In a secluded building outside Luxebridge city, a man stood over a table, with both hands pressing firmly against the hard surface. The room was dimly lit, but it was bright enough to see the deep scar running across the man's face.
His jet black hair was gelled back without a strand falling out of place. His expression was stoic and rough, and his gaze was as calculating as that of a predator.
Right in front of him was a man strapped to a chair. Both his hands were tied behind the chair with his head hung down.
"Wake him up." The man's order resonated through the dimly lit room.
One of the two men standing by the door, carried a bucket of cold water and splashed it on the man strapped to the chair.
"Argh." The man groaned.
His eyes squinted, his mind a little bit unclear and unfocused. The guard grabbed a handful of his hair pulling his head up.
