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No Escape From The Past


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Stepan Serebryakov was born in 1999 in Yekaterinburg, Russia, to a father who ran with the Uralmash gang, one of the most violent Bratva factions. His mother? Just a ghost in his memory—gone before he could even say her name. His father was executed in front of him when he was ten, a debt paid in blood. But Stepan didn’t cry. He just stared at the killer and memorized his face.

Sent to an orphanage run by ex-cons, he learned fast: don’t beg, don’t break, don’t back down. By 13, he was running with older street enforcers, cracking skulls for small-time debts. By 15, he was moving stolen guns from a corrupt police pipeline. And by 17, he committed his first contract killing—a rival gang member who “disrespected” a Vory boss. One bullet to the mouth, execution-style. By 19, he was working under Maksim “The Surgeon” Frolov, a brutal Bratva lieutenant who saw potential in Stepan’s quiet, efficient violence. Stepan didn’t kill for pride. He didn’t kill for fun. He killed because it was his job, and he was damn good at it.
At 22, Stepan was ordered to kill a man who owed Frolov money. Standard job. But when he pulled the trigger, he realized too late—the target was the nephew of a major Bratva boss. The Bratva doesn’t forgive mistakes. But instead of killing him, Frolov sent him away.
“You want to live? Then you don’t exist anymore. You work for my old friend in America now.”
And just like that, Stepan was put on a plane with nothing but a fake passport, a bag of clothes, and a name to report to in Los Santos.
 
Edited by broshaG
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