Daniil Koretsky tattooed skin. Danil Koretsky: Tattooed skin
Danil Koretsky
tattooed skin
- Come on, Karzuby, give the sucker anesthesia! Will know how to live on chanterelles!
A street fight frightens and attracts at the same time, so onlookers usually surround it in such a way that, on the one hand, they don’t miss anything interesting, and on the other, they don’t get hit in the face. The diameter of the ring is directly proportional to the feeling of confidence in one's own safety. Now, in the poorly lit square on Frunzenskaya Embankment, a dozen and a half passers-by kept about five meters from the developing action, thereby demonstrating the absence of much fear and the rather ordinary nature of what was happening.
It really was a common thing.
Four drunken degenerates - one of those who are called "cormorants", or "horn throwers", or something worse in the zone, beat up a well-informed house peasant who imprudently jumped out, to his own misfortune, at dusk from behind a reliable steel door into the stone jungle the capital - either to the store, or to the pharmacy, or for some other everyday need. More precisely, he was beaten by one - in a pink Swede dressed to the navel and with crumbled front teeth. Two of his buddies rubbed together, grinning wickedly and sometimes giving the victim a kick or a poke. The lanky one was clearly in charge of this company, he stood a little to the side, enjoyed the spectacle and lashed out to the best of his ability.
- Make him a clown, beat off the pamarks! Gee-gee-gee...
The peasant was clearly not adapted to such alterations: he did not try to resist or run away, he only awkwardly covered his broken face with his hands and backed away towards the river, inadvertently moving away from people whose help, obviously, he did not hope at all.
Indeed, among the curious, there were clearly no people who wanted to come to his rescue. But suddenly the number of spectators increased. Shouts and blows attracted the attention of a tall, fair-haired guy, walking along the sidewalk with a preoccupied look, he changed the route and entered the semi-darkness of the square.
A blue shirt with long, unseasonable sleeves was tight around broad shoulders and a triangular back, jeans and white trainers completed the outfit. The guy was supposed to please women - a blond of the Nordic type, a high forehead, developed superciliary arches, a powerful straight nose with a slightly deformed bridge of the nose, a wide, dimpled chin. The appearance of Superman from a Hollywood movie, the embodiment of masculinity and strength.
But he also did not want to interfere: unlike on-screen heroes, real supermen have enough problems of their own. Glancing at the beating scene, he grimaced and turned to leave.
After another blow, the man fell. The guy in jeans walked slowly towards Komsomolsky Prospekt and did not see it.
- Lubricate the attic, Kartouby, and stroke the cumpol! the long man squealed in delight. Unlike a dozen onlookers shifting from one foot to the other, he was clearly not afraid of anything.
And the blonde didn't like it. He winced again and turned around. His movements became quick and purposeful. Pushing a big guy with a plastic bag in his hands, the guy cut through the circle of curious people and actively intervened in the course of events.
- Stop, jackals! he barked, lightly tossing Kartouby aside. "Get out of here quickly while you're safe!"
The guy was not only athletically complex, but decisive and self-confident. Cold blue eyes in a hard squint intently examined the opponents. It was clear that this was no ordinary layman. This is how the owner, the leader, the bear in the wolf pack behaves, and if the attackers were sober, they would most likely take the advice. But they were drunk, besides, they were on their own territory, and the unknown, despite his impudence and strength, was a stranger here. Three pairs of cloudy eyes stared inquiringly at the elder.
- Look, boys, he is tired of living! - the lanky one snarled the iron "fixes". A bony, veined hand dipped into his pocket and slid back out with dangerous dexterity. There was a click of a “blowout”, a sharply sharpened blade dimly flashed.
- Knife! Knife! – the spectators shied away in fright, expanding the ring. The action has taken a completely different, dangerous track.
- Hide, bitch, I'll kill you! - the stranger said softly, but the lanky one, spitting contemptuously, sat down on his legs wide apart and put the knife in front of him, either showing skills for this kind of work, or imitating the heroes of cool action movies.
The beaten man, because of whom the fuss flared up, pressed himself into the ground, crawled to the side. But no one paid any attention to him.
- Who are you pulling on, shameful wolf?! - Karzuby's friend hysterically pulled the collar of a greasy checkered shirt, buttons flying off the asphalt rattled like peas. The dead light of the only working lantern highlighted the tattoos on his sunken chest: a flying dove and a dagger stuck in a stump, entwined with a snake. Karzuby stealthily walked around the impudent fraer on the left. The fourth, with a smallpox-scarred face, habitually pressed a razor blade between his fingers and began to go behind his back on the right.
Caudla acted in a coordinated manner, it was felt that she had a fair amount of experience in such matters and had many bloody victories on her account. But now something is broken. Karzuby and pockmarked unexpectedly found themselves in front of each other and against their will continued to move, their heads colliding with force, and the razor struck the wrong person at all: Karzuby howled, grabbed the hollow Swede's hand, the pink fabric slowly swelled red.
The leader jumped to the rescue, but barely had time to withdraw the blade: instead of the enemy, a pockmarked sidekick, flying backwards, appeared in front of him. In the next second, two bodies collided with a crash and knocked down skittles fell into the bushes. From the outside, it seemed that they were doing all these outlandish feints on their own, of their own free will, and the fair-haired daredevil only assisted: helped, held, directed.
But the tattooed one stood close, saw everything and realized that they were stuck in a dead end. It was his turn: the blond boy took a quick gliding step, rapidly closing the distance. The most reasonable thing was to tear the claws, but then you won’t justify yourself to your own people. Yes, and to remain whole in this situation is zapad ...
- A-a-a-a! he yelled terribly and sat down, frantically rummaging around with his hands under him: at least a stone, at least a stick, at least a piece of pipe, at least something! As luck would have it, nothing came across, the fingers convulsively scraped along the ground and, shrinking, grabbed the air.
The impact of the white sneaker almost drove the blue dove into the chest and knocked the thug upside down. Now the stranger turned to Karzub, who was cradling his open hand.
- Now, king of the bucket, I'll make you a clown!
He stepped back.
- Who are you? Cum! Then a misunderstanding came out ... Whose are you from?
The answer was a brutal kick in the stomach. With a guttural sob, Karzuby bent over, but the white sneaker in the same move with a crunch picked him up under the jaw and straightened him, however, for some reason he did not stand, but crashed back to the ground.
The lighthead slid lightly to the side, jerked his left elbow back, and turned over his right shoulder. Done purely reflexively, this cunning maneuver saved his life.
Because the leader and the pockmarked man managed to come to his senses and rushed from behind, the blade of the knife had already rapaciously aimed at the left side of the impudent stranger's waist, and only twenty centimeters separated the cold, sharp steel from the tender renal parenchyma. With a preemptive consciousness, the long one had already seen the consequences of a particularly sophisticated thieves' blow: wounding a kidney causes a sharp drop in blood pressure and instant death. But once again, nothing came of it - the tip of the miscarriage only ripped open the shirt that had come out of the jeans, and the stone elbow resounded into the sagging ribs, choking his breath and almost stopping his heart. The bony hand unclenched, the knife clanged on the asphalt.
Pockmarked suddenly found himself face to face with the enemy, tried to grab him by the throat, but his hands slipped from his powerful neck and clutched at the collar of his shirt with a death grip. Cold blue eyes were very close, they hypnotized and inspired animal horror, the pockmarked man realized that he was gone, and limply went limp, instantly losing his aggressiveness and losing his ability to resist. Terrible eyes sharply moved into the smallpox-pitted face, the bulging forehead dullly hit the bridge of the nose - as if on the Easter holiday a painted cue-ball egg broke through a thinner shell. The pock-marked one leaned back, but did not unclench his wrists - the stranger's shirt burst with a crack, gnarled fingers dragged him along, and the blue fabric covered the fallen physiognomy of the fallen man, as if someone had taken care of the deceased.
The guy again sharply turned around and with a strong boxing hook knocked down the lopsided, greedily gasping leader. Less than a minute had passed since the start of the fight. Three once formidable hooligans were lying in shapeless sacks on the asphalt patch. The fourth one, tattooed, managed to get up and swayed slightly on trembling legs, completely demoralized and incapable of further fight. Accustomed to getting things done, the light-headed one stepped towards him. He backed away and mumbled incoherently, bulging eyes staring at the opponent who remained naked to the waist. Bloodied lips trembled, a splayed hand rose to obscure his face.
03
Apr
2013
Tattooed skin (Koretsky Danil)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 192kbps
Koretsky Danil
Release year: 2013
Genre: Detective
Publisher: do-it-yourself audiobook
Artist: Mrak79
Duration: 14:31:57
Description: As a child, he realized that brute force decides more in life than a kind word. When drafted into the army, chance threw him into a special forces brigade, where this conviction was strengthened, and the ability to use force in various ways increased significantly. The overthrow of the regime in Africa, the arrests of major government officials, buying up foreign passports from pickpockets - this is not a complete list of cases that he had to complete. They changed his name, biography, habits and even appearance, thickly covering his body with tattoos. Volkov - Wolf - Painted became a completely different person. And, ultimately, the tattoos on his body determined his fate.
The audiobook contains profanity.
2. Painted
3. On the trail of the Devil
16
May
2011
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Author: Honore de Balzac
Release year: 2006
Genre: foreign classics
Publisher: MediaKniga
Artist: Mikhail Rozenberg
Duration: 10:49:00
Description: Shagreen Skin is one of the most famous and beloved by readers of the novels of the French writer Honore de Balzac (1799 - 1850). The young man lost at the casino and decided to take his own life. He wandered around the city, waiting for the evening, and wandered into an antique shop. The owner of the shop, seeing the state of the young man, offered him to buy a talisman - a piece of shagreen leather with Solomon's seal. The inscription translated means ...
24
May
2015
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Author: Honore de Balzac
Release year: 2014
Genre: Classic
Publisher: You can't buy anywhere
Artist: Ternovsky Evgeniy
Duration: 13:21:14
Description: Can you win if you make a deal with the devil? This question has never left indifferent both writers and readers. If you are young, in love and ambitious, but you know that all your dreams are doomed due to lack of money, then is it possible to resist the temptation to pay with the term of your own life for the fulfillment of desires? The young man lost at the casino and decided to take his own life. He wandered around...
14
but I
2013
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 128kbps
Author: Honore de Balzac
Release year: 2006
Genre: classic
Publisher: Audiobook
Artist: Valery Zakhariev
Duration: 12:18:36
Description: Honore de Balzac entered the history of literature as the creator of The Human Comedy, a unique artistic encyclopedia of the life of France in the 19th century. The most significant and striking work of this epic is the novel Shagreen Skin. When you are young, in love and ambitious, but you know that all your dreams are doomed due to lack of money, is it possible to resist the temptation to pay off the term itself ...
14
but I
2013
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 128kbps
Author: Honore de Balzac
Release year: 2013
Genre: classic
Publisher: ARDIS
Artist: Dmitry Orgin
Duration: 12:25:40
Description: Shagreen Skin is a philosophical novel by the famous French writer Honore de Balzac from the Human Comedy series. The protagonist, a young aristocrat Raphael de Valantin, left without a single sou in his pocket, decides to commit suicide. Wandering aimlessly through the streets of Paris, he wanders into an antiques shop, where the old owner offers him a magical talisman - a shagreen patch that can fulfill any desire. ...
29
May
2013
Shagreen leather (Honoré de Balzac)
Format: audio performance, MP3, 128kbps
Author: Honore de Balzac
Release year: 2010
Genre: Romance, classic
Publisher: Radio Russia
Artist: see below
Duration: 06:40:56
Description: A deal with the devil - this question was of interest to more than one writer and not one of them has already answered it. What if everything can be turned in such a way that you will win? What if this time Fate smiles at you? What if you become the only one who manages to outwit the forces of evil? .. So the hero of the novel "Shagreen Skin" thought. He lost at the casino and was ready to take his own life, when suddenly fate gave him a ...
10
mar
2012
Leather. X-Files The X-Files (Ben Metzrich)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 64kbps
Author: Ben Metzrich
Release year: 2011
Genre fiction
Publisher: Project SViD - Tales for Adults and Children
Artist: Oleg Shubin
Duration: 06:25:58
Description: Another book about world-famous FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dan Scully. In my personal rating, it is somewhere in the middle, along with Anderson's Epicenter ahead of Charles Grant's Goblins, but inferior to Ruins, Antibodies and Bloody Wind. Professor Perry Stanton enters one of the hospitals with a severe burn of the thigh. A quiet, peaceful man who never had trouble with the law. Op...
05
aug
2016
Star Platoon-4. Steel skin (Nikolai Andreev)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 96
Author: Nikolai Andreev
Release year: 2016
Genre: Fighting fantasy
Publisher: You can't buy anywhere
Artist: Andrey Vasenev
Duration: 11:08:58
Processed by: shniferson
Description: Tino Ayato, Oles Khrabrov and Jacques de Creignan, risking their lives, were playing their own political game. They made a secret pact with the Morsvillian clans of hetaerae and three-eyes. Now the soldiers could pass through the city without hindrance. Strange, inexplicable visions forced the Russian to start searching for an ancient Olivian relic - the Conzor Cross. The young man is not very...
19
june
2013
Leather for the drum, or the Seville communion (Arturo Perez-Reverte)
Format: audiobook, MP3, 96kbps
Author: Arturo Perez-Reverte
Release year: 2013
Genre: Romance
Publisher: You can't buy anywhere
Artist: Vorobyova Irina
Duration: 20:03:01
Description: Arturo Perez-Reverte (b. 1951) is a contemporary Spanish writer whose novels, written in the intellectual detective genre, brought him worldwide fame. Created in the last decade of the 20th century, they have already won the hearts of millions of readers. A talented prose writer, a brilliant connoisseur of history and art, a master of detective intrigue, Perez-Reverte constantly throws new and new riddles into the flames of our...
Bitrate: 64kbps
Sampling frequency: 44100 Hz
Total duration: 07:42:36
Description: If you want to know the details of the puzzling cases solved and unsolved by a restless couple of FBI special agents, if you want to look behind the scenes of the crime, if you want to look at what happened through the eyes of not only people, but also paranormal creatures, read on...
Danil Koretsky
tattooed skin
- Come on, Karzuby, give the sucker anesthesia! Will know how to live on chanterelles!
A street fight frightens and attracts at the same time, so onlookers usually surround it in such a way that, on the one hand, they don’t miss anything interesting, and on the other, they don’t get hit in the face. The diameter of the ring is directly proportional to the feeling of confidence in one's own safety. Now, in the poorly lit square on Frunzenskaya Embankment, a dozen and a half passers-by kept about five meters from the developing action, thereby demonstrating the absence of much fear and the rather ordinary nature of what was happening.
It really was a common thing.
Four drunken degenerates - one of those who are called "cormorants", or "horn throwers", or something worse in the zone, beat up a well-informed house peasant who imprudently jumped out, to his own misfortune, at dusk from behind a reliable steel door into the stone jungle the capital - either to the store, or to the pharmacy, or for some other everyday need. More precisely, he was beaten by one - in a pink Swede dressed to the navel and with crumbled front teeth. Two of his buddies rubbed together, grinning wickedly and sometimes giving the victim a kick or a poke. The lanky one was clearly in charge of this company, he stood a little to the side, enjoyed the spectacle and lashed out to the best of his ability.
- Make him a clown, beat off the pamarks! Gee-gee-gee...
The peasant was clearly not adapted to such alterations: he did not try to resist or run away, he only awkwardly covered his broken face with his hands and backed away towards the river, inadvertently moving away from people whose help, obviously, he did not hope at all.
Indeed, among the curious, there were clearly no people who wanted to come to his rescue. But suddenly the number of spectators increased. Shouts and blows attracted the attention of a tall, fair-haired guy, walking along the sidewalk with a preoccupied look, he changed the route and entered the semi-darkness of the square.
A blue shirt with long, unseasonable sleeves was tight around broad shoulders and a triangular back, jeans and white trainers completed the outfit. The guy was supposed to please women - a blond of the Nordic type, a high forehead, developed superciliary arches, a powerful straight nose with a slightly deformed bridge of the nose, a wide, dimpled chin. The appearance of Superman from a Hollywood movie, the embodiment of masculinity and strength.
But he also did not want to interfere: unlike on-screen heroes, real supermen have enough problems of their own. Glancing at the beating scene, he grimaced and turned to leave.
After another blow, the man fell. The guy in jeans walked slowly towards Komsomolsky Prospekt and did not see it.
- Lubricate the attic, Kartouby, and stroke the cumpol! the long man squealed in delight. Unlike a dozen onlookers shifting from one foot to the other, he was clearly not afraid of anything.
And the blonde didn't like it. He winced again and turned around. His movements became quick and purposeful. Pushing a big guy with a plastic bag in his hands, the guy cut through the circle of curious people and actively intervened in the course of events.
- Stop, jackals! he barked, lightly tossing Kartouby aside. "Get out of here quickly while you're safe!"
The guy was not only athletically complex, but decisive and self-confident. Cold blue eyes in a hard squint intently examined the opponents. It was clear that this was no ordinary layman. This is how the owner, the leader, the bear in the wolf pack behaves, and if the attackers were sober, they would most likely take the advice. But they were drunk, besides, they were on their own territory, and the unknown, despite his impudence and strength, was a stranger here. Three pairs of cloudy eyes stared inquiringly at the elder.
Books enlighten the soul, uplift and strengthen a person, awaken the best aspirations in him, sharpen his mind and soften his heart.
William Thackeray, English satirist
The book is a great power.
Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, Soviet revolutionary
Without books, we now can neither live, nor fight, nor suffer, nor rejoice and win, nor confidently move towards that reasonable and wonderful future in which we unshakably believe.
Many thousands of years ago, in the hands of the best representatives of mankind, the book became one of the main weapons of their struggle for truth and justice, and it was this weapon that gave these people terrible strength.
Nikolai Rubakin, Russian bibliologist, bibliographer.
The book is a tool. But not only. It introduces people to the life and struggle of other people, makes it possible to understand their experiences, their thoughts, their aspirations; it makes it possible to compare, understand the environment and transform it.
Stanislav Strumilin, Academician of the USSR Academy of Sciences
There is no better remedy for refreshing the mind than reading the ancient classics; as soon as you take one of them in your hands, even if for half an hour, you immediately feel refreshed, lightened and cleansed, uplifted and strengthened, as if refreshed by bathing in a pure spring.
Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher
Those who were not familiar with the creations of the ancients lived without knowing beauty.
Georg Hegel, German philosopher
No failures of history and deaf spaces of time are able to destroy human thought, fixed in hundreds, thousands and millions of manuscripts and books.
Konstantin Paustovsky, Russian Soviet writer
The book is magical. The book changed the world. It contains the memory of the human race, it is the mouthpiece of human thought. A world without a book is a world of savages.
Nikolai Morozov, creator of modern scientific chronology
Books are the spiritual testament of one generation to another, the advice of a dying old man to a young man who begins to live, an order transmitted by sentries going on vacation to sentries who take his place.
Without books, human life is empty. The book is not only our friend, but also our constant, eternal companion.
Demyan Bedny, Russian Soviet writer, poet, publicist
The book is a powerful tool of communication, labor, struggle. It equips man with the experience of the life and struggle of mankind, expands his horizon, gives him knowledge with which he can make the forces of nature serve him.
Nadezhda Krupskaya, Russian revolutionary, Soviet party, public and cultural figure.
Reading good books is a conversation with the best people of the past, and, moreover, such a conversation when they tell us only their best thoughts.
René Descartes, French philosopher, mathematician, physicist and physiologist
Reading is one of the sources of thinking and mental development.
Vasily Sukhomlinsky, an outstanding Soviet teacher and innovator.
Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body.
Joseph Addison, English poet and satirist
A good book is like a conversation with an intelligent person. The reader receives from her knowledge and generalization of reality, the ability to understand life.
Alexei Tolstoy, Russian Soviet writer and public figure
Don't forget that the most colossal tool of all-round education is reading.
Alexander Herzen, Russian publicist, writer, philosopher
Without reading there is no real education, there is not and cannot be any taste, or a word, or a multilateral breadth of understanding; Goethe and Shakespeare are equal to the whole university. Reading man survives centuries.
Alexander Herzen, Russian publicist, writer, philosopher
Here you will find audiobooks by Russian, Soviet, Russian and foreign writers on various topics! We have collected for you masterpieces of literature from and. Also on the site there are audio books with poems and poets, lovers of detectives and action movies, audio books will find interesting audio books for themselves. We can offer women, and for women, we will periodically offer fairy tales and audio books from the school curriculum. Children will also be interested in audio books about. We also have something to offer for lovers: audiobooks of the Stalker, Metro 2033 ... series, and much more from. Who wants to tickle his nerves: go to the section
Danil Koretsky
tattooed skin
- Come on, Karzuby, give the sucker anesthesia! Will know how to live on chanterelles!
A street fight frightens and attracts at the same time, so onlookers usually surround it in such a way that, on the one hand, they don’t miss anything interesting, and on the other, they don’t get hit in the face. The diameter of the ring is directly proportional to the feeling of confidence in one's own safety. Now, in the poorly lit square on Frunzenskaya Embankment, a dozen and a half passers-by kept about five meters from the developing action, thereby demonstrating the absence of much fear and the rather ordinary nature of what was happening.
It really was a common thing.
Four drunken degenerates - one of those who are called "cormorants", or "horn throwers", or something worse in the zone, beat up a well-informed house peasant who imprudently jumped out, to his own misfortune, at dusk from behind a reliable steel door into the stone jungle the capital - either to the store, or to the pharmacy, or for some other everyday need. More precisely, he was beaten by one - in a pink Swede dressed to the navel and with crumbled front teeth. Two of his buddies rubbed together, grinning wickedly and sometimes giving the victim a kick or a poke. The lanky one was clearly in charge of this company, he stood a little to the side, enjoyed the spectacle and lashed out to the best of his ability.
- Make him a clown, beat off the pamarks! Gee-gee-gee...
The peasant was clearly not adapted to such alterations: he did not try to resist or run away, he only awkwardly covered his broken face with his hands and backed away towards the river, inadvertently moving away from people whose help, obviously, he did not hope at all.
Indeed, among the curious, there were clearly no people who wanted to come to his rescue. But suddenly the number of spectators increased. Shouts and blows attracted the attention of a tall, fair-haired guy, walking along the sidewalk with a preoccupied look, he changed the route and entered the semi-darkness of the square.
A blue shirt with long, unseasonable sleeves was tight around broad shoulders and a triangular back, jeans and white trainers completed the outfit. The guy was supposed to please women - a blond of the Nordic type, a high forehead, developed superciliary arches, a powerful straight nose with a slightly deformed bridge of the nose, a wide, dimpled chin. The appearance of Superman from a Hollywood movie, the embodiment of masculinity and strength.
But he also did not want to interfere: unlike on-screen heroes, real supermen have enough problems of their own. Glancing at the beating scene, he grimaced and turned to leave.
After another blow, the man fell. The guy in jeans walked slowly towards Komsomolsky Prospekt and did not see it.
- Lubricate the attic, Kartouby, and stroke the cumpol! the long man squealed in delight. Unlike a dozen onlookers shifting from one foot to the other, he was clearly not afraid of anything.
And the blonde didn't like it. He winced again and turned around. His movements became quick and purposeful. Pushing a big guy with a plastic bag in his hands, the guy cut through the circle of curious people and actively intervened in the course of events.
- Stop, jackals! he barked, lightly tossing Kartouby aside. "Get out of here quickly while you're safe!"
The guy was not only athletically complex, but decisive and self-confident. Cold blue eyes in a hard squint intently examined the opponents. It was clear that this was no ordinary layman. This is how the owner, the leader, the bear in the wolf pack behaves, and if the attackers were sober, they would most likely take the advice. But they were drunk, besides, they were on their own territory, and the unknown, despite his impudence and strength, was a stranger here. Three pairs of cloudy eyes stared inquiringly at the elder.
- Look, boys, he is tired of living! - the lanky one snarled the iron "fixes". A bony, veined hand dipped into his pocket and slid back out with dangerous dexterity. There was a click of a “blowout”, a sharply sharpened blade dimly flashed.
- Knife! Knife! – the spectators shied away in fright, expanding the ring. The action has taken a completely different, dangerous track.
- Hide, bitch, I'll kill you! - the stranger said softly, but the lanky one, spitting contemptuously, sat down on his legs wide apart and put the knife in front of him, either showing skills for this kind of work, or imitating the heroes of cool action movies.
The beaten man, because of whom the fuss flared up, pressed himself into the ground, crawled to the side. But no one paid any attention to him.
- Who are you pulling on, shameful wolf?! - Karzuby's friend hysterically pulled the collar of a greasy checkered shirt, buttons flying off the asphalt rattled like peas. The dead light of the only working lantern highlighted the tattoos on his sunken chest: a flying dove and a dagger stuck in a stump, entwined with a snake. Karzuby stealthily walked around the impudent fraer on the left. The fourth, with a smallpox-scarred face, habitually pressed a razor blade between his fingers and began to go behind his back on the right.
Caudla acted in a coordinated manner, it was felt that she had a fair amount of experience in such matters and had many bloody victories on her account. But now something is broken. Karzuby and pockmarked unexpectedly found themselves in front of each other and against their will continued to move, their heads colliding with force, and the razor struck the wrong person at all: Karzuby howled, grabbed the hollow Swede's hand, the pink fabric slowly swelled red.
The leader jumped to the rescue, but barely had time to withdraw the blade: instead of the enemy, a pockmarked sidekick, flying backwards, appeared in front of him. In the next second, two bodies collided with a crash and knocked down skittles fell into the bushes. From the outside, it seemed that they were doing all these outlandish feints on their own, of their own free will, and the fair-haired daredevil only assisted: helped, held, directed.
But the tattooed one stood close, saw everything and realized that they were stuck in a dead end. It was his turn: the blond boy took a quick gliding step, rapidly closing the distance. The most reasonable thing was to tear the claws, but then you won’t justify yourself to your own people. Yes, and to remain whole in this situation is zapad ...
- A-a-a-a! he yelled terribly and sat down, frantically rummaging around with his hands under him: at least a stone, at least a stick, at least a piece of pipe, at least something! As luck would have it, nothing came across, the fingers convulsively scraped along the ground and, shrinking, grabbed the air.
The impact of the white sneaker almost drove the blue dove into the chest and knocked the thug upside down. Now the stranger turned to Karzub, who was cradling his open hand.
- Now, king of the bucket, I'll make you a clown!
He stepped back.
- Who are you? Cum! Then a misunderstanding came out ... Whose are you from?
The answer was a brutal kick in the stomach. With a guttural sob, Karzuby bent over, but the white sneaker in the same move with a crunch picked him up under the jaw and straightened him, however, for some reason he did not stand, but crashed back to the ground.
The lighthead slid lightly to the side, jerked his left elbow back, and turned over his right shoulder. Done purely reflexively, this cunning maneuver saved his life.
Because the leader and the pockmarked man managed to come to his senses and rushed from behind, the blade of the knife had already rapaciously aimed at the left side of the impudent stranger's waist, and only twenty centimeters separated the cold, sharp steel from the tender renal parenchyma. With a preemptive consciousness, the long one had already seen the consequences of a particularly sophisticated thieves' blow: wounding a kidney causes a sharp drop in blood pressure and instant death. But once again, nothing came of it - the tip of the miscarriage only ripped open the shirt that had come out of the jeans, and the stone elbow resounded into the sagging ribs, choking his breath and almost stopping his heart. The bony hand unclenched, the knife clanged on the asphalt.
