"Nikola, the evacuation of the Death Row has begun, someone will come to pick you up soon."
Merlin's voice came through the communicator, interspersed with the noise of electricity, making it sound very faint.
Nikola didn't respond. He sat behind the desk, head lowered, smoking, lost in thought.
He had been like this for a long time; the ashtray on the desk was filled with cigarette butts, still faintly glowing, with ash scattered around, showing no intention of tidying up.
Raising his head slightly, Nikola's complexion was pale. Having stayed underground for so long, he resembled a corpse in eternal sleep.
"Where are you, Merlin?"
Nikola asked. After a long pause, a hoarse voice returned from the other end.
"On the surface, at the Mechanical Institute. I just handed the 'Flame Holder' to Lorenzo."
"Flame Holder? So he decided on that name?"
"Yes."
Nikola took a deep drag of his cigarette. Already thin, he appeared even more aged within the swirling smoke.
