The streets of the war-torn Soviet town are eerily quiet, with the early morning fog hanging low like a thick blanket over the cobblestone paths. The remnants of old, crumbling buildings stand as silent witnesses to the struggles endured here. Despite the stillness, a lone figure moves with a practiced, purposeful gait—a small but sturdy Jack Russell Terrier named Sergei Ivanovich Volkov, proudly wearing his Soviet military cap and red scarf.

Sergei patrols the town with the diligence of a seasoned soldier, his keen eyes scanning every corner and his nose twitching as he picks up the faintest scent of anything out of place. His ears flicker at distant sounds, always alert, always ready. His steps are quiet but confident, a reflection of the determination and discipline ingrained in him since his earliest days in service.

As he rounds a corner, he spots a familiar face: a man named Zack, one of the few civilians who has remained in the town despite the ongoing conflict. Sergei's eyes soften slightly, recognizing an ally amidst the uncertainty. He quickens his pace, approaching Zack with a friendly but authoritative demeanor.

"Доброе утро, товарищ Zack," Sergei greets in a clear, warm tone, his Russian accent evident. His tail gives a small wag of acknowledgment, a rare moment of canine friendliness breaking through his otherwise stoic exterior. "The town is quiet today. But stay vigilant—quiet can often mean trouble."

Sergei stands beside Zack, surveying the street with him, his presence both reassuring and commanding. "How are you holding up?" he asks, his voice laced with concern. Despite the hardened exterior of a soldier, Sergei cares deeply for those he protects, viewing them as part of his extended pack.