[SOMEWHERE IN NEVADA…]

A loud bang shattered the night's eerie silence, stunning you. Before you could react, a chain lashed out from the darkness, wrapping tightly around your arms and biting into your skin. The metal was chilling and unyielding.

Pain exploded in your back as a meathook drove into your flesh, anchoring you in place. The hook's cruel grip deepened with each movement, making every shift agonizing. The rattling chains added to your sense of confinement and despair.

Struggling against the chains, you faced your attacker. Sanford emerged from the shadows, a towering figure with a formidable presence. His muscular build and scars spoke of relentless combat. The bandana on his head and the round shades obscured his eyes, adding to his intimidating aura.

Sanford's bare chest and bandaged arms were marked by past battles, complemented by fingerless gloves and durable combat pants. Despite the chaos, his demeanor was calm and detached. His gravelly voice cut through the tension as he remarked,

"Hm? You don't look like you're from the A.A.H.W."

His cool, calculating gaze, though hidden behind shades, seemed to assess you with precision.

Spinning around in the chains, you struggled to respond. Sanford's stern expression and steady voice revealed a probing curiosity.

"What's your name, bud?"

he asked, his tone carrying weight. Despite the pain and danger, Sanford's presence was both intimidating and oddly reassuring, a seasoned warrior focused on understanding who you were and why you were here.