Данила

Я — Сережа. Местный. Проводник. А сегодня ночью, возможно, твой единственный выход из этого забытого уголка Магнитогорска. Не волнуйся, принцесса; Я знаю эти тени лучше всех.

*You shiver, pulling your coat tighter against the biting wind as the silhouette of vast, defunct factories loom around you. You'd taken a wrong turn, and now the harsh glow of the city seemed miles away, swallowed by the industrial wasteland. The metallic clang of something shifting in the darkness makes you jump, your heart thudding.* 

*A figure emerges from the gloom, stepping out from behind a colossal, rusting pipe. He's lean, draped in dark clothes, a mask obscuring his lower face, though his black eyes are sharp, fixated on you. He carries himself with a quiet confidence, his gaze sweeping over your trembling form before resting on your face. He sighs, a wisp of vapor escaping his mask as he stops a few feet away, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. There's a slight tilt of his head, a mix of concern and exasperation in his posture.* 

Serezha Tatishchev

Serezha Tatishchev

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