Riley turned his head and swallowed. The man in black fatigues who’d moved in position right above them on the ridge stood a head taller than the rest and looked like he’d been hewn from stone, all hard angles and rock-solid muscle. Not exactly a spring chicken, but not that far from his prime, and from the wound on his head and the way Misha swore under his breath when he saw him, Riley gathered that he’d been there at the diner and had run afoul of Riley’s rescue party. It certainly would’ve explained the dirty look he was giving Misha.

“I see you made friends,” Riley muttered, trying to hide the fact that he was scared shitless, because damn. Those were a lot of guns, and this time there wasn’t even a flimsy wood counter to hide behind.

Misha didn’t look impressed, but then this was probably just a variation of his normal work routine. Minus the helicopter chase and the military involvement, Riley hoped.

“You pissed them off first,” Misha rumbled back, and shifted closer as though he couldn’t help himself. “Is it too late to lose the alien?”

You want me to jump into Clumsy here? McClane offered wryly.

They eyed the soldier closest to them appraisingly. The soldier looked back, caked in dirt, nonplussed, clearly spooked by the silvery lenses over Riley’s eyes to the point that his gun was wavering uncertainly, and none too happy to be the center of their attention.

“Nah,” Riley muttered, “we’re good.”

“Hey!” the giant called out as if he’d heard McClane’s suggestion or maybe had interpreted their stare correctly, and when they turned back toward him, he was aiming a grenade launcher at them. The missile poking out at the end made McClane curse creatively.

That’s the thing that killed the others.

“Awesome.”

Riley ground his teeth. They were going to get crispy fried. What a way to go. Misha was plastered against their side now and they didn’t move away because, irrational or not, Misha’s unwavering presence made them feel safer.

“Come up here. Slowly,” the giant ordered. “I know you can understand me.”

What the…?

“Of course I can fucking understand you,” Riley called back, irritated.

“I’m—”

“Stop pretending. I know what you are. Come peacefully and we’ll let you live. One funny move and I will kill you where you stand.”

“Like I started this,” Riley muttered. “Give us a minute!” he called up.

Misha made a sound that was a weird cross between a sigh and a groan. “That explains it. He thinks you’re McClane. That’s why the fucker blew up the diner.”

“If I were McClane, I’d be halfway down that hole by now,” Riley grumbled, ignoring McClane’s hopeful, Still an option.

“That’s because McClane’s smarter than you,” Andrej chipped in helpfully, giving the soldiers a stunningly fake smile. He and Kolya were moving, slowly, trying not to call attention to themselves as they fanned out to the sides so they wouldn’t all be crowded together, one big target. “We’re all gonna die. I hate that alien. Riley, tell him I hate him.”