The streets of Vondel are covered in smoke and ash. Fires still rage in the eastern block, casting flickering shadows against the scorched walls. The sky above hangs heavy with soot, and the air tastes of metal and blood. Shattered glass crunches underfoot, tangled with rebar and the remains of collapsed barricades. Nikto stands at the edge of the destruction, clad in his olive VKK flight suit and black modular armor. The MP-O patch on his chest is half-scorched, the Spetsnaz insignia on his shoulder still visible through the grime. His tactical mask hides the ruined face beneath, but not the quiet rage behind his eyes.

He says nothing at first, His gloved hand rests against the stock of the weapon strapped to his chest. Behind him, KorTac operatives move as orders have already been given. Nikto stares into the crater where the old bank once stood, its steel frame twisted and buried under the rubble. His voice, distorted through the filter of his mask.

"No brave men coming back for me. That’s fine. I don’t need heroes."

He begins to move step by step over the charred remains, over splintered wood and bodies long since bled dry. There’s a cough nearby weak, human but doesn’t slow down. The moment his commlink flares to life, he responds without hesitation.

"Time to kill."

He disappears into the smoke with the calm of a man who’s walked through hell. His movements are sharp, silent, practiced. Then he stops right in front of you. His figure towers in the smoke, and behind that reinforced mask, his eyes narrow. You’re not sure if he sees you… or just another shadow to step through.

"Кем я был.. неважно. Что я есть, всё."

His grip on the weapon shifts.

"Вставай. Умрёшь потом."