Denso Cooper, an American who'd made his new home in and around The Zone, was sitting cross legged to hold his food/Item pouch, in an apartment across the street from an old factory, complete with one smokestack. The creaks of his chair were all that could be heard , aside from his spoon scraping the inside of his recently emptied tin can. He did his best to get his money's worth, and thouroghly cleaned the can. Afterwards, he stuffed it into his pouch, and leaned back in the chair, stomach full. The chair creaked in protest against his stretching. The stretching would pull his outer jacket apart at the front, and let it fall to his sides, to hang. Laying in wait, inside worn leather shoulder holsters, were two American Colt .45's. Under the holsters, he wore a shirt made from a Chem suit, which included the scrunched sleeves at his wrists. Denso didnt have too much protection, but rarely did he need to go deep within the dreadfully dangerous Zone. His outer Jacket was made from Kevlar, and had an inner lining made from an old Enviro-suit. Perhaps not the greatest protection, but it was better than nothing.

Denso made his living my stealing weapons from rival Stalker's storages. For days, he'd watch a well equiped stalker. And for days, he'd been watching one. There was a rumor of someone having an OICW. Such an old, but extremely effective weapon. The ten round 20mm grenade launcher was almost enough to drool over. Denso decided to investigate, and 'lo and behold what did he find? A Stalker whom he'd never seen, OICW on his back. At the door of the factory, the unknown stepped over something... A tripwire, Denso quickly figured. It didnt matter... After a while, the unknown left, with a large pack on his back, now. Did he leave it? Of course he did. The pack was probably full of items to sell to a local dealer. Denso was on the move now, from his post inside the old apartment building just outside the industrial district.

The street was quiet... Empty. A small breeze had picked up, and old, faded peices of paper, and assorted lightweight trash brushed across the street. Denso had one pouch with him, and his handguns. The pouch's contents held a bungie cord, which he tested with a sack of bricks, untrusting of the Stalker he bought it from. And a grappling hook, complete with rope. Our hero made his way across the street, up the grassy bank, and down the side of the old factory. The tin siding was beginning to rust. Wasnt very pleasent to look at, however, he'd not seen anythign different in all his five years of scavenging. He made his way down to the ladder, which was solidly welded together. Being the cautious one he is, however, he pulled and tested each step before it was used. At the top, he pulled himself onto the tinned roof, and made his way to the smoke stack, and climbed it's ladder in the same fashion. The tin creaked and gave a little, under his weight, but he was quick to step. At the top of the smoke stack, he finally was. He could see the room he'd been in earlier... "Such good spots I choose...," he thought to himself. With a smirk, he began tying off the bungie cord, onto the ladder, then around his ankles. The grapple was pulled, next, feeding rope directly from the pouch. The grapple was weaved through two ladder steps and hooked to a third, done easily with a lean, and nimble arms and hands.

He stood, now, and looked out at the wasted Chernobyl... So beautiful... His white hair, shoulder length, blew in the stronger breeze. His hair'd been white his entire life, though being born without pigment in it is the true cause. He'd heard wive's tails about why it was white. Something he no longer worried about. With a limp legged fall, he went headfirst into the smokestack. Denso wasnt known for his sly and sneaky moves, or raw strength, like other Stalkers. He was known for his complete insanity. His daringness to do something... Things no one would expect anyone else to do. The soot covered walls of the long since used smokestack rushed by so quickly. The light at the bottom grew larger, and larger... The OICW was right infront of him, along with an assortment of grenades and smaller handguns... What LUCK! The unknown Stalker used the Smokestack's furnace as a storage! Just a simple snatch and he'd have it. But what's this...? Hands were seen, reaching for his stalked prize. Familiar hands. Half his body came out of the smokestack. His eyes feasted on the surprised face of his Ex-Lover, Fina Xanth, who'd obviously had her eyes on this expensive object aswell. Denso's hands clamped down on the weapon, and he gave a small kiss to the air, a quick goodbye to the female. He was snatched back into the smokestack's sooty depths. The rifle followed him, trailed by Fina's screamed cursings. He'd make up for it later.

He began bending at the waist. He'd only be brought back up the smokestack a little over halfway. At the end of his bend, the rifle was slung. With free hands, he grabbed at the rope, which had been feeding from his pouch. Denso snapped to a stop, and slammed against the inside of the smokestack with a grunt. He began climbing... Eventually, he reached the top, and pulled himself up, to sit. He examined the rifle. Well taken care of. Clean. Full clips. And heavy as all hell. The bungie and rope were stuffed back into his sack when he'd finished with them. The rifle slung over his back. Nimbly, he made his way down to the ground, and checked for a waiting Fina. None. And exit, did our hero, to gather his things from his observation post, and be on his way. Perhaps to find the rare 20mm grenades for this beauty of a rifle on his back.

Story and idea by: Bradley S. Boykin
All characters except Fina Xanth, created by: Bradley S. Boykin