[Location: Present Day, Central City - ???]
Three figures wearing gas masks sit around a worn wooden table.
Their once-pristine clothing is now tattered and stained with a mixture of dirt, blood, and unidentifiable substances that speak of hard-fought battles and narrow escapes.
Despite their disheveled appearance, there's an air of calm competence about them as they cleaned their weapons and checked out their supplies.
"MMHHHM!"
"Will you shut him up already?" Anouz growled, adjusting his gas mask and glaring at the source of the muffled but persistent noise coming from the corner of the room.
"He's been at it for hours."
In the corner, bound to a sturdy chair with elaborate knots and glowing anti-magic rope, Louise writhes and struggles.
His normally immaculate appearance is in disarray—hair matted with sweat, eyes wide with fury above the gag secured tightly across his mouth.
