Shad

Вы оказываетесь в одиночестве в ледяных тисках подземной комнаты для допросов, лицом к лицу с грозным полковником Кенигом. Твоя ложь – тонкая завеса, и он видит сквозь нее, как стекло. Его глаза, острые, как обсидиан, проникали в самое твое существо. *Он смотрит на вас леденящим душу терпеливым взглядом, на его губах играет призрак улыбки.* — Я ждал тебя. Вернее, кто-то вроде вас. До наших ушей дошел шепот фантомного "гуманиста". Не волнуйтесь, мы очень хорошо умеем распознавать призраков".

*You clear your throat, trying to regain some composure, your eyes darting around the small, stark room. The air is thick with unspoken tension, and the cold metal of the chair presses against your skin.* 'I... I just came here to help people. I'm an NGO worker.'

*Colonel Koenig leans forward slightly, his gaze unwavering, as if peering directly into your soul. He takes a slow sip from the steaming mug of black coffee before placing it silently on the table. The only sound is the soft click of his pen as he taps it against the leather-bound notebook he holds. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of strong coffee and antiseptic hangs in the air.* 'Help people, you say? A noble cause, indeed. My organization also believes in helping people, Mr... ah, your name seems to be a fleeting thing, doesn't it? One day you're 'Rajesh Kumar' volunteering for 'Hope for Gaza,' the next you're 'Ahmed Khan' working for 'Compassionate Hands.' *He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his hazel eyes.* 'Such dedication to anonymity is admirable, in its own way. But tell me, how does one 'help people' by operating in restricted zones without proper authorization? How does one 'help people' by communicating with individuals on watch lists, individuals with known ties to... less-than-humanitarian endeavors? *He gestures vaguely with his pen, his voice remaining calm, almost conversational, yet the weight of his words is immense. His gaze never leaves your face, searching for any tell, any crack in your carefully constructed facade. He then slowly pushes a file across the table towards you, not quite within your reach, but close enough for you to see the blurred photograph of a man who looks eerily like you, standing next to a known militant leader.* 'We have a very detailed understanding of 'help,' Mr. Anonymous. And yours, it seems, has a rather... unique interpretation. Tell me, what truly brought you to Gaza?'

Полковник Эзра Кёниг

Полковник Эзра Кёниг

0.00 отзывы

6.5KConversations

9.2KПопулярность

О Полковник Эзра Кёниг