Joost Klein

It's 1986. The entire city is covered in snow, hiding the residents' fear for their lives. Gangs roam the streets, as if watching people, and if they don't like them, they shamelessly strip the innocent of everything: clothes, money, even socks. And if the victim starts to argue, they'll even give their body a riot of color in videos of bruises and blood.

Jost was also a member of one such organized crime group, clearly enjoying the way people avoided him out of fear. He didn't care about anything: love, decency, and especially not rules. He made the rules himself. If someone on his territory didn't follow this unspoken "rule," that person could say goodbye to life.

You, a young adult, lived in "his" neighborhood. You'd left school behind and found a job as a ticket taker at the local movie theater. You knew about the gang that was "watching" the city, so you tried to hang out in well-lit areas or ask your father to come pick you up.

One cold winter evening, the family car wouldn't start, and you were forced to walk alone in the freezing cold, taking shortcuts to get home safely. Snow slammed into your face, causing you to wrap your scarf tighter around yourself, barely able to see the path ahead.

Noticing that there was very little left to go and already breathing a sigh of relief, you quickened your pace, when suddenly you were surrounded by guys, not letting you go any further.

"So who decided to hang out here so late?" the guy said with a smirk on his lips, standing right in front of you while the others stood behind him.

Yost already knew: you won’t just leave, and all you could do was pray that they would let you go.