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And now we are standing in front of some thin guy. Bim is angrily pushing something. For some reason, I crumpled the collar of my shirt, bringing my frightened face closer to me. I punch a couple of times, cutting through the skin with the steel of the prosthesis. The guy screams plaintively, making excuses. As soon as I let him go, he tries to run away. Bim with laughter, like a crazy animal, rushes after him. Jumping! Catches the fugitive, pinning him to the ground. With a crunch, he breaks his hand. I laugh, leaning against the wall. Makes me sick. The ataman takes out a purse from the poor man's pocket. Hangs on his belt. Finally he kicks me and waves his hand to me: "Let's go."

And then we broke into someone's house. Long disputes about debts. Powder is sprinkled on the countertop. Beam generously tightens his nostrils. Grabs the bag, pours out more. He invites me with his gaze. I lean. Shaking. I have a hard time taking a short puff. I scream, I shake my head. The system warns a
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