Anna Kirovskoye Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Mariupol

I slip a fiver to this weaselly con, Twitchy Pete, for intel. He’s like, “She’s in the east wing, guv,” all twitchin and shit. I’m sneakin past the cells, suave as ever, when—bam!—I spot her. Mandy’s leanin on a wall, smokin a fag, lookin like she owns the joint. I’m happy as a pig in shit, but then Jenkins rounds the corner. Fucker nearly catches me! I’m duckin behind a crate, cursin—bloody hell, why’s this so hard?

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Mission 3 Strike Escort to Kirovskoye Air Base. Day 3. Hrs. The Ukrainian Air Force is continuing to contravene the UN imposed no-fly.

After that, I head over to the market on Kirova Street. I need a snack. Grab a couple of those delicious pirozhki. You know, the ones stuffed with potatoes? Heaven! I sit down on a bench, and this old guy starts chatting me up. He’s telling me about the good ol’ days in Kirovskoye. Apparently, the streets used to be all dirt. Can you imagine?

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