The room was surprisingly clean compared to the devastation in the rest of the building. Propaganda posters adorned the walls, their slogans exuding a cold madness:
"Freedom is slavery!""Strength is the true law!""Weakness is the original sin!""Torment is bliss!""Death is the beginning!"
A desk in the center of the room was covered with papers, neatly stacked. At first glance, everything seemed orderly, but the longer Endel looked, the more he felt that behind this cleanliness lay a twisted cruelty.
In the corner stood a man in a police uniform. His clothes were worn and dirty but still retained hints of former authority. The man was tall and thin, his face lined not from age but from endless tension and malice. His eyes shone with a strange, cold light, as if reflecting a mix of madness and absolute certainty in his own righteousness.
The man turned to Endel and smiled—a calm smile, yet one that carried a threat. His lips curved unnaturally wide, as if deliberately showing a joy he did not feel.
"Welcome, brave soldier," he said in a hoarse but confident voice. "You look strong, my dear friend."
Endel, whose face was hidden behind a soldier's mask, did not lower his weapon at the friendly tone. His gaze stayed fixed on the man, studying every detail. He noticed the way the man fiddled with the sleeve of his uniform, as if trying to remain calm, though there was something else in his movements—something Endel couldn't quite grasp.
"Who are you?" Endel asked, his voice hard.
The policeman took a step forward, and the light from the dim lamp illuminated his face. Now the dark circles under his eyes, the withered skin, and thin lips with their eerie grin were clearly visible.
"Just a man who cleanses this world of the weak," he said, spreading his arms and tilting his head back, looking at the ceiling as if presenting himself to some higher court.
Endel did not avert his gaze.
"You call murder cleansing?"
Returning to his previous stance, the policeman laughed, and the sound echoed through the room. It was loud but empty, devoid of joy or real emotion.
"Murder?" he repeated, tilting his head as he watched Endel like a predator sizing up its prey. "No, it's natural selection. This world is no longer for the weak. It is their sacred mission to disappear, making room for the strong."
His gestures became sharper, his movements theatrical, like an actor performing for an audience. Sometimes he clasped his fingers behind his back; sometimes he spread his arms wide, as if trying to convince the world of his righteousness.
Endel gripped his rifle tighter. He wasn't just facing a madman—he was facing a man who truly believed in his own madness.
A mad fanatic.
That was the only way to describe him.
"And the girl?" Endel asked, trying not to let the rage boiling inside him show. He nodded toward the door where Alice had remained.
"Alice? Ah, she is my little darling assistant." The policeman's tone shifted sharply, his voice softening, almost caressing, yet his words became even more terrifying. "She is the perfect tool to test people."
Endel felt blood rush to his head.
"A tool? She's a child!" he shouted, stepping forward.
The policeman did not flinch. He merely looked at Endel with a slight smirk, as if his words seemed naïve and foolish.
"She is alive, isn't she?" he replied calmly, shrugging. "That proves her strength. And strength—strength is all that matters."
Endel struggled to suppress the urge to pull the trigger immediately.
"She's not a tool. She's a human being."
"Humans, monsters, tools… what's the difference?" The policeman stepped sharply to the desk, leaning on it with his hands, staring at Endel with cold determination. "In this new world, weakness is a sin. She is useless. She must be destroyed."
His gaze was piercing, almost hypnotic. He seemed to savor every second of this dialogue, as if he considered himself the winner of some invisible game.
"And you?" Endel suddenly asked, his voice firm. "Do you consider yourself strong?"
The policeman straightened, his smile widening.
"Of course. I live. I create a new order. And you? You are just a soldier, a pawn hiding behind your rifle. Your goal is to obey your strong masters! Those like me!"
These words might have struck Endel if he were just a soldier, but he wasn't.
"You are weak and insignificant," the man said coldly, his voice sounding like a verdict. "Your strength is violence against the weak. But in the face of true threat, you will be the first to fall to your knees."
The policeman's expression shifted. His smile vanished, replaced by pure malice.
"Want to test it?" he hissed, stepping forward.
Endel raised his rifle, aiming it directly at the man's chest.
"Try it," he replied, suppressing the anger boiling inside him.
Silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating, as if time itself had paused. The man froze, fists clenched, but did not move.
Endel felt that the battle was still ahead, but he was ready.
…
The silence wrapped the room like a heavy blanket. Endel and the man calling himself a policeman continued to stare at each other. The tension between them grew, threatening to tear the air apart.
Suddenly, the man smiled broadly, sharply raised a hand to his forehead as if apologizing to his companion, and spoke in an unexpectedly friendly voice:
"Ah, forgive me, my dear soldier friend! How rude of me! I haven't even introduced myself! My name is…" He tilted his head slightly and continued, "Richard? And yours?"
Endel choked slightly in shock. Richard's behavior had shifted so drastically that it seemed a completely different person was standing before him. The cold, threatening gaze had turned warm, almost domestic, like a friendly neighbor popping in to say hello. Even his posture had relaxed—he crossed his arms casually, a soft smile on his face.
Endel froze. His instincts screamed danger, yet his mind could not make sense of it. Richard now appeared to be just an ordinary man. For a moment, Endel even felt tempted to say his real name, but something held him back. Something dark and sticky crawled inside him, whispering that this man was not who he claimed to be.
"Rodriguez," he said tersely, the first name that came to mind.
Richard's face lit up instantly, like a child receiving a long-awaited gift.
"Rodriguez! Ah, wonderful! A wonderful name!" He spread his arms in delight. But in the next second, his face froze briefly, his smile vanished, and his eyes narrowed strangely.
Endel tensed, watching Richard's change in expression. But immediately, he smiled again, as if nothing had happened.
"Pleasure to meet you, Rodriguez," he said warmly, his voice disarming once more.
Endel tried not to show his astonishment. All of Richard's sudden changes were disorienting, like watching someone expertly play multiple roles, switching between them effortlessly.
"Did you kill Alice's parents?" Endel demanded sharply, raising his rifle slightly higher, aiming at Richard's face.
Richard froze as if stunned by the question. His smile slowly faded, but instead of anger or indignation, he feigned deep shock. He covered his mouth with his hand, then spoke in a soft, almost reproachful tone:
"What terrible things you say, my dear friend."
He paused, as if considering something important, then added with a faint smile:
"No, of course not. Alice, the little girl, lied."
Endel frowned.
"You're lying."
"No, no, my friend." Richard theatrically spread his hands, as if convincing an invisible audience. "Allow me to prove it to you. Alice!" he suddenly called loudly, addressing the door through which Endel had entered minutes earlier.
Endel felt his muscles tense even more. Alice appeared in the doorway, still wearing her bloodstained clothes, her face expressionless as ever, indifferent to what was happening.
"Alice, tell the truth," Richard said gently, nodding at the girl like a teacher encouraging a student to make the right choice.
Alice looked first at Richard, then at Endel. Suddenly, a bright smile lit her face.
"He didn't kill them," she said calmly, smiling.
Endel felt something heavy collapse inside him. He blinked, trying to comprehend what he heard, but couldn't. It didn't fit in his mind.
"What?" he could only manage.
"He didn't kill them," the girl repeated, her voice firm and confident.
Endel stepped back, several steps, his gaze shifting between Richard and Alice, his rifle rising and lowering, aimed at one then the other.
"But you… You said…" he muttered, unable to believe what was happening, gasping for air.
"I lied," Alice said calmly, looking directly into Endel's eyes.
Richard watched with satisfaction, hands behind his back. His eyes glimmered, but the madness was gone, replaced now by cold calculation.
"See, my dear friend? I am not the monster you wanted me to be," he said, tilting his head.
Endel felt his legs give way. His mind refused to accept what was said. It all seemed unreal. Yet somehow, he believed Alice. Her words were too convincing.
"Why did you lie?" he finally asked, his voice trembling.
Alice paused briefly, then answered with a slight smile:
"Because I wanted you to believe."
Endel froze. His mind was a tangle. Alice, whom he trusted, now claimed she had lied. Richard, with his mysterious mannerisms, was drawing him deeper into this strange performance.
"Why did you lie?" His voice trembled, yet he did not remove his finger from the trigger, holding his rifle like his last lifeline.
Alice tilted her head slightly, her face still calm, but her eyes flickered with something strange—too deep and aware for a child.
"Because I wanted you to see the truth," she said.
"What truth?" Endel shouted, unable to contain himself.
Alice looked straight into his eyes, and her answer shattered the silence:
"You are not a hero."