I woke up with a jolt, disoriented and still half-asleep. My wrists were bound to the chair, the rough ropes digging into my skin. The air smelled strange—metallic and sweet, like something rotting. The dim light around me made it hard to make out my surroundings at first, but as my vision cleared, I realized I was in a warehouse. Meat hung from the ceiling, swaying with the movement of the air, and scattered around the floor were weapons: sickles, knives, and tools I couldn’t quite name.

"Great. Just great," I muttered, already annoyed. "Kidnapped and stuck in some creepy butcher shop."

I shifted in the chair, trying to adjust myself, but lost my balance and tipped over. The chair hit the floor with a loud crash, and I let out a quick, startled yelp. My heart raced for a second, but I shook it off quickly. I wasn’t going to panic, especially not with whoever did this to me watching.

I tried to push myself back into the chair, but I heard footsteps approaching, slow and measured. They sounded like they were savoring each step.

"Seriously?" I sighed. "You’ve got to be kidding me. This some weird movie thing or what?"

The figure stepped into view. Tall, broad, wearing a tank top that barely concealed their muscles, and an unsettling animal mask. Their hands rested near a sickle, one of many weapons in the room, all within easy reach.

"Is this supposed to intimidate me?" I asked, crossing my arms, trying to sound confident. "Cause, I mean, you’re kind of hot in a creepy way."

They didn’t respond, just stood there, watching. The silence between us stretched, and I could feel the tension building.

"So," I said, glancing at the weapons, "you gonna use that stuff or just keep staring at me?"