Arriving at the Flea Market, I slowly climb the stairs, and, noticing a tense Napr pacing back and forth on the platform, I walk straight towards him. He stops mid-step, looks me up and down with a keen gaze, and nods with some relief.
"I started to worry when I heard shots from that side," he explains his state, sitting down on a mattress by the wall and beckoning me over. "Did something happen?"
"You could say that," I reply, stepping closer and taking the real note from my pocket. "Here, take it. This is what the Smuggler left. But I must disappoint you, there's a rat among your group."
"A rat?" the digger raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," I say, while my hand reaches for the second note. "As soon as the Smuggler's messenger disappeared, Avoska appeared with three bandits and the first thing he did was replace the real note with this one."
"What a scumbag!" Napr snatches it from my hands and practically hisses after reading it. "And he was supposed to go instead of you. S-son of a bitch!"
"If it makes you feel any better, his accomplices dealt with him almost immediately after he showed them the cache."
"And good riddance to that scum," the digger leader says and slaps his palm hard on his face. "Now many of our failures become clear. And the ammunition supply was delayed just before the capture of Pale's group, and much more. And he, by the way, also spent time in a concentration camp. A selling scumbag. Apparently, they let him go for cooperation, and we just believed him, saying he was brave. He wasn't afraid to go against Yoga's lackeys and managed to escape. Ugh!"
"Here, something else," I hand him the PDAs I collected from the corpses. "Took them from Avoska and his killers. Take a look at your leisure, maybe there's something important."
"Definitely," Napr, slightly calmed down, sighs, taking the PDA, and then stands up and shakes my hand firmly. "Thank you, you've helped us out a lot for the second time. If Yoga had found out the coordinates of the weapons, it would have been a great catastrophe..."
"Regarding Yogi and his gang..." I begin, pausing briefly, then continuing with a slight chuckle. "Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Executioner, commander of the second stalker squad from the Cordon, under Valerian's leadership. I've arrived here for reconnaissance on the eve of war with the bandits. And, since we've resolved the issue of arms supply, I propose an alliance with the diggers."
"Wait, an alliance?" Napr repeats. "Valerian's group is with us?"
"Yes," I nod. "I think we could use your help, but before we discuss all of this, we need to deal with another problem."
"And what is that?"
"We need to destroy the jammer."
"But how?" he asks. "Even if you hit it with your rifle, their technician will easily fix it. Believe me, he has enough spare parts for that. And not only that, he'll move it somewhere else. And Yogi will chase you all over the Garbage for such an attempt and won't rest until he deals with you."
"That's for me to decide how to proceed," I interrupt him, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "Everything will be decided tonight. And I understand that serious matters like our cooperation aren't settled so easily. So, for now, discuss your future prospects with your trusted people, and tomorrow, when communication is restored, we'll talk in more detail."
"Wait," Napr stops me as I'm about to leave. "Honestly, there's nothing for us to discuss. We're all sick of the brotherhood. So we'll gladly participate with you in hunting 'witches.' But you're right, as long as there's no communication with the Cordon, it's difficult to agree on anything. Maybe you need some help? We and the guys, after everything you've done for us..."
"No, thank you," I nod again with a slight smile on my lips. "I'll handle it myself."
Leaving Napr bewildered and alone with his thoughts, I move to a far corner and consider my plan of action. The diggers will indeed serve us well in this war; at the very least, they are familiar with the Garbage and can help us with information about various paths, hideouts, and so on. And at most, they can take the brunt of the bandit squad from the Dark Valley when their boss calls them for backup.
But all these plans are unfeasible as long as communication with the rest of the Zone is jammed. And this problem needs to be solved as soon as possible, before Valerian and the other stalker captains launch an attack themselves. This means I need to figure out how to pull this off.
First, the jammer itself. There will be no problems with it; shooting it with a rifle is as simple as can be. Second, the technician who maintains it. This is a much more difficult task. I could try to lure him out by shooting at the device, but I suspect they'll assign someone else to remove it from the roof. And I won't be able to stay in one place for long; just a couple of shots and I'll be spotted, and then, as Napr said, they'll chase me all over the Garbage.
And since luring the Transparent one out won't work, there's only one option left. To go to him myself. But there are problems here too. It's incredibly dangerous, and I don't even know what he looks like. But at least from the game, I remember which part of the hangar his small room with tools is located in, so that's one less problem. All I need to do is sneak inside and kill whoever is there. Or, at least, wait for him to appear. It's very risky, but I believe in the strength of my skills, especially since I use stealth very often, and, I think, tonight will bring me another promotion.
Time passed in such reflections until late evening, when the Sun had already begun to inexorably dip towards the horizon. It's time. Leaving my backpack and rifle for safekeeping with Napr, I descend the concrete stairs. Of all my belongings, I decided to take only my pistols, a good opportunity to test the Colt, their ammunition, a knife, a flashlight, a couple of bandages, a medkit, and one syringe of antirad. Just in case.
Then, following a familiar route, I skirt the garbage heap west of the diggers' camp, involuntarily admiring nature in the rays of the setting Sun. I stop briefly right before a dug pit and take a leisurely look around the area. An unimaginable number of various flowers surrounded me, shimmering with red-orange hues in the reflections of the celestial body sinking below the horizon, pleasantly breaking up the overall view of places abandoned by civilization. I close my eyes for a moment and inhale the scent of blooming summer, finding myself for an instant somewhere far away, but definitely not in the Exclusion Zone. But the beautiful moment was not destined to last long.
"Woof! Woof-woof!" From behind the turn of the man-made hill, a blind dog ran out at me with a ringing bark, evidently considering me easy prey.
With lightning speed, I draw the Colt from my belt, take a step to the side, letting the jumping mutt pass me, and end its life with a precise shot to the back of the head. Either it was too hungry, or too stupid, or maybe all of it, for it to decide to attack a person alone. However, the blind dog perfectly reminded me how beautiful and terrible this land is simultaneously. One can admire the views of these places as much as they want, but danger can lurk around any corner. Something I have unforgivably forgotten.
I skirt the heap and carefully look around before moving on. Assured that no one is nearby, I head towards the red brick fence, taking cover behind it. Alas, I came out too early; I've had enough of one night walk, so I'll have to wait until it gets completely dark and the brothers disperse to their own business.
So, listening to the conversations and loud laughter of others, I waited a couple of hours until the bright red glow in the sky finally gave way to dark blue, and the number of bandits loitering outside was reduced to a minimum. I detach myself from the fence and do a quick warm-up to loosen my muscles and get the blood flowing.
As soon as I finish preparing, I listen carefully to what's happening beyond the wall again and, assured of complete silence, take a deep breath and take a run-up of several meters. Reaching half a meter from the fence, I jump, pushing off the bricks with my right foot, and propel myself upwards, grabbing the edge of the fence with my fingers and climbing over it.
"What
the..." a bandit, who had stepped around the corner for a private matter, exclaims in shock.
I draw my blade from its sheath before landing on the cracked asphalt and, with a wide swing, cut the throat of the unfortunate bandit, splashing blood onto the ground. He wheezes, trying to call for help, but nothing comes out due to his severed vocal cords. He tries to turn, but life leaves him as unexpectedly as my arrival, and the criminal simply falls to the side. I manage to catch the blood-soaked corpse and carefully lay him on the ground so that passing bandits might mistake him for a drunken sleeper. Especially since he reeked of cheap vodka, and they're unlikely to notice the blood in such darkness.
As soon as I take a step away from him, a sudden thought strikes me, and I turn back to the corpse, bend down, and begin searching his jacket, not daring to touch his pants. After all, he didn't manage to empty his bladder, and muscles tend to relax after death.
After a minute of searching, the knife I was looking for, which resembled a kitchen knife more than a combat blade, was found in one of the pockets. Poorly balanced, but decently sharpened. It'll be more than enough to throw at someone once.
"Hey, did you fall asleep?" a hoarse voice calls loudly from around the corner a few meters away. "God forbid he fell into a puddle of piss again. Let's go check."
"Maybe forget it? Let him lie there until morning," another bandit replies in a young voice. "The nights are warm, what's going to happen to him."
"Yeah, yeah, and when you twisted your leg, who carried you on their back? Silent? That's what I thought."
Before the bandits could round the corner, I quickly and quietly hide in the corner between the toilet and the brick fence, holding my breath. Here they appear and head straight for their dead comrade, spotting his silhouette in the darkness. One of them curses loudly, and they surround the body from both sides to grab him by the arms and legs. I approach as they pay no attention to me.
"And what is this?" the young criminal says, leaning towards the dead man's neck and noticing a large cut on it, then straightens up abruptly and wants to say something to his companion, but it's too late.
The dead man's knife plunges directly into his eye, ensuring almost instantaneous death. The last of them, seeing this, turns sharply towards me, raising his hand with a pistol and about to shout something, but I don't let that happen. I jump towards him and with a sharp upward motion from below, I strike his chin with my open right palm, stifling the cry in its infancy. Then, before he can orient himself, I plunge the blade into his neck, twist it, and push the bleeding bandit to the ground, immediately kicking the pistol out of his hand.
Now I need to act quickly, before another bandit comes out to relieve himself. I turn and walk quickly to the corner of the hangar, cautiously peeking around it. On the dark street, illuminated only by the moon and stars, there was no one. Even the bar, run by Borov, was empty.
I head towards the closed gates of the hangar itself and examine them carefully until I find a slightly ajar door on the left side, cut directly into the metal leaf. I open it, cautiously poke my head through, and look around. In the far part of the depot, right behind a wagon, the bandits were gathered around a fire, talking loudly about something. A couple more bandits were in a small opening to the right, where, as I recall from the game, a merchant was located. I need to act now, while everyone is busy with their own affairs.
I carefully enter, quietly closing the door behind me, and just as quietly head towards the passage on the left, above which, in the dim glare of the fire, I can read the inscription "Workshop." I carefully step over the small threshold and find myself in a small room divided into two parts. In the first part, the local thugs had set up sleeping places, bringing in three bunk beds from somewhere, partially occupied by sleeping bandits. Oh, you guys are unlucky.
But I don't have time for them yet. I go to the passage to the second part of the room and freeze, listening to the sounds. Besides the quiet snoring behind me, I could hear the faint but distinct clanging of metal. The technician is here. I peek a little and see the Transparent one, bent over the table almost closely, filing the bolt of a disassembled Kalashnikov lying in front of him. Modifying something?
I quietly walk deeper into the second room, finding myself behind the technician. He is so engrossed in his work that he doesn't even notice the shadow that flashed in his peripheral vision. And I almost jump when another system window appears.
Congratulations, user! Your Stealth skill has reached the Expert rank!
You have mastered silent movement, and now you are much harder to detect!
I mentally swipe the notification away and get to work. I sharply cover the Transparent one's mouth with my palm, preventing him from screaming, and just as sharply pull him towards me, exposing his neck and cutting it. He tries to resist me somehow, but it's all in vain. I hold the moaning technician like this until the Transparent one finally goes silent, and lay his body on the floor. And now it's time to get out of here...
Congratulations, user! Your Cold Weapons skill has reached the Expert rank!
You have mastered new knife fighting techniques at a high level.
The inscription appeared before my eyes as soon as I stabbed the last sleeping bandit in the workshop alcove. Forgive me, Azot, but it seems you've just lost your drunken assistant. And you too, Degtyarev, no one will steal Strelok's loot from the caches anymore. But these are just jokes. I don't know if I really killed Senka, but it doesn't matter. I wipe the blade of my dagger on the mattress of one of the killed and quietly slip out onto the street, climbing over the fence just as I did the first time.
"Status window," I whisper in the darkness on the way to the Flea Market, illuminating my path with a flashlight. "And after all this, I'm still a novice?"
Status Window
Name:
Nickname: Executioner
Rank: Novice
Faction: Free Stalkers
Reputation: Good.
Condition: almost healthy.
Skills:
Firearms (Rank: Expert)
Medicine (Rank: Experienced)
Lockpicking (Rank: Experienced)
Science (Rank: Novice)
Repair (Rank: Experienced)
Hunting (Rank: Expert)
Stealth (Rank: Expert)
Persuasion (Rank: Experienced)
Cold Weapons (Rank: Expert)
Unarmed Combat (Rank: Novice)
Time: 05.07.2011, 23:32.
Notes: None.
Achievements: Partial unity with the Zone.