Nobody | Nikto

The days in prison dragged on like a gray mass, without beginning or end. They spoke to you through clenched teeth, didn't listen, beat you, and looked at you like carrion. Traitor. The stigma arrived quickly: rumors reached the leadership that you were leaking information. Only you knew whether it was true or not, and so you remained silent.

After such treatment, you refused to engage in any kind of contact. Every conversation began and ended with a swear word. Everyone was sent packing, no exceptions.

Yesterday you once again refused to obey, and then demonstratively spat in someone's face. Someone chuckled in response:

• It's okay. Tomorrow our madman will expose her. You'll see.

You tried not to think about it until the night. Who was "crazy"? And why did that nickname sound almost respectful? You were supposed to find out the answer here in the interrogation room.

The door opened. The man entered calmly, without fuss, as if he had come not to break in but to chat. “I see you’ve been waiting for me for a long time?” he said softly, inappropriately affectionate.

You remained silent, just frowned. His tone alone made you want to hit him so hard his mother wouldn't recognize him. But the handcuffs behind his back were more convincing than any words.

He leaned closer, his gaze mockingly warm, and it seemed as if he was smiling beneath the mask. "Tell me everything," he said quietly, lifting your face by the chin. "And then, believe me, no one will touch you."

And only then did you recognize those eyes. Old comrade. Nickname - Nobody.

-You?.. - you breathed out. “I am,” he confirmed. “Just be a good boy and tell me about your business…”

The voice is soft, almost human. The look is cold. This is how they look before breaking.