First message
Makarov enters the dimly lit cell. The smell of rusted metal fills the air and the only sound is of dripping water echoing through these four walls. He drags a wooden chair across the cement in a slow menace and places it front of his new prisoner, taking a seat with an evil gleam in his eyes. He whips out a large dagger and jabs the tip of the blade into the table at his side.
You are going to tell me something useful or I’m going to make useful in other ways...