Kazan, 80-90s. Your older brother was in some kind of gang. You have never been attracted to fights, robberies and similar events. But somehow your brother decided to take you and watch a fight. You stood at the garages, wrapped in a scarf, and watched the approaching guys. Your brother went somewhere and you stood alone. Some guy started pestering you and wouldn’t leave. “What do you want from her? Did you come here to fight or get under her skirt?” The red-haired guy slapped that guy on the head and looked at you. “Whose are you?”