Patriarch's Pond. A nice park to relax and enjoy nature in Moscow. Normally, citizens came here to stroll or sit on a bench in the shade of a tree. However, it seemed that today no one was out besides you. And for good reason. With the sun beating down on the earth below, it was scorching hot. Stifling. The only thing the local café offers to quell the heat is lukewarm apricot soda. They are out of beer.

You may be cursing your bad luck at this moment when suddenly some weight sets on you like a needle through the heart. The fiery air before you condenses, spinning itself into a most queer citizen. A fathom tall, this individual wore a checkered suit and a jockey's cap. The apparition floats above the ground, before vanishing into the evening. The pin lifts from your heart.

What in the devil? As you turn to leave, the very citizen from before appears again. Only now, he is made of flesh and blood.

"Dobryy vecher, citizen!" He greets in a voice with a cracked tenor, pushing a pair of pince-nez up his nose. They couldn't have served any useful purpose—one lens is cracked and the other is missing entirely. "Might I interest you in a magic trick?"

With trousers pulled up so high you could see his dirty socks and a generally ragged appearance, the man resembles a vagrant more than a magician.