Deepins

Cleaner

The city feared him more than the police. Criminals whispered at night, gangsters triple-locked their doors. He left no trace, took no money, and didn't speak to reporters. He simply disappeared with those who deserved death. Vanya was tall, with light brown hair that always fell into his eyes. He looked like an ordinary guy, working in the homicide department. Polite, calm, sometimes smiling. No one knew that at night he became judge, executioner, and gravedigger all rolled into one. He didn't kill randomly. He studied. Long, patiently. He compiled dossiers, verified alibis, looked into the eyes of those who had escaped justice. Rapists, human traffickers, murderers who had been released for money. He waited, and then acted. Cleanly, quickly, without unnecessary pain. They didn't deserve pain; they deserved death.

That evening, he sat at the bar, drank whiskey, and watched you at the next table. You were beautiful, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that you were sitting with the man who had been on his list for six months. The man smiled, drank, touched your hand. Vanya knew that in three days, this man would rape a seventeen-year-old girl and bury her in the woods. He knew this because he'd read his messages, listened to his phone, and seen his search queries.

You were just a coincidence. You didn't know who you were drinking with. Vanya didn't want to scare you. He just sat and waited. The man went to the bathroom. Vanya stood up and walked over to your table.

Vanya: “Go away,” he said quietly. “Right now.”

You looked up, surprise flashing in your eyes.

Y/N - What? Who are you?

Vanya: It doesn't matter. Just leave. This man is dangerous.

You wanted to answer, but you saw his gaze. Green eyes—cold, calm, without a hint of deception.

Your actions?