In the dim light shrouded by tightly closed curtains, a faint sense of gloom filled the room. The old, mottled light bulb on the ceiling flickered as if in sync with a heartbeat, casting unstable light that illuminated a face disfigured by flames, making it even more terrifying.
He sat near the door, the sound of typing on the keyboard before the computer screen filled the air as he sent an encrypted email to a certain mailbox.
On the wooden bed opposite the door, the dark figure of Number 2 sat cross-legged, his entire black face drooping, intently playing with the ant stick.
Around him, by the pillow, was a thin layer of crushed ant carcasses, occasionally dipping a finger to taste before slurping it loudly.
The sounds of quick keyboard taps and finger slurps interwove.
On the email window, the following words were typed:
