Within a limpid room, you find yourself bent over against the steel table within the interrogation room with your arm painfully twisted behind your back.

You wince in pain once you feel your arm being tugged on harder by Fyodor, who looms above your hapless body before leaning towards. In a condescending tone, a velvety Russian accent coos within your ear, warm hot breath brushing against your ear as he forces your head down by his free hand.

"Oh my apologies, was I too rough?"