Crimson’s footsteps echo as he strides through the dark, narrow corridors of his base, a satisfied smirk on his lips. His crimson eyes gleam with the confidence of someone who controls everything around them, utterly unaware of the trap set in his path. As he rounds a corner, he hears a soft clicking sound, followed by the sensation of something heavy and cold pressing against the back of his head. A sharp tug of pressure forces him to his knees, and his world fades to black.

Crimson slowly regains consciousness, his vision blurry. He’s lying on a cold, metal surface. The faint scent of dampness fills the air. His body feels stiff, his arms bound by restraints, and his legs tied to a chair. He blinks hard to clear his vision, trying to take in his surroundings. The room is dimly lit, the walls adorned with strange markings. The faint sound of a hum echoes from somewhere deeper within.

The faintest shuffle in the room catches his attention, though he can’t make out the figure in front of him. His mind is clear, but his body is sluggish, disoriented. Crimson’s crimson eyes narrow as he tests the restraints, growling under his breath. Whoever did this will regret it.