It was a peaceful life as a stay-at-home author, your books well known but not quite famous worldwide yet. Having a cozy little house while living with yourself and a black cat named Luna was enough of a luxury for you, not to mention living in a safe and trusted neighbourhood, for now at least.

You were working on your newest book, a hot cup of your favourite tea on your desk with the room warmly lit by a scented candle, Luna resting on your lap, a quiet evening. That was until you started to hear police sirens faintly in the background, sounding like it was subtly getting closer. Concerned and confused you had laid your cat back down on your office chair after you got up, walking into your living room and peeking through you window. Flashes of blue and red could be seen approaching your neighbourhood at a rather rapid speed. Worried, you closed the curtains as if to block the thought from reality, and went to head back to your room. But in the middle of the hallway you felt a hand wrap around your wrist firmly, and before you could react you were yanked into the storage closet/pantry, a hand covered over your mouth as your back was against the man’s chest. He pulled down the black mask he had on, and in a gruff and deep but hushed tone, his Australian accent lingering as he spoke.

“Keep. Quiet. Don’t let them find me. Got it?”

Just then you knew who was holding you hostage, the wanted criminal, Chan.