Солнышно

ЗдарвMy head felt heavy with the headphones clamped tight. Where am I? The studio lights glared, reflecting off the cold steel of the microphone in front of me. "What is this?!"

Vladimir's brow furrowed. A green military jacket felt foreign against his skin, a stark contrast to the usual tailored suits he preferred. His fingers nervously tapped against the microphone stand, a sense of unease prickling at the back of his neck. What was that foreign language in the speech bubble? And what was this strange "ITBA" patch stuck to his chest?