... in which Lonya and Tolya completely don't understand modern trends, can't appreciate a fashionable look, but are starting to grasp something
It was cold outside. And the apartment building where Tolya lived, from which the guys came out after descending through the dark entranceway, and the surrounding houses were also completely dark. No lights were on in any of the numerous windows. But in the dimness of the faintly glowing sky, a dense yellowish fog creeping through the courtyards was still clearly visible.
Lonya thought he saw some movement behind the veil of this fog, as if strange figures were swaying in the darkness. But Tolya, who had apparently drunk too much of his coffee with cognac, seemed surprisingly alert and cheerful.
"What kind of weather is this?"—he complained, pulling his ridiculous knitted hat in the shape of a tricolor with a pompom deeper over his head and wrapping a long scarf with the inscription "Spartak" around his neck one more time.
"It seems like the power's been cut off throughout the neighborhood,"—muttered Lonya, peering anxiously at the distant lights of the shopping center.
"Aren't you afraid of the dark?"—his friend asked, turning on his smartphone flashlight and continuing in his characteristic mocking tone.—"I was just rereading a book here. It's called 'Crime and Punishment.' Well, after getting wet, that guy there was also scared of every lamppost."
"Shut up, will you?!"
"An axe with you?"—Tolya, who had definitely had too much cognac, persisted.
"What? You forgot the axe?!"
"You're an idiot."
"What? Forgot the axe?!"
"Idiot."
After passing through a couple of dark courtyards, the friends emerged onto a small street leading directly to the shopping center building. It was still deserted all around; even the figures Lonya thought he'd seen disappeared.
"Don't you think this is strange? Like everyone has died out..."—the student asked his friend.
"What's strange about it? Do you think anyone likes wandering around in the dark? They're sitting over there,"—Tolya nodded toward the bright structure of the shopping center,—"watching movies. Eating at Burger King. Well, someone might be sitting at home screwing each other."
"Why specifically screwing each other?"—Leonid sincerely wondered at this detail in the description of their leisure time.
"Because they're fags,"—Tolya logically remarked and immediately added philosophically.—"Well, maybe not exactly screwing... But still fags."
Deciding not to ask any more questions so as not to develop the topic of sex, Lonya somehow remembered Kristinka, who decided to leave him after their first time. He never carried out his little revenge and didn't post her intimate video in the Telegram chat. "Oh well, let her screw herself with her Petrov now,"—Lonya nobly decided, mentally already abandoning his plan, and suddenly repeated his friend's logic.—"He's a fag anyway."
"There's one right over there!"—Tolya suddenly blurted out, as if hearing his thoughts, pointing at a man walking toward them wearing a dirty ginger-colored coat, tight gray trousers, and a bright yellow hat.
"Just a regular hipster,"—Lonya calmly remarked.
"I don't like them."
"Well, don't bother him."
"No...—Tolyan said quietly and already very peacefully when the man approached closer.—Someone already bothered him."
This turned out to be a rather fair observation, because the man indeed looked as if he had been in a serious fight. One sleeve of his coat was half torn off, his clothes and even his hat were covered in blood, and his face was badly bruised.
The man staggered past the friends, seemingly not noticing them. But when he reached their backs, he suddenly turned sharply, twisting his neck unnaturally, and, letting out some kind of inhuman muffled scream, grabbed Tolya by the jacket with one hand. Tolya froze for a few seconds, clearly not expecting to encounter danger in the form of this frail-looking man. But the man, gripping Tolya tightly, continued pulling him toward himself and hissing, baring his teeth like an animal.
The slightly tipsy student jerked violently and, freeing himself, punched the repulsive, contorted face with all his might. In the next moment, he felt his fist hit something completely lifeless, cold and slightly sticky, like a piece of thawed meat. The hipster let go of him, but, receiving another blow in pursuit, still managed to stay on his feet.
"You broke his jaw!"—shouted Leonid, noticing that the attacker's mouth was twisted and remained in that position.
"What the hell do you mean, I broke his jaw?! Are you immortal or something?!"—Tolya roared furiously, addressing the attacker more than his friend.
The latter, however, did not intend to stop. Suddenly lunging forward and almost jumping ahead with his whole body, he grabbed Tolya with both hands, knocked him down onto the pavement, and bit into the thick Spartak scarf with his teeth, clearly aiming for the neck.
Leonid rushed to help his friend and grabbed the attacker by the coat, trying to pull him away from Tolya, but the man clung tightly to his victim. Tolya beat wildly at the snarling hipster's torso and head, although it had no effect. Finally, Leonid kicked him hard in the side with his foot and literally pulled him off his already gasping friend.
The hipster fell backward and turned toward the student, baring his bloody mouth. This eerily resembled the recent scene in the communal kitchen, and this memory made Leonid break out in a cold sweat. For a second, he imagined how this mouth would pounce on him, and he had absolutely no weapon at hand.
Suddenly, a muffled hum came from somewhere above. One of the powerful lighting lamps installed around the perimeter of the shopping center roof flickered and exploded into fragments with a loud bang. A bluish electric arc flashed and went out, and sparks began to fall.
At that moment, something strange happened. The attacker's angry, bloodied face suddenly became calm, almost serene; his bulging eyes rolled back, closing slightly under relaxed eyelids, and he collapsed onto the ground like a felled tree.
Tolya, on the contrary, got up on his feet, groaning.
"That bastard almost bit my throat! Son of a bitch!"—he angrily kicked the lying body.
"Yeah, enough already,"—Leonid stopped him, confused.—"He seems to be... dead."
"What do you mean?!"—Tolya leaned over the lying hipster, turned up the collar of his coat, and felt for a pulse on his neck.—"There's no pulse... He's freezing cold, like a corpse."
"He is a corpse,"—the student calmly remarked, suddenly realizing what was happening.—"Look at him."
Under the coat of the body lying on the asphalt was something terrible. The sweatshirt, soaked in blood, was torn open across the abdomen. There was a huge hole, nearly the width of the torso, filled with blood, from which intestines and fragments of internal organs were visible.
"What the hell?! He was just..."—Tolya could only manage to say.
"I have no idea,"—Leonid muttered,—"but it seems like the same thing happened to Pavlik."
A piercing female scream coming from somewhere inside the shopping center building brought the guys out of their stupor. Leaving their reflections for later, both rushed there.