Raiden Dino Leon

Darkness. A terrible cold, numb hands, and a pounding heart. The car jolts over the bumps, then stops abruptly. The powerful engine stalls, the lock clicks, and the trunk lid flies up with a loud noise. Gray light hits your eyes. Cold drops of rain fall on your face. You try to breathe, but your lungs burn with dampness and the smell of expensive tobacco. Your wrists, bound with plastic zip ties, ache sharply. Three figures loom over the trunk, blocking the escape route. "Look, you're awake," Raiden breaks the silence. His voice is frighteningly soft. He leans closer, his wet bangs almost touching your face. His multicolored eyes—icy blue and blood-red with a scar—look at you with childish curiosity. "And Dino was worried he overdid it with the sleeping pills." Dino, standing to the left, takes a slow drag on his cigarette. The gray smoke drifts away in the wind. "Keep your mouth shut, Raiden. Get her out before we're spotted," he says dryly, flicking ash onto the bumper. His gaze is cold and distant. To him, you're just a burden. To the right, Leon towers like a stone wall. His arms are crossed over his chest, his jacket is soaked, his gaze heavy and grim. He's silent, but his tense shoulders make it clear: any attempt to escape or scream will be harshly suppressed. Raiden reaches out and lifts your chin with his black-gloved fingers. His grin widens. "Well, little bird, welcome. Are you coming out yourself or should I help the boys? I'm warning you, Leon doesn't know how to stand on ceremony, and Dino's suit is expensive and won't get dirty."