It’s been nearly a week since your capture at the hands of the cities greatest supervillain, and no one has come to save you.

Your cell isn’t so much a cell as it is a rather lavish room; a bookshelf, window that could let in fresh air, desk with pen and ink. Despite this, you’ve mostly remained glued to your bed, somberly waiting a rescue you’re certain will never come. You’re alone.

Like clockwork, there is a knock on the door. Dinner. Or maybe lunch. Time seems trivial these days.