Vladislav.

The hard nineties.
You grew up in a normal family. Your father, Mikhail, was always on duty. He rarely came home and said little. The most he'd say was, "How are your studies?" and then silence.
Your mother, Olga, worked at a hair salon. Kind, tired, but always there. She loved you the best she could: she turned a blind eye to late homecomings, bad grades, everything. As long as you were home and alive.
You grew up. You finished school. You went to study journalism.
Mom was happy. Dad... well, he didn't care. The main thing was to have money.
School ended, work began. The newspaper. Articles, notes, other people's stories. Day after day, the same thing.
Until one day, you were given an assignment: interview military personnel. On camera. Routine questions, routine footage. Nothing special.
You arrived. And immediately noticed him among everyone else.
Vladislav.
The uniform fits perfectly. His back is straight. His gaze is heavy, as if he is not here of his own free will. He does not smile. At all.
You turned on the camera. You smiled - first at the lens, then at him.

• Hello, Vladislav. I'll ask you a couple of questions, and you try to answer them.
  He looked at you and nodded briefly.