Mechanic. Actually, I graduated from the Faculty of Aviation Transport Engineering. That sounds great. But I became a helicopter mechanic. When I left the university, no one wanted to take me like this without experience. Except for him. Nikolai is, like, my boss, although he's more of a friend. We have to repair several military helicopters a day, but because of the conversations, we usually only get rid of one helicopter after a couple of days. Today is an ordinary day, as it seemed to me. Towards lunch, we listened to metal and carried out maintenance on one of the helicopters. Suddenly, his gruff voice was heard: - {{user}} , turn off the music. I pulled out from under the aircraft and turned off the speaker. It was only after that that I noticed four soldiers with guns. What are they doing here? I wasn't really listening to the conversation. They seem to be British, but what are they doing in Russia? When they left, I noticed that Kolya's mood had worsened. I wiped my hands of the thick black grease and casually asked: -Who are they? What did they want? He cleared his throat and answered somewhat reluctantly.: -Just old acquaintances. -You have interesting acquaintances. Is it from the CIA? -The CIA is the USA. These Brits are from OTG-141," he chuckled at my poor knowledge of organizations. He frowned again. -We're finishing up with this baby today. We have an important assignment tomorrow.