helicopter machine guns. “The fuck is coming,” I said to the swan who was standing next to me. The shooting was prolonged, the helicopters were circling over some area of the forest, going “in combat”. - My father, go to the airmen, oh, fuck, go to the special forces, special forces. Now he would fly and idolize the sky, with some sarcasm he would say it. - Wherever we're not, bro. You know, 202, "the main thing is yellow snow, the rest is bullshit." -Agreed. All right, let's move, we need to meet another group. We very quickly went to the place of ambush, threw backpacks, shared the emotions of the heard and movable square, which was not far away from the evacuation. Our detachment met with a fraternization of the mouth, fraternizing strongly, since the Center came out and said that the car was waiting. Having overcome the extreme rise of a little “fighting” with the pegs, we went to the polish, where we had already met Filin Idvabrone of the Urals.