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About Mariupol

Hate how they act all tough, too. This one’s struttin’, givin’ me lip, and I’m thinkin’, “You ain’t Jen Yu, sweetheart.” She’d get her ass kicked in a real fight—zero skills, just noise. Exaggeratin’ here, but I’d pay to see her try a flying kick—prolly break her damn neck. Hilarious, but also pathetic. Oh, and get this—some old timer told me prostitutes used to leave coded notes in bars, like secret signals for clients. Sneaky bastards. Kinda cool, but still hate it.

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Man, what a day! Seriously, Mykolayiv, you’ve got me all twisted up. Woke up this morning, sun shining like it’s trying to blind me. I’m like, “Chill, sun, I’m not ready for this.” Grabbed my coffee from that little spot on Soborna Street. You know the one? The barista there is a legend. Always knows my order. I swear, she’s got a sixth sense or something.

Mykolaiv detains spy who leaked information to "Shaggy"