The Zone was surprisingly peaceful today at least by its own standards. Ever since Strelok's group had ventured toward the Chernobyl Power Plant, emissions had grown sporadic, and even the swamps seemed to breathe a momentary calm. Still, the swamps weren't one of the shittiest place in the Zone for nothing.
At the fishing hamlet near Clear Sky's main base, the few members stationed there froze when an anomaly bloomed in front of them one unlike anything they'd seen before. It was as if a Burner, an Electro, and a Springboard had fused together, the air between them twisting with random gravitational surges.
Naturally, the combined response was:"Oh shit!"
Most bolted for the safety of the nearby shacks, ducking behind rusted metal and rotting wood. A few braver souls peeked out from cover, half-hoping something valuable might drop from the swirling chaos.
The anomaly pulsed, roaring with fire, lightning, and compressed air until it suddenly collapsed inward tighter and tighter until all that remained was a bright, trembling sphere. Then it vanished.
A second later, a shockwave ripped through the hamlet, sending boxes and equipment flying and knocking a few stalkers flat on their backs. When the dust settled, something or rather, someone lay where the anomaly had been.
A man.
He wore ordinary clothes: a dirt-stained T-shirt, long pants torn at the knees, and sneakers that had seen better days. He was tall, roughly six feet, with the build of someone used to work, not luxury. But what caught everyone's attention wasn't his height it was the blood spreading beneath him.
One of the more level-headed members sprinted forward, swearing under his breath, and began to patch the stranger up with a field kit. A few others joined in once they realized the man wasn't immediately mutating or dissolving into goo.
When they managed to stop the worst of the bleeding, they hoisted him up and made for the main base. Whatever had just fallen from the sky or the Zone wasn't something to ignore. Maybe he was special. Maybe he was dangerous. Either way, Cold would want to know.
The medical officer or rather Professor Kalancha, Clear Sky's closest thing to one took over as soon as they arrived, barking quick instructions while the rescuers filled him in.
The commotion drew their leader out soon enough. Cold, as composed and sharp as ever, stepped in to assess the situation. One look at the strange man and he was immediately confused, mostly because of the man's clothing. Nothing that clean should exist in the Zone not on anyone who wasn't freshly dead. And unarmed too? That wasn't just strange, that was wrong.
This wasn't the kind of anomaly you just wrote off.
But once Cold was told what had happened, curiosity mixed with worry. He'd never heard of let alone seen an anomaly like that before. If things like that started appearing more often, it'd be a nightmare for everyone in the Zone. Random people or corpses dropping out of nowhere? That was the kind of chaos no one could prepare for.
And the questions… where had the man come from? How had he survived the fall was it luck or something else? And worse had the anomaly changed him somehow?
Cold pushed those thoughts aside speculation could wait. For now, there was a crowd to deal with.
He raised his voice, snapping the onlookers out of their daze. "Alright, show's over. Back to your posts!"
Most of the remaining Clear Sky members shuffled off, still throwing glances toward the unconscious stranger. Once the area was clear, Cold made his way to the "medical room" — though calling it that was generous. It was just the cleanest space they had, but it had kept men alive before. Hopefully, it would again.
Inside, Professor Kalancha was bent over the patient, muttering to himself as he checked the bandages the rescuers had hastily wrapped. He swept a Geiger counter across the man's body, and to Cold's mild surprise, it ticked normally. No radiation spikes, no chemical burn markers, nothing.
When Kalancha noticed Cold at the door, he straightened up speaking quickly.
"Ah, Cold I was just about to get you. You'll want to see this."
----
Darkness. Endless, shifting darkness. Water sloshed and rippled through it, flowing without purpose, threading past the sphere of minds, deep beneath the material. It moved slowly patient until it touched something new.
A place it had never reached before. A place to see, to take from.
It pierced through the barrier and found minds unlike any it had touched thoughts that shimmered with strange colours, laws that bent differently, energies raw and untainted. It wanted to go further, to open the door but before it could, its masters pulled the leash.
They didn't know what it had done, only that for a moment it had acted beyond their sight. That ignorance terrified them more than anything.
And yet, unnoticed by them, something had crossed over.
A man appeared in its kingdom its land. He too drifted in the dark, though unlike it, he was small, fragile, barely conscious. He tried to look up, to see beyond the sphere, but his strength failed. Still, he saw the stars glowing bright against the void.
One star drifted toward him, drawn by unseen hands. A gift.
It touched his chest and sank inward, fusing with his soul. Knowledge and memory rushed through him years of skill, precision, and craft not his own. He understood what he was. A Clothier.
And then the light was gone. The darkness fell away. He was being pulled back away from the stars, the sphere, the water back to pain, air, and noise. Back to the world.
He woke.
---
When he awoke, he felt… weird. Dehydrated, hazy, weak. The bed beneath him was too uncomfortable to be his own, and his head was pounding flooded with knowledge that shouldn't have been there. Clothing? Stitching? Ebonthread? Fellhide?
What the hell were those?
He remembered sewing and stitching armour, enhancing it, thickening it — making it strong enough for kings and emperors to wear. But it wasn't from his world. It was from The Elder Scrolls, from Skyrim. The memories didn't feel foreign though. They fit neatly into his mind, as natural as breathing. They were his, somehow.
But that was just the beginning of his problems.
When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself in an unfamiliar room. An old man sat at a desk nearby, tapping away at something that looked like a beat-up computer. The room itself looked just as tired wallpaper peeling off in patches, a cracked window with a bullet hole in one corner, and dust on everything.
When he shifted, the man noticed him immediately. He stood, picking up a weird-looking tablet something like a bulky mini iPad tapping on it before setting it down and dragging a chair closer. The guy wore odd armour: bright blue, with an insignia on his arm that tickled something at the back of his foggy mind. He couldn't quite place it yet.
The man spoke first, his voice calm but alert.
"How are you feeling? Light-headed? Any pain?"
He nodded at the light-headed part before forcing himself to speak. Better to stay calm. No idea who this was, if he had friends, or if this was some kind of kidnapping. He took a deep breath.
"Where am I?"
The words came out wrong or rather, different. He wasn't speaking English. Somehow, he still understood every word the man said, and vice versa. That was… new.
Before the man could respond, the door opened. Another figure stepped in short black hair, serious expression, same blue uniform. The first man turned toward him.
"Cold," he said with a nod.
The newcomer's voice was steady and measured.
"He's awake, then?"
He looked over him with a soldier's eyes, scanning him from head to toe. The older man nodded.
"Yes, about fourteen seconds ago. No alarming symptoms yet, but I did notice something strange about twenty minutes ago, his radiation levels began to rise for no apparent reason."
That was… concerning. Radiation levels increasing? Were they high before? Or did it not affect him the same way?
Before he could ask, the newcomer Cold nodded and turned to him.
"Welcome to the Zone, newcomer. I'm sure you've got questions, but before that, I've got a few of my own."
He nodded, keeping quiet. He wasn't in a position to argue.
"Good," Cold said. "First do you know how you got here?"
He shook his head. The doctor scribbled something down on a notepad.
"Do you know where you are?"
Another shake. More notes.
"What were you doing before you arrived here?"
That made him pause. His memories felt… fuzzy. He remembered walking through his neighbourhood something simple, ordinary.
"I was going for a walk," he said slowly.
The two men exchanged a brief, unreadable look before Cold continued.
"I see. Then one last question do you know what the Zone is?"
"The Zone?" Castaway echoed, frowning. "You mean… the Chernobyl Zone? Like, in Ukraine?"
Cold nodded once.
"That's right. And that's where you are. You appeared here after being… spat out by an anomaly."
He froze. Anomaly? That was straight out of S.T.A.L.K.E.R. the games. He blinked, then glanced again at Cold's uniform. The insignia clicked in his mind.
Clear Sky.
He stared at the man, disbelief mixing with dread.
"Prove it," he said quietly. "Prove this isn't some messed-up kidnapping."
Cold's expression softened with a hint of pity.
"That's easy enough. Look out the window."
Still shaky, Castaway stood, his legs trembling slightly as he walked to the nearest window. What he saw made his stomach drop.
The Clear Sky base.
It wasn't exactly one-to-one with what he remembered from the games there were a few more buildings, the fencing was extended, and the trees were thicker, almost enclosing the area completely. But it was real. Tangible. The air outside looked heavy and shimmered faintly the unmistakable "tingle" of radiation.
Cold stepped beside him, arms crossed, watching his reaction.
"I don't know how or why you were sent here," he said quietly. "But I don't think you can go back."
He nodded slowly, still staring out at the campfires and stalkers below.
"If you're going to live in the Zone, you'll have to adapt. It's harsh here — the most dangerous place on Earth. You'll need to make a name for yourself."
Cold turned to face him.
"Most people here don't use their real names. They choose something simple, something that fits them. I go by Cold."
He thought for a long moment. Then he let out a dry laugh.
"Castaway," he said finally. "Call me Castaway."
Cold gave a short nod.
"Alright, Castaway. You're standing in Clear Sky's main base and since it's meant to stay secret, we can't just let you walk out until we trust you. I was already planning to invite you to join us. That way, we can study what happened to you, and make sure whatever brought you here didn't… change anything important."
Castaway nodded. He understood. Leaving now would be suicide anyway.
Cold motioned to the old man, who was now fiddling with a Geiger counter again.
"That's Professor Kalancha everyone just calls him Professor. He'll keep an eye on you medically."
Kalancha gave a brief wave without looking up from his screen.
"Now," Cold continued, "before I introduce you to the rest of the team, do you have any useful skills? Cooking? Carpentry? Anything that might help you get by here?"
Castaway hesitated, then nodded. He did have a skill now somehow. One that came with the memories he'd woken up with.
"I'm good with stitching and repairing clothes," he said. "I can modify or reinforce fabric, if I've got the right materials. It's… what I specialize in."
Cold's eyebrows rose slightly.
"That's a damn useful skill in the Zone. We'll take you to our quartermasters see how good you are. Come on."