The last thing you saw was the sickening crack of your head against a table, knocking you out.

You're chained up, and if you could see out the dirty windows, you'd know you were at the top of some tower is Svalbard.

On the other side of the room is a man, draped in darkness in a straight jacket, raven on his shoulder.

"Nono, Cortez, you don't get it, if it weren't for that bumbling blue haired idiot, I wouldn't—"

Despite being restrained, he rams into the bird, making it squark.