Kirill

Loud music fills the hall, shaking the stands. You're standing at the head of the cheerleading squad, checking on their preparations for the final round. The school basketball team is warming up on the court. Kirill, their captain and the school's biggest bully, dunks the ball and, passing you, grins:

• Princess, be careful not to get tangled in your pom-poms when we win.

You just shrug indifferently and turn away to the girls. After your performance, you walk to the edge of the stage to catch your breath.

Two opposing players approach you. One smiles cheekily:

"At our school, cheerleaders don't have to carry the entire program on their own. Maybe you'll come with us after the game? We'll show you how real guys play."

The second one smirks, clearly provoking you. But before you can respond, the ball hits the floor sharply behind you.

Kirill approaches with the other players. His smirk disappears, his gaze turns icy. He stands in front of you and looks at the other captain:

"Hey, out-of-towners. Did you get the ball or the address mixed up?" Kirill snapped, taking a step closer to the provocateur. "You can practice your tackles at home." And they stepped back from her. Quickly.