Zhukov was the only one awake in the back of the wagon. Though he was half tempted to just lob himself out of the cart, he let his curiosity get the better of him.

“Oi Grundolf, ye bastard. What the hell’s going on.”

“Oh, one of the drunk’s woke up?”

One of the tiny men alongside Grundolf spoke up.

“Damn straight. Now answer me before I get to tearing your arse out your throat!”

“Calm down there Zhukov. I did say you’d be paying me back for the drinks after all.”

“Oh I’ll be paying you back alright. With about six feet of dirt!”

Zhukov grabbed one of the guards and pulled him into the back of the wagon. He drew his revolver and put it up to the grey skinned being’s head. Grundolf turned back and frowned.

“We’re just going fer a bit of dungeoneering lad. No need to be pissin yer pants back there.”

“Fuck you, I ain’t going tah jail.”

“Jail? I may be a guard, but it’s not like I’m locking you behind bars or anything.”

At that very moment, Hans woke up screaming.

“Oh no, not ze sex dungeon! Zis isn’t what I signed up for!”

“By the gods. Are you people mad! A dungeon is  just a place filled with treasures of all kinds.”

“Lies! Damn lies! Ze dungeon of ze sex has no treasure, only sadness and self-loathing.”

“Grundolf, I usually have faith in your choice of companions for these dungeon trips, but not this time.”

The gray skinned man expressed his worries as he began to sweat. Grundolf sighed and, after handing the reins to the other guard, turned back to face Zhukov and Hans.

“Now, listen here. Dungeons are relics of times long past in these lands. In the olden days, civilization was spread far and wide, but now...only ruins remain. The harsh climates and dangerous beasts who live in these lands forced us back to the Hub. Only in recent years have we been able to reclaim the lands we’ve lost, but…”

Grundolf’s shoulders slumped. He was clearly not happy with the topic.

“As you can see, we are still facing incredible difficulties. The human settlement that you came from, it was one of only two in this land. Now, with the news you’ve brought, we are the only ones-”

*Bang*

Grundolf’s sad story was interrupted by Zhukov discharging his firearm into the air.

“Back to the point.”

“Aye, Aye. Damn those things are loud. Anyways we scavenge these ruins for abandoned treasures. They fetch a high price back at the Hub. You help me scavenge them, and I’ll help you get to the Hub.”

Zhukov, seemingly satisfied with the answer, let go of the man he was holding. The grey skinned man breathed a sigh of relief, returning to the front of the cart. Zhukov looked over his companions and was struck with a sudden revelation. They barely had any weapons.

“Wait dammit, we need to go back!”

“Too late now laddie, we’ll be at the ruins in an hours time.”

“You didn’t even let us prepare you fucker!”

“Well, you could’ve. If you weren’t all dead drunk.”

“And where the hell is Igor!”

“Oh, uh...funny story. You see he bought a room at the tavern.”

Zhukov was about to tear his hair out.

“And we couldn’t!”

Grundolf whistled nervously, pretending that he didn’t hear anything. Zhukov smacked his head and looked over the equipment they had, which wasn’t much. His crew still had their sidearms, but since they didn’t bring any spare ammo, they were left with only what was loaded. Hans and Jack didn’t appear to have any weapons at all on them. Zhukov shook his head at the poor situation they were in.

“How did you expect us to defend ourselves if we didn’t have any weapons?”

“Well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to do much other than carry luggage.”

“Zis...Zis I definitely did not sign up for.”

…..

With nothing but time to waste while waiting to arrive at their destination, Zhukov brought up a few topics he was concerned.

“So, what the hell is this Hub place anyways?”

“The Hub is the last bastion of civilization. The only safe place in these god forsaken times. Though, even that may not be for much longer…”

“And you were saying something about lands?”

“Oh, yes. You see currently we are in the realm of Midgard. Each land is surrounded by mountains in every direction. The only connection between these lands, as far as we know, is the Hub. Right now we are in the lands of Kyske, of the never ending cold. To the north are the swamplands of Inurea. To the east, the plains of Thasil. In the northeast, lie the endless deserts of Urlagh.”

“I suppose Hans was right, we aren’t in our own world anymore.”

“You would doubt Hans? Zat makes me sad.”

Zhukov ignored Hans and continued on with his questions.

“So, what...are you then?”

“Ah yes, I suppose you’ve noticed by now. We aren’t quite men. Well, I’m a dwarf. Skreebit on my left here is a ratman. The man you were holding hostage, Joxil, is a Gremlin.

“I am Skreebit. I like many shiny. You make Skreebit many shiny, and Skreebit will make you many less shiny.”

“Is he...Is he okay?”

“Um, well Skreebit’s race is a bit special. They are intelligent of course, just not very intelligent.”

“Skreebit will have all the shiny! None shall stop Skreebit! Except for maybe Skreebit.”

“I’m a Joxil, a Gremlin, I hope we ca-”

Before Joxil could finish his spreech, Jack had woken up and begun strangling the poor Gremlin.

“Damn dirty Gremlins! Always fucking with my Hurricane! I would’ve still had a plane to fly, hadn’t you dirty bastards loosened the bolts on my landing gear!”

The Gremlin was clawing at the hands around his neck, but the difference in strength between the two was apparent. Zhukov managed to pull Jack off of the Gremlin, throwing him down onto Sergei.

“Fuck!”

“Oops, sorry Sergei.”

“Fuck you Zhukov! I was having the most pleasant dream about my rifle. Wait, where is rifle anyways?”

Jack picked Sergei up by his collar, and began to land a series of blows onto his face.

“Damn dirty Gremlins!”

“The fuck did I do!”

“Hey Jack, he’s not a Gremlin.”

Jack dropped Sergei, letting him fall back into the wagon. He laughed nervously as he patted a very pissed off Sergei on the head. Sergei was about to express his displeasure, but was interrupted by a declaration from Grundolf.

“Oi lads, we’ll be nearing the ruins soon.”

Everyone who was awake peered out of the wagon, ahead was a thick forest.

…..

The wagon was too large to maneuver in the forest, thus it was left behind. The horses were tied up to trees, and the rest of the sleeping drunks were woken. Most of them seemed a bit too hungover to care about their situation. Grundolf handed everyone a rucksack and they set off into the woods.

After a short walk they spotted a clearing up ahead. In the clearing the mossy ruins of a stone building could be seen. Zhukov grabbed Grundolf and yanked him back before he could walk any further.

“Wait, look.”

Next to the ruins, a small campfire was burning. A few men surrounded the fire. Though Zhukov had stopped Grundolf, Jack and Hans had continued on, nearly emerging into the clearing.

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“Hey Hans, don’t these fellows look like friends of yours?”

“Oh, yes I know zese people vell.”

Hans walked out into the open and cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the men.

“Hon hon, ve ve, baguette! I am ze Frenchman!”

Hans posed before the dumbstruck men, his arms spread wide. They were not pleased with his performance, seeming almost insulted by it.

“Dammit Hans, those were Italians!”

“Oh, I can never tell ze difference.”

The Italian soldiers raised their rifles and started firing at the two, who had managed to dive back into cover.

“Fall back you dumbasses!”

Zhukov called the two back, and they happily rejoined the others.

“Sergei, Yakov, Vasily. Go left and get around their flank. Grundolf, Skree-fuckface, that Gremlin thing. Get behind cover, a rock or something, and wait. Hans and Jack, get behind me and hide.”

Sergei’s group drew their sidearms and began to crawl along the forest floor. Grundolf and his associates were a little offended by Zhukov’s words, but under the thunderous roar of gunfire, they were more than happy to hide. Hans and Jack hid in the brush of the forest behind Zhukov.

After a few minutes, the roars of gunfire died down. Zhukov lied in wait, his back to the tree he was using as cover. Eventually, the crunching of leaves could be heard as footsteps grew closer.

Skreebit’s curiosity got the better of him, as he peeked out from his cover. Much to his dismay, he found one of the Italian soldiers pointing a rifle straight at him. The soldier fired, his shot ricocheted off the the rock Skreebit was behind. Skreebit screamed, the Italian screamed back.

The soldier charged, his bayoneted rifle held like a spear. He sprinted past the tree Zhukov was hiding behind, and was stopped in his tracks by a fist to the face. When the man fell to the ground, Zhukov shot him in the head.

Zhukov picked up the corpse’s rifle and worked the bolt, chambering the next round. He emerged from his cover and fired at the first soldier he saw, who dove for cover. Zhukov then threw the rifle to Jack, switching back to his own sidearm. He signalled his crew to start their assault on the enemy's flank.

With their flanks compromised, the Italians started to fall back to the ruins. Jack was attempting to fire on them, but after three shots the rifle’s clip fell out of the magazine.

“Aw, bloody hell. I think it broke.”

Zhukov sighed and grabbed the ammo pouch on the unconscious soldier’s waist. He threw it to Jack, who raised an eyebrow after seeing the en-bloc clips inside. But, after a few moments he managed to figure out how to reload the rifle.

On the left side Sergei’s group had also managed to grab a rifle from a corpse, and were advancing towards the clearing. They had expended all the ammo for their sidearms though, leaving them with only the rifle.

Zhukov ordered everyone back to regroup.

“Hey Grundolf, how badly do we need these ruins?”

“Depends, how badly do you want to get to the Hub.”

Zhukov sighed after seeing Grundolf’s sheepish grin.

“Alright then. Sergei, Vasily, Yakov, Jack. On me.”

When everyone arrived, Zhukov began sharing his plans.

“Jack and Sergei, I need you to provide covering fire with those rifles. You don’t need to hit anything, just fire as fast as you can in their general direction. Make ‘em think we are all still bunched up over here. Vasily, Yakov, and I will get around behind them. We’ll take ‘em by surprise.”

Sergei and Jack found cover near the clearing, and began firing on the ruins. The Italians were quick to return fire. In the meantime, Zhukov took his group along the edge of the clearing. Their goal was to make it to the building without being spotted, as they had little more than a single revolver. Once they made it close enough, the group dropped to the ground and began to crawl towards the ruins.

They crawled to one of the few walls left standing and lied in wait. Zhukov peered into the ruins, finding only three of the Italian soldiers left standing. Now all that was left to do was wait for the perfect moment. They didn’t have to wait long, Jack and Sergei had expended their ammunition and were starting to reload. With no more gunfire heading in their direction, Zhukov signalled his group to attack.

Yakov and Vasily brandished their combat knives and charged at the the two closest soldiers. Behind them, Sergei loosed a short volley at the furthest soldier from them. As the soldier lost consciousness from blood loss, he futilely fired his rifle into the air.

After hearing the gunshots, and the screams of his dying comrade, one of the soldiers turned back to find Yakov charging him with a knife. The soldier attempted to shoot Yakov, but the latter was close enough to redirect the rifle with his hand. The bullet was sent off target, harmlessly hitting a stone wall. Yakov followed up with a slash to the neck, but the soldier managed to step back, resulting in little more than a scratch.

The two were nearly in a deadlock. The soldier had a rifle, but he was too close to use it effectively. Instead of chambering another round, the soldier attempted to bash with the butt of his rifle, but he was tackled to the ground by Yakov. The soldier was stabbed repeatedly in the heart, sending fresh blood splashing up onto his killer’s face. The Italian weakly raised his arm, only for it to go limp as his vision faded to blackness.

Vasily’s target was much more prepared than the other two, having already brandished a bayonet. Vasily turned back and began to run away with the soldier chasing behind him.

“Get down!”

Vasily dove to the floor. Zhukov fired a single shot into the chest of the charging soldier. Though the shot hit the soldier directly in the chest, he didn’t stop his adrenaline fueled charge. Zhukov threw his revolver, much to the surprise of the soldier, who ended up getting hit directly in the face. Vasily took this chance to grab the soldier’s own rifle, bayoneting him while he was still stunned.

Zhukov walked over and picked up his revolver. He was in the middle of looking it over for damage when bullets started hitting the wall nearby.

“Hey dumbasses, they’re dead!”

Though to his dismay, his comrades took his words in the wrong way.

“You bastards, you killed our comrades.”

“Look, its me Zhukov!”

Zhukov popped out of the ruins, his hands in the air.

“Oh, would you look at that Sergei. I suppose we know this chap.”

Despite Jack recognizing Zhukov, another shot was still fired. The bullet scraped past Zhukov’s cheek, sending a small amount of blood spraying out of the new wound.

“Oh, sorry boss.”

Sergei lowered his rifle after seeing how pissed off his commander was.

Zhukov sighed and turned back to the ruins. Grundolf had said there would be valuables, but all he could see were corpses. After a investigating a bit further, he found a staircase leading down, hidden in a corner.. Curious, Zhukov peered down the staircase, only to find a familiar horror. Luckily, this one appeared to be dead. Bullet wounds were spread all over its corpse.

“The Svalski…”

Grundolf was behind Zhukov, his eyes his eyes wide in surprise.