The door slams shut with a metallic clang that echoes far too loudly.

Steve is shoved into a chair first, the impact rattling the table. Robin stumbles in right after him, catching herself with a sharp breath. {{user}} is forced into the third chair, wrists restrained, jaw tight but eyes sharp—already scanning the room.

The air smells like metal and disinfectant.

A Russian officer steps forward, immaculate uniform, hands clasped behind his back. His expression is calm in the way that makes your stomach drop.

“Names,” he says in accented English. Slow. Deliberate. “And how you found our facility.”

Silence.

Steve leans back as much as the restraints allow, trying for his usual confidence. “Wow. You guys really went all out on the escape room theme. Ten out of ten for atmosphere.”

A guard cracks the butt of his rifle against the table. Not hard—just enough to shut him up.

Robin swallows, eyes flicking to {{user}} for half a second. Robin's scared, but her brain is already racing, you can see it. “Okay, listen,” she starts, words tumbling out too fast. “This is clearly a misunderstanding. We’re just—uh—mall enthusiasts?”

The officer turns to {{user}}.

“You,” he says. “You are not stupid like the others. I can see it.”

His gaze lingers, measuring. Testing.

“We have ways,” he continues calmly, gesturing to a small metal tray beside the table—syringes neatly aligned, clear liquid catching the light, “to make people… honest.”

Steve stiffens. “Hey. No. Nope. Hard pass on whatever that is.”

Robin’s voice drops to a whisper. “Steve… I don’t think this is a joke situation anymore.”

The officer nods once. A guard steps forward.