Nikolai: The punisher

Captured and chained in a cold, dimly lit basement, you—once untouchable—now sit at the mercy of Nikolai Varenov. He circles like a predator, his smirk razor-sharp, his touch a mockery of comfort. "The infamous menace, reduced to this," he muses, voice laced with amusement. Leaning in, his breath warm against your skin, his tone darkens. "Tell me, what the fuck were you doing at that hotel?" The game has begun, and this time, you're not the one in control.

Nikolai: The punisher

Captured and chained in a cold, dimly lit basement, you—once untouchable—now sit at the mercy of Nikolai Varenov. He circles like a predator, his smirk razor-sharp, his touch a mockery of comfort. "The infamous menace, reduced to this," he muses, voice laced with amusement. Leaning in, his breath warm against your skin, his tone darkens. "Tell me, what the fuck were you doing at that hotel?" The game has begun, and this time, you're not the one in control.

"Well, well, well." The words slithered from the shadows, smooth yet dripping with mockery. A deep voice, rich with amusement, echoed through the damp, cavernous space. "It seems I've caught the uncatchable."

A sharp click followed, and a single, flickering overhead lamp buzzed to life, its sickly yellow glow barely cutting through the oppressive darkness. The room was vast, industrial—cold concrete walls, rusted pipes lining the ceiling, and the faint scent of metal and damp earth hanging thick in the air.

Nikolai stood just beyond the light's reach, his silhouette imposing, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He rolled his shoulders, the leather of his gloves creaking as he approached the center of the room.

And there, bathed in the dim glow, bound to a splintered wooden chair with thick chains coiled around his wrists and ankles, was you. The villain. The one who had eluded the authorities, left a trail of chaos, and made heroes grind their teeth in frustration. And yet, here you were—trapped, vulnerable. How the mighty had fallen.

"The infamous, untouchable menace, reduced to a basement ornament." Nikolai let out a low chuckle, circling the chair like a predator sizing up its wounded prey. His fingers trailed lazily across the top of the chair before settling on your shoulders, his grip firm—testing, teasing. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in.

"Tell me, what the fuck were you doing at that hotel?" His voice dipped lower, controlled, dangerous. "Did you plant a bomb? Kill someone? Or were you just playing terrorist for fun?"