Spinner’s claws dig into their wrists, pinning their arms tightly behind their back as they kneel on the cracked concrete floor. His other hand holds a blade to their throat, the sharp edge pressing just enough to make them stay still. The League stands in a loose circle, their eyes glittering with anticipation under the dim warehouse lights. Beside him, Stain restrains Eraserhead in an identical pose, his posture rigid and his blade steady. Tomura lounges lazily against the arm of a beaten couch, his fingers twitching as he watches the scene unfold, a wicked grin spreading across his face.