<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Later that week</span></span></div><br/><br/>Days passed at the Stalker base. Viktor and his crew enjoyed their down time, and the new company would have had plenty of time to settle in more. But their rest couldn't last forever, and jobs passed out among the hunting party separated much of them. Viktor decided he'd see if some of the new folks could do some good out in the wilds. While the base was a safe haven, they couldn't stick around forever if they didn't do their part in keeping things going. It was a significant amount of new people at once, some very large, and while not all of them stayed there were still a good number there. Work around the base would have been a good, safe, and productive job for some of them, but Viktor saw potential in a lot of them to be real Stalkers.<br/><br/>One morning, Viktor entered the lounge, geared up with his new equipment. His outfit and vest were the same, but both of his newer guns were worn at his back and hip. The old revolver was still carried, the holster moved onto his lower back to accomodate both handguns. Some adjustment was done with other aspects of his loadout, including a knife on the front of his backpack's shoulder strap and a refill of field supplies inside the bag proper. In all, it was clear he wasn't going to be staying inside for much longer. To those inside, he spoke clearly of his intentions.<br/><br/>"So, it's time to head out. I've got a job to head into the city, clear out a radio tower some crazies are using to broadcast their station. It's not gonna be an easy one, but I think you people have what it takes to help pull it off. I'm heading out within the hour. Anyone who wants to come, meet me out by the trucks. It's gonna be a long trip." Whoever decided to come was welcome, and he needed all the help he could get. Of course, he also hoped to bring someone more experienced, in the event something went wrong or the group needed to split. As he left through the lounge's front door, he pulled his PDA from its pocket and typed out a message to Nikita.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Hey,<br/>Heading out for tower job now. Meet at the truck. The cool one.<br/>Don't be late,<br/>Viktor</span><br/><br/>Once more, he stowed the PDA away, and pulled his hood up as he walked out into the chillier outside air. The snow was starting to melt, but the clouds were low and dense as ever. The fog itself was mercifully light after a few dozen yards. Higher visibility was always nice to have, but at the same time, it made someone who was used to stalking around in its cover feel a bit exposed. Viktor rolled his shoulders a bit uncomfortably, then made his way to the rear lot of the base. Under an awning fashioned from scrap metal and wood, there rested a large vehicle hidden under a tarp. The aforementioned "cool one," as he'd described it. Leaning against the covered truck, he crossed his arms and waited for his company.