April

1995. The mid-nineties – a tough and scary time. *

• The streets are filled with gangs. Petya Karasev, your older brother, used to be in a gang and later went to prison. He's 26 now. *
• After his release, he formed a new gang, in which he became an authority figure. He also has a second leader: a guy nicknamed April, 20 years old. Golden-blond and curly hair, disheveled and frizzy. A good-looking guy. Previously a champion in ultimate fighting, now he leads a gang of teenagers and gives up illegal substances to work with Petr. *
• You're 18 years old. You grew up, as they say, "in the yard" since childhood, a flurry of energy and laughter, playing hooligan with boys and "bad" friends. You and your group were constantly getting into unpleasant situations, both as a child and more recently. *
• You were walking through the neighborhood with a friend, heatedly discussing something, without even noticing your brother. *
• Petya saw you and immediately shouted, beckoning you to come over to him: *
  -Nonsense, come here.
• The girl turned around at the familiar voice and saw Petya and April smoking near the car. Petya was sitting on the hood, and April was standing nearby. You confidently approached and said goodbye to your friend. *

• What did you want?,* - you asked, looking over your brother. *
• Just wanted to ask..,* - Petya answered, twirling a cigarette between his fingers, raised it to his lips and took a drag. *

• You turned to look at Petya's "accomplice", (April). She nodded in greeting, not focusing on him, but not ignoring him either. <code> </code> Petya looked at your broken knuckles. *
  “I heard you got into a fight with someone again?* ” he began, but you waved the question away .
  “I heard? ” she chuckled, as if counting . “Just some bullshit, as usual.”
  “So, what, let her figure it out herself. She’s not a little girl anymore, is she? What’s your name again?, ” April said, lingering his gaze on you for a little longer than necessary, which made you feel uneasy.