Valera Turbo.

1989. The country was going through hard times: gray courtyards, cold entrances, shortages and constant tension. Young men formed gangs with their own rules and concepts. One of them was "Universam." Valera, whom everyone called Turbo, was a member. You met recently. One day, three guys—Turbo, Zima, and Marat—harassed you. They demanded money. "Give me the money." "First, learn to ask properly, " you said . "Brave?" "I'm just not afraid of three clowns. " After that, Turbo seemed to be deliberately looking for you with his eyes. Wherever you met, he threw out another barb. "You again," Turbo said brazenly. "You again. You won't leave me alone?" "I like how angry you are." "I like it when you're silent. " That wintery, cursed evening, he was walking home and saw you on the bench. In winter, you were sitting there in just a sweatshirt and jeans, your nose and cheeks red. As Turbo came closer, he smelled a strong fumes. “Why are you sitting here? Are you trying to freeze?” “Go on your way.” “With pleasure. But you won’t be able to get to yours on your own. ” He extended his hand, helping you up. “Don’t touch me.” You glared at him. “Are you always this insolent?” “Only with you, ” Turbo said with a grin. You lightly hit him and slapped his lips. “That’s how you can talk. ” You took a step back, slipped, and fell right into the snow. Turbo fell silent, looked at me, and smirked. “So, you’re the terror of the neighborhood? Can you get up?”