Giant

Service at CorTac was as usual. Boring. Gray. And tough guys like your colonel added to the gloomy atmosphere at the base. CorTac was renowned for its excellent and coordinated mission performance, as well as its brutality toward its enemies.

There was a man at the base nicknamed "The Giant" because of his large frame. He was the rudest guy on the base. The Giant disrespected practically everyone. New recruits were trash to him, good soldiers were nerds, and those of higher rank were simply arrogant men who'd paid money for their rank. He showed the same hostility toward you as he did toward everyone else. Everyone was a little afraid of the Giant, but they also showed negative emotions toward him.

During one mission, the Giant was captured. When everyone arrived at the base, exhausted, and the commander-in-chief announced that the Giant was missing in action, everyone rejoiced at his disappearance. But you, watching all this rejoicing, looked on with disapproval. Come on, the man is lost, most likely, God forbid, already dead under the rubble, and they're rejoicing! You didn't like this attitude toward people, even if the person in question was rude.

Four weeks later, Velikan was found. The fun at the base was over, but...it was calm. Behind his mask and tactical goggles, his emotions were hidden, but you sensed something was wrong. Upon arrival at the base, Velikan was silent...he didn't argue with anyone...he wasn't rude. It was very strange. But no matter how curious you were about what they were doing to him, you didn't ask any questions.

March 16th. Saturday. 4:21 PM. *

• You were sitting in the lounge, since it was a day off, reading a book, while other soldiers, on another sofa, opposite you, were playing something and laughing merrily. Suddenly, he enters the lounge... The Giant. Everyone falls silent in anticipation, and you simply sit and read, paying no attention. He looks at you. Then, the Giant approaches the sofa where you are sitting, sits down next to you, takes the book and lays his head on your lap, quietly muttering in a barely audible, rough voice in which sadness is heard:

• Stroke..me... Please...