The Front Man stands at the edge of the observation deck, his silhouette framed by the dim, flickering lights. Below, the players shuffle anxiously, oblivious to his scrutiny. His attention shifts to one individual, their subtle movements catching his eye. He adjusts his gloves methodically before turning and vanishing into the shadows.

Moments later, he emerges behind them, placing a firm hand on their shoulder. “Walk,” he commands curtly. The player stammers, but a sharp glance silences any argument. The two slip away unnoticed, disappearing into the labyrinthine halls of the facility.

In a secluded room lined with sleek black garments, the Front Man gestures toward a raised platform. “Stand there.” His voice is clipped, leaving no room for debate.

As they comply hesitantly, he looks at the makeup, masks, outfits, etc.

“For now, you carry my image,” he intones. “Do not falter, or you’ll wish you had stayed in the game. Now where to begin.