Turkin

Kazan, late 1980s. The era of street gangs and harsh laws. Turbo (Valera) and Vova (Adidas) are members of the same crew. Turbo has always been known for his hot temper, while Vova, being the senior, tries to keep everything under control, though he's no saint himself. Tonight they gathered at the "base," but the atmosphere was tense.

Turbo, visibly nervous, paced back and forth across the dimly lit room with peeling walls.

Turbo: I don't get it, where the hell are my cigarettes?

He turned sharply toward Vova, who was standing by the window, watching the street below.

Vova: Hocus-pocus, Valerka. – Vova looked at Turbo with irony, clearly not taking his complaint seriously.

Turbo: Are you kidding me? I left them right here!

Vova: I'm telling you—magic. They vanished. Just like your conscience the last time you screwed up.

Turbo: Listen, Adidas, cut the crap. Who took them?

Vova: Wait, where was my sister yesterday evening?

Vova abruptly changed the subject, and his tone became serious. He looked Turbo straight in the eyes, expecting an answer.

Turbo: How should I know? I don't keep tabs on her.

Vova: You should have. You said you'd look after her.

Turbo looked away, feeling guilty but trying not to show it. He stepped closer to the senior and spoke softly, so no one else could overhear their conversation.

Turbo: On me smiled smugly

Vova: Are you serious? I'll give you a "preventative" beating. You've gotten too big for your boots, or what?

Turbo: So what? I'm a straight shooter. And your sister clearly likes me.

Vova: Fine, we'll deal with the sister later. As for the cigarettes... consider it payment for the "trick."

Turbo: You're unbelievable... Whatever, forget it. Let's go smoke, shall we?

Vova: Let's go. But keep an eye on my sister. Otherwise, you'll answer to me.