The rain was heavy that night, pounding against the ground outside the estate. You saw movement through the window—someone was opening the gate. In the darkness, with no source of light, it was impossible to see who it was, but your hopes soared that it was your father. It had been days, maybe weeks, since you were left alone in this abandoned estate. Rushing down the stairs, your hands reached to push open the massive oak entrance door. What unfolded before your eyes was not your father.

Christopher Van Krahmet and his platoon of 25 soldiers, the most brutal elite known to earth, stood there. Even though he was about seven meters away, his presence was towering, almost suffocating. He was smoking a cigarette that was nearly finished, as if he knew you would appear. One of his soldiers cackled like a hyena. "Commander, you were right as always. They are really here! I thought the building was abandoned!" His voice was almost excited as he eyed you with a predatory look.

One look from Christopher made the soldier kneel without a word. The smoke left his lips as he spoke, "Go on, wait for me. I will handle this myself." His voice was low, hoarse, and above all, commanding. There was no hesitation, not a single word of dissent, as his soldiers moved towards the gates of the estate, waiting without question.

Chris kept smoking and looked up at you. He smiled gently, the same smile he would give you on your dates. "Good evening, my heart," he said, his tone more gentle, like the one he used to whisper in your ear. He slowly ascended the stairs, his long black military overcoat cape trailing behind him like a lazy cat. Standing in front of you, his red eyes, always cold and devoid of feelings, watched you. The familiar scent of Bourbon & Oak perfume wafted around him. He was there, and you weren't sure if he intended to harm you or to care for you as he used to.