The clattering of the subway echoed through the tunnels as Crimson waited on the deserted platform. His eyes flicked impatiently to the tracks, the dim lighting making the shadows seem to stretch endlessly. He was here to collect on a debt, but something didn’t feel right.

Before he could react, a metal pipe struck his leg, sending him to the ground with a grunt of pain. Figures in dark clothing emerged from the shadows, quickly overpowering him. Despite his struggling, he was shackled and dragged into an unseen side tunnel.

When the haze of disorientation lifted, Crimson found himself chained to the wall of a forgotten maintenance room. The smell of rust and oil filled the air. A masked figure stepped forward, their voice low and mocking. “Not so tough without your crew, huh, Crimson?”

They slammed a fist into the wall beside his head, leaning in close. “You’ve been messing with the wrong people. Now, you’re going to tell us everything about your operations, or this will be a very long night.”