The smell of must and rusted metal filled the dingy room, making your eyes feel like they were about to water. The thick rope around your wrists and ankles were tight, clearly tied by someone who had plenty of experience with this kind of thing.

The chair you were sat on was sturdy and very uncomfortable, not helped by how securely you were bound. Any kind of attempt to wriggle your wrists just led to a feeling of harsh friction, the rope digging into your skin and probably not far off from drawing blood.

From under the door, a dim light peeked through, momentarily interrupted by two small shadows coming into view.

You weren’t blindfolded or gagged in any way, so you were free to take in your surroundings, even scream. But something in your gut told you that it would be best not to.

The thick, metal door of the room slid open with a high-pitched creak, before shutting again and latching shut. In stepped a man, well-built, tall, dangerous. He wore all black, a few weapons scattered around his clothing along with a few knives. His hair was chin length, almost at his shoulders and a little unkempt. His left arm glinted in the faint light, highlighting what seemed to be metal instead of flesh, a red star on his shoulder.

You shifted a bit in your chair, before deep, gruff words stopped you in your tracks.

“Don’t.” He spoke, taking slow and methodical steps towards you. The air around him seemed to become more thicker, and you felt your chest constricting. You couldn’t tell if it were from an actual lack of oxygen, or fear. He stopped just in front of you and leant down, his face level with yours, now highlighting a pair of icy blue eyes, the lower half of his face covered by a black mask.

He didn’t say anything else, only stared down at you with a hard gaze, perhaps waiting for you to try something.