"Halt!" The warning came, loud and dry, coupled with the mechanical clicking of weapon safes being removed. "Who goes there?"

A reflector was turned on. The strong light pierced the darkness to reveal a man clad in a huge black exoskeleton, holding a Vintorez rifle over his head with both hands.

"I'm the Marked One," the man replied.

The Duty men in charge of the checkpoint were amazed. "It's okay, come closer," the man in charge said. "What are you doing here?"

"You found the Brain Scorcher?" Another stalker asked.

"What did you wish for?"

"How did you get past the Monolith?"

"What happened over at the Brain Scorcher?"

The Marked One raised his hands again, slowly. "All in good time. Let me grab a damn beer first. I'm tired and it's been a long way."

The Duty squad leader nodded understandingly. "Yeah. Sorry, man. Everyone's talking about you and what you did over there." He stepped aside to let the armored stalker through.

"You'll all know soon enough. I need a break first." Tiredly he walked forward. The Duty men clapped him on his shoulders and back as he went. Someone spoke over a radio, telling the news: the Marked One is here. Strelok sighed.

He made his way through the streets and the sheds. His hulking figure drew glances from the many groups of stalkers around; they would look at him in silence and whisper quietly once he had went past them.

And then, at last, he came to the stairs leading into the 100 Rads bar. The guard at the checkpoint also looked at him. In awe. But said nothing, merely gesturing him to come in.

He walked into the bar proper, and there he was. "So, Marked One, welcome back." Guide raised his bottle in toast. "Good thing you got your memory back and returned to tell the tale."

"Yeah. You don't know the half of it." Wearily he dropped his backpack beneath the table and signaled Barkeep for a drink.

"Enlighten me, then. Last thing I heard, you were heading straight into a battle between the Army and those Monolith maniacs." The rugged, elderly baldman appraised him. New scars were etched in his face, and many wrinkles had settled around his eyes and in his forehead. His eyes were glazed, lifeless. He had all the looks of somebody who had lost his mind and barely managed to get it back. "Doc didn't expect you to make it back. He said he told you everything you had said about the Monolith was true."

Strelok shook his head in denial.

"We believed no one who went into the station ever returned, so we presumed they died there. They do come back, but as Monolith cultists... the damn thing's an illusion manufactured to brainwash stalkers into serving this... entity or whatever's its name." He closed his eyes for an instant; the memories of the pitched gunfight in the bowels of the ruined station flooded in. "I used the decoder on the door... it led into a maze crammed with Monolith goons. Then, into a room with some kind of dynamos. And, ahhh... I think it was a hologram of the monolith."

He fell silent, his eyes dead. Guide eyed him expectantly. "And?"

He offered Strelok the vodka, but he refused it with a dry gesture. "I break the dynamos, and this hologram vanishes. Then, the image of a man in a labcoat shows up." Strelok shook his head again. "I still can't come to grips with what this ghost told me. Something about a 'knowsphere' or some other bullshit..." Deliberately he chose not to tell Guide what the C-Consciousness had told him about his role. He wasn't ready to share that. Yet. "It is supposed to contain the reflections of the emotions and knowledge of the whole human race. He... it... tried to sell me this story of how it tried to improve mankind by removing negative ideas and feelings from this 'knowsphere.'"

Guide arched his eyebrows. "Farfetched even by Zone standards if you ask me. Speaking of which..."

"Hold on, I'm coming to that." Barkeep came with a bottle and two glasses.

"Some irish beer I've been saving for special occasions," he said. "It's on me. Great to see you again, Marked One."

"Thanks. Got a load of stuff you could find buyers for."

"As usual from you. Many people made it to Pripyat?" Strelok snorted.

"Lots. But I don't know how many will make it back. Between Duty, Freedom, the Monolith lunatics and the Army..." The stalker shook his head slowly. "It's like some twenty-first century Stalingrad."

"Well," Barkeep said, clapping him hard on his shoulder, "you returned. Come by later, 'kay? You can show me what you got and have a little chat..." Curiosity sparkled in the man's eyes. Strelok needed not to ask what he wanted to know. What am I going to do with this whole wish crap?

"I'll do that."

After Barkeep had returned to his place behind the bar, Guide whispered, "How odd it is that you are still known as the Marked One."

Strelok shrugged.

"Strelok is the subject of legends now... While I was amnesiac and running all over the Zone looking for clues about 'this Strelok guy', I heard all manner of things." He grunted with grim amusement. "Like some folk legend of sorts. The Marked One is much better known."

"And has built quite a reputation, I hear. Both the guys here and at the army warehouses would like to count you as one of their number." Guide accepted the glass Strelok offered him.

"Cheers," he toasted. The beer was thick, rich in flavor, and easy on the throat. "I'm not a big fan of either. I'd rather stay on good terms with both."

"I'll drink to that." Guide emptied his glass. "So... what are you going to do about this Monolith scam?"

Strelok toyed with his drink. "Either I go public or lay low. The bastards running it have moles all around the Zone. 'Sides... it's not like I'm going to get much attention. Just another moron that ran too close to the Brain Scorcher."

"Maybe. And maybe not. You haven't been around enough to know that everyone speaks of you as the person responsible for shutting down the Brain Scorcher in the first place. That lends credibility to your word, don't you think? If someone would know..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture." He emptied his glass and refilled it. "I could just as easily paint a target on my head."

"Not that a bullet would hurt you much, with that walking tank you're wearing and all the baubles you are carrying," Guide retorted in a low voice. "But a grenade would do the job, that's true." He stopped a moment and studied Strelok again. He had always been the reckless risk-taker, even after surviving through ordeals that had driven most other stalkers to death or insanity. "Bear in mind that you have some renown. Barkeep doesn't greet much people that way," he said making a vague gesture towards the man. "A party with something to gain with your demise wouldn't have to look too hard to find you. And no artifact can protect from a killer dedicate enough."

Strelok recognized the truth of this. He sipped the beer again as he thought.

"Then I guess I'll have to pay Voronin a visit."

"And Lukash."

"Yeah." He was about to ask Guide about the current relationship between both factions, but the firefight on the Red Forest jumped to his mind. "Getting those two hardheads to cooperate on anything will be harder than..." He sought an adequate comparison, but couldn't think of one. He cursed silently and shrugged; Guide nodded, understanding him. They both stood at the same time:

"I was considering to return to the Big Land," Guide said, as he grabbed his backpack, "but I can't leave behind a friend in need." Strelok's lips curved in the barest hint of a smile. He clapped the elderly baldman in a shoulder, hard.

"Shame about Ghost and Fang. We could surely have used them now."

"True. But I think... I think finding replacements shouldn't be too hard."

"You sure don't waste your time, do you?"

They thanked Barkeep and slowly walked their way out to the street. Guide was right, of course. Even more so now that the news of his arrival had spread like wildfire: whenever he came across someone, they followed him with their eyes, some of them with respect, some of them with awe. A couple of Dutyers next to the arena saluted him as they passed by.

He was going to turn right, but Guide bade him to go the other way. "I want you to meet somebody."

They entered the warehouse Strelok went through often in his way to Rostok or to Freedom territory; this time, a lone stalker was waiting near the door, fully dressed in black stalker gear.

"Strelok..." Guide said intentionally in a low voice, so as to make his identity unmistakably clear, "meet Chasme."

The man took off his gasmask and looked at Strelok in amazement.

"You?" The Marked One was dumbstruck. Chasme grinned widely and fiercely hugged him.

"That's a thank you for not playing into the military's hands by smoking off an AWOL," he said.

"Does Barkeep know? He was the one who hired me for that gig in the first place."

"Oh yeah, he knows. But that's a story, I guess, nowhere as interesting as yours."

"Guide will fill you in with everything you want to know later. Tell me what happened to you."

"Oh, you see... after you left, I tried to make a run for it and steal the car back. I found it was much closer to the road than where this prick had left it... was it you?" Strelok nodded with a grin. "That's another thing I have to thank you for. As well as the ammo and all the stuff you didn't take from the bandits and the soldiers you wiped out."

"Um, yeah..." The Marked One shifted uneasily.

"Oh, don't worry, you did the world a service by killing that bunch, they were all thieves and gangsters in disguise." Guide turned around and started walking out the hangar in the way of the Duty base, and his two companions set off after him without thinking. Chasme continued: "I drove all the way from Agroprom to the warehouse near the junkyard, and I arrived just in time for another gunfight."

"Let me guess. Damn raiders again trying to take the warehouse."

"You got that right. I helped out the stalkers in the warehouse doing some quality sniping," he replied with an evil smirk, "and when they saw my outfit they almost flipped out; took a long chat to convince them not to off me. Some guy by the name of Seriy was kind enough to give me something to wear other than my uniform and a password for the Duty checkpoint."

"So Seriy is racking up points with Duty... check that out. How's he doing?"

Guide purposely slowed down and let them overtake him, wanting to have a clearer picture of the conversation; he was relieved to see that his call had not been a mistake.

"He's in charge of a bunch of loners there. Can't say much more, I didn't get to hear a lot while I was around there. He's trying to turn the place into a fort or something, but they're constantly harassed by bandits and raiders so he hasn't had much of a chance to do any serious work."

"Shit... oh well, it's as good a place as any to do some good. What're you packing? And where are your weapons?"

Chasme pulled the black fabric of his suit. "Standard issue stalker outfit." He grinned. "Barkeep's got a soft spot for me. Call it guilt for setting you on my trail. He keeps my stuff while I'm around... a scoped AKM, a Pernatch, a Saiga and a few grenades. Nothing as fancy as yours," he said jokingly as he eyed Strelok's exoskeleton and Vintorez. The Marked One whistled silently:

"He feels guilty alright. I say you milk him for all he's worth... I never knew anyone who got treated like that by Barkeep." A moment's thought, and then: "That'll do for the moment, but we need to work on that."

They were near the sandbagged entrance to the Duty headquarters now. Oddly enough, Petrenko was standing guard there; he was clearly upset for some reason. There were more guards there than usual, too; they eyed the approaching group attentively:

"Stop!" Petrenko said as they approached the checkpoint. "The Duty base is under lockdown. Only faction members are allowed."

All three stalkers could see that the Dutyers there were on edge. Clearly there was something important going on here. Strelok stepped forward:

"All the better, then. I bring some news from the NPP."

Petrenko looked at him, not recognizing him at first, then:

"Marked One! What are you doing here? We thought you'd be at or beyond Pripyat now. We heard about your exploits in the Red Forest... you did a hell of a job there." A chorus of agreements from the guards around him echoed him. "Sorry, friend, but I can't let you in now." Petrenko's eyes darted through the street, searching it for eavesdroppers, then: "I suppose I can tell you. There's a high-level meeting going on right now."

"Then why aren't you inside? You are Voronin's second-in-command, aren't you?"

The man frowned. He was obviously upset for not being allowed into the meeting, but was coping with it.

"That's all I can tell you. I was put in charge of security for the moment by his express orders, so go figure. Sorry." He spat. "I sure as hell would like to know myself what's going on."

Guide understood there would be few insights for them to glean from him. "Thank you, colonel. Send our greetings to the general, then."

"On behalf of who?"

"I'm Guide." An amazed hush descended upon the Dutyers. Petrenko said, respectfully:

"I'll be sure to do that, sir. Will you be staying around? I'm certain Voronin will want to have a conversation with you."

"We won't be far." They said their goodbyes and walked away towards the hangar leading to the Garbage exit. Chasme noticed Strelok and Guide were conferring privately; the old man was obviously worried by something. He kept his curiosity under control as long as he could, and then, when they were out of hearing range from any eavesdroppers, he whispered:

"What the hell's going on?" Guide answered, as discreetly:

"I am pondering the same. Petrenko is very close to Voronin. Why would he be left out of a meeting puzzles me."

"We'll know soon enough," Strelok said. "Let's go get your gear. We're off to see Seriy."

After retrieving Chasme's weapons, they were quickly out of the Bar area. Like the journey back from the NPP, the way to the garbage heaps was a refreshing experience for Strelok. He had been yearning for the relative warmth and safety of these areas; everything beyond the barrier near the Freedom base had been literally turned upside down.

"So, what is the Red Forest like?" Chasme asked, as soon as they had set off. He grunted and answered reluctantly:

"Unnerving. You're always feeling that something's going to pounce on your back." He sighed with relief, once again thanking for making it out of there in one piece. Guide said:

"I can't imagine how is it going to be now that the Scorcher is done for." He mulled the thought a bit, then added: "There was this rumor about the military having quarantined the installation."

"They did. Or they tried to, I don't know. After I entered the control bunker Monolith reinforcements started pouring in, so when I returned outside they were duking it out with paratroopers. Take it from me... this thing looks mighty tough alright, but bullets hurt all the same."

"It looks like it's seen its share of action", Chasme commented, noting the many dents and scraps in the armor. Guide followed suit, and only then did he seem to notice something:

"Isn't that Fang's exoskeleton?"

Strelok nodded. He walked on silently a few seconds before saying:

"It felt horrible to take it, but I needed everything I could get." For a few minutes he described them the carnage that Pripyat was turning into, and how it seemed to be every man for himself in the ruined city with five factions hellbent on butchering each other. "I know Fang would have wanted me to have it anyway. He would have hated it if I ended up dead in that city too."

"I agree." Guide studied the exoskeleton carefully. "It wasn't that battered when we buried him."

"That square was crammed with whirlies and 'springs, all around and over the grave. I had to weather a blowout and wait for the suckers to shift before I could get there... it's almost as if this thing attracted them." The elderly baldman tilted his head to a side, as he tried to sort fact from fiction in his head and make an idea out of it all.

"Maybe you should put it to test. I have come across some clothing and weaponry with curious qualities."

"How's that, Guide?" Chasme asked.

"Ghost, our late comrade, had a suit much like yours. He obtained it from an anomaly which you've probably seen at Agroprom already, especially in the basement..."

"That greenish one?"

"That exact same. Many stalkers dub it 'Fruit Punch.'"

"Oh... and what did Ghost's armor do?"

"Made him a tough nut to crack. Let me tell you a story... there's this place, near the gate leading to the cordon area, where we once had a stash. I don't know if that stuff is still there. Is it?" he asked Guide, who nodded.

"Everything was there a day and a half ago."

"Good, maybe we can get you something decent then. Okay... well, this place is a hatch leading into a control room of some sort, I think it's for a natural gas pipeline. Before we got to use it to stash our goodies, a bloodsucker used it as a lair." Chasme shivered.

"I'm not hurried for seeing one of those."

"Let's hope you live to a ripe old age without having the pleasure." Strelok laughed at his own sally. "Ghost, as our... er, more 'stalking oriented' stalker, scouted ahead. Fang, Guide and myself went behind him. Reckless bastard..." He sighed sadly, remembering his friend, suddenly aware of how fed up he was with mournings and deaths and blood and radiation and anomalies and factions. He continued wearily, his voice deep: "The damn thing saw him coming and jumped him before we could react. We couldn't do shit... if we tried shooting it we could have hurt Ghost too. All we could do was watching and waiting." Strelok fell silent. Chasme waited for the rest of the tale, but it was Guide who had to complete it:

"Ghost gained the upper hand. He stabbed the bloodsucker through the tentacles and shot its head into a gory mess. But he didn't get out unscathed. The creature almost ripped his bowels open. We tended to his wounds as best as we could, but we thought he would not survive the night... but the following morning, he was on his feet again. It was weeks before we noticed that even severe wounds healed on him on a mere matter of hours. It was the armor; it sped up healing and metabolism."

Chasme had been staring at them both with increasing amazement.

"No shit... another of the wonders of the Zone." Strelok replied bluntly:

"For every such one thing it spits out, it kills a hundred like us. What good did it do to Ghost in the end? He ended up in an underground lab with his brains fried by a controller."

They marched on in silence. The gate to the Duty checkpoint was ahead.