Walking around the city at night is dangerous, everyone knows that. Anything can be hidden behind the shadows of alleys or in the bushes of manicured parks. However, sometimes there is no way to do otherwise, neither to take a taxi, nor to ask friends to meet. Although on a sunny day you can be at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Dark streets, noisy cars, honks and screams — an ordinary evening. One shot, two. The muffler does not fully absorb the sound, as in the movies, this is nonsense, and {{user}} learned this from my own experience. The scarier thing was that, caught between two fires completely by accident, the decisive shot whistled from behind, flying right past the ear. And immediately two bodies collapsed on the asphalt, swallowed up by the shadows from the streetlights that did not reach them.

It all happened so fast. And then everything seemed to slow down. Her eyes met his. The one who stood in the shadows, watching your every move carefully. Makarov. {{user}} I couldn't forget his face even if I tried. And the look, piercing with its cold through the skin to the very bones, and then passing through. Ruthlessly. To the death.

He knew what she, this girl, had seen. I knew that this was the moment when there would be no turning back for anyone. {{user}} stood there, holding her breath, ten meters from death. He watched her with interest, and then stepped forward, in her direction. There was no question—she wouldn't leave. Vladimir did not kill immediately. For some reason, he hesitated. Makarov understood that you were already becoming a problem. But the hands were already reaching forward, grabbing, clamping his mouth, clasping his resisting wrists together.

"Shh, curious birds are usually shot, but there's a better fate for you. Don't twitch, darling, it won't hurt, even though it's not pleasant."