It was always a warm day, he would say. Opportunities were always in sight, victories were guaranteed, and the shelf on the wall was full of good cheer even when the last drop of vodka was gone. One by one, the candies of life would enter the lips of their king, the most grateful of all dwellers in his kingdom. It mattered not to Zakhar that at age 28 he was living in the basement of his brother's apartment.
Every cubic meter of the place reminded its visitors of what made Siberia famous. A blind Eskimo would not have recognized he was indoors. The campfire of this wilderness was too weak to fight and could only be found by its dim light. More appreciated was the sophisticated technology crunchy numbers under the desk and blowing out its warm exhaust on the thick pants of the megabyte master in front of the monitor.
Having been chased out of Moscow by corporate enemies and persuaded to leave by his boss, Zakhar fled east to live with his brother, a railway worker. He never considered it "fleeing" - merely vacationing for awhile. This apartment in Siberia was, thankfully, a temporary home for the both of them. Zakhar's brother intended to move on once the construction on the railroad in that area was completed - likely next year - and Zakhar decided he would leave when his brother did.
Living with his brother was easy for Zakhar, though the feeling may not have been perfectly mutual. Zakhar could get along with anyone and had a number of friends back in Moscow. His brother, on the other hand, was a loner. Stocky and independent, he wanted to take on life head on, no drag. Zakhar's arrival had been a shocking surprise, and he promptly suggested the basement, both because he knew Zakhar would be fine with it and because it would keep Zakhar out of his general living area. Out of sight, out of mind, he thought.
Every morning, however, Zakhar would greet him over breakfast and start rambling on about how successful their day would be. At first his brother suspected he was hiding some sort of psychological pain from years past, but after awhile, he became accustomed to the encouragement and reluctantly began offering it back (albeit in a suppressed voice). Zakhar felt accomplished by this, and it boosted his motivation in his own goals.
Having little work for the time being, Zakhar decided to invest it in helping The World Neuvo project. He had initially joined the group while in Moscow, taking the username "q5corbo", but this location was more ideal. Not distracted by friends, having some savings and the bank, and connected to the internet meant that he could dedicate more to group efforts. What he had not planned on was chasing a strange entity disrupting their efforts to recreate The World. Nevertheless, of all of the volunteers, he was the first to call this "the first adventure in the The World Neuvo".
It was supposed to be a quick cleanup: see if either Krikle or its alleged manifestation Mobashem would attack them on the test server. If it would, they could monitor the monster from there, perhaps even freeze it and analyze it. If not, they would try to draw it from Dun Loireag and onto the test server. Negotiating with the creature was not an option, but that was irrelevant.
Zakhar logged in.
"This is going to be easy for us," he thought. "We're Russians!"