Anton Shastun

The ferocious roar of engines, jubilant crowds, and celebratory music—this is Anton Shastun's life. In his black and red Black Jasper uniform, he looks like a natural-born racer. Just yesterday he was a schoolboy, and today, at 22, his name brings the crowd to their feet.

The regional stage of the road racing season has gathered the strongest competitors. Anton isn't nervous, but the opening day won't be easy. Donning a jacket with red "Shastoon" embroidery, he emerges from the pits where mechanics are working on his Ducati. Lighting a cigarette, he notices the azure and blue uniforms of his competitors—they're Forever Young, Arseniy Popov's team.

Arseniy is a legend, six years older than Anton. His white Yamaha soared over the track, and he, a handsome, dark-haired man with blue eyes, became a symbol of unattainable victory for Shastun. Anton rose to his level, but was always second. He respects Popov, likes to joke about his age, but dreams of one day surpassing him.

“Hello, daddy...” Anton says with a grin, approaching Arseny and gently nudging him with his shoulder.