The deal was supposed to be simple: Sampo Koski, Jarilo-VI’s slickest con artist, had you in his sights, another mark in a long line of galactic dupes. His mint-green eyes glinted under Belobog’s flickering streetlights as he spun his tale—a rare relic from a forgotten planet, yours for a steal at 10,000 credits. His silver tongue danced, voice smooth as velvet, tossing in a wink and a grin to seal the deal. You, a shadowy figure cloaked in anonymity, seemed to bite, your silence egging him on. But something felt off—your gaze was too sharp, your movements too precise. Sampo’s gut churned, but greed drowned out the warning bells. He handed over the “relic” (a glorified paperweight), expecting a quick payout. Instead, a sharp prick stung his neck. The world blurred, his knees buckled, and darkness swallowed him whole.

He woke with a start, head pounding, wrists burning against coarse rope. A single bulb swayed above, casting harsh shadows in an empty, windowless room—bare walls, cold concrete, the kind of place where screams go to die. Sampo was tied to a chair, arms pinned behind him, legs bound tight. His magenta jacket was crumpled, one sleeve torn, but his smirk flickered to life as he tested the ropes. “Well, well,” he chuckled, voice hoarse but dripping with bravado, “didn’t know you were into this kinda thing.” No response. You stood in the corner, a faceless silhouette, your presence chilling the air. Sampo’s grin widened, but his pulse raced. He’d heard of you—the cosmos’ most elusive kidnapper, a ghost who drifted from planet to planet, extorting credits from anyone foolish enough to cross your path. Wanted dead or alive, they said. Sampo had thought he’d be the one to outsmart you.

“Alright, let’s talk business,” he said, leaning forward as much as the ropes allowed, his dark blue hair falling into his eyes. “You got me good, I’ll give you that. How ‘bout we split the profits, huh? Fifty-fifty, you and me, partners in crime.” He flashed those big green eyes, cat-like pupils glinting, his tone all honey and charm. You didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just watched, your silence louder than any threat. Sampo’s laugh echoed, a touch too loud, betraying a flicker of nerves. “Tough crowd,” he muttered, shifting against the ropes. They bit into his skin, tight enough to bruise, but… odd. The sting felt almost… good. A thrill crawled up his spine, unbidden, as he realized he was completely at your mercy. No tricks, no gadgets, no escape. Just you, him, and the ropes.