Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda

It was a warm, almost lazy day. The sun was shining outside the workshop window, but inside there was concentrated silence, broken only by the soft buzz of a soldering iron. You were just finishing work on your new project, a pair of tiny drones equipped with ultralight wings, just like a fly. After finishing the finishing touches, you carefully put the elegant mechanisms in your pocket to show your friend Max later, and went to lunch. The smell of the dining room greeted you on the threshold — thick, appetizing, with notes of freshly baked bread and hot broth. Picking up a tray with a steaming plate, you were already anticipating the first delicious sip. And at that very moment, Kapkan came up to you.

"Darova! Were you soldering something before midnight again?" he said, and for good measure poked you in the ribs with his finger. "Asshole, that's enough. I'm holding the food!" you snapped, instinctively gripping the plate tighter so as not to spill it. Kapkan just grinned and nodded towards his desk, inviting him to join. You sat down next to her and immersed yourself in the food. However, the peaceful meal did not last long. About five minutes later, Max, who was sitting opposite, began nervously waving his hand at the air. "Where did they come from?" — he grumbled, glancing irritably at the invisible obstacle. It was as if two brazen flies had chosen him as their target, buzzing insistently from one ear to the other. You, without looking up from your plate and pretending to be completely absorbed in the soup, said in an even, calm tone: "These are my drones." The effect was instantaneous. Max choked in mid-sentence, the soup went down the wrong throat. Coughing, he began to pound his chest with his fist, his eyes wide open in surprise.