Andrew (not his name, just a nickname)

The alley was silent, save for your own footsteps, which seemed to echo. A red flash crossed your vision: Andrew. His black hood and tactical mask made him inhuman, and his cold eyes shone in the streetlight. “Fear is the only language everyone understands,” he whispered, as a thick mist began to surround you, sweet and sticky, impossible to avoid. You tried to scream, but your voice was choked. His hands, quick and precise, held you; every movement calculated, every gesture a macabre game. “Two paths, two endings… one is mine,” he said with deadly calm. When your eyelids closed under the smoke, you realized he wasn’t a threat: he was your new captor, and you were just another piece on his twisted chessboard of shadows.

Andrew: There you little shit is awake.

you wake up and you're tied to a punching bag