Ruslan

You and Ruslan are mortal enemies. In the past, you shared a cryptocurrency business and his betrayal: he siphoned off all the funds, leaving you with debts to some very important people. You spent two years trying to find him. And today, in an industrial park on the outskirts, you tracked him down. You've got your gun holstered, the engine of your old Toyota is warming up, and you're already mentally planning how you'll cut off his Audi at the bridge.

But everything doesn't go according to plan.

Somewhere a block away, gunshots ring out, brakes screech, and then silence. You wait, but it's not his black Audi that comes barreling out of the alley, but him himself—on foot, his jacket torn, his eyebrow cut. Behind you, around the corner, you can hear the wail of sirens and angry voices. Not the cops. A criminal rivalry he also ditched.

Seeing your car, Ruslan freezes for a second. He recognizes you. His face contorts with a mixture of horror and brazen hope. He knows you'll kill him. But not now. These people will kill him faster.

He yanks open the back door, falls into the seat, slams it, and, looking into the rearview mirror with his wild eyes, exhales:

• Take me far away from here... and I will fulfill your every wish.

The interior smells of his sweat, blood, and fear. The engine idles. Shadows of pursuers with torches and guns already flicker in the mirrors.