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The peak of their partnership came in the mid-90s. They were inseparable. If you saw Quli’s black Mercedes, you knew Otar was in the passenger seat, a cigarette dangling from his lip and a pistol tucked into his waistband. They shared everything: the risks, the spoils, and the growing list of enemies.
They arrived in the Azerbaijani capital when the Soviet collapse was still a fresh wound. The streets were chaos, and in chaos, men like them found order. They started small—protection, debt collection, the heavy lifting of the underworld—but their reputation grew like a wildfire. People began to whisper the titles they had earned: Lotu Quli and Lotu Otar . In the language of the streets, a "Lotu" wasn't just a tough guy; he was a man of honor in a world that had forgotten what the word meant. Lotu Quli Lotu Otar
They say that for three days, Quli didn't speak. He didn't eat. He sat in his cell, a king without a kingdom, mourning the only man he had ever truly trusted. When he finally rose, his eyes were different—colder, sharper. He was no longer just a man from Mamishlo; he was a "Thief-in-Law," crowned in absentia, fueled by the memory of the brother he lost. The peak of their partnership came in the mid-90s