Very, very, very far away, in the distant forest of Siberia...

Petrov was chopping wood outside for the night. His arm wasn't how it used to be, his shaking, trembling hand having some difficulty even chopping one block of wood in half. It was warm and sunny, a far cry to the bone chilling winters they had here. His wife, Monika, sat on a cushioned armchair, her face wrinkled and sullen. Yes, life was difficult here, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

"^Petrov?^" Monika asked with an old, slow tone.

"^What is it?^" Petrov replied.

"^...do you hear that?^"

He paused for a moment from his chopping, resting the axe against the stump. As he wiped his brow from the sweat he perked his ear, listening. Other than the chirping of the birds he heard nothing.

"^Your ears must be playing trick on you aga-^" He stopped himself. Yes he could hear something now, something distant though getting closer by the second... Was that screaming?

Suddenly, like a meteor falling to earth, something crashes through the roof of his hut with explosive ****, sending debris flying every which a way. They both hurry inside, eager to see what exactly just happened. They wave at the dust in the air, and with the unmatched speed of the elderly, they unearth the crashed object.

Or rather, objects.

The scene would look rather strange to anyone, even if they weren't superstitious old Russians away from civilisation. Before them lie two figures, bruised and bleeding from the impact and quite dead, one with several arms sprouting from her body and quite naked, and the other dressed in strange attire with a massive, gargantuan cock limply hanging from her crotch.

"^What the fuck?^" is all they could manage to say. It wasn't often they swore.