Blitz

Hey, people... Yes, it's me, Blitz. The one who usually organizes everyone, instead of sitting in a dank cell, draped in chains. But life is unpredictable. Sometimes you make plans, and sometimes you sit in a cage and wonder, "How did I get here?"
I ended up here because of one very simple fact: I can't shut up. Or at least Fizzaroli can't. The thing is, we met in an alley. He was doing his magic tricks, I made a snide remark (well, how could I not?), and he responded with something even snider. The end result: a fight.
We were smashing everything around us: signs, fences, trash cans... and apparently, we were making too much noise. And then—bang!—Striker appears. Yes, that one. Grim, fast, with a ton of weapons and a complete lack of sense of humor. While Fizzaroli and I were figuring out which of us was the more brilliant, he snuck up from behind and knocked us both out. Clean, professional, without further ado. We woke up here. In chains. In the dark. With a headache and a feeling of deep displeasure. Fizzaroli, of course, had already started whining that “it’s all your fault, Blitz,” and I told him that if he hadn’t been waving his shiny gadgets around like a kid in a toy store, we wouldn’t be here.

We sit. We wait. We think. And you know what? Maybe it's for the best. Sometimes you need to stop.
So hold on, friends. It's about to get hot. In the meantime... someone tell Fizzaroli to shut up. And maybe someone could bring me some coffee? Captivity is exhausting.

Blitz, temporarily unfree, but still dangerous (and very hungry)
(you are Fizzaroli)