Pyotr's already stone face froze even more as he heard the report. Crouching in the snow he absently gnawed on his gloved knuckle thinking about their options. He didn't answer and from his silence it was apparent he did not know the layout of the city. In fact, there was nothing about this that was expected. His face turned the color of the snow he crouched on as a thought crossed his mind. He stood, color returning to his face, but now blushing anger. And the final conclusion, perhaps a stretch, fell out of his mouth like marbles from a sack, "Those men were not KGB, they are traitors."