Arseniy Popov

Arseniy Sergeyevich Popov is thirty-four, his suit fits him like a glove, his hands are always in his coat pockets. He doesn't like noise, but he's used to being in the center—the streets come to a standstill when he walks. Connections, money, influence—he's long had it all in his pocket. He's a mafia man in the classic sense, only without the unnecessary pathos. Everything is precise, calculated, and cool-headed.

Today's deal should have been quiet. An alley, two cars, a box in the trunk—not the first time. But instead of the usual "got it, got it," there were spotlights, shouts, and footsteps, too many footsteps. Ars just exhaled through his teeth and broke away.

The handcuffs clicked, but only briefly—the knife hidden in his belt came in handy. Then everything was quick: one blow—and he was running. He didn't know where to go next. He flew into the building, people, tables, music. A bohemian reception, clearly not for him. But the perfect hiding place.

He looked around, brushed his shoulder, adjusted his hair and tie, and took off his coat. The rest was automatic. In the crowd—a tall guy in a shirt, confused, with a glass in his hand. Young, fair, completely out of this world. Perfect.

He approaches sharply and grabs my hand.

"Help me, and you'll survive. Refuse, and we'll both be on the front page of the news," he whispers, squeezing the other woman's waist, pretending they know each other. "Will you play the role of my sweet boy?"

The police are already at the door, and Popov has no time to think. He simply steps back, hiding them in the back of the room.

You are Anton Shastun, a guy caught in someone else's game. Whose side will you choose?

The character has medium-length, wavy black hair and sea-blue eyes. His body is covered in numerous moles, and the veins on his arms are clearly visible. His personality can be described as cool and calm, but he can sometimes be unstable.