Jacob had left Petrovsk roughly an hour ago and was just reaching The Bridge. There hadn't been an emission since he last crossed it, and he knew anomalous activity there was low, so he moved through the canyon with relatively little difficulty. After about a kilometer and a half of travel, the canyon opened up to a field, marking the border of the Old Cordon. Nomad's head still hurt from what must have been a drunken night which he still couldn't remember, but he was also struck with the feeling that he was forgetting something.

Jacob stopped to check himself over. His AK-107 was slung over his shoulder, the ever so familiar Wakizashi held on to his belt in the small of his back, and the Pernach was held securely in his thigh holster. His pockets contained his anomaly detector, geiger counter and PDA, and his gas mask was in the small bag slung over the shoulder opposite his AK. He never really took anything out of his backpack, so he didn't even bother checking it, though he still felt like he was forgetting something. "Not like it's the first time," he muttered. Jacob did get this feeling quite often, even when he hadn't forgotten everything, so he chocked it up to business as usual and got back up to head to the Garbage.

He scanned the field, checking for any boar or bandits which may get in his way. Finding nothing, he started walking again, veering towards the road which would take him to the Garbage. He began to wonder what exactly it was that Kruglov wanted with him. Furthermore, what was it with that last comment? Jacob took the PDA out of his pocket and read the message again. [i]"We may all pay for it later."[/i] What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Whatever it meant it sounded serious, and if it was as serious as it sounded, it was likely that he wouldn't be the only stalker they asked for.

Jacob's stomach growled a moment later. He stopped and looked around once more, making sure nothing would get the drop on him before he sat himself down and began to look for one of the loaves of bread in his backpack. It didn't take long for his hand to grab onto the familiar piece of food. It was stale as shit, but most bread in the zone was, and it's not like it was any less nutritious for it. Or maybe it was. As long as it didn't make him sick, Jacob didn't care. He closed his backpack and threw it onto his back, chomping down on the bread as he pressed on towards The Garbage.

There came a point where he stopped. He wasn't sure what it was, but he thought he had heard something, just on the fringes of his hearing range. He wasn't even entirely sure if he had heard it at all, but it was better to take it as a legitimate sign of a threat than to ignore it. Jacob took his AK-107 into his hands, keeping it lowered but ready to fire at a moment's notice, then began to scan the area. The checkpoint that opened up to The Plains was just a hundred meters behind him, and he couldn't even see the bridge that cut through the middle of the Old Cordon yet. There were plenty of stalkers who knew that Jacob wasn't the kind of person to screw with, but that didn't stop some rad-brained bandits from trying.

Several moments passed, and Jacob was about to just say "screw it" and walk on when he saw movement come from the checkpoint. The tall grass provided some concealment, but he knew he needed better cover, and he wasted no time in ducking behind a bush next to a tree. He brought his rifle up to scan the checkpoint. At first glance he didn't see anything in specific, but then something moved again. He looked up at the tower and spotted the outline of a body in a tracksuit. Fucking bandits. The one he had spotted likely wasn't alone, though they didn't seem to be looking in his direction. They were probably waiting for the next poor unsuspecting rookie to come through, then either hold him up or just gun him down. Probably the former, though it was hard to say.

Jacob decided to wait and see what would happen. There were several reasons for doing this, all of which were done for the sake of gaining a tactical advantage. If he waited for someone to show up, they may prove helpful in dispatching the bandits, or at least provide a distraction. Furthermore, Jacob didn't have a lot of information to draw on, not even an exact number of how many bandits there were. He was guessing anywhere between six and twelve, and with that much uncertainty it was better to have an exact number. Moreover, if the bandits reveal themselves, Jacob could get an idea of what sort of weaponry they were using and act accordingly.

Jacob lowered his rifle and began biding his time. Someone was bound to come through eventually, and Jacob was ready to interdict at a moment's notice.