Once he got rid of Mama's Beads, the exhaustion and sickening warmth drained out of him.
Finally.
Only then did he realize it was pretty cold on the top floor.
It was already winter, after all, but he welcomed it, lying on the concrete to finally relax, and—
"Uh, oh," the radio cracked to life. "What does your PDA tell you?" Dmitry asked.
That question made Konrad shudder and reach for the palm-sized device to check.
"Huh? Nothing," he mumbled. "You're still too far, so it hasn't picked you up yet."
But that wasn't it.
Before he could go back to lying, the Captain's urgent voice came through.
"For fuck's sake. I have four on mine, and I can't see shit," he said, panic evident in his voice. "Be a darling and grab a rifle on that rooftop. You'll have to cover me until I get there."
"What?!" Konrad snapped, almost too loud. "Told you I can't aim. My hands are trembling."
"And I run here out in the open with a huge and heavy rifle," Dmitry pointed out. "I'm a sitting duck here, dude. You don't even need to hit 'em. Lay down some suppressing fire, please."
"With a silent gun?" he grumbled, but still rushed to pick one up.
He had already crawled back to the edge when the realization hit him.
"What do you mean, out in the open?!" Konrad demanded. "Didn't you come through the warehouse, too? It's a straight route from there to here, with plenty of cover—"
But when the Captain radioed back, even the static sounded angry and impatient.
"Didn't you hear when I said I'll take the long way around?!" he snapped. "I went right. If that warehouse caused so much trouble even for you, my Crystal could not have handled it."
Right. Fair.
But as soon as he said that, some real trouble popped up its ugly head.
While Konrad couldn't see his friend yet, he spotted something else.
Four somethings, actually, in grey-toned camouflages and full military gear.
"Fuck, they're flanking you," he yelped, scrambling to get the rifle to his eye. Good thing it had a scope. "They're like, two hundred paces from me. No way in hell I'm going to hit them."
"Relax," Dmitry yelled, his tone not exactly calm, either. "Shoot from a prone position, and—"
"I'm already prone," Konrad shouted, finally spotting the Captain. "They're right behind you."
"The .300 Blackout is a slow and heavy round," he jabbered. "Count with the bullet drop. Don't hold your breath, but let it out, nice and slow. Aim for their heads, and—hurry the fuck up."
Yeah, there was no time for a sniper tutorial when he was about to be overrun.
"You'd better get down, too," Konrad moaned.
And he put his crosshairs on the first mercenary's head.
That alone was a challenge since those bastards wouldn't stop to strike a pose for him.
He had to breathe out, rein in the shaking of his arm, and—
The first bullet hit his target low in the abdomen, but couldn't penetrate.
He should have aimed even higher, but—
The problem was the rest of his bullets, spraying all over the place.
"Even I can hear that you're on full auto, idiot," Dmitry gritted out, his voice almost lost in the static. "Find the fire selector on the side, and—"
"Didn't you say I should only suppress them?!" Konrad snapped back.
Because, if nothing else, the mercs scrambled into cover, giving the Captain some space.
Well, he did find the switch and fiddled with it before hearing his PDA beep.
"What?!" he scowled, forgetting about the gun for a moment. "I can see four on the map now. But they didn't come any closer, and you're not even marked yet."
Dmitry's response was anything but calm.
"Fuck. Mine shows eight now. They're going to flank me for real."
And Konrad couldn't see the newcomers.
Neither through the scope, nor with his naked eyes.
"Should I go down there to—"
A hail of bullets peppered the concrete before he finished.
The mercenaries he had suppressed seemed angry—and accurate.
And Konrad didn't even have his new, bulletproofing artifact on him at that moment.
"No, stay there and cover me," Dmitry yelled, unaware of the situation.
"Okay, fine, damn it," Konrad scrambled back as well. "But you gotta give me a sec."
He had to crawl to grab that freaking thing, having heated up even more since.
While the Bubble finally drained all the radiation from his body—
As soon as he held the Mama's Beads, he could feel the sickening warmth build up again.
Something wasn't right with that artifact, but he had no time to worry about that now.
"Konrad," the Captain shouted into the radio, followed by the familiar thunder of his gun.
Twice. Three times.
"Sorry, sorry, on it," he said, crawling towards the edge.
He knew full well how that lumbering, heavy gun was at a huge disadvantage down there.
But whether the enemy thought they dealt with Konrad or had already forgotten about him—
They presented the perfect target for him now.
Breathe out; steady those hands. Focus.
At least he was good at the last one.
He aimed almost a foot above the first guy's head and pulled the trigger.
His intuition was right. He hit him right in the face, and no bulletproof vest would stop that.
He still fired two more rounds before he realized, but a kill was a kill.
"Nice shot," Dmitry panted. "You're on three-round burst, but that works, too."
"Compliment me later," he grumbled, hyper-focused on the next target. "And get your ass here."
The mercenaries were onto him, but he wouldn't duck into cover when they returned fire this time. Instead, he waited until they provided the perfect target and took out another guy.
He got the third one into his crosshairs, too, the adrenaline flooding his system, but—
His rifle clicked empty.
"Fuck. I'm out," he grunted, not even trying to reload.
He didn't bring spare ammo with him, but he had three more rifles behind him after all.
By the time he grabbed the next, his PDA was beeping again.
"Oh, you're finally on my map," Konrad noted, getting back in position. "And—wait. Those guys didn't follow you yet, so why does the counter keep going up?!"
It should have been on five, including Dmitry, but now it showed nine.
No. Ten. Eleven.
"I'm almost there," the Captain breathed, his radio crackling. "A little more—"
But the two survivors he saw were already aiming for his back again.
"You should've focused on me," Konrad gritted out, aiming and firing, more confident now. It was a hit, but it only had his target stumble back before hiding behind his cover.
Damn it. These rifles and Dmitry's weren't the same.
Speaking of which, he heard the thunder again, closer this time.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," the panting followed, and some bullet impacts, too.
On the map, the Captain was already below him. He should have been safe, but—
"They're here. Inside the construction site," he gritted out. "Second floor staircase."
Shit. A little later, and they would have snuck up on Konrad from behind.
But that meant two other things as well.
Dmitry was in grave danger, and—
Konrad was in the perfect position to stab them in the back with his machete.