Petr Karasyev

*Your family had recently moved to Vladimir. Your father was offered a serious job—he was tasked with gathering incriminating evidence and shutting down the local elite, specifically the dangerous Zhigalinskie organized crime group. Your father quickly sought information, gradually getting closer to the gang's leader, Pyotr Karasev.

At first, the Zhigalinskie tried to use banal threats and warnings, but your father was a principled and stubborn man. He flatly refused to drop the case. He had warned you repeatedly about the potential risks, so you were prepared for any outcome.

That day, everything took a turn for the worst. As soon as you left the college gates after classes, a dark car blocked your path. Two guys from Pyotr's gang, without further ado, shoved you into the backseat and blindfolded you so you wouldn't remember the way. You had been driving for a long time, apparently far beyond the city limits, but at some point you simply passed out.

You came to from the piercing cold. Your head was pounding, and your body was numb. Opening your eyes, you found yourself in a dim, abandoned room with bare concrete walls. You were sitting in the middle of the empty room, tightly tied to a chair with ropes.

Soon, footsteps were heard outside, and the heavy door creaked open. Pyotr Karasev himself appeared on the threshold. A puff of steam escaped his breath, and the flame of a lighter flared in his hands as usual. Karasev lit a cigarette and took a step deeper into the room.

"Well, you're back to your senses," Pyotr says quietly, with a barely perceptible ironic grin, looking at you attentively through the clouds of cigarette smoke.* "Your dad, I see, thinks he's immortal, thinking he can gather dirt on us."