"Hold on," Konrad said, while he himself was holding on to the Crystal artifact a little longer. "If these things are so useful and valuable—why would we give them to you?"
Sidorovich hollered, waving the promised list around.
"You're greedy. I like it. But I offer you legitimate business."
"Legitimate."
That word didn't sound right from the trader's mouth.
Not when this whole place was off limits, and the military was shooting at anyone who entered.
"You don't want to keep too many, believe me," Sidorovich said. "Most veteran Stalkers use two or three at most. You get diminishing returns and the radiation still racks up."
That did make sense.
"So you say I should find a Crystal like this, and something situational?"
"That's how the lucky rookies do it," the trader grunted. "They start at the Garbage, and—"
"What if they're not lucky?" Konrad asked, suspicious.
The old man shrugged.
"They die." That was it. "Crystals form on the heaps of radioactive waste, so it's the worst place to be in. If they find one? Good. That'll get rid of their radiation poisoning. If not—"
That sounded more like Russian Roulette than a legitimate business model.
"But even if you get a Crystal, which is a mid-grade artifact—don't hoard the rest. There was a Stalker with five on him at all times, and radiation killed him before the bandits could."
"Bandits?"
This kept getting better.
Radiation, deadly anomalies, soldiers hunting them with suicide drones, and now this, too?
"Well, of course," Sidorovich said, as a matter of fact. "The Stalker business is risky. Those who don't want to go near the anomalies will camp near the safe routes—and collect a tax."
Yep, that did sound like classic banditry.
But it also brought up another question.
"Didn't you say most anomalies are invisible?" Konrad asked. "How are we going to find the right ones? Or how does this even work? The artifact floats in them, and that's it?"
The old man grunted.
"You ask the right questions at last," he said, rummaging in his cluttered office. "No, most artifacts are also invisible inside their anomalies. Finding them is hard. But not impossible."
He returned with a sketchy-looking device that could have been a gutted-out calculator.
"This is one of the prototype anomaly detectors."
No, that was a prime example of a wiring hazard. It turned on with a spark and a beep. Then, an LED flashed green when the trafficker turned it towards the Crystal in Konrad's hand.
It did the same with the Meat, too, but only if he aimed straight at it.
"It's rudimentary, and you have to be precise where you point it," he explained. "But it works. It will also beep whenever you're near an anomaly, so that you won't walk into it by accident."
"Then what?" Konrad asked, raising an eyebrow, handing back the artifact.
The earlier prickling and burning were gone.
He couldn't test the Meat, but this Crystal was the real deal.
"Well, you either trigger the anomaly, and hope it will throw it into your hand," the trader smirked. "Or get it without killing yourself. But I'm a merchant, not a field worker."
Yeah, he could tell.
"You'll need a sealed container for stuff not in use," Sidorovich added. "And since bandits can't open those, they won't steal them off you, either. So that and this detector would be another—"
"Oh, no, I'm already broke," Konrad moaned, staring at his empty purse.
The trafficker's face hardened.
"Well, that'll make your job harder," he said, crossing his arms. "But if you happen to strike it rich, you know where to find me—and my goods."
So very helpful.
He let out a long sigh.
"And? What about the rest?" Konrad demanded. "You still didn't tell me how to find—"
"Strelok? Hah. He would be way out of your reach if you can't manage these early hurdles. And if you do, you'll come back here anyway. You'll need this gear, so—we'll talk about it then."
Was it his way of building customer loyalty?! Or a pyramid scheme?
"What are we supposed to do then?" he scowled, exchanging a glance with Dmitry.
The old fox shrugged, then took his sweet time putting away the artifacts and his detector.
"As I said—try your luck with the Garbage first. Look for the Wolves. Not the blind dogs, they would eat you alive. But Stalkers with a wolf patch on their shoulders. Talk to Yuri."
"Yuri, at the Garbage," Konrad repeated, taking mental notes. "Will you give a map, too?"
"I'll give you better," Sidorovich smirked. "As a token of my trust."
And after some more rummaging, he produced the least sketchy item in the entire shop.
A PDA in pristine condition.
They were big for a short time before Konrad died. But he hadn't seen one in Tokyo.
"Huh?" He eyed it in confusion. "Told you I'm broke."
"It's my investment," the old fox said. "Without this, you'd die the moment you leave my bunker. I had a container's worth from an old, failed business, and now every Stalker has one."
He turned it on, opening the map application.
"There's your map. Not real-time, since we can't get an accurate satellite image anymore. But it marks the important places and the safer routes, updated by other Stalkers along the way."
"How does it have reception?" Konrad scowled.
His phone became a useless piece of plastic, mobile internet or not.
The trafficker pointed at the ceiling.
"Satellites can't take pictures, but their signal still works," he claimed. "As long as you're not too deep underground. It also shares your GPS location with the other Stalkers nearby—"
"What?! How do I turn that off?" was Konrad's first question.
Sidorovich laughed.
"I know, I know, privacy and all," he said. "But believe me, you want it on at all times. See where your friends are, if shit hits the fan. Many Stalkers only survived because of this function."
"Does it show Strelok, too?"
"If you're less than a hundred meters from him? Sure. But it's anonymous by default, unless you mark someone as a friend," he explained. He even handed out a second one to Dmitry.
Konrad found the tracker app.
It was like a minimap showing his immediate surroundings with the number two in a corner.
And two, orange dots right where Sidorovich and the Captain were standing.
No further information.
"How do I do that?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
"I know what you're thinking," the trader laughed. "But you can't abuse it to find your guy. It only works in person, and the two PDAs have to be at touching distance."
He demonstrated it with their devices.
Pushing them together until a pop-up appeared on both screens, he explained.
"It's in Russian, but that's your friend request right there."
He hit accept, and Dmitry's orange dot turned green. That was it.
No name or other info appeared.
"It's possible to hide your exact location, and bandits do that," Sidorovich noted. "But they would still show up on the proximity radar, so they can't ambush you out of the blue."
"You gave one to every single bandit as well?!"
And now they could also track him with it.
He didn't like this. Not one bit.
"As I said, they started as Stalkers, too, giving up along the way. But if you don't show up on the others' radar, they'll think you're military, or a zombie, and shoot you, so—"
Konrad blinked.
"Wait. What was that? Zombies?!"
This became more and more ridiculous with every passing minute.