Ronnie stretched a grim smile on his face, a flash of lamplight flashed in his eyes. He looked at what was at the end of the street - the entrance to the familiar courtyard where he spent many hours in the first days of the game, then opened the map, checked that nothing had changed, nodded to Onzaa, and asked if he was good at running and shooting, he replied that he was not.

"Their accuracy is lame. Listen to me if you want to live. Run to that narrow alley," Ronnie nodded in the direction of the houses opposite, "I'll cover with fire. While they're distracted by you, I'll have time to send three of them on a week's rest. As soon as they switch back to me, stick out and shoot, got it? We have the advantage."

"What's the advantage?" Onzaa asked in a trembling voice.

"We've got cover, they don’t. Ready?"

"No."

"Go now."

Ronnie tightened Barrett's tight shutter, inserted earplugs in his ears, and when Onzaa ran headlong, he put the Barrett on the ground on bipods and pointed the muzzle at the players. The first shot, which shook the windows in the houses, took the first hunter out of the game, piercing through the chest. The body immediately turned into ashes and scattered down the street. Two more shots – two more corpses. The players, as expected, started shooting at the column behind which Ronnie was hiding, and Onzaa, with trembling hands, brought the Browning muzzle around the corner – he did not look at it himself - and fired at random and hid his hand back. Ronnie noticed this and spat on the side, and when the enemy began reloading the machine guns, he decided not to test his fate with such a partner and threw a fragmentation grenade, got up, and rushed into the familiar courtyard at the end of the street.

"Get down!" One of the three survivors shouted.

The hunters rushed into the scattering and stopped firing. After the explosion, no one was injured, they raised their weapons and began shooting Ronnie in the back. Several bullets flew just two centimeters from his head. When he reached the corner of the house, he took out a mirror and began to observe what would happen next. Onzaa threw a second grenade. The hunters jumped in different directions while shouting and swearing. But instead of an explosion, smoke filled up the entire alley. Ronnie grimaced and continued to stand motionlessly. Instead of escaping, Onzaa ran out to the center of the street and waited for three dark figures to appear from behind the gray smoke. He tried to kill them before they noticed him, fired several shots, but the inept shooter was disabled right away after a long burst of ten bullets riddled his body. Ronnie spread out the Barrett on the ground and prepared to shoot, but he felt someone invisible approaching him because the air nearby was distorted and vibrating. The "camouflage" skill. It opens after pumping the "dexterity" stat above twenty. Ronnie shuddered, got up, and pressed his back against the wall.

"I'm a player, not a monster," he shouted. "Leave me alone!"

The killer backed off. The hunters were getting closer to Ronnie by this time. He lifted up the mirror and saw three hunters less than 30 yards away, spat, slung the rifle over his shoulder, took out a pistol and ran into the courtyard, right after he heard someone shout, "He's here! He's here!"

Ronnie climbed the iron, echoing stairs to the second floor, and crouched across the long inner balcony past the entrance doors. He sat down behind a small cover made of wooden boxes and waited for the enemy to come closer. The door behind him opened with a creak and one of the local residents ran out - in a wife-beater shirt, ugly boxers, and a cigar in his mouth - took out a Thomson machine gun and began firing in all directions. Ronnie jumped in the opposite direction, narrowly escaping death. The bullets scratched his right cheek, his left arm, and one flew half a centimeter over the top of his head. He fell on his back, his eyes widened, his breathing stopped, his hands gripped the handle of the pistol. Two short shots were enough to get rid of the new problem. He crawled on all four half a meter back to his cover, humming to himself. Those three from below heard the sounds of gunfire, looked closer and noticed their target, and opened fire. Ronnie ran away, stumbling and covering his head with his hands. Fortunately for him, the stairs to the third floor were very close, he managed to run into the inner corridors of the house and disappear.

The players watched through the door peepholes for what was happening, hiding in anticipation. Then shots will be heard somewhere, then one shadow will run past, followed by two more a minute and a half later. Many did not even understand what was going on and whispered among themselves.

On the third floor, on a small guest island created for socializing, there were unfinished or damaged copper sculptures dedicated to monsters or ancient deities from Earth. Some were missing arms, others were missing half of their heads, their lifeless eyes were oxidized, and their insides were rusted. The smell of dampness firmly held its position in this place. Ronnie hid behind a large shield of a knight standing near the wall and waited. Two hunters ran past without noticing him, and for their mistake received two bullets in the back. One survived and the last thing he saw was Ronnie's grinning face and the muzzle of Stechkin's gun looking straight into his forehead. There was one more opponent still on loose.

Ronnie went back into the inner corridor and reached the very end and knocked out the door of the last apartment and went inside. Empty. He ran into the bedroom and opened a small crack in the window and saw the last hunter run out from around the corner, towards the emergency exit, not expecting someone to open fire on him from above. The first two shots flew by, he cursed and ran back, not understanding where the shots came from. Ronnie set the automatic mode, exhaled, and pulled the trigger for the third time. Three bullets with a one-millisecond delay escaped from the barrel of the pistol and hit the neck and occipital part of the enemy's head. His body burned up like a straw scarecrow, leaving behind black ashes swirling in the air. Ronnie holstered his gun and climbed up the fire escape at the end of the house, went down, and ran away. The streets in front of his eyes were replaced one after another, turning into a blurred picture on the easel of an impressionist artist.

The amount of experience has risen from 0% to 13%

"AI."

"At your service."

"Can't you send a message to the players that they are shooting at the wrong person?"

"My apologies, I have no such authority."

"Make a warning that there is a player look-a-like monster in the city. Let them check before shooting."

"My apologies, I can't do that either. I only can interact with you."

"Fucking bullshit."