"No, thanks," Konrad grunted, but he wasn't firm enough.
"Come on, mate," Dmitry moaned, bumping his shoulder. "Lesssdothiss—"
Thank the spirits the guards took their guns.
Had they not, this idiot would have been on his way to get himself killed in the Wild Territories.
"Look," Konrad sighed. "I like Swiss cheese, but that doesn't mean I want to become one."
Not that he knew anything about guns. But he knew how expensive everything was in that country. And having a mercenary group carry their armory sounded a bit scary.
"But maaaaaan—"
He made three futile attempts to turn him down.
The first one was that of logic.
"Look, I'm only here to capt—I mean talk with Strelok," Konrad set the record straight. "I know you're a patriot, but I've no time for heroics."
"Youdungiddit," Dmitry slurred. "Your guy works for the science dudes, man."
And his slurring wasn't the worst thing. He'd switched to Ukrainian at some point.
"Tse naykrashchyy sposib pryvernuty yoho uvahu."
Which, according to the Barkeep, meant "That's the best way to get his attention."
"That's fair and all," Konrad grumbled. "But it's too dangerous when I can't shoot for shit."
"You? You can't?!" the Captain yelled. "I ain't buyin' that after you dealt with those bandits."
Oh. How did he survive without mentioning it for half a day?
"Three of those blew themselves up with their own grenade. I only shot one in the back."
That said, his magic was a decisive factor in that battle.
And this was not enough to convince Dmitry after he drank himself into a superhero.
"Come onnnnnnn, man," he pleaded. "What's a few snipers compared to a ballistic missile?!"
That was the point, Konrad decided to shut that drunkard up.
"That fluke almost killed me, and it's a secret, anyway," he gritted out. "Forget it ever happened."
Especially since his magic no longer worked.
Not like he'd admit that. Or let anyone else find out that he used to be a sorcerer.
Which made his third attempt all the less convincing.
"Barkeep," Dmitry yelled. "He does not believe. How can I prove to him that he's awesome?!"
Their grizzled host had fun at least.
"I've no idea whether he is or not," he laughed. "This is the first time I've met you both."
But he didn't leave it at that, and it seemed like Konrad's luck was running out.
"Well, we have a small arena in the back, with some airsoft guns for practice and stuff," he offered with a grin. "Stalkers like to make bets on those matches sometimes. Wanna try?"
And to that, the Captain's eyes lit up.
Of course it did.
"That," he yelled. "We're doing that, and I'll show you how good you are."
Even though he wasn't.
In thirty minutes, every Stalker knew, too.
They gathered at the arena, which was nothing more than a cluttered warehouse at the back.
Old, scattered crates served as a maze, while the audience sat on the scaffolding outside.
Well, at least Konrad didn't have to die to prove that he was bad at the gun business.
"You and me," Dmitry demanded. "A pistol duel. Whoever gets in five lethal shots first wins."
And despite his friend being drunk as hell, Konrad lost within thirty seconds.
Not that it caught him by surprise.
He spent his entire youth dodging swings and learning edge-alignment.
None of that was relevant in a gunfight.
And without his magic—
"Hmm, okay. It wasn't exactly a fair match," the Captain mumbled, scratching his head. "I have military training, and I'm pretty good. But I'm sure that next to the average Stalker—"
He forced Konrad into five more random duels, which he managed to lose, all in record time.
"But, um—we work great together," Dmitry claimed, still not giving up. "Let's do a two-vs-two."
That, they did win. But only because the Hero of Kyiv carried the match on his back.
Heck, he had even agreed to a five-versus-one, including Konrad on the enemy team.
Minutes later, the Captain cashed in two thousand hryvnia from the bets alone.
But Konrad had never seen a man be so depressed after a clean victory like that.
"I'm, uh," Dmitry mumbled, starting to sober up. "A little disappointed in you, mate."
Which was reassuring but also hurt.
"We both know what I'm good at, and I won't do that here," Konrad said with a shrug. "Well, if you want to take me on a sword duel, I'll be at your service. But let's drop this sniper thing."
And with the sun finally dipping below the horizon, that should have been the end of it.
The Captain had to admit Konrad wasn't cut out for modern warfare, and they were about to move on. But that's when Walther and Yuri flipped the whole 100 Rads Bar on its head.
"Oh, thank God the Hero of Garbage is still here," the smaller one yelled, ordering a drink.
"Told you they wouldn't be far yet," Walther said with a smirk. "With the Blowout and all."
The Barkeep only raised an eyebrow.
"You know these two?" he asked, pouring them more vodka.
"Know 'em?!" the leader of the Wolves hollered. "Should've seen what he did while drunk."
No, yeah, Konrad would never drink again.
"The military guy?" the Barkeep asked. "Yeah, he bested every Stalker in the arena, all at once."
That gave them a pause. But not enough to let Konrad escape.
"That's not bad, but I'm talking about him," Yuri yelled, patting his back. "This dude's a genius."
Walther dropped a secure container on the counter with a loud thud.
And without the slightest hint of secrecy, he opened it up for everyone to see.
Guh. No wonder the bandits targeted them.
"This is a brand new artifact," the Wolves' leader claimed, pulling something out. "At least I haven't seen it in a catalogue so far. And we can all thank its existence to this kid here."
Konrad blinked.
"To me?" he scowled, taking a look at the peculiar item.
He would have scanned it with his magic, too, but it still refused to work.
It looked like a slice of DNA made of rebar steel and slime.
Stupid? Well, he had no better way to describe it.
"I call it Mama's Beads," Yuri announced. "Remember? We threw those dogs into the anomalies."
"We wanted to harvest 'em by noon," Walther added. "But the Blowout hit us hard."
It was easy to tell how excited they were, cutting each other off every other sentence.
"One of them had a Meat which is already nice. But the other," Yuri kept getting louder.
"Okay, okay, I get it," Konrad interrupted before they went overboard. "What does it do?"
"Oh? Curious?" the tiny commander asked, shoving it into his hands. "Watch."
And with the same momentum, he grabbed Walther's shot glass and threw it at Konrad.
Full force.
"What the—" He flinched, stumbling back, but nothing happened.
When he opened his eyes, the glass was already on the floor.
Did he miss? From that distance?!
No. It only took a few seconds of dead silence to make him realize that wasn't it.
The glass should've hit Konrad square on the chest, but it didn't.
And that strange-looking artifact in his hand was starting to heat up.