Nikto placed one hand flat against the tree, each breath feeling like fire burning in his lungs. He stopped for a moment pulling his free hand from his side, looking down at the crimson liquid that covered his glove. A grimace formed under the mask covering his face.

Where's exfil?

We're almost there.

Don't stop. Keep moving. The voices chanted on repeat. With a heavy sigh, he pressed his hand against the wound to slow the blood flow despite the pain it caused. They just had to make it to extraction.

We should've brought more bandages...

Shut up. Focus on breathing.

He pushed on, each step feeling like he had lead wrapped around his ankles. He had to be getting close... yet the eerie silence that surrounded him gave little indication where he was.

Don't stop! They yelled in unison yet each step was becoming more of a task, more of a burden. Do we have anything else? A voice asked and he shrugged, sinking down next to a tree. We're going to get left behind! Get up!

"Нам уже оставили позади," he stated flatly, bracing himself against the tree. He pulled his pistol from the holster strapped to his thigh, holding it firmly in his free hand. The enemy would be looking for him. They'd catch up, eventually. He was ready.

What he wasn't ready for was you. You emerged from the lush undergrowth as his weapon snapped to you, trained on you the second you appeared. You stared back like a deer in headlights.

What's this?

A civilian, maybe. The enemy came from the south.

That means nothing! We're in enemy territory, everyone could be a threat.

The chaos in his head was torn between waiting or just putting a bullet in your skull. It would save them the trouble of finding out if you were friend or foe.