Ruthra walked over to where she was hiding, leaned against the wall of the house, and tried to look inside. The house was two stories high, with a balcony at the bottom and a balcony at the top. No trim, it was moulages. He peered behind the lower balcony. No one. Then stepped forward and decided to go behind the perimeter. At that minute, the "creature" popped through the first floor window opening. Her whole face was covered in blood. She pointed her AK-9 assault rifle at him and fired. Rutra, seeing her, fell down on purpose, as it would have taken a long time to run away or bounce aside in his position – a split second could cost a life.

He lay, rolled over on his back, and waited, keeping the exit from the house and the upper windows with the balcony in his sights. The attacker appeared to be in shock and wounded, confused; she was firing her assault rifle in different directions. Lying on his back, Ruthra turned his attention to the ceiling of the main room. It showed the hoods where the night vision cameras had been placed. "So they're watching the battle. Someone's watching and waiting for the outcome. Wait for me to get to you," Ruthra said to himself, and then he realized he couldn't really do anything. "The main thing is to survive," he decided.

The bastard stopped firing, probably out of magazines. Ruthra crawled, sideways, and began to move around the corner of the house. It was safe there; there were no windows or doors. He stood, waiting. His pants and sleeve were wet with blood, something was pouring down his face. Ruthra felt his left cheek, it was congealed blood with a chunk of flesh and skin. He'd been hit, and in the heat of the moment he hadn't noticed. A shrapnel or tangential shot had torn his cheek, oozing blood. Ruthra was worried that he might die from blood loss, so he decided to go for the assault. He had to cover the mask of his helmet, even though it lost his view, but the wound on his face was enough of an argument.

He walked along the outer wall of the hall to the balconies, no one was there, went further, looked through the window opening into the room, also no one. Sneaking up to the door, he shot inside, turned on the thermal imager, probed the situation inside with his usual technique, saw a red spot on the screen with his side vision. While he was looking at the image on the thermal imager, a line of bullets started coming in his direction. The bullets hit the rifle, knocking it out of his hands. Ruthra, too, dropped down to hide, and grabbed the pistol in pain.

He could feel Death approaching, and it was already drawing its scythe over him. He wanted to live. To live, if not for himself, then for his children. It gave him strength and dulled the pain. He fired a couple shots back and grabbed the rifle's belt, pulling it toward him. The electronics were messed up. Clutching the rifle tightly in his left hand, he angled it and fired a burst where the thermal imager showed a spot. Ruthra realized from the noise that the bullets had hit not only concrete and brick, but something soft.

It became quiet. Ruthra waited for groans, but there were none. "I must have killed him," he thought. After waiting a few minutes, Ruthra stood up. At that moment, shots rang out in his direction. The bullets whizzed by with a noise. They were fired from a TKB-059, its sound could not be mistaken – it was not mass-produced and was only given to top-ranking special agents on special operations. "Where is he from, why are the bandits armed so well? The doppelganger is a bastard," Ruthra thought.

Holding his weapon at the ready, he waited for the attack. His head ached terribly, and he couldn't see very well, whether he'd been hit or hit in the helmet. Ruthra felt himself weakening. He had to go for the assault. He spotted a piece of concrete nearby, picked it up with his right hand and threw it, with maximum force, on the floor of the entrance, imitating the noise of an attack. Shots rang out in response. The woman fired indiscriminately. Finally she ran out of ammunition, but Rutra was running low on ammunition, too. He crawled to the entrance and prepared to make his move again. Lying down, he reached forward with his rifle and fired in the direction from which she had fired. This time she yelled and groaned. "So much for you!" – Ruthra thought.

She kept moaning, then she said something in a language she didn't understand; it sounded like a swear word, and she hissed like a snake. Ruthra waited. Suddenly the shots rang out again. Bullets flew into the walls and ceiling, splinters and pieces of concrete raining down on him. He pressed himself against the far wall. Theoretically-she could shoot through the wall; it was hard to gauge its strength. When the shots ended, Ruthra readied his gun. This was the last chance. "Or is it possible to escape?" – He asked himself and looked out toward the center entrance from where he had entered this firing range. It was closed.

There were no options – only an assault. The blood from his cheek poured down his helmet, his neck, his chest. Everything was sticky and sore. Suddenly he heard someone calling him. It was a muffled and pitiful female voice:

– Ruthra, listen to me. Can you hear me? Can you hear me?

Ruthra didn't know how to react. She was calling him, from the room.

– Who are you? How do you know my name? – He asked excitedly.

– I'm going to tell you something. It may seem unbelievable to you, but it's true. You won, I don't care, I have no other choice, this is the last chance. Last chance for both of us," she said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

– Two? – Ruthra asked indignantly. – What are you raving about? Say goodbye to your life, you bitch! How do you know my name? Answer me! And then I'll kill you gently.

– Listen to me, please, listen to me! You've already won, listen to me, please," she moaned.

– Speak your nonsense, but hurry up, you'll live a little longer," Ruthra said sharply. – How do you know my name?

– We'll be interrupted soon, so I'll tell you quickly. If you believe me, we'll both have a chance, and if you don't believe me, you'll meet my fate," she hissed in an accent unknown to Ruthra.

He didn't question her further, but waited silently, keeping the exit in his sights.

– You were just an ordinary spy, observing objects, extracting information, then suddenly you're recruited into the top-secret Zero division. Didn't that surprise you? – she asked.

Ruthra decided to remain silent. He knew something unusual was going on, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

– They only take single, unmarried, orphans to Site Zero, and you already had a family. That didn't surprise you? Surprised? – she repeated, then stopped talking.

– It didn't surprise me," Ruthra replied, waiting for a follow-up.

– Why? Why? – she asked.

– What business is it of yours? – he answered angrily. – What's the big deal? Speak quickly! Or say goodbye to your life!

– Don't rush, you'll get there in time," she said calmly. – When I got here, they sent me to the firing range, too, and I have a child up there.

– What, you want me to feel sorry for you? You won't. When you killed, did you feel sorry for anyone? – Ruthra shouted angrily.

– I didn't kill anyone. This footage was edited on purpose," she said pleadingly.

– So I believed you, wait for manna from heaven," Ruthra said.

– You don't believe me, but you'll soon be in the same position as me," she replied pitifully.

– On what grounds should I believe you? – Ruthra asked with obvious curiosity.

– It's not the first time I've been involved in such a massacre. Accordingly, I took care of what to bring with me as evidence.

– And what kind of proof is that?

– I'm gonna throw you a card. Look what it says on it.