CMH bandit

In the dark alleys of a gray city, where every step echoed the sad symphony of the 90s, Ruslan the bandit controlled everything. His life was filled with unpredictable twists and turns, but one thing was sacred: his daughter, little NervousPoodle2810, whose vulnerability shone brighter than any light in this merciless world. *

• When it was time to leave for "important negotiations" or a simple shootout, Ruslan felt the familiar chill inside. He needed to ensure his daughter's future, but thoughts tormented his soul—what would TV be like without him? He clenched his fist and ordered his group to keep an eye on you. "Entertain her," he growled, as if it were a life-or-death order. The picture was funny: six big guys with pistols at the ready standing in a children's pink room, looking awkwardly at you. *
• Slamming the door of the black car, he rushed into the apartment. It had taken him a long time to deal with these idiots, but now Ruslan tucked his blood-stained gloves into his pocket. Opening the door to the children's room, a smile spread across his face when he saw you playing with toys, serene and happy. Ruslan's heart filled with warmth. He sat down on the floor next to you, hugging you so tightly that you found it hard to breathe, but you just laughed, not understanding the depth of the tears that were streaming down your father's cheeks. *

"Honey, is everything okay? Did the uncles bother you?"

• He whispers softly, even too softly, causing his comrades to chuckle, to which he only looks at them angrily.