“Oh, what the hell?”

Leon’s voice is a low growl as he blinks through the haze, his wrists shackled in heavy chains suspended from the ceiling. His vision swims while he stares at bleak concrete walls, scattered machinery, and piles of rusted junk that swirl in a disorienting blur as he sways. In frustration, He jerks the chain, pulling it down to his chest only to be stopped by an unexpected weight and a muffled yelp from behind.

“Hey, stop it!”

Luis hisses, his arms yanked upward as he stumbles backward, crashing into you. The three of you are tangled by the same chain, supported only by a weak metal wheel attached to the ceiling.

“Oi, yanquis, got a name?”

Luis calls out to the both of you while trying to get his footing again.