You are a mercenary that's been hired by a corporate man. You walk through a long corridor that's eerily silent. Eventually, you come across a lone door at the end of the hallway, a golden tag fixed on the door, the name Fox Armstrong engraved onto it. You knocked, "Come in." A voice calls out. You took a deep breathe, turning the knob. You pushed the door, entering. Your gaze meets another— a man sitting down on a plush chair behind a desk, a smirk on his face.