I shake out all the contents of my backpack, it's not needed for now, and stuff all the money I have inside. I only left a few thousand as an emergency reserve, who knows, I might suddenly get hungry or run out of ammo. Well, whatever. I go out into the hallway, put on my combat boots there, lacing them loosely, and go outside. I close the door behind me and run to Sidorovich's bunker with a full backpack.
The trading post greets me with the usual semi-darkness of occasionally flickering light bulbs and bundles of wires hanging from the ceiling, leading to the metal door. And Stas, as always, sits on his chair and reads some book with a worn-out colorful cover.
"Hey," I greet him loudly, approaching.
"Ugh!" he almost jumped up and grabbed his weapon. "Executioner, you! You devil, why sneak up like that? You saw I was a little busy..."
"Should I go whisper to Sidor that you're not handling your job?" and noticing how Stas's eyebrows rise high even under his balaclava and his mouth opens, I hurry to turn it into a joke. "Don't worry, I won't tell. Check it out."
"You scared me," he shakes his head and with a quiet grunt gets up from the chair, approaching. "Do you only have one pistol and a knife with you?"
"I'm only going out for half an hour," I shrug. "Are you going to check the bag?"
"Well, it's obvious from you. Show me," I lift the backpack to chest level and open it, showing the contents to the guard. "Wow, you even have more than the Hunter. Alright, you can go in. Just wait here a couple of minutes until Sidor finishes with another customer."
"Well, at least in something I surpassed my teacher," I chuckle quietly under my breath and close the bag again. "And how long ago did that stalker come in?"
But before Stas can open his mouth, the thick metal door opens with a clang, and a stalker in a leather jacket with a hood pulled over his head immediately runs out. He stops for a moment, glances at me, and I freeze. A girl!
About ten centimeters shorter than me, a fit figure hidden under clothes a couple of sizes too big. Clean and fair skin of the face, thin dark eyebrows, a snub-nosed and neat nose, expressive brown eyes looking at me with a hint of anger and condescension, and full pink lips. Chuckling briefly at something, the girl looks me up and down and, lifting her chin, goes upstairs.
"What a chick, huh," the guard's voice pulls me out of my contemplative state. "Talked to Sidor about something for half an hour."
"And has she been here long, do you know?" I ask him.
"A few days. She made such a splash with everyone," Stas replies, thinking. "But if you're thinking of hitting on her, forget it. Guys from the village tried, but she blew them all off. And she put a pistol to the balls of the most persistent one."
"And did he back off after that?"
"Nah, he tried to sneak into her room at night, but other guys beat him up so badly that he disappeared from the village the next day," the stalker says. "Are you going in or staying with me?"
"I'm going in, I'm going in."
Sidorovich sat at his desk and, with a displeased expression, tapped on the touchpad of a small laptop. Furrowed brows, pursed lips, and an angry look. Clearly, the girl had upset him somehow, but no shouts were heard. Such good sound insulation?
"Hey, Executioner," he boomed, not looking in my direction. "Come in, what brings you here?"
"Well, I've saved up quite a bit of money, I want to invest in equipment," I reply and pull up a folding chair that was in the corner of the room closer to the merchant's table.
"Oh yeah?" he draws out thoughtfully. "Well, 'a lot' is a relative concept. Do you have anything in mind or will you choose?"
"I want to go to the scientists in Yantar and work for them, but it seems to me that my stalker suit isn't very suitable for those conditions, and at the same time, it would be nice to get a good gun. Something powerful, but not too heavy," I lay it all out for him.
"Yantar, you say," Sidorovich looks up from his computer and looks at me with respect. "You're growing, vagabond. Well, then. Let's start with the suit, it will be more complicated with that. I don't keep a warehouse of body armor for the North here, you know - there are hardly any buyers for them around, so I'll have to order it. Don't worry about that, I have all the connections and ways, it's just a matter of money."
"I'll say right away that my budget is one hundred and
thirty thousand," I state my financial capabilities, and the merchant pauses for a moment, considering the options.
"You won't be able to roam much," Sidor concludes. "If you want to save money, I can sell you some old suits, worn out, that is. I have a couple of SEVA suits, in varying states of disrepair, and one Bulat – a very good armored suit, but it's in the same condition as the first option. I'll give you everything for fifty grand, and some experienced technician can fix one of them up. And, forgive me, Executioner, but I can't sell them for less. For parts alone, each of them could fetch twenty to thirty grand."
"Then sell them to the technicians," I reply, thinking. System, can I repair these suits? And can I make something hybrid out of them?
"Repairing requires an expert-level repair skill, user! Creating a hybrid suit based on SEVA and Bulat requires expert-level repair and experienced-level science skills!"
"And why is that?" I ask mentally.
"You don't have enough knowledge for repairs of this level, user. Even with spare parts and the right tools, you won't be able to fully fix these suits – the technology level is too high. Regarding hybridizing these suits..."
"You don't need to continue," I mentally wave it off.
"The closest technician moved to the Dump, and I don't have the best relationship with him, as you know," Sidorovich replies. "And the others are too far away, and they have their own trade channels. So, are you buying?"
"Nah, is there any other option?" I shake my head. "It's not convenient to run around looking for a technician right now."
"I understand, time is money, as they say," the merchant laughs hoarsely. "For ninety thousand, I can order you a whole SEVA. Excellent thing, it holds up against radiation and anomaly zones like nothing else. But you won't be able to fight in it anymore – the built-in armor only stops a pistol bullet. If you add another thirty grand, I can order you a hybrid version, practically the same, but with a decent Class 4 body armor. But such a construction will weigh a lot."
"I agree to the second option," I nod, making a decision. After all, it's better to get a hybrid, you never know what trouble you might get into. "How long will the order take? And will ten thousand be enough for a weapon?"
"You'll have to wait a week, just give me your measurements so I can pass them on to the right people," Sidorovich replies and slowly gets up from his chair. "And don't worry about the gun, ten thousand will be just enough for everything."
The merchant disappears into the back room, searches for something there for a long time, before emerging into the light with something wrapped in fabric. Reaching the table, Sidorovich places the object on it and carefully unwraps it. It turns out to be a large revolver, about twenty-five centimeters long, with a rubberized grip and a polished steel body. The pistol itself lies in a holster. I slowly take out the heavy weapon, weighing about two kilograms, no less, and examine it. On the barrel, on one side, there are two worn inscriptions in English: "454 Casull" and "Raging Bull." I turn it in my hands, testing its weight, and open the cylinder. Five cartridges in total.
"A revolver for hunting bears straight from the States," Sidorovich says as I put the weapon back in the holster. "Just as you wanted. Powerful and relatively light. Consider it a compact shotgun, only it doesn't shoot buckshot."
"And how did such a beauty end up with you?"
"Y-yes, a shameful story," Sidorovich waves it off and sits heavily on the chair. A couple of seconds pass, the merchant's face smooths out, and he decides to tell the story. "Alright. About a year ago, a tourist from the States arrived for a safari – he wanted to shoot some local critters. He was a seasoned hunter himself, had gone after lions and elephants, but he knew nothing about the Zone. I assigned him a couple of lackeys, the more reliable ones, and sent them off for an adventure. They went a hundred, two hundred meters from the camp and... kaput. They ran into bandits. The tourist was killed immediately, and a little later, one of the stalkers, and the second one ran back to the village as fast as his legs could carry him. There, Wolf rallied everyone, and they eventually caught up with and punished the bandits."
"No one even wanted to keep such a piece?" I squint my eyebrows incredulously.
"They wanted to, but it's complicated to handle. You can't look cool shooting it, your arm will fall off. In short, it's not for those who can't even hold an assault rifle properly," the merchant chuckles. "And ordering ammunition will cost a pretty penny. But you're different. You know how to handle a weapon, you're an experienced stalker yourself, and you have money. Keep quiet. You spend today, you earn tomorrow. You've only been in the Zone for, what, two or three months, right? And you're already aiming for Yantar and spending such sums. Not every experienced stalker has held such a fortune in their hands at once."
"Well, let's say, how much do the cartridges for such a beast cost?"
"I don't know yet, kid," Sidorovich spreads his hands. "Revolvers of this caliber aren't common here, and I can't say right now how much a custom order of ammunition for you will cost. But don't worry, there are a little over forty bullets left from the tourist, enough for the first time, and then I'll order another fifty or a hundred. Deal?"
"Deal," I nod and start laying out all the money I have on the table for the merchant.
I came in handy, managed to get both a suit and a new weapon. And it's stylish and powerful, I'll be the coolest guy in the village. But it would be desirable to test it on someone, and dogs and boars won't do for that. I need something more dangerous. The Hunter said Chekhov has some job? So, I'll head to the Dark Valley.
"Alright, exactly one hundred and thirty," Sidor says, putting the money away. "Take the revolver now, and come back for the suit in a week. It's not a guarantee, of course, that it will arrive by then, but at least I'll know for sure when. And, Executioner, will you listen to me?"
"No problem, what is it?" I fasten the holster with the revolver to my leg, and the scattering of cartridges goes into my pocket. I'll stuff them into my vest later.
"Did you see the girl who came in before you?" he asks, and after waiting for a nod of agreement, he continues. "She has some business here. She's looking for either her brother or her boyfriend, it doesn't matter. She knows where to find him, she just needs an experienced stalker to escort her. It's not far, to the Dark Valley."
"So, why didn't others agree? The path is short, the places aren't that dangerous," I ask again. Even though it's on my way, it's strange that she couldn't find a guide earlier.
"It's not safe for her with others," Sidorovich shakes his head and tiredly wipes his face with his palm. "Some openly hit on her, others try to sneak up on her. I asked Wolf, some jerk even offered to guide her for free. And here, although the places are wild, and women are in huge deficit, such behavior is not approved by me personally. There are things, you know, that I can't overlook. And this is one of them."
"I understand, I approve of that approach," I nod with a slight smile. "And what exactly is required of me, and what's the payment?"
"You have to bring her to the Dark Valley safely and sound, wait until she finishes her business there, and return with her to the Cordon. The payment, heh-heh, you've already received it. A discount on my services," he smiles with a cunning squint, looking straight into my eyes. "By then, your suit should have arrived, and then you can go wherever you please. And, I know you're a good guy, but still, don't offend the girl unnecessarily, alright?"
"I agree, just answer one question. What's your motive in this?"
"Nothing at all," he waves it off. "She came a week ago, brought money – ten thousand dollars, and tearfully begged me to find at least one stalker to escort her. I tried, but you already know how it ended. She reminded me, you see, of my niece. I can't leave her in trouble. If you help her, bring her back, I'll return her cash and send her out of the Perimeter with a kick. Consider it me cleaning my karma."
"Understood, then I'll go prepare for the raid."
"I'll contact Wolf now to send her to your place!"
"Good!"
Rookie Village, some time later.
Liza sat on the soft grass between two basements, away from the campfire where a noisy company of stalkers had gathered. They kept casting interested glances at her, but didn't hurry to approach. She had turned many of them away on the first day, but the local men weren't in a hurry to lose hope, continuing to pester the girl with their absurd and foolish advances.
All she needed was to pass a couple of words to her wayward brother! And these guys... They sometimes looked at her with such hungry gazes that it made her uneasy. It was good that Wolf and Sidorovich had taken her under their wing, strictly ordering the others not to bother her, but... Deep down, the girl knew that as soon as she left the camp's territory, it would be the end of her. They would rape and kill her so the truth wouldn't surface. She couldn't go to her brother, nor could she leave without someone's help.
Liza had asked Wolf to escort her to the Dark Valley several times, but he always refused, citing that he couldn't leave the camp unsupervised for long. And she didn't know any other reliable stalkers. There was also the Hunter, an old man with a stern demeanor, but she didn't approach him. So, all that was left was to wait and hope that Sidorovich wouldn't stop feeding her for free. He had promised to help her, of course, but where would he find a normal person here?
"Liza!" Wolf called out loudly, emerging from his house in just
a t-shirt and sweatpants. A wide smile spread across the stalker's face. "That's it, your savior has been found!"
"Really?" she asked disbelievingly, getting to her feet.
"Yes," the stalker nods confidently, approaching her and helping her up. Then he takes her by the elbow and leads her towards the Hunter's house. "Sidor talked to the Executioner about you, he agreed to escort you to the Dark Valley and back."
"Executioner?" the girl says with even more uncertainty in her voice. Who even takes a nickname like that? A boor...
"Don't be afraid, the Executioner is one of the few sensible, but experienced stalkers here, he won't touch you," Wolf continues. "And he won't let anyone harm you. Neither mutants nor people. Just listen to him and do as he says."
"If he's so good, why didn't they send me to him right away?"
"Well, he only returned to the Cordon a couple of days ago and..." but here Wolf was interrupted.
"Hey, Wolf," greets them a stalker in a gray suit. The same one she saw in the merchant's basement. "And hello to you too, girl."
"Greetings," Wolf chuckles contentedly and shakes the offered hand. "Meet. Executioner, this is Liza, Liza, this is Executioner."
The girl shifts her gaze to her escort. Tall, fit, but you wouldn't say he looks very dangerous. Brown, slightly curly hair, thick eyebrows with a slight bend at the end, attentive green eyes with flecks of gray, a nose with a slight hump, and thin, rosy lips. His skin was clean, slightly pale, only under his left eye was there a neat mole. The man before her was quite handsome, but not her type. In any case, he looked much better now than in that basement.
"Nice to meet you," the Executioner says, extending his hand to Liza. She shyly reciprocates, and the stalker lightly squeezes her palm with his long fingers. "Shall we discuss our business inside?"
"Yes," the girl nods decisively. Finally, her task had moved forward!
"Alright, you guys do your thing here, and I'll go to my place, ugh!" Wolf interjects, yawning widely. "I'm suddenly so sleepy..."
Executioner's house, same time.
I open the door and let the girl in, telling her not to take off her shoes – I'll clean up later. She goes straight to the kitchen and sits on one of the chairs, waiting for me. I follow, looking at her, and realize that she looks much kinder now than half an hour ago during our first meeting.
"Tea, sweets?" I ask her, but she refuses. Then I won't have any either. "Well, tell me then, what's the matter."
"Didn't Sidorovich tell you?" she replies with a question.
"Only in general terms, that you need an escort."
"That's right. Denis, my brother, went into the Zone a couple of years ago and joined Freedom. We corresponded for a while until we had a big fight and he blocked my contact. Attempts to contact him through other people were unsuccessful," she says rapidly, clasping her hands together. "In short, I need you to take me to the Freedom base in the Dark Valley so I can talk to him, and then back to the Cordon. There's just one small condition."
"What is it?"
"We must go through the Dark Ravine!"
"Alright."
"And that's it? No words about how it's stupid and better to go through the Dump?" Liza arches her right eyebrow, looking at me searchingly.
"I don't care how I lead you. If you need to go through the Ravine, then we'll go through it. When will we set off?"
"Now."