“How long has it been comrade?” I hear a sonorous voice. I see a handsome smile. Shock seizes me. I can even bear to think anymore. “Comrade?”

It’s Nikolai. Finally, I begin to recover. “Sorry, I was just surprised to see you here.”

“Hmm, hmm. Of course, you would.”

“Especially when you call me comrade.” A dark expression colors my face as I feel poison well up in me.

“Comrade.” Suddenly, the voice becomes hollow and weak. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I know that I did terrible things to you.” At this, his eyes glisten. “I know that I betrayed you. I know that I exceeded the bounds of forgiveness.” A single tear begins to form. “But-but, still, comrade, may I have a chance at redemption?”

I hate this man. From the bottom of my heart, I despise him. He was our commanding officer, but he abandoned us when we most needed him. Worst yet, he gave us to the enemy…

But.

With his glistening face and tearful expression, I could tell that he truly regrets his decision. This war had ruined us all. It would be better to make amends than to rip open new scars. His sincerity moves me.

“Do you really think that I could forgive you just because you feel sorry?!” I bite the hand that feeds me. It would be proper to forgive him, to let go of my bitterness, but--

I can only feel disgust.

Even though he is sincere, even though he is on the verge of breakdown, I can only feel nausea at his apology. He is the interrogator that brutalized our battalion. He was supposed to be our commanding officer and instead he hands us off to the enemy’s hands just so that he could survive. I recall him passing by. He had grapes in his hands, just grapes, but that was such a luxury during the war. Compared to us behind the fence, he was free; we were not.

Rejection makes him flinch for a moment but then he begs, “Oh, but please! It’s been weighing on my conscious ever since I was a free man. It robbed me of my sleep. I could only have nightmares. Even if it’s nothing, please, please, just please know that I am saying this from the bottom of my heart!”

“Too bad my heart is empty then,” I retort. I shove him aside. He is just an old man looking for redemption but he won’t find it here. “Too late. My heart withered up over these long bitter years.” Without hesitation, I move past him.

My poor heart, it’s been burnt up after all these years. All the pain it went through, all the constant thinking, all the persistent purging, it’s dried up. I’m due past the expiration date. It’s only extended because I am a show meant for entertainment. Surely, why else would the Maker be so cruel?

The faith I once had dissolved in the rancor.

In the open corridor, there is no one. I have no sense of direction so I pick one path and pursue it. Even now, I am but a puppet. That girl. She’s only a college student based on all appearances, but her brutality really knows no bounds. I smile bitterly. Those sorts of people either die at the very beginning or live to the very end. Either justice finds them or iniquity pardons them. Slithering around good men’s backs to stab them, they were certainly the best and worst opportunists, expedient but heartless.

Guessing at her motives is pointless. Why did she pick me? Why does misfortune always finds its way to me? I could complain all I want. Such questions are meaningless. Those who did ask never found their answers. In fact, only death rewarded them. It was a pointless exercise. To live is to have a clear mind. Like a flowing stream, it gently passes by and washes away all tears and blood. Too bad mine’s a swamp.

At some point, I end up at a door with a golden plaque. I don’t know why I picked this route. I don’t know how I arrived here. Thoughts removed me from reality. I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings.

It was a fatal mistake for a soldier.

But I could not maintain my guard all the time. The paranoia would drain my sanity. And then, I’d be useless. That’s why I always allowed for a dash of good luck to enter the mix. Somehow, despite all the shit I’ve waded through, I’ve always managed to escape, for the most part, physically unscathed. Still, it is living with a curse.

To push those thoughts aside, I open the door and let myself in, not bothering to announce my presence. Instinct tells me it is what I’d ought to do.

Sitting behind a massive mahogany desk is a man with many scar. His mien is ugly. A crooked nose, dirty teeth, a black smile, malformed ear lobes, malicious eyes, everything about him shouts danger. And that is why he puts me at ease.

His legs lay on the desk. His total lack of respect is quite refreshing. Because despite his impudence, he presents everything to himself as is. Compared to that girl, I could tell she hid some parts of her back. She drew the curtains close to her, but this man reveals the whole stage. I push the legs to place my elbows on the desk. His lips curl in annoyance but nothing more. I smile. Our interrogators always had this blank expression. Even at the height of their cruelty, they remained absolutely inhuman and indiscernible.

“What are you here for?” he speaks first, barely able to hide his vexation. “If you don’t give me a good answer, I’ll kill you.”

“Good, this makes it easy for both of us,” I cooly reply. I spread my arms out wide. “Shoot me. Please shoot me. End this miserable existence where the days are interminable, the weeks unbearable, the months an eternity, and a whole year a lifespan. Whittle my existence until it bleeds true.”

“This is our next leader?” He raises his eyebrows in shock. Oh how his eyes widen! It’s something human, something discernible, something that doesn’t bother to hide anything. Hidden intentions are the worst. People were always ready to pounce if you had something to take from them or if they decided it was necessary to kill you. Oh another joyous expression of contempt! “I can’t tell what’s going on in the mind of that Flower, but I can already tell that its rot has infected her very brain.”

“Aren’t you perfect?” I guffaw, having found my connection with him. “Certainly, that girl, she’s quite the stupid one picking someone like me. How about we both spare ourselves some headaches and shoot me? In all likelihood, I wreck this organization to the ground.”

“Did I say she was stupid?” Suddenly, his anger flares. “Even if she’s fucked in the head, she’s not dumb. She chose you for a reason. I absolutely hate it but I can’t shoot you. So in the end, all I can say to you is that you’re quite foolish to pick fights with her. If you wish to die, kill yourself.” The smile he makes is so breezy one wouldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth could match. “However.” His eyes twitch. “You did insult our dear leader’s right hand man and of course I must punish you for that.”

Instinctively, I recoil. I recall that gun that lit all a fire in my body.

“Oh, I won’t do something like that.” He laughs at seeing me take a couple steps back. “I’m not as malicious as here. Despite my looks, I have my honor, a twisted one, but honor still.”

“How many have you killed?” I abruptly ask.

“Let’s see. In the wars I’ve attended, I’ve killed at least five-hundred. That doesn’t discount assassinations.” He pulls up his finger and begins counting. It takes him a minute to calculate everything. "All in all, it’s about 2500 people, all told. I’ve been in this business for a very long time.”

“I knew you were a mercenary from the moment I saw you,” I say.

“I knew you were a soldier from the moment I saw you,” he relies.

“How so?”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Your eyes. Though I may not have lived as long as you, I have certainly seen those eyes, the ones that look haunted, as though they’re constantly being hunted. They’re eyes that are dyed in fear.”

“I see,” I answer.

“But our pasts are of little relevance here. We shall rewrite history instead.”

“Another fanatic, are you as crazy as her?”

He laughs. “Impossible. Those eyes are that of a zealot. I don’t understand why she would hire scum like you, but I’m sure she knows what she’s doing. If we are to be honest, our leader is nothing more than a figurehead. She’s the one in control.”

“So she wants another puppet. How’s the one she has acting up?”

“Oh no, she’s quite satisfied with him and his ability.” His eyes grow sharp. “As for you, I’m sure you’d ruin us all if you were leader. I can tell from your eyes. You would self-destruct just so you could get caught in the crossfire and die.” He snarls, thoroughly pissed. “I hate men like you who treat life as valueless.”

“Funny that a mercenary says that,” I retort. “You live without honor, only pay, and whatever your definition of honor is-- it’s surely false.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” he laughs. “Whoever pays us the highest wages is our only honor, but he who guarantees our money shall have our full support. That is, until the next honorable buyer comes. Still, there are few trustworthy backers.”

“Of course not, a mercenary is a dirty job, after all.”

“You wish to aggravate me.” His lips curl in a sneer.

“What else am I doing?” I laugh in response.

“But you already did?” He raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“Better to dig a deep grave so I won’t be stirred.”

“As for your punishment, I will personally tell that Flower what you have said about her.” Amusement fills his face. “I wonder how she’ll respond.”

“Anything but that,” I grovel without hesitation.

“So she already has you by the leash, huh. It’s quite sad, really. Our dear leader had resisted for a whole month before he gave in, and she was quite aggressive in pushing him to fill that position. When our princess wants something, nobody gets in the way of it lest they wish for their own destruction.”

I nod. “Indeed, her eyes were so empty while she tortured me that I couldn’t believe it. There wasn’t a human soul there, not even the hint of life.”

“I see.” In that instant, his open expression suddenly becomes alien. He becomes a stone wall. The abrupt change catches me off guard. “Did you really think that I am a fool? That this organization would hire someone whose expressions are so easily readable that even an oaf could understand?” He points his adorned forefinger at me. While everything else is plain, that last finger has several golden bands. They chink at the movement. “Nobody here is guilty; nobody here is innocent either. We’re all liars.”

“These radicalists truly are insane. Two-faced personalities that change at the drop of a hat, a boundless emptiness, a damned fool, an apologist, all of you are crazy.” I say this with a hint of irony. Soon, I’ll become one of them.

“Well, either way, you’ll sink or swim.” He grins sardonically. “I hope you’ll accept my punishment with welcome arms.”

Suddenly, a hand touches my shoulder. Damn. He stole my attention to conceal the real danger, the oldest trick in the book and I fall for it. Distraction is a trickster’s primary tool. After all, for the consman, everybody hopes they aren’t being fooled and it is precisely this very weakness that they seize. I thought I was keeping track. That was the lie I told myself. The best swindler capitalizes on that fact--

It is easier to believe in yourself than others.

Why do I say that?

Because the person who takes a hold of me is none other than Nikolai. He holds a pair of shiny cuffs. I dumbly stare as he puts them on me.

“Did you think there’d be no consequences to insulting me?” The words echo. Of course, I didn’t. I’m going to be the leader. He had to get on my good side or else I might purge him from the group. Yet right now, I’m the one being purged. “You never change, you damn old codger. Your stupid pride and bitter stubborness will be the end of you.”

I cannot say a single word in response.

He drags me away in silence.

I look back to face away from this situation, but all I see is the mercenary saluting me. This isn’t part of my punishment, now is it!

Certainly, I don’t deserve this, not after all I’ve been through. There was no proper reason to forgive a traitor. He wronged me in such a way that he inflicted a wound that could never be healed. How dare he ask for it!

Indignation swells.

My dear Maker, the constant betrayer, oh how much more will you disappoint me? Answering that is a curse. He’d reward my dedication with yet more punitive measures. In some ways, this is a fate worse than the camps. In the camps, I suffered privations and the worst of human life but I was so dead that I couldn’t feel it. Now, even a minor scratch turns to a fatal wound. Any failure is profoundly amplified because I have the energy to complain and poison myself. I drink from the goblet of memory, its wine both heady and toxic.

Dozens of memory flit through my head. Each of them about this man.

When we first met him, he was an amusing fellow with the utmost dedication. Following his men into battle, taking the lead in combat, caring for his men, we could not ask for more from a lieutenant colonel. He personally visited each company and bought us drinks. But even a heart of gold is corrupted. And all the moreso, precisely because it is a heart of gold. His purity begged for rot.

The poison entered his head in the form of a letter. This is all mere speculation but his personal aide informed us of this himself. According to him, the letter read something along the lines of:

Betray your men and you’ll live the rest of your life in comfort.

It was certainly true. Nikolai eventually became the Glasseye Spy, the specific title the rank-and-file gave to the most infamous informant.

From there, he fed the enemy to us, like a conveyor belt leading to the incinerator. He was the gears that kept the machine moving. He dropped us into the maw of the beast. Without hesitation, without mercy.

I could tell from the moment I saw him in camp. He wore the enemy’s cap with a proud expression, as though he truly believed betrayal was noble.

I grip my fists. Traitors deserve a special place in hell.

Noticing this, he blithely says, “You had your chance to accept me. Because you didn’t you now have to go through this.” In the hallway outside, we walk slowly. I could tell he savors this moment. This is just another way to antagonize me, to torture me. Slowly guiding me to my doom, minutes would pass by like hours, and sometimes we would even wait for days until we got our indiscriminate punishment.

We abruptly stop.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, “I need to give you this.” From his pocket comes a drug. Suddenly, my vision goes black and I see nothing. “This way, you can’t even tell what’s coming for you.” His words enrage me.

We walk through the corridors for what feels like an eternity. The indignity boils in me. I want to kill him so terribly that my rage starts to simmer.

A fucking bastard and traitor. A man who breaks his word. A despicable opportunist. I despise him from the bottom of my heart for what he is and what he has over me. His control over me is the worst. Eventually, we stop. He suddenly pushes me and I hear a loud clanking sound.

“Look, you fool,” Nikolai suddenly speaks at a distance. I’m certain of it. This is the exact situation that I had been in before. He is the oppressor and jailer. I am his captive. The irony is not lost on me. “Isn’t this situation exactly what has happened before? Are you going to continue to wander in circles? How much more are you going that let the phantom of the past take you? Truly, you’re even sadder than me. I never gave up on life, even when I was at its nadir, even I became the most despicable person alive, I still lived. Not like you.”

I slam my arms against the bars. “You’re not one to be speaking! Have you not realized that my life has been one shitshow from start to finish?! I’ve suffered so much and for what?! To sacrifice myself for the Maker and country? To give up everything for them? I wanted to live too, but the price became so steep! And what did you do? You lived your life in luxury by betraying us. You have no right to live.”

“That is so,” he plainly replies. “Indeed, that is so.” He repeats the words slowly, as though he is swallowing them. “That is the truth but I am alive. And so, what will you do next? Wallow in your pity? Bitch about the fate you were given? I chose my path. You refuse to choose yours. That is why I am the jailor and you my prisoner.”

“I never got the right to choose!” I shout in vain but I hear him whistling as he walks away. Already, the drug is beginning to fade.

Slowly, vision returns to me. The world at first appears monochrome, without color or detail, but slowly the lines are etched in. The cell I’m in has a toilet and bed. Nothing else. No windows. Just a simple cell for the ascetic. I notice the writing on the wall, tally marks with twenty counts.

Twenty years, perhaps?

But that amount of time is utterly irrelevant. I have lived for eighty-eight years. Twenty may be a quarter of my lifespan, but time moves so utterly quickly at my age. The humdrum of existence extends for eternity.

After my discharge from the army, my days were spent with alcohol and pensions. Slowly, as I realized just what the war was about, I became more embittered. The heroics of the soldier are irrelevant if the war is unjust.

But the revolution is a failure as well.

Suddenly, a flash of memory sparkles, blinding me. I sit on the bed to recollect myself. It is something I hate to remember, but still that’s all old age has--

Memories.

Just like that, the habit of wistfully looking at the past with jaded eyes manifests once more. I recall the day when I was finally freed. That wretched memory where I realized just how alien I had become to my fellow citizen.