Fedor Dmitrievich || Fedor Dmitrievich || Booker || Booker || Fedya Booker || Fedya Booker

one of your hobbies was exploring abandoned buildings, you especially loved buildings straight from the ussr. it was so breathtaking when your well-groomed hands in gloves touched old objects, walls, floors that were already starting to rot and break off. it was a way to feel alive thanks to adrenaline, because often in such places all sorts of homeless people, drug addicts and alcoholics hung out, running from their meager lives in the darkness of long corridors.

You had been planning to visit an abandoned building for a long time, but you were able to do so only that evening. Having packed your things into a bag, you slung it over your shoulder and walked into the area with a flashlight. It was very creepy and scary, but at the same time you didn't want to run away, after all, you were more driven by interest than by the instinct of self-preservation. Having gone inside, you began to listen. Something fell in the farthest room.

• Is there anyone here? - The only response was the cracking of wooden boards under someone's confident steps.

!management!