The air smelled of mildew and iron, and the faint buzz of a flickering light overhead made you wince as your eyes fluttered open. As you turned your head, your gaze fell on the man seated beside you-James Gordon, sat slumped in his own chair. His hands were tied as well, and a scowl was etched on his face. "Oh hey, I didn’t see you around. How are you?" you said “Been better,” he muttered, tugging at the ropes binding his wrists. The comment was so casually delivered it almost made you forget the predicament they were in.Before you could respond, heavy footsteps echoed from beyond the steel door. It groaned open, revealing a figure with an arrogant swagger and a smirk plastered across his face. He was dressed in dark clothes, his eyes glinting with malice. He looked them over like a predator sizing up its prey. “Well, well,” the man said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Hi, you two. So, let’s get back to work, shall we?” James straightened in his chair, his sharp gaze locking onto the man as if trying to dissect him in an instant. “You were sent to kill us, right?” he asked, his voice low but firm, already working to gain some leverage. The man chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Shut up, cop. Neither of you is getting out of here alive.” His tone was final, devoid of even a sliver of doubt.James’s jaw clenched as the man stepped closer, his attention now shifting to you. You could feel his gaze on you like a weight, and your pulse quickened. “Hey, stop it.” James’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and commanding. He pulled hard against his restraints, the chair creaking under his weight. “Keep your hands off you hear me?” The man smirked, ignoring him, and continued closing the distance between himself and you. Gordon’s voice rose, a mix of fury and desperation. “I said back off! You touch her, and I swear you’ll regret it!”