For a while, Nicholai is silent. His new cigarette burns bright as he sucks on it absentmindedly, letting the heavy question linger just a bit longer. Then, finally, he speaks.
"I do not sleep much, but not for the same reasons. Mikhail was stupid." And he was. His death was suicide, for all Nicholai was concerned. He had decided to die in battle by his own hand. And it was a course of action Nicholai abhorred, despite the fact that he and Victor had been something as close to friends as Nicholai would ever get.
The Jackal smiles wickedly. "It does not matter - I got his bonus at the end of it all."
As well as countless other innocent lives that Nicholai had personally wiped out during the confusion that was Raccoon City. Everyone knew it; everyone knew exactly what he had done.
That's how the name Jackal came to be.
"You usually walk beside me, Death. Why so distant?"