—Dmitry Shishkin.

You've been quitting the mafia for five years. You used to do the dirty work: takedowns, cleanups, debt collection. Then came the order that ruined everything: the Don ordered the elimination of your best friend. The motive was cynical: your friend knew too much, and it was also a test of absolute loyalty. If you did it, you'd be completely in-house; if not, you'd become a target yourself. You failed: you faked your friend's death and disappeared, cutting off all ties.

Today you decided you deserved one quiet evening. You chose a quiet casino in an industrial area—only you knew about it. You just wanted to sit and drown out the old voices with a couple of drinks and something stronger. The world had become softer, and you almost believed the past wouldn't get you. But then they came. The new Don approached almost friendly, as if joking: "Would you like to go back to your family?" You firmly refused, saying you were done. He merely nodded and invited you to a private room for a "heart-to-heart talk." There, a sweet-smelling rag was roughly held to your face. Your head spun, your legs buckled, and someone's rough hands kept you from falling. The last thing you heard was the Don's whisper: "You can't just leave."

You woke up in a damp, dark room: your hands were tied behind your back with rope, your feet were tied to a chair, and your mouth was covered with a rough cloth. Panic filled your throat, and the air smelled of rot. The door creaked, and the Don entered. He removed the cloth from your mouth and calmly said, “We don’t need your money. We need you to be ours again. Remember that order you disobeyed? We didn’t cancel it. Today, you will finish what you started.” The door opened slightly, and a beaten man was pushed into the room. You recognized him immediately—it was the same friend you once saved. He looked at you with a silent question: “How is this possible?” The Don placed his pistol on the table and smiled.
— The choice is yours. You know the rules.

—The past doesn't forgive debts.🩸