The wind whipped through the clearing where the Drunken Marauder's stone stood, and the three members and their guest had so far managed to wriggle out of any soldier who tried to stick a bit of lead in their heads. About four, maybe five hours, which they had to take turns to rest and eat a little food, although the rations they received did not usually have the same budget as the weapons, making the experience even more unpleasant. What was a whole morning of walking, in their minds was interpreted as a full week. So seeing the boulder, with the old entrance exposed but shattered, relieved them somewhat. At least they wouldn't have to walk any further until it was time to go back. But they couldn't be fooling around either.

It only took a second to be shot. Nothing could guarantee that there wasn't even an enemy underdog ready to drop on them. Elizabeth was the first to settle down. She found a rock and brushed the snow off it, then put a blanket over it and sat down. Her leather boots played nonchalantly in the snow as she glanced at her companions.

“Hey, fancy pants. Is your dick cold already?” Of course, she meant Chamán.

“My dick is out of the matter in this mission.”

“Beh. Boooooriiiing!” This last was punctuated with her hands making a megafone over her mouth.

“Shut your mouth, you fucking fascist whore.” Bakarne looked at the surroundings. “Wanna get us be spotted?”

“What about it? Is not like I do have any appreciation for any of you to begin with.”

“Yeah, and you think you are invisible to guns as well, bitch?” The bespectacled woman looked back at her.

She turned around to watch over the other elites as she played with her hair bangs. Her mouth curled in a pouting position, but still silent. Chamán looked at the mountain, trying to understand more than before, why they knew the mountain so well and why they were living in that one building instead of a proper secret base.

Hey, Pujay. Was this a good idea?

Why are you asking me, gringo? I am only a party demon, not your guardian angel.

George pressed the fabric of his clothes, making sure not even a single part of his skin was to be seen. He was meant to be a Mexican narco sent to check out, so, it was only fair that he tried to keep the role as must as he could. That meant not letting anyone guessing his real ethnicity, too, even if it meant making the worst spoken Spanish he could utter.

Emil wore the jacket Bakarne has lend him over his uniform, but it didn't seem to be enough. Looking around to make sure no one was there, he reached into his backpack to grab a ham sandwich he had made before leaving.

"I thought you guys didn't eat any pork." Eli commented, letting her accent consume the lascivious tone behind it. As she uttered those words maliciously, she smiled. The long straight black hair swayed in the little wind there was, contrasting with the snowy landscape.

"With this cold you need protein..." He was embarrassed, and looked the other way while he continued to bite into the sandwich. When he had swallowed half of it, he wiped his sleeve across his mouth to remove some of the oil. "Just because I’m part Arab doesn't mean I’m obligatory Muslim, tho..." For once, he got right to the point, already used to Eli's bullying of rookies. “If you want the real deal, go talk to the manager. She would kill me if she saw me doing this.”

So, she is as stern as always, including the haram... I guess some things don't truly change, don't they. George sighed.

“Hm, wow. The little dummkopf knows how to defend himself.” Elizabeth returned to pay attention to her surroundings, without the same level of concern for her companions.

Bakarne was standing guard with a small vintage Colt revolver. In a group where everyone seemed to favor the most modern weapons, she had a taste for the old-fashioned ones that her classmates rejected, although that did not prevent her from carrying other more contemporary materials, such as an UZI that she kept in her backpack for emergencies, and a variety of explosives. However, the latter would only serve to cause a slight hindrance, since the production that Lázár demanded of her was based on more firecrackers of lesser intensity, instead of fewer but more powerful. An ineffective strategy so far, both for the battles and for her, who was the only person in charge of creating said explosives for everyone.

"I hope the little guy has the decency not to keep us waiting too long." Emil belched unashamedly and finished wiping the oil from his snout with the woolen gloves he was wearing. “How the hell are we going to recognize this person? The old man said it would be easy, but he could come in a goddamn soldier's outfit to keep out of the way, and we might end up shooting him. They haven't told us anything about greetings or secret codes."

"Maybe he's a weirdo. Like all of us. Kar-kar-kar!” Bakarne chuckled, quite sure of her theory as she continued to patrol the perimeter with gun drawn.

"That would be the most normal, of course..." Emil began to mutter, throwing the paper from the sandwich on the floor.

"Hey you piece of shit, don't go leaving trash for us to be sniffed out, kabenzotz!"

"If you yell louder maybe they'll hear you first, idiot!"

"You two…" Eli began to make a gesture of a distressed princess, at the lack of manners of her companions, but she couldn't finish the sentence.

BANG.

It was a miracle that Emil's brains didn't spill out onto the floor. The bullet only grazed his forearm, but penetrated far enough to leave a trail of blood against the snow. Within seconds, Eli and Bakarne were on either side of the young man, weapons ready to fire. The small woman with the txapela followed the line of fallen blood to locate the soldier who was slowly approaching. Eli took a piece of cloth from one of his pockets and handed it to the wounded man, but keeping his weapon in his skillful hand to continue guarding the perimeter. George jumped and aimed his assault rifle against him.

The soldier moved cautiously closer, and Bakarne realized he was reaching for a walkie talkie. Aiming for the head, while reaching for another gun that had a silencer with her left hand, the girl kept biting her lip. Shit, why did I think of drawing this thing first… At least it would muffle most of the noise if I drew something else. If I shoot like this, it'll be easier for us to get caught... But if I don't shoot him now, he'll radio them... Fuck the shit…

Before the soldier's fingers could reach a single button, George had chosen the route more logical at that time: the fewer left in the hunt, the better. The shot was accurate enough that the soldier's body fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Let's get out of here. Fuck the new guy." Bakarne grabbed Emil from the side and Eli did the same, and they started charging him at once. Although it was not heavy and they could manage to walk away, the trail of blood was left to indicate the path of the prey. But they couldn't do anything else. Breaking into the old base was not an option. They also had nowhere to take refuge in the forest, not in that area. The only thing left was to try to hide at the top of the rock and look for a stone that would serve to protect themselves and prepare themselves better.”You fucker, thanks for the trouble!” She shouted at George.

“I'll take care of this!” The American choir-boy proclaimed.”No one will be hurt on my watch.”

“You have the balls to say that NOW!?”

When they reached the top, they were able to leave Emil in a small hiding of rocks and attend to him immediately.

“This jacket was new. And good." Bakarne growled as she tore it open to see the wound and began to bandage it. Eli kept the UZI in her hand, but she wasn't sure if it would work in the likely event of a fight against a large platoon. If the entire group was so easily defeated in the biggest fights, what were three members going to do on their own? “When we get back to base, I plan to smash your head in with bricks.”

“You can do it now if you want…Agh!” Emil felt his arm burn at the exaggerated amount of alcohol that the girl poured on the wound. "Fuck, if you want to kill me do it at once, don't make me dizzy like a sausage in a frying pan."

“Shut up, dammit. I am doing what I can.” Slitting open the sleeve she had ripped to shreds with a pocket knife, Bakarne fashioned a bandage so he could stop the bleeding, however crudely. In those conditions they were not in a position to engage in a more delicate procedure. "Eli, can you hear someone coming? Go help the rookie.”

“I hear more than sixteen feet moving towards where we are. They will surround us in no time.”

“Fuck, how the hell are we going to defend ourselves? Worse enough, how did we not see the only one who was in the area?” Bakarne bit her lip further with her canine teeth, glaring at Emil furiously. "There are no traces of our super-recruit, but now we also have those rats on top of us..."

"There is no other choice but to stop crying and defend ourselves in any way that comes up." Eli looked around, trying not to leave the stone hiding place they had found. The footsteps had stopped, so they were stalking. Waiting for the smallest error to jump at.”Cover us.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you, txoriburuak.” The girl in glasses readied her Colt and prayed to all the mythological beings in nature to help her escape the situation. With luck, perhaps a Basajaun would throw a boulder at them and drag them down the forest. Emil protested, but he knew his best bet was keep one gun in hand for any close guest not expecting him.

George started to boot up against the snowed hill and turned his back against a thick tree the moment he felt disturbance. There it was, the breedless.

A bunch of non-categorized military soldiers from apparent mixed governments controlling them. Some said it was only the German, others the French. A daring person would just comment they were the Illuminati. In any case, they were known to serve the current Reich, and it was their work to keep them at bay from the base. The reason, however, was still unknown to this day.

George kept his rifle ready for aim. So far, he was able to see eight members on the black and radioactive green winter uniforms. Wearing proper protection, unlike him – cheaped out for ski glasses. If he wasn't cautious, any bullet near his head could be fatal. But it was too late to blame for his lack of care.

“Eat this, you fucking bastards!”

George started to shoot and managed to block one of the first soldiers. One of them sweared something he didn't quite hear, but decided to block him with a fast suplex, breaking his leg and digging his head with lead. Even with his mask, he felt the splash of blood on the fabric. A knife carved his shoulder.

“You idiots want some of this, hey!?” The pain he felt of the very small part that managed to penetrate his anti bullet equipment woke him up. “You are the next one, motherfucker!” Before he could shoot, he got another graze of a blade in his arm, but yet that let him open way for a kick on his target's torso. Complemented with a punch on the stomach and a shoot in the neck. Before long, he could see the soldiers storming against them, splitting on teams by command of a skinny, young looking one.

“Oh, now you did it.”

Chamán punched the guy's hand to take his weapon off, and silently, grabbed the head of the man and smashed it against one of the trees. With a disgustingly, gross wet thud, the body of the soldier dropped to the snow.

“Just like in the old, good times.”

The sound of bullets filled the frozen air and the first round Eli fired managed to finish off two distracted soldiers. Would they have been confident about being against a small group? Bakarne, meanwhile, and from behind Eli managed to shoot three soldiers in the head. And for finishers, George scored the last three heads. They all lay on the ground, leaving a scene resembling that of a Pollock painting. Eight enemy casualties, but as soon as she stopped, the German princess put her hand to her ear. Holding her breath as best she could, the other girl waited for the verdict.

“They're coming… I think another ten. One…one is a general. I'm hearing him spouting boring jargon at them." Eli used the second of quiet to tie her hair in a ponytail, and took the UZI back to load a new round. “This bad boy isn't going to last much longer. This was the last cartridge that occurred to you to carry for contingencies, of course you are not good for much.”

"We'll have to take advantage of it... and get out on our feet if we hold out this time."

Both stood with their backs to each other, to maintain a better view of the entire area. Fortunately or unfortunately, there were only two paths. The stone was too high to climb, and the opposite way was a fall down the cliff ahead. They could only run to the left or the right.

“Rookie! Cover from the east!” Bakarne shouted.

“Don't talk me as your disciple, I am a senior!” Chamán growled.

“A senior of baked potato filled crap is what you are! Do as I say!”

Jeez. I fucking hate that woman. And I thought the Nazi chick was a jerk!

“They come from the right. If we kill them, we have to run in the opposite direction. Right?" Elizabeth asked.

"What are you asking me... I wasn't very good with geography in school..."

“You are not leaving me here, right?” Emil had managed to stood up. He was able to walk, but the run of the bullet must have hit a very important nerve, because he could not stop his knees from shaking. Or was that the cold?

“I wish I could.” Elizabeth looked at him. “But I think we are all may just rot here.”

They both felt that their bodies wouldn't withstand the race anyway. Defeat was the smell of a wounded animal that intoxicated their bodies, already exhausted by the terrible walk. There was no escape, only to take every possible living thing with them to the deep pit of hell. The little breath they were able to regain nearly fled from them when again, the sound of metal tearing through the air began to attack their hearing.

The second round of bullets from the Uzi was effective, and many lesser soldiers fell in a heavy dummy-like style to the ground. However, another was able to reach them, and Eli felt her knee give way with a bullet entering the flesh. The cry of pain deafened Bakarne, who fired at the soldiers trying to escort Eli. She crawled behind the rock, next to Emil, who tried to make some clumsy rescue while the young woman screamed, holding her wound obsessively. Some of the remaining minor soldiers fell to the small bullets of the Colt, while George cleared up the rest that was coming from far away, but the commander was still on his feet. The elderly but firm figure did not seem to have any intention of fighting, but he looked confident.

“Hey, geezer.” George sprinted. “Know what time it is?”

He jumped. His feet towards the old man. He looked something out of an action movie going on slow motion.

In one second, the old man retorted. His had grabbed for the ankle and brutally punished the leg against the floor, only to be followed by the scream of pain. The sound of the cracked bone was heard clearly. Before aiming for his head from the floor, George felt a kick that had his rifle thrown away. As the pain crept from the broken limb, he spat furiously, trying to get any knife from his specialized suit. But there was none.

“You, little boy.” The commander looked at Chamán, who retorted as hard as he could to get on his own feet. “Is time for babies like you to go back home to play.”

A hand wearing a pristine white glove reached for the pistol on his belt, smiling triumphantly. Bakarne swallowed hard, and aimed her gun towards the head of the old guy. They had not yet lost. The commander looked at her.

“And once I'm done sending this dirty yankee to Hell, I will ensure my own spot after I educate the two little girls here pretending to be action heroes.” He stood up, and got his gun ready while eyeing them, and his hand aimed at Chamán.

The smile turned into a grotesque grimace. A perverse manifestation of the most evil human expressions. The corners of the lips were so high that it was unsettling to look at. Wasn't that the smile of a rapist who knew he had a victim ready for his delight? That was the first impression, but the eyes were totally wildering. Something was wrong.

“Gh–” Blood began to ooze out of the commander's mouth. Bakarne jumped back, watching as the figure of the commander rose from the ground as he convulsed. Chamán widened his eyes. Elizabeth and Emil looked from afar, completely scared. A spike began to appear from the front as the body was skewered. He was not being possessed, but an effective thrust had ended his mortal life. Squinting, Bakarne could see boots underneath the body. The one who was holding that corpse possessed a strength that went against nature.

"What a disappointment."

A loud accent ripped through the scene, and finally, the corpse fell from the bayonet held by a tall figure that towered over any of the people standing there, dead or alive. For no reason, probably just for pleasure, the person standing took a small black pistol out of his jacket and fired several shots at the body of the freshly dead commander. Gray eyes checked at Chamán first, and looked at him for a mere second, as if he was no more than vermin, to then proceed to look at Bakarne, who felt her body freeze. Her Colt was still up, but her hands were shaking.

“Lázár said that he would send his most…reliable recruits, but I have only seen two Spanish smurfs, a German fancy lady with no idea how to fight and a fucking Rambo wannabe. Of course the old man had to beg me for help, blyat!” The figure became more visible, and a man who was visibly a few years older than them, with pale skin but rosy features and a strong jaw, showed himself. Not much could be distinguished from his hair, except for a beard probably shaved with a rusty razor, and some brownish blonde loose hairs under an ushanka with a very characteristic and recognizable star pin.

“I am not Spanish…but Euskalduna!” Bakarne, despite having her whole body warning that she should run away from that individual, had the audacity to contradict and show an independent pride inherited from her land. “And you are… a dirty Soviet dog, from what I see.”

The figure clad in heavy clothing against the cold smiled and walked over. None of the other members weren't able to do much, but they were ready to run if Bakarne ordered it, but the three of them seemed to sense that it wasn't feasible. The steps, despite the weight that the guy seemed to have, were light. Even this close, Eli's delicate hearing couldn't hear it. Had he been spying on them all this time, waiting for the right moment to show up? He was like a mountain demon.

“Don't ignore me, communist!” Chamán shouted, trying to reach his assault riffle, crawling towards it. The pain was getting worse. A sharp snap stopped his track.

“Sorry. I don't speak to the likes of you.”

He advanced towards the only member that was still unharmed.

"Stay away...stay away, dammit!" Bakarne aimed directly at the man's heart. Backlit, the eyes gleamed with an animal instinct none of them were used to seeing. Someone capable of killing in a dirty way, without waiting for the enemy to know of their existence. What kind of monster did Lázár call help for? "I'm going to shoot, I don't care if you're a colleague of Lázár or his fucking mother."

“A Colt Special Detective. Model of 1927. A short range, but comfortable to pack for not being excessively large. Six bullets, not one more, not one less.” The man was just inches apart from the gun. He wasn't even brandishing his own, nor the bayonet, which rested on his back. "You're not very good at math, are you?" Without any fear, the man simply pressed his body against the barrel.

“Fuck…Son of…” Bakarne did the math on the spot, only to hate herself.

"You and your little friends... I know you're very screwed... but it's your turn to guide me to the base." Eyes went first to the wounded, then back to Bakarne. The gaze of that beast left her nailed to the spot. "There's quite a way, so... let's get going."

The Slav's wicked grin never went away all the way back.

***

“Rurik Karabanov. Ex-lieutenant within the Red Army. And so many other ton of fucking condecorations.” Lázár announced - with a tone of pride that he had not dedicated to any recruit in more than a decade “From now on, all your complaints will be for him. If you have the balls to do it.”

“Not many introductions are needed here. The only thing your children need is a change of habits. From now on, things are going to be very different here.” All thirty of the living members took a look at the menacing figure. Few of them were the same height. Most were midgets by comparison. The new leader started pacing around the strategy room looking at everyone. “Let me guess. Surely most of you are spoiled children who wanted to rebel against their parents. Or orphans who do not know how to value the battle because they are willing to let themselves be exploited right off the bat.”

Everyone was silent as the figure continued to surround them, like a sheepdog with his flock. A hand went up. Emil, who was on a stretcher, fully bandaged and exaggerating his discomfort, asked the question that was on everyone's mind. “What is your, err…military approach going to be?”

“Tomorrow, at seven of the morning. Medical examination of each and every one of you. We are going to restructure this mess…if we can.” Karabanov put his gloved hand to his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “At 6 in the morning, I want all the members to be up and showered before the exam. I don't want exceptions." Some protested loudly, which was not lost on the Siberian lad. “Yes, both men and women. I'm going to personally see to your health and whether you stay in any useful positions or if I get rid of you. I don't care how long you've been here, or if anyone is embarrassed. Oh, and not coming to the exam will result into immediate expulsion. Now, take the opportunity to rest, because a couple of days of maintenance await us. Scatter yourselves.”

God damn. I was so fucking pathetic.

It was the very first thing that came to mind to George after he recovered from the anesthesia after the clumsy maneuver called surgery that the doctor practiced on his leg. He could thank he didn't lost it, but it was almost as useful as if they just had cut it off.

If I have to stay here any other second, I swear I will become crazy.

Knock knock.

“Who is-”

George felt his heart skipping more than one beat when he saw Banan entering the infirmary. He kept his body as straight as he could, but it was hard. All of it started to recover like an electric jolt of ecstasy.

    “I've heard you guys sucked.” She said, as she arranged her glasses straight and sat with formal elegance.

    “Yeah, we did.”

    They both fell silent.

    “You acted like an animal again, did you?”

    Chamán turned his head toward the other side.

    “I don't know what you me-”

    “You know very well what I mean!”

    The play fell to silence. No music or song was to entertain them as they both were unable to say anything.

    “I just... look, I still care about you.” Banan looked at him, her face still stern, but clearly shaken. “Please, whatever you have to do here... don't get yourself involved in our affairs. That is the only way to get away alive.”

    “Not gonna tell me to scram?”

    “I don't pretend to keep you from doing your work.” She sighed, and took her glasses off. “But certainly. You'd be better if you actually went away as soon as you are able. I can fix you a-”

    “It's fine. I will finish my mission.”

    She looked a bit distracted, probably calculating his chances at surviving with mathematical precision. And, without a word, she sat up, and walked towards the door of the infirmary.

    “Was it true?” Chamán asked, feeling his throat drying. “That you care about me.”

    “I was lying.”

    And, with not even looking back at him, Banan got out. Only for her to sigh heavily after the door was closed behind her. She took a minute to make sure she wasn't crying. Lucky, she was still keeping her composure. She stretched her arms and started to walk toward her office, where the computers where bathing the otherwise dark hall from the windows with the green text.

    Pujay.

    What do you want now?

    I think I need a hug.

    Not even in your best dreams.