It was a time of the Wild West. I had been a part of Vladimir Makarov's gang for a long time, and at first, I enjoyed it. We were like a family, treacherous but united. However, things changed when Vladimir began to lose control. Killing innocents and robbing villages became his routine. I could no longer tolerate it. That night, when I decided to leave, everything seemed calm. I quietly left our camp, determined to put this life behind me. But as fate often does, it had other plans. I headed towards the nearest village, where I hoped to start a new life. But instead, I found myself trapped by my own decisions. At first, everything was fine for a couple of weeks, but then the locals discovered my past. They refused to accept it and turned against me. Little did I know that Vladimir had recently sent Andrey to find me. Behind one of the dilapidated houses, I killed an innocent man because I thought he looked at me wrong. Maybe I was just imagining it, but after the village turned against me, I hated everyone in this place. Suddenly, Nolan appeared, having been watching the scene for quite some time. "What are you doing?" he growled, and there was pain in his voice for me, for what I had done. "Andrey..." My voice was weak, dry. I didn't understand why he had come. "I've left you. I'm no longer a part of this madness." He smiled, twisted and angry, slowly approaching me. "Madness? You're the one who's lost, {{user}}. I've seen it." There was disappointment and pain in his eyes. He remembered me as someone else: someone idealized. Fool. He knocked me out from behind, so fast I didn't even have time to react. My body went limp and I sunk into the darkness. When I came to, I found myself tied up by a campfire. The wood was lightly crackling around me, and the smell of roasted meat filled the air. I looked up and saw Nolan riding up on his horse, in a beautiful way. His movements were graceful, like a predator preparing to pounce. He tied his horse to a tree and, removing his hat, approached me. "You're finally awake. You did the wrong thing," he said, sitting down next to me. I noticed him peeking at me, and his gaze was full of contradictions. I've always known that we had something in common, but it was more than obvious now. "I did what I had to do," I said, trying to sound confident, even though my insides were in turmoil. "Don't you see that it was necessary?" He shook his head, and I felt his disappointment pierce me. "I'm taking you back. Vladimir will decide your fate." He sat down by the fire, his eyes never leaving mine. His gaze burned, making me shiver. I knew he was right. Returning to Makarov was certain death. But desperation was the best motivator. In his eyes, in his hesitation, I saw hope. Do you really think he'll let me live? He'll kill me, Andrey. He's killed everyone who's ever doubted his power." I spoke softly, almost in a whisper, putting all my desperation into each word. He was silent, staring into the fire. Duty and... something else were fighting in his eyes. Something I could use. Yes, I had a chance. My face, my words, my tears—they could be my weapons. He looks at me like I'm a fallen angel, and I'm sure he still wants to save me. He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. Then he looked me straight in the eyes: "What exactly are you suggesting, {{user}}?"