Spoiler (Move your mouse to the spoiler area to reveal the content) Show Spoiler Hide Spoiler One month later, tomorrow. Makar Lazarich Nastarov didn't rush. One, it was doable, but hard to run in all of his equipment, and two, he didn't want to seem too eager to leave. He liked Belorusskaya, it always kept him busy with its livestock falling ill every single day. But now it was the time for a change; also, some people could get mad for noticing he killed a pig or two on purpose and stole the meat for his personal provisions. But that wasn't important - he just did what he had to, didn't he? When he reached the spot that Dimitri - the head of Managers - told him and the four other people to visit before leaving, he looked around. With his gas mask off, his grey eyes scanned his surroundings, but there was nothing out of ordinary. Someone was getting his spleen kicked out of his body a few meters ahead; a prostitute waved to Makar and he waved back to her (what a lovely lady, nearly no scabs on her face); a huge man stood right next to him.. Nastarov fought the need to jump away. Dimitri, seeing that, snickered, but that wasn't a nice sound at all. "Feelin' a little jumpy, Nastarov? Shittin' your pants already, Swine Doctor?" he mocked, crossing his arms on his wide chest. Although he wasn't fat - hardly anyone was these days - his figure reminded Makar of a bear. "The term is 'veterinarian'" he responded calmly, putting his backpack down on the ground. "'The term is veterinarian''" repeated Dimitri and spat on the ground. "You're lucky Oleg didn't kill you for what you did a week ago." "I DID help him" protested Makar and Dimitri snickered once more. "Da. It was the slap on his butt cheek that fucked with him. Have you seen anyone else?" "No." "Blyat! Fine, we'll wait. I'm not goin' to repeat everythin' to every single person that decides to bring his ass here." Makar didn't respond. As he saw it, talking with Dimitri was unnecessary - Manager always tried to make fun of people, simply because he could. Killing him, eh!, even hitting his jaw was pretty much impossible, well, at least when you didn't want to have whole Belorusskaya trying to murder your ass. The man sat on his backpack and tapped his fingers against his knee. "Once upon a time there was a tavern.." Nastarov hid his face in his hands. Now he was singing. Another reason to get out of that station as soon as possible..