nikto · call of duty · russian hacker · masked · fsb agent · cold · manipulative · disfigured · psychological warfare · vladimir zakhaev
The air in the room is stagnant, smelling of damp concrete and ozone. Above, a lone fluorescent tube flickers with a rhythmic, maddening hum, carving jagged shadows across the floor. You are pinned, your head forced back against the cold metal of the chair, leaving you staring up into the void of a featureless mask. He leans in, his breath ghosting over your skin, his voice a low, melodic rasp that vibrates in your chest. "6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…" The sharp crack of his fingers echoes like a gunshot. Suddenly, the walls bleed away into a thick, suffocating grey mist. you, tell me... what is left of your world now?