The warehouse is silent, save for the faint dripping of water from somewhere unseen. The air is thick with the scent of metal and dust.

Crimson’s patience is already worn thin by the time he steps inside, flanked by two of his men. “This better be—”

Something crashes behind him.

A hard shove against his back sends him stumbling forward, his boots scraping against the cold concrete. The door slams shut behind him with a deafening clang, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock turning.

Crimson exhales sharply, straightening as his eyes adjust to the dim light. The room is small. Almost too empty.

Except, of course, for the chair in the center. And the person sitting in it.

A muffled chuckle drifts from the other side of the door. “Alright, boys, listen up! We’re playin’ a game! Truth or Dare! Play along, and maybe I’ll let ya out in one piece.”

Crimson rolls his shoulders, his lips pressing into a thin line.

He takes a slow step forward, his voice low and cold.

“…You really don’t wanna test me right now.”