"Heh, the Cook has some skill, but not enough brains. It's not that I want to disparage him, but he's truly stupid. Even my Gorbachev is smarter than him."
Thunderstone scoffed in disdain. He pulled out his phone, opened VK, tapped a video, and held it out to Chen Ge.
In the video, Prigozhin was giving a public speech, announcing that last night's offensive, codenamed "Operation Late-Night Snack" and centered around capturing the Klishchiivka Heights, had been a complete success. He claimed that within half a month at most, they would complete the encirclement of the southern wing of Bakhmut. Between the lines, he was boasting relentlessly while taking potshots at the regular Russian military.
Chen Ge had already watched it right after leaving the hotel. He, Big Bear, Lightbulb, Manhole Cover, and Night Cat had all felt their spines go cold and their scalps tingle. They had pulled their masks up tight, warily watching every Russian patrol they encountered along the street, worried the regulars might give them a hard time—or even put a bullet in their backs.
Damn it, you got to show off and stroke your ego, but did you ever spare a thought for whether your men live or die?
After a moment of silence, Chen Ge let out a helpless sigh.
"The relationship between Wagner and the regulars is delicate enough as it is. The boss shouldn't be grandstanding like this."
Thunderstone leaned back against his chair and said solemnly, "My advice is not to renew your contract. The Cook is bound to run into trouble sooner or later. Wagner's fate will either be getting carved up and absorbed, or disbanded entirely. Personally, I think absorption is more likely."
A flicker of surprise showed in Chen Ge's eyes. The old man had actually foreseen that Prigozhin was courting his own death too?
"Old bro, could you tell me—are you running this hardware store yourself, or...?"
Thunderstone grinned, showing a set of reasonably neat teeth.
"Anyone running a hardware business inside Russia—not a single one is private!"
Chen Ge caught on instantly. He took out his phone and opened Telegram.
Telegram, abbreviated as TG, was the globally renowned encrypted messaging app known colloquially in Chinese circles as Dianbao.
An encrypted platform capable of hosting two-hundred-thousand-member supergroups and transferring two-gigabyte files, Telegram was where the Wagner company group, the Ratibor detachment group, and the Falcon Hunting Team group all lived.
Chen Ge, however, preferred its sibling app, VK. A Russian hybrid of Facebook, WeChat, and Douyin, VK was the top social platform in the Russian-speaking world; you could watch videos and chat without switching apps, making it far more convenient.
"Let's exchange contacts. In the future, I might look to buy goods from you while abroad."
Thunderstone grasped Chen Ge's meaning right away as well. With a warm smile, he added Chen Ge on Telegram and set his contact name to Kostya.
"I've got plenty of acquaintances in the Russian military. If you ever run into trouble, feel free to reach out to me."
Chen Ge looked at him with mild surprise. "Why?"
"Because you're strong. Even though the nature of warfare has completely changed and individual valor has been drastically diminished, you're different. You're an extraordinary man, and I like making friends with people like you."
Thunderstone was telling the truth. Joining the KGB at seventeen, he had risen step by step from a trainee intelligence officer to a colonel and department director in the First Chief Directorate through talent and diligence. Naturally, his eye for people was beyond anything an ordinary person could match.
Chen Ge gave him a unique impression: confident without being arrogant, and possessing a sober, grounded confidence.
What was sober confidence?
Possessing formidable strength yet maintaining a deep reverence for the ways of the world; mild-tempered and reserved, confident without complacency, conscious of strengths and weaknesses, aware of boundaries, steady without being reckless.
A person with that kind of temperament was bound to make great achievements in the future.
Befriending Chen Ge was like investing in a stock. If the stock appreciated, he made a profit.
If it didn't, no harm done—at most, he earned a little less money and owed a few favors to old friends.
"You flatter me, old bro. My talent is only slightly better than average."
Naturally, Chen Ge wasn't going to turn down a friendship with a retired intelligence veteran possessing vast connections and deep underground channels.
Another friend meant another path. Building a good rapport with Thunderstone, if nothing else, would at least save money on weapons and gear.
"Old bro, if there's anything you ever need help with, don't treat me like a stranger. As long as it's within my ability, I'll do everything I can."
Thunderstone stroked his full white beard, his ruddy face beaming with a grin.
"Good! Once you're done shopping, dinner's on me. Kostya, you can hold your liquor, right?"
"My limit's a jin. But drinking with you... I'll give it everything I've got!"
Chen Ge's answer suited Thunderstone's taste perfectly. His grin widened, his beard twitching happily.
"Haha, go pick out what you like! I can't wait to drink with you."
Chen Ge gave an OK sign, got to his feet, and continued browsing the supermarket.
Walking back to his shopping cart, he glanced over at the machine-gun rack nearby. Big Bear was cradling an HK121, caressing it gently and puckering up to kiss it every couple of seconds. Chen Ge's eyes throbbed.
He couldn't help it—the sight was an absolute assault on the eyes!
"Brother, please stop sexually harassing that machine gun. If it could talk, it'd definitely call the police on you."
Big Bear scratched his head in embarrassment and gave a goofy chuckle. "Hammer Brother, I want it..."
"No, you don't. Ammo resupply is a pain. Stick to machine guns that chamber Mosin rounds like a good boy!"
Chen Ge walked over and patted the PKP machine gun beside them.
"The PKP is great, and you won't have to pay for it out of pocket. I'll ask Trench to issue you one."
Big Bear let out an "oh," reluctantly put the HK121 back, and immediately picked up an HK21.
"If only the Russian military used NATO ammo too. I really love HK guns!"
Chen Ge rolled his eyes. Well, obviously. Who didn't?
Since his transmigration, he had tested the world's top firearms under real combat conditions. In terms of overall performance, the best were the HK416A7, the AK-12, the SCAR-H, and the X95.
Unfortunately, on the current Russia-Ukraine battlefield, both sides still primarily relied on Soviet-standard ammunition. Next year, once NATO stepped up its aid to Ukraine and captured NATO rounds became plentiful, they could switch to weapons from HK, SIG, and FN.
...
Early the next morning.
In the large bed of room 511 at the hotel, Chen Ge was awakened by the sound of an explosion—and a very close one at that.
With an annoyed scowl, he sat up, ruffled his hair, rolled out of bed, and walked over to the window. Drawing the curtains and looking westward, he saw that the middle floors of a building roughly five hundred meters away in a direct line had been blown apart. Fire flared into the sky, thick smoke billowed, and fire engines had already arrived, deploying water hoses to battle the flames.
Judging by the extent of the damage, it was clearly the work of a Ukrainian drone. A rocket launcher or artillery strike wouldn't have been so small.
Chen Ge drew the curtains shut, yawned, picked up his phone, and headed into the bathroom to sit on the toilet.
Following his mutation, his energy had become extraordinarily boundless; he could sleep at most three hours a day before waking up completely unable to sleep any longer, without a trace of fatigue.
Being unable to sleep in was truly a nuisance.
Last night, Thunderstone had treated them to dinner. The six of them had drunk until two in the morning, gotten back to the hotel at three, and by the time Chen Ge showered and lay down, it was three-thirty. He had then chatted with that night owl Lin Xiyue until five, and now it was barely eight.
Ding. A Telegram notification chimed. Chen Ge unlocked his phone to look; it was a message in the Falcon Hunting Team group chat.
Trench: 2:00 PM, all hands assemble. Medals are being awarded!
Chen Ge closed the group chat and sent a private message to Trench.
"Got a headache. Requesting sick leave!"
Trench took a few minutes to reply.
"Faking sick too?"
Chen Ge: Too? What do you mean? Not me! You have to believe me!
Trench: Really? Seven people have already asked me for sick leave, and you're number eight! I didn't approve any of the others, but as for you... fine. If you don't want to go, don't go.
Chen Ge wasn't surprised. For regular Russian soldiers, receiving a medal was an honor. But most Wagner veterans felt no sense of belonging to the company, let alone any sense of honor; handing out bigger bonuses was far more practical.
Prigozhin's series of outrageous stunts yesterday had already thrust the Falcon Hunting Team into the eye of the storm. If Lin Xiyue hadn't stepped in to erase the intelligence files the Ukrainian forces had gathered, the Ukrainians would probably already be drafting operational plans to eliminate the Falcons.
For safety's sake, it was best to keep a low profile and avoid showing his face whenever possible.
Chapter 37