Long-term salvation

"Where's my gun?"

"I've loaded a new magazine for you, but you'd better find a place to rest. Anesthesia doesn't just bring comfort, it also brings numbness to death."

Hearing the medic's words, Platoon Leader Petrenko squeezed out a few responses through his teeth and then stood up with the medic's help. He looked around and saw the soldiers of the 24th Mechanized Infantry Regiment bending over, advancing into the city in a loose formation with a small number of tanks and BTR-70 armored vehicles.

Not far away, eleven soldiers from the same platoon as Petrenko were scattered and hiding in the enemy's firefight. Now they were waving to their platoon leader, which made Petrenko feel more relieved - most of the platoon was still here, and the enemy's firepower was not strong enough to cause them to suffer greater losses.

Then, the company's communications soldier and a non-commissioned officer ran over cautiously, bullets splashing snow and dirty water around their feet.

Running behind the wreckage of Petrenko's vehicle, the company's communications officer quickly spoke:

"The battalion headquarters has sent down new orders, requiring our company to slow down its attack. They also said there's something... uh... strange, and they said it needs to be handed over to Mr. Rhodes, the magician, to handle. Ahem, anyway, the company commander asked me to tell you something."

"I understand," Platoon Leader Petrenko exhaled slowly. He checked the AK74 rifle in his hand and pulled the bolt. "We will continue to advance and slow down... Where is the platoon's armored vehicle?"

The sergeant who followed didn't say much, just pointed at the intersection - the BTR-70 armored vehicle belonging to their platoon had become a wreck, but it also turned into a shelter for the soldiers. Now the two sides were shooting at each other across this thing and the street.

Bullets rained down like heavy rain, but without the cover of heavy vehicles such as tanks, it was difficult for armored vehicles and soldiers to break through the blockade of machine guns and RPGs in the urban area.

Seeing this scene, Platoon Leader Petrenko gritted his teeth and asked again:

"Where are our tanks?"

"We were called in to blast through the enemy barricades. Several trucks were blocking them. Those bastards were beaten to a pulp and had to hide like chickens," the signalman said, but his face was a little colder as he handed Platoon Leader Petrenko a microphone.

"Give me the coordinates, Comrade Platoon Leader."

The muscles on Platoon Leader Petrenko's face twitched slightly, as if he was trying hard to force a smile. Then he carefully poked his head out from behind the cover, observed carefully, retracted his body, and began to report the enemy's coordinates - the soldier spoke into the radio, his voice torn into pieces by the strong wind carrying ice particles - but the numbers were still transmitted through the radio waves, summoning a rain of hot metal.

At this moment, the mortar positions outside the city have been able to receive accurate reports from the frontline soldiers. After confirming and correcting the coordinate deviation, the shells will be fired out with a clear metallic buzzing sound.

The next second, the snow waves kicked up by the explosion would surge up and down among the ruins of the city's buildings. The leaden shock wave shattered the last intact areas of glass on the apartment buildings, and also shattered the soldiers who were still resisting:

Even though they had sufficient weapons and ammunition, and far more anti-tank rocket launchers than ordinary troops, under the organized coordinated attack of infantry and tanks, they were just a group of porcupines covered with thorns, dangerous but not lethal enough.

Facing the flying snow and gunfire, the soldiers continued to advance.

With the support of absolute numerical superiority and tank firepower, the soldiers attacking in the name of the Soviets continued to clear out and suppress the enemies entrenched in Pripyat, slowly pushing the enemies deeper into the city.

No one cares about the nuclear radiation areas in the city anymore. Even if there are any, they will only kill people after a dozen or even dozens of years. The bullets and shells flying everywhere now will not have such long-term patience.

The forest outside the city of Pripyat.

The headquarters of the 24th Mechanized Infantry Regiment was set up here. If you walk a few more steps out of the shelter, you can see the vague outline of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant in the heavy snow - the creation stands quietly on the earth, with a terrifying grandeur, staring indifferently at the stupid humans fighting in the abandoned city.

"The first battalion, the main attacking force, has successfully captured the central square. We are now using two tanks as the core to clear out the surrounding enemies. Tell them to use their artillery shells sparingly. We are not a tank regiment!"

"The Second Battalion's establishment is incomplete, and the regiment headquarters doesn't have enough troops to replenish you. You should merge on the spot—damn it, the extra officers can be used as artillery observers and riflemen, or as political commissars. There's always something for them to do!"

"...What? The reconnaissance company trying to take control of the Chernobyl nuclear power plant hasn't responded yet? You have no idea if there are any enemies inside the nuclear power plant? They have plenty of infantry fighting vehicles and armored vehicles! Send more people immediately - calling the first battalion, you must send two platoons as reserves, ready to support the reconnaissance company at any time!"

Watching the staff officers in the regimental headquarters issuing and responding to orders one by one, Lieutenant Colonel Yaroslav Sichev withdrew his gaze and focused on the map of Pripyat in front of him. After pondering for a few seconds, he looked up at Agent Perseus beside him and asked:

"Where are Mr. Rhodes and Miss D? Have they gone to look for the whereabouts of the nuclear warhead?"

Agent Perseus shrugged and replied:

“The world wonders.”

Chapter 315: A Slight Mistake (14/20)

"We are now where they were."

Rhodes half-knelt down and reached out to pick up some dust on the ground. The energy of the other world once surged here, but now there was nothing left. Only a slight evil thought attached to the walls and floor, lingering in the abandoned furniture.

"Also, the remaining pages of the Necronomicon once briefly stayed here, almost like a deliberate provocation."

"The enemy is indeed able to harness the chaotic energy of the otherworldly world with the help of that ancient book. The only question now is to what extent they can do so."

D said softly, standing at the door with her weapon in hand, looking vigilantly at the end of the corridor.

Several dead soldiers lay along the path, their blood frozen into ice by the cold. Nikki used a tactical axe to kill all the enemies in the corridor within a minute, and when Rhodes walked up the stairs, all he saw was her gently wiping away the blood that had splashed onto her face.

"Commander, do you need me to go to the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant?"

"Not for now. We must prioritize finding the nuclear warhead."

Rhode frowned and clapped his hands to wipe the dirt off them. He stood up, put away the AK74 rifle's belt, and walked out, saying to Nikki as he walked:

"I've ordered Helen to take the Alicorn into the Atlantic Ocean. If the nuclear power plant experiences an irreversible leak, a vacuum implosion bomb can be used to deal with it. However, if the bomb were to be detonated immediately here... the nuclear power plant wouldn't be able to escape, and the impact of the nuclear explosion would also spread the contaminated dust inside the nuclear power plant's sarcophagus across Eastern Europe, and even Western Europe."

If this really happened, Rhodes thought about the possible casualties and the extreme emotional energy that would erupt, and suddenly felt that an Eye of Terror would definitely be opened in Europe.

"Let's go, time waits for no one."

Having said this, Rhodes stepped over the corpses in the corridor and slowly walked down the stairs with his rifle in hand - this was considered the enemy-controlled area, and looking out from the small window at the corner of the stairs, he could occasionally see a few soldiers from the extremist organization running across the street, heading towards the block where the fighting was more intense.

Pripyat wasn't large, covering less than ten square kilometers, and had only about 49,000 inhabitants before the disaster. With some time and manpower, the nuclear warheads could be found.

However, there were nearly two hundred buildings of varying uses, and the defenders were well-equipped with ammunition and a large number of anti-tank weapons, especially the latter. This created considerable trouble for the 24th Mechanized Infantry Regiment, which relied on a small number of heavy armored vehicles and lacked heavy artillery for offensive operations.

Street fighting is always a difficult, bloody and cruel battle.

But even so, the defenders' defeat is only a matter of time.

Before this pack of wild dogs drags the entire East European Plain into hell, Rod and D must find the whereabouts of the nuclear warhead. For this reason, he decided to ask someone directly -

As the snow flakes condensed into diamond-shaped blades and shuttled back and forth between the broken window frames of the apartment building, Rhodes fell directly from the gap in the middle of the staircase corridor, crushing the passing soldiers. When he heard the painful groans from below, he did not torture them directly. Instead, he raised his gun and fired at the soldiers rushing in from the door!

The bullet penetrated the thick cotton coat, crushing the warm skin underneath and piercing the lungs, allowing the cold wind to pour in unimpeded and freeze the soft organs.

Blood splattered on the face of the soldier pinned to the ground. He was about to scream when he saw a sharp dagger being fiercely thrust into the ground before him—the concrete floor! The blade was only halfway in!

Slowly pulling out the dagger with the tip slightly curled up, Rhodes kept it close to the soldier's face, waited for three seconds, and then pulled it outwards fiercely!

The soldier whose face was torn off screamed, but was soon pinned to the ground again.

"Everyone else is too busy to care about the life or death of a small pawn."

Rhodes said as Nikki slowly closed the door of the apartment building in front of him. A shadow immediately covered the face of the soldier he was holding, causing the latter to close his eyes in despair.

"But I'm different. I want to know a little bit of information... Where are the nuclear warheads you traded in the city now?"

"Wh-What nuclear warhead?"

"I'm not lying, but you didn't know... Interesting. Well, let me ask you, where is your boss Zakhaev? And where is the leader of the Ibris organization you're trading with?"

"...I...Ah!!! I only know that group of Middle Easterners fled in the direction of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, and Zakhaev... Zakhaev only gave us orders over the communication channel!"

Towards the nuclear power plant?

Rhodes let out a frustrated hum from his nose. He stood up and shot the soldier in the head. Then he carefully approached the door of the apartment building and observed the situation outside through the crack.

The heavy snow is turning into a blizzard, blurring human vision and making it easier for those evil spirits to move forward.

Suddenly, Rodden felt his hair stand on end, and an unreserved murderous intent came from the falling snow in front of him - he suddenly pushed away Nikki who was standing opposite him, and when the latter's back touched the wall, a PRG rocket penetrated the thin iron door of the apartment building and exploded on the wall leading to the basement!

The dust wave raised by the explosion swept across Rhodes' face at this moment, but he did not subconsciously curl up his body. Instead, he took advantage of the cover of the dirty fog, raised his rifle and fired at several people who were slowly approaching outside!

Those figures did not fall... They were wearing heavy bulletproof vests, Maska-1Sch bulletproof helmets, and carrying PKM machine guns as they slowly advanced, suppressing Rod and D in the apartment building with extremely fierce firepower.

Rhodes and D leaned against the corner walls of the corridor on the left and right sides of the door respectively. Bullets like a rainstorm passed by them with sharp whistles.

"D, how many people did you see?" Rhodes asked. He took out two flash grenades and waved them at Nikki, a smile on his face. "And the gap between their helmets."

"Three, the gaps are very clear."

Nikki replied, her tone calm and confident as she lowered her eyes to check the gun in her hand and pulled out the magazine to confirm the amount of ammunition.

"Good girl," Rod smiled back.

It all happened as Nikki replaced the magazine and the weapon was cocked with a crisp sound.

Rhodes' body smashed through the dust and mist, leaped from the square door frame, and shuttled through the hail of bullets like lightning - two flash grenades were thrown out, and sharp explosions and dazzling flashes burst out in the flying snow - Nikki's body fell forward and rolled, firing five rounds from the weapon in her hand, and each bullet shot into the horizontal gap of the helmet!

These soldiers wearing heavy armor were unable to open their eyes again.

After exchanging positions, Rhodes and D quickly ran left and right along the corridor on the first floor, continuously firing back at the soldiers who were surrounding them outside with their weapons.

The enemy was besieging the building in an unusual manner, even withdrawing men from some blocks where fierce fighting was taking place.

Someone gave them guidance and a suggestion... a suggestion that would allow them to escape from here.

"It looks like we triggered something when we entered that room," Rhodes said to Nikki over the comms channel. He replaced the magazine in his rifle and added a touch of emotion to his words. "This time, the enemy is not easy. We need to be more careful next time."

"The Ibris organization began providing assistance to Dr. Richard during the Soviet-Afghan War and tricked him into opening a rift to the otherworld at the Salem Town Hospital (Chapter 29)... Their goal is probably more than just obtaining a few nuclear bombs, Commander."

Nikki replied calmly, but a hint of irritation flickered in her wine-red eyes. She quickly glanced out the window and asked amid the whistling of bullets overhead:

"Commander, what do we do now?"

"The enemy numbers about thirty, fifteen times ours, so..."

Rhodes recalled the information his all-seeing eyepatch had picked up on him while he was running—Imran Zakhaev, Vladimir Makarov—and chuckled as he pulled the bolt, his heart filled with joy.

“We have the advantage.”

Chapter 316: A Thousand Miles Away (15/20)

"Will killing or capturing that 'big enemy' really allow us to evacuate smoothly?"

Makarov frowned and said to Zakhaev. The two were now standing next to the only remaining BTR-80 armored vehicle, cautiously observing the soldiers who were advancing and suppressing the front.

The scene of the three heavily armored soldiers being killed by a burst of gunfire was so shocking that Makarov subconsciously wanted to take his boss and abandon the others and sneak away.

"What else can we do? We're being attacked by an entire army! And most of the soldiers here are our backbone. If we are wiped out here, it will take at least two or three years to recover."

Zakhaev said this angrily, feeling relieved that his son was not there. He reached out and took the AKS-74U rifle handed to him by the soldier behind him, unfolding the folding stock.

"We can't just retreat so easily... Moreover, if we don't even know who the enemy is, it will only make our defeat even more tragic."

After saying that, Zakhaev suddenly reached out and pressed Makarov's shoulder. The latter was startled, then understood and slowly retreated.

At this moment, more than 30 soldiers were slowly pressing forward from the left and right sides. They half-crouched and walked forward fearfully at the shouts of the two officers. Among them were two heavily armored soldiers - this group of Slavs were as strong as bears, and the machine guns in their hands were like toys, without a trace of recoil!

Snow was falling and the soldiers launched an attack.

Suddenly, explosions rang out! Balls of flames shot up in the snow. When the whistling sound of metal fragments cutting through the air mixed with the sound of the wind, someone shouted "Granada!" But those damn little things didn't stop for a moment, as if an entire company of people were throwing grenades at the same time, first a hundred, then another hundred!

The soldiers outside took out RPG-7s and bombarded the figure that flashed by the second-floor window. Dark gray smoke mixed with vaporized snow water sprayed out. The storm caused by the rocket wrapped around fragments of newspapers from several years ago. The yellowed paper pages were instantly carbonized in the shock wave and turned into black butterflies that flew towards the gas masks of the besiegers.

"Approach the apartment building quickly. There are only two of them. Sukaburi! Two people!"

Under Zakhaev's furious shouts, the soldiers had no choice but to continue advancing, stepping over their comrades who were writhing on the ground, stepping on their blood, like the British and French soldiers in World War I, who would only suffer the same fate:

Just as several soldiers approached the door of the apartment building, a flame burst out from it - the Soviet LPO-50 flamethrower used four 1.5-volt batteries to detonate compressed explosives through electric current, pressurizing the mixed fuel so that it could pass through the oil ignition tube at the muzzle and be ignited - accompanied by a bang, the eternal fire from hell instantly swept through the fragile human bodies!

But this wasn't the end! The flamethrower's fuel tank was thrown out and exploded in mid-air!

The flames roared through the snow, sending plumes of charred black smoke rising into the air, inhaled by the screaming humans and hastening their deaths and suffering.

Before the black smoke was blown away, a figure broke through the smoke and pierced into the wind and snow like an arrow!

"He's out--" a soldier wanted to shout, but his head was immediately pierced by a .357 Magnum bullet. Blood suddenly spurted out of the gas mask, covering the entire eyepiece.

Before the body fell, Rhodes had already reached his next target. He raised the muzzle of the soldier's rifle, allowing the bullets to leave a series of ugly bullet holes on the outer wall of the apartment building. Then, he dodged from the side of the soldier, raised his gun and shot the enemy further back, while pulling out the dagger at the soldier's waist.

The dagger spun between Rhodes' fingers, and the cold blade immediately returned to the warm flesh behind its owner's head.

Leaving behind the dagger and the corpse, Rhodes threw himself forward and rolled, avoiding the line of fire and activating the camouflage system of the stealth suit, allowing himself to blend into the falling snow. At close range, the camouflage was easily seen through, but it was enough to confuse enemies a little further away in this bad weather, even if it was just to buy a second.

After Rhode's figure disappeared in the snow, the heavily armored soldier who was firing a rifle shouted in frustration, but he immediately turned his head at the exclamations of the people next to him and looked up at the third floor of the apartment building:

A hooded figure stood there, holding an RPG.

The heavily armored soldiers didn't speak, so how could the scattered pieces of flesh speak?

"Where is he? He disappeared! The enemy's shooting accuracy is too high..."

Listening to the panicked shouts and the abrupt cessation of voices coming from the intercom, Zakhaev's face darkened. He had made up his mind to retaliate against the Ibris Organization once this was over—assuming, of course, that he could survive today. With this in mind, he turned to give orders to the soldiers behind him, only to find them standing there in a daze.

A sharp blade pierced the soldier's throat, making him make an eerie sound as if he was drowning in blood.

Rhodes drew out the exquisitely crafted dagger. Wearing gloves, he couldn't feel the warmth of the wooden hilt, but he could see the fear on the face of the man in front of him.

"Imran Zakhaev, you have that same expression," Rhodes said, taking Zakhaev's AKS-74U rifle from his hands like a child's toy and folding the stock. "Why don't I see your deputy, Vladimir Makarov? Oh, and your son doesn't seem to be here either."

"……who are you?"

"Heh," Rhode chuckled, then grabbed the terrorist's head and pressed it hard against the metal hull of the armored vehicle, causing the terrorist's face to touch firmly. "Listen carefully, I'm only asking you this once: where are the members of the Ibris Organization? Where are the nuclear warheads they want?"