Inside the safe house on the outskirts of Mong Pawk.
"Dominik, how is Laura?"
Hearing Simon's question, Dominik slowly sat up on the cot. He rubbed his face vigorously with both hands, trying to scrub away the sudden wave of anxiety. After a moment of hesitation, he stammered, "Uh... she seems to be in a hotel in Mandalay..."
"What?!" Simon immediately jumped up at the news.
"How can this be? Shouldn't your family be in Europe? You must go to Mandalay... Yes! You must go to Mandalay!"
At this moment, Simon paced back and forth in the cramped bamboo shack. Although he was trying his best to maintain his cool exterior, Dominik could still detect a hint of genuine panic in Simon's tone.
In Dominik's memory of the game, the only time Simon "Ghost" Riley had ever shown real panic was when Roach was killed by Shepherd. And now, Simon seemed to be in a similar state of extreme agitation.
Seeing Simon—a battle-hardened soldier—more anxious than he, her own brother, Dominik felt a flush of shame creep up his neck. His face burned.
Dominik got off the cot, reached out to stop the pacing Simon, and took a deep breath. "Simon, we must save Laura. But how do we escape this village? There are still zombies in the jungle outside, and we'll need a vehicle to get to Mandalay."
"Hmm..." Simon slowly calmed down, crossing his arms over his tactical vest. He spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, "Since Laura is in danger, the original plan is definitely out."
"Original plan?" Dominik asked.
Simon pinched his chin through his mask and said, "Originally, I planned to wait until dawn, when The Syndicate's sentries were lax, to steal their truck and escape south to Thailand. But now... that's too slow."
"Hmm." Dominik nodded, falling into thought. After a moment, he looked up. "Hey, Simon, how long have you been in this village?"
"Forty-three hours and twenty-three minutes. Ever since you were abducted by The Syndicate, I set up a safe house here. Why?" Simon was a bit puzzled.
"I see." Dominik let out a long sigh, then continued, "The village isn't very big; there should only be about two thousand residents. So The Syndicate's forces shouldn't be too large, right?"
"Not many. According to my recon, they have 37 fighters in total. I already took care of 5 of them at the main gate," Simon replied without hesitation.
"Hmm." Dominik pinched his chin, mimicking Simon's gesture. "Since time is of the essence, let's wipe out The Syndicate. Then we can seize their supplies and vehicles so we can break through the horde more easily."
He paused, looking at Simon with eyes full of hope. "You can handle 32 militia fighters at once... right?"
"No."
"Huh?"
Seeing Simon refuse without hesitation, Dominik couldn't help but let out a small gasp of disbelief.
Refused? Just like that?
At this moment, Simon handed a confiscated rifle to the somewhat dazed Dominik. It was heavy, made of stamped steel, with a distinctive curved magazine.
Simon said indifferently, "This is an StG 44. A relic from World War II. God knows how it ended up in a Myanmar drug den, but it still shoots. It uses 7.92×33mm Kurz rounds."
"This... an StG 44? Why are you giving me a museum piece?" Dominik took the heavy rifle, feeling the cold steel against his palms. It felt solid, but ancient.
As for Simon, he had no mind to answer Dominik's boring question. He checked his SCAR-L, slapped the bolt release, and slung the rifle over his shoulder.
He then took two long, curved StG magazines from the table, shoved them into Dominik's hands, and said, "I only found these. You have these two magazines plus the one in the gun. That's 90 rounds total. Make them count, because you won't find this ammo anywhere else."
Dominik fumbled with the items forced into his hands. After stuffing the heavy magazines into his jeans pockets, he asked again, puzzled, "So? Why are you telling me this?"
"You'll know soon."
"Hey..."
Although Simon's expression was hidden by the skull mask, Dominik could feel it—he was smiling.
And it was that kind of malicious, mischievous smile that promised trouble!
Ten minutes later. The main street of Mong Pawk.
Whoosh! Whoosh whoosh! The sound of bullets cutting through the humid night air.
Bang! Bang bang! Bullets slammed into the brickwork, sending up showers of debris and dust.
"Ghost! You son of a bitch! Damn it!"
Dominik, currently hiding behind the wall of a dilapidated brick shop-house, shouted loudly to the sky. He would occasionally blindly stick the StG 44 out the window and spray fire, emptying a magazine in seconds.
Click! The dry sound of the bolt locking back reached Dominik's ears.
"These crazy bastards! Why are they all acting like they're on yaba!!! Go find that scoundrel Ghost! He's the one who fired the first shot, damn it!"
After loading his last magazine with trembling hands, Dominik was so anxious he started cursing in Hungarian.
"A kurva életbe!"
This unusual sight would have baffled anyone who saw it. A blonde European tourist in the middle of a Myanmar jungle village, screaming profanities in Hungarian while blindly firing a WWII Nazi assault rifle at local drug runners.
However, the cursing only gave him a momentary release; The Syndicate's gunfire continued to hammer his position without any sign of weakening.
Fortunately, The Syndicate's men in this village didn't seem to have RPGs or heavy machine guns, otherwise, this twenty-centimeter-thick brick wall really wouldn't hold up.
As for why Dominik found himself in such a predicament? It was because after being simply armed by Simon, he was led to the street. While avoiding patrols, Dominik was placed by Simon in this "easy-to-defend but hard-to-attack" brick house.
After Simon dropped the line, "You attract their fire here," he disappeared into the shadows.
The most infuriating thing was that Simon even fired several shots into the sky before vanishing! The village was already under martial law, and no one was strolling the streets at night. Apart from the low growls of zombies outside the perimeter wall, the village was incredibly quiet.
The sudden gunshots, like exploding firecrackers, startled everyone. Residents who had gone to bed early hid in corners. Even the zombies outside the wall seemed extremely sensitive to sound, and their growls intensified.
And The Syndicate's men, upon hearing these gunshots, immediately located the source, gathered everyone, and rushed to the brick house where Dominik was.
Dominik, of course, couldn't just watch these people rush into the house. He reluctantly pulled the charging handle, chambered a round, and stood at the window, spraying fire into the crowd.
To his surprise, the StG 44's recoil was incredibly manageable. The heavy weight of the gun absorbed the kick of the intermediate cartridge perfectly. He didn't drop the gun, and he was even lucky enough to hit three attackers in the initial confusion.
But before Dominik could rejoice at his first successful shots, dozens of Syndicate gun muzzles began to spit fire in return.
Seeing the muzzle flashes light up the dark street, Dominik instinctively blurted out "Holy crap" and immediately ducked under the window, covering his head.
"Ghost! You bastard! If you don't come soon, I'm really going to be done for!"
After firing his last burst of bullets, Dominik covered his head with both hands, scrambling and rolling to huddle in the corner, shouting helplessly as splinters of wood and brick rained down on him.
Just then, the intense gunfire outside gradually lessened. Screams began to replace the gunshots. And after a short while, the shooting completely stopped.
Before Dominik could react to the silence, a familiar voice came from outside the window—a voice he wished he could strangle right now.
"Hey~ come out. It's all taken care of."