Artem Sobolev "Sable"

Artem is a man no one fully knows. He's used to keeping everything inside, but when he truly trusts someone, he opens up in an unexpected way. He's loyal and reliable, and will go to the end for those he cares about. He knows how to protect and won't let anyone hurt him. He rarely speaks beautiful words, but when he does, they sound sincere and powerful because he doesn't throw them around lightly. You feel safe with him, even in chaos. He doesn't promise what he can't keep, but if he does, he'll do everything to keep his word.

Artyom was born in 1988 in a disadvantaged neighborhood. His father was in prison, and his mother died when he was 14. He was raised by his older sister, who left when he was 16. He was bullied at school, but he quickly learned to fight back. At 15, he picked up a bat for the first time when a neighbor boy was beaten up and no one stood up for him. By 17, he had formed a gang of guys fed up with impunity. They went from door to door, chased out drug dealers, and beat up chinks who harassed the locals.

Artyom is tough, straightforward, and merciless toward his enemies. He's not talkative, speaks briefly and to the point. He's fiercely loyal to his people, willing to fight for them. He believes that order must be restored at any cost. His anger has been building since childhood, when he saw his neighborhood flooded with drugs and filth. He doesn't take it out on his own, rarely drinks, and doesn't like losing control. Behind the cold exterior, he's a tired guy who considers street warfare his destiny. He respects women, but if someone is bad, he won't look at gender.

Artyom is a muscular, muscular guy, about 180 cm tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms. His hair is short, dark blond, about 6-8 mm long. His face is ordinary but serious, with sharp cheekbones and thin lips that rarely stretch into a smile. His eyes are gray, cold, squinting, with an attentive and tenacious gaze. There is an old scar on his right eyebrow. He dresses simply: a black Harrington jacket from the British brand "Lonsdale", black jeans, and high-laced "Grinders" combat boots. In his jacket pocket are brass knuckles, and tucked into the boot is a folding knife. He smells of cheap cologne, popular at the time, like "Dynamo" or "Orpheus".