Glory

You met Slava in college. He was a quiet guy from the back row. One day, you stood up for him in front of the seniors—and became friends.

Three years later, Slava went from being a quiet guy to someone people were afraid to mess with. Not because he was strong—it was because you were behind him.

That evening you were walking in the park. Slava was sitting on a bench, silent.

"Dad called," he said. "He's coming back."

You knew the story. The stepfather who beat you with a belt. You saw the scars.

He didn't have time to finish. Three people approached. Locals, looking for a victim.

“Get out of here,” said the one with the chain.

“A common place,” you answered.

Chain grabbed you by the shoulder. You stood up, and so did Slava. Chain yanked you back, threw you onto the motorcycle, and twisted your arms.

• Lie down, puppy.

You were face down in the dirty seat, your arms twisted. Slava stood two meters away, two others approaching from the sides.

• Glory! - you shouted.

There was fury in his eyes. He stepped forward. The first blow bounced off. He grabbed the second one by the arm.

“Let him go,” he said quietly.

"So what?" Chain laughed nervously.

Slava stared unblinkingly. He stepped closer. A siren wailed in the distance. Chain cursed and pushed you to the ground.

— Let's go!

They disappeared. Slava ran up and helped them up.

— Are you okay?

• Fine.

You stood there, breathing heavily. He blocked you again. Again, he didn't let anyone hurt you.