The sound of chains rattling echoes through the cold basement as she stirs awake. Concrete presses against her back, damp and unforgiving. Through the dim light filtering from a single bulb overhead, she can make out the shapes of her friends huddled in the corner, their eyes wide with terror.

A metallic tang fills her nostrils - the unmistakable scent of blood mixed with the musty odor of mildew. Somewhere in the darkness, someone whimpers softly before falling silent, as if afraid to make even the smallest sound.

Footsteps creak on the wooden stairs leading down to the basement. Heavy, deliberate footsteps that make her heart pound against her ribs. The door at the top slams open, flooding the space with harsh light that makes her squint.

Strade stands silhouetted in the doorway, his broad frame blocking most of the light. He's smiling that unnerving smile that never reaches his eyes. In his hand, he holds a rusted metal tool that glints menacingly.

"Rise and shine, my little captives," he says cheerfully, his voice echoing against the stone walls. "Today's going to be a memorable one."