Tell your superior that we need to send out a patrol to capture or kill the masked freak! I highly recommend we capture it alive so we can interrogate it for information. For all we know, it could be linked to the attacks or it may have information on its comrades, especially this Stroyyny Muzchina. Once caught, I recommend that you hand it over to us as the KGB has better means of persuasion."
The guard saluted before he went to relay Max's orders to his supervisor. Inside the greenish garage, bright lights shined down on Max, his partner Danilenko, and several KGB troopers who stood before various military vehicles with different kinds of livery meant for different missions. Maxim turned to his partner, smiling.
"Let's take one of the Jeeps. You might enjoy what's coming next. You will actually be seeing action for the first time in your tenure as my apprentice."
"Wait....I thought we were equal field agents?" Agent Danilenko narrowed his blue eyes as he frowned.
---
"Keep your eyes peeled, especially at this hour. You know all the activity of the paranormal happens when the sun is about to sink into the horizon."
In the front passenger seat of the dark green KGB jeep, Maxim Fyodorov cradled his assault rifle as he warned the driver, Danilenko, and their two escorts that were dressed in the desert tan of the local KGB detachment. Ahead of them was a Red Army van as well as several other vehicles belonging to the local Soviet military garrison and even the Spetsnaz.The setting sun gave the dirty and polluted atmosphere a golden glow that seemed otherworldly to the KGB field agent. In the sky, black helicopters flew overhead in order to assist with the recon. Although he felt a lot assured and safer with all these forces partaking in the search mission, Fyodorov felt that it was a bit overkill and it would be detrimental to seeking out the robed figure rather than beneficial. They might as well announce their presence with a parade and blaring drums.
"Sir, multiple vehicles incoming."
Max peered out the window of the dirty jeep and noticed several green camouflaged military vehicles approaching them on the dirt road. As the convoy passed them, he was able to get a glimpse of the occupants and recognized their allegiance by the color of their uniforms.
"Dammit! The GRU wants in on the search as well! They must have learned of our intentions. It was either a leak or they have an inside agent among us."
Maxim glanced at his fellow occupants as he turned his green eyes toward his partner. Petro Danilenko looked nervous.
"Are you saying that one of us is the mole?" he mumbled.
"Not necessarily, but I am keeping all options on the table and am not above ruling out anything. We can't afford to become lax, especially in times like these where masked or ghostly entities could strike out any moment."
"Excuse me, ser, but we are going to enter a hostile village in several miles. Are you willing to expose us to possible insurgents for this mission?"
Max stared at the driver. "Of course. This is of utmost importance. Besides, I'd rather take my chances with angry villagers or dangerous mutineers as opposed to a Russian rip off of Der Grossman."
"Very well. Vpered!"
---
The cloaked figure watched from the growing shadows as the convoy pulled into the town. The darkness had kept him out of sight of the watchful eyes of the men in the vehicles as well as the helicopters above. He fought the urge to strike out at the droning insectoid shapes as it would result in giving out his position to the Soviets. He had no need to. After all, the Soviet military had no idea that they were headed right into the jaws of a death trap.
Good, let them go. Their vanity will be their undoing. Pin will finish off the scrap.
From the glow of the setting sun, the helmet of his fellow acolyte of the Pale Operator was visible as the sun's dying light glinted off of it.
---
"Keep your eyes peeled. We could be walking into a potential ambush!"
The driver turned his head to give the field agent a look. The waning sunlight shined off of the lens of his sunglasses. "I am aware of that. Why do you think I asked if we should find an alternative to snaking through a hostile village?"
"Because the fact that the enemy will anticipate us to attempt that feat is precisely why I am ordering you to drive through the village," Max Fyodorov shot back. "It is known as reverse psychology. Ever thought of that? No? Well, you can thank me as soon as we finish up."
The drive was spent in sullen silence. The driver took a whiff of his cigarette as he lowered his window. Danilenko stared over at the window past the guard to his left. Other than a handful of villagers giving them dirty looks, most went off with their evening as kids played in the rocky streets. Despite nothing remarkable meeting the eye, the young agent couldn't help, but quail at the fact that there was an ominous tension building up. It was like something horrible was going to happen any moment. The question wasn't if it would happen, it was when.
"See? What did I tell you?" Max smirked. "We are almost halfway through this sprawling village and so far no one has thrown a single pebble at us."
As soon as those words left his mouth, their vehicle was hit by projectiles that ranged from pebbles to rotten fruit.
"You were saying?" The driver glowered at Danilenko's mentor.
"This is a record. We usually get mobbed as soon as we enter a town. I wonder what took so long. Anyhow, can we speed up so we can exit this village?"
"I would if my predecessor could drive faster." The driver looked cautiously for a shortcut through any of the alleys between the earth-made structures when the unmistakable whooshing sound of an RPG was heard. A few seconds later, the vehicle before them was turned into a blazing heap. Before the occupants of the car could react, men with bandanas covering their faces popped out of their hiding places and peppered the convoy with gunfire. Glass shattered over the astounded Soviets as the driver gunned the engine and roared through the alleyways to evade the gunmen.
"So the insurgents resort to their cowardly tactics?" Max grumbled. "I expected as much. I think we should call in air support to spare a Mi-24 to cow these terrorists!"
Ahead of them where the road split in two, Petro Danilenko spotted a shawled head pop out of a ditch. The figure mounted an olive green rocket and prepared to fire on the fleeing KGB agents when Max drew his side arm and put a round in the assailant's head before he could let the shot off. As the driver sped west, Danilenko caught a glimpse of a few men sporting rifles on the rooftops of the buildings they evaded. It was none too soon.
"Should we go back to assist our comrades or should we escape and call for back up?" A shaken Petro asked. "The mission has been compromised."
That was when they spotted a lone figure on the barren road standing in their path. Under the gathering metallic gray clouds covering the golden sunset, the cloaked figure, garbed in shadowy gray, glanced up at them. As the wind picked up outside, howling its fury, the masked figure, its head representing a cushiony grenade, drew a staff, gleaming with a bright electrical current. It was as if a bright light was captured by the staff. Without warning, it lunged toward the oncoming vehicle in a blink of an eye.
32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBEIGckFC6L
32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7HDmytO8Uk
