''It's called synesthesia.''

''It's called what?''

''Synesthesia. Do I need to spell it out for ya, mate?''

''Nah, no need to, I recall some of that shit. I had been to college.''

''I used to teach at college.''

The stalkers were oddly calm about the fact that most of them were nearly dead. Porfiry had come across this scene about a few minutes ago, after hearing gunfire while walking through the woods. He did not know what had led to this and he believed that the three surviving stalkers did not want to remember the details, considering how they were all injured. There was one, who called himself Blanket, who had somehow survived getting his foot blasted off and his skull cracked by a ricocheting piece of shrapnel. The miraculously unscathed medic of the group, Match, had cut the remains of his foot off and bandaged his wounds. There was one slowly dying that called himself Jackson and mostly spoke in English. Match had given him a cigarette, being unable to treat his multiple gunshot wounds. As a gesture of good intent, Porfiry had given them a bottle of vodka. And now here they were, sitting down talking about random stuff, though Porfiry was no longer able to keep his curiosity in check. 

''So, would you fellas mind if I asked you what happened here?''

''Treason. Polar and Hound tried to outsmart us and get our loot. Hound got Mustache and Jackson before I shot him, and then Blanket blew Polar up.'' Match nodded at Blanket's lost foot. ''It didn't go well.''

''That's Polar.'' Blanket pointed at a corpse that was essentially split open. ''Whoa.'' Porfiry said. ''Quite a scene you've got there.'' Jackson coughed. ''You want some vodka, mate?'' Jackson's head moved forwards slightly, then he lurched over on the pool of blood that was leaking out of him. His cigarette was extinguished by the red liquid. ''Poor Jackson. He was a good guy.'' Match said as he leaned to his side, reached over to Jackson's face and closed his eyelids. ''I would bury him but I need to get Blanket back to safety. Speaking of that, we've lingered here for far too long. I don't think the next person to find us in this mess would be as friendly. You going to lend a hand?''

''Hurm. There's a Duty outpost not far away from here. I think we could carry him there. I know the commander of the outpost, you two should be fine.'' 

An hour later, Porfiry received a message while watching Match and Commander Basarov of the outpost play backgammon. At first, he thought Blanket had poked him from the mattress, but after looking behind himself and seeing Blanket asleep, he realized it was his PDA. Surprised, Porfiry sat on a stool and started checking the device. The message was from his old friend, Kruglov. The two had spent quite some time together back when Porfiry wasn't in bad terms with the Duty guards there. It had been quite some time since Porfiry had seen him.

''We may all pay for it later.''

Porfiry decided that it was time for a visit.