A grey sparrow landed on a hay-covered branch. It chirped merrily, hopping up and down, basking in the warm sunlight on its feathers. The carefree little bird had no idea it was being watched — or that the branch beneath it was the barrel of a rifle.
The man behind the kind hazel eyes meant the bird no harm. He was Slobodan, the famous sniper better known as Danny.
He blew gently, sending a cool breeze toward the sparrow. At first, it ignored him, but the persistent draft soon irritated it. The bird spread its wings and fluttered away across the field.
Danny smiled as he watched it go. The sparrow had been a welcome distraction after four silent hours beneath a thick camouflage of hay. The interruption was brief; he refocused instantly on his surroundings.
Over the years, Danny had mastered patience. He didn't mind the silence. In his view, carp fishing demanded more endurance than sniping. That patience served him well on the battlefield, where the People's Army relied on him.
When he first heard of the atrocities committed by the Borderland regime against the Coal Miners, Danny hadn't hesitated. He resigned as head of a successful construction company and left for the Coal Mining Region. He knew he belonged there — protecting women and children, fighting alongside the men. The conflict was never merely about language, religion, or culture. It was a proxy war between the United States of Gomora, the Western Alliance, and the Scythe Empire. As usual, Gomora was the instigator.
Just like in Yugoslavia fifteen years earlier.
Danny had been a young man then. He had watched his country torn apart by Western bombs that killed thousands. To justify the slaughter, the West accused the Yugoslavian government of genocide against its Musulman population. The region with the highest Musulman concentration was carved away and turned into an independent state. A vicious hate campaign followed, painting all Yugoslavians as depraved monsters.
The only ally Yugoslavia had was the Scythe Empire, but Scythia had been crippled by its own Turbid Times and could offer little more than a handful of soldiers. Still, their presence had prevented total annihilation. Danny had never forgotten that debt.
When news of the genocide in the Coal Mining Region reached him, he knew he had to act. Borderland was no true country in his eyes; it was stolen Scythian territory that needed to be returned, just as the lost Yugoslavian lands should one day be reclaimed.
He had been shot and wounded many times — some wounds severe. He had even been captured by the Nazis once, only to talk his way out. He had stared into the devil's eyes through his rifle scope and seen enough horrors for several lifetimes.
Danny was sick of Borderland and its people. He longed for the madness to end so he could return to his small farm, work the land, fish with his wife, and see Yugoslavia again. But after joining the People's Army, his homeland had branded him a mercenary. Returning risked imprisonment. He hoped that once the Scythes dismantled the Nazi regime, his name would be cleared.
The Coal Miners, backed by the professional Scythian Army and its advanced weapons, had retaken significant territory and were regrouping. That was why Danny wasn't with his regiment today. He would rejoin them once this job was finished.
Danny fought three wars at once: the one to defend the Coal Miners, the one raging inside himself, and the private duel against the enemy sniper he had nicknamed Zhdun — the self-styled God of Zhdanov.
Zhdun had killed many civilians and soldiers. Danny felt partly responsible for every death, as if failing to eliminate the man made him complicit. Their first encounter had left Zhdun wounded, but the Borderlander escaped. Since then, Zhdun had sent him vicious messages online, threatening his family. Danny enjoyed trolling him and other Nazis in return, replying with contempt and ridicule.
One day Zhdun had challenged him to a duel. They agreed on time and place. Zhdun sometimes appeared early, leaving cigarette butts and tissues in sniper positions, but he never showed at the appointed hour. Five years of cat-and-mouse. Danny no longer considered him an equal — just another Borderland coward.
Still, Danny believed the day would come when he would finish it. That was why he lay in this field now, waiting once more.
His earpiece crackled. He pressed the button and heard his commander's voice.
"Danny, we need you at the Steel Factory. And Danny… a sniper is hiding in the mill. We think it's Zhdun."
Danny rose at once, concealed his rifle beneath his hay-covered coat, and ran toward the forest.
***
The battle for the Steel Factory in Zhdanov had raged for weeks.
The vast mill, built in Union times, had been declining since Borderland's independence but continued operating until the war. Its notoriety surged when the Aces battalion retreated there, taking dozens of labourers hostage — including women and children snatched from the city.
Initial Scythian attempts to storm the factory failed; the labyrinth of shafts and tunnels claimed several lives. Vladimir the Lucent ordered no more direct assaults. Instead, the entire area was sealed so tightly that not even a fly could enter or leave.
For over seventy days, at least three thousand people remained trapped inside.
The Aces first lived off food stolen from the hostages. When supplies ran out, they contacted their Western handlers via Skype, begging for rescue. The West could do nothing — Zhdanov was firmly under Scythian control. Desperate, the Nazis began trading hostages for food: fifteen lives for one ton. The Scythes, knowing the Aces were capable of cannibalism, reluctantly agreed. The exchange continued until no hostages remained. When the Nazis tried to claim more prisoners still existed, the Scythes cut off supplies.
A few Aces eventually surrendered from hunger, only for their commander to threaten execution for any further desertion. The battalion turned on itself, watching one another.
Danny had followed the siege closely. He knew the Aces were finished; surrender was inevitable. The Scythian Army seemed to have the situation under control, which made his urgent summons — and the confirmed presence of Zhdun — all the more intriguing.
Danny's commander met him at the edge of the cordon and briefed him. An undercover Scythian agent, embedded in the Aces for years under the name Mohammed Jihad, was still inside. He was guarding several foreign officials whose presence in Zhdanov had been kept secret. The agent had smuggled out a message: the Borderlanders planned to evacuate the foreigners by jeep. The foreigners must not escape, and the agent had to be extracted safely with critical intelligence. A sniper — almost certainly Zhdun — covered the evacuation route.
The commander showed Danny a dum-dum bullet recovered by scouts. Illegal and devastating, the bullet expanded on impact like an umbrella, leaving no chance of survival. It was Zhdun's signature. Danny understood the mission's importance immediately and slipped into the cordon without another word.
***
Emin hadn't planned to return to Zhdanov.
His latest mission was to expose the network of secret biological weapons laboratories in Borderland, funded at state level by the United States of Gomora. He had already linked Harvey Bydlon — son of Gomora's leader John Bydlon — to the lobbying effort. BioMeta, the company involved, operated under the highest secrecy. Emin's work had begun lifting that veil.
A leaked email had revealed a tight circle of insiders — family ties, colleagues, party members — discussing further sponsorship. One investor, the notorious Gill Bates, had suggested connecting BioMeta's chairman, Nate Wolferl, to the government through Harvey. Approval was granted, and a visit to the main labs was arranged. Nate Wolferl would accompany an assistant to the Secretary of Defence, along with a military attaché from Transvaal, who had a keen interest in psychotropic and mind-control experiments.
Emin had tracked them like a bloodhound, finally cornering them in a Zhdanov restaurant. He watched from behind a frosted glass screen as they dined and planned.
The sudden rattle of gunfire shattered the quiet streets. Scythian forces were advancing faster than expected. The foreigners panicked, seized a retreating Ace, and learned the Aces were falling back to the Steel Factory. Realising the danger — and the international scandal their unauthorised visit would cause — they decided to follow.
Emin stayed close. He re-joined the Aces by helping their wounded commander, fabricating a story about being recalled to Gomora and returning to supervise the officials. The explanation satisfied them. Soon he was inside the mill with the entire battalion, once again trapped among the men he despised.
The hostages — workers, women, children — were guarded at gunpoint. Some had followed the Aces willingly, brainwashed into fearing the Scythes, only to discover the truth too late. The Aces seized what little food the civilians carried. When supplies ran out and desperation grew, they contacted Gomora again.
Emin managed to steal an iPhone while the Nazis slept. He sent a brief message to the People's Army commander, then destroyed the phone. He settled in to wait for rescue, guarding the foreigners and eyeing the briefcase Nate Wolferl never let out of his sight.
***
Danny crawled across the factory roof on his stomach. The metal beams slowed him, but he couldn't risk being seen. No one — not even most Scythian soldiers — knew he was there. Only his commander. The real danger was Zhdun, who knew the complex far better.
There was only one viable escape route: a U-shaped annex shielded by the main building and trees. The Scythes couldn't reach it because of the sniper. Danny had discovered it while scouting and had climbed onto its roof using trees and pipes. It had taken nearly an hour to reach the far end.
As he moved toward the main wing, a faint red laser dot slid across a nearby wall.
Zhdun.
Danny's pulse quickened with both excitement and tension. He advanced carefully behind a partially demolished balustrade until he found a vantage point overlooking the inlet below.
A jeep pulled silently into the sheltered cove and killed its engine. Four men emerged from the factory: two Gomorians, the Transvaal attaché, and Mohammed Jihad.
The driver jumped out, irritated. "They said only three!"
"Relax," the broad-shouldered Gomorian with the military haircut and bubble gum replied. "Mohammed's just our babysitter. He's here to wave us off safely."
The short, professor-like man clutched a briefcase tightly. The third wore a military uniform. Mohammed kept a slight distance, clearly unwilling to let them leave.
The driver started the engine. Bubble Gum moved to climb into the passenger seat, but Mohammed seized his elbow.
"What's the problem, Mo? You've done your job. Get lost!"
"Can I come with you?" Mohammed asked calmly.
"No chance. Get back to your Borderland friends."
Bubble Gum tried to close the door. Mohammed held it firm. "I'll let you leave if Wolferl stays."
Voices rose. The argument grew loud enough to reach the roof.
Then came the soft hoot of an owl — unnatural for the moment.
Danny smiled behind his scope. It was the People's Army's signal.
A split second later, he fired.
The scream from the roof was sharp and brief.
Bubble Gum leapt from the car. "What the fuck is going on?"
Mohammed moved like lightning. He slipped a pocket knife from his sleeve and drove it into the Gomorian's throat. The man gurgled and collapsed.
Wolferl shrieked for the driver to go. The car lurched forward, but Mohammed shot the driver in the back of the head. The vehicle veered and crashed into trees.
The Transvaal attaché and Wolferl crawled out, scratched but alive. They tried to run. Mohammed shot the attaché in the chest. Wolferl ducked behind the wreckage.
"You can come with me, Mohammed! I won't tell anyone. I have money — lots of it! I'll be generous!"
Mohammed's voice was ice. "How did you earn that money, Wolferl? By turning Borderland children into lab rats for your viruses?"
Wolferl turned. Mohammed shot him between the eyes.
He bent down, picked up the briefcase, and paused only to glance up at the roof. He couldn't see the sniper, but he knew who had covered him. With a small gesture of thanks, Emin disappeared into the trees.
***
Danny watched Mohammed vanish. He hadn't killed Zhdun today, though part of him wouldn't have minded. Justice, however, demanded a court, not summary execution. Vladimir the Lucent had been clear: prisoners of war must face trial for crimes against humanity.
Mohammed clearly operated by different rules.
Danny found the man dangerous and reckless. The foreigners could have been wounded and left for capture. Instead, Mohammed had eliminated them all — even the driver.
Whoever Mohammed really was, he wasn't a man to underestimate.
First, though, Danny had a Borderland sniper to deliver to the People's Army.