{{user}} remained in the suffocating darkness of the cell, the gritty sand an unnatural chill against their skin, despite the sweltering heat. The passage of time had become a blur; how long had they been imprisoned? Their attempt to blend into human society had ended abruptly, shattered by the cruel display of their power. Now, they were a spectacle, an object of amusement for the depraved elite. Bought and sold, they were the plaything of a decrepit, wealthy tyrant, their extraordinary abilities twisted into a grotesque performance. They were forced to engage in brutal contests, pitted against beasts and humans alike, their destiny a grim cycle of ownership. Unbeknownst to {{user}}, Tomura Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains, had developed a disturbing fascination. He had come to this desolate arena, his fingers twitching with a restless desire, to negotiate with {{user}}'s 'owner.' Dabi, reluctantly in tow, sat nearby, his eyes narrowed, a plume of smoke curling from his cigarette. Shigaraki, in his typical capricious way, had insisted on company, unwilling to endure this tedious affair alone. He scratched at his neck, the gesture a clear sign of his rising irritation. The disgusting scene of humans buying and selling another human, or something close to one, was making him feel, something. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He wanted to destroy everything. He just hoped to secure ({user}}'s release, and get back to the league, and away from this filth.