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2

The occupant of cell 3H actually slept with a stuffed animal. I couldn't comprehend which psychiatrist had advocated for him to have it, given his identity and deeds, but I was inclined to add them to my list of adversaries. The tally of individuals deserving retribution upon my release expanded with each passing day.

He scarcely uttered a sound when we apprehended him. I observed my men carrying him out of the cell. It was dark, and the guard shift change was deliberately postponed. Bruno didn't need to exert much pressure on them. Regardless of one's nature, if even a fragment of humanity remained, turning a blind eye to some traditional justice for a man like him was acceptable.

We escorted him to the shower block, facilitating easier cleanup.

He whimpered as he was thrown to the ground.

"Hello, Geraldo," Bruno addressed the trembling man. "That's your name, correct? Geraldo Townsend. Local coach and do-gooder. I heard you logged more hours of volunteer work this year than anyone else in the city. What a hero," Bruno chuckled, though his tone lacked warmth. "Though, I doubt the kids at the various foster homes you volunteered at would agree, would they?"

"I never—they lied," he stammered.

Bruno fell silent, visibly struggling to contain his rage.

"You're suggesting over thirty kids lied? And they all fabricated the same story? That's quite unfortunate luck for you, Geraldo."

Bruno stepped away, visibly agitated. I understood him. Men like Geraldo made me relish the act of killing. While there were likely individuals like Bruno and my brother, Kirill, who could dispatch Geraldo with detachment and necessity to prevent him from harming another child, they wouldn't derive pleasure from inflicting pain like I did. They wouldn't linger to witness the fading life. They didn't harbor a twisted amusement park of chaotic horror within their chests like I did. The world had begun its dizzying spin the day I learned of Valeria's death, and nothing had halted it since. It was akin to intoxication, where the world blurred and the heart raced, but it never abated. The remnants of my shattered sanity clung desperately as the carousel continued its unending revolutions within me.

Round and round the mulberry bush… pop goes the weasel.

Leaning against the doorway, I spoke as I lounged against the wall. "I'm afraid your streak of bad luck is set to continue. Do you know who I am?"

Geraldo blinked at me, visibly paling. He licked his lips nervously. "Yes, you're the Palach. The executioner."

"Wow, Niko, you're famous," Bruno chuckled.

"I'm flattered, but in this case, flattery will get you nowhere, Geraldo." I crossed the room towards him, pulling the stuffed toy from my pocket. The forlorn-looking rabbit was missing an eye.

"Here, you forgot something in your cell," I murmured, passing it to him as I crouched down to his level.

He took the rabbit and clutched it tightly, assuming a grotesque imitation of his victims.

"Since you're new here, let me explain how this place works. You're in here with hardened criminals, violent psychopaths… and that's just the guards. In here, there's no one small and meek for you to victimize. In here, you're the prey."

Geraldo whimpered.

"Do you know what most criminals have in common, Gerry boy?" Bruno chimed in, his grin sending chills down my spine. "They have families, kids, little innocent nieces and nephews, godchildren. Even the Palach has them."

Geraldo turned his terrified gaze back to me.

I smiled at him, unsettling him further. "That's right. Two, actually. I've never met them, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't kill for them, in their honor. A man who likes to hurt little kids needs to learn to play with boys his own size. What do you say, Geraldo? Do you want to play with me?"

Geraldo licked his lips, glancing fearfully around at the men watching us silently. My loyal followers.

"What kind of game?"

Bruno laughed, and I grinned.

"What kind of game would you like to play? How about… hide-and-seek? Or tag? Truth or dare?"

Geraldo moistened his lips. "Hide-and-seek."

"Ding-ding-ding, we've got a contender here." I stood and stepped back.

I nodded to one of my men by the door, and the lights abruptly went out, enveloping us in impenetrable darkness. My natural element.

"Hide, Geraldo. You have until the count of ten before I come looking for you."

His stumbling steps made him an easy target in the dark.

"One, two, three," I trailed off, moving effortlessly towards Geraldo's lumbering figure. I was accustomed to darkness. I had lived within it for seven years. Seven years of darkness and horror. Seven years to forget the starry skies of my childhood.

Seven years to forget her.

I had discovered that in seven years, I could forget many things, but I hadn't forgotten her. Every second we had spent together was etched into my memory, as indelible as the madness that tormented my mind.

Closing in on Geraldo from behind, he opened his mouth to scream, and I thrust the rabbit inside it, relishing every moment of his fear.

"Ten."

Then I withdrew Romero's shiv. It felt familiar in my hand.

Now, the fun part began.

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