Chapter 21 · Three Men, One Clock

I woke up strapped to a chair.

Not the first time. Probably wouldn't be the last.

What made it weird was the guy across from me wearing my face.

And the other guy ten feet to my left. Also my face.

Three Marks. One room. Viktor leaning against the wall with a cigarette like this was dinner theater.

"Which one talks first?" Viktor said.

None of us answered. My wrists burned against the zip ties. I tested them. Tight. The room smelled like rust and old piss, concrete walls sweating under a single bulb. Standard intimidation setup except for the part where I was looking at myself twice over.

The Mark on the left had a split lip. The one across from me had dried blood under his nose. I didn't know what I looked like but my ribs were screaming so probably nothing pretty.

Viktor pushed off the wall. "You all remember dying?"

Silence.

"You all remember waking up in the apartment three days back?"

More silence.

He smiled. Not a good smile. The kind that came before pliers. "Then you understand the problem."

The Mark with the split lip spoke first. His voice was mine.