"What's that on your shoulder?" the Hunter asks, glancing curiously at the rifle case.
"This," I reply, moving closer to the table where the old man was sitting. Unzipping the case, I take out the rifle and place it on the tabletop. "Decided to buy myself a scoped rifle."
"Mmm," the stalker says, examining the weapon with an appreciative look. "Good piece, but why did you decide to switch to a Mosin-Nagant?"
"Bad things are brewing, Hunter," I sigh, sitting down next to him. "This will make me feel calmer. I can hunt, and I can fend off people if anything happens."
"That's true," he replies, returning the rifle to the table. "I feel something like that too, deep down. A nasty feeling of cold and fear that makes your heart stop. You should be careful, okay? I don't want to lose such a student, and I still have a lot to teach you."
"I'm curious, by the way," I lean forward slightly, asking the Hunter. "Are there any normal animals in the Zone? Bears, deer, elk, wolves, the same ones. Because in the last two weeks, I've only seen dogs and boars."
"There are, of course," he chuckles, thinking for a moment. "But there are very few of them. The competition among mutants is fierce, they don't spare each other, they fight to the last drop of blood. In my time, I only encountered a mutated horse, one of those that remained in the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone after people left. A real beast. Fast, powerful, it tries to trample you to death with its hooves. If you get distracted, you'll quickly be on your way to the afterlife. And, according to the hunters, that's not even the worst that could happen to the local fauna."
"And where can I talk to such hunters?"
"They're in the Gut," the old man replies, taking a sip of tea. "But there aren't many of them left. Many of them have scattered across the Zone. Some died while hunting, some still wander, living from hunt to hunt, some have joined factions. As far as I know, most of them have settled in Duty; they're the ones who do all the clean-ups, they respect and value hunters."
"Alright, Hunter," I clap my knee and stand up. "I need to go see Wolf about something. Anything to pass on from you?"
"No, thank you, Executioner," the stalker smiles. "I'm afraid I've been on Wolf's nerves lately. He's been with me all the time, like a mother hen, almost never leaving my side while you were crawling through the Swamps."
"Oh, I almost forgot," I realize in the hallway and return to the kitchen to the Hunter. "Will you check the rifle? Sidorovich said he took care of it, but I don't want to go hunting with faulty weapons."
"Of course."
I leave the house, take a deep breath of fresh air, and walk briskly towards Wolf's place. It's just past noon, and the weather is good: pleasant, almost summer sun, with barely perceptible breezes. I could roast some kebabs and sit with friends under a guitar. Maybe organize something like that in the evening? Although, I need to figure out a marinade for the meat.
"It's open," a voice calls from the depths of the house when I knock.
I enter, take off my boots, and go into the room where Wolf was sitting. The leader of the novice village looked unusually grim and serious.
"So, how was your talk with Father Valerian?" I ask, moving a chair closer and sitting on it.
"You'll have to go and grovel to him, Executioner," he replies. "The information is too serious, he wants to confirm it personally. And the PDA needs to be decrypted, and only Furgon can handle that. He's Valerian's technician at the base."
"And when do I need to be there?"
"Now."
"Ugh, and I thought stalkers were free spirits," I sigh, realizing I can't refuse, even though I really didn't want to get involved in clan disputes.
"That's how it is, but the situation is like this now," he says. "I could send your partners, but no. I trust you more."
"I understand," I reply, standing up from the chair. "Do I need to know anything before I go?"
"No, the neutral base is at the pig farm just beyond the railway bridge, you'll see it immediately," Wolf says. "They'll be waiting for you."
"See you, Wolf."
"Good luck, Executioner."
After quickly getting ready and putting the bandit's PDA in my backpack, I leave the village. I didn't risk going onto the asphalt; I had no desire to deal with bandits, as luck might not be on my side. I walked in the lowlands between the road and the barbed wire fence. Rocks, sparse trees, bushes, and anomalies concealed me well, and it would be very difficult for someone on the road to spot a stalker walking peacefully.
Finding myself in one of the small clusters of anomalies, I decide to check it for artifacts. It's unlikely there'll be anything valuable, of course, but using the detector costs me nothing. I scan the surroundings and see nothing but anomalies. Either there's nothing here, or my magical sight only helps me see anomalies, and I'll have to search for artifacts like everyone else. I take out the Echo, turn it on, and nothing happens.
It's not surprising, how many weeks has it been since the last emission? Most likely, other stalkers have already scooped up everything they could reach. I'm about to put the detector back in my backpack when I hear a beep. The Echo is pointing to another anomaly cluster a few meters away. I cautiously approach and start searching for an artifact, sweeping the device in front of me. I have to get almost close to the anomaly, thankfully, I can see its boundaries clearly.
The artifact, a conical and solid object of dark brown color, turns out to be covered by grass. I pick it up, bring it closer to my face, and examine it carefully. It's rough, with small pits all over its surface. It looks like a jellyfish from a game. I carefully place the artifact, wrapped in a plastic bag just in case, into my backpack, hoping it won't damage any of the equipment. And I start moving my legs quickly to get to the neutral base faster.
But even reaching the elevator isn't easy. When I'm only a few dozen meters from the former granary, a blind dog appears from behind a bush and, almost without hesitation, lunges at me with a loud bark. I quickly aim my rifle and blow off the unfortunate dog's head, which is literally thrown back by the force of the shot, and the once green clearing is flooded with blood. I draw my pistol from the holster because several dogs, having appeared from everywhere, are rushing at me.
I shoot a few times, taking down three dogs running at me from the front. Unfortunately, a couple of shots go wide. I hear a rustling of grass behind me, barely audible, and take a step aside, turning around. Just in time. A dog almost sinks its teeth into my leg, passing only a few centimeters from me. It lands already dead. Five dogs, six pistol rounds, and one shotgun shell. I quickly cut off the dogs' tails, also throwing them into my backpack. Good thing I grabbed a bunch of plastic bags; I won't get anything bloody.
The passage through the railway bridge is blocked by a pile of various debris. A fallen wagon, covered with earth and pebbles, several concrete slabs, remnants of iron pipes, a UAZ parked alone near all this mess, and even an excavator. I thoughtfully raise my gaze upwards, looking at the torn rails and the wagon hanging by a thread. The spatial anomaly was also in its place. As far as I remember, it leads somewhere east, into a buried tunnel, and there should even be some loot there. But I'm definitely not going to crawl in there.
I calmly pass the future stalker checkpoint and head straight for the stalker base, which is now within reach. Two dilapidated single-story buildings and a passage blocked by various equipment. A real fortress in the Zone's reality. I wonder what will damage it in the future?
"Halt, who goes there?" a stalker standing on the roof of one of the buildings calls out loudly, pointing his assault rifle at me.
"Executioner, from the novice village," I introduce myself, raising my hands. "Father Valerian called me to chat."
"There was such a one," he replies, lowering his weapon. "Come in quickly, kid."
I nod, and a minute later, I enter their camp. It's very lively here, at least twenty stalkers, maybe more. I walk past cheerful groups and head straight for the fence separating the base into two parts. An another stalker stops me near it.
"Who are you?" the man asks hoarsely, leaning his shoulder against the fence. A hood is pulled over his head, and his face is covered with cloth. His hand rests casually on his pistol holster.
"Executioner, to Father Valerian," I introduce myself briefly.
"Ah, it's you," he yawns, removing his hand from his weapon. "Go on, they're waiting for you. You're on the left."
"Do I need to surrender my weapon?"
"Nah, why?" the stalker says. "You're not a fool to wave your gun around. And if you are a fool, then I'll tell you - the moment you reach for your piece, you'll be stuffed with lead. Now hurry up, don't distract me."
I walk further and immediately turn left, entering the building I need. The few candles illuminating the room are clearly not enough, because I trip over a bucket standing in the middle of the passage and almost fall. Muttering a curse, I walk straight to the open door at the end of the corridor, carefully watching my feet.
I enter a well-furnished room. Several old and faded carpets, a normal bed, wardrobes, chairs, a couple of tables, and even a working generator connected to a desk lamp. At the table in the center of the room sat Father Valerian, writing something on paper. A short hedgehog of black hair, a long and straight nose, a bushy mustache, and a shaven chin. Thick eyebrows and a slightly frowning gaze.
"What business
do you have?" Valerian says in a booming voice, noticing me and looking up from his documents. "I don't remember you, stalker."
"Executioner," I reply. "You called me."
"Ah," he draws out, standing up from the table and approaching me, extending his hand for a handshake. "Well, hello, Executioner. Forgive me for being so abrupt, a lot of things have piled up. And then that attack on you, ugh."
"Did something happen?" I ask, shaking his firm hand.
"Yes. Come in, sit down. Would you like some tea, no? Alright then," he says, pacing the room, and finally sitting back in his place. "There's no special secret to this. Many stalkers have gone missing lately. And it's definitely not natural, heh, reasons. Someone is definitely involved here, and I think you can shed some light on this whole business. Tell me."
"What is there to tell," I reply, waving my hand. "We were hunting with the guys. I went to relieve myself, and when I returned, there were bandits, three of them, pressuring the guys. They were talking about some boss, about him having a lot of work."
"Did they mention names?"
"No," I shake my head. "I would have liked to hear more of what they had to say, but I had to intervene. They could have shot the guys."
"You did the right thing, kid. You have to save your own," Valerian chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "Things are getting bad. The bandits have gotten completely out of hand, they're walking openly around the Cordon now. In times like these, all honest stalkers need to stick together, what do you think?"
"About what?" I didn't quite understand.
"About you joining us," Valerian replies with a slight smile, looking at me intently. "You're a good stalker, even if inexperienced, and you have a lot of potential. I agree with Wolf on this."
"And what will be required of me if I join?"
Ugh, I'll have to participate in clan wars after all, and I thought I could sit it out. It was easy to refuse Clear Sky; they wouldn't go beyond their Swamps and couldn't influence me. But Valerian and his group are firmly established on the Cordon, and it will be a long time before they can be driven out. If they can be driven out at all, I don't know how the story I know will unfold now. If I offend Valerian, my path here will be blocked; they won't shoot or rob me, but they might overcharge me or kick me out of the camp, and I'll have to take detours.
"We, Executioner," Valerian begins, "are free spirits. We go and do what we want, only we follow the stalker code. Do you know about it?"
"No, tell me."
"It's simple," he smiles broadly. "To be a stalker means to be human, Executioner. To help a comrade in need, not to steal, to share food and medicine, to cover your back in battle, to share a night's sleep by the fire. That's all. Do you agree?"
"Yes," I reply.
Congratulations, User! You have joined the Free Stalkers faction!