The rain seemed like a constant curse in that corner of the front. Thick, icy drops hit the muddy ground, turning the camp into a quagmire that stank of rot, gunpowder and death. Under the leaden sky, the sound of boots echoed with a heavy, almost funereal echo. In the distance, isolated shots could be heard, muffled screams and the incessant whispering of the wind, as if the war itself breathed in every corner.
Loona, with her black raincoat soaked and tight to her body, moved among the soldiers like a shadow. Her face, stony and sharp, showed no emotion as she supervised the arrival of a group of Republican prisoners. Each of them was chained by their hands, their bodies marked by hunger and abuse. But what captured Loona's attention was not the line of decomposed figures. It was him.
At the end of the group, Blitz walked with an eerie calm. His black hair, soaked by the rain, fell over his forehead, but he did nothing to push it back. His eyes, one red and one amber, glowed with a fire that seemed out of place on someone destined to die. He wore a tattered Republican uniform and boots that barely held together, but he walked upright, a lopsided grin dripping with sarcasm and defiance.
"That one's different," Loona muttered to herself, her voice barely a whisper under the pounding rain.
The cell was a cramped, gloomy space, barely lit by the light filtering through the rusty grates of the small window. The smell of dampness and earth permeated every corner, along with a faint metallic touch of dried blood. Blitz was sitting on the floor, his back against the cold stone wall, his wrists bound in front by shackles that had torn his skin. Despite his wounds, he maintained his characteristic smile, twisted and defiant, as if this were all a show staged just for his amusement.
When Loona entered, her boots echoed deeply in the corridor. He was wearing his perfectly fitted uniform, his cap tilted over his face, partially hiding his sharp eyes that had not stopped observing him since his arrival. At first glance, his figure could be mistaken for that of a young officer; his rigid and confident posture left no room for doubt about his authority. Yet something in the way she looked at him betrayed her: a flash of curiosity, perhaps even vulnerability, that she tried to hide beneath a layer of coldness.
"Are you having fun, Colonel?" Blitz asked, breaking the silence. His voice was low, raspy, as if every word were a challenge.
Loona stopped a few steps from the cell door. Her expression didn't change, but her eyes narrowed slightly.
"And you?" she replied, her tone clipped, almost mechanical.
Blitz let out a low, husky laugh that echoed in the small cell as if it bounced off every wall.
"Oh, sure. This is luxury compared to the front. Good food, company… and, of course, someone as lovely as you to supervise me." She raised her shackled hands, letting the shackles jingle as she sat back in an exaggeratedly relaxed posture.
Loona pursed her lips. She didn't know if it was Blitz's impertinence or his strange charisma that unnerved her. Something about him made her feel uncomfortable, as if he could see through the facade she had carefully built up over the years.
"Keep your sarcasm," he finally said, his tone lower, more restrained. He took a step closer to the cell, his boots splashing lightly in the water that had pooled on the floor. "I'm not here to entertain you."
Blitz watched her in silence for a moment, cocking his head like a curious dog. His smile faded for just a moment, long enough for Loona to notice something behind his mask of irony. Something she couldn't quite place.
"So, why are you here?" he asked, his tone softer, almost serious.
Loona didn't answer right away. She moved closer to the bars, until the distance between them was reduced to a couple of steps. From there, she could see in more detail the wounds on Blitz's face, the cuts that crossed his cheekbone and the swelling on his jaw. It was clear that he had withstood interrogation, perhaps even torture, but he showed no signs of having broken.
"You want to know why I'm here?" he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him with her gaze. "I'm here because I can be. Because I'm the one who decides whether you live or die."
Blitz stared at her silently, letting her words hang in the air for a moment. Then, his smile returned, wider than before.
"Interesting philosophy," he commented, his tone almost mocking. "But let me guess… you don't come here just to remind me that you have power. No, no. You come here because you want something."
Loona felt her muscles tense. She took a step back, as if Blitz's proximity was suddenly dangerous.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, his tone sharper.
Blitz let out a soft laugh, leaning forward slightly, just enough for his eyes to meet Loona's.
"Oh, of course I do," he replied, whispering now. "You're not like them. There's something about you that doesn't fit. You know how I know? Because you have those eyes… those damn eyes of someone who hates themselves more than anything else."
Loona felt like a dagger had been stabbed into her chest. His words were like poison, slow but relentless, eroding the barrier she had worked so hard to build.
"Shut up," she said, but her voice trembled slightly, and Blitz noticed.
"Ah, did I touch a nerve?" she asked, smiling again, but this time her tone was more serious, almost compassionate. "Listen, I don't know who you really are, but what I do know is this: you can't hide from yourself forever."
The Beginning of the Breakup
Loona clenched her fists, wishing she could shoot him right then, end this conversation that had become more intimate than she could bear. But instead, she took another step back, away from the bars.
"You'll end up just like the others, Blitz," she finally said, regaining her cold tone. "And when you do, I won't be the one to shed a tear for you."
Blitz tilted his head, watching her with a mix of curiosity and sadness.
"I don't care about that," he replied softly. "The only thing I care about is what you'll do when you no longer have anyone to fight."
Loona turned on her heel and walked out of the cell without looking back, letting Blitz's words echo in her mind like a persistent echo.