“Kirich!”My friend had one hand on the door.“What?”“You should change that shirt.”He looked down at himself.“Otherwise, you'll end up at the first police checkpoint.”I pointed at the lettering.“Propaganda. Rehabilitation of Nazism. All that fun stuff.”A little spark of understanding appeared in Kirich's eyes.“Oh.”He nodded slowly.“Right.”Then his face twisted with indignation.“What a bastard! ‘Roman-Roman, take-take!’”Whatever that meant, apparently it was an adequate summary of the salesman who had sold him the shirt. Kirich started changing.I turned back to my resume. Where was I?Ah. More useless garbage.Achievements.Irrelevant.Nobody at a clothing store was going to care about my academic achievements.Successes at previous employment.Also irrelevant.The heroic exploits of an emergency medical technician weren't exactly going to impress a guy hiring someone to sell shoes.Phone number.Got it.Email.Got it.And somehow I also needed to figure out how to pay my

Russian Federation, Vladivostok — May 5, 2021The sun was shining. The grass was green. Spring had finally decided to show some mercy.It was the sort of beautiful day that automatically improved your mood. Even the depressing sight of a half-collapsed garage cooperative couldn't ruin mine.Honestly, life wasn't all that bad.You just had to survive your student years. Get into pathology residency. Earn an actual salary. Somehow make ends meet.Everyone had rough periods, right?All I had to do was keep going.I'd pass the project somehow. Then I'd have a nice, respectable oncology qualification under my belt. Evidence-based medicine was going well too, and I'd even managed to establish a pretty solid relationship with Antonina Vladimirovna.So, all things considered…Things were looking up.Then I noticed the Mercedes. A tall minivan was parked beside the garages. And it was moving. Swaying gently from side to side.I stared at it.People had completely lost their minds. They were pr

Vladivostok, Kosmonavtov Street, Building 78Well.I was screwed.I'd just finished talking to some guy on the phone who claimed he was a cop. Even I knew that wasn't how the police worked. They were supposed to identify themselves properly before starting an official conversation.That had been warning number one.Then, while the mysterious “police officer” was keeping me occupied, I heard Polina Nikolaevna's voice in the background.The dorm guard. Which meant they'd already been there.Warning number two.And then I heard another man's voice—an actual cop, apparently—talking to Polina Nikolaevna.Maybe he was the guy's partner.Maybe.But when you put all the pieces together, none of it made sense.So I hung up.Then I started calling 102.And for some reason, the calls kept getting disconnected.At that point, I was starting to feel—“102. What's the emergency?”Finally.“They're following me!” I blurted out.I practically shouted the whole story into the phone.“I was going to Fi

Vladivostok, Kosmonavtov Street, Building 78 — Same Time“What kind of idiot leaves the keys in the ignition?”Yuri was furious.“Bibikov, you fucking moron!”“Yura, everyone knows it's our car,” Artyom protested. “Nobody would dare steal it.”“Blah-blah-blah…”Yuri barely listened.While they'd been waiting for the car, they'd been watching Dushny's movements.Dushny.What a ridiculous surname. Yuri could already imagine the nickname the guy must have had among his classmates. Dushnoy. Dushila.Something along those lines. But none of that mattered now. Dushny had reached Fort No. 1.And he'd stayed there.Yuri looked up as a black Land Cruiser pulled into view.“Okay.”He straightened. “Everybody move.”Fort No. 1“What is this place?”I stared through the windshield.The concrete structure that supposedly passed for Fort No. 1 looked abandoned. No guards. No tourists. No lights.Nothing.I drove onto the grounds without any trouble and parked in what looked like a makeshift parki

She examined the lighter first, sniffed it, frowned, and tossed it aside without a second thought. The cash interested her much more.She held up a fifty-ruble note, studying the statue on the front before turning it over to inspect the building on the back with almost scholarly curiosity.Then she picked up the hundred.A faint smile crossed her face when she noticed the quadriga. She casually threw it onto the floor.Hey.That was half my money.The cigarettes earned another curious sniff, but apparently tobacco wasn't nearly as fascinating as Russian currency.Unsatisfied, she frisked me again.Her fingers found the pendant hanging beneath my shirt."Aha!"Her face lit up. Now that had her attention.She pulled the pendant free and examined it from every angle before figuring out the screw clasp. A moment later, she slipped it around her own neck.Then she smiled Right at me. I had absolutely no idea what that meant.Was this some kind of dominance display?Fine. Take the necklace.