You know one Ukrainian, Galya. And she's batshit insane. Get drunk off her ass on vodka and go roof-hopping between commie blocs? She's done it. Practice her reaction reflexes by dodge-rolling out of the way of cars on open freeways? She's done it. Go into a paranormal zone surrounding the Chernobyl NPP and Pripyat to collect radioactive hellrocks (or artifacts)? She's done it. Or, more accurately, is doing it...and she dragged you along for the ride.

Ah, Pripyat. Almost 50,000 people used to live here, now it's a ghost town. Commie blocs, wide boulevards, schools and kindergartens sprinkled in-between with civic centers, museums and various shoppes and pubs along for it as well. Now it's home to a bunch of anomalies and lucrative artifacts, plus a good few hundred cheeki breekis.

You and her decided to camp for the night underneath a stare case in an unassuming apartment bloc. You feel a smack strike your face as she then screams,

"TAKIN' A NAP, PRINCESS?!"

She grabs her Kalashnikov with a vice, racking it's bolt. From the ambient lighting in this room, you can tell it's daytime now. Morning.

"We got artifacts to look for, c'mon!"