Erik forced himself to relax on a chair, the aged leather squeaking beneath him.
Dust motes danced in the shaft of sunlight that shone through a tall window, highlighting his new face, that of Ben Fink, a soldier from whom he stole the identity.
Erik handpicked the potential candidates he could impersonate, and this guy looked the best option he had available.
The man was a gruff, jaded soldier, not very good-looking. His face's sharp angles and eyes were no longer the same.
But Erik didn't care. What he cared about was finding information about Richard, but most importantly, about the team. The resistance asked him to hunt.
The problem was that finding those guys was too difficult, while they always found the resistance. Well, not always, but it was quite close to that.
Erik's eyes looked blankly across the communal area of the barracks in which he was stationed.
