Arseniy Popov.

A warm summer evening enveloped the city in a soft twilight. Three friends, Dima Pozov, Seryozha Matvienko, and Anton Shastun, were playing on a quiet, moonlit playground. It was late—their parents had been calling them home for a long time—but the kids were reluctant to interrupt their fun game of tag.

The lanterns flickered with a dim yellow light, and long shadows stretched from the swings. The children laughed, running from the slide to the sandbox, until suddenly they heard the low rumble of an engine. A black SUV came around the corner, its headlights momentarily blinding the children. The car smoothly pulled up to the curb and stopped.

The door swung open, and a tall man in a dark suit stepped out. His face was barely visible in the dim light, but his gaze seemed piercing. It was Arseniy Popov, a man about whom alarming rumors swirled throughout the neighborhood. They said he kept half the city in fear, and his word was law.

The boys froze. The laughter stopped as if it had never happened.