Newbie Village, two days later.
In high spirits, despite the frankly bad weather, I leave the house, dragging
the protective container with artifacts behind me. Sid had a new shipment recently, and it should have included my new protective suit. I'll also find out about opening an account with the money Freedom gave me, and sell these artifacts. Of course, I knew that scientists could theoretically give more, considering that I plan to settle in Yantar soon, but I'll simply die if I try to drag it there. And the money, it's not a fact that it will be much more.
I see several stalkers loaded with things coming out of Sid's basement, among whom I notice Petrukha, holding a TOZ-34. He hugs his new toy like a boy and smiles happily. I briefly greet him and move on. At the entrance, as usual, Stas meets me and asks me to wait a bit – the merchant has other clients right now. Another ten minutes pass, which I spend discussing the latest news, before Sid's last customer leaves.
"Hello, Sid," I enter with a wide smile, dragging the container behind me.
"And to you, hunter," he greets me.
The merchant slightly rises from his seat, leans forward, and sits back with a smirk, rubbing his hands. The old man is clearly happy that I decided to sell the artifacts through him. Moreover, let's be honest, he's probably curious about what all the fuss was about. But first, the main thing.
"Did the suit arrive?"
"Of course," Sid chuckles briefly, rising from his seat and approaching a small grate to the right of his table, inserts a key into the lock and opens it. "And your containers arrived. Well, why are you standing there? Come in, I'm not going to carry things for you."
"You'll just let me in?" I say in surprise, raising my eyebrows.
"Why should I be afraid of you? I haven't crossed you, and you're not used to stealing," the merchant grins, letting me inside. "Go into that room, the suit is right there."
I cautiously walk further, hearing the grate slam shut behind me. I look around, noting that the back part of the room where Sid trades is larger than it seemed from across the counter – many cabinets and shelves with goods laid out, crates of ammunition on the floor, and medicine piled up on a table. I walk a little further and find myself in the merchant's private room with a large double bed made of two ordinary ones, a couple of refrigerators, a TV on the wall, and even a sofa, on which my new suit lay, looking very much like the game SEVA, but looking much more solid.
I take it in my hands, feeling its pleasant weight. The new suit is much heavier than my modified Zarya, but it's definitely worth it, especially the closed-loop breathing system with two steel tubes extending from it to the hermetic helmet. It will allow me to walk fearlessly through laboratories, chemical anomalies, and other places where such a system might be needed. Alas, because of this huge box that will hang on the back of the suit, I will have to give up my usual backpack in favor of a shoulder bag. However, a load-bearing vest and a couple of side pouches are also provided here.
First, I have to undress and then start dressing. I first pull on the lower part of the suit, fasten the belt, and take a short walk around the room to get a feel for it, it seems okay, but it's hard to say yet. Then, like a sweater, I put on the upper part, putting my hands into the long sleeves, and then connect the two parts with a hermetic and very strong fastener, which should ensure complete isolation of my body from the external environment.
I feel… like a diver. There's a hermetic helmet on my head, which, although it doesn't restrict my vision, feels incredibly unfamiliar for now, a heavy closed-loop breathing system on my back, and the suit in general fits me very tightly, without restricting movement. A good, reliable thing. And the thick body armor should serve me well.
In this state, I go out to the merchant, and he nods approvingly.
"There," he draws out. "Now you look not just like an experienced vagabond, but like a veteran stalker. It makes me want to give you some dangerous task… Will you take it?"
"I'd like to get a new bag and those two containers I ordered from you first," my voice in the hermetic helmet sounds very unfamiliar and hollow, echoing slightly in my own ears. I need to get used to it…
"A bag? Look in the wooden cabinet behind your back, you can take any," says Sid, then leans over the table and pulls out a couple of small metal containers from a large box. "Need help putting it on?"
"No, I'll do it myself," I reply and turn to the cabinet. I open it and see a full variety of bags and backpacks, but I choose the most ordinary and simple sports bag – over the shoulder. I adjust the strap so that the bag is under the SBD. I put the artifact containers in it for now. "What kind of work is it?"
"Nothing difficult for you," the merchant waves his hand. "Northeast of the Cord, beyond the forest, there is another small village. There is no direct path to it, no one has paved asphalt in that direction, and after the first explosion in '86, the dusty road has systematically overgrown. Currently, there are several hunter-stalkers living there, they shoot small animals, collect trophies, and bring them to me in thermal bags. In general, there is nothing truly dangerous there – you just have to cross the forest."
"Understood, and what's the task?"
"Go into an anomaly for an artifact," says Sid, turning around and taking several rolled-up papers from the desk drawer, among which he searches for a map of the area. "Here, take a look."
With a thick finger, he points to a small cluster of wooden houses, which are indeed not so far from us.
"Here is the anomaly, a very old one," Sid continues. "So, recently those hunters noticed a strange artifact in it. We checked my databases, but couldn't identify it. The chance that it will be something new and unexplored is high. Get it, okay? You have a detector, and a suit too. I can also give you an improved anomaly detector. If you act carefully, the task is feasible."
"And those hunters didn't go for it because they don't have the gear?" I raise an eyebrow. If there's simply an impassable wall of anomalies, then even I, with full scientific equipment, won't be able to get through.
"That too," the merchant nods readily. "But, I think they're more scaredy-cats. They shoot mutants with ease, but they're afraid to go near artifacts. They say some holy father protected them from misfortune. Pfft… So, do you take it?"
"Why not," I shrug. "And what about the reward for Krokhobor's documents and transferring my checks into real money on the account?"
"Reward…" the merchant turns to his desk again and takes out several packs of large cartridges suitable for my revolver, places them on the tabletop, and next to them – a pack of bills. "Here, angry and practical. And there were some difficulties with the account, I won't go into details, but it's better to postpone the account creation for now."
"That's sad to hear," I sigh. "Alright, let's sort out my artifacts, and then I'll go on your mission."
Newbie Village, half an hour later.
The artifacts were sold for a whopping one hundred and twenty thousand. Some were worth more on the black market, some less. But I found out the names of other, unknown ones: Mercury Ball, Fountain, Ring, Burdock, and Crayfish Eyes. Some outwardly matched the name, but I couldn't understand why Fountain was called Fountain.
I decided to keep the container itself for now, maybe I can find a use for it later. The plus from all this is that I gained the latest database of all artifacts found in the Zone. At the same time, it also listed the presumed artifacts that someone had seen but couldn't get or sell. There was also something that externally resembled a Compass. I wonder if they'll pay money for information on who currently has this artifact? Although… it's not worth putting Lesnik into the greedy hands of stalkers and mercenaries.
I chuckle to myself and quickly walk back to my own house, which is no longer completely safe for me after the theft incident. I decide to leave only the container here – it's empty and of little interest, except to sell it for twenty. The money, though inconvenient, I decide to take with me. It's better than worrying if it's been robbed during my absence.
The Wolf, of course, offered to help me acquire bear traps and even promised to get some explosives somewhere. Just in case. But I refused, realizing that such measures would only hinder me alone. I might accidentally forget and fall into the traps myself, and the same troublemakers could break a window or climb through the roof – you can't set traps for every possible route. And how can one live in such an environment? I'd just go mad… So the only way I could see for myself was to set up a hideout somewhere far from prying eyes. In a good place, where only I could get to.
But I still need to think about that carefully, and for now, I'll deal with Sidorovich's business. I'm preparing a supply of ammunition and provisions – I don't know how far that village is, it's quite possible I'll have to stop somewhere for the night. I'm stuffing the ammunition into my rig, and putting the food and drink into a new bag, which I immediately throw over my shoulder and let down, under the SZD. While doing all this in the suit, I even got a little out of breath from the unfamiliarity. And just as I was about to leave, someone knocked on the door. I open it and see a hesitant Petrukha on my porch, with two other stalkers behind him.
"Uh," the stalker says, looking at my new suit in surprise, and then greets me, the others repeating after him. "Hello, Executioner."
"And to you, lads. Did something happen, or did you just drop by?"
"Well, the merchant, when we were buying supplies from him, let slip that he has a job for you," Petrukha says, looking me straight in the eyes. "We want to know if we can go with
you?"
"You want to volunteer as my assistants?" I chuckle, crossing my arms.
"N-no, we're not after the money from the job," the stalker quickly shakes his head. "We want to learn the stalker's science from you. Wolf always said there's no better teacher than the Zone itself. And how can we get to know it if not under the guidance of an experienced stalker? We're green as green can be, we won't get far on our own, but with you..."
"Haa," I sigh, realizing what a headache might be hanging around my neck. But I don't want to refuse to help my fellow stalkers... However, what will happen if newcomers accompany me on such a short raid? "So be it. Only you, Petrukha, take my assault rifle, run it to Sidorovich, and get a shotgun with a supply of flechettes on deposit."
"And why?" he asks, taking the assault rifle from my hands.
"We'll have to go through the eastern forest, beyond the embankment, and there are plenty of mutants there, and a shotgun is the best solution against them."
"Understood," Petrukha nods readily and rushes towards the merchant's basement. I turn my gaze to the other stalkers.
Just some younglings. Completely green stalkers in leather jackets and, fortunately, simple body armor peeking out from their half-unzipped jackets. Both are armed with sawn-off shotguns and Makarov pistols, nothing unusual. Tall and lanky, with masks covering their faces up to their noses, so I can't see their faces in detail. I won't dwell on this.
"And what are your names?" I ask them.
"Vasya Zayats," the one on the right introduces himself, leaning against the fence.
"Girya," the one on the left replies curtly, running his fingers through his short-cropped hair. "And my name is Kirill."
"So, Girya and Zayats, understood," I nod to myself. "Been here long?"
"A few weeks," Vasya shrugs. "Some more, some less. Petrukha, he just came from Predbannik a week ago. And he's already joined Wolf's group."
"Wolf's group? First time I've heard of it..." I purse my lips, realizing I don't know something about my comrade.
"Well, it's only recently appeared," Zayats frowns, recalling. "About a week and a half ago. Wolf picked the best of us, trains us personally, and gives us various assignments within the Cordon. It's some kind of work and experience, after all."
"And how many people are in his group?"
"Wolf himself, Petrukha," the stalker begins to list and count on his fingers. "Zayats and I, Magarych, Terka, and Dnepr. Seven people in total."
"Interesting," I reply, noticing Petrukha fly out of the basement like a bullet and run towards us, holding a shotgun and several packs of cartridges. "Well done, I'll just sort out my rig and we'll go."
Novice village, a few minutes later.
"Alright," Palach's loud but clear voice boomed across the small courtyard of his personal house. "I have a few prepared rules for you that you must obey without question. First, you do everything I say, and exactly as it was said. Second, no unnecessary chatter, speak clearly and only to the point. If you want to ask something, ask, but it's not a guarantee I'll answer immediately. And third, no freelancing. I hope that doesn't need explaining?"
The three newcomers standing opposite the experienced stalker just shook their heads, peering into the dark glass of his helmet. Each of them understood that they had drawn a lucky card and were going on a trip with the almost legendary Palach, about whom many rumors circulated. And Petrukha was the happiest of all, secretly admiring this stalker who had managed to go from a greenhorn to a seasoned stalker in just over a month. And he wouldn't let anyone prevent him from gaining experience.
"I have a question," Petrukha raises his hand.
"Not so formally," Palach chuckles, gesturing for the stalker to lower his raised palm.
"What was the job the merchant gave? And where exactly are we going?"
"It's simple," their group commander replies. "Sidorovich asked me to get him an artifact that a group of hunters spotted in a village not far from here. And we'll have to go, as I said earlier, through the eastern forest, teeming with mutants. And I want to warn you right away that not all of them are ordinary boars, flesh or blind ones, there are specimens much worse and scarier."
Petrukha just nodded grimly and looked at his companions, who responded to Palach in the same way. They wouldn't be scared by tales of the Zone, how many different stories had they heard? And about underground laboratories that are still operating under the leadership of unseen creatures that have little in common with humans, and just about terrifying mutants. To be honest, most of the newcomers, although they were afraid to go beyond the Cordon without an experienced mentor, didn't believe in scary tales much.
The commander chuckled quietly, took the shotgun in his hands, and turned, heading towards the village exit. The stalkers, lining up, followed him. Petrukha went first, then Zayats, and Girya brought up the rear. Following the experienced stalker, they put on serious faces and even tried to copy his gait. A bit swaggering, but at the same time quick. As if a hurried master was walking on his own land, where everything and everyone was subject to his will. They didn't do a good job of it, which made most of the rest of the camp laugh at them, and only Wolf, looking at the backs of the departing squad, looked serious.
Cordon, later.
The weather had turned remarkably foul. The sky, overcast with gray clouds, seemed ready to burst into a downpour, and the howling wind, swaying the treetops, made the tree giants groan. All this boded no good for their squad, but Palach moved forward relentlessly.
Petrukha looked with surprise at the back of the stalker walking ahead of them. In such a strange suit, with a bag on his back and a weapon in his hands, he walked at such a fast pace that it was hard for them to keep up. That's what a real stalker means. Silent, attentive, and resilient. And how many anomalies had they bypassed in advance before they reached the forest edge? Sometimes Palach would start to zigzag, taking a step left, then a step right. At first, the stalkers didn't understand this move, but when Zayats' anomaly detector started beeping warningly, they exchanged surprised glances without slowing down.
"Does he have an anomaly scanner built into his suit?" was their shared thought.
Soon, as soon as their group passed the ruined houses opposite the old pig farm, a gloomy forest appeared on the horizon. The crowns of the trees, darkening under the cloudy weather, stretched upwards, looming over the people as if demonstrating their insignificance. At least, that's how it seemed to Petrukha, whose bravado had imperceptibly dissipated as soon as he saw the thicket of the dark forest, drowning in a dense and thick fog. And how would they even go through the forest in such weather, when it was pitch black?
And then, suddenly, a huge dog with a glossy white coat jumped out at them from the edge of the forest. A snarling muzzle, fangs the size of a finger, and thin threads of saliva dripping from them. The stalker saw all this in an instant, as soon as the mutant leaped out of the fog with a loud bark. The newcomers flinched in fear, recoiling in horror and clumsily raising their barrels to combat readiness. And then Petrukha's eyes widened, and he cursed mentally – Palach was in the line of fire, and the creature was already rushing at him with all its animal ferocity.
But his worries were in vain. The mutant, as if it had seen who was in front of it, braked sharply, but it was too late. And, sliding on the grass, slightly damp from the fog, the dog's nose tip hit Palach's thigh. For a brief moment, it froze, as if waiting for its fate, but, not waiting, it suddenly jumped up from its place and, tail tucked, ran back into the forest with a loud whine, glancing back at the stalker who continued to stand motionless.
"What the hell was that?!" Petrukha yelled internally, not daring to ask directly.
"Do you still want to go with me?" Palach asks them, turning over his right shoulder.