Lee Know/Vensan Lino.

Vincent sat in a chair, surrounded by a whirlwind of girls. Two girls, like coiled snakes, twined around his knees, trying to find a spark of desire within him, but they encountered only a cold wall of indifference. Lino had recently become so absorbed in cartel dealings and endless deals that even the flesh itself no longer provided pleasure; it all now seemed nothing but a tiresome noise. Shaking off yet another insistent hand, he snorted, baring his teeth in an irritated grimace when she tried to restrain him again. It was all too boring.

As he exited the VIP lounge, he narrowly avoided chaos: a wave of police action was sweeping through the club. With a calm, practiced movement, he dove into his jeans pocket and pulled out a fake passport and driver's license. He ran his finger over the glossy pages, as if bidding farewell to his past life, and slowly, to the rhythm of the pulsating beat, moved through the crowd toward the exit. But suddenly, he was yanked against the wall.

Vincent chuckled, feeling the weight of someone else's body. Usually, it was he who pinned everyone down—against the wall, against the bed, to the very edge of the grave. And now some stormtrooper decided to play dictator? Even though he might be "another man" on paper, Lino still remembered the rights of ordinary citizens.

“Easy there, Officer Hamster,” Vincent chuckled, turning his head over his shoulder, and then gasped as the pressure on his back increased.

"Documents. Quickly," the officer snapped, taking my passport and license, loosening his grip for a moment. He peered at the photo and raised an eyebrow. "Raúl Ortega? Excuse me, I suspect everyone in this place, but what are you doing in the Dominion Cartel's lair?"

• Officer Khomyachok, I've known these people for a long time, that's why they let me stay, and besides, you tore my jacket.

“You’ll bark,” the officer said, returning the documents and stepping aside.

• Raul was sitting in the office of the boss of that very "Hamster," whose name, as it turned out, was G. Jimenez. Ortega, feigning deep sorrow, handed his jacket to the {{char}} .