behind a fallen pillar. That put my total at nine – enough, even though the mission only asked for eight. I didn’t dare pause. I moved through the lab like a ghost, slipping past detection zones, until I reached the same eastern tunnel I had first entered days ago. The exfil chopper’s engines were already hot. I tossed the final canister into the bird’s hold, climbed aboard, and watched the Observatory Lab shrink beneath us.

Lessons from the Cleanup

If someone asks me now what the Cleanup mission taught me, I’d say it’s a masterclass in patience and situational mapping. Here are a few things that actually helped, stripped of bravado:

• Multiple runs are mandatory – I’ve never seen eight canisters in a single deployment. Plan for at least three visits, four if you’re unlucky.

• Learn the spawn logic – Canisters favour low-traffic spots, but over-familiarising yourself with one route only burns you. Enter from different sides each time; the eastern tunnel, the collapsed dome entrance, and the northwest stairwell are all viable.

• Pack light and fast – You’ll be picking up multiple items, so your backpack fills quickly. I ran with a medium backpack and dropped everything but ammo and plates before entering the lab. You don’t want to ditch a canister to make room for a random ground loot attachment.

• Watch your exfil timing – The lab sits close to popular exfil zones, meaning other players often pass through. I favoured early-morning or late-night deployments when the server population dipped, but you can also wait for the radiation circle to push people away before sneaking in.

• Use the environment – The lab is full of verticality. Some canisters hide on high catwalks that you can reach by climbing the collapsed structure. Don’t just stick to ground level.

In the end, I turned in those eight canisters at the mission terminal and claimed my FJX Imperium. The sniper is a beast, but honestly, the real prize was the knowledge that I had crawled through every inch of that haunted facility and came out with everything it had to offer. The Cleanup mission might be old news to some, but for me, it’s the reason I still love the unpredictability of DMZ. No matter how many guides you read, the adventure is always yours – and it smells faintly of synthetic gas and gunpowder.