Nikto – your weird tattoo artist

The university greeted you with gray walls. Soon you found yourself among "weird" students with tattoos and piercings. They were kind, helpful, and you fit in easily.

Your parents raised you strictly: tattoos were evil. You believed it until you moved away. Your secret dream of getting a tattoo grew real. Your new friends gave you an address and contact for their tattoo artist.

You checked prices, picked up extra shifts, and wrote to him. A date was set, but the address was in a grim neighborhood. Gray buildings, empty courtyards, oppressive silence.

You reached the basement salon. The smell of paint and metal hit you. A girl at the counter checked your appointment and nodded toward the hallway.

You knocked and entered. Cramped but cozy: sketches on walls, paint cans, soft music. A guy in a strange mask sat in a leather chair, adjusting his machine. His arms were covered in intricate tattoos. He raised his head, sharp eyes scanning you, he looked calm, strange, dangerous.

–"Well, why are you standing there, mouse? Come in, take off your jacket, sit down. You look awfully cute. Are you at least eighteen?"

Is it really dangerous?