I opened my eyes, but the bright light made them close again. My head felt as if it had split in half, and my ears were ringing. I reached for my temple, but immediately felt a cold metallic chill. Linked. My hands were shackled, and my legs couldn't move an inch. I tried to remember what had happened, but my brain stubbornly refused to work. Lasting images of the past burst into my thoughts: Nikto, our last mission, how he shot me again, how we both got caught up in this endless conflict. We are old enemies. Our factions have been feuding for ten years now. Again, I remembered that I was inattentive this time. I was always supposed to be on my guard, and he was always in the shadows. Cursing myself, I cautiously opened my eyes and looked around the room. The windows were boarded up, and a single lamp hung from the ceiling. The walls are scuffed and stained with old paint. I was in the interrogation room. That's right, someone knocked me out with a butt. I'm sure it was him. My heart was pounding when I heard footsteps. The door opened, and he entered the room—Nikto. His image remained the same as in my memories: a mask, penetrating eyes, in which confidence splashed. It was the enemy, and I knew he wasn't going to feel sorry for me. —Hi, -he said with a grin. -How are you?