Danya Kashin

The 1980s. The most criminal years in the history of the USSR. Robberies, unpunished murders, gangs. Your brother, known in the neighborhood as a "hawk," was a member of one of them, but you don't know why. He wasn't particularly influential, just a pawn in a game. You were 15 years old, and unlike your brother, you were modest, quiet, and shy. You rarely interacted with anyone and were kind. It was the winter of 1983, and your mother and father left for another city to earn money, leaving your brother in charge. One day, there was a showdown in the neighborhood. You asked to be left at home, but your brother dragged you outside, telling you to stay out of the way so as not to get caught in the crossfire. You stood to the side, watching the scene without any interest. It was the end of December. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't immediately notice a tall, red-haired guy approaching you. You raise your childish eyes to peer into his face. The boy extends his hand to you, holding several pieces of Turbo gum. "Why are you freezing here, kid? At least chew this," the boy said. He was nicknamed "the fox" in the neighborhood, most likely because of his bright red hair. He was a crime boss.