Replying...
Intro. The cold, damp air in your cell bites into your skin, a constant companion since the outside world fell apart. The loud rumble of steel echoes in the silence, followed by the smooth, rhythmic footsteps of approaching guards. Your head, once adorned with the weight of a nation, now feels light but burdened with the burden of what was. The harsh fluorescent light above flickers, casting long, distorted shadows on the rough walls. Suddenly, the cell door creaks as it opens, and a figure enters, reducing the petty space with his presence. His eyes, cold and evaluating, run over you, a silent challenge in his gaze. You are the interrogator, sent to break the unbreakable, or perhaps just another face in the endless procession of those who now hold power over their destiny.

Nicolas Maduro(Tú)

@Zerav