The life of a Stalker is simple, wake up, go explore the Zone, fight A bandit or a mutant, maybe find an artifact, go back, sleep, or if your unlucky, die. Artyom "Hitara" Degtyarev was what you would call a Veteran Stalker, he has been in the Zone for about a year or so. Last time he checked he was 27 years old and the year was 2019. Hitara was walking into a small, wood building that laid in the middle of nowhere. He was carrying an AK-74 with blue tape on the magazine, buttstock, and handguard. He was wearing an old leather jacket, ShM-41 gas mask, a black rucksack, Blue jeans, and black combat boots.

Hitara wasn't looking for anything in particular. Maybe he might find an artifact or two. The building was more like a large shack than a house. The inside was a mess, like the rest of the interior's in the Zone, occupied or not. Looking though-out the house he found only a small box of 5.45x39mm cartridges. Useful if he didn't have a shit load of them, but hey, the more the marrier. The Stalker exited the house and walked down the old road.

As Mitara walked by a crashed helicopter that vegetation had taken over when alone bandit with a double-barrel shotgun stepped in front of him "YOU! Hand me your shit!" The bandit demanded. Instead of doing that, he walked back towards the crashed helicopter and unslung his AK-74 and opened fire. The bandit taken aback by being shot by he ran behind the tree. The two engaged bullets for some minutes until Mitara's gun jammed. "Shit!" he cried as the bandit stepped toward Hitara. When Hitara finally got the jammed bullet out, he was face-to-face with a 12 gauge shotgun. This time the bandit didn't hesitate with blowing apart the head of Hitara all over the rusty helicopter.

Hitara didn't know what would happen when he did die. But he didn't expect waking up in a bad inside a hotel-sized room that looked like it was from the Zone. Looking around he found his Assault Rifle laying by an acoustic guitar. Picking both objects he slung them on his back. He took off his gas mask and sniffed the air. "Smells like Sulfur." He thought.

As Hitara walked down the hallway of the building. His footsteps echoing thought the building. When he saw a flite of stars he calmed down to get out of the building and find out where he was. after 2 or three flite's he found the main lobby, with the sound of plates and eating utensils filling the air.

"Wow Alastor, that's some good jambalaya!" said a joyful female voice in English, witch Hitara can understand and speak. "Well thank you, my dear!" replied a male voice (possibly 'Alastor') that sounded like it came from an old radio. The voices came from a room closed off from the rest of the world.

Walking to the door he wanted to knock but pondered whether he should but his Gas Mask on. On one hand, he could meet them face to face and could gain trust faster. on the other hand, if they were bandits that would act friendly then literary stab you in the back he could keep his identity a secret if he Succesful escaped.

'Eh...Better safe than sorry.'

Slipping on his Gas Mask he necked on the door three times.

Knock, Knock, Knock