(AMMO COUNT: MOSIN NAGANT: 27 TOKAREV: 10 GRENADES: 2)

While it wasn't a killshot, at least Nadiya could take it as hitting her designated quarry. Merely she had cat scratched the Nazi [i]mudak[/i], but with that wound to his shoulder, she was sure to have notched him down a peg or two at least, bringing him to a halt behind the abandoned vehicle now dead in her Mosin's sight. There was no possible way she assumed he would be able to move after that, trapped behind cover for fear of the next round barreling onwards towards his head, plus she was also certain the Jerry was too preoccupied at the moment with dressing his small nick of the skin. 

This would give ample time for the woman to move to the next vantage point possibly, but come to think of it, there was quite the trek between Nadiya and the bombed out library to the south of the German's cover, nothing but an open spot there and just slim picking for the Russian, however...it would mean traversing with all her weapons, all her gear bearing on her, down the stairwell into the sanctuary of the church, then mad sprinting it across the barren street towards the side-alley where she could enter the library's first floor through a chasm in the brick wall. Then, it would be another harrowing climb to the second, where she would have the perfect shot lined up for her from the middle windowsill about two down from the southermost windowsill. 

The more she thought of it like that, Nadiya considered it more of a calculated risk than a spur of the moment maneuver to give her higher advantage over her enemy, but...some risks were worth taking when it came more to survival than achieving valor. [i]I could go for it.[/i] The Russian woman pondered, her eyes still very affixed upon the damaged car, the very same her target cowered behind. [i]But placing me out on the street....it would be suicide, but wait...[/i] She remembered he discarded his weapon, the Sturm having been emptied in a frenzy of suppression fire and now left on the ground to rust...along with the rest of this damn city. However, did that honestly mean the Kraut wasn't carrying a secondary? He'd be a fool not to, for any soldier, especially of his ranking and notoriety, always brandished their service pistols proudly at their hip. Why even Nadiya was not foolish enough to forget her TT-33, lest the same gun be used against her for such. It was more than a weapon. The service pistol was a badge of honor to any soldier, and as such....Nadiya was damn sure the Kraut had his.

[i]It's not as though he can hit me with it. I mean, the dumbass wasted a perfectly good gun trying to keep my head down.[/i] And what did that say to the soldier's merit. Not a whole lot. [i]I can make it.[/i] The decision was made. Carefully, Nadiya lifted herself, the brunt of her ammo's weight already pushing against her as she rose to her feet, Mosin in hand. She hastily yet quietly made her way down the spiral steps of the belfry, into the sanctuary of the lost and lonely church as figured, yet paused, immediately going prone before she reached the church's doorway. Things had always looked so simple from up there in her little perch, but now that the angel of death has descended to the ground, she was but a mere mortal again, putting herself in the line of the German's fire. 

She could already feel her muscles tensing, her heartbeat undulating a bit faster, gathering speed every second she kept herself out of the open, crouched underneath the lower windowsill of the church and looking outward onto the empty passage. Her route towards the library now seemed further than imagined. [i]This could either end two ways. One....The mudak could draw his pistol and get a good shot off me. Or two....I make it.[/i] Still she questioned the German's accuracy with his suspected Mauser, but also...she deeply questioned whether or not she dared to venture out of the church.

But she realized something, Nadiya. She had...grenades...two of them, and she hasn't thought of any purpose for them other than...suppression. She could make it to the library, or at least that side-alley, now she was sure, reaching into the pouch on her hip and clutching the grenade tight. It would only give her a slight margin of time, but that would be all she needed...hopefully. Slowly, her hand reached for the pin as her eyes focused again on her target, or rather the cover he hid behind still. Then, with a swift maneuver, she jerked the pin away and tossed the F1 as far as she could to the bastard Jerry, already taking to her feet in a dead run for the alley.