Mysterious Stranger

Valya was annoyed by Slava’s trick, although he understood that he was not doing it out of malice. Marat looked thoughtfully in Shirokov’s direction, trying to understand the reason for his behavior, and at the same time Slava’s behavior. They were both hiding something clearly. However, Khaidarov drew attention to Biryukov’s equally cunning look. Curiosity got the better of him and he decided to quietly whisper to him, asking. — Igor, what’s going on? Suddenly, Valya jumped up from his chair and ran out of the room. Makarov stared in his direction in amazement and followed him, worried about such a sudden break from the place. Igor giggled nastily. — Igor Vasilyevich, — Marat turned to him again, — What’s happening? — Marik, let me tell you a secret, okay? — Tell me… — He went to the bathroom to fix his banana in his pants! Hehehe! — …are you kidding me? Do you think he went to masturbate, but to whom? — Well, not at me, Marik! At you, of course! — At me…? Come on, don’t be silly.… Who would masturbate to an old man like me? — Well, you know… he’s already doing it, hehe! Didn’t you get it from Slavka’s behavior? He’s the devil in the pool! — Listen, of course, I’m certainly aware of the character of each of my loved ones, but… Slava just messes around, that’s all. And Valya… I don’t know, but maybe he got sick? — Deny it all you want, Marat. But, I have a question for you. And what do you think about Valya? — Well, he’s a good guy. Clumsy, really, but funny. I can tell you that you can trust him. — And if in terms of love? — Um… I haven’t really thought about that yet, Igor.… — But he’s head over heels in love with you, I think that’s where all this clumsiness comes from, — Biryukov grinned, looking towards the exit from the room. Marat just shrugged his shoulders. — I don’t think anyone would fall in love with someone like me… my temper won’t hold up, poor guy. And… who needs such a sick invalid?… — Come on, Marik, you forget about the bright side without these sores. Moreover, Valya agreed to help you. — I… well, let’s see, Igor… Meanwhile, Valentin was breathing heavily, locked in a toilet stall. Slava was standing outside, waiting for him to come out. — Val, are you alive there? You ran away so abruptly, I was even afraid for you, you know… — Everything is fine… — He-he! let the steam out of your pants, huh? — Fuck you! Ugh! What are you doing anyway?! — Valya sharply raised his voice while in the toilet, — Are you even thinking?! What the hell was that?! — God, Val… — Slava just rolled his eyes, shook his head and grinned, — And what else should I do with you when you’re ruining everything for yourself? By the fact that you’re stumbling over every word! Well, you’ve got a dick stand up, you’re horny, and what’s the problem? Just go masturbate quietly in the toilet, without panicking, without arousing suspicion, and that’s it. And you made a big show out of it, and you yelled at me, you silly. — Fuck, Makarov! Could you have warned me that you were a fucking devil in a pool?! — Nope. It was a surprise~ — Who are you according to the horoscope? Aquarius? I wish I could give you a punch! You’re a snake in your horoscope, not an aquarius! — Ha-ha! Snake, if according to the eastern horoscope — The snake is cunning! — Ah! How disappointing! Makarov said in a mock, joking tone, laughing at his friend’s grumbling, — Come on! By the way, how long are you going to fix your banana there? Or what do you prefer to call your penis? — …Eggplant — HAHAHAH… wait, what? — Makarov immediately froze, thinking, — Well… although yes, considering how it started to get up.… It’s not even a banana… it’s really an eggplant. — MAKAROV! Slava laughed again, continuing to troll Shirokov. He just grumbled something in response, but finally calmed down and left the booth, standing next to Slava, glaring at him, tapping his foot irritably. Slava looked at him, smiling innocently, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. — Well, that’s it, I give up, or you’ll shoot me with your eyes. Although… You’d better shoot Marat with your eyes! — God… Slava, sheh! — Valya shook his head, sighed, and crossed his arms over his chest. The two rookie lieutenants returned to the room where Igor and Marat were chatting. Together they decorated the department to the end. Abashev suddenly called Makarov to him. The latter looked at him questioningly, but approached the police captain. — What is San-Sanych? Sanych came right up to him, leaning over and whispering in his ear so that only Slava could hear. — Did Val really masturbate on Marat? Only honestly They both stared at each other, frozen. After that, sly smiles appeared on both of their faces, showing that they understood each other. — That’s what I thought, it was noticeable how he fidgeted in his chair and tucked his legs in —Hehe, yeah~ He’s in love!” That’s the only secret. — I got it, I’m not a fool! You’re offending the captain by thinking like that, — Abashev jokingly threatened, and then patted Slava on the shoulder, — Well, good luck helping this boy in love. — I can handle it! — And what about yourself on the love front? — Pfft… pure zero, — Makarov grinned, crossing his arms over his chest, and then looked at Valya, who was staring intently at his phone, — It seems he has problems… I’ll go find out. Slava approached Valya, who was standing to the side, closer to the exit from the room. Shirokov nervously tugged at the collar of his shirt, peering at the phone screen. — Val? Shirokov shuddered in surprise, he looked at Slava, then exhaled, relaxing. He hurriedly put his phone in his pants pocket and looked away. — Val? What happened? — Um… are you free today? — I don’t seem to be busy right now. Is Yura threatening you? — Something happened to the electricity in the house again… ahem… — Well, it’s not your fault, hello, you’re not even at home! — It doesn’t matter. Starting today, it seems like it’s time for me to become Gennady.… — Where are you going to put Valentine, smartass? — Makarov raised an eyebrow skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. — And Valentine’s not going anywhere, I’m not going to remove him completely, I’ll have to go to work. Valya suddenly drew attention to Abashev, who came up to Marat’s table, apparently holding a plastic bottle with some kind of drink in his hand. Shirokov narrowed his eyes, watching closely. — Iced tea, — Slava said, knowing what Valya was asking in his mind. Shirokov looked at him blankly. — Iced tea? In winter? — Valya looked on in disbelief as Marat gratefully accepted a bottle of iced tea from Abashev’s hands. — God, haven’t you ever had iced tea? — Slava smiled condescendingly, looking at his friend, shaking his head, — Actually, you can drink it at any time of the year. Marat smiled at Sanych with a grateful smile, putting his palm to his chest, as if he had hit the very heart. — Sanya. You’ve hit a sore spot. In a good way. Thank you, — Khaidarov said, unscrewing the lid and taking a sip. Valya quickly took out his secret notebook and scribbled something there. Slava noticed this too, grinning — Do you will remember what your object of adoration loves, hmm? — That’s right, — Shirokov confirmed, noting a separate point about Marat in his notebook, — This is for me and Gennady at the same time. — Isn’t it too noticeable? — It’s not noticeable. But it will be very romantic. — Pfft… romantic, by God, — Makarov gave him a friendly shove in the shoulder, and then he looked in the direction of a pleased Marat. — Well, gentlemen, go home? — Biryukov rubbed his hands together contentedly, — My back already hurts, and we’ve been stuck in the department for an extra hour. — Home, home, — Marat confirmed, and got up himself, still limping. Valya immediately went up to him, holding him by the shoulders. — Marat Ravilevich, can I take you home? Valentine suggested. — No need, Val, go to the hotel. Igor and I will manage today. — But I… — Valentin, don’t worry, — Khaidarov said in a calm tone, — Another time. Valya silently stared at Marat, who went to the exit. Is he offended by something? Or is it because of what happened last night? Why is he like this… It was still good… Does he still not trust Valya? — The old lion led his pride! Please come out! — Igor opened the door, allowing everyone to go ahead. Shirokov was upset that this time he would not be able to spend time with Marat, because Igor Vasilyevich would be with him, and Marat refused the opportunity to drive home in Valya’s car, telling him to go to his room. Slava put a comforting hand on Valya’s shoulder. — Come on, don’t worry. Maybe Marat is just not in a good mood this time? It happens to him, it doesn’t mean that he… — So I fucked up again. At night this time. I shouldn’t have picked him up.… — You… what?! — Slava choked on air, coughing slightly, — Okay, let’s go, we’ll talk outside.… Soon they got into Shirokov’s car, where the conversation continued. Valya looked longingly at Marat’s convertible, where Igor Vasilyevich was, they were discussing something violently together. — Apparently, not only because I picked him up… but also today.… I masturbated on him in the toilet… It seems like he thinks I’m a nasty pervert. — Val, for God’s sake! You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s okay! I’m telling you, he just might be out of sorts. That doesn’t mean he’s going to give up on you because you just touched him and… and masturbated on him, no matter how it sounds. — All right… Let’s go, I’ll take you home.… — Uh, wait a minute. Can we go to your hotel’s room? I don’t think we’re done talking. Valya looked at him in surprise, not expecting him to want to come to the hotel room as a guest. However, Shirokov agreed, almost without hesitation. He pressed the accelerator to the floor and they drove towards the hotel.

A few moments later...

— Val, I don’t even know what to call you, — Makarov sat in the car with a displeased face, glaring at Valentine, who was sitting at the wheel, smiling innocently, thrusting the keys to his apartment into his hands. They came to Vali’s house because someone had forgotten something. — I’m not going in there, you know. Especially NOW! — Yeah, of course you have to send me to see some shit, right? — At least you have a gun! — Where’s your gun?! — They haven’t given it to me yet — I wonder why, — Makarov chuckled, getting out of the car and cautiously looked around, — Damn, I managed to get in touch with such an idiot in love… okay, adventures are adventures. — Well i think, your Yurka won’t do anything to you, right? — Valentin smiled slightly, looking out of the car window, looking in the direction of Slava. He turned around, giving him an expressive look that said fuck you. — The main thing for me is that he doesn’t think that I’m you! — He hasn’t seen me yet, but he figured me out through the house chat and knows the apartment number… hehe… We’re neighbors.… — Cool, gorgeous, super, I don’t know how else to express my emotions, — Slava took the keys to Shirokov’s apartment out of his pocket, opened the front door and entered the entrance, climbing to the right floor and opened the apartment, going inside. He walked into the bedroom without taking off his shoes, quickly looking around, looking for what he needed. What was needed was a balaclava, which Valentin forgot to put in the Gennady set. — Stupid Val, damn it… And where is this balaclava? He was taking it out, where did he put it? — Slava was a little annoyed, because he was still worried that he would get hurt by his friend’s neighbors, including Yura. Although Yura wouldn’t have done anything, right? Slava wanted to have a perfect plan: He quietly enters Valentine’s apartment, takes what he needs, and also leaves unnoticed. The plan is perfect. Makarov took what he needed, left the apartment, began to lock it with a key, and immediately froze when he felt someone’s presence from behind. — What’s up, you walking troublemaker? So we met… because of you, the electricity went out again. My damn laptop burned down. THE SECOND ONE, DAMN IT! — An irritated and threatening tone was heard, — And you, bastard, will pay me for this. For two fucking expensive laptops, you half-baked bastard! Startled, Makarov did not even recognize whose low and threatening growling tone it was. He quickly put on a balaclava and abruptly turned around. Yura, who was that walking menace, jumped back in surprise, crashing his back into the wall and staring dumbfounded at the alleged bandit and thief in a balaclava. — Ah… I… uh…— Muzychenko was definitely confused at first, not expecting to run into a bandit, — I just… I was going to a neighbor’s house. I didn’t know what he had here.… The guests have already come to the costume party. Very cool costume, fire, super, I… can I go? Slava was stunned. And the fact that it was really Yura and the scene he made. Makarov didn’t move, he didn’t know if he should show his face to Yura or not. How will he react? It’s been a few years since they haven’t seen each other, well, they texted each other sometimes, yes. Muzychenko himself did not move, watching the robber intently, but one hand was behind his back and moved slightly, as if he was trying to find something there, a completely possible means of defense. (Yeah, a violin bow to stick in the ass of a bandit and get out. Yura is violinist) — So… — suddenly Yura took a knife out of his pocket, pointing it in Makarov’s direction, — You thought I was scared, right? Fuck you. I have my own training. Do you think that if I’m shorter than you, I won’t kill you?! Muzychenko growled threateningly and headed towards Slava, holding a knife at the ready. Makarov was a little taken aback, trying to figure out what to do, but he didn’t have to think long. — YURA! — Slava barked sharply, either from fright or for some other reason. Yura froze, dropping the knife from his hand with a loud clang of metal on the stone floor, which echoed through the entrance. He stared at the tall male figure in the balaclava, barely blinking at the same time. He looked into his eyes through the slits and took a couple of cautious steps forward. — Kuzya…?* — Muzychenko asked quietly, peering at him. Slava finally took off his balaclava, realizing that there was no point in hiding. Both of them felt deja vu at this moment. (*Kuzya is Slava’s nickname due to his participation in the show, than Yura hosted. That’s what only Yura calls him) —Well, hello, Yura, — Slava grinned awkwardly, putting the balaclava in his pocket and opening his arms to the sides. Yura immediately rushed to him, hugging him tightly. Makarov hugged him back, after all, they hadn’t seen each other in person for a long time. — What are you doing here? — They asked each other in unison, after which they looked at each other in surprise, realizing this synchronicity. — So… I don’t even know where to start here, Yura, hehe… — Slava still felt a little awkward, and then he saw Yura’s surprised look, which was directed at the pistol in the holster, — Ah, that’s… Yes… — And I already wanted to make a joke, but somehow I abruptly changed my mind, haha… — Yura grinned, feeling a little awkward. — I think I can guess exactly how. — Well, they say… very glad to see me, huh? — Yes, that’s what I thought. — I really hope that this balaclava and this pistol belong to the police. Very. hope, — Muzychenko slightly furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest, “Otherwise I do not know why you were in the apartment of a stupid neighbor across from mine. — Oh, that… Well, yes, Yura, I work for the police now. But you know what? I have questions for you too… — Slava frowned slightly, looking at Yura with a serious look, — What the hell are you doing in this fucking ass?! Why here?! — Uh… it’s a long story… — And I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere. You didn’t even tell me anything.… — Almost no one knows about it anyway.… — Almost? Then who knows? — Marat knows… — Marat knows. Sure. Couldn’t you tell me?! — I… I’ll explain everything to you later, I’m sorry… — Then when? — In five years?! Muzychenko awkwardly looked away, hugging his shoulders. Slava sighed, shaking his head. — You’re into something, aren’t you? And there’s an unexpected lull with your band.… — This is… It’s complicated. It’s not the easiest time in my life right now. I’ll really explain everything later, okay? — Or I’ll find out for myself, Yura. — No, no, no! I’d rather tell you myself… but not now.… —Tsk… okay, — Makarov chuckled, looking at him, —Promise me. — I promise… — Okay, Yura. Good. Of course, Slava couldn’t quite believe that Yura would actually tell him. Slava had his own plan in this regard. — See you later, Yura, I have to go. Business as workers — Of course, of course, Slava, come on… Makarov was about to leave, but immediately turned back to Yura, who looked definitely nervous. — You called me Slava…? You usually call me Kuzya… — Slava frowned, finding it strange, — Muzychenko, you will either really tell me the truth later, or I will find out everything myself. — It’s okay, Kuzya! We’ll meet again later, talk, come on, run, they’re waiting for you there.… — Hmm… okay. Bye, Yura, — Makarov went down the stairs, frowning with concern. He came out of the entrance, clutching the balaclava irritably in his hand, heading for the car where Valya was waiting. Finally, he came and sat inside, slamming the door irritably. Valya was already jerked by the sharp knocking of the car door — Hey! It’s not your car to slam the door like that! — Shirokov was indignant, frowning, but then his gaze softened, noticing that Slava was not in the best condition, — Slava, what happened? Is it… because of me? Makarov sat in the car with his arms crossed over his chest and was silent, frowning ahead at the front door of Valya’s house, from where he had just come out. Shirokov felt guilty, seeing how angry his friend and colleague was sitting. — Slava… don’t be silent, at least please, if necessary, then scold me. Just tell me, what happened? Slava remained silent, not moving in his place or even blinking. This made Valya even more nervous. He decided to look in the direction where Makarov was looking. — You… you got hurt by my neighbors, didn’t you…? — Valya did not let up, his conscience gnawed at his empty head, because of the forgotten balaclava for disguise. Slava was silent, frowning, sitting in a closed position, and it scared him. Meanwhile, Yura came out of the front door, looked around cautiously, checked something in his jacket pockets, suddenly took the scarf off his neck, put it in an inner pocket and went around the corner of the house. — Where is he going…? — Shirokov asked. Makarov got out of the car and headed in that direction. Valya got out of the car and followed him, — Where are we going? — Yura has problems, — Makarov said in a harsh tone, pulling a pistol from his holster and walking around the corner exactly following Muzychenko’s footsteps in the snow. — He took off his scarf for a reason, too. He is afraid that the person he went to meet will strangle him with this scarf. — How do you know that? You never know what’s going on in Muzychenko’s head. Slava suddenly grabbed Valya by the collar of his jacket, almost slamming him into the wall of the house, angry at this statement. Meanwhile, Muzychenko stopped nearby and started chatting with someone on the phone. — Do you think I don’t know him well? Do you think I didn’t notice his nervousness? Do you think I’m blind? Or do you think that all I know how to do is stand on stage, smile at the camera and blablabla into the microphone?! Do you think I can only sing and dance?! — Damn, Slava, calm down…I’m sorry, how did I know that you would react this way to my statement about him… — Well, be kind, Val, shut your fucking mouth and stop thinking so badly about Yura! — Slava snorted irritably, releasing him and following his footsteps. Stunned, Shirokov stood for a while, trying to come to his senses, then followed Makarov, — And stop being biased against me. Just because I was a sweet, good-natured entertainment show host doesn’t mean I can’t just punch someone! It doesn’t mean that I’m always kind and can’t bark so that the walls will shake! Don’t. anger. me. better. It’s going to be bad. — Yes, I understand, I understand, I’m sorry… — Valya definitely did not expect such a sharp attack from Slava. Makarov himself was just very worried and nervous, fearing for the life of Yura, who was definitely into something and needed to be rescued. Soon they entered the garage area behind the house, but they lost sight of Yura, as he managed to turn into this maze several times. — Fuck! — Slava swore, angrily kicking the door of one of the garages, — What the hell! Grr… and where is he?! — Hush, calm down. We’ll find him. I think he went there, — Valya looked in one direction, pointing with his hand. Slava frowned, shaking his head. — It seems… But I’m not sure, Val, there are a lot of footprints here, as it turned out! — So we need to find his shoe prints among all these… — Hmm… It has a grooved sole, so there are such footprints here too.… So, well, according to the shoe size… It seems like it should be. Oh… Marat would have immediately identified Yura among these footprints.… So what should I think now? His father obviously doesn’t know… — Wait a minute. If he has problems, then it is logical that he will not talk about it. Especially if he’s being threatened. You know that. Classic. — Yeah… He seems to be in real danger if he carries a folding knife in his pocket for self-defense. He was scared when he saw me in a balaclava, but then he became emboldened when he concentrated… — Makarov noticed Shirokov’s puzzled look at himself with the mute question “fuck did you put it on?” — Don’t even ask — Yeah, — Valya chuckled, shaking his head. Suddenly, he heard the eerie creak of an old garage door from afar. — Over there! — Although squinting at the unpleasant sound, Shirokov ran towards the source of the sound, along with Slava. Meanwhile, Yura opened the garage door with a terrible creak, looking inside. He looked around cautiously, holding one hand in his pocket, which contained the knife for self-defense, and carefully took a step. The garage was empty, and there was no car parked. And Yura himself felt through his winter boots that he had stepped into some kind of liquid in the dark. — Where’s the fucking light switch? — Yura swore. Suddenly, he heard a sharp sound, as if something had fallen. He quickly took out a knife, but immediately dropped it on the floor because he was in a hurry. He quickly picked up the knife, feeling it in the semi-darkness in some obscure dark liquid, either dirty water or gasoline, it still stank in the garage. But suddenly the door, which was open and gave the opportunity to see at least a little something, slammed shut, leaving Muzychenko in the dark. He sighed heavily, took out his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight on it. Yura found the switch, but it didn’t work. — Did they trick me again…? It seems that I arrived on time, as agreed… and then there’s also no light — Muzychenko looked down and saw, shining his flashlight on himself, that he had stepped into a pool of blood. Shining his light deep into the garage, he saw the corpse of a man with his throat slit., — Fuck… Yura suddenly realized that his knife had fallen into a pool of blood, which spread almost all over the floor, since it was uneven and any liquid flowed down to the gate. Shining a light on his fingers, Yura also realized that they were covered in someone else’s blood. — Fuck, fuck, fuck… — Muzychenko started to panic, he tried to wipe the blood away, — This is a damn setup! — Yura rushed to the exit, running out of the garage. He started trying to clean the blood from his hand, but in his panic he accidentally stained part of his jacket, too, — BITCH… At the same moment, he looked to the side and saw Valya and Slava walking towards him. Muzychenko panicked when he got up from the snow, because everything was going according to the standard scenario, where an innocent man was framed, blaming the murder of an unknown person on him. Makarov noticed Yura’s nervousness from afar, seeing how he backed away and then tried to escape. — Yura, stop! — Slava rushed after him. Although they were both running fast, Slava still caught up with Yura, grabbing him and trying to calm him down. — IT WASN’T ME! NOT ME! I WAS FRAMED! — QUIET! We’ll. figure it. out, — Makarov still wouldn’t let him go, because he was trying to escape, when Slava let him go in an attempt to catch him, thinking that he wouldn’t escape, — Yura calm down… — Calm down?! But there… — Yura, I understand perfectly well that you are not a murderer. — The police won’t believe me, I’m the main suspect now… I have this guy’s blood on me.… I accidentally got dirty in it, there’s no light and… — Yura. Don’t you dare run away. It’s not your fault, but running away will only make it worse. Do you understand me? — Uh-huh… let go of me, or you’ll accidentally strangle me… And you’ll get dirty in this blood… — Yura said softly in a strangled voice, being in the grip of Slava for the umpteenth time during his attempts to escape, — I won’t run away… — I don’t care. It’s an old jacket anyway. — Um… that’s not what I meant… It’s like how things work in the police: who has blood on then is the killer? — Or a pathologist. That’s it, Yura. Let’s go. — Slava, don’t you understand? My knife fell into a pool of blood… Makarov silently turned to look at him, as he was walking in front of him. Yura called him by name again. This could not but alarm Makarov. This is the second time in a row. What did that mean? Yura looked at him guiltily, following him. — I… got into a lot of bloody shit… — Damn, Yura… Slava sighed heavily, shaking his head. When they returned to the right garage, they found that several police cars were already parked there. Valya was among them, telling them something. Among them were Yurkov, Biryukov and Khaidarov, who had already entered the garage to start working with the corpse., — Fuck, Yura, you’re definitely fucked… — What have I been in besides shit?… Muzychenko sighed dejectedly, heading in that direction to voluntarily show himself as a suspect. Slava accompanied him, holding his shoulder. Yurkov immediately noticed and whistled approvingly. — Well done, Makarov! You’ve already apprehended a suspect! There he is, covered in blood! Let’s get him here, I’ll pack him up nicely and put him in the car with Christmas bracelets! — He’s not a suspect, Yurkov! — Slava roared, — He’s been framed! — What the fuck are you talking about? — The lieutenant colonel snorted, roughly grabbing Yura and pinning him to the hood of the car, handcuffing him, — Then why the fuck did you run after that fool? He’s covered in blood. So he’s a suspect and a murderer. — Yura is not a murderer! — Oh, so you know him? Wow! — Can’t you be more careful, you fucking moron?! — Muzychenko snapped, glaring at Yurkov. Yurkov punched him in the back, making Yura cough. — Shut up! Or i gagged your fucking mouth. Marat suddenly raised his head, distracted from his work, and abruptly turned back. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when he saw that Yura was the suspect. Khaidarov got up from the garage floor and ran out. — Okay, stop! Wait! Why the hell are you detaining Yura as a suspect? — Marat frowned at Yurkov, — Release him, it’s not his fault! I know that for sure! — Um, there’s blood on it. Do you see it or have you become blind with age? — Yurkov quipped. Valya immediately flew up and punched him in the face, —Ouch! You’re a nit! — Stop it, both of you! — Colonel Mishin suddenly got out of one of the cars, frowning at the situation. Maybe it’s your friend, whom you know well. But there’s blood on it. Plus, Makarov brought him in covered in blood. He’s the only suspect here. — I’ll even tell you myself! I got stained in his blood! There’s no light in the garage! — Yura joined the conversation, trying to somehow justify himself. — Then What the fuck are you was doing there, asshole? — Yurkov barked, grabbing Muzychenko by the collar of his jacket, — You just admitted that you were in this garage! — Yes, I was! I was called there for a meeting and… — WHO?! Who invited you there?! The corpse that’s lying there?! Who are you lying to?! The murdered man invited you to a meeting, didn’t he?! Something wasn’t shared and you stabbed him?! Yura abruptly stopped talking. Everyone was looking at him, waiting for an answer. Yurkov became angry because of the suspect’s silence. He opened the car and roughly pushed Yura into it, closing the door. — You’ll temporarily sit in a cell, you’ll think, you silent one. Take him away! Yurkov commanded, slapping the car. Marat frowned, looking in the direction of Yurkov, the car where Yura was sitting, and the garage. Slava was alarmed, looking at the car in which Yura was put. Muzychenko at that moment looked first at Marat, then at Slava and then looked away. Why didn’t he tell the truth, who brought him there?

Few moments later...

Muzychenko sat in the interrogation room in handcuffs and remained stubbornly silent. He refused to say who he contacted. Yurkov tried to interrogate him first. Muzychenko immediately realized what kind of bastard he was and didn’t bother being nice to him, openly telling him to fuck off. At the same time, he decided to entertain himself. — I’m asking you again, puppy… — You’re a puppy here, you bastard. Piss yourself off — What the fuck are you… The lieutenant colonel did not have time to get indignant, as at that moment Yura kicked the table on which there was a glass of water, which he poured himself. The glass tipped over right on top of Yurkov’s pants. Muzychenko grinned. Yurkov was in a rage with his pants wet in the right place —You tattooed bastard!!! I’m going to punch your fucking face in! He barked, jumping up from his seat, heading towards Yura with his fists. The man did not lose his head, swinging his leg and hit him in the chest, pushing him away from himself — Someone’s legs are too long! I wish I could break your damn legs! Maybe it would have taught you something! — Pfft… How many times have I already broken one of them, yeah, — Yura chuckled, rolling his eyes, — Listen, you work disgusting. Fuck you. I’m definitely not going to tell you anything, you’re pissing me off and I don’t like your face, drunk. I don’t want to talk to you, get out of here. I don’t like you. Ugh. — Look at your face! — What’s wrong with my face? I’m not complaining. Actually, I have an intelligent St. Petersburg face, but you have the face of an ill-mannered pig. The cattle are ill-mannered. Ugh! Fuck you! — Yura barked sharply, which Yurkov did not expect, already recoiling back from the sharp resonance of Yura’s voice in the interrogation room. It was quite loud. — Loud-mouthed yet… Who are you anyway? A singer, right? With a voice like that? You have the voice of a croaking rooster. — You’re the croaking rooster here, and I’m the frontman of my own band, but you don’t even deserve to know this information, you stinky shit, when was the last time you washed? You also breathed on me, ugh! I almost threw up while I was driving in the car, smelling your scent! You smell fucking worse than durian. No, why am I insulting an innocent fetus? At least he wasn’t born a fucker like you. Vegetables are smarter than you are! I immediately realized that you were a moron by your behavior and character. And I didn’t like you right away! Get the fuck out of here before you get hit by me again! — We can use a rubber baton or a taser against a madman like you! — I’ll give you a tip: Stick both deep in your ass and turn on the shocker to the fullest, the result will be SPARKLING! You’ll see stars in your eyes! haha! And these shockers haven’t scared me for a long time, I’m immune to them after participating in a show where I was almost constantly electrocuted! Do you even know how many times I’ve been electrocuted? I can’t count it! I’m already a fucking Zeus! — Grrr… I CAN’T WORK WITH THIS FUCKER! — Yurkov shouted irritably at the whole room, to the dirty laughter of Yura, who enjoyed how he lowered another nit he had met in his life. — You’re the only fucker here, the others didn’t shove me around the department or humiliate me like some kind of outcast. And you hit me in the back and in the stomach and wherever the fuck you didn’t hit me. Just know: It doesn’t even hurt, it tickles~ You hit like a woman, by God, no offense to them. Who taught you how to fight at all? You even got your punch wrong, and plus, while I was standing there and suffering your pathetic humiliation, you waved your fist past me, even though I was right in front of your stupid face! — Muzychenko almost laughed, continuing to humiliate this idiot, — Pfft… I can’t, it’s so funny! You’re probably the main clown here! Not a funny clown, really. Pennywise would be funnier. And I don’t give a fuck that he’s a freak-moving devil, but he dances funny. But you don’t. — Ooooh… Nooo, you’re the clown here, Muzychenko, judging by your tattoos! —Ah-ah-ah! A clown of the dramatic genre, by the way, and not just a clown, I ask you to note, — Yura continued to deftly mock, playing on the nerves of the annoying lieutenant colonel, whom he immediately hated, but at the same time grinned, enjoying his “playing” like a violin, — Dude, you don’t even know how to humiliate normally, what do you know at all? You made five mistakes in the document over there, I can see it even from here, considering that the text is upside down on my side. — Are you the smartest person here?! Right now you’re going to be upside down! — And torture is prohibited here and is not applied by law. Well, look. Do you have a college degree? — Well, how do you think I got to the police, smartass?! — I see. And I have a higher education~ Unlike you, dumbass. If you really have a college degree, then you can answer a simple question: tell me, how many animals were on the ark of Moses? — What the fuck? Did I count that?! There are two of each creature there.… And… um… — Yurkov thought about it, but Yura smiled maliciously, knowing that he would answer incorrectly anyway, — Well, let’s say fifteen thousand! — YOU IDIOT! — Yura burst out laughing, — Are you even aware that Moses did not have an ark?! — What?! Why the fuck are you asking at all then?! — Yurkov was furious, not understanding how Muzychenko deftly built him up like bridges in St. Petersburg. — Because you don’t have the brains to figure out that I asked you a trick question! Noah had the Ark! Well, Noah’s Ark! Man, you… PFFFF… God, I’m going to die laughing here. You don’t even know such a simple thing! Even a three-year-old child will tell you that he knows about Noah’s Ark! God, I’m starting to believe in your existence. It was necessary to create such an idiot! — Fuck you! Ugh! Are you going to answer questions or am I fucking putting you in jail right now?! I’ll give you a long deadline.… — By such illegal actions, you will impose a sentence on yourself. They don’t just put someone in jail, I know the laws~ You haven’t even proven my guilt yet, and you haven’t found out a damn thing about me yet. You’re a shitty employee, no offense. — Are you aware that we are being recorded, idiot?! Yura immediately looked at the camera in the corner and smiled, waving his cuffed hands — Smile and wave! — Yura grinned, — Yeah, they record and record what a moron you are. — You’re a fucking clown! The sound is also being recorded! — They also hear what a fucker you are and how I lower you below the baseboard, ugh, a disgrace to the police. You don’t have to work for the police, you have to sell alcohol in a store. And yes, I know that everyone here can’t stand you, and that’s why no one has stopped me yet, — Yura leaned back in his chair, looking at the camera again, — They’re just sitting there in a separate room, laughing at you and enjoying how I just keep destroying you~ — It’s all taken too long! I’m going to destroy you to hell right now if you don’t start talking! — Oh! Wait wait… Wait a second, — Yura was suddenly taken aback and looked away, making a dejected look, putting his hands to his chest, exhaling loudly and convulsively, — I need five seconds, no… ten. Just wait… Yurkov rolled his eyes in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for him to say something. Muzychenko suddenly turned his head in his direction. He held out both hands to him. And suddenly he showed two middle fingers, smiling. — Now I’ll say this: Fuck you, bitch~ Yurkov slammed his fists on the table in exasperation and left the interrogation room, handcuffed to the table Yura didn’t escaped anyway, but the guards were still standing outside and inside. Yura looked at the guard, who silently made an approving gesture, he didn’t like Yurkov either, like the whole department. — Pfft. I was having a little fun, but i could have done even better, — Yura lazily stretched as much as he could and yawned, — He tired me, honestly. Okay, we laughed, but now it’s going to be serious.… Abashev entered the interrogation room, covering his mouth with his hand, still not calming down after laughing in the next room because of how Muzychenko humiliated Yurkov. Sanych calmed down and sat down opposite Yura. The man glared at him in silence. No smirk, no smile, nothing. Zero emotions. A blank look from under his brows. — So, Yuri Yurievich… Hmm… okay, I’ll call you Yura, who doesn’t know you in our department, right? Heh… Yura was silent. All his joking vanished in an instant, he was focused. — Hmm… the jokes are over, right? By the way, you did a good job with that Yurkov, we all can’t stand him here, and… Heh, okay. Since you’re so serious… let’s start the interrogation anyway.

Some time...

Abashev sat clutching his head, not understanding Muzychenko’s stubbornness. — Well, if you’re not guilty, then why don’t you say something?! Yura, how did you even get to this point?! Yura silently looked at him from under his brows, holding his handcuffed hands on the table and glaring at him. — Tsk… okay, someone take over! — Abashev looked irritably at the camera hanging in the corner of the interrogation room, — Anyone can relieve me? He’s just going to devour me with his gaze! I’m going crazy with his silence! Shirokov, come here, show yourself what you can do! — Shirokov, right? — Muzychenko grinned, speaking in a low tone, — Aren’t you afraid that I’ll definitely kill him? He’s my damn neighbor actually. And I certainly would have killed him. That shaggy dog owes me money for two damn burnt-out laptops! Holy shit! I’ll tell him personally when we meet! With passion! And a violin bow in his ass. Sanych looked at Yura in silence and dumbfounded, then looked into the camera, making a cross with his hands, saying, “don’t bring Shirokov here, otherwise the murder will definitely be committed.” Abashev looked at Yura again, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for someone to come to relieve him. — Who are you covering for, huh? What’s your problem? — I won’t say anything. But I definitely didn’t kill this guy, I’ve never even seen him! — Well, if you didn’t kill, why the fuck are you silent?! You’re making it worse for yourself! — I have my reasons and I don’t have to talk about them. — Actually, Muzychenko, you must, you need to know the laws! — Oh, you don’t have to threaten me with laws here, I’m not stupid! I have a college degree by the way! — Well, all right. Maybe then the one who actually detained you will deal with you? Makarov. Your shift. — No…no, no… — Yura mumbled softly, then the door to the interrogation room opened and Slava entered it, walking to the vacant seat on Abashev’s chair, sitting opposite Yura with a serious look. Yura looked at him with a resigned look, slowly shaking his head negatively. He seemed to be paralyzed at that moment. — Yura, I think I asked you not to resist… they want to help you. The whole department is on your side, understand… — Makarov began his interrogation, sighing heavily, seeing that Yura was definitely having a hard time. — You don’t understand… I can’t say, I can’t… — Yura. It’s very serious, believe me. Come on, tell me the truth, who threatened you? — Mmmm… — Yura shook his head negatively again, grabbing it, digging his fingers in. — Yura, don’t you trust me? At all? — No… no, not at all.… — Yura. Look at me. Look into my eyes. Muzychenko slowly raised his doomed gaze at him, as if the end of everything had come. Slava became alert, seeing the alarm in his eyes. He gently stretched out his hand to him, but Yura recoiled, averting his gaze from him. — Yura, please… Yura gritted his teeth. Out of frustration. Anger. Resentment. He was seething with all possible emotions from his hopeless situation. — Slava, I can’t! — Again… — What’s that again? What?! — You again… — What’s that again? I can’t tell you, I can’t! Isn’t it clear?! I can’t tell you, Slava! — Why the fuck are you calling me by my first name?! — Makarov couldn’t stand it, slamming his palm on the table, staring at Yura. Muzychenko was taken aback, not expecting such behavior from himself and Makarov. He was nervous. Strongly. Even forgetting that he almost never addressed Slava by his real name. Only Kuzya. Makarov was as alarmed by his behavior as Yura himself. He was building his theories in his head about what could have happened to him, why he abruptly broke off communication and disappeared. What could have happened? — I don’t know myself, Kuzya… — Yura said softly, looking into space in front of him, but not at Slava sitting in front of him. — Yura. Before it’s too late, you have to tell the truth… Muzychenko, this is not a joke, don’t you understand? Slava stopped talking when he saw what happened to Yura. He was sitting in his place, covering his eyes with his palms and lowering his head at the same time, — Yura… — Slava, it pains me to say this, believe me.… But if they need to, these bastards will figure me out, even here. That’s why… — Yura sighed heavily, gathering his strength, and finally looked Makarov in the eye, — Just get lost. Right now. Slava stared at him in silence, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. — Get out. From here. Right now! — Muzychenko said, separating them by syllables. Slava just looked at him with a serious but worried look, perfectly understanding his behavior and protection. — That’s not going to work, Yura. I will not give up my own. No matter what happens. Fuck me, though. Come on. Try. — Slava, please! — Yura shouted desperately, — I don’t want any of you to get hurt! Please understand! Hear me! — Yura, I hear you. I can hear you perfectly. But you’re stubborn, of course.… So I think the next person who doesn’t usually participate in interrogations… will make an exception for you. And yes, I remind you once again: You always called me Kuzya, — Slava got up from his seat and left the interrogation room. Yura clutched his head, growling desperately, then closed his eyes again. — I’m sorry… — he whispered faintly, still sitting in the same position, quietly sniffing, — I’m sorry… Marat suddenly entered the interrogation room, giving Yura a serious look and crossing his arms over his chest. Muzychenko was taken aback, looked in his direction and slowly shook his head. — No… no, no, no, no… But Marat, don’t come here.… Are you trying to kill me… — I would have heard everything anyway, Yura, through this camera in the corner, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, — Khaidarov said in a calm tone. — Marat… mm… — Yura, you have huge problems. Muzychenko lowered his head to the table, sighing dejectedly and moaning in anguish. — I know… but they’ll be there anyway… Please stop.… Khaidarov sat down at the table opposite Muzychenko, arms crossed over his chest, looking at him expectantly. Yura slowly looked up at him, nervous. Marat stared at him in silence, not saying a word. There was silence for about a minute on both sides. — Yura, should I call your dad, huh? — Tsk… really? — Yura snorted, — Do I look like a child now to be blackmailed his bad behavior for and menace tell my father? I can’t say anything anyway.… — How bad is it? — Very much. — Threats? — Yes — Right, left? — It was a special question, a cipher that only Marat and Yura understood each other. But even because of this, Yura tensed, realizing that even through the cipher it would be difficult to answer the truth. — Marik, please don’t… Even so… — Yura, the truth, — Khaidarov said in a stern tone, glaring at him. Muzychenko was silent for a while, weighing all the pros and cons and sighed dejectedly, answering. — In the… right… Marat raised his eyebrows in surprise, then frowned, shaking his head. This meant that the threat was to the lives of his loved ones, not himself. — How did this happen? How did you get into this mess? — It’s completely my fault, I fell for the trick of seemingly ordinary scammers, got into money and… and under threats to the lives of my loved ones, I fulfilled their demands, as long as they did not touch you.… Not you. Not Slava. No father… No mother, no daughter, no wife… no my band… Not the rest of my friends and acquaintances… They figured out where I live, and I had to run away, change my phone, and secretly contact you on another phone.… I do not even know their faces, I do not know who they are, they have erased all correspondence, Marat… They’ve wiped everything clean, it can’t even be restored.… — Yura, we are the police. And we’ll figure it out. I’ll figure it out. Where’s your real phone? — I got rid of him when it was too late and all the correspondence was erased.… Recently, they figured out my other number and continued to harass me there, having learned that I had fled to Gelendzhik.… I couldn’t tell anyone about this, and all of you are still under threat. They found out everything and figured everyone out. I wanted to protect you, I had to lie, dodge, interrupt communication, but all in order for you all to be safe.… I couldn’t let them hurt you. Marat sighed heavily, looking down. It was hard for him to hear that his best friend was in such a dangerous situation, considering that everyone was under unknown threat, including, it seemed, even Ravil. — How did you even manage to get like that, hm? — I thought it was a regular courier delivery, I was tired, I didn’t pay attention that they suddenly asked for a code, I told them, and… then they hacked everything they could and began to blackmail me.… I’m not talking about Public Services at all… yes, I’m a moron, I know! I… I don’t know what kind of fucked-up state I was in to forget that I couldn’t give the code to the courier… I ordered a damn meal.… I shoul’d rather go to the store, I’m a lazy ass. I never imagined that things would turn out this way.… I’m trapped like a stupid kid! So now they also wanted to pin a murder on me! And what will happen now?! — Yura, exhale. I did the autopsy. The identity was established. He’s a former felon who started cheating. We found his phone in his pocket and there was the last conversation with you, where he told you to come to the garage. Who actually killed him remains to be seen. You just accidentally got dirty in his blood, I proved it, because the knife that cut his throat was definitely not your little pocket knife that you stained with blood, but a big hunting knife. The police are looking for the killer. But your confession was needed anyway, Yura, such are the rules in the police. It’s to prove that you’re innocent. We will restore and return all your data, but you will need to change your password and security, and set up two-factor authentication. And the extra protection that we’ll give you. — I know that’s the way it’s done, I just… I’m still afraid… That they’ll hurt you all… It was clearly more than one person.… — By the way, the loans that were issued to you have already been canceled, my dad and I have dealt with this. — They also issued loans for me?! What faggots! And thank you and Ravil Alexandrovich.… — You don’t just have to thank us, Yura… — Khaidarov got up from his seat, walked over to Yura and took the keys out of his pocket, unbuckling the handcuffs on Yura’s hands. He rubbed his wrists, then hugged Marat, burying himself in his shoulder. —I’m sorry, — Muzychenko whispered, hugging him tightly. Khaidarov hugged him back. — It’s not your fault… — Actually, it’s my fault… — Not murder, at least, Yura. But the fact that you’re a goofball is true. You hit it big. But we’ll help you out. You should have told me right away.… — I couldn’t, you were the first thing under threat, not even Anna and Lisa… and not even mother and father… the next thing under threat was Slava… Everything was dangerous… — We’ll figure it out. You’re free. But, Yura, my father is already aware of the situation, he urges you not to come home yet. It’s better to go to a hotel, either to me or to Slava, but not there. This area is too criminal, of course you found a place to escape.… — I get it, — Yura nodded in agreement, then looked into the camera, feeling that he was still being watched from the next room. And so it was. Biryukov, Abashev, and Makarov and Shirokov were looking at him. Slava stared intently at the camera, seeing Yura’s gaze into the lens, his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, the situation was really serious. Shirokov also frowned. If Muzychenko decides to temporarily live with Marat, then all his plans will collapse and no rapprochement planned through Marat’s apartment will happen! He couldn’t let that happen. Valya went out into the corridor, where Khaidarov and Muzychenko were already standing and talking. He confidently approached them, forgetting for a moment about the fact that he was afraid of Yura. Muzychenko turned a narrowed gaze on him, grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. — Well, I’ve seen you now. Shirokov. — You know, since you’re such a walking problem, I don’t advise you to live even temporarily with Marat Ravilevich, — Shirokov frowned, rising above Yura, temporarily losing his fear. Muzychenko himself did not move, looking at him skeptically. Marat looked blankly at Valya, not understanding the reason for his verbal assault on Yura, — Since he may be in danger because of you, like Slava, it’s better for you to stay in a hotel for now. — Where you’re hiding from me like a coward, aren’t you? Are you afraid that I’ll punch you in the face?! — Muzychenko clenched his fists, growling softly. Valya didn’t back down, clenching his fists in response, continuing to tower over him, — Don’t try to scare me with your height. I can even defeat two-meter-tall dogs. — That’s it, isn’t it? Well, try it, shorty… — WHO DID YOU CALL SHORTY, I’M GOING TO HIT YOU RIGHT NOW… — Stop! — Khaidarov said sharply, and both of them immediately shut up, looking at him. Marat snorted softly in displeasure, — What are you like little boys? And yes, Valya is probably right. Yura should wait at the hotel temporarily for now. I’ll ask my dad to get a room there. Marat took out his phone and started calling his father, stepping aside. Muzychenko and Shirokov glared at each other again, clenching their fists. — And what would you do to me, Muzychenko? Would you bite my leg? ~ Yura looked at him skeptically, bent his arm at the elbow and with a sharp movement hit him, but not hard, in the stomach, forcing him to bend over. He specifically calculated the force to only make him bend in half for his trolling about the height difference. After that, he gently but noticeably took Shirokov by the hair, turning him to face him while he was in an inclined state. — You make that joke again and I’ll bite your legs off, — Yura snorted, abruptly releasing him and stepping aside, crossing his arms, watching as he regained consciousness, — Dude, I even shoved you a little, are you serious? The sissy… — You damn… — Anger began to wake up in Val, — You’re going to fly out of this right now… — But suddenly he remembered one important fact. About his father. Ravil’s right hand. And the anger immediately evaporated. Muzychenko noticed this and grinned, realizing what was the matter. — You’ve remembered whose son I am, haven’t you? Don’t think about it, I’m not taking advantage of it. But you’re thinking right, egg yolk. — Get out of the department already, Yuri. As long as you’re free. — Mmm, you’re dripping with self-doubt, boy, it feels like you’re new here. By the way, you owe me five thousand five hundred now for two burnt laptops, plus compensation for moral damage to me and my apartment, because there was even a fucking fire because of you, you fucking idiot! Shirokov frowned into space in front of him, and then rolled his eyes. He covered them with his palm and sighed dejectedly. — If I earn it, I’ll give it back… — Yes, yes, of course, he will earn… he will give. Mgm. Bullshit, that’s all! You just barely got a job, are you kidding? You should still live to see your paycheck! Asshole, damn it… you’re lucky that Marat likes you, otherwise I would have definitely killed you. He’s found something in you, you moron. — WHAT? — Valya choked on air, coughing. Clearing his throat, he was finally able to speak when Yura brought him water from the cooler. — Again: You said… Marat likes me…? — Pfft, are you blind yourself? And wait, I wasn’t talking about the love front, wait with that. First, establish friendly relations properly, then make love. Well, or… I don’t know, act like a schoolboy in love and send him love letters. In short, a fact is a fact. And then act on your own. — Are you… uh… hinting that Marat and I might have a… relationship? — Shirokov looked at Yura with some disbelief, but still with hope. — I’m not saying it’s possible, but I’m not saying it’s impossible either. That’s why I haven’t killed you yet. But you’ve already been elbowed in the stomach for my two laptops. With this elbow. Be glad that it’s the only way. — Oh, so that’s why… — Well, you got it for your trolling about the height difference, too. Consider that I’ve commuted my sentence for you. And now, orevoir, I’m off. Muzychenko headed for the exit of the department. Valya stood thoughtfully for a while, and then decided to catch up with Yura to ask something. — Yura, wait… He turned around, looking questioningly at Shirokov. Valentin caught his breath slightly before speaking. — And what about you… with Slava Makarov? — And what about me and Slava? — That’s what I’m asking. What? Well, there… if you’re talking and hinting that Marat and I might have… — Ah, I think I got it, — Yura said thoughtfully, looking away, then he turned his gaze back to Valya. — Well, what about it? Why would you give me that advice for Marat? Well, about the love letter, that is… — Is that forbidden? — Well, it’s just… Maybe you too…? — What am i too? — Yura was indignant, looking at him with narrowed eyes, — What’s the hint? M? — …I think I’ll go before you punch my face in… Otherwise, I’ll blurt out something else.… — Hmm… businesslike… you’re being too smart, Shirokov! If you know less, you sleep better! — Okay, I’ll take my chances.: Are you in love the same way I am? And yes, I’m aware that you’re married and… There was a deathly silence. The two of them stared at each other as if rooted to the spot. Shirokov decided to retreat immediately, not waiting for Yura’s answer, realizing that he had clearly hit a mine, which had not yet exploded, to his good fortune. Muzychenko himself silently looked in the direction of the runaway, grinned and went to the exit of the department. —That’s a fool, — Yura drawled mysteriously, about to leave the building, when he suddenly noticed Slava at the end of the corridor, who was discussing something with someone from the staff, holding several folders in his hands. Muzychenko sighed softly, still worried. He took out his phone, anxiously looking at the screen, expecting some kind of threats towards his loved ones, as it was before. But there was nothing. This is radovado. But there was no guarantee that the danger was over. While Yura was standing staring at the screen of his phone, he did not notice that Slava was already standing behind him, looking over his shoulder at the screen — What an interesting main screen, right, Yura? Yura started up in fright, looking sharply over his shoulder, and then exhaled — I still can’t be sure that danger isn’t following you all right now because I told you everything… and… forgive me for acting like this, forgive me for making it look like I left you, I… I didn’t mean to… I’m just an idiot who messed up and… Makarov silently hugged him, bending down so that he was at least a little shorter than him. Yura was taken aback at first, not expecting that Slava could forgive him at all for such a long separation due to problems in his life. Slava continued to hug him, unwilling to let go, after their long separation and finally reuniting again. — I’m sorry, — Yura whispered, hugging him. — I’m not mad, Yura, actually I’m barely holding back tears here.… And by the way, I missed you… because of that disappearance of yours.… I felt like you were into something bad, you wouldn’t leave anyone.… It’s not in your nature to leave those you care about.… — You… know me well. — I’ve already memorized all your tricks in a few years… — Heh… I remember yours, too. But I didn’t think that you were so attached to me that you didn’t reject me for my actions today.… Anyone else would have already told me to fuck off and put me in jail. — Oooh… it looks like you’re lovers after all… Yura and Slava froze, then slowly shifted their gaze in one direction. Towards Valentine, who was standing nearby, watching the scene. They both frowned slightly. — Kuzya, don’t you want to kick him in the ass? It seems to me that he even got a little fucked up. — With pleasure~ — Huh?! What do you mean?! Don’t give me a kick in the ass here, and I’ve already been hurt by this tattooed jerk! — Shirokov was indignant, stepping back, bumping into an unfortunate ficus tree on the way, almost dropping it, — Damn! Makarov, you should have fought evil, not joined it! Fuck… Makarov! You’re a traitor! Shirokov sprinted across the corridor, Slava rushing after him to deliver a powerful kick in the ass. Muzychenko laughed at this scene, but still inside he was worried about his loved ones. Khaidarov came up to him, putting his hand on his shoulder. — Yura, I’m sorry, but there weren’t enough rooms available, so you… Valentine’s neighbor again. Your rooms are opposite each other. — Are you kidding me?! — Yura looked at Marat indignantly, throwing up his hands, — I’m sorry, but I can’t help but kill him! — Pfft… who are you going to kill, Yura? With your kind soul? Beat someone’s face, yes, you can beat anyone who pisses you off. But you’re still kind, no matter how mean you seem to someone. But still, don’t touch Val, it’s not easy for him in the department from the first day, now he’s started to adapt somehow. And I’ve already ordered a new laptop for you, they’ll be here soon. So for the new year, let go of all your resentments and relax. — Are you really… Yura tried to process and digest everything Marat had told him as quickly as possible, but he barely had time to do it. Khaidarov laughed a little, patting him on the head. — You’re welcome, Yura. You’re welcome, — He smiled slightly, putting his arm around Yura’s shoulder. Muzychenko hugged him back, finally digesting everything Marat had said to him. He rethought everything he had said and made his own mental conclusion. — Well, okay, if you like this yolk so much, I won’t kill it. — Pfft… you wouldn’t kill him anyway, Yura, — Marat playfully lightly flicked his nose, which made him wince, shaking his head, — Who are you trying to intimidate here, huh? You are my formidable — Yes, I… yes, I’m kidding, what? I’m not going to kill your lover, honestly~ Ouch! — Yura twitched slightly when Khaidarov lightly pinched his side for the phrase about a lover — Come on, don’t talk nonsense, right? The lover… — Well, who else? As if it wasn’t obvious! — Yura. — Okay, okay… a future husband~ — You’re incorrigible… — Marat sighed dejectedly, grinning all the same, as it was said in a joking manner. — Of course~ — Artificially — Tsk. Come on, I don’t need to have a battle of sarcasm here. You can’t over-sarcasm me anyway. — I’ve never tried to do that, Yura. I just answered the way my heart tells me to. — And what does it tell you about Valentine? — Probably the same thing that yours says about Slava. — Aaaaa..... Huh?! Marat grinned, heading towards the department. — See you later, Yura. Go to your room, I sent you all the information by text message. Yura was still a little shaken, but he took out his phone, looked at the screen again and saw a message from Marat, which indicated the information and the exact address, as well as the floor and number. — Well… I hope I really don’t kill this shaggy—haired idiot, — Muzychenko chuckled, looking towards the corridor where Slava and Valya had fled, after which he left the building to go to his hotel room. To be continued…