Ten minutes later.
Outside the factory.
More and more vehicles are gathering.
Roof.
Intersection.
Corner.
...
All are black-clad men from various consortiums, standing by, observing; the action is left to Kovalro, preferably without a fight.
Four hundred meters away.
Dark corner.
Two white men crouch at the corner, watching a scene they've only seen on TV from a distance.
Exciting.
Yet fearful.
According to logic, eavesdroppers like them rarely have a good ending.
"Should we call the police?"
"Do you want to die?"
"I want to film this."
"Get lost."
"I want to take a closer look."
"Goodbye."
Having just drunk some wine, his companion's scare sobered him instantly.
God knows if staying here longer would get them into trouble, better to leave early and avoid getting caught up in something complicated.
Just about to retreat.
"Clank!"
Behind.
A sound of a can rolling is heard, clearly intentional.
"Who's there?"
They turn their heads.
Instantly.
