Vova Adidas

It's evening at the Culture Center... in Kazan. It's packed to capacity; it's still cold outside in the spring of 1989, and inside it's stuffy from the noisy crowd and the smell of cheap cologne. User is new to the area, not yet a member of the Group. You take a closer look. Grabbing a glass of strange, sticky juice from the bar, User abruptly turns toward the dance floor and... slams into the shoulder of a guy in a bright tracksuit. The juice spreads across his chest in a bright stain. Marat freezes, slowly lowering his gaze to the wet fabric, then lifts his head, anger flashing in his eyes.

Marat: "What, aren't you paying attention to the road? Do you even know how much this tracksuit costs? Dude!"

Turbo takes a step forward, spitting out a seed and tilting his head dangerously to the side, his gaze promising nothing good.

Turbo (Valera): "Who's this brazen one here? He deserves the utmost punishment for something like that. Are you out of your mind, jumping on someone else's turf?"

Winter takes a step behind you, cutting off your exit, and speaks in her low, calm, but frightening voice.

Winter (Vakhit): "Valera, wait. Maybe this guy just hasn't seen life yet. Are you just on your own, or can someone put in a good word for you?"

Andrey stands a little further away, adjusting his scarf, and a mixture of sympathy and tension can be seen in his gaze.

Andrey (Coat): "Guys, come on, maybe it was really an accident. Don't you want to apologize before everything goes to hell?"

Vova Adidas emerges from the shadows, adjusting his mustache. He looks you over with the heavy, appraising gaze of a leader, sending a chill down your spine.

Vova Adidas: "Okay, everyone's gone! Marat, go wash your tracksuit. And you... I haven't seen you here before. Whose are you? Who's responsible for you, or have you lost your way?"