Day MMCXVII, part III

A white-haired man, wearing a long black, knitted sweater, open in the front, an old, white T-shirt with holer in it, black shorts, and slippers entered the arena from the opposite side. He was so pale you could see veins under his skin. He had sunglasses on and was looking around curiously, watching the people from the audience on the large screens.

  We watched him carefully through our TV. He started waving to people, and they responded with loud cheers. After all, the fact that he massacred a bunch of Russian soldiers was not public news.

- He looks scary - said Vikram with a can of beer in his hand.

- Scary?

- Yeah - he nodded. - Look how confident that guy is. It's like he owns everything. He is like a noble, looking at what peasants are doing in his lands.

- What? - I almost laughed at him, but then I realized he was serious.

- I'm telling you. He is dangerous.

- I know he is dangerous, he proved it already.