"Well, when will they get here?" Ozhog asks Orest and, grimacing and spitting on the ground, kicks the controller's corpse in the ribs, almost flipping it onto its stomach. "They're taking too long."
"They were looking for shovels," the leader of the local stalkers sighs. "Drozd hid them somewhere far away last time. Ha-a... And you, Executioner, what do you think?"
"I have a strong desire to throw a bundle of grenades in there," I say, pursing my lips and looking at the deep hole again. "I really don't want to crawl in there."
The recess in the cliff face from which the controller emerged was small. About a meter high and wide, maybe a little less. Clearly, the snarks worked on it, they are known for their love of digging. I tried to shine a flashlight inside, but saw nothing but earth, clay, and hanging root systems; the tunnel turned right, going somewhere far away. I had no desire to crawl in there, let alone fight in such a confined space.
"What if there's something valuable in there?" Pale suddenly interjects, coming closer to me and peering into the darkness. "It would be a shame to miss it."
"Not for me," I snort briefly and take a grenade from my pouch, then walk closer to the tunnel, bend down, pull the pin, and throw it around the corner.
A few seconds later, there is a loud explosion, and the cliff face we were standing in front of partially crumbles and settles. No matter how good the burrows the snarks dug were, they couldn't argue with a grenade. Besides, besides bones and corpses, we would hardly have found anything valuable or important in there. I'm sure of it.
"That's all," I say and turn to Orest, who is leaning against one of the small trees in the hollow. "What's next?"
"We'll wait for the guys to bring the shovels, and then," he pauses a little and looks at the dead stalkers in their suits. "We'll bury the fallen. I don't want to leave their bodies to be torn apart by creatures, they don't deserve it."
"You don't even know them," Pale remarks and, clicking his tongue, addresses me. "It's a shame you did that to their lair, I heard you can often find something valuable there."
"Whether I know them or not, it doesn't matter," Orest frowns, his dark eyebrows drawing together. "Every person has the right to peace after death, no matter who they were in life. In any case, it's certainly not up to us to decide who deserves what."
"And about the lair," I begin after the silence that has fallen. "I don't know who told you about treasures, but there are none there. I've been in one like it at the Garbage. There was nothing but corpses. The snarks dragged them there to eat later. And even if there were no mutants there now, sooner or later some creature would have appeared and settled in the ready-made place. And then it would all start over."
Pale, blushing, mutters something quietly to himself and turns away. I, meanwhile, approach the controller and examine it. Mmm, I shouldn't have shot it in the head, I could have sold it for more, but like this... I don't even know what price Mityai will give.
"Listen, Orest," an unexpected idea comes to mind. "Can I take the controller's body?"
"Of course," he replies.
"And will you lend me a couple of your guys? To drag it to your base."
"Certainly, but why?"
"I have someone in mind to whom I can sell it."
Agroprom Factory, an hour later.
The stalkers remaining in the camp, judging by their faces, were very impressed by our joint trophy. And many of them didn't even know what kind of mutant had been defeated, after all, a controller is one of the rarest spawn of the Zone.
We finally reach the factory hall, where Orest's stalkers, loaded down, carefully place the body on the tiled floor. Initially, I wanted to refuse the reward their leader offered me, but after assessing the scope of work, I asked him to pay the loaders with it for careful delivery. It would have been a great loss to drag the body across the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Oh, and here come the next delivery men.
"Guys, over here," I call out loudly to my team, descending from the second floor. "There's a profitable job."
"What is it?" Kirpich asks, stopping opposite me and looking at the corpse. "What's this monster?"
"This is our merchandise, which you will have to take to the Duty base."
"Take it? How? It's quite a haul..."
"I'll give each of you ten percent of the sale price of the body. I'll tell you right away, this is a very rare mutant."
"We're in," the squad of stalkers replied almost in unison, except for Nemoy, who chuckled merrily.
Duty Base, an hour later.
At first, the guys were very enthusiastic and grabbed the controller's arms and legs with enviable zeal, though by the end of our walk, there was hardly anything left of it. The stalkers were sweating and changed every few dozen meters; no matter what you say, the mutant, although it didn't look very impressive, weighed no less than a normal person of the same height.
In general, I should have worried about whether the Duty would let us into their base. After all, they had some problems last night, and we might be turned back, but hindsight is twenty-twenty. So all that remained was to hope that everything would be settled.
We were already approaching their northern checkpoint when we were noticed and hailed:
"Halt, stalker scum!" a broad-shouldered Duty member with a noticeable belly, not hidden even by his thick suit, bellows. "Where are you headed? Passage is forbidden!"
"Why so?" I ask, raising one eyebrow, and signal the guys to put the corpse on the ground.
"There was an emergency," he grumbles in response. "What business do you have?"
"Well, I wanted to offer the Inquisitor an exhibit for his exhibition," I nod towards the monster lying on the ground. "My name is Executioner, by the way."
The Duty member, after giving me a long look, steps forward. Approaching us, he walks around the corpse, examining it carefully and pursing his lips. Having looked his fill, he stands level with me, and a light breeze of strong cigarettes, which this stalker clearly abused, reaches me.
"Good work," he says with a degree of respect. "Did you handle it yourselves?"
"Yes."
"Alright," he continues after a pause and points his thick finger at my chest. "You, as I see, know our guys, right? So. For a small reward, I'm willing to contact the chief and request passage for you through our territory, but no further than the Inquisitor, understood? Naturally, I promise nothing, but without my, ahem, help, you won't get this corpse anywhere."
"How much?" I sigh, realizing where this is going.
"Let's say," the Duty member thinks and looks around at the other guards. "Five thousand."
"Here, take it, it's not a shame for Duty," I hand him a pack of crumpled bills with a wide, feigned smile. It's a shame I only found out about you now.
"Oh, that's more like it!" he exclaims and stretches his lips into a smirk, revealing yellowed, crooked teeth. "Wait here, I'll be right back. It'll take five minutes, no more."
I watch his corpulent figure all the way to the fence until the Duty member disappears from view, and only then do I sigh deeply. So, I've spent the money from selling the artifact. Mmm. I didn't think I'd have to fork out money for the right to pass. The thought even crossed my mind that I could contact Krylov, but that's not the best idea. The general is probably busy with much more important matters than giving orders to guards. And it's somehow not good to distract him with such trifles.
"I don't like these Duty guys," Batut grumbles grimly behind me. "The most normal one is Kolobok."
"Yeah," Trotil agrees. "One of the few who didn't look at us like shit. And that sergeant, what's his name? Belozerov? He's a normal guy too, no quirks."
"Belazov," his brother corrects Kirpich. "But you're right, they're all kind of arrogant. They look at us like dirt under their boots, it gives me goosebumps. And why? We didn't spit in anyone's porridge this morning and didn't do any harm, but still..."
"Really?" I ask in surprise, turning to them. "As far as I'm concerned, they're normal. Yes, there are a couple of freaks, but otherwise..."
"Good morning, commander," one of the brothers replies to me with a slight sadness. "Naturally, they talk to you normally, you helped them. But we're just street scum. They can roll their eyes, sigh when they see us, and look at us in a way that could sour beer."
"Uh," Kirpich continues for his suddenly silent brother. "Boss, don't think we have any complaints about you. It's just unpleasant to experience this firsthand."
"I understand," I say dully. And what was I expecting? I knew that in the canon, the Duty don't really favor stalkers.
The small patch of old asphalt road where we were is plunged into complete silence – everyone was thinking their own thoughts. But, as the Duty member had said, we didn't have to wait long for him. True, he almost ran towards us, which made him very out of breath, and his expression was very strange. A mixture of embarrassment and something unpleasant.
"Executioner, why didn't you say who you were right away! Come in, of course, we're always happy to see you!" he exclaims loudly as soon as I'm a couple of steps away, and returns the bills I gave him. And then, as if confirming the guys' words, he turns to them and adds: "Ah, and you... you can come in too."
"What was that?.." Batut whispers loudly in surprise, to which I simply shrug.
"I don't know. And, by the way, don't shine your flask around here. You never know."
"Got it."
We reached the Inquisitor's shack without any problems. Past the shooting range, we turned left and went through
a slightly ajar gate in a chain-link fence, put there for some unknown reason. Next, we entered the building itself, which was already familiar to me, and the guys dragged the body deeper into the second room, carefully laying it right at the feet of the Duty long-hauler.
He, his eyes widening slightly, leaned forward to get a better look at the specimen they'd brought. He clicked his tongue, running a finger over the bullet hole on the mutant's forehead, but overall, it was clear he was extremely pleased with what he'd received, as a wide smile spread across his face. Then, he pulled back from the mutant, returning to his original position, and turned his gaze to me.
"I thought such a beast would fit well into your collection," I said, nodding towards the taxidermied specimens. "Want it?"
"Ha, you bet!" The Inquisitor grinned and reached for his breast pocket, pulling out a small notepad. "Will fifty be enough? I'd pay more, but I'll have to patch up its wound, and you can't sell the brain for much."
"That's fine," I agreed, and a few seconds later, I took the check he'd written for the stated amount, signed, from his hands. I handed it to the Silent One. "Go to the building opposite, you'll get the money there. And we'll be going, I suppose. Goodbye, Inquisitor."
"Wait," the Duty long-hauler called me back. "Will you answer a couple of questions?"
"No problem."
"First, I want to say thank you very much for bringing him to me and not to Mityay," the Inquisitor sighed and continued. "He'll make an excellent teaching aid for the rookies. Some of them, ugh, when they see a controller, either don't recognize it and charge headfirst like it's a regular mutant, or they think it's just a regular person. 'A bit scarier than usual.'"
"Uh," I twitched my cheek and glanced at the mutant's corpse. It was a stretch to call it human.
"That's how I reacted too when I heard that!" the man exclaimed, slapping his knee with an open palm. "What utter idiocy, Lord! Anyway, thank you, hunter. So, where did you dig him up? They're almost non-existent in these parts. Meeting one of these in the south... is very bad luck. Or good luck, depending on how you look at it."
"I'll tell you even more, Inquisitor," I said, stepping a little closer and crouching down. "This is the second controller I've killed on Agroprom. I dealt with the first one when I was crawling through the subway on your superiors' assignment, and this one dug in in the northeast, beyond the railway tunnel. He assembled a gang of snorks and dogs and terrorized stalkers, sending waves of mutants at them. It's not a cheerful trend emerging."
"Mmm," the Duty long-hauler's face grew darker with each word I spoke. "These are uneasy times. First bandits, then mutants. After the recent Great Emission, they've gone mad and are crawling out of every crack, you can only shoot the bastards as fast as you can. Thanks for the news, hunter, I'll definitely pass it on to our guys so they're more careful on raids."
"See ya."
"And to you, a good journey, hunter," the Inquisitor replied from behind me.
But as soon as I stepped out of the building, I ran into my scowling guys, who had managed to get outside while I was talking. Standing in front of them was the familiar Colonel Voronin, his arms crossed behind his back, staring straight ahead with a cold expression.
"Hello again, Executioner," the Colonel said, pursing his lips at the sight of me.
"Yeah," I replied with a nod and looked at my men. "What's going on here?"
"Nothing," Voronin answered concisely instead of them. "Let's go, Krylov wants to see you."
"You can go back to Orest's base, I'll catch up," I told the guys, heading off with the long-hauler.
"We'll wait here," I heard them call back.
I couldn't help but notice the Colonel's gait. He walked calmly and steadily, as if measuring each step, but it wasn't a march. As we neared the main building, he paused and turned his head towards me.
"How much did Sergeant Plesh ask you for passage?" he asked grimly.
"Five thousand," I casually ratted out the bribe-taker.
"That... bastard," the Duty long-hauler exhaled through his teeth, and we continued on our way.
As usual, I handed over my weapons to a couple of Duty members at the entrance and followed Voronin, who headed for the left staircase. As soon as we reached the top floor, the Colonel let me go ahead, stepping behind me, and I saw that there was no guard. Chuckling, I entered the half-open door of the general's office and found its owner, his hands clasped in front of him. Krylov, frowning, was clearly worried about something, which was understandable. I turned my head and saw Voronin enter behind me, still staying behind me.
"Hello, son," Krylov greeted me drawling, unlacing his hands and leaning back in his chair.
"Greetings, Comrade General," I blurted out quickly. "Why did you call me?"
"Oh, just to see you," the general began to tap his finger lightly on the thick tabletop. "To understand what this is. Insolence, stupidity, or something else."
"I don't quite understand what you're talking about."
"And I'll explain everything, don't worry," the leader of Duty slowly stood up and approached me, looking directly into my eyes with his sharp, attentive gaze. "We had a bit of trouble at the base. Imagine, my soldier was slaughtered like a pig right in his bunk. And no one, you understand, saw or heard anything. But not only did this scoundrel kill my man, he also broke into the archive. And rummaged through my documents. True, he didn't find anything valuable, but that wasn't his goal. This person was looking for the accomplices of his victim – Sergeant Evseev. And he found them. However, two of them were already dead by then, only one remained – Captain Petrenko, whom you know, and whose corpse you reported this morning. So, a very interesting picture is emerging..."
"What picture?" I asked, my voice slightly hoarse, tensing instantly.
"This one," the general grinned, but then a message arrived on Voronin's PDA. "What is it?"
"They found lockpicks in his backpack," the Colonel replied from behind me.