Prologue
The year is 2011. The world is just now coming to terms with its imminent demise at the greedy hands of the ever-expanding Zone, an irradiated, mutated wasteland populated by monsters, anomalies, and Stalkers. Stalkers are men, women, and sometimes those young enough to be called children who have many reasons for visiting the Zone, all boiling down to a single goal: escape from the worlds they left behind.
Alexsi Sergeivich is one of those men who have donned the radiation suit. Initially, his goal was for he and his business partner, Roach Patterson, to amass enough wealth to never have to work again. Unfortunately for him, the Zone has not been kind.
Roach Patterson is trapped in an anomaly, wondering endlessly through folding fields of space, and Alexsi is in a bar, trying to forget that his life as he knows it is now over...
He would have raised his glass, but he had nothing to toast to. Yet another group of Stalkers had returned from a harrowing journey, down one rifle, but all alive. He used to believe that when Stalkers raised their glasses for you, they were mocking you, but he now realized, far too late, that their toasts were genuine; any mission you could come home from, especially in the Zone, was as good as successful.
It hadn't been that way in the Spetsnaz, of course, but then, the fates of entire countries sometimes rode on a few small actions. Here in the Zone, all that mattered was you staying alive, and if you could achieve that, there was still hope for you. Alexsi was, unfortunately, learning this lesson all too late.
Roach Patterson, his business partner... and he hated to admit it, good, and sometimes only friend... was now trapped in an endless loop, walking through an anomaly that had no exit, and he was currently drinking from a glass that was soon to have no bottom. Then, he was going to leave the Zone, forever, broke and unhappy, but alive.
The newly returned Stalkers took their seat at a table close by, and as he sipped his drink, he listened to what they were saying. Information was a very valuable thing in the Zone, and the more anyone had of it, the more likely they were to survive. At first, they were just bitching about the rifle they lost, and Alexsi made a mental note of where it sounded like they had lost it. Maybe he could retrieve it and sell it.
"But your story was total bullshit, anyway."
"I'm telling you, the man in the cabin knows!"
"Knows how to put a bullet in a Stalker!"
"He knows where the Compass is! I'm telling you, the key to any anomaly! People would pay millions of rubles for-"
As what he had just said set in, Alexsi jumped out of his chair, and grabbed the Stalker by his suit, yanking him up to eye level.
Several guns from several different tables were in his face in an instant. Apparently, a few Stalkers had snuck their arms in without the Barman's knowing. The Barman probably didn't mind, though; he knew better than anyone that being jumpy came with the territory. But he didn't care. He only wanted his question answered.
"Where?!"
"Th-the man in the cabin lives in the Red Forest! That's all I know! I don't know where in the Forest, but I swear he's there! I know a Stalker who-"
Alexsi dropped the Stalker to the ground, his head banging against a table on the way down. Alexsi was already up and moving, making his way toward the bartender. Most of the guns went down upon his release of the Stalker, but a few followed him up to where the makeshift counter stood.
Alexsi slapped a wad of rubles onto the counter, more than covering his tab, and told the Barman, "I would like my equipment back, please."
Finally, the Zone had shown him a shred of kindness. Finally, some hope to cling to. And he would cling to it... even if it dragged him to the grave.
