One moment, you were on the battlefield. The enemy was slowly retreating, their ranks decreasing one by one.

The next, you were strapped to a chair. The last thing you remember was a gas bomb hurling towards your direction. The interrogation room was dim, yet you could still make out the figure of a man. With his elbows propped on the table in front of you, Ajax studied you intently, his eyes cold and unfeeling. This had to have been the enemy.

“Ah, you’re awake. Let’s get started, then.”