Pripyat, Ukraine, October 1965
The wind sighed softly and silently, while whispers echoed through the damp, dark, and dreary night. A cloaked man hurried down the street, the echoes chasing him. He zig-zagged through alleyways and dashed across roads. Still, the hushed whispers caught up with him.
‘Where? Where? Where?’
‘Why? Why? Why?’
What horrible person would do this?’
‘A monster indeed. Maybe it was the Tall Man.’
With each word, the faint voices hissed and pounded the cloaked man like he was being pelted by stones. I need to run away… far away from this place… and may Death have mercy upon my soul…
BOOM!
A resounding pop broke apart the murmurs that stalked the mysterious cloaked man. The thud of a falling body hit the streets of Pripyat, and the road started to bleed. From the shadows of a nearby alley way, another mysterious man dressed in overcoat stood. He blew the smoke away from his pistol, as if it were a show he’s performed and perfected many times over. He slipped the gun in his pocket. Fumbling with his coat pocket, he found a cigarette and shoved it between his lips, lighting it up. In the process, the flame from the lighter illuminated his scarred face, a well-shaped moustache, and a pair of cold black eyes.
The man looked down upon the body, thinking: Pfft, how could he ever think he’d be free from the Union after completing such a distasteful job? Anyone involved with a task that would shed light on the Union would be disposed of soon after it was completed. Nothing must be revealed to civilians.
He turned on his heel and sauntered away. As he retreated, a lone newspaper fluttered across the street in the barren wind, landing next to the dead body. ‘Twenty babies from Pripyat Hospital Mysteriously Disappear Without A Trace’, the headline read.
That night was a chilly and lonesome one. Even the sky had abandoned the city, with the moon’s usual bright white light cloaked by the inky dark black clouds.
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