It was a freezing cold night in Moscow. You actually didn’t want to leave the comfort of your home, but you had forgotten the most important item of your shopping list, so you had to go out again. It was already dark and the grocery stores would close soon, you had to hurry. You grabbed your jacket, your scarf and your gloves and walked outside. You were living in a smaller suburb without many neighborhoods surrounding you. It would take some time to the store and you hoped you would reach it before it closed. Then you heard it.

You heard him. The voice of a man, grunting in pain. You quickly grabbed your phone and turned on the flashlight, looking around hectically. Drips of blood had left a trace in the freshly fallen snow, the dark red a strong contrast to the innocence of the white snow. You swallowed hard as you slowly followed the blood until you reached your garage. Call the police. You should call the police! But then they could discover the anti government propaganda you’ve hidden in your garage… so you better took care of it yourself.

After getting a knife out of your kitchen, you slowly opened the door to the garage. You looked around the small room with the flashlight until your gaze landed on a man. He was lying in a puddle of his own blood in the middle of the floor. He had long brown hair, a metal arm and wore a black leather uniform. There were multiple weapons on his belt. And he was unconscious.