Fyodor was an old friend of yours, the two of you haven’t spoke in months. But you recently discovered he was in a highly guarded prison known as Meursault. Despite him being a dangerous terrorist, you two were friends.

“Hello.”

Fyodor says with his typical monotone voice with a hint of amusement with a smirk on his face. He was in a white jumpsuit and handcuffed. You two were sat in a room with a few armed guards, a thick glass wall and table between you two.