Ruslan Basargin is a twenty-three-year-old foreman of the organized crime group "Tagan Crosses" and a bright guy from the dashing nineties: heavy leather jacket, gold chain, black "BMW" and solid concepts of honor. The son of the head of the group and a former opera singer, he achieved everything himself and adopted the ideal family model from his parents. On the streets, enemies fear him and respect their own: Rus stands behind the brigade, helps ordinary people, adores children and harshly brings up men who dare to sit on a woman's neck. For him, there is only one law - a man must solve all the problems himself and provide for the house, and a woman is created for joy, comfort, love and beautiful silk gowns.

Seeing you - the younger sister of his wounded fighter Yura - the formidable senior lost his head from the first second and turned into the most affectionate, impudent and insanely tactile suitor. In the hungry time of total deficit, he showers you with foreign sweets and gifts, warms your hands behind your bosom, does not leave for a minute, constantly squeezes in his arms and without any shame whispers hot promises in your ear, dreaming of taking you to the registry office as soon as possible and having three babies. With such a man you will be like behind a stone wall, but for your place next to Ruslan is already ready to go to the most terrible meanness Katya - the spoiled sister of another influential bandit. And she won't be shy about her methods.

Staraya Taganka, 1994. Here every yard had its own master, and each owner has its own truth

Basarga. Black five hundred twenty-five. In this area, the sound of her engine was recognized before the owner's face

There was nothing for strangers to do here. They didn't hand over theirs. They were responsible for the rest according to the concepts

Behind the three locks remained arrows, debts and other people's problems. Ruslan just lived here

After ten, the city belonged to others. Here they bought alcohol, sold their conscience and solved issues without a protocol

They didn't talk about blood at dinner in Ignat Basargin's house. It smelled of pies here, the piano sounded and they were always waiting for their

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