> You finally see Dima emerge out of the bunker. You walk up to him impatiently and ask.

>”So what happened with my lodging? It's getting late"

“Well there is good news and bad. Good news no charge.” 
> He smiles as if he understood the joke only meant for him

“Bad news, place may not be your standards and others can walk in room"

>”Just show me where I can stay Dima” you say deflated.

“Okay, just follow me. I wish to ask you something by the way"

>”What now?” You moan.

“Help me unload some deliveries? You are working for me technically. It'll build reputation, get locals to know you"

>”Sure, after I drop off my stuff" you sigh.

“хорошо, but take caution and hide your belongings. Some may take" He warned.

>He takes you to a basement next to the fire pit the locals were hanging around, after a few steps down, Dima shows you the place you’ll stay. A dingy room with several wooden pallets and futons laid on top lined around the walls to your right and a couch with coffee table in front. This is getting weirder by the second, even this spot is modeled almost like the game.

“Eh, it’s not the best of place but one cannot be so picky in the Zone”

>”Right, I’ll just settle in then…” you reply slowly walking into your lodging for who knows how long. After picking your spot for the night, you turn to help Dima.

“Follow, we go to the van. Boris is waiting for us there"

>You follow Dima to the van at the entrance to Cordon, the back door of the van is already open and several boxes and crates await you to be picked up. Dima motions you to the deliveries as he and Boris begin to carry their boxes.

>After back straining delivery, you’re released from work and retreat to your cove in the basement. Slumping down heavily onto the futon in the corner. You check to see if there’s any connection to the outside world, nothing. Not surprising, you’re in the Zone after all, who knows what could be scrambling signals. You give up trying and get some sleep, it’s gonna be complicated from now on.

>You stir awake after several hours, you check your watch and it’s barely past 9. You crane your neck and back, not a bad first night considering where you are right now. Time for some breakfast you suppose, you remember packing some MRE for the trip and check for your bag. Speaking of which, where is your bag?

>”Oh, you gotta be joking” you say exasperated.

>Rushing up the stairs, you look and see a man in armored suit waiting for you at the top. With couple of guilty looking locals in tow.
“Отдай ему” he says, motioning his head at you.

>The two locals sigh in disappointment and tosses your duffle bag at your feet.

“Другой мешок” he commanded as he slapped one of them in the back of the head, annoyed.

>You hear the thieves mumble as they produce your travel bag from somewhere else and give back to you.

“Извиняюсь к человеку” he chided, tapping his feet impatiently.

>”Извините” the thieves mumble, you want to show them your biggest shit eating grin but you suppress it through sheer will. It’s satisfying to see people get their just desserts after giving you crap yesterday. Even more so when it’s two grown men turned into kindergartners in front of you.

>The thieves are shooed away as you go to retrieve your belongings, you’re about to check the contents to see if anything is missing when the man speaks.

“I made sure everything is back to where it belongs” 

>”Thanks” you reply. “How did you know it was mine?”

“You see anyone else eating western MREs here? It’s pretty obvious who's it is. They didn’t get the chance to open the packaging, no worries” he hands you one of your MRE. 

>”Right, thanks for your help I’m Ano-”

“No, don’t tell me your name. I’ll stick with Tourist”

>”What’s wrong with telling you my name?” you inquire, will that nickname ever drop you wonder.

“Too many kids pass through here all the time. Not many come back. If you’re still alive in couple of weeks, I’ll remember your name. Until then, you’re Tourist or 33 pick one” He said sternly.

>”I’ll take to being called Tourist, thanks.” you grumble. He’s the only guy with some gear in the village. Which means that he’s… Wol-

“I’m Pastor, I’m the baby sitter in charge of this place.”

>It was worth a guess. “You’re not a religious guy are you?”

“No, it’s what my buddies called me after being stuck here. Shepherd didn’t fit so they came up with Pastor. ‘The priest tends to his flock’ they told me” he reminisce as he motions towards the “kids” around him.

“By the way, if you’re looking for your guide he’s not here”

>The news flabbergasts you, he’s not here? Did he just abandon you? Just like that? 

>You struggle to form sentences and whatever you manage to say just comes out as gibberish stutters. You manage to ask after great difficulty, “Do you know where he went?”

“No, I just know that he left early dawn today. Didn’t ask where he and his buddy are going, that’s not my business” he stated.

>You stand there, your face blank and your mind wracked with thoughts. You’re as helpless as a lamb and your only guide just left you here. You shake and your breathing becomes quick with panic. Until Pastor speaks again.

“Go see the old man in the bunker, he’ll tell you where to start. Maybe he’ll give you something to do to take your mind off of things” He advised. 

>You nod and manage to eke out a thanks as you walk towards the bunker.

>With heavy steps you make your way down to the old man, you already have a good guess who it is but since almost-Wolf turned out to be Pastor, you decide to give a benefit of the doubt of the next person you’re about to meet.

>You open the heavy bulkhead door, and see a fat old man sitting behind a grated wall; staring into the computer monitor with great disinterest. He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence until you cough to get his attention.

>With sigh, he turns and face towards the source of the noise and raises his brows when sees you. His expression dotted with slight amusement.

“So, the tourist comes in with his complaints about his hotel stay.” he remarks with a grin.

“How can I help you? Dear customer?” he says slowly dripping with sarcasm. 

>”I want to know where Dima went.”

“Dima? He went north, towards the Northern Checkpoint at the edge of Cordon and Garbage. It’s a scouting run, meaning he’ll be back but not for a while” 

>You’re relieved at the news, at least he’ll be back but you don’t know when and your own supplies won’t last for long. You ask if the man has anything to be done.

“Oh? Asking for work? I thought this was a vacation, American.” he chuckles.

“Well, seeing as you’re an ‘acquaintance’ of Dima; I might have something for you. One question however” he says as he leans towards you, as if to study your reaction after the question is thrown.

“You find out what’s inside the box you brought to me?”

>You almost laugh off at the innocent question he asked but realize that the job depends on your next response.

>”No, never asked him. Just carried to you”

“Mmm, smart tourist; you’ll live longer when you aren’t too curious in these parts.” he nods slowly, returning back into his original pose in his seat. 

“Okay, got a job for you Tourist. Here’s what you need to know…”