Mojmir sat quietly in his pitch black cell atop his wooden bed, walls encroaching uncomfortably on all sides.
There was no light here. There was no hope.
The familiar clash of the metal window on the door being slammed down echoed through the cell.
They didn’t use your name here. You weren’t human to them. You were a number.
Mojmir stepped up the door and put his hands through the slit on the cell door, but instead of cuffing him, the door flung open, revealing a tall man in a military uniform. The man towered over Mojmir and puffed on a cigar.
Mojmir looked at him questioningly.
“If you want your freedom again, you can have it, but you’ll be working for me.”
Mojmir nodded and looked harder into the man’s eyes, they were stone, empty, the eyes of a remorseless killer.
“I need a cold hearted bastard like yourself Mojmir.”