"Strelok?" the Barkeep repeated, taking Konrad's cash without missing a beat. "Sure. I know him."
"C'mon," a Stalker laughed nearby. "Everyone does. That ain't no thousand-dollar question."
Because the bar was livelier than Konrad had expected.
Okay, he should have given up on having expectations here from the start.
But it was a nice change of pace.
Even if it scared him for some reason.
"Shut up, rookie," their grizzled host grunted. "None of your business what he pays for. But yeah, he went missing until like, two weeks ago."
The Barkeep had a square face and no hair whatsoever.
A middle-aged man with a large non-figurative tattoo on his neck.
The type who gave Konrad the chills, but turned out to be talkative.
"He asked me if I had some errands, twelve days ago," he said. "Popped by a week later, too. When I had some stuff between the scientists and me, he took 'em on. A good guy, that one."
And yet, it only took a thousand in cash to sell him out.
"Scientists?" Dmitry perked up at the word, putting his drink down.
That was his second, and Konrad wasn't even allowed to get one.
"Aye. Some nerds with a fancy mobile lab at the edge of the swamp," the Barkeep said. "No idea who pays 'em, but must be rich and dumb. They hire Stalkers often to help 'em collect samples."
That piqued the Captain's interest, but Konrad was the one paying for the questions.
"Is he still working for them?"
The man scratched his bald head, thinking for a moment.
"Don't think so," he said. "He needed some cash and gear, but after that—his usual programme."
That got him rolling his eyes.
"I paid for actual answers, not rebuses," Konrad complained.
And the Stalker at the counter started laughing again.
"Shows that you're the only one not knowing him," he claimed. "Strelok does the same every time. Shows up, cashes out on his insane finds, then disappears even deeper into the Zone."
Hmm, did he pay the wrong guy?
"What finds?" he asked, almost in perfect sync with Dmitry.
The first answer was a shrug.
"Dunno. Artifacts. Gadgets. Stuff I've never seen before."
"He's been farther into the Zone than any other Stalker here," the Barkeep nodded. "And he's smart enough not to mark any of his routes on the map."
Well, wasn't that great? Konrad could only sigh in frustration.
"I know, right?" the second guy laughed. "Bet he keeps his PDA off half the time. It should be illegal. And when he did sell the coordinates for the safe route through Wild Territories—"
"Wild Territories?" Konrad asked. "Who even comes up with these names?"
"Anyone with the right amount of vodka," the Barkeep smirked. "You sure you don't want one?"
No, but the Captain killed the fun before it started.
"He got so ass-drunk yesterday, I refuse to babysit him again. Pour me another instead."
How was that even fair?!
"Anyway," the brawny man continued once he put away the bottle. "It's the other side of this compound, where the railyard used to be. This half is calm, but that one's full of anomalies."
"And fucking snipers," the Stalker groaned. "Those stupid scientists brought them on our necks."
Konrad blinked.
"What?"
They went from almost no info to way too much that shouldn't have concerned him.
"Mercenaries," the Barkeep spat. "As I said, those nerds by the swamp seem wealthy, but they hired the worst scum to guard their lab. And surprise, surprise, they went rogue immediately."
"Huh?" Dmitry asked, shoving down his second drink. "What are they doing sniping then?"
Both the Stalker and their host shrugged.
"The nerds had to take a long, dangerous detour from this place to theirs," the Barkeep explained. "Strelok mapped the anomalies so they could make a shortcut, but—"
"Turns out, that place has a treasure trove of artifacts," the other guy finished it for him.
"That's the gist of it."
"So they guard the place now, rather than the scientists?" Konrad asked, scowling.
"What do they do with the artifacts they find?" the Captain added his question, too.
Another shrug. But that brawny man avoided their eyes this time.
"I don't like 'em, but business is business," he said. "They sell 'em to me, and Sidorovich buys 'em in bulk. People have to survive somehow, and I can't be picky when running a shop."
So it wasn't only booze and sandwiches?
Unlike that old fox in his bunker, the Barkeep didn't put his wares out in the open.
"I don't get it, though," Konrad shook his head. "If those scientists are so wealthy, why abandon them? Why not sell the artifact as samples instead?"
No, wait, he didn't even care.
He got sidetracked since Dmitry hung on every word like a puppy, but this didn't bring him closer to Strelok. All these Stalkers might have infected him with the curiosity for adventure.
His goal wasn't to understand or decipher this place.
He only cared about sealing Lucifer away, but—
"As I said, those nerds are dumb," the Barkeep grunted. "They could've gotten a good deal out of it, but decided they wanted stuff for free. Because of the contracts they signed, or whatever."
"They pay the highest price for any artifact we bring them, actually—"
"But the mercenaries won't trade with them now," their host said. "Instead, we're stuck with a lucrative area right next door that we can't exploit. And they're sniping it to hell and back."
Yeah. No.
Fascinating as the Zone politics sounded, this had nothing to do with Konrad.
"Why don't you guys take them out?" Dmitry asked, already reaching for his gun—that wasn't even there. "Fuck those mercenaries. This is your home. Don't let 'em invade it like that."
Oh boy. He was even more patriotic when drunk.
And when did he get a third drink?!
"It's not that simple, kid," the Barkeep laughed. And finally, someone called someone other than Konrad a kid, too—even if he was the freaking Hero of Kyiv. "Stalkers are no soldiers."
"Yeah, I'm here for the thrill and the riches, not to get shot in the ass," the other one added.
They were trespassers and scavengers, after all.
No wonder that even regular bandits could shake them down. But actual mercenaries?
"They've western gear, Swiss rifles, bulletproof vests," their host listed. "The only thing we can do is sneak past them when we deal with the scientists. Or, at least, that's what Strelok does."
That finally piqued Konrad's interest, too.
"So he's still here?" he asked, wanting his money's worth of info at last.
Getting yet another shrug instead.
"We can't track him. He could be there. Or at the CNPP already," the Barkeep said. "My guess is, he's somewhere between. But this is his usual route. And he's obsessed with going deeper."
Meaning, if they stayed here, he'd show up sooner or later.
He wouldn't have to deal with that Brain Scorcher bullshit that he didn't even ask about yet.
That would have been useful if only he had the time to wait.
But with Dmitry firing himself up with his fourth vodka in a row?
"These mercenaries are pissing me off," he announced, slurring his words hard. "Konrad. My man. Kid, with your, um—skills. We could take 'em all out like it's nothin'."