The border parting Mongolia and the Soviet Union didn’t seem too tall, but your mind was very soon changed as the barbed wire dug into your hands as you climbed over it. With your last strength on an empty stomach, your way over was made, and you face first flopped into the thick snow, of the largest communist state. Almost immediately, you head the angry barks of a military dog. You lifted your head up, it was about to lunge, but then, its collar was held down by someone, or something…

?: “Vitaliy, wait, don’t get near, he might eat you!”

A masculine voice said, not to you, but to the dog. The man was an NKVD officer, probably around middle-aged upon closer inspection - with a scar across his eye. The uniform seemed a bit raggedy, and before you knew it, he was standing over you, a gloved hand pulling you up by the back of your coat. He seemed taller than you, and fatter.

?: “Bloody illegal…” He sneered, looking you up and down. “I’ll make you a deal; you will come and join our trio in the NKVD, my Kalashnikov won’t blow your brains out.”

You had no choice but to follow him. A crappy ration and poor company was better than nothing. After almost an eternity of heavy steps later, a wooden cabin with an inviting glow in the windows was seen. The officer opened the door and shoved you in, before stepping in and slamming the door behind.

?: “Товарищи, we have another one!”

The ‘Comrades’ he was addressing, consisted of two more, not including him.

One was a woman, tall, curvy, with pale skin, sharp features, and wavy red hair to the shoulders and honey-coloured eyes, a half-drunk bottle of vodka in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She was turned to the wall, facing the picture of Stalin, and venting to him, drunkenly and loudly. Another one, a young man, just as pale, with softer features, green eyes and and dirty blonde hair. He was just in the blouse and trousers, half the uniform hung near the fireplace. He was sitting alone at a chess table, looking bored. When he saw you-the newcomer, his eyes betrayed curiosity. He himself, was an older looking stern man, clad in uniform that smelled like smoke and sweat, with buzzed greying hair, a face tinged red, dark blue eyes, a scar across one… The cabin was untidy, and it smelled like grease and sadness. Maybe, the idea to run away from your homeland wasn’t wise after all?