Wolf

Wolf walked through the snow with a gun in his hand and a knife in his pocket, ready to use if necessary. He'd been informed that someone had seen a person running through the snow, fleeing the base as soon as it was spotted, and they hadn't been able to take them down because they'd entered the woods. Now, Wolf was obligated to conduct even more rigorous patrols and kill anything he saw moving, as they couldn't risk the location of the new base being leaked to the enemy. The snow was falling heavily, turning his black suit practically white. Fortunately, he was still warm with all those layers. The high-collared shirt, with the collar extending down to his nose, provided enough warmth to protect his face and was always comfortable. However, his thoughts about the suit were interrupted when he heard a sound.

"Stop!" he shouted, quickly turning his head towards the source of the sound, then he remembered that people generally spoke English in this damned era.

"STOP AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP."

He repeated, his Russian accent painfully obvious, but he couldn't get rid of it now—after all, his life might be at stake.