The night is dark and stormy as the stalker crosses into The Zone, the oppressive weight of the unknown pressing down with every step. Rain hammers relentlessly, soaking the stalker to the bone, while cold wind bites at exposed skin. Having narrowly avoided the vigilant eyes of the security forces at the perimeter so far, the stalker's objective is simple in theory: slip through the shadows and reach the village.
The air is thick with a tension that feels almost tangible, every sound amplified by the stalker's heightened senses. The distant hum of laughter and conversation from the Security outpost mingles with the crackling of their fires, a stark contrast from the distant, distorted cries of strange animals. From the outpost's edge, searchlights intermittently pierce the darkness, but no sign points to anyone being aware of the stalker's presence yet.
Time to move, stalker.
