How did Konrad get himself into such an impossible scenario again?
All he came here for was to find Strelok, bring him back, and help seal Lucifer away.
Instead, he found out about the Zone and missed his chance when they met.
Also lost his magic.
And now, his new friend wanted him to make a promise he had no way of keeping.
"We must go to the heart of the Zone and find whoever is responsible," Dmitry pleaded. "This place is killing hundreds, if not thousands. And if he succeeds, the whole Earth might—"
"I get it, okay?" Konrad interrupted. "And I'd like to help. But my homeworld's also under attack."
Every extra day he spent here might have spelled Kasserlane's doom.
And not because he was oh-so powerful to stop that fallen angel by himself.
But once he delivered Strelok, Gabrielle could finally do it. Somehow.
Thus, he had to stay focused on his task and return as fast as he could.
Later, if everything was all right back home, he could have returned to help, but—
'How are you going to portal back exactly?' the parallel brain asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Right. He had no idea.
Not without magic, or his connection to Lily.
"I have to get Strelok out of the Zone, and then—"
'What if he refuses? He didn't seem like a reasonable fellow to me. Shot me in the face with his primitive firearm and left me there in the dark, cut off from everything.'
"You don't even have a face," Konrad grunted.
But yeah, for him to have a beef with the man was not that surprising.
And he raised a valid point.
He needed Strelok alive, but how would he convince him to help without his usual tools?
"You talking to the brain again?" Dmitry asked, letting out a heavy sigh. "Guess I'm too selfish."
"No," Konrad yelled. "You're not. We face very similar issues, and I'd want to help, but—"
But how?
He felt powerless again.
Sure, he had these amazing artifacts that could keep him alive in most cases.
But without his magic, what else could he do?
'He has no idea you lost it, by the way,' the brain pointed out. 'He thinks you're a self-centered prick dragging him around but refusing to help when it's your turn. Why don't you tell him?'
'I'm pretty sure he does not think that,' Konrad snapped back, this time remaining silent.
But how would he know?
Did he even know this guy? Like, actually?
"Look, I'm not forcing you," the Captain mumbled, kicking at a pebble as they walked. "I'm thankful for everything you have done for me. Without you, that missile would have already—"
"I lost my magic," he blurted out, unable to take it any longer. "During that Blowout."
Dmitry froze, staring at him as if he confessed he had already died.
"What do you mean you lost it?!" he demanded, turning pale, and forgetting how to walk.
And this was the reaction he expected.
Now that he knew Konrad was useless, what reason did he have to stick around?
"I mean, I can no longer cast spells, or erect barriers, read minds, or anything," he admitted.
"Since the Blowout," Dmitry repeated. "So when we went to the Wild Territories, and the lab—"
"Yeah, that's why I was trying to avoid all that."
Expected it or not, this situation was still becoming awkward.
Especially when the Captain actually fell to his knees.
"Holy shit. We almost died there," he moaned, on all fours now. "You should've told me. I'm such an idiot for forcing you into it. But I thought, if you already stopped a missile—"
"Um, yeah, sorry to disappoint," Konrad mumbled, unsure what to do.
'This is why honesty is important, I guess,' the brain even had to rub salt into the injury.
But when Dmitry looked up again, he was begging for forgiveness.
"I'm so sorry. I thought you could do anything, and didn't even think about the risks."
Wait. So he wasn't mad at him but at himself?!
"Okay. Yeah. Let's keep things simple," the Captain said, getting off the ground and dusting himself off. "I'm going to protect you no matter what. As a payback for Kyiv."
"What? No, you don't have to," Konrad tried to protest, but he waved him off.
"No, I insist. I'll help you finish your mission, return to my post, and report on my findings. Not sure how many will believe me, or how much force they can gather, but we'll take care of this."
"Um, sorry," he muttered, not even sure why. "But if I got my magic back, I could return to help."
'Oh man, your bromance sure knows no bounds,' the brain interjected. 'You'd cross as many dimensions as it took to help a friend in need. So very bromantic.'
Fuck that thing. If he ever got home, he'd get rid of it.
Lily must have known a way.
'Okay, okay, I stop,' he said, holding up his non-existent hands in surrender. 'But I had to shake you up a bit because we're nearing the Duga now. I've sensed a lot of zombies nearby.'
Oh. Right.
They had no time for a picnic and a deep heart-to-heart.
"How should we do this?" Konrad asked, reaching for the guitar case he'd pick up when passing the bar. "Will you have enough ammo for the Gepard? Or should I—"
He pulled out his adamantite sword.
No Stalkers should have come this far, so they wouldn't see him use it, either.
Ah, it felt way more natural in his hands than that machete.
And now that he had his life-saving artifacts back as well—
'You recovered fast,' the brain noted. 'But he has a whole arsenal underneath that jacket, too.'
"I'll be fine," Dmitry noted, almost as if he had heard the voice. "I picked up a Krinkov when we took care of the zombies with the scientists. It needed some cleaning, but—"
He opened that jacket, with the tiniest AK Konrad had ever seen hidden below.
"It's light, high rate of fire, and uses the most abundant ammo type in the Zone," the Captain explained. "It'll be perfect for close quarters. Plus, I still have my Fort pistol, and—oh wait."
He pulled out two more handguns from his deep pockets.
Yeah, he had a full arsenal indeed.
"I kept two of the mercenaries' pistols with all the ammo they had," he noted. "Take one. This will pack a bigger punch than your Makarov. But keep that one too, in case you run out."
Konrad had regretted asking.
It was the same Five-seveN that almost killed them both.
But, well, to use it against the zombies, it might have been fine.
Speaking of which.
"Hey, sidebrain," he asked. "Can't you turn the zombies back to how they were?"
The voice remained silent—as always, when he asked him a question of any importance.
But it didn't make him wait too long.
'Not possible,' he claimed. 'It's that their brain have degraded too far. I could put them in a vegetative state or take over them—if you touch them each. But they'll never be human again.'
Well, it was worth a shot.
He repeated the answer to the Captain, too, who let out a long sigh.
"Oh well," he said, taking the Gepard off his back. "Guess it's time for a turkey shoot, then."