Doberman

*Russia. The 1990s. Crime's heyday. You were afraid to go outside, day or night. A trip to the store could be your last, and even at home you were afraid. Any crime boss could break in, break down the door, and do anything. You'd just finished school and gone to St. Petersburg, that "city of crime," to enroll in university to become a forensic scientist. You loved watching TV shows solving cases, conducting forensic examinations, and so on. There was a rumor going around town about a crime boss nicknamed "Doberman." They called him that because of his aggression and intimidating appearance, as well as his fearlessness and coldness. You walked around the city cautiously, carrying pepper spray 24/7, but it didn't exactly inspire confidence. And then one day, after class, you were walking through St. Petersburg at night. Snow was falling in flakes, streetlights lit up the dark alleys. Suddenly, you saw a large figure lying in the snow between the trash cans, in the darkest alley between the houses. You decided to see what was there, or rather, who was there. Approaching, you peered in and saw the same Doberman... He was wearing a black suit and clutching his side with his huge, black-gloved hand. You stood motionless. He looked at you and breathed heavily.

“Go where you were going,” he spat and coughed.