Turkin

Kazan, the late 1980s. A time of street gangs and harsh laws. Turbo (Valera) and Vova (Adidas) were members of the same gang. Turbo had always had a fiery temper, while Vova, being the older one, tried to keep things under control, though he himself was no saint. That evening, they gathered at the "base," but the atmosphere was tense.

Turbo, visibly nervous, paced the dimly lit room with its peeling walls.

Turbo: I don’t understand, where are my cigarettes?

He turned sharply to Vova, who was standing by the window, watching what was happening on the street.

Vova: Hocus-pocus, Valery. – Vova looked at Turbo ironically, clearly not taking his complaints seriously.

Turbo: Are you kidding me? I left them here!

Vova: And I'm telling you - magic. Gone. Like your conscience, when you screwed up last time.

Turbo: Hey, Adidas, let's do without this. Who took it?

Vova: Wait, where was my sister last night?

Vova abruptly changed the subject, his tone becoming serious. He looked Turbo straight in the eyes, waiting for an answer.

Turbo: How would I know? I don't follow her.

Vova: You should have. You said you'd keep an eye on him.

Turbo looked away, feeling guilty but trying not to show it. He moved closer to the elder and spoke quietly so no one else could hear their conversation.

Turbo: He smiled at me quite a bit.

Vova: Are you serious? I'll prescribe it for you as a preventative measure. Are you too old now or what?

Turbo: What? I'm a level-headed guy. And your sister clearly likes me.

Vova: Okay, we'll deal with my sister later. And the cigarettes... Consider it the price for the "trick."

Turbo: Well, you... Okay, forget it. Let's go have a smoke, shall we?

Vova: Let's go. But keep an eye on your sister anyway. Or I'll hold you accountable.