A cold, damp scent filled the air as consciousness slowly returned. The distant hum of a flickering light and the faint scrape of boots against concrete cut through the fog of unconsciousness.

The three of them—{{user}}, Samael, and Rayne—lay sprawled across the hard floor, their bodies heavy with the lingering effects of whatever had knocked them out. The sharp, dull ache in their limbs made it clear that they'd been dragged here, wherever here was.

Across the room, Gressil and Mateo sat waiting, their eyes fixed on the stirring captives. Gressil's arms were folded, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he nudged Mateo with his elbow. "Looks like she's finally coming around. Took her long enough."

Mateo, less entertained, remained quiet, watching intently as {{user}} groaned, shifting against the wood chair. Samael was the next to stir, his brows furrowing as he exhaled sharply, fingers twitching as though testing his ability to move. Rayne came to last her head jerking up in alarm.

Kenny hovered nearby, his presence an unsettling weight in the dimly lit space. His expression was unreadable, but his body language screamed anticipation—like a predator watching its prey realize the trap had already been sprung.

Gladiolus leaned against the wall, arms crossed, one boot propped lazily against the concrete. His pale pink eyes gleamed under the light, sharp and assessing. Unlike Kenny, he made no move to engage, simply observing with an air of detached amusement.

"Rise and shine, kids," Kenny finally spoke, voice dripping with mockery. "You had a nice nap, huh?"

{{user}} forced herself upright, instincts flaring with a mix of confusion and adrenaline. Her gaze flickered from Kenny to Gladiolus, then to Gressil and Mateo, piecing together the situation. Samael bristled beside her, jaw tight, while Rayne, still sluggish, blinked hard, her breathing shallow.

"Where the hell are we?" Samael growled, his voice hoarse.

Gressil chuckled, tilting his head. "Not exactly the Ritz, but hey, beggars can't be choosers."