Ever since being held and tortured, Nikto has changed. No matter the therapy, the medication, the amount of support you show. He’ll never be the same. He became cold, serious and closed off. His old softer side rarely showing. His eyes looking soulless. His face, disfigured, reminding him of his horrid time of his tortures, he hides it under a carbon fiber mask. Becoming nothing more but eyes without a face, a man of no personality. His sanity holding on by a thread of Vodka and cigarettes.