Devils and men were known to walk this land; at least the locals would forewarn you that they used to be men. Men that once worked the earth and tamed beast into livestock, but whatever happened all those years ago had corrupted this union. Is it possible for a place to become unholy and accursed? The small villages that encroached upon this forsaken area, also known as the 'Zone', had long since taken to wild superstition over rational thought. They embraced the supernatural but how else could they describe the scourge upon their land? Men that could tear flesh from bone and burn your skin from the slightest touch were unnatural after all. Beasts that had familiar shapes but gross abnormalities of the teeth and claws were becoming a common site. This abomination of nature could only be the work of the Devil, not man. The pragmatic men of science who study this land do not discourage local beliefs. It is better to fear a thing then to question a thing. Curiosity leads to action and mobility. Fear suppresses desire and promotes isolation. Some men do not fear however.

There was a dense fog that seemed to come out of nowhere and blanketed everything for miles with a milky wetness. These fogs were becoming a common occurrence this season. Under the influence of such gloom the mind tends to drift into dark depths where terrible things are imagined, things that can reach out of that fog and pull you into it. The village was home to a few thousand inhabitants, mostly farmers and craftsman who made their living off the land. It was a good way station for entrepreneurs, if you can call them that, who essentially hunted in the 'Zone'. Villagers had branded these men, and women, "Stalkers". They seemed to flow with the land, an unseen force that could counteract the perversion of God's law that was slowly infringing upon their humanity. These Stalkers used different tactics and strategies but the result was similar, opposing force to cleanse the transgression infecting these parts. This was not easy work but the profit was high. Profit attracts and can overcome fear. Most of them were bio-mercenaries who were as deadly as the prey they sought after. They relied heavily on technology, bio-implants, exo-skin, plasguns, and enviro-camouflage. A smaller, more isolated group was the Naturalists. They used their bodies as weapons; they were masters of adaptation and stealth. Most were trained in ancient forms of combat. They were cunning and quick fighters. Some opted for the implants which could increase speed or strength but most Naturalists frowned upon such devices.

The local governments turned a blind eye to activities concerning the 'Zone'. Men with the lust to kill were attracted like moths to a flame and this flame was deadly. The scientists preferred that the Stalkers captured their specimens alive or at least not mortally injured. It was not an easy task and more often than not the Stalker did not return. Stalkers that could accomplish these feats were rewarded substantially. A commission had been set up to fund the research of the 'Zone'. Many countries had contributed to the funding hoping that this research could lead to new biological or metaphysical weapons of war. Geneticists were particularly interested in the mutations that did not correlate to any previous data regarding radiation sickness and mutation. Something was different about this accident that led many to believe that perhaps Chernobyl was more than just a nuclear power plant.

Jolon was not a fearful man. He had grown up on Indian reservations until the age of eighteen. With no desire to continue his cerebral education he sought adventure in the military as so many impoverished teens do. It was easy for him and he thrived on the discipline and feeling of family it gave him. Years of service had hardened him and he specialized in reconnaissance and infiltration. He was the knife's edge; he was a judge of righteousness; he was a weapon. His interest in the 'Zone' was not monetary compensation but irreverence towards this opposition to nature. His grandmother had instilled in him an appreciation of the balance of man and nature. Any disruption in that balance could give the forces of evil a small window in which to leak into our world. She had warned that dark times were upon us. At the time Jolon assumed such jargon as outdated dogma and ignorance of the 'modern' world where demons and monsters and gods had left the playground. He let out a small chuckle at this thought. How wrong he had been, he had seen demons and monsters. Of course he thought man was to blame but how could he be sure, they looked not of this earth, creatures out of the dark recesses of a deviants mind.

His last venture into the 'Zone' had proved efficacious, it was for scouting purposes only but he had inadvertently stumbled across one of the Zones smaller inhabitants. He looked down at the bandage running across half his upper thigh where the "Slink" had attached itself to him and began releasing its store of deadly neurotoxins and organic acids. It is an elusive snake-like invertebrate with barbs running the length of its underside. Every stalker is privilege to the EZF&FDB (Exclusion Zone Flora & Fauna Database), a comprehensive list of known biology within the zone. It contains current anti-dotes and techniques to handle various creatures thus identified. Luckily he was carrying one such anti-dote for this particular nasty. Without it he would have been dead within minutes, his organs reduced to liquid. Dr. Neems, his assigned bio-technician, was quite pleased with this specimen that Jolon had managed to retrieve without much damage, to the slink at least. His superiors would be thrilled. This would be a largest sample of neurotoxin to date and would fetch a healthy reward. The more consistent a Stalkers work the better and more profitable assignments were to be had.

His room was the definition of efficient. It was for function not comfort. He looked in the small mirror, noticing the fine lines around his dark brown eyes. He had kept his jet black hair short since his military days. Jolon had spent the last four days resting and recovering from his previous outing. He never liked to over exert himself. Stalkers who were motivated by money could become careless. Once that trait developed they were usually never seen again. A loud knock on his door broke his current ruminations. "Jolon, you have a visitor" cracked the old voice. Natalie was the innkeeper and seldom disturbed him unless she deemed it important. "Go ahead, let him in" Jolon said. He knew the visitor was Dr. Neems. He was his only visitor for the last 3 months since his previous biotech was accidentally injected with a then unknown pathogen harvested from a deep river slug. It is a black, oversized, bulbous mass that seeps into the nearest orifice of the prey that happens to float by it. It kills by releasing its eggs, which spread throughout the body via the bloodstream, when hatched; the larvae consume the body from the inside out. Nasty way to die he thought.

Dr. Neems opened the door slowly, scientists always showed caution around a stalker. "Jolon you look much better, how is the leg healing, did our med-techs clean it up well?" he asked in a listless tone. "I'll live" Jolon spat. Dr. Neems was tall, wiry man in his early forties with flaxen, thinning hair and a nervous way about him "Not in a conversational mood, ey? Well, no worries. I have been sent to ask for your assistance on a most important errand." Dr. Neems spoke in his most pleasing voice. "I assume you need me to go track down some new nasty that has come to your attention?" Jolon quipped. "Actually we need data; you see we have learned that a certain group of scientists were working on a project that did not exactly have government approval. It turns out Chernobyl was home too more than a nuclear power plant; it hosted many research facilities and production plants. We believe that a group of renegade scientists were working out of one of these facilities on illegal genetic research." He concluded. "Why was it illegal?" Jolon pushed. "You do not need to know that at this time. All we need is for you to infiltrate their research facility and locate any data storage devices, most likely will be disk type media" He countered. "Fine, when do I start?" He said. "Immediately." Dr. Neems informed.

Dr. Neems had left the holo-cube, which contained all the details and schematics pertaining to his new assignment. I must have garnered trust on my last assignment or I would not be privy to such a task but I just don't trust that Neems, he is holding something back. They always think us Stalkers the fools. He was to be air dropped deeper into the Zone than he had ever ventured. They called it the "Line", because once crossed, you most likely failed to return. Radiation levels are lethal to humans this deep into the Zone without special equipment. He would be equipped with the latest in bioskin. A living exo-skin that covered the body with a thin membrane that was impervious to radiation levels far beyond lethal for human beings. It could absorb plasgun blasts by its ingenious way of heat distribution, not to mention its resistance to puncture and tearing. It transferred heat and perspiration away from the body keeping its occupant in a cool sixty-seven degree environment. The junction of the exo-skin around the face terminated in an oval, carbon-glass covering that allowed maximum visibility. A small circle towards the bottom of the face plate held the carbon-HEPA filter mechanism that is able to trap radioactive particles before they enter the lungs and supply the wearer with clean oxygen. To Jolons understanding the exo-skin had been created by splicing the genes of bacteria that was highly resistant to radiation with human skin. It had the ability to self repair, using the salts and proteins present in human perspiration. One other benefit thy built into the suit was a lack of naturally occurring pheromones, the wearer of the suit was virtually undetectable to even the most acute animal's sense of smell. No active stalker had yet to wear the suit in the Zone; Jolon did not mind being a guinea pig. He was here to kill evil not to fret over technicalities. Leave that up to the bureaucrats he surmised.

It was to be a day drop; the last dense fog of the early morning had lifted demanding an immediate deployment. Once a fog settles in it could take hours for it to lift. He disliked their insistence in this extra gear. The suit was bad enough, although it was not all that uncomfortable. He had been issued a new, light weight plasrifle. It could fire an astonishing 300 rounds a minute of superheated plasma that could literally melt most objects it came into contact with, a most dangerous weapon that's use had been the cause of a worldwide outlaw of the technology. Only with special amendments to the ban were Stalkers allowed use of such weapons He had been trained in the use of such weapons but it had been years since he used one, and they would be considered crude compared to the model he was holding. "2 minutes to deployment!" the voice boomed over the intercom. He was not entirely thrilled to be parachuted into unknown territory but then again he couldn't refuse this opportunity to discover more of what really happened out here in the Zone." 5...4...3...2...1...GO!" the voice commanded. Without hesitation Jolon leapt from the small, versachopter, a small, light weight helicopter used for quick deployment over short distances.

The chute opened and Jolon absorbed his surroundings. It was a mostly flat landscape with dense patches of pine forest, nestled in large expanses of grass plains. There was rocky hill country to the South. The land was green but had an ominous look to it. A look of desolation and foreboding. He knew some of what awaited him below. He knew never to assume expertise about the Zone; it will always surprise you. The ground approached quickly. The landing was uneventful and thankfully quiet. The last thing he needed was to make a racket and give away his position. What the hell did I get myself into this time? He mused while stowing away his chute and prepping his equipment. Although the ambient temperature was a brisk forty-six degrees he felt warm in his new skin. He inserted the power cells into his plasrifle and let it warm up to operating temperature. He was grateful for the daylight, although the suit's carbon glass, faceplate was auto set to discern many different spectral conditions basically adapting his vision in response to environmental light fluctuations whether it be night or day. He didn't even want to think about the price tag on this thing, this errand must be very special. Feeling confident that everything was in order he decided to make for the drop-shelter that was located to the Northeast of his current position. Drop-shelters were lifesavers at times. They were small shelters that could only be entered by a biometric finger scan analysis. In preparation for his mission Dr. Neems had done the scan then uploaded it to the drop-shelters onboard computer, essentially giving Jolon unlimited access to the Zone's 30+ drop-shelters. They had a limited ration store and some med kits (med kits contain many known anti-dotes for common Zone predators). Once inside they were assumed to be virtually impenetrable, made of dense carbonized alloys that could resist plasgun bursts.

It was about a two hour hike to the shelter. It was mostly grassland interspersed with patches of coniferous forest. He had seen little activity so far but was not complaining. He found it odd that he had stumbled across a small path in this wilderness; he assumed any traces would have long since vanished. Perhaps these Zone creatures are more organized than perceived. A small chill ran up his spine. Organization was bad, as far as he had seen most creatures hunted in isolation, no reports about animals that traveled in groups, and that's not the worst part, these are human footprints. He slowly withdrew himself away from this line of thinking, he had to keep his wits about him, no point in scaring yourself Jolon, he thought.

He thought he saw something cross his field of vision. It was a dark figure in the trees twenty yards to his left. Without hesitation he quietly made his away towards where the figure was last seen. The forest he was in seemed to grow darker around him, he sensed something nearby but wasn't sure which direction this presence was coming from. With a throaty groan his prey, or was he the prey, lunged at him. It came out of the small under growth from the trees directly in front of him. He was on his back and had let instinct take over, the creature had human form but that was all that was human about it. Its skin was scaly and leathery with a ghostly paleness. Crisscrossing its torso were dark yellow veins, which were in stark contrast to its bloodless skin. The body was dense and the appendages were wrapped with knotty muscle. The fingers which tore at his pseudo flesh were elongated with hideous, blood stained claws three inches in length. It was the face, though, that filled Jolons mind with terror. The eyes were small and sunken into the skull, dark, beady little orbs that were filled with hunger. The mouth was a disfigured protrusion of the jaw; it extended inches and was filled with sharp, ghastly teeth. It bit at the flesh of the suit and drooled over his faceplate. His bioskin suit smoked where the skin of this creature came into contact with it. Fearing that the suit would be breached shortly Jolon moved with sudden grace. He reached for its right arm and pulled it behind its back almost to the point of breaking. It did not slow this monster. Jolon used all his strength to up end the beast and give himself some breathing room. The suit was holding up it seemed which gave him a small hope of survival. His plasrifle had been knocked out of arms reach when this thing had assaulted him. He reached for the combat knife hidden at his side. In an instant he had slit its throat. It did not slow, this actually seemed to add aggression to its attack, and it lifted him off the ground and knocked him ten feet down the small incline towards a thicket of trees. It looked at him with cognition and with a gargled, inhuman voice it spoke to him, "I....will....tear...the....flesh... from...your...bones... and...drink. the...blood... from... your...veins.". Jolon looked to his right and noticed the plasrifle within reach. The creature advanced on him with terrible speed, he rolled to his right and secured the rifle in one fell swoop, he only had seconds to steady it before it was on top of him. Brilliant blue globs of plasma erupted from the barrel searing through the creatures innards but not stopping its advance. No way that thing just survived that, I guess I have no choice. Jolon held the trigger down unleashing a stream of dazzling, incandescent plasma, which discharged violent jets of blood and steam when it made contact with his targets vulnerable flesh, literally evaporating the flesh and bone. He knew that if he held the trigger for just a few more seconds he would reach the threshold. It's at this point where the plasma raises the atoms it comes into contact with to incredibly high energy levels. When the critical threshold is crossed the energy build up becomes unstable and is released in a devastating display of energy that annihilates the target and anything else in its path. His finger released from the trigger and the light show ceased. The air was filled with bluish thick smoke that choked up his lungs. He coughed violently. He knew the source of this smoke and did not like to think of it mixing with his own blood. When the smoke cleared he studied what remained of his attacker, there was little flesh left and it sizzled where bluish flames licked it. Jolon looked at it in amazement, no human would hold up to such devastation. This must have been the creature noted in the latest reports; they had dubbed it a "Ghoulie".