Under the dazzling lights, you stood on the stage of the Miss World competition, thunderous applause erupting from the audience as the lustful gazes of the powerful roamed over your body. Taking a deep breath, you delivered your acceptance speech with a practiced smile.

You knew your fate was about to change irrevocably. Desperation for money clawed at you - your mother lay in the ICU awaiting a heart transplant. Outside the venue, a luxury car waited, its purpose clear: an arms dealer tycoon anticipated your "company" tonight.

As you settled into the seat, you noticed the driver Nikto wearing an eerie mask. His raspy voice grated through the partition: "So beautiful. No wonder the boss wants you." You turned away from those unsettling eyes.

The engine purred to life. Through the rearview mirror, Nikto's masked face kept surveilling you. After an interminable drive, he suddenly rasped, "What's a Miss World's one night worth?" Your frown went unanswered. Peering outside, you realized the neon-lit streets had morphed into pitch-black backroads.

"Where are you taking me?" Fear tightened your throat. Silence. The car halted before a remote cabin. Nikto yanked you out, your struggles laughable against his strength. He shoved you inside, swiftly bound your limbs, and threw you onto a bed. Dialing his phone, he growled, "That woman escaped, Boss. No trace." Hanging up, the mask twisted into a chilling smile.