I look at my torso and sigh, realizing I'll have to part with another jacket, and I had just gotten used to this one. Well, there's nothing to be done about it; there are no washing machines on the Cordon. I bend down and wipe my bloody knife on the Witcher's clothes, then turn my gaze to my teammates:
"What?" I ask them, raising my left eyebrow slightly.
"You're asking what?!"
Dya-tel exclaims. "You! You took them out like Rambo, even better!"
"The main thing is that we're alive," I shrug, and then look at Yakut, who has already regained his composure. "What are we going to do?"
"Gather all valuables and get out of here," the squad leader says, looking around the room again. "And where are you off to, Blin?"
I turn my gaze to the stalker, who is now trying to sneak away quietly. He slowly backs towards the exit, but as soon as Yakut notices him, Blin trips over the corpse of one of the hunter's accomplices and falls to the floor. Raising his hands in front of him, the greatly paled stalker tries to justify himself:
"I-I... You-you don't u-understand...!" he says, stuttering badly.
"Oh, didn't understand, huh?" Dya-tel hisses menacingly, catching up to the stalker in one leap, and lifts him by the collar with one hand, delivering a strong blow with his right directly to the cheek.
"Enough," Yakut says tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. When the stalker doesn't stop, he shouts at him. "Enough! Let Valerian deal with him. And, Blin, don't even think anyone will fall for your fairy tales about how you distracted them."
"I would have taken his weapon too," I say, reloading my pistol and holstering it. "Just in case he shoots us in the back."
"Don't worry, Executioner," Dyatel grins, looking at me and cracking his knuckles. "Let him try, the rat."
"Mda-a-a," Yakut drawls, examining the Witcher's corpse. "Couldn't you have taken him down less bloodily? It's all covered in blood, the PDA might glitch."
"Well, excuse me, I didn't have time for that," I spread my hands, then turn to Dog. "How are you doing there? Need a hand getting up?"
"That would be nice," the stalker says, extending a strong, calloused hand to me, and I help him to his feet. "You're my idol now, Executioner."
"Ha," I barely manage a smirk and pick up my rifle, slinging it over my shoulder. "Autographs are only for young girls."
"You're breaking my heart," Dog sighs theatrically, and all of us, except for Blin, who's cowering in the corner, laugh.
While the guys gather everything they can carry from here, I decide to rest a bit as the victor and sit down on one of the surviving chairs. It's wobbly, damn it, but oh well. I watch as Dyatel and Dog disarm the bandits and dump the ammunition into a separate duffel bag, also taken from a corpse. Meanwhile, Yakut stands aside, smoking a cigarette. I unhook my canteen from my belt, finish the last of the water, and involuntarily start thinking about the situation.
When I was coming here with the guys, I thought it was a bit strange. After all, there wasn't a word about Kishka, let alone the bandits in it, in the game. And now I'm starting to realize that there was a detachment led by Valerian's right-hand man there too, only no one was there to save them. The longer I stay here, the more I change history. But I didn't have time to think further as a hand fell on my shoulder.
"Time to go, Executioner," Yakut says, squeezing my hand slightly. "We're just waiting for you."
I nod silently and stand up from the chair, heading for the exit of the gas station. I cast a quick glance at the beaten-up Blin, loaded with unloaded weapons and a couple of bags of various goods. Judging by his appearance, he was on the verge of losing consciousness, and I could understand that. But not accept it. I don't think they'll kill him for attempting betrayal, but he has no place among the stalkers anymore. Yakut lingers near him, whispering something quietly. I don't listen and just walk forward.
Dyatel is found a few meters from the gas station, next to an abandoned "Bukhanka." Leaning his back against the thick trunk of an oak tree, he was quietly talking to Dog, who was armed with one of the Kalashnikovs. Noticing that I had come out, the stalkers beckoned me over. I turn left on my heels and walk straight towards them.
"What are you guys talking about?" I ask them, looking at the clearing spread out nearby, full of various flowers.
"Shortly before you arrived," Dog begins. "I accidentally overheard about the bandit stash. Something about Yoge's share and all that, so it should be on the roof of the gas station."
"Let me give you a boost, and you can see what's there," Dyatel offers in turn, demonstratively stretching his shoulders and neck.
"Why not," I reply and walk closer to the shabby wall of the gas station.
Dyatel clasps his hands together, and I place my hand on his shoulder and step on his clasped hands. The stalker gives me a boost, and I grab the edge of the roof, pulling myself up. The sloping roof of the gas station is covered with slate, worn out by many years. I notice a bag lying a couple of meters away from me and carefully walk towards it, occasionally hearing the crunch of slate under my weight. I grab the bandit stash and carefully jump off the roof.
I untie the knot of the duffel bag, watching out of the corner of my eye as other stalkers gather around me. I open the mouth and reach inside, feeling for something that looks like large smooth stones. Could they be artifacts? With great anticipation, I pull one out and can't suppress a sigh of disappointment. They're just stones, and underneath them is the real prize. A sealed plastic bag with rolled-up banknotes.
"I wonder how much is in there?" Dyatel says, whistling.
"Let's count," I reply and am about to open the bag when Yakut stops me.
"No need," he says, squeezing my shoulder firmly. "I think everyone here will agree that the money should go to you. If it weren't for you... you know."
"It's easier to part with an unknown sum," Dog smiles slightly, patting me on the back. "Thank you, you saved our skins. And this money is rightfully yours."
"Heh," I smirk slightly in return, tucking the money into my breast pocket. "When we get to the base, I'll treat you."
"Now that's more like it," Dyatel exclaims loudly, smiling broadly.
"By the way, Yakut," I say, remembering and asking the question that interests me. "Are we going to the hunters' base? It seems to be nearby on the maps, maybe there's something interesting left there."
"We should," the squad leader sighs, ruffling his black hair. "But no, we won't. Dog is wounded, he needs to rest, I don't trust Blin anymore, and it's too risky to go there just the three of us. And I've had enough adventures for today, so let's head to the base."
We didn't reach the stalkers' base until a few hours later, when the sun was already slowly setting beyond the horizon. We could have gone faster, but Dog couldn't walk fast due to his wounds and often needed rest. Because of this, the stalker apologized to all of us several times for the delay. By the way, when we offered to take him to the Novice Village to his brother, he refused, saying he would visit him himself later, once he recovered. And he hinted transparently that someone had promised to treat them, and he wouldn't leave us before that happened.
But we couldn't rest immediately. After settling Dog in one of the free beds and handing over all the loot to Shilov for appraisal, Yakut and I immediately went to Valerian. Dyatel stayed to watch Blin, which caused some stalkers to cast wary glances, but they didn't interfere for now, understanding that something extraordinary had happened, since one of them was under escort.
"So, eagles, how did it go?" Valerian asks us, meeting us in his office, and then raises an eyebrow questioningly. "What did you get so dirty in, Executioner?"
"In the Witcher's guts," Yakut replies curtly, slumping into a chair, and I follow his example.
"Ta-a-ak," the stalker drawls, starting to twist his mustache with his right hand, and sits down opposite us. "Tea will have to wait. What happened?"
"An ambush," the squad leader replies, tiredly rubbing his neck. "The Witcher, that scumbag, was heading to his buddies. They immediately hired him to thin our ranks before the upcoming war with the bandits. He killed Berkut, by the way... In short, if it weren't for the Executioner, we wouldn't have survived."
"Mda," Valerian replies, wiping his face with his hand. "The enemies turned out to be much closer than we thought. Was there anything in the PDA?"
"It's password-protected, Furgan is already working on it. But that's not all," Yakut continues grimly. "Blin, when they caught us, suddenly decided to change camps."
"It gets worse and worse," the clan leader sighs. "Is he alive?"
"Yes," the stalker nods. "Dyatel just roughed him up a bit."
"Here," Valerian reaches into one of the pockets of his gray jumpsuit and pulls out a large key, handing it to Yakut. "Lock him up with Khaletsky for now, so he doesn't escape, and tomorrow we'll have a trial. You can go."
And why did he call me? Without waiting for us to leave, the group leader gets up from the table and takes out his communicator, starting to pace the room and write to someone. There's nothing to be done, we have to carry out the order. Blin is found in a nook next to a cage where the major is sitting. The stalker is crying and even whimpering a little, hugging his knees and rocking slightly. Dyatel sits on a chair nearby, cleaning his assault rifle.
"Oh, and what did Valerian say?" he asks, tearing himself away from his task.
"In the cage, he'll sit with Khaletsky," Yakut replies, approaching the bars and opening the lock.
The major, who had been sitting on the chair until then and paying no attention to what was happening, stirred and jumped up. In one step, he covered the distance to the bars, grabbing the iron bars.
"Just try it, you scumbags," he hisses menacingly. "I won't tolerate..."
"We don't care what you tolerate and what you don't," the stalker replies calmly, landing a blow to the solar plexus, and Khaletsky involuntarily takes a couple of short steps back. "You'll have company, you have more in common
than you think. Dyatel, drag him in."
Approaching the traitor, who had curled into a ball, he grabs him by the arm, squeezing it tightly, and begins to drag him towards the cell. Blin tries to resist, but against a larger and stronger stalker, he has no chance. After a couple of moments, the crying defector is in the cell with the major, and the cell is locked.
"And," Yakut says, stepping back a couple of paces from the bars, turning around and addressing Khaletsky. "Just try to touch him, and you'll regret it."
"How you guys are," he replies, grinning nastily and emphasizing the next word. "Caring, rats. But it's okay, it's okay, you'll all regret it soon..."
"What a bastard," Dyatel says, picking up his cleaned assault rifle.
"Forget it," I say, patting the stalker lightly on the back. "Let's go see Shilov, see how much we got for it."
Yakut had already left the room, so we went to the merchant together. To our great regret, we didn't earn much from selling the weapons, only nine thousand. Because some of the guns were in bad condition. And, judging by Shilov's grin, I'll have to fix them. But I acquired a good multi-shot shotgun, which I decided to keep for myself, and, counting the money from the weapon sale, I earned a decent twenty-three thousand today. A considerable sum for the inhabitants of the Cordon, and I'll have to think about where to invest it.
And for now, having bought a couple of bottles of vodka and various snacks and sent Dyatel to get our squad leader, I went to Dog to treat him.