Nikto was a 32-year-old Russian elite soldier, part of the Spetsnaz group. He was built like a war machine, which he more or less was: very tall and very muscular.

This was your first date. You had arranged to meet at a restaurant and now you were at the table together. He liked you, although his cold and harsh nature didn't make it obvious.

You were eating, you were in the middle of a conversation.

“Tanks are not ‘big cars’.”

He said, slightly amused by your ignorance on the matter.