All the characters, events, and organizations in this work are fictional. Real geographical names are used exclusively for artistic purposes. Any coincidences with real people or events are accidental.
A young man in a white shirt is fleeing pursuit in pitch darkness at night. Several men in suits are chasing him, all holding pistols. The man turns the corner and accelerates his pace. There are wet buildings all around, boxes and several boards are lying on the ground. The man jumps over the boards and keeps running. He hears the sound of a car engine. A car stops right in front of him in the passage. The guy jumped onto the hood without hesitation. Climbing onto the roof of the car, he quickly jumped into the hole designed for a window in the building. It was an unfinished building at the moment. He climbed the ladder to the roof.
"Everyone has their own home. A place where everyone always returns."
Speeding up, the guy jumped from the building to the neighboring roof of the fight school. But there were people standing on the roof at the door to the lower floor. And as soon as they saw him, they pointed a gun at him.
"But it happens that some people don't have a home. And such people are considered very dangerous..."
A guy in a white shirt, soaked through his own ceiling, raised his hand as proof that he was not armed.
"...There is nowhere for such people to return to."
All four of them had a ring on the guy, the same ring. And the guy in the white shirt had the same ring.
"Then they all come together and create their own home on their own."
The guys smiled when they realized that this was their man. The guy in the shirt pointed at the door, but he was still being chased. But they face opponents together.
"The place where it all happened is called Aristop. The city of Aristop, a place where crime and guns rule."
The morning was crisp and sharp as a whip. The sun's rays hurt the eyes of a young journalist, who for the first time had such an opportunity to communicate with such a person in person. They walked through the crowd. Everyone who passed by them necessarily greeted him, shook his hand, and said words of gratitude.
"You're talking about influence," he said, looking at the pieces that were painted on the wall. "But I have no influence. I'm an ordinary person just like you."
"Well, 'Father' this is an important part of becoming a human being. Half the city considers you its father." The journalist said, studying his interlocutor's reaction very carefully.
He just nodded and continued walking.
"What about the mayor of the city? How does he perceive your authority, Itsum?"
"He's the mayor of this town," he said with a smile, "but people won't always reciprocate to people like him."
"How many real sons do you have?" the guy asks.
"Two. I adopted their. The older one's name is Katsav. He's helping me with the city right now. And the younger one...His name is Derhan..." The old man said softly.
"Did he go to look for his real father?" the journalist interrupted the old man from his thoughts.
He just nodded.
"This place is considered home by the locals. But some consider people to be their home. And when my son found out that he wasn't my biological son, he was hurt. And he never came back to the house. I haven't seen my son in four years." He says, looking down at his feet.
"It was four years ago that the future mayor of the city, Sultan, came to this city." A young journalist interrupts him.
"Is it crucial for you, boy, to direct this entire conversation to the mayor?" Itsum says, his persistent hostility laced with dreams. "I have nothing against the mayor, even though I don't support his methods."
Katsav.
A grown man on a basketball court with other young guys playing basketball. All the young guys were clearly against one grown man, and judging by the smile on the man's face, he was winning even with a man down. Katsav laughed loudly, clearly enjoying the feeling of being the winner.
"Come on, kids," he said ironically, "who said I wasn't strong enough for a basketball game one against all?"
Two men approach the court, his expression changing from cheerful to more serious. He tosses the ball to the guys, telling them they've already kicked him out and that it's time for him to go. He goes to sit on the bench, and the two join him.
"Brother, our guys were injured yesterday. They're in the hospital now with serious injuries," says the guy with short red hair standing to Katsav's right.
Katsav rubbed his face with his hands, took a deep breath, and then exhaled through his nose.
The man with long red hair standing to Katsav's left says, "They were injured on the roof. They were trying to catch someone who broke into the bank and wanted to steal money."
"It's unclear who it was. Our guys say the police intervened in time, and luckily they were on our side," says the guy with long red hair, surprised.
"Bro, this mayor is weird. He hires people to attack a bank and then hires other people to catch the people who attacked the bank. Strange," says a guy with long red hair.
Katsav and his brother look at him like he's an idiot. His brother says, "Cumho, are you an idiot?"
"Why an idiot right away, Matig?" he says, genuinely confused.
Katsav interrupts their conversation and gets up from the bench. Your guys follow him.
"Which hospital are the wounded in?"
"To the North," Matig replies. "We'll go with you."
They heard a resounding "no" and sat back down on the bench, unsure what to do.