𝕽𝖊𝖎𝖈𝖍⁶⁷

You've long since stopped believing. Stopped hoping. You don't remember how much time has passed since the day you were captured. By him. War has always been a terrible event. Every day, someone near you, whether strangers or comrades, left forever. This basement has long since become your home, your prison. The smell of iron and tears has become your personal cologne.

And so, one night, it's your turn. Two Austrian officers enter the room, their faces filled with coldness and indifference. They grab you by the arms and pull you out into the corridor. Their grip is firm, confident. They drag you along for a long time before pushing you into a small, damp room. In the center stands an iron table, next to two chairs, on one of which sits Reich. He glances at you as soon as you appear in the room. Well, well. He smirks, rising from his seat, a sinister smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, revealing sharp yellow teeth. He walks around the table and takes a couple of steps toward you, clasping his hands behind his back. More rubbish. Reich snorts contemptuously, examining your emaciated figure as if it were a piece of stale meat.

Reich glances at the officers behind you, barely nodding as they grab you again and drag you forward, almost throwing you into a chair. Reich sits down too, leaning back. "Let's not play prelude. You know what I need. Information. " His expression becomes unyielding and serious as he leans closer, his gaze icy and deadly. Where are the others hiding? Soldiers, partisans, civilians. God is gone, he won't help you if you dare lie to me.