[6/20] Makarovgrad will win!!!

When I entered the laboratory, work
was in full swing. Buried with some instruments and units, Chuev furiously waved his soldering iron. Having somehow dug Andrey out of
a pile of scrap metal, I
inquired:
- Have you checked the wiring? - I asked in a sweet voice. I knew that
the SBM superagent achieves such a state
only by forgetting the wiring diagram of
some connector.
The superagent looked at me and barked:
- Why did you get up?! Come on, help!
- What about the magic word? - I asked.
- FAST!!! - Andrei shouted and grabbed some heavy device. Having lost
its balance, the pile of instruments finally
absorbed the agent.
I quickly scattered the rubbish that
had littered the best intelligence officer, and
untangled the wires with which Chuev had carefully
wound himself.
- What are you doing? - I asked and hid behind the oak door that the agent had stolen from me. He then threw his knife so hard that it was impossible to pull it out.
- Yes, with nothing!!! - my friend yelled and
threw another device at me. The device
flew by, observing the laws of physics, and
crashed into my door, while dousing it with machine oil in advance.
Andrey nervously lit a cigarette. Thick smoke
Belomor hid it from sight and Igot out of the shelter. I silently crept up to Chuev
and carefully hit him on the tower. The agent
passed off and I was given the
opportunity to calmly find out what was going on.
After digging around for half an hour, I found what
I was looking for - an electronic watch with some
unplugged connector. I disassembled the body
of the timescope and saw a new diagram.
Turning to the SBM superagent, I asked:
- What kind of scheme is this?
The agent stood up with a grunt and, scratching
his bruised head, said:
- Direction finder.
I didn’t really understand everything, but nodded his head with an understanding
look; at that time
he himself was constructing a logical chain:

1 the direction finder must be able to find SOMETHING
2 this SOMETHING must be needed by Chuev, otherwise
why should he even bother with
this damned connector, but what
is important -
3 the superagent has lost SOMETHING, otherwise
why else take direction finding?

What did Andrey lose? An hour passed in thought.
“Seva, I lost my knife,” the super-agent of the Makarovgrad
special services informed me sadly, “yesterday it was there, but today
it’s gone.
“So you lost it yesterday,” I said with
pleasure, once again
showing remarkable mental abilities.
“Exactly, yesterday,” confirmed Andrey.
He came up to me and just as carefully
kicked me in the temple...
... When I woke up, I noticedthat the day and Chuev’s patience were running out. He angrily
threw units of unknown
purpose through a previously
broken window onto Kremer Avenue. You could
hear them falling onto the asphalt and
breaking. Suddenly, one of the particularly heavy
devices made a GOOD LANDING on someone's
head and we heard very important
information, which I immediately wrote down in
my little book.
- Shame on you, you bad
people! - then the man choked on blood and died, which brought great pleasure to Chuev. (attention! the phrase of the dead
person may be translated
incorrectly due to incomprehensible words and
dialectical conventions ( translator's note )
Chuev grabbed a chalk and put another
toe on a very expensive carpet, already
half covered with zeros, crosses, dashes, little men, houses, complex mathematical calculations.
- Already the fourth one today! - the super agent, who loved his people very much.
- Well done! - I praised him, - you will receive a medal when you fill the entire carpet.
- Makarovgrad will win! - barked Chuev.
- Makarovgrad will win!!! Where is the direction finder? - I asked in a good mood.
- In the nest - with the same good mood!Andrey answered me.
I took the direction finder out of its socket with a completely soaked connector and tore it to hell...
... In five minutes everything was ready.
The direction finder took direction finders, and we walked according to the exact instructions of the electronic clock. Approaching
half an hour later to the TV tower and stopping
at an empty box leaning against the wall
of the warehouse, I realized that something was wrong and
learned from Andrey:
- Have you set everything up exactly? - I asked,
spitting on the bloody red jacket
which was lying at the flimsy door and,
it is not clear why, was shot in 57
places.
Chuev looked at me gloomily and I realized
that I was wrong.
Returning home, Chuev quickly soldered
his megacircuit, while I, meanwhile, took
mine quadruple anti-aircraft machine gun,
went for ammunition and returned covered
with machine gun belts,
grenades, pistols, landmines,
anti-tank mines, aerial bombs,
torpedoes, laser sights,
spy satellites, MARSEC AUTO GUNs
and other pyrotechnics toys.
The work was coming to an end and, having refreshed ourselves with
tea and muffins, we set off along the bearing
again.
Approaching the warehouse near the television
tower, we felt that we had arrived at the
place. The clock honestly pointed to the warehouse.
An old building with broken windows and
holey wallsexuded horror. Even
the box, mysteriously leaning against the ominous
wall, heightened the feeling of the unknown
danger that threatened us.
Immediately throwing a grenade at the door, I entered
with a machine gun at the ready and
fired a little.
When the cartridges ran out and the smoke
dissipated, a terrible
picture of a bloodbath arose before us. The walls, abundantly
stained with blood and human brains,
the ceiling, from which hung someone's
very sticky and sweetish-tasting
innards; The floor, more terrible than anything we had ever seen, was covered with a three-centimeter layer of human minced meat, chopped to its heart's content by some devil in human skin. The smell
of rotting flesh curled up and enveloped us
completely.
“Look for your knife,” I muttered, holding my nose.
Cheerfully slurping through the minced meat to the table, Chuev
stopped.
- Well, why are you up? - I asked, no less holding my nose.
- Something happened to the direction finder. He
points to this piece of meat, - Andrey, in
confusion, pointed with the cutlery to the ham lying on the table.
- Maybe you dined here and forgot
your knife during the festive dinner? -
I asked, staggering towards the
table, covered in blood and
a few brains.
Andrey did not answer. He tried to use the barrel of the M-16 to separate the meat, but was unsuccessful. Ham
notgave in.
Then I realized what was going on.
“Stand back,” I threw at Andrey. He
staggered, but stood his ground and walked away to the door.
I took a hand flamethrower out of my pocket,
took it off the safety and pulled the
trigger.
The scarlet flame attacked the ham and began
to devour it. The meat burned, exposing the bone. Soon the bone began to take the shape of Comrade's knife. Chueva. Having finished the dirty work, I put away the flamethrower, pinched my nose tighter and, having previously put on asbestos gloves, carefully took the hot knife with tongs. Andrey took it from me
and put it in his pocket. Without saying a word, we headed for the exit. Having tripped three times over the riddled red
spinjak, I went out into the street. Then I suddenly noticed bloody footprints that led to the nearest metro station. I grabbed the
super agent and threw it in his face:
- Traces!
At this point Andrei could no longer resist and fell onto the
cold concrete. I grabbed it and ran into the bushes, clanking metal.
“Someone was in this warehouse before us,” I whispered to Chuev when he woke up.
“Let’s follow where these tracks lead,” the SBM agent advised.
Carefully sneaking, we crawled along the tracks.
Apparently, we were well camouflaged, because people didn't notice us at all.
- What time is it? - asked some grandfather,
looking down at us.
-Twenty-two hours and three minutes... Service
060 will place your advertisement in the talking
clock... - said the secret intelligence officer
SBM.
- Thank you, young man, - grandfather thanked us and threw us a hundred
rubles, obviously mistaking us for homeless people. I restrained myself, clenched my teeth and crawled on.
“I humbly thank you, dear man, may
God bless you,” Chuev lamented until he was hit in the helmet with the butt of
AKS.
The tracks led to the supermarket. We hid
behind the flowerbeds in front of the store and discussed
further tactics:
- The tracks lead only to the supermarket.
That means the body is there, - the Makarovgrad superagent showed miracles
of deduction.
- They crawled, but only so that everything was
normal there! - I threw and hit a helmet from the time of the third world war. The helmet was bent,
but this did not stop Andrey.
We crawled into the market and followed the
footsteps. The tracks mysteriously ended in the fitting room. This is where the super agent
showed a skill that he had not
studied anywhere for ten years. In the trash he found
bloody clothes, surprisingly similar to
the weekend suit of Comrade Chuev.
- Someone dressed up as me and the wounded
came here. Then he was captured by enemy special services and burned. Here it is - evidence,” Andrey explained, showing me a piece of
red spinjak, “they took it, even though
heresisted arrest.
Even damaged the jacket of one of
the attackers,” the agent cried, but immediately
pulled himself together, denting the
titanium plates of the bulletproof vest.
But I was confused by this piece of the red
jacket. I saw something similar somewhere. But I just couldn't remember where exactly. We parted ways in thought. First Chuev crawled towards the exit, then I. The main thing was that no one could discover
that we were somehow connected with each other, which
we achieved at a distance of seven meters...
... When I crawled to my country house, it was already deep night. Shtoza was still awake. He enthusiastically hacked away at "Under a
Killing Moon" on my combat computer.
Offended that I interrupted him, he
went to prepare food for me. I entered data about today into my
supercomputer.
Having completed the input, I submitted a request for all
the information I was interested in and received
a report on form 094FH:

BEGIN
... Yesterday, in the warehouse building there was a
bloody showdown between the oppositionists and
an unknown cosmic force. Then an opposition agent came there, disguised
as Andrey, and planted a knife that had been previously stolen from Chuev, but an unknown
force struck him too. The wounded man crawled into the supermarket and tried to get first
medical aid, but then his own people overtook himsecurity services and, having confused him
with an SBM super agent, disintegrated him...
EOF

Everything fell into place. I realized that Chuev was in great danger, that a hunt had begun for him. I grabbed
the radiotelephone, cut the wire again and
remembered that it was an iron.
Having dialed the number on my phone, I waited,
but there was no answer. Apparently they have already
reached him. Damn!
“I’m here, my lord,” as always
calm Shtoza brought me dinner.
Eating the food, I thought hard about what I
should do. It was impossible to go to Andrey, because THEY were just waiting for this. I was lost in thought...

Andrei left the bathroom and walked into the living room. Su ka Yan was sitting in a chair and
reading "Seventeen Moments of Summer" by V. Aleshchenko. Chuev silently approached her and tore the book out of her hands.
- Bitch, I already told you, don’t touch
the books from my library without My
Permission!
And Andrei Chuev’s permission was
small: along the X axis - “hands off!”,
on Y - “don’t touch, official”, colors -
gloomy.
The poor Japanese woman, who did not know the Russian
language, tried to justify herself:
- I don’t want to take this book without asking.
It was just lying on the floor and I ...
- Shut up, - Andrey could not stand
the mockery of the official
state language,- better tell me
: did you answer the phone when the boss called?
Chuev had a wonderful ability
to intuitively guess the caller.
- Yes, - Yan answered joyfully.
- Well, what did he say?
- I don’t know, I don’t touch the phone, You
forbid me to touch your things, - stupid
daughter of the land of the rising sun clearly
should have taken Russian courses.
- Free! - the enraged Chuev angrily
grabbed the phone by the throat and dialed the number
of the director of SBM.

I woke up from the phone ringing. Who is this, I'm interested to know? No, you're lying, you won't take it! I confidently tore off the wire from the iron and the phone went silent, choking on the sound. Then I realized what I should do:
do nothing. Confuse the enemy with your
inaction, and then deliver a decisive
crushing blow. With these thoughts, I
went to bed.

Regards,
Random
--
Lord of Chaos.
e-mail: ran...@cybermail.net

Concern Chaos WWW HQ: http://www.cybermail.net/~random/