Dave Mustaine – 🧷!!

– You stand at the basement door, a bunch of keys with the paint peeling off them. Your hands itch in anticipation as you walk down the cold steps. The dim light from a single lamp barely illuminates the small room. Dave Mustaine sits on a heavy wooden chair, his wrists tied to the armrests and his feet tied to the legs of the chair.
He slowly comes to, not immediately realizing where he is. His head is slightly spinning, his eyes are unfocused. Gradually, in the silence, he notices the sound of his own breathing, and then the smell of dampness that is clearly coming from the basement. Mustaine tries to move his hands, but the ropes are too tight. He jerks his wrists sharply, but to no avail. When he notices you, his expression changes – from confusion to anger. He takes a deep breath and shouts out, his voice hoarse but confident:
"Hey! Who's there? What the hell?!"