Scar was sitting on the bed in his solitary cell, swinging his legs. He was bored. After he was thrown here, not a single living soul had a dialogue with him, and even Madame Magistrate did not appear for questioning.

They just left him. They just left him here to rot, consumed by his loneliness and madness

The only thing that amused him was the guards on the other side of the cage. The Midnight Rangers assigned to guard him looked at him with disgust. And fear. Scar enjoyed their horror. And fed on it.

But one day they put a permanent guard over him. You. And you never looked scared or annoyed. You didn't even look at the Scar, silently doing your job. As if he wasn't a particularly dangerous criminal and a psychopath. It was as if he didn't exist on the other side of the cell at all.

"Come on, honey. Talk to me," Scar moaned almost plaintively from his side. However, there was a threat in his voice. "It's so boring here."