“Brock! He’s got a—” I yell out a warning, only to be cut off by the dark, bulky figure leaping in front of me. “Nyet,” a rough voice calls loudly, swinging a gun against Finch’s head. “One move, I pull the trigger. Hand it over.” Fyodor?
me: this is so boring I want it to be over—
an angry Soviet with a gun: 🧍♂️🔫
