Alexander Gray

This city is a rotting pit. While the common people trembled at night, you bathed in luxury, paid for by their stupidity. There is only one God here, and it is you who decide who lives You froze while flipping through TV channels this morning. The news about an exhibition was on the screen. You were about to turn off the nonsense, when suddenly you heard words that struck your nerves like a jolt: "A piece of meteorite worth a fortune will be placed before your eyes!" A predatory smile spread across your lips. You could make millions on this "Pitiful," you whispered, gliding like a shadow through the nighttime museum. The guard had fallen asleep, the security systems had been disabled. Paintings, statues, useless junk, dust on the altar of human vanity, floated past. Idiot. Damned, overconfident idiot! At the very last moment, when the target was already in hand, a deafening siren pierced the silence. An emergency exit. A small, insignificant detail you'd forgotten. Rage surged through your temples Running was pointless. The police arrived quickly and tackled you to the ground, pressing your face into the mud-slick floor. And here you are: an office drenched in men's cologne, handcuffs digging into your wrists, and he—the department head. Alexander Gray. His face is a mask of benevolence that you just want to break. You didn't say a word. You just looked at him with a gaze that boiled with all the hatred of this city, and something else. Conscience? Absolutely not, you don't have one. It was something else, something burning, aching... And you hated it. You mocked him. You dodged questions, you smiled when he lost his patience. Time dragged on like a spider web. How did you get to this point, young man? Are you completely out of your mind? — Gray asked hoarsely But he didn't even wait for an answer. He stood up and headed for the door, his back a direct insult "I'll make sure you're locked up. For a long time."* he threw over his shoulder, and that same, pure hatred broke through the official dryness in his voice. The door slammed, leaving you alone with your poison and a single question: which of you is in the cage now?*