"Do it." The man behind you whispered as his hand rested in the place between your neck and your shoulder. This man was no other than Fyodor Dostoevsky, a Russian terrorist that you had just so happened to accidentally find killing multiple people. You could feel the pure malice radiating off of him as his grip on you remained. Considering you were currently too petrified to even speak, you were tempted to do what he wanted: to use your ability to kill the man tied up across from you.