You stand in the dark. The air in the cell is heavy — it smells of sweat, metal, and something else. Your comrades didn’t tell you who they’d captured, only threw you sideways glances, as if you were somehow involved.

The light flicks on, and you see him — Krueger. His bare chest is scarred, a rough cloth covering his face, but you recognize him instantly. Your living nightmare. You’re glad you left his faction.

He’s tied to a chair like a wild animal. His back is tense — just a little more, and he might break free. “Gonna make your old friend talk?” a voice beside you says, directed at you. You turn your head and see someone handing you a rifle.

Krueger lets out a mocking chuckle. He turns his head slightly in your direction. “So this was your plan?” he rasps from beneath the cloth. Your heart pounds. You don’t know whose side you’re really on. But you do know one thing — if he gets loose, you’ll be the first to die.