I raise the rifle, resting my cheek against the wooden stock, and aim. A loud shot rings out, and the recoil hits my shoulder noticeably. The fallen beast collapses to the ground, dead, a crimson stain spreading across the grass. The bullet passed through the heart. I pull back the bolt, ejecting the casing, and chamber a new round. I wait a moment in my position, looking around, then stand up and approach the killed deer. According to the Hunter, it's a rare animal that prefers not to enter the Zone.
A red hide with scattered white spots, antlers just starting to grow, and a small body size. Very young. Well, there will be venison for dinner today. I take out my knife and cut the artery in the animal's throat, letting the blood flow out. Then I take a rope from my backpack and tie the hind legs of the dead animal tightly. It shouldn't fall, so I look for a sturdy branch that can support the weight of the young beast.
After hanging the animal on a tree and making sure the deer won't fall, I start to build a fire. A few minutes later, I was sitting by a small crackling fire, with tea brewing in a pot over it. I take the PDA out of my backpack, habitually checking if there are any new messages in the chat. Empty.
About two weeks have passed since my conversation with Valerian. During all this time, the leader of the neutrals has not once summoned me, and this is starting to bother me a little. In general, there was nothing wrong with me not running around on various errands. A lot of time for myself and my own affairs is always good. It's just a little unclear why he invited me if I wasn't that needed?
"Mda," I sigh deeply, putting the communicator back, and then say barely audibly. "Status window."
Status Window
Name:
Nickname: Executioner
Rank: Novice
Faction: Free Stalkers
Reputation: Neutral-Positive.
Condition: Fully healthy.
Skills:
Firearms (Rank: Expert)
Medicine (Rank: Experienced)
Hacking (Rank: Experienced)
Science (Rank: Novice)
Repair (Rank: Experienced)
Hunting (Rank: Expert)
Stealth (Rank: Experienced)
Persuasion (Rank: Experienced)
Melee Weapons (Rank: Experienced)
Unarmed Combat (Rank: Novice)
Time: 10.06.2011, 13:32.
Notes: None.
Achievements: Partial unity with the Zone.
My stats have significantly increased during this time, and while there were no difficulties with persuasion, repair, and hacking, I simply asked Furgon and Shilov to give me a couple of lessons on trading and weapon maintenance, and I also learned to use a lock pick. I don't know how useful it will be for me in the future, but why not? It was with firearms and hunting that I had to try. Every day for the past two weeks, I went hunting, searching the forest east of Valerian's base for various beasts.
Unfortunately, I didn't earn much money from this, just managed to break even. Ammunition is expensive, tails and hooves are barely enough to replenish ammunition, and I had to sell the meat almost for free in the novice village, I brought too much of it. Among the neutrals, besides me, there were a couple of hunters who provided the camp with game for a symbolic fee from the trader.
When I had almost finished butchering the deer, a notification about a new message arrived on my PDA. I return to my backpack, taking out my communicator, and immediately open the group chat section, where the notification was glowing.
Father Valerian: Announcing an urgent gathering, I expect EVERYONE. Those who are not at the base now, report when you will arrive.
Berkut: We'll be there soon, coming from the direction of the Garbage.
Executioner: Half an hour.
After replying in the chat, I start packing up. I put the meat in a bag, and the removed hide in my backpack. I glance briefly at the hanging and butchered carcass of the animal, ultimately deciding to leave it as is. I'll buy a new rope if needed. But the local critters will have an attraction to get the meat.
Half an hour later, I was already approaching the neutrals' base. At the entrance, I am met by an extremely nervous stalker nicknamed Woodpecker, armed with an assault rifle. I walk closer and ask:
"What happened?"
"I don't know myself," he exhales briefly. "But Valerian was angry as hell. I've never seen him like this, sparks flying from his eyes."
"Mda, things look bad," I sigh. "Is anyone else coming?"
"Yes," Woodpecker replies, scratching his head. "But Valerian said not to wait for latecomers, so hurry up. The meeting will start any minute."
"And you're not going?"
"I would, but the camp still needs to be guarded."
"Hah," I smirk. "I didn't think
you were so conscientious."
"Nah," he waves his hand. "Valerian sent me here; I wouldn't go myself."
"Alright, as you say, Woodpecker," I say, walking deeper into the camp.
Now it looked emptier than ever. No cheerful stalker conversations, no crackling fires and the aroma of food cooking on them. Only a couple of sullen stalkers, like Woodpecker, assigned to guard the base. Eh, and the weather started to turn bad. A cold wind blew, and large gray clouds covered the sky, although it was sunny when I left the camp. I don't envy the sentries.
I enter the required building and immediately catch sight of a serious Valerian. His brows were furrowed, his jaw tightly clenched, and his gaze truly boded no good for those who had erred. Looking in my direction, he greeted me with a nod and also pointed to a free spot between Shilov and Furgon, who had left their usual places and were now sitting at the common table with other stalkers.
On the go, I take off my backpack, put it in the corner, and hurry to take my seat. I glance at the others, and I see that many have adopted Valerian's mood. The stalker leader, after a moment of silence, begins to speak:
"Since we are all gathered now, we can begin," he says in a tense voice and, noticing a stalker raising his hand, addresses him. "Yes, Batut?"
"And what about Berkut and his guys, aren't we going to wait for them?" asks a stocky stalker, about forty years old.
"Yakut?" this time Valerian addresses a stalker of Asian appearance, standing behind him and leaning his shoulder against the wall. Yakut's face was a little detached.
"No Berkut," he replies with a deep sigh. "He and his guys were killed. I found the bodies behind the hill to the west; someone hid them in the bushes away from the trail; I barely noticed. They stripped them bare: weapons, supplies, and PDAs, they took everything."
"And the message?" says one of the stalkers sitting at the table. "Damn..."
And at that moment, a notification arrived on the communicators of everyone present. I glance at the trader's PDA, which was lying right in front of him. Turning it on, Shilov goes to the group chat section, where a new message has appeared.
Berkut: Guys, help, we've been ambushed, south of the checkpoint, by the boulders!
In confirmation of the unknown's words, gunfire indeed sounded somewhere in the distance. The stalkers were so stunned that they stared silently at the screens of their devices, rereading the line written from the perspective of the deceased comrade over and over again. I sigh deeply, realizing that we miraculously avoided big problems. If not for Yakut, the Free Stalkers' strike force would already be rushing into the trap. I wouldn't be surprised if the bandits decided to shoot into the air to imitate a real firefight.
Berkut: Does anyone hear? We urgently need help!
Father Valerian: Who are you?
Berkut: Valerian, what are you doing? It's me, Berkut! We're screwed here, and you're asking some nonsense!
Father Valerian: We found the bodies. Who are you?
Berkut: Found? Too bad the plan failed. See you then, Valerian.
I shift my gaze from the communicator screen to the leader and see a truly terrible sight. Wild eyes, bulging veins on his temples and neck, and clenched jaw muscles. Valerian is in a genuine rage. Another moment, and his fist crashes knuckles onto the table with such force that the nearby dishes jump.
"Bastard," Valerian exhales злобно through his teeth.
"What are we waiting for, men?" Batut's extremely angry voice sounds. "Let's gather together and go after them, we'll hang them on our own guts!"
"Yeah," another voice replies. "And what will we achieve? They'll surround us and shoot us like suckers. We can't go now."
"You're scared, huh?" Batut jumps up, starting to advance on his opponent.
"I'm not scared, but going to certain death is foolish!"
"Quiet!" Valerian says loudly, visibly calming down. "Blin is right, they're waiting for us, even now. We need to think this through..."
"But Berkut..."
"No buts," the leader cuts off, hitting the table with his fist again. "We can't help the guys anymore, and if we go unprepared, we'll be covered in blood. S-scum. Shilov, bring a bottle, we'll mourn our guys and cool our heads at the same time."
After a few minutes of silence and drinking to the memory of the guys, many of the stalkers went out to clear their heads and smoke. I, however, remained in the room, as did Valerian, Furgon, and Shilov. They were all in a very enraged state, and I understood them. Not only were their friends killed, but they were also used so cynically. But, honestly, I'm even a little impressed by the bandits; I didn't expect such treachery from them.
"Well, you're a beast, Executioner," Furgon says quietly, his face still flushed. "Such composure, I'm impressed, not a trace of emotion on your face."
"I don't even know what to say," I spread my hands in bewilderment, as I had only known Berkut for a short time, and the System suppresses hormone surges in the blood.
"But I know," Valerian interjects, fixing me with a cold gaze. "How's your marksmanship, Executioner?"
"Not bad, why?"
"Come to my place after the meeting. And, Shilov, this applies to you too," he says, sighing, heading for the exit of the building. "I'll go gather the men before they do something rash."
"Mda-a," the technician drawls, leaning back on the sadly creaking back of a wooden chair. "We're in deep trouble. It's a war with the bandits, I tell you."
"Don't even say it," Shilov replies, taking a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lighting one. "Will you have some?"
I just shake my head, lost in my thoughts. War is indeed inevitable, but we didn't manage to get to the heart of the matter at the meeting. And somewhere at this time, stalkers should learn that Khaletsky is involved in all these troubles with the bandits and start preparing a plan to capture him. Probably, I'll have to participate too; it's not for nothing that Valerian asked about marksmanship. Well, at least some real work.
The stalkers gradually returned to their places, silent and angry. Their frowning faces had lost all the cheerfulness and flippancy that could be seen the day before. Now I see before me people ready to go to their deaths. The bandits will not escape retribution.
"Now that we are all gathered again and have calmed down, we can continue," Valerian says, clearing his throat. "And, unfortunately, the bandits are not our only problem. And before we gather all our strength into a single fist and hit this scum, we need to resolve this matter."
"What are you talking about, Father?" one of the stalkers asks.
"The military," the leader says, looking at our faces.
"And what do they have to do with it?" another wonders. "We trade with them; they don't interfere in our business..."
"They interfere a lot," Valerian stops him, resting his palms on the table. "Executioner, our newcomer, killed three bandits the day before he joined us, who had climbed all the way to the elevator. A dangerous proximity to our camp, but they knew what they were getting into. But the real kicker is something else, namely the PDA of one of these scumbags. There's no point in retelling everything, I'll just summarize: the military, in the person of one specific major, is selling us out."
"Khaletsky?" Yakut, who was still standing behind Valerian, raises a thin eyebrow in surprise. "We pay him a lion's share, and Sidorovich..."
"Sidorovich doesn't care about us and our problems; he just wants business to go smoothly," Shilov replies. "So, what about this major?"
"This scumbag sold several free stalkers into slavery at the Garbage," the stalker leader exhales and immediately raises his hand, cutting off the indignant exclamations. "And he won't get away with it easily; he'll pay with blood, the bastard. But that's not all. Berkut and his guys were carrying a very valuable cargo for Sidorovich. Only the military, who were supposed to transport this cargo to the customer, could have known about it besides me, Sidor, and Berkut himself. And it seems to me that the bandits didn't happen to be in their way by chance. We must return this cargo at any cost, otherwise the trader will skin us alive."
"What should we do, Valerian?" Batut asks. "Just tell us."
"Increase vigilance and set up patrols throughout the Cordon," Valerian says, straightening up and putting his hands behind his back. "We have enough people, but I'll contact other leaders. Shilov will give you ammunition and medicine. For now, we'll just observe; soon this rat should somehow contact the bandits to pick up the case. Is everything clear? If there are no questions... Shilov, Yakut, and Executioner, follow me, we'll discuss the plan of action."