The truth About cypher ✓

Proshchay

Kazan is known for her historically rich culture. Starting from its Kremlin and Cathedral of the Annunciation to the Kul Sharif Mosque, it is popular for the diversity it serves. Most people forget how fucked up this place actually is. The kids working in churchyards lie drunk in Vladivostok. Some new drug is always roaming around the pubs and local restaurants. The rich brats want their cocaine clean and not cut as a cheap opioid served in a shitty underground club.

Kazan has her own little island of clubs and pubs around the districts of Novotorov, Savinovskiy Rayon, and Parizhsky Kommuny. And Proshchay was located in the heart of the city. It was situated around the main roads not too deep in the allies. The Novotorov station had several popular clubs and brothels around; this one was hiding in plain sight.

Laila was waiting patiently around her porch, waiting for Brutus and Dimitri to pick her up. The man said to be out of her house at 9:00 pm sharp. They were late. A white Lexus LX pulled up in front of her, a head peeping from the window screen.

"Get in loser, we're going clubbing!" Dimitri said in a pitched voice earning a groan from Laila and Brutus.

"Please use wordings according to your age sir," Brutus spoke while massaging his temples. Laila walked down in her Claude Boots. The girl wore a black Celine suit with an open blazer. Much to Brutus's dislike, her tattoo was hidden yet again, covered up. Laila opened the door, stepping in and closing the door behind her without saying a word.

"You're late."
"It's called fashionably late."

They drove off for fifteen minutes before making it out of Tatarstan. Within another five minutes, they joined the highway, making their way across Volga River. The river separated Kazan into an upper and lower city, Novotorov being in the lower half. 

"Who is this man you're making us meet? Is he trustworthy?" Brutus asked Dimitri who was busy driving.

"No one can be trusted fully in this business boy. And the man I'm taking you to is no exception. He's just desperate. That's how you survive in the underworld.

You find someone who is desperate and make them your bitch."

Dimitri stopped for a second, checking Laila from the rearview mirror. The girl was silently listening to the conversation. He breathed softly before continuing.

"He looks after Proshchay. The club does great, but he is a greedy little shit. So he also uses it as a place of exchange."

"Exchange? Like drugs and stuff?" Laila asked curiously.

"There's much more than drugs that you can exchange squeaky. Information, money, weapons, prostitutes. But don't worry; I ain't planning on pimping you though. Proshchay is also a place where candidates are recruited for gangs. They search for Young Blood to increase their runners and keepers. Igor, the guy I'm taking you to gets paid for escorting and training these young blood."

A silence followed his statement which lasted for a while. They were gonna be selected. On what basis? Dimitri never mentioned. The road turned narrow as they got off-highway. It was just what Laila had read, an island of clubs, each sign brighter than the other. The place was crowded even for a Wednesday. Proshchay did not have a flashy sign, just a board directing for parking.

You could only find it if you knew about it.

Dimitri parked his car in a reserved zone as if it was assigned to him. It probably was, the students thought to themselves. He killed the engine, asking the boy and girl to step out. Brutus fixed his red leather jacket, underneath a black shirt and pants. His Chelsea boots stomped on the ground hard as he walked towards Laila. He lent her his arm which the girl held onto till they made their way inside.