Darina nodded at his answer, while mentally figuring out how far that might take her from territory she and her fellow Reds usually operated in. She knew Viktor and his companions were experienced, but these vehicles told her definitively that his crew was definitely not messing around. The bandit part of her wanted to drool over the equipment they had, fervently wishing they had the same. Sure, everything was made out of scavenged materials, but next to these vehicles, the bandit “trucks”, if one could call such things trucks, looked all the more like the junk they had come from. She whistled, seeing the formidable jeep with the machine gun turret.<br/>She was distracted from the sight by Rock Hammer, who, after what seemed like a moment of hesitation, walked out to formally introduce himself. It hadn’t occurred to her that he hadn’t actually done so to anybody else. Despite everything, she still felt sorry for him, even though it looked like things were settling back to “normal” for him. She returned her attention to the vehicles and decided to get onto the flatbed where the others were. As much as she wanted to ride the turreted jeep, she figured she shouldn’t press her luck with these Stalkers. Best join the outsiders, for now. Maybe she could find a way to curry favor and replenish her supplies, lest she find herself on the wrong end of that machine gun. Taking one last look at Moscow, she still hoped to see any sign of the Reds coming after her, maybe finding the sign she had left behind in the entrance to the tunnel that led to the Underbelly she had left behind, but nothing stared back at her except the dusty shell of what had once been a great city.<br/><br/>The journey was oddly relaxing. It reminded her of her own trips home, after a successful day of raiding, or after an uneventful run of collecting ‘protection tax’ from smaller villages within their territory. Days like that, she could fool herself, even for a few minutes, that all was right in the barren world, or in her corrupted blood. She glanced at the man with the scars again, noticing how he, too, had relaxed, a smile on his face. How could he have such a serene face in a time and place like this? Though, perhaps a person who had the power to suck the life out of even Rock Hammer had fewer worries than others. She took stock of her other companions.<br/><br/>An odd bunch they did make, mutants and humans together. She snorted. There was a time she would kick anybody in the nuts if they so much as acknowledged what she was, but now, after the meal she and Rock had just shared in the Underbelly, she might as well use the word freely. “You know,” she said to the group aloud, “if we’re gonna spend an indefinite period of time together, we might as well get acquainted. I have got to call you lot by a name, even if it’s a made-up one, right?” It had also just occurred to her that the only person she had really formally introduced herself to was the man named Scott. In the confusion on the way to the Underbelly, she had lost track of him. Did they enter Moscow with him, or did they part ways some time before that? She must have been too mad with the Hunger to have paid attention to his leaving.<br/><br/>As they left Moscow behind and entered the woods, Darina caught a scent of something that chilled her more than the air, though she wasn’t sure<span style="font-style: italic">what</span>she was smelling A fluctuation in the temperature of the air and scalded meat. As she didn’t have any good view, she watched Viktor climb out to hang from the flatbed’s support; something told her she didn’t want to be the first to see what the hell was wreaking havoc with her senses. As they got closer, Darina didn’t need to look, her face wrenched into disgust as the smells registered. Fire. Burnt bodies. The bandit decided to step out of the vehicle anyway, never mind if Viktor only invited the other guy.<br/><br/>What she couldn’t have guessed was the state these bodies were in. The Boilers explained the traces of warm air she felt, but the pits were another story. The charred smells came from them, and she didn’t really feel a desire to confirm what her senses told her she would find down there. Instead, she settled on the grotesque sight of the mangled form crucified between two trees. Anger shook her body before his name even registered in her mind. For a moment, she wondered if the Reds’ rival bandits had done this, or had done something similar. But no. She was sure this wasn’t bandit handiwork. Bandits took what they needed, or, sometimes, more than they needed, and used force when necessary. This was the work of someone who needed something else other than survival.<br/><br/>Was that why she was so angry now? She couldn’t really explain it; she hadn’t considered herself sentimental, or soft-hearted, but she remembered that Scott helped save her ass from demons not too long ago. And here he was, a mutilated corpse. She wasn’t aware that she had been rooted to the spot all this time, her fists clenched, as the two men cut the man down and scavenged what they could from his equipment. The practical side of her chided her for not getting in on it, but she didn’t have the heart to. Mercifully, the sight and smell of Scott’s wounds didn’t stir the Hunger in her, but it seemed that her rage over what she had just seen was bubbling just beneath her skin. There was nothing she could use to purge this sudden vengeful streak with, though; she couldn’t hear, see, or smell any indication of enemies lurking nearby, so after watching the two of them push Scott’s body into the pit, she silently climbed back into the flatbed, a lot more sober than when they had left Moscow.<br/><br/>Thankfully, an hour passed before they arrived, which was enough to cool her temper some. She no longer wanted to maim something, but she was filled, unexpectedly, with something close to sadness for the way Scott died. That was no way to go. She looked up at the flag with the Stalker’s insignia on it, and she pursed her lips. This was it, wasn’t it? Where she would decide where she would go, what she was going to do next. When Viktor said “Welcome home”, she knew she had to make a decision. Sighing, Darina followed them into the compound.