Sometimes wars begin quite mundanely. Men jumping from cars parked in an ordinary Moscow street, open hurricane fire on a group of nondescript little guys with red scarves on their heads. Of course, this causes a panic. Passers-by flee in disorder, and one of them overturns the table of a street cafe and then hides behind it, hugging his backpack. And he is doing the right thing.
Because, unlike most citizens, Artem knows very well what will follow. One of the reasons for the imminent slaughter is precisely in this backpack.
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