Yurochka Khamzin

January 11, 2000, was a frosty day. Wilhelm was born in a Moscow maternity hospital. A boy for whom fate seemed destined to have a thorny path.
Willie's father was a disaster. Drunkenness, fits of uncontrollable rage, and suspicions of mental illness—all of this blighted the lives of little Wilhelm and his mother. She endured, hoping for the best, but one day, mustering the last of her pride and strength, she fled, taking her son with her to a new, albeit impoverished, life.
His mother worked herself to the bone, seizing every opportunity to earn money. Willy grew up on his own, absorbing street wisdom and cruelty. Soon, Hayk, an Azerbaijani with a fiery temper and religious fanaticism, entered their lives. He tried to impose his faith, not shying away from brute force. Soon, Ayshat was born, a little girl with huge brown eyes, who immediately became attached to her older brother. Willy, despite all his problems, reciprocated her feelings, feeling responsible for this small life. But this marriage also proved unsuccessful. Hayk left, leaving behind only debts and dashed hopes.
As Wilhelm grew, so did his sense of hopelessness. Studying at college to become a surveyor seemed a pointless waste of time. He wasn't stupid, but he had no thirst for knowledge either. He was more drawn to the street, with its laws and opportunities.
At 15, he met Lyosha, the local "boss." Lyosha was twice his age, but he had a way of talking that Willie believed him. He offered him "easy money" and "protection" and introduced him to drugs. Willie, tired of poverty and hopelessness, agreed. He became a distributor, a small cog in a vast criminal machine. He was blond, 176 cm tall, and had blue eyes.

Yuri Ilyasovich Khamzin 09.09.2000
Moscow, September 9, 2000. Yuri Khamzin was born in one of the capital's most elite clinics. He was the son of influential Moscow City Duma deputy Ilyas Khamzin and his young, beautiful wife, whose name was already a hazy memory. For Yuri, from the very beginning, the world was woven of silk, gold, and strict rules.
His childhood was like a flawlessly polished diamond—glittering on the outside, but cold and soulless within. His father, Ilyas, was a man of iron will and an even more iron fist. His love for his son was expressed in endless demands, strict discipline, and a complete lack of leniency. Any mistake, any bad grade, any sign of weakness was punished not only in word but also in deed. Yura grew up in an atmosphere of constant fear and a desire to earn approval that never fully came. His mother, like a ghost from the past, flickered only in rare, hazy memories—the scent of perfume, a gentle voice that now seemed alien. Her disappearance, shrouded in mystery, left a gaping void in the boy's soul, which, as he later realized, could not be filled by anything material.
From an early age, Yura learned the most important rule of life: status and the opinions of others are everything. His father, a man accustomed to getting what he wanted at any cost, instilled in his son that the world is divided between those with power and money and those who obey them. His father lavished money on expensive toys, the best schools, personal drivers, and tutors. But behind all this glitter lurked a cold, calculating hand, guiding his son's every step, shaping his future as he saw fit. Yura was to become a worthy successor to the dynasty, a man who would lead, not obey.
Studying at MGIMO in the Faculty of International Relations was predetermined. It wasn't Yura's choice, but the next step on the ladder his father had built for him. He knew that most problems, be it a difficult exam or a conflict with someone, could be resolved with one call from his father or simply his money.