Shortage

When Elvira told me there was a shortage of medical supplies, and salewas specifically, she was not joking. As I took care of business for Prapor and others, I was constantly on the lookout for them. Checking bodies of operatives, abandoned Emercom camps and staging areas, any place there might be medical supplies.  I went over to the Ultra mall - I remember Emercom had set up a staging area outside it during the evacuation of Tarkov. There were abandoned ambulances but no salewas. I even ventured into the mall, which is the demesne of that psychopath who calls himself "Killa" and cleared out a little dispensary that used to be there.  But not a single salewa did I find.

It occurred to me, I could probably just make one. My hideout isn't exactly a medical grade environment, but having been the victim of gunshots, I can tell you that "Is it sterile?" is never an immediate concern  (unlike "Am I going to die?"). The empty red wrappers with their white on red cross and labelled  Комплект первой помощи were not hard to find. And I had plenty of other meds and shit, so I fished some of those wrappers out of trash heaps, cleaned them up, put meds-and-shit in them, and took them to Elvira.

She seemed genuinely happy to receive them.  Cynically, she'll probably sell them for tens of thousands of rubles, but I felt it was more than just the happiness from quick profit.  And then she told me that the water table is likely being poisoned by some chemical factory leak and the good remaining water horded by one of the local warlords. 

What struck me is that she seemed genuinely concerned about the good people of Tarkov. And she's trying to do something about it. All I want to do is get out of Tarkov. If I was standing in front of a door leading out of here, and between it and me were my own mother, I'd pull out my 9mm and clear a path. That's how badly I want to get out of here. I don't give a shit about anyone here in Tarkov.  But her concern, it surprised me. And my lack of concern, well, that surprised me too. That gulf that separates her and me, or maybe that separates who I once was from who I have become, I could see across it but could not fathom its depth.

She asked me to help find where some water is being hoarded and to get her some gas analyzers. I don't see how either is going to help me get out of here. I'd like to help and all, but not my problem. She offered me money and a cut of the water. Money and water? OK I'll help, I'll pretend to be some knight in shining armor.

As she paid me for the salewas she caught me staring at some picture that was thumbtacked behind the counter. 

"You like the photo?"

"Yeah. Who is it? Is she an actress?"

"So charming! No, that's me. It's from a long time ago. I was a lot younger then, and a little skinnier."

I wasn't sure what to say.  "You must have had a lot of boyfriends."  Oh, wait, that might be taken the wrong way.

She didn't directly reply to my comment. "Would you like to have the photo?"

"Yeah", I said, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

"Are you going to masturbate with it?"

"Probably" I squeaked.

"Then it's yours" and she slid it across the counter, winking as her hand brushed mine. I put it inside my vest, stammered thanks, and retreated. What am I getting myself into?