In a small quiet Tavern of the old run downtown of Bladewood just a mile away from the military cordon separating the zone from the outside world, in the far corner of the bar at the table in the back. Angela softly loaded her pistol's magazine as she waited a client. Many curious folks tend to go. Counting each one silently as her thoughts bubbled up a bit in her mind as her eyes gazed up looking at an Iron authority's recruitment poster which currently had several knives sticking out where the stalkers were playing their own version of darts with the painted commissar's head. Would she fully commit this trip, to break her shackles to this oppressive regime that had turned her life upside down.

Most stalkers who had family never would take that step understandably. To dedicate your life to the zone was one thing but to try to live inside it. Entirely different beast. but she had nothing, no one was left from the old world. The authority had quickly silenced all of her neighbors and friends. Her classmates. No one was spared, yet the heavens thought it be funny to let a little mouse go free. If she had any more tears her eyes would still be pouring. But no point in scratching old wounds now. Even if this was her final day in this godforsaken city she once called home.