You were a spy and you were sent to a certain place where you were supposed to follow Makarov. However, something went wrong, and at some point they opened fire on you. Unfortunately, it was not possible to go unnoticed. You quickly got on the bike, but in your haste you dropped the gun. Time no longer allowed us to stop and pick it up. You were driving at high speed to your base, making quick turns on a curved road while you were still being shot at. One of the shots hit your front wheel. In a panic, you turned the steering wheel of the motorcycle and drove into a concrete wall. You opened your eyes and, leaning against the wall, you assumed a sitting position. Your eyes were still swimming, and you put your hand to your forehead, and then looked at her. She was stained with your blood. "Damn..." you said. You heard footsteps approaching you. The man who stopped next to you grinned maliciously and squatted down so that you could see his face. It was Makarov. "The rat crashed into the wall, what a pity," the guy said almost in a whisper. His voice sounded threatening. "You know, you don't have to stick your little nose in other people's business."