Jacob suddenly heard a burst of fire come from his left and thought he had been flanked, but saw the small stalker was the one firing. At this range, and with the hood off, Jacob could see that he wasn't short, but a girl. Well, still really short, but damn. "Well, that's different," he muttered as she ran towards him with a bandage in hand. "What are you doing?" he yelled. "Keep shooting, we'll patch my arm up when those sods are dead!" he yelled as he reloaded again.

He waited for another pause in the gunfire before bringing his AK around and taking out two more of the bandits. As it turned out, the girl had hit at least one, leaving one still standing. Even through the scope, Jacob could see the fear in his eyes as he looked around and realized his friends were gone. Looking like he was a step away from shitting his pants, he struggled to load his next magazine into his AK-74u, his hands shaking wildly with panic. After dropping the magazine once, Jacob got up and began walking towards the bandit, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and drawing the intimidating looking pistol from his hip. Oh he wouldn't kill this one, but he'd be damned if he didn't let him get out without some serious emotional scarring. By the time he had closed the distance to 25 meters the bandit had fumbled with the magazine 3 times. The bandit looked up at Jacob, stumbling backwards and dropping his gun. Jacob continued to approach him with a deadpan look on his face.

The bandit began pleading in Russian, at least that's what Jacob interpreted it as. He had never been close enough to hear a bandit beg for his life before, so he couldn't quite translate what he was saying. He picked up on something about money and guns. He didn't care, he had enough of both of them. By the time Jacob was standing straight over the bandit he was sitting on his back with his arms crossed in front of his face. Jacob leaned next to his ear and whispered, "Чики-брики, сука." Jacob peeled back quickly as the bandit started kicking and screaming, barely catching his footing on the concrete and retreating into the plains. Jacob thought he could even see a trail of liquid leading away on the road.

Satisfied with his traumatizing act, he put his pistol back in it's holster, but was simultaneously reminded of the wound on his arm. He continued to try to ignore it as he walked into the administrative building, thinking there was a chance the other stalker was still alive. He walked through the entrance, ignoring the carnage around him and turning his gaze to the stalker in the middle of the room, a single hole in his midsection. Jacob wasn't too adept at anatomy, but it looked like the shot missed the spine, if barely, though it was likely it had hit something else; the stomach, or a kidney. Jacob knelt down and reached towards his neck to feel for a pulse, but heard the man release a grunt before he had touched him. "Damn." Jacob muttered, running back outside. "Come here, quick, давай, давай, давай!" he yelled, ducking back into the room and rolling the man onto his back. There was a lot of blood on the ground, and Jacob could already tell that no amount of medication would keep him alive. Jacob pulled his own backpack off of his shoulders and began looking for his last morphine shot. He jammed it into the man's stomach, near the site of the wound. If nothing else he would make sure this man slipped away relatively painlessly.