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— If you don't praise yourself, no one will, eh? — The prefect grinned, and it was obvious that the mercenary liked that phrase in some way. — You only have nicknames. I see you don't use names. Is there some reason for that, or can't he remember why?
— You know, the reason is one and very simple… You can't get a name dirty if you don't have one… That's why we have only nicknames. — Cobra replied, squinting a little and looking away.
You're all that dirty, aren't you? I don't get it. Is it a guilty conscience? Where is there a conscience these days? Let alone someone who appreciates it.
— It's not a matter of conscience, dear prefect. It's about memory… It's not important for everyone to leave behind a good memory. But no one wants to leave behind a bad one.
— Interesting approach to the case. And it's all very well, of course… But I wonder if you remember your own surnames well… So that at least you have something to remember.
— You're a clever prefect. Clever… I guess I wasn't wrong when I decided to make a deal with you first… You kept your surnames at the mine, too, didn't you just remember the numbers that the plagues gave you?
— Yes, we did. We kept calling ourselves what we used to. Maybe we survived because we kept our own face. Not the plague fangs on our flags.
— While we're on the subject of plagues…" Cobra spoke even more quietly, even though no one could hear them. — They don't fight very well. The Imperial Army especially. It's all about numbers. They put up artillery and fire it until it's red… The SCK has elite divisions, but they're few… Without us, they can't hold it all….
It was clear from the Mountain's eyes, though vaguely, that this was huge news to him.
Assuming, of course, that he believed those words. But Cobra was not going to deceive him:
— Now we're covering the entire Donetsk-Makeyevka group. All the ground units. And we don't let the Maquis come even close… Beyond Bakhmut they come only by sabotage groups. And you already know what happened to the largest of them… And while the plagues were in charge, the Maquis were visible even in Gorlovka, right here at our side. And the groups were quite different in volume. The plagues didn't get out of their positions there. All around the facilities and near the roads… And we drove the poppies away behind Bakhmut. They're sitting far away now. — Metropolitan means you fear the metropolitan… Like me…..
— Like you…
Cobra hadn't spoken so frankly to anyone in a long time. And there was no one to talk to. There were only snitches and scribblers around. Some of them are trying to lay as nothing to do, and make up on the way, which was not. The others, graffomaniacs, do nothing but talk for nothing, discussing what has already been said a hundred times before them. Which one of them is there to discuss what with? Shall we give food to both of them? Is it necessary? However, someone obviously needs it, since these two cohorts of people are so prosperous… And businessmen are hard to find… Gora turned out to be a very businesslike man. And he's not afraid of anything. They usually sit in a bunker and give orders. And they don't even know how they are carried out, because they get everything on paper and in words. They'll just be commanding paper battalions. But they will save their lives… And others, on the contrary, do nothing but rush everywhere, and do not think about what will happen to all their activities, if an explosion does not go off inadvertently, and a bullet does not fly into their heads. That's probably why they don't have a lot of well-thought-out moves… But Gora is not like that at all. He cares about security, and thinks strategically, and does not sit in a bunker for nothing….
Cobra began to remember his friends and suddenly remembered Jackal… Yes, he was a great friend. So many times saved… Yes, how saved. Saved from the last asshole, and did not ask for anything for it … And at least tell me who nailed him, that he needed intercessors from the SCK. You should have told me before you do something you can't fix later… Maybe something was different. And now there's no Jackal. He's got a nickname for himself, too, of course… He's never been a jackal. Unless he gives something of his own… His boys, however, all went to Raven. Or, rather, they were given to Raven… Maybe it was all because of him….
He noticed that in the distance, on the northwest side near the industrial tower, just on the side from Gorlovka that he had just mentioned, his men were not visible. They were, of course, hiding themselves, and you wouldn't see anyone at a glance, but he knew them perfectly well, and what their positions were. He might not have seen all of them, but he must have seen someone…
There were people along the road to the north and west, but no one to the northwest….
You know, Prefect, we should take a break… With this repair. I don't have a good feeling about this…" Cobra said aloud, so that the others could hear him, and gave a command over the radio.
Gora turned in the direction Cobra was looking and almost instantly commanded his own:
— Company, to battle! Ten o'clock. Do not fire without command.
The miners and the guard company immediately took up positions and pressed themselves to the ground. By now, Cobra's men had spread out even wider in a radius. Nothing followed. The sun was still shining, the wind was blowing slightly. No shots fired, no movement.
In the distance to the northwest, the
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