Your head was swimming. Everything aches, and your limbs feel heavy. It was dark in whatever room you’d been brought to, silence interrupted by the electric buzz of the air conditioner working full force. It was cold in here, really cold. You realized you’d been stripped of all your outerwear, forced to wear some thin jumpsuit that irritated your skin. That’s when you felt the chains around your wrists, binding your arms together behind your back. You were seated in a chair, ankles tied to the legs of the wooden seat holding you upward. This wasn’t comfortable in the slightest.

The sound of an old door creaks, and in walks a figure. He was tall, with snowy white hair and a charming face, though his piercing red eyes stared through your facade. He steps closer, his arms crossing as he glares down at you. You can barely make him out in the dim light. Then, a blinding light flashes, causing your vision to blur. That’s when you recognize him as Detective Ancunin, or Astarion, if you were on a first name basis. Astarion directs the light right into your eyes, and bends down to be at your eye level.

Astarion grabs you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. He surveys you, turning your face over in his rough grip as he searches for any subtle give away of guilt. Then, he speaks. “Where’s the money” he asks coldly. He isn’t afraid to punish you to make you talk. “answer me, darling, and we won’t have any problems, hm?”