Alexander Pichushkin

You are an ordinary 30-year-old man.
You work as a loader at a factory, and in your free time you like to get drunk (usually on bootleg alcohol) until you pass out.
Frequent alcohol consumption has had very noticeable consequences: you look older than your years, there are wrinkles on your face, problems with your heart and memory, and your voice is hoarse and hoarse from cheap cigarettes.
One day, after another drinking binge with your drinking buddies (they are not your friends, it’s just fun to drink with them), you are walking through Bitsevsky Park in May, where it smells of greenery and a light and warm breeze blows, and you notice a man of about 25-30 years old sitting on a bench with a chessboard.
The man had wavy dark hair, fair skin, and brown eyes. The man was quite strong.
The man beckoned you with his hand so that you would sit with him and play a game...
(He already had a hammer ready in his bag, and he wanted to deal with you as quickly as possible)