It had been going relatively well, given the situation. Edgar even agreed to the terms without any discussion. She was looking forward to a bit of rest and a meal. And then they get booted into the rain. Wishful thinking, it was still as hot and dry as ever. And she still had no idea what that superstitious drivel was all about. [i]“Yobannyy kusok chlena…”[/i] Yekaterina muttered incredulously with a shake of her head. She didn’t quite fancy raiding Melani’s pantry, worried it would turn out to contain the last guy who pissed her off. Worst of all it probably wasn’t even outside the realm of possibility with that broad. Military food rations were added to the wishlist. Some of the only food around they could be sure was safe to eat, not to mention other usual contents of MREs like coffee, water purification tablets and tissues.

“You want it, don’t you?” She jested, chambering a round and unfolding the stock of her AKS as Sean spoke of Melani’s machete. It was a good point though, bringing a whole body would be impractical and the odds of finding a working camera along the way looked slim. At least Victor and his skull crackers were pretty much guaranteed to be far gone, almost certainly hidden behind layers of reinforced concrete, mercs and razor wire. Not that she would mind an easy chance to crack him over the head with a brick if the opportunity presented itself. One day, perhaps.

Although they were headed back into the lion’s mouth, she still liked their chances. Urban combat was nasty, yes, but the same things that disadvantaged them also plagued the other side, and while the locals had quantity on their side, they had quality. They weren’t the only westerners in the country, true, but she’d expect most of those to be scooped up by the companies and not wasted on what was, by the looks of it, a proxy war using local gangs. More likely they were on alert to protect actual company assets from said proxy war. “One decently set up machine gun nest and they’ll turn the car into a sieve. The Hilux might survive that, us not so much. You think they’d buy that we’re journalists with escort or some such line of bull, or is that wasted effort?” Yekaterina wondered. And speaking of the Hilux…

She walked around the car, seemingly scrutinizing every square inch, “Not a bad catch. Not much rust, tires even and not too worn. Front brakes could use replacing. Nothing visibly wrong with the front springs and shock absorbers. Could steal a bed cap from another one if we find one…” The Russian reached down the driver’s footwell when Sean opened the door to pop the hood, “Battery even looks new-ish. Winch battery is missing though. Ah, well, you can’t win them all.”