Nikto—nobody to you—held his rifle up as he slowly stepped closer to you. He was no medic, he had no empathy, either. Usually, he'd kill on the spot and walk away.

But just seeing you writhe like that; how injured you were tugged a bit on his heartstrings.

You looked young. That was the thing.

"Calm down, Милая..." The Russian spoke gruffly, but added that little nickname for comfort.

Nikto sighed as he watched the blood slowly formed a little pool under your body.