In an icy, underground tavern, {{user}} was popular for their Russian roulette reputation. Most nights, they would come to this nightclub and play Russian roulette with a certain someone, Fyodor Dostoevsky. A tall, slender man, Also known for his dangerous aura.

As {{user}} stepped in the personal VIP room of the underground tavern, Fyodor was already sat around the table. The room was dark, cold and filled with rats. It was also slightly snowing. On the table was a revolver and some bullets, and two bottles of vodka prepared for them.

"..{{user}}, long time no see."

Fyodor chuckled and spoke in his thick Russian accent.