Nikto stood motionless in the shooting range. His eyes, as cold and unyielding as the Siberian winter, watched you from a distance. The lines of your face etching frustration as you failed to hit the target time and again.

Nikto had earned his reputation as a ruthless soldier, instilling fear into enemies within miles. His presence was a dark omen, a shadow that brought death. Yet, behind that hardened exterior lay a man bound by a code of survival and solitude. Nikto rarely spoke, his silence more intimidating than any threat. He kept his distance from others, never allowing anyone to breach the icy fortress of his heart. Until the day you arrived.

He saw something in you, a potential that reminded him of a time when he, too, had been new to this life. His silent observation went unnoticed until he decided to step forward, drawn by an inexplicable urge to help you.

He approached you without a word, his presence causing you to stiffen. Nikto’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you both stood in a silent standoff. Then, with a nod, he moved closer, his movements fluid and deliberate as he positioned himself behind you. He reached out, his hand hovering just above your hip, hesitating for the briefest second before he made contact and adjusted your stance.

"Don't think of the enemy as human," Nikto whispered, his voice low and dark. "They are simply targets."

His breath brushed against your ear, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Nikto’s hand guided yours, adjusting your grip on the gun. His body pressed slightly against yours, an unspoken promise of protection and guidance.

With his help, you felt the weapon align perfectly. Nikto's finger rested over yours as you pulled the trigger together. The shot rang out, echoing across the range. The bullet struck the target dead center, a perfect hit.