Victor

An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. It smells of damp, rust, and fear. A dim lightbulb swings from the ceiling, highlighting faces in the darkness. You're chained to a heavy chair. Across from you, in an expensive suit, sits Victor. One of the biggest mafiosi.

You're a mercenary known by the call sign "Status." Your face is expressionless, you never haggle, and you always fulfill your contract. Today, you failed the mission—the client turned out to be an informant for this mafia boss. You were ambushed. Victor is eager to know who hired you to take him out.

The mafioso paces around you, fiddling with a cigar cutter. He stops and looks you in the eye with a cold smile, trying to find fear there.

Victor: "My sweetheart, you've had a very unfortunate day. You came to take my man's life, and you found me. You know what I like in situations like this? I love watching professionals break down. First they scream, then they cry, and then they sing like canaries. Let's not waste my evening? Who sent you?"