"So, uh, I'm not sure how to put this, but—do you happen to be that Captain Bandera?" one of the soldiers muttered, already out of breath. And Dmitry wasn't even rushing them.
Well, okay, his Flash Artifact might have.
But he did his best to slow down, so they wouldn't leave the parallel brain's range too soon.
Even if he couldn't go with Konrad and this Strelok guy—
He wanted to get updates on their progress for as long as possible.
"Yeah, I've been wondering about the same thing," another aircrew noted. "But, like, what would the Hero of Kyiv even do here? Or is this where they deployed the International Legion?"
"Hah, no, definitely not," Dmitry laughed. "The brass is reorganizing them right now."
Or at least, he hoped they were.
It had been over two weeks since that ballistic missile strike, after all. Had they finished the restructuring already, on paper, he would have become a deserter.
As if his life wasn't difficult enough.
But as for the other thing.
"I'm him, but let's stick to Dmitry," he said with a sigh, waiting for them to catch up. "No ranks, or anything. I'm not here in any military capacity, so let's keep it casual."
Especially since two of them outranked him, even if they trembled like leaves.
"Holy shit, so it's true," the third soldier mumbled, the only one younger than him. "That's like, still a huge honor, sir. If the commander were still alive—he was a huge fan of yours."
Ugh. And what did he say about casual?!
"I still can't believe he died like that," the current senior officer said, shuddering. "Screaming in the sewers and losing all his blood to—I don't even know what that was. Something invisible."
"Bloodsuckers?" Dmitry guessed.
But he kept his voice low.
So low, in fact, that the soldiers heard only the soft ping instead.
"What was that?" one of them asked, raising his gun, but the Captain shrugged it off.
"My PDA. Don't worry about it," he said, feeling it vibrate deep in his pocket. "It has a function that keeps track of the nearby Stalkers and stuff, and—"
"You're not going to check it?"
He would've, were his hands not already full.
"I'm sure it's only those two. They're out of range now," he claimed, looking back, trying to brush it off. That said, weren't they already much farther?
Oh, well. Stalkers weren't the issue anyway.
Mutants were.
And so far, things had been quiet since they left Pripyat.
"No way bandits would come this far yet," he muttered to himself.
But the aircrew wouldn't stop staring.
Well, sure, he was as close to a military celebrity as it got, but—
"Is it, like, a thing here to carry around your enemies' heads?!"
Uhh. Right. So that's what it was.
"N-not exactly," Dmitry forced a laugh. "But this mutant," he held up the Controller's head. "It's something new and scary, and I promised some samples to the scientists."
Because yes, he'd been carrying it in his hands this entire time.
If only he had something to wrap around—but he'd definitely not put that thing in his backpack. It would have spoiled all the leftover food, and—
"Okay, so it's not, like, an intimidation tactic?" the senior officer asked, covering his mouth. "You look like a tribal warrior on a warpath, carrying the head of the enemy general or something."
Was that a compliment or a mockery?
He tried not to think about it, but now shivered as well.
"Not my intention," Dmitry grunted, shaking his head. "But the sooner the scientists figure out how to beat it, the better. One of these wiped out the entire group we've been traveling with."
These soldiers were lucky Konrad was around.
If only they could have saved the Wolves, too—
"Is there anything in this cursed place that isn't terrifying?" the youngest soldier asked. "These two days were rough—I'd rather go back fighting the Russians."
Yeah. Dmitry wasn't so sure anymore who the real threat to his country was.
"Who were those soldiers in Pripyat, anyway?" the officer asked.
"Hah. Bet they're fucking Spetznaz," the third one spat on the ground. "Did you see their gear?!"
Speaking of which—
He promised to take them to the Bar on the shortest route possible.
But he already planned a little detour to the Duga to pick up that Bloodsucker sample. And now that they mentioned it, he left his Gepard at that farmhouse, too, so—
Why was he staring straight down its barrel?!
"Well, would you look at that?" a familiar voice came from the other end of the gun.
And before he paired a name to it—
A tiny ball of frustrated energy punched him in the guts.
Dmitry hit the ground, dropping the Controller's head, and the soldiers froze.
"Holy fuck," he grunted, struggling for breath, and against— "Yuri?! What the hell, man?"
He straddled Dmitry with a shotgun in hand, aiming straight at his face.
"Shut the fuck up, you monster," he seethed with anger. "You'll pay for massacring my men."
He what?!
Good thing that a hand appeared on his shoulder, belonging to Corporal Sokolov.
"Calm down, Yuri," he demanded, but—hold on.
It was one thing that he didn't expect to see Yuri again, but—
"Take a look around, man. These must be the guys our spy was looking for," the Corporal claimed. With his Gepard in hand. But how?
Did he find it? No, scratch that. Where did he get ammo for it?
No, no, no. Wrong question again.
"What spy?" the Captain groaned. "What're you guys talking about? Get off me, damn it."
But that shotgun barrel pressed even tighter against his forehead.
"I'll get off once I have blown your head away," the tiny leader of the Wolves gritted out.
Oh shit. Of course.
The parallel brain somehow erased his memories, right?
He must have found his dead men, and—
"I said calm down, damn it," the Corporal repeated, pulling him back. "Told you before. Don't believe everything that the Major tells you. Look at this trembling trio."
Major?
"And how do you explain that?" Yuri demanded, the barrel leaving Dmity's forehead.
But only to point at the severed head resting on the ground.
"It's a mutant," the Captain yelped. "Konrad killed it, and I kept it to bring back as a sample."
"A new one?" Sokolov scowled, inspecting the head. "Yeah, I found your tentacles, too."
And as it seemed, his antimaterial rifle as well.
But Yuri was still anything but calm.
"Why did you murder my men?! You executed Walther with his own gun," he shouted into his face. "With this one. I swore, I swore that I would—"
"I didn't," Dmitry interrupted, holding his hands up. "It was a Controller, like that one."
And that execution, um—
He'd rather not upset him with the truth.
"What? So did it turn them into zombies?" the Corporal asked, turning the severed head. "I saw another beheaded corpse right next to them, so that would make a lot of sense."
"Yes," the Captain nodded with everything he got. "They're like a mobile Brain Scorcher."
But would that convince Yuri?
Well, the shotgun didn't fire yet. But they had a few things to clear up.