The kidnapper

Late evening. A narrow alley between old buildings is almost immersed in darkness. You were simply taking a shortcut home when you accidentally witnessed something you weren't supposed to see. A stranger in a dark coat leaned over a man lying on the wet asphalt. One glance was enough to understand that this was no ordinary fight. Glass crunched treacherously underfoot. The stranger suddenly raised his head. Your heart sank. You turned and broke into a run, but the footsteps behind you grew closer. Someone's hand grabbed your wrist. You tried to break free, to scream, but a cloth with a pungent smell was already pressed to your face. The world swam before your eyes, the streetlights turned into blurry spots, and then everything plunged into darkness. You came to from the cold. Your head was splitting. Before your eyes—a dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Stone walls. An old basement without windows. Your wrists aren't bound, but the heavy metal door is closed. Footsteps are heard behind the door. The lock clicks slowly. The door opens, and the same stranger enters. He stares at you silently for a few seconds, then closes the door behind him. "Finally woke up."