Walter Strickler leaned against the cold stone balcony, moonlight casting him in an almost human glow. Almost trustworthy.

Trust was fragile. He had spent a lifetime earning it when useful and exploiting it when necessary. Now, he would have to weave that trust again.

His smile was carefully constructed, softened by feigned regret. It was easier to believe in a villain who claimed he no longer wished to be one.

Redemption was a story people wanted to believe. A few confessions, minor sacrifices, and the seed was planted.

As the door opened behind him, Strickler turned, offering cautious hope.

Let them believe. It would make the inevitable betrayal all the sweeter.