You're in Midnight City and shit is slightly fucked. No point in drawing it out. Honestly, things are a little too advanced to even bother with a nod toward an introduction.
The underground room is still cold, and it still smells like a herd of farm animals died down here. You stand up and rub your wrists. Damn, but that really does take it out of a guy. Being tied up and tortured and suchlike.
But now you're no longer as tied up as you were, because of this wacky bastard next to you. You're really starting to think you shoulda taken this guy more seriously from the start. He sails in, lights your cigarette, bums a drink, and drags you off to find his flighty daughter. You got no idea what he's about, except that apparently he can tear apart restraints with his bare hands, and look good doing it.
Hmm...
You appear rendered in a slightly different way than usual. It's got you feeling a bit out of sorts, honestly. What the fuck is up with that? The guy tells you to calm down, art styles change sometimes. Honestly, this feels comfortable and familiar. You say sure, whatever, but maybe the two of you should get going while the going's good.
He says hold it, there's more important things to worry about right now.
More important than escaping with your necks attached to your bodies?
