Happy New Year to you!
General Krylov's office, morning.
The leader of the Duty gloomily and tensely paced the office, his hands clasped behind his back. Blood churned in his veins, and his heart pounded. Something very bad was brewing, but what exactly... At that moment, Colonel Voronin entered the office without knocking.
"Reporting for duty, Comrade General," he said, giving a military salute, and stood opposite the leader's desk.
"Let's skip the formalities," Krylov sighed deeply, took out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, and lit one. "Tell me."
"Tonight, someone broke into the barracks and stabbed Sergeant Evseev," the colonel replied, looking directly into the angry general's eyes. "And carved something on the deceased's forehead..."
"I know that without you!" Krylov barked and extinguished his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray, then abruptly sat down on a chair and began tapping his fingers on the tabletop. "Sorry. What's the substance? Who? How? Did you question the others?"
"We did," Voronin exhaled heavily, averting his gaze. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" the general asked, raising his left eyebrow in surprise.
"No one saw or heard anything, there are no traces, the murderer took the murder weapon with him."
"What the hell," Krylov practically growled and slammed his fist on the table with all his might, causing the ashtray, a metal mug, and some of the stationery on it to jump. "A criminal breaks into our base, kills our soldier! In the middle of the night, as if he walked in and out of his own home! And you still haven't figured anything out, Comrade Colonel!?"
"Guilty, Comrade General," Voronin snapped, straightening up.
"May I enter, Comrade General?" someone behind the colonel asked cautiously, enunciating his words clearly, drawing the general's attention.
"What?" the general growled, flaring his nostrils and knitting his furrowed brows.
"Someone broke into the archive last night," said a young lieutenant, stepping forward. "I distinctly remember closing the door yesterday, and the documents are not arranged in the right order..."
"What specific documents?"
"Personal files of Captain Petrenko, Captain Zalupko, Sergeant Evseev, and Private Grishin," the Long-timer listed.
"Captain Petrenko is your deputy, isn't he?" the general asked Voronin and, after receiving a nod, continued. "I also remember Zalupko, the surname is, ahem, memorable. Sergeant Evseev was killed today, and Private Grishin?"
"Died in the line of duty two years ago," the lieutenant reported.
"So, listen," the general said, clapping his open palm on the table, standing up, and beginning to issue orders. "Lieutenant, go fetch Captain Petrenko here immediately, we'll figure out the connection. And you, Voronin, sit down. We have a long night ahead of us."
Fifteen minutes later, the same place.
"What do you mean, he left?" Krylov asked tiredly.
"The sentries say the captain gathered his personal belongings, ordered no one to be let in or out, and departed the barracks," the lieutenant recounted. "They say he was very tense, wiping sweat from his forehead. He left for the southeast, towards Nora."
"Sweat on his forehead," Voronin repeated word for word and addressed the general. "He was very worried, Comrade General. I've noticed this sweating on him more
than once when I had him by the balls."
"What you had the colonel by, and for what, concerns me last. I order you to mobilize two squads and comb the southeastern area, we must not let him get away!" Your head is on the line," Krylov said smoothly, and then a message arrived on his PDA. The irritated Long-timer turned on his communicator and read the text, then exhaled briefly. "Too late."
"Too late, Comrade General?" the colonel asked.
"Yes. One stalker, well-known to you, found the body precisely in the southeast, near an electrical anomaly. Take a squad and head to him, and get acquainted with him more closely."
"Do you order me to interrogate the stalker?"
"Act according to circumstances, Colonel. Execute."
Power lines near Nora, five minutes earlier.
Petrenko initially tried to resist, but what was his strength against the bloodsucker's might? The mutant, without much effort, held the Long-timer pressed to the ground while he drank his blood. And with each second, the life that still flickered in the human body gradually left him, and soon the stalker fell silent completely.
The bloodsucker moved away from the corpse, leaving threads of viscous fluid between its suckers and the victim's neck, until they burst, then turned to me, looking with apprehension. I glanced at him, noting that life had taken its toll on the bloodsucker standing before me. Typical appearance, only too thin, and with many scars all over his body. There were bullet wounds, claw marks, and bites.
"If you've eaten, then run," I waved my pistol briefly in the direction. "If I see you again, I'll shoot you."
The mutant, after glancing at me for a moment longer, finally turned and disappeared into the bushes from which he had emerged. I waited a couple more minutes before taking out my PDA.
Power lines near Nora, half an hour later.
A squad of Long-timers advanced cautiously, past the small trees and bushes that dotted the ground. Colonel Voronin led the way, clenching his AS Val in irritation. It seemed fate wasn't satisfied with one of the Long-timers dying at the hands of an unknown assailant right at the base, so the general had also given them a good dressing-down. The old man still had some fight left in him, indeed he did.
After a few more minutes, they finally reached the corpse of their comrade. Petrenko lay on his back, contorted, his glazed eyes fixed on the sky. Judging by the grimace on his face and a couple of bruises on his cheekbone, the Long-timer had met an unhappy end. But why hadn't he opened fire? Didn't he have time? His assault rifle lay a couple of meters from the corpse, and his pistol was in its holster.
Voronin knelt down, examining the deceased subordinate more closely. Deathly pale skin, cloudy whites of the eyes, and a terrible chemical burn on his exposed neck in the shape of tentacles. A bloodsucker. At this point, human influence on Captain's death could be ruled out, but it shouldn't be completely forgotten.
Then Voronin looked up at the cluster of electrical anomalies, where the stalker who had summoned them was currently located. The stalker, with a Bear in his hands, navigated flawlessly between the anomalies without bolts, as other wanderers usually did, until finally, under the very support of the power line, he found an artifact glowing with a steady blue-white light, in the shape of an octahedron with white stripes on dark blue facets. Show-off.
"Oh, you've arrived just in time," the stalker said with a slight smile, calmly emerging from the cluster of electric anomalies. It seemed the situation didn't bother him in the least. "Do you need anything else from me? The General only asked me to wait for you."
"Answer me a couple of questions, stalker," the colonel stood up, looking the stalker up and down with a sharp, keen gaze.
An ordinary stalker, like many others. A gray jumpsuit, slightly thicker than what his brethren usually wore. Apparently, reinforced. A full backpack on his back with an axe hanging from a strap, a worn Kalash on a strap, and the handle of a Ford sticking out of a belt holster. No better and no worse than other stalkers. But the expression on his face was strange. Nothing bothered him at all. Neither the corpse, which he glanced at lazily, nor the armed and tense Duty squad, tightly gripping their weapons. Absolute calm.
"What's your name?" Although Voronin knew his nickname, it was worth confirming.
"Executioner," the stalker replied softly, looking directly at the colonel with his green eyes.
"A fearsome nickname," he chuckled. "How did you get it?"
"I cut off a bloodsucker's head with an axe."
"The one hanging on your back?"
"No, I took this one from Orest."
"And what happened to the original one?"
"Threw it away as unnecessary."
"And now, it seems, it's needed?"
"Yes, there's a lot of game here, it's more convenient for me to butcher it with an axe."
"So you're a hunter, then? You know a lot about bloodsuckers?"
"I know a little."
"How did you find the body?"
"I was heading here for artifacts, then I heard a scream, and when I arrived, I saw the body and contacted Krylov."
"Did you know there was an artifact here?"
"Colonel, I love quizzes very much, but let's talk specifics," the stalker said, exhaling sharply, without any irritation. Strange. "I didn't see or hear anything, except for your comrade's scream. And I don't understand why you're bothering me with these stupid questions now."
"It seems you're not surprised by the corpse at all, are you?" Voronin said, peering into the calm eyes, trying to latch onto something.
"What's there to be surprised about? It's a corpse. And the Zone is such a place, there's a lot of dead stuff scattered in the corners here," the stalker shrugged.
"Did you take anything from the corpse?"
"No," Executioner shook his head.
"And what if I order you to be searched?"
"Search me," Voronin ordered, still peering into Executioner's face.
But the stalker chuckled calmly and dropped his backpack to the ground, walking closer to a couple of Long-timers who stepped forward and began to search him. Money, a flashlight, matches, a razor-sharp hunting knife, nothing unusual.
"He's clean, Comrade Colonel," the sergeant reported.
"I see," Voronin said, after carefully examining the stalker once more, and could only exhale through his teeth: "You're free, stalker."
The factory, a little later.
Batut was nervous, and his mood was slowly and gradually transmitted to the rest of the team. Executioner had left the night before and still hadn't returned. And the bitterest part was that no one knew exactly where he might have gone. And searching the entire Agroprom would require more people than they had. Clenching his fists painfully, Batut abruptly detached himself from the wall and headed for the exit of the factory hall.
"Hey, where are you going?" asked Kirpich, who had been squatting and reading something on his communicator until then.
"To look for him, where else," Batut snapped nervously, turning his head towards the speaker as he walked, but immediately bumped into someone. "Hey, don't you see where you're going..."
"It's you who isn't looking where you're going," the lost commander said with a smirk, grabbing the stalker's right wrist and placing something in his palm. "Don't lose it again."
And, nodding in greeting to the other stalkers, he went up the stairs. Batut slowly shifted his gaze to the metal object, pleasantly cool against his skin, and his eyes widened in pleasant surprise. His father's flask, engraved by his comrades. The very one he had long given up hope of getting back. But how?
Second floor of the factory.
"Hey, Drozd, how much for the Battery?" I asked loudly, pulling an artifact out of my backpack as I walked.
"Eight, and only because of your reputation," the merchant said with a big smile, taking the artifact from my hands, turning it around, and after looking at it, giving me the money. All eight thousand. "Anything else?"
"Will you buy my rifle?"
"What's wrong, have you appreciated all the charms of a simple Kalash?" Drozd asked slyly.
"Not without that," I replied. "So, for how much?"
"Well, its condition is good, it has ammunition too, it's a shame we don't have any skilled shooters in our gang, but... it'll do. How about twenty-five? I understand it's worth more, but I don't have an unlimited supply of money, you know."
"Will you add a thousand if I give you the remaining ammo?"
"Ay-y, I'll add two, here you go."
Having enriched myself by over thirty thousand, I decided to get some fresh air, so I headed outside to walk around the factory grounds and think about the future. But as soon as I descended, Batut blocked my path, hugging me tightly. I could even notice droplets of tears in the corners of his eyes. I felt a little better, knowing I had done a good deed. I patted him lightly on the back and disentangled myself from his embrace, then went outside.
I didn't fully know if I had done the right thing by dealing with those Long-timers. I didn't know if it would have been enough to just take the flask from Evseev and threaten him. I didn't know... A melancholic mood fell upon me as I walked around the factory buildings, occasionally stepping over discarded construction debris, until my feet led me to a forgotten platform.
I climbed onto it again and, breathing slowly and deeply, began to walk along the abandoned freight car. Somewhere deep down, I understood that I had done the right thing. Just stealing the flask wouldn't have been enough, especially since Evseev would have immediately suspected who could have done it. And then they would have caught us. A search, unnecessary questions, and a lot of problems. I could have bought it back, but... that was just a ridiculous idea.
I also had to get rid of Petrenko. It's not right to leave enemies behind. Today you
pity him, and tomorrow he'll throw you into a pit with hungry dogs, completely unarmed. But dealing with people so cruelly was... unpleasant. I felt something similar after that fateful night for Yogi's gang, only I pushed those thoughts away. I kept telling myself that it wasn't the time or place for them. Later.
I stopped and closed my eyes, feeling the warm, light, and pleasant breeze on my body. Was nature itself, or even the Zone, trying to cheer me up? Hah, unlikely. I couldn't become a hostage to false idols and rose-colored glasses if I wanted to get out of here. But did I want to?
An unexpected thought pierced me like lightning. Did I want to get out? I don't know. If you had asked me a month or even a month and a half ago, I would have been sure of a positive answer, but now? Now I have a life here. Filled with dangers and adventures, friendship and betrayal, money, adrenaline, and everything that I might not experience on the mainland.
I'm already hooked on this drug, and with every second spent here, it seems to me that I'll never get off it. Apparently, my direct path is with Strelok, to NIICH AZ. Why not? I think I'd make an excellent field operative, or even higher. I just need to brush up on science, and I'd need a corresponding education...
And at that moment, the Emission struck. The earth trembled, and the sky gradually began to turn crimson, and I hurried to take shelter from it under the concrete vaults of the factory.
Krylov's office, shortly before the Emission.
"Report, Colonel," the general said seriously, putting aside a stack of documents.
"Captain Petrenko is dead," Voronin began to recount. "He was attacked by a bloodsucker. Near the body, the captain's personal backpack was found with a lot of cash, some documents, and two PDAs. One of them is his work PDA, the second is password-protected, I've already given it to the technician. And in his jumpsuit pocket, I found this note."
"Hmm, 'run, or I'll kill you'," Krylov said, his gaze sweeping over the crumpled piece of paper, and reached for his cigarettes. "Accomplice, hmm... What do you think?"
"I suspect that the captain might have been involved in unauthorized activities behind my back. And Sergeant Evseev was always close to him, they started their service in our ranks together. It's not surprising that one pulled the other into dirty schemes."
"I'm sure that's the case, Colonel," the leader of Duty said, exhaling a whole cloud of smoke. "Second PDAs don't just appear out of nowhere. It even brought back a childhood memory, how I got a second diary for bad grades... It's too early to say anything until the PDA is deciphered, but the situation is turning out to be a mess. What about our new acquaintance?"
"Strange," Voronin replied, twitching his cheek involuntarily. "And very complicated. He carries himself somehow..."
"Distant, yes?" his interlocutor chuckled. "I noticed that too. What else?"
"He walks silently. Even knowing he's nearby, it's impossible to hear the sound of his footsteps, I checked when he left us," the colonel continued, recalling his sensations. "In general, the corpse didn't bother him. Zero attention, as if it were dust under his boots."
"Do you think he caused the massacre at our place?"
"I think he's capable of it, but there's no evidence against him, except for a chain of coincidences," Voronin shrugged, truly not knowing what to think. "Kolobok said that Palach's group almost had a conflict with Evseev, but the stalkers left the base almost immediately and didn't return. And in general, lately, nothing at our base happens without this stalker."
"We won't dismiss this version, Colonel. But first, let's see what Gromov finds on Petrenko's PDA. You're dismissed."