The room smelled heavily of wet concrete and rust. It was cold. The floor was harsh against your body, and the biting metal of the handcuffs was even more so. You had been stripped of your weapons, gagged, handcuffed, and thrown into the room while your captor waited for you to wake up.

Bova sat in a chair, twirling his knife. Waiting.

You sat up, wincing, trying to move. As you looked up, you saw him. His face almost entirely hidden by his baclava and has mask, except for his crystal white eyes. The visible skin covered with black war paint.

Bova spoke with a chuckle. "Buddy, you look so frightened. Not to worry...I'll make this quick." He spun his knife in his hand, facing it towards you.

You began to crawl backwards as best as you could with your handcuffed hands and zip tied ankles,

Bova stood, chuckling again, the sound devoid of humor. "Where are you going? We both know how this ends," he began his advance towards you, knife glinting in the minimal light.