In the misty morning air, a crow was startled into flight by a breaking twig. Shotgun blast punched the bird out mid-flight, and it tumbled down, releasing a shining object from its beak. Sevka watched it drop with a smirk. He strolled over to the place where the remains of the bird had landed. There, partly buried in the dirt, a small medallion lay. Sevka raised it off the ground, looked at the picture inside and pocketed the jewelry, grunting approvingly.

"What was that about?", Dimka asked, stepping behind his friend.

"Bird stole something of mine. Nothing important, carry on with your morning routine.", Sevka said somewhat absent-mindedly.

"It was a medallion, right? Why are you carrying baubles in the Zone?", Dimka pressed on, but Sevka only turned and slapped his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Dimka, you're my only friend in this fucking asylum of madmen, but there are some things I like to keep to myself. That clear?", Sevka replied, not with his usual grumpiness, but with a stern yet friendly voice.

"Fine, fine. Keep your secrets then. Any other news than you being mischievous? Rest of the group is still asleep, well, was, if you did not wake them with that shot.", Dimka asked.

"None. This ravine is about as populated as Dima's comedy show would be. Even the rats stay out of here. Are you sure this is how we get to this... Agroprom place?", Sevka questioned, looking at the map on his PDA.

"Da. It should be right around the corner. I'm not sure how we'll get further from there, but apparently the eggheads Sanyok contacted have a plan.", Dimka replied confidently.

"I'm not often happy that we stayed with these clowns, but I am glad they chose to continue hunting down UNISG.", Sevka mused, and his companion nodded.

"Have you given any thought as to what you'll do after all this is over?", the Bulgarian stalker asked.

"I have. I wish to leave the Zone for good. You may think this place is a treasure of adventure, but I see only death and treachery here. I want to fulfill our mission here, or at least avenge our dead comrades, and leave.", Sebastiano sighed, and once again, Dimka nodded, seemingly wanting to say something too.

"Oi, which one of you debils decided to use a shotgun as an alarm clock?", Dima's voice rang over the small canyon-like area.

Dimka and Sevka looked at each other, then let out a synchronized sigh. They returned to camp, where the others were slowly preparing to head out. Packing their sleeping bags, kicking out the fire, eating snacks, the small camp was abuzz with action. Boris and Sanyok were planning the route ahead, to Yantar, while Dima and Stepukha enjoyed a cigarette break. The mood in the camp had improved apparently after news of some Boris' close friends having returned from their mission. Dimka and Sevka had met them only through the scope of their rifles, but they could see how important these news were to the old guard. Felka also returned to camp soon, having been the other guard for the morning. He and Sevka had barely exchanged a word, the tensions still simmering below surface from the earlier exchange. The exoskeleton on Felka whirred in anguish as the man sat down.

"If Dima's babbling doesn't give our location away when we enter Agroprom, that deadbeat tin can does, blyat.", Stepukha commented.

"Your exo is as deadbeat as mine, Stepukha, last I heard Boris found it off a dumpster somewhere-", Felka replied.

"Polymer simply slanders my beautiful creation and renegade ingenuity.", Boris raised his nose from the maps to interject, which Felka brushed aside before continuing.

"Anyway, from my short career with Redemption, I say we sent the soldier boys ahead to scout either way. We may have our differences, but when they went to work on that Black Slug outpost... Oh mama, those bastards didn't stand a chance."

"Sounds good, if you don't mind lugging my Vykhlop a little longer.", Dimka said with a grin.

"You need an exo of your own, but okay, this once. I hate pointman duty, so it's a small price to pay to avoid that.", Felka replied.

"Do you hate it because your clanking attracts every enemy this side of the CNPP?", Dima asked in an amused tone, and Felka rolled his eyes at the man.

"Alright. Looks like we got a course plotted to Agroprom and Yantar. If you two have no qualms with pointman duty, then go ahead.", Boris said, rising up, and the two ex-UNISG agents nodded.

"They don't call me Pathfinder for nothing.", Dimka replied cheerily.

"No one calls you that but you alone.", Sevka grunted.

With that, the squad set on the route once more. The way ahead was as uneventful as the brain activity of a Monolith trooper. Dull hills, grey bushes and abandoned houses dotted the landscape. Sometimes, the occasional flesh, boar or fox would peek their head out of the foliage, only to retreat back into the bushes upon seeing humans. There were few evident clues related to stalker activity, bar a couple skeletons propped by rocks or trees. One curiously enough had a red suit, torn and damaged by age and weather, with a patch Sevka did not recognize. He took it off the corpse, leaving behind a bottle of vodka. Sevka was not superstitious, but growing up in a Catholic family, even if quite secularized by Spanish standards, he had reverence for the dead of all nationalities.

Dimka was moving up ahead, swinging his rifle from side to side in order to be ready for anything. Sevka sprinted after him and slowed his pace upon reaching his friend. Showing the patch to Dimka, they observed the grey wolf on it with keen interest. Dimka only shook his head, not aware of any such patch during his short stay in the Zone. Sevka pocketed the patch, hoping to show it to someone more knowledgeable later, like Sanyok. They continued in silence for a time, simply observing the scene. They came upon a tall hill, and cresting it, a new area spread over them.

"Agroprom. Just as uninviting as the last time.", Dimka muttered.

"You've been here?", Sevka asked.

"Barkeep asked me to fetch some sort of document case near the military base, that large facility there. Only time I visited the place, and I thought it'd be the last but no.", Dimka sighed.

"Eh, it doesn't look all that bad. Look, there's a beautiful little pond there, and bright green trees on those hillsides.", Sevka said, in a mocking voice, pointing at the bog nearby.

Dimka told him to sod off, and turned to look at the group getting up the hill far behind them in another ridge, likely half a kilometre away. Sevka was about to turn too, when the crack of a bullet whizzing by snapped him into action. Dimka yelped in pain and Sevka saw for a flash of a moment blood spurting out of his arm. Pushing his friend down, Sevka lunged down as well, avoiding a burst of bullets striking the dirt around them. Somewhat covered by the hill, Sevka fumbled for a syringe of his stimpack and stuck it into Dimka's arm. His friend's eyes turned from agony to normal, somewhat calmer look, and with the most pressing matter dealt with, Sevka prepared his shotgun.

The time to use it came faster than he had expected. A man in brown and stale red trenchcoat rushed over the top towards him, and a bullet exploded on the ground next to Sevka's head. It had far too much power for a basic AK round like man was holding, and the dirt sent flying by the impact almost blinded Sevka. He retaliated immediately with his Saiga, and the man's chest practically exploded from the dozen pellets. More bullets of similarly extreme explosive properties struck the hill, and Sevka saw it best to retreat. Grabbing his friend's shoulder, he slid down the hill, only to almost get sawed in half by a bullet coming from the opposite direction.

"It's an ambush!", Dimka managed to pant despite the state he was in.

"Mierda! This is all just constant battles, never a break!", Sevka cursed, for no other reason than frustration.

Another shot buzzed by as they tumbled down the hill. Dimka tried to use his Ruger to dissuade the enemy from raising their heads to fire, but it was like tossing bolts at a charging chimera, good way to make yourself look like an idiot and not much else. When the Ruger ran dry, Dimka cursed, dove for rock cover and narrowly avoided a bullet that dug a basketball-sized crater into the hillside.

"Who the fuck are these guys?", Dimka screamed from his cover, but Sevka was too far in his battle mantra to respond.

Ever since his first combat training session many moons ago, Sevka had subscribed to simple mantra in battle. During that session, an attack mission, he could only think of a single verse from one of his favourite songs. Anda, Jaleo, Jaleo, it went. Move, fight, fight. Simple yet effective. He repeated it inside his head to fight back fear and uncertainty, and to remind himself never to stop in the middle of fighting. It had kept him alive in Kabul all those years ago, and again in Transnistria. Move, fight, fight, his thoughts went. Just like his grandfather had thought during the battle of Ebro during the civil war, like his father had thought during the Gulf War. He would follow that very same mantra to victory or death.

Sevka pinned down the location of the attacker while hiding behind a tree. Shotgun blast sent dust and rocks flying around the ambusher, who now sprung out of cover, visibly bleeding. Dimka with his puny revolver managed to snap a shot at him, killing the man. Dimka cheered, only to receive a hail of bullets from another attacker. The man was in a strange Sunrise suit-Skat hybrid, and when Sevka shot the man, the pellets seemed to do little. He fired on, missing one blast and hitting with another, doing marginal damage. Fight, fight... Move, his thoughts raced, and he jumped out of cover to dart towards another rock. A grenade engulfed the tree he had hid behind in flames. The Skatrise man was loading another round into his launcher. Dimka's Ruger blasted craters into his armour, yet the man only laughed.

"Let's see how you like this, puta.", Sevka growled, loading a set of armour-piercing slugs into his shotgun.

It fired three times, and the first two staggered the man. His launcher fired back in the millisecond it took for the third round to hit, and as the final slug crushed his chestrib in, Sevka's hideout was struck by a grenade in turn. The Spanish stalker was sent flying, uninjured by the blast but caught by the shockwave. He landed on the creek behind him, hearing his shotgun stock break as it struck the ground. Dazed, he saw Dimka rush to help, only to be pinned down by machine gun fire that felt more like an artillery piece as it dug a trench on the hillside. Three more rust-robed stalkers emerged from their hideouts, like sharks smelling blood in the water. Move... Move... Fight... Sevka thought, but his body would not listen.

That was when rest of the Redemption squad arrived to the battlefield. The armoured spearhead of Boris, Stepukha and Felka rolled over the hill like an armoured division, trampling underneath them the now exposed enemies. The trio of unidentified stalkers seemed intent on retreating, but one of their numbers was cut down by Felka's Vikhr almost immediately. Dimka opened fire with his DVL, propping it up against the rock with great difficulty as his other hand was still worth as much as Sidorovich's promise. His sniper claimed another kill, bursting open a man's head from the sheer velocity and power of the round. The last one of the ambushers tried to run over the hill, only to find Dima and Sanyok as a welcoming committee. The greeting was in the form of lead, and the final unknown enemy fell down, holding his decimated throat with both hands.

Sevka still repeated the mantra inside his head when his body finally realized what moving meant. Rising to his feet slowly like a 90-year old rheumatic, Sevka hobbled over to his friend sitting by the rock. Despite the wound in his arm and bruises all over the face from the rather haphazard descent downhill, Dimka was smiling. Damn adneraline junkie, Sevka thought to himself as he sat by the Bulgarian pathfinder. Dimka reached inside his suit and pulled out a metal bottle.

"To victory! And one more day of survival.", Dimka cheered and took a swig of Tooth's moonshine, coughing a bit and handing it to Sevka.

"Indeed. But who were these men?", Sevka asked in between gulps.

"New faction called Futility, I think. I didn't realize it during the battle, but me and Boris met these fucking nutjobs in Jupiter.", Dimka explained, pointing at the reversed letter N on the man laying face down in the dirt not far from them.

Sevka went over to the corpse to take a closer look at the patch. Nihilist symbol, interesting, he thought to himself, collecting the patch. This place might be a nightmare Sevka felt he could not wake up from, but never before had he seen such diversity of ideologies on the battlefield. If someone ever decided to study the various factions of the Zone one by one, they could make a thick book out of it. He checked the man's belongings and found only a small guitar and some ammunition. While the weapons this group had used were absolutely devastating, there was now telling how one would go about making more ammunition for them, so Sevka left that to the dead man. Taking the guitar, he played a few notes, grunted approvingly and went back to Dimka, who was chugging down moonshine at an alarming rate.

"You know how to play that?", Dimka asked, slurring a bit.

"Maybe lay off the moonshine a bit, brother, that's not a good look. But yes, I have a guitar back home. Or had, before... Eh, nothing.", Sevka sighed.

"You know any good songs? Like Dirge for the Planet Earth or He was a good Stalker?", Stepukha asked, having strolled here after the group had looted the other nihilists.

"I do. One of my home country, a flamenco song. One that speaks to me like none other.", Sevka said quietly.

"Huh, I thought only thing that spoke to you was being fucking angry and boring all the time.", Felka said, stepping on the rock.

"How about you find a whirligig to jump into, pendejo?", Sevka retorted, and Felka only smirked in return.

"Can you play the song? I would love to hear it, for it's been ages since we've had good musician in our group. Sanyok isn't much of an harmonica player, if I'm honest.", Boris asked, making Sanyok frown before he admitted defeat and nodded.

Sevka agreed, and slowly began moving his fingers on the strings, feeling the nature of the instrument. Slowly, a tune rose over the lost hills and creeks of Agroprom. None of the other stalkers beside Sevka understood the words, but it did not matter to them. They understood the meaning behind it, to fight, to resist, but to also regret the fight and the casualities it inevitably causes.

To Sevka, it had been a song that had spoken to him in his peacekeeper days. One that his mother had sang to him before the incident. But as he sat with his Redemption comrades and sang of a hunter regretting the killing of a pigeon, he understood the men he had fought with more than ever before. They followed his mantra even though they did not know of it. As Sevka ended the song, he could not bear looking at the others. For the first time, after so long feeling like Redemption was nothing more than murderers trying their hardest to look like heroes, Sevka seemed to understand them. Their regret, yet the willingness to move on and fight for the here and now. When the last echo of the song faded, Sebastiano De Luca was more conflicted and confused than ever in his life.