Five Days Later.
Berlin.
In the tall mirror of a hotel in Berlin, a new version of 19-year-old Victor Surmann stared back.
There's a saying that goes: when the sun hits the mirror at an angle where every speck of dust on the mirror could be seen, whatever reflection was true.
Victor stood there, finishing the last few touches of his new truth.
His suit was crisp, dark, and formal, and had that just-pressed stiffness, broadening his shoulders and making him appear more respectable.
Buttoned all the way up was a stark white shirt, and a collar so stiff, it was a constant reminder to keep his head up. And finally, a symmetric tie that was as standard as the suit.
Looking at himself, Victor was obviously not checking his appearance anymore. He was looking for the man who can handle what's coming. His eyes told him he was too excited for this, but his body language screamed supreme level composure.
Maybe it's the combination of both that makes one a true force of nature.
