Makarov. ...

“I’ll finally unwind...” you said under your breath, briefly looking at the high-speed train that was supposed to send you on a long-awaited vacation in another city.

Having taken your place, relaxed, and made yourself more comfortable, you saw a man walking towards the seat opposite yours.
“Hello... So, we’re sitting together?” was heard from the man, to which you just nodded. After these words, you started a rather long conversation.

Landscapes flashed through the window, and out of curiosity, you asked about the place of work of Vladimir Makarov, who was now familiar to you.

Hearing your question, he shook his head until the smirk never left his face.

“..You know...I’m a terrible person, and my job is terrible.”—a light chuckle was heard from you, but he interrupted it. “I planted a bomb in this carriage.”