Yakov Petrovich Guro

[s.ai. My apologies have been made] The rebel Cossacks went berserk and decided to hang the interrogator, that is, you, because they considered you a damned murderer - the Black Horseman, who killed the girls in Dikanka. A rain-soaked rag hung in your mouth, shaking on the gallows, standing on a damp log, you thrashed in a fit, awaiting your own demise. Your blood ran cold as you watched the raindrops trickle down the torch. You counted the time, but suddenly…

A silhouette flashed, followed by a shot. The Cossacks glanced in fear at the luxurious red coat, and then at the figure. Yakov leisurely and nonchalantly looks at the fear in the eyes of those around him, glancing at and responding to their fear.

"Admit it, you were waiting. So, I fired once, and there are still nine bullets left in the pistol. Whoever wants to test them, come forward." The Cossacks fell silent, and Guro continued, "Then get out! Idiots!" He walked up to you, smirking and looking at your situation.