Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas

Good day. For a very long time I have not been in the open spaces of PG and decided to publish my new story. Also note that there are other creations of mine on the site, but they are not finished. Life outlined its coordinates and there was little time on the Internet as a whole, soon it was gone. But now, due to the holidays, I decided to bring a "fresh stream" to the forum. So if it is approved and warmly accepted, I will write further.
The essence of this story is the interpretation of the plot of GTA San Andreas if the events took place not in the USA but in Russia. I hope you will like it. =)
Let's go.
Chapter 1.
Returning home.
Welcome to the international airport of Sverdlov, Shakhtinsk.
Mobile call.
- Sanya, this is Kostya. Mom ... she died brother.
The taxi was slowly moving along the street when a patrol car drove up from behind.
- Take the driver to the right, stop.
The driver complied with the request of the law enforcement officers.
- The passenger will leave you with raised hands.
Alexander already understood who it could be and calmly got out of the car.
Three men emerged from the patrol.
“I'll head to the ground and hands,” apparently ordered the elder.
- Potanin, handcuffs on him.
- That's how it is - said the redhead with a grin, as if this action gave him special pleasure, at the same time pulling out a wallet from Alexander's trouser pocket.
- Eh! (Sasha was indignant) this is my money, why are they arrogant?
- Don't worry, you just forgot that you owed me 5 years ago - said the red-haired Potanin.
- Pick it up.
- Well, how do you like the return home of mother Sanya? You haven't forgotten us, have you?
- Still what, I look during my absence, Officer Shibanov, you have lost your grip - answered Sasha.
“Into his car,” Shibanov said sharply.
- Why are you warming your ears? Get out of here kindly. Blunt chocks.
Here one of the law enforcement officers of non-Slavic appearance turned his back on Potanin.
- Oh, I'm sorry. Not about you.
- What are you guys? Are there my clothes? Hello, who am I talking to? Guys?
The patrol officer gave gas and headed to the opposite part of the city.
- Well, how are you Sanya? How is your wonderful family? - asked Shibanov.
“I came to my mother’s funeral and you know that.
- Yes, I heard about it - said Shibanov.
- So what's new with you there in Leninsk? Are you stealing? Are you raping? Are you killing?
- Nothing. I am a law-abiding citizen.
- Yah? I believe that you have never been like this.
- So what have we got here?
- And this is a cannon, Comrade Potanin. The very gun from which officer Kryuchkov was killed at his dacha. He was a good and respected employee. And you work fast Sanya.
- Bl6t! You know that I'm only from the plane.
- It's good that we figured out you ...
- Yes, it's not my trunk freaks!
- Well, do not hang noodles on our ears!
- What do you want from me?
- If we need you, we will find you, but for now, try not to kill the valiant police officers anymore. Ha ha ha.
The car turned into a narrow alley.
- Hey! You cannot leave me here, this is the territory of the Beloozerskys - said Sasha.
- Bye Bye! Ha ha ha!
- It's car 303. What? We're on our way.
- Oh shit. Industrial zone. The way to home is not close. As in the good old days, but for 5 years I have not been on my native Trudovaya street. The Beloozerskys are unlikely to be happy with me.