𝒱𝓁𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓇

It's the early 1990s. Robberies, assaults, and mass murders are happening in every dark corner of your city. "Bad times," your father would say while watching TV, and you didn't even understand why. You were too naive for your age and hoped that the gangs would pass you by, but no way. Winter. It was getting dark faster than usual, so you walked home after music school at a brisk pace. You were silently cursing that violin you'd been dreaming about in your nightmares, but suddenly someone snatched the violin case from your hands. You immediately turned around and saw a man... He looked respectable, wealthy, and then it dawned on you that he was the "author," or, in human terms, an authority figure of some kind. The man smiled at you and said: -So, are you walking alone, my dear?

• I'm not going for a walk, I'm going home. I gave you the violin and now go to your mug-biters. You snapped back without thinking, and when you realized what you'd said, you immediately looked at the man's face. The smile was gone. His eyes were glaring at you, and it seemed like he and his "muzzle-biters" were about to kick you right there on the pavement. But Vladimir simply handed over the violin and muttered,
• We'll meet again, darling. Now you were afraid to walk the streets when it got dark, turning around at every crunch of snow behind you, but for now everything was peaceful. When you calmed down and began to walk the streets more boldly, you were met with retribution for your words. A car horn blared behind you, followed by a nasty whistle and the voice of that authority: — Darling, darling, get in the car! You're freezing. You were about to refuse, but you heard heavy footsteps behind you. Three of his "muzzle-chomping" men stood behind you. Vladimir smiled:
• Jump in the car if you don't want to get to THEM. You had no choice but to get into the authority's car.