This world really was strange—who would've thought that the random person they saved on the road would turn out to be the son of the guerrilla leader?
After a brief round of formal introductions, Sneydar spoke first. "Thank you for saving my child. I heard you're looking for the pilot. Are you Americans?"
Owen nodded, acknowledging their identity. He took out a photo and pointed to the man pictured. "We're looking for him."
It was a photo of Chris. Sneydar studied it, then said, "I'm sorry—you're too late. He's already gone."
"Gone? Which direction?"
Owen had already suspected as much. Earlier, he had quietly checked the signal scanner—it had briefly flashed a reading, meaning Chris had been close by. But he'd been tied up on the battlefield at the time, and the signal had vanished shortly after.
"Sorry—it was chaos. I don't know. Boor is our best fighter. I sent him to escort the pilot out."
Sneydar didn't want to admit that he had ordered the pilot's evacuation because he thought their group was doomed.
Owen fell into deep thought. This wouldn't work. Before, the pilot's movements could be inferred, but now there were no leads at all. That guerrilla could've taken him anywhere, and they had no means of contact.
"Sneydar, what do we do? They're about to breach the perimeter…"
A bloodied soldier came rushing in, panicked. The battle was still raging from another direction. Two tanks, much like the ones Owen's team had faced earlier, were advancing steadily. A cluster of soldiers followed close behind, peeking out occasionally.
"Have some men stall them. Everyone else—prepare to withdraw."
Sneydar issued his orders. The warriors dispersed to carry them out, and others began gathering what gear they could.
"Bullseye, buy them some time."
Owen gave the command, and Swagg moved out. The guerrillas' tactical capability was abysmal—aside from leaving bodies in their wake, they hadn't slowed the tanks even slightly.
Herman hoped Omega would perform another miracle, but Owen knew that wasn't possible. Earlier, they had managed to hijack a tank only because it had broken down. Now, despite one fewer tank on the field, trying to hijack another in the middle of an infantry escort would be suicide.
Still, they couldn't take the tank, but they could slow its advance.
Pfft.
A soft pop echoed as a shot from the underbrush hit a tank gunner squarely, silencing him instantly. Then came a second shot—the other tank's machine gunner dropped dead as well.
Seeing Omega immediately neutralize the two biggest threats, Sneydar's eyes lit up. But before he could speak, Owen urged, "Withdraw—now. We won't be able to hold them for long."
The spark of hope in Sneydar's eyes dimmed. Owen didn't care—he simply waved his team forward and moved out with the retreating guerrillas.
"Man, you're amazing…"
Fred gave Swagg a dramatic hug as he returned with his rifle. He was about to say more when Owen's retreat order came over the comms, forcing him to bottle up his words.
Suddenly, cheers erupted. The guerrillas shouted excitedly in Croatian, hugging and celebrating.
"What's going on?"
Omega's members were baffled. Sneydar, visibly pleased, explained in English, "Portman. Your man just killed Portman."
Owen turned to Swagg. The rest of the team did the same. Was it possible? One of the two machine gunners Swagg had casually sniped had turned out to be one of the two "dogs" Herman had asked them to kill.
Feeling the stares, Swagg shrugged helplessly. "I didn't know. I just aimed for the gunners…"
Well, a blind cat had caught a dead rat. Still, they had fulfilled their promise.
Portman's death had a huge impact. He was one of General Bourbon's top men, personally in charge of the general's elite guard. The enemy panicked. The tanks stopped advancing and began firing indiscriminately, swinging their turrets at anything that looked suspicious. Thunderous blasts echoed in every direction.
Taking advantage of the confusion, the guerrillas quickly retreated through the area where Owen's team had previously fought. Thanks to their familiarity with the terrain, they soon vanished into the wilderness.
…
Elsewhere in the open fields, two figures ran swiftly—Boor leading Chris without stopping for a moment. A sniper was on their trail.
Pfft—pfft—
Bullets chased them, thudding into tree trunks nearby. Boor zigzagged with Chris through the woods. He was an experienced guerrilla, well-versed in evading snipers in forested terrain. That was the only reason the pilot was still alive.
The distant sounds of war had long faded. Sasha aimed down his scope, following the figures with his barrel. He found an opening and squeezed the trigger.
Pfft-pfft—two shots missed.
Those two were too cunning. They never ran in straight lines, constantly using reverse patterns, throwing Sasha's aim off.
As they grew more distant, Sasha stopped shooting and gave chase through the forest, blue tracksuit flashing through the trees.
…
Back on the other side, Omega had helped the guerrillas retreat to a mountain hollow. The group was taking a short rest. During the withdrawal, they had split into several smaller units to confuse the enemy and make pursuit impossible.
"Thank you for your generous help…"
Sneydar, still catching his breath, offered heartfelt thanks. Without Owen's team, the guerrillas might have been completely wiped out. It was still unclear how many of the smaller units had survived, but as long as there were seeds, there was hope.
Herman also came over to thank and apologize to Omega.
"You've done what you promised. I'll help you find the pilot—I swear."
"Yes, my men and I will help however we can. I'll send them out soon to gather information. Don't worry—we'll get a lead on their whereabouts soon."
Sneydar chimed in, genuinely wanting to help. Omega had done so much for them, yet there was little they could offer in return.
"No, not yet. I need a different favor from you."
Owen spoke confidently. After missing the pilot several times, he finally realized that aimless searching wouldn't work.
"What kind of favor?"
Sneydar and Herman exchanged curious glances.
Owen leaned forward with a mysterious smile.
"It's like this…"
______
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