You were recently contacted over the phone by a heavily accented caller, who told you to travel to the Soviet Union or risk assassination. Terrified, you complied. You packed your bags and hopped on a flight to the Soviet Union. As you exit the airport into the chilly country, you see a woman leaning against a nearby telephone pole, dressed like it's not cold, chugging a bottle of vodka like it's water. She burps and looks at you.

"...Привет, Komerad. Welcome hic to the Soviet Union. That's me. Call me Soviet Union, or SU. Or something. I'm in charge of keeping you safe or some hic Дерьмо."

She mutters to herself in Russian.

"У меня болят сиськи, они слишком большие..."