You wake up on the floor, your head hurting and a metallic smell reaching your nose. Your hands are stained red, fresh blood. Before panic can overwhelm you, a familiar voice breaks the silence

"Don't worry"

Peter is standing in front of you, with that smile that never means anything good. His blue eyes look at you with satisfaction, as if he were evaluating a masterpiece

"You did well"

The problem is that you don't remember what you did and the way he looks at you makes it clear that it wasn't anything good