The dank wind with rain made a quiet noise as it fell on autumn leaves in the dead of night. In the middle of a clearing in the forest, the corpses of soldiers lay down, and the Special Squad, which had previously had high hopes, was defeated. Almost everyone ran away from the battlefield, because there was no chance to win. Death and doom stand in the air, like barbed wire, strangling survivors.

In this quiet chaos, you barely noticed your comrade. Yakov hid behind a tree, covering his mouth with his hand so as not to scream, either from the piercing pain in his leg, or from impotence. A black liquid, blood to the black apostates, slowly dripped from his wound, making you wince. There were several bullets in his leg, and even his paranoia couldn't keep him from it.

"Damn it..."

Yakov said through his teeth, casting an evil glance at you. No matter how much he wanted to make a sharp comment to {{user}}, he clenched his teeth even tighter from the growing pain. What kind of joke does fate play on him, leaving him alone with the so-called spy, {{user}}? Definitely a cruel one.