"Who are you?"
After eliminating the only surviving enemy, everyone turned to look at Herman. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest—he thought they were about to kill him.
"I... I'm with the guerrillas..." Herman stammered. He instinctively felt that these men weren't enemies of the guerrillas, but whether they were friends was still uncertain.
"Guerrillas? Why are you in a Serb-occupied zone?"
Owen continued questioning.
Herman looked into Owen's eyes, not daring to hide anything.
"We noticed unusual movements from the Serb forces over the last two days. They suddenly started deploying many small units, like they were searching for something. I came to gather intelligence..."
Herman explained in full why he was there. By now, he also understood what the Serbs had been up to—it was clearly related to the pilot and the hard drive mentioned earlier.
I'm dead, Herman thought. They're going to silence me.
"What's with the signal interference?"
Ghost asked from the side.
Herman glanced at Ghost, deeply afraid of the skull-masked man who seemed to pull the trigger without hesitation. As a guerrilla, he'd killed and seen people killed, but these men carried a presence that made his blood run cold.
"That—I know. Yesterday, they drove a few vehicles up the eastern mountainside. Those were technical trucks with antennas. That afternoon, all communications went down. I lost contact with the guerrilla unit too. I think those trucks are the cause."
Owen listened and figured the Serbs had likely brought in standard jamming vehicles. The reason the jamming was so effective was probably that the vehicles were linked into a matrix, amplifying the power several times over.
"You know exactly where those jamming vehicles are?"
"Yes."
Herman nodded vigorously. He felt like Lady Luck was smiling at him. These guys were clearly going after the Serbs. In that case, he wasn't really betraying anyone by guiding them.
After exchanging glances and a few murmured words with the rest of the team, Owen spoke again, "What's your name?"
"Herman. You can call me Herman..."
He answered. The skull-masked man still hadn't stepped behind him, and Herman began to think he might actually survive this.
"Well then, Herman. We just saved your life. As repayment, we need a guide. As you can see, we don't speak the local language, and you speak English. You could be a great help. What do you say...?"
Herman considered for a moment. "What exactly do I need to do?"
"Take us to the jamming vehicles. There may be other tasks later, but I promise it won't take long. When it's done, we'll compensate you."
"Alright, I'll do it."
Herman pretended to think it over, then agreed readily. Truthfully, he didn't dare say no. If he refused now, they might just shoot him on the spot. After all, what's the difference between eleven corpses and twelve?
The group set off following the route Herman provided. First they climbed a slope, then looped around a patch of forest. The snow-covered mountain terrain had become extremely muddy, making it difficult to walk.
"How much farther?"
Fred had been hiking along without much complaint about the physical strain. What really bothered him was that Owen had forbidden casual conversation—which left him feeling stifled. But he'd found a loophole: the rest of the team followed Owen's orders and avoided unnecessary chatter, but the guide didn't count. And Owen hadn't forbidden Fred from talking to him.
"Almost there. Once we get over this mountain, we should be close..."
Herman had started out light—Omega didn't allow him to carry weapons, and he didn't have much gear or ammo either. Unfortunately, Bayev had noticed how quickly he was moving and transferred some of his own gear to Herman. If Herman weren't a guerrilla used to running through the mountains with weapons and ammo, he probably wouldn't have managed.
…
On the mountainside, the wind and snow had stopped. The ground wasn't purely white but streaked with patches of black and gray. The team's camouflage blended perfectly with the terrain.
A few jamming vehicles were parked in a loose formation on a flat area below the slope. A handful of soldiers milled about the area in groups of two or three, chatting. Their alertness seemed extremely low.
A shadowy figure crawled slowly up the slope. Owen lay prone, pulled out his binoculars, and observed the position across the way. Then he pressed his shoulder-mounted PTT and spoke quietly. Moments later, more shadows followed, crawling into position.
Along the boundary line of the slope, Omega members watched the jamming vehicle position closely, assessing the enemy's numbers and firepower.
"No sentries. I count... one, two, three, four visible guards."
Swagg and Fred continued to log the locations and numbers of the enemies. Perhaps due to the Serbs' long-standing advantage—or just arrogance—they hadn't even posted any hidden sentries. Due to the mission parameters, Omega hadn't brought any large-caliber anti-materiel sniper rifles, so they had no choice but to physically get close in order to destroy the jamming vehicles.
After a period of observation, the count was mostly complete. Swagg and Fred stayed at the top of the slope—their weapons' effective range made it an ideal spot. Owen and the rest began to slowly descend.
They moved slowly—only a few meters per minute—but it was safe. They managed to reach the edge of the enemy's position without alerting anyone.
"Three, two, one."
Pfft pfft
A series of suppressed shots rang out. Four designated targets were simultaneously taken down. In the 4x26 optic of Swagg's SVD, a puff of blood burst from the target's chest before the body collapsed. At the same moment, Fred's VSS took down another. Meanwhile, Owen and the others surged forward with weapons ready, beginning their sweep.
The enemy position was large, and Omega's manpower was limited. This time even Bayev wasn't idle—he slung his RPK across his back and joined in with a suppressed pistol. Fred covered his direction as needed.
Pfft pfft, pfft pfft, pfft pfft
"Clear."
Three quick bursts. Owen silently executed three enemies inside a tent, then turned and swept another direction.
Beside one of the jamming vehicles, a soldier returning from taking a piss came around the back just in time to come face-to-face with Heartbeat, his face covered in camouflage paint. Before he could even scream, Heartbeat's hand twitched—the shot went straight through the man's neck, blood spraying as he collapsed.
Inside the adjacent vehicle, a bearded soldier, alarmed by the sound, peeked his head out—only to be smashed in the face with a rifle butt by Ghost, who then finished him off with a point-blank shot.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.