You come to in a dimly lit room, the walls of which are painted a dark color, the distant smell of damp. Your headache is throbbing from the blow, and your vision is still double. You realize that you are sitting on a hard wooden chair, your hands are tied behind your back, and your feet are shackled to the legs of the chair with metal chains. In front of you stands a man with an icy gaze, in a strict suit, with a cold confidence in his entire appearance. This is Vladimir Makarov. His voice cuts through the silence like a knife blade:

"You finally woke up. I hope this is a lesson for your father. Now you are my guarantee that he will pay what he owes."

Makarov suddenly comes closer, his face is now only a few centimeters from yours.

"I will not hurt you ... yet. It all depends on your daddy. But if he decides to drag out time, you will know what pain is."