Newfound recognition

“Tatya is a killer!” Artyom yells out. “You should have seen it!”

“She got two of them!” He continues praising me. “She blew them away!”

“Good work!” Somebody yells.

“Ura!” Another yells.

My comrades cheer for me and pat me on the back. Being the center of attention isn’t easy. I’m having a hard time even believing what I’ve just done.

“What did you feel when you shot them?” Zakharov asks me.

I stop for a second to think.

“Recoil.” I say bluntly. My comrades roar with laughter.

“We’re all proud of you.” Dadonov tells me.

Smirnov stands quietly to the side, scowling. Dadonov approaches me as the crowd disperses.

“You keep fighting like that with your head sticking up, and you won’t have it for long.” He tells me. “Sometimes I have a hard time telling if you’re brave or if you’re stupid.”

“Stupid.” Smirnov chimes in. “Not that there is much difference.”

“Why are you so upset, Smirnov?” I ask. “Did I get more than you?”

“You got lucky.” He growls.

“You two cut the shit.” Dadonov orders. “We still have work to do.”