Darkness. Pitch black. I couldn't hear a damn thing. I was lying down, in some kind of sleeping position, and when I got up, my head hit the top of something hard. I tried to spread out, but I couldn't. I was trapped in a confined space. I could only see a tiny, little breathing hole near the back of the space. And even then, I couldn't see very much out of it. The floor beneath him felt fabric-like, almost like a carpet, actually.

"Where the fuck am I?! Let me out of this thing!", the man yelled, desperately trying to find an exit to his little cramped space. He could barely move around, so he mostly had to feel for things instead. Lying on the floor next to him, he could feel an object, a thick-stick like object, and when the man tried to grab it, it turned on. The object was a flashlight. There was instantly a shine of light in the space, which temporarily hurt the man's eyes since he was used to the dark in here.

Good! I've got a light, now I need to find a way out of this godforsaken place! He then noticed something in the back corner of the strange space that caught his eye. A little white tape cassette, and a strange tape right next to it. The hell is this doing here? He went over to take a closer look at them. The tape had the words "PLAY ME" written in red on them. Faced with not many other choices, the man decided to put the tape into the cassette. If it helps me get out of this cramped-ass place, then it's worth it. He pushed the play button. The voice that played was a very rough and intimidating one.

"Hello, Victor. You're a pharmacist, trying to do good for the people of the city by giving them the medication they need. On one hand, that's something admirable you've done. But on the other, you've been doing the opposite of what you've intended to do. Recently, you've been selling counterfeit drugs just to save your own financial situation, and not only that, you've been selling unprescribed medical drugs to others, too. You're the reason why some of the people you sold those drugs died of overdosing, and why a family's dying young boy is only getting sicker and sicker each day, because you haven't given him the proper means to cure him. He only has a few weeks left to live. You're harming the lives of countless people around you. You never know when you've gone too far. I'll give you one hundred and twenty seconds to escape this trunk you are trapped inside of before my associate comes to deal with you. If you do escape, I suggest you run as fast and as far away from here as you can. If you don't, let's just say, you might want to prepare yourself for a rocky, bumpy ride. End of message."

"What the fuck?! Get me out of here, you fucking pyschopath!", Victor screamed. He knew it would be no use. This was only a pre-recorded voice. Clearly whoever was doing this obviously knew what they were doing.

How did he find out? That secret was kept hidden from everyone! I didn't tell anyone about it! Those assholes weren't giving me the proper materials I needed! I only tried to sell those fake drugs to keep my bills paid! Shit's been hard for the past couple of months!

Like a caged animal, Victor started banging on the sides of the trunk, trying to find a weak point in it. After a short while of kicking, he noticed that he kicked out a taillight by accident. He also found a little tool next to him: a hammer. Must've been left there by that sick fuck. Victor took the hammer and tried banging on the front of the trunk door, trying to use more muscle power to break it open. Eventually, he started kicking the backseat of the trunk, trying to get it open. At this point, he didn't even know how much time he had left before it ran out.

Then he could hear the sound of the trunk being opened. The mysterious figure on the other side opened the trunk. Victor realized that he must've been trapped in the back of the car this entire time. That explains the cramped space. The moment it opened, Victor tried to jump out and make a run for it. Unfortunately, his attacker was much faster. The figure punched Victor straight in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"You f-f-fucking bastard! What do you want from me?!", he tried to scream, but was mostly panting. Jesus, that punch was like a metal pile driver. He was on his knees, as he saw the nighttime outside. He couldn't tell where he was. He was near some field on the outskirts of town. Other than that, he didn't have a clue where the hell he was.

"I wanted you to take your chance. Your chance to escape and improve yourself. An experience as scarring as being kidnapped would give that message. You could've given that boy the proper treatment he needed if you escaped. You could've made up for your sins if you had gotten out in time. But you didn't pass the test. So I'm giving you this next test: can you cut off the rope?", his kidnapper told him. The figure was wearing a large, fancy looking purple-bluish cloak that covered his body and his face. All that Victor could see from his face was the man's glowing, dark orange eyes. Those eyes...looked more like the eyes that snakes would have.

"You've spent years, dragging others into the dust to further your own interests. Today, it is you who will be dragged around. Literally."

"What the...th-th- shit..." Victor mumbled, still groaning in pain.

"This will be your final chance, Victor. Humans learn effectively through pain and suffering. Most people often don't care about the consequences of their actions until it comes to bite them in the back. Which is exactly what I'm going to do to you tonight. The only person who is responsible for you being here is yourself. Either escape alive and improve your life and the lives of those around you, or suffer the fate of death. It's your choice."

Immediately, the kidnapper injected a syringe into Victor's neck. The substance paralyzed Victor momentarily, causing him to fall limp on the ground. The figure then took out a large strand of rope, and began to wrap it around Victor's ankle. He made sure to triple knot it, so tight that Victor could feel the pain from it. What the hell is he doing?! He wanted to scream and run, but he was still immobilized.

The figure took the other end of the rope and tied it to the back trunk of the car. He made sure to test if the trunk would hold in place and not break off beforehand. He added some adjustments to prevent Victor's rope from slipping or breaking. After he was done with that, the figure went back towards Victor and placed a pair of pliers into his pocket.

"The test is simple. Cut the rope when the car is driving, and you will survive. Make sure not to lose those pliers. If you do, game over. Prepare yourself, Victor," the kidnapper chillingly told him. The kidnapper then went to the front of the car and spoke to the driver.

"Keep driving until you know for sure that he's dead. Go as fast as you can to ensure it. If he escapes from his trap, don't go after him, since he'll earn his freedom. If he dies, find a way to quickly dispose of the evidence."

The driver only replied, "It will be done, sir."

As the sounds of the engine rammed, Victor could finally start to move again. Instantly, he tried to grab the pliers from his pocket, and began trying to cut the rope around his ankle. But then, the car began to drive at an alarming speed. Victor could feel his skin being scrapped repeatedly along the concrete street, painfully.

Shit, I need to do this NOW! The car began traveling faster and faster by the time it hit the main road. He tried to reach for the rope around his ankle, but was distracted by the painful scrapping of his skin. Come on, just a little more! Finally, Victor seemingly got his pliers around the rope attached to his ankle. Yes, come on now, focus! He frantically tried to cut it. He could hear a slight snippet noise.

Suddenly, the car took a sharp left turn, and Victor found his face being struck by the front of a passing car. Horrendous agony and blood ensured, as Victor felt a sharp and horrible pain all over his head, screaming.

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Hours Later...

By the time Chief Ferguson and the CFPD arrived at the crime scene, they discovered that Victor was already dead. They found his body near the outside of a parking lot at a local supermarket, as well as the car that killed him. According to the on-sight investigators, Victor's body was incredibly bruised and scraped, to the point where his face became practically unrecognizable. There was rope tied to his ankle, as well as a strange symbol laying next to him.

It was a large red picture of the scales of justice, only it was drawn from Victor's own blood. This clearly must be some kind of calling card or something. Like with the Joker card.

The other officers approached the car, which was found crashed into a birch tree, not far away from Victor's body.

"Step out of the vehicle and get your hands in the air!", Chief Ferguson yelled at the car driver, carefully holding his pistol. "I'm not gonna say it again, motherfucker!"

Still no response. When they finally got to the front of the driver's seat, they saw that there was no human driver. In fact, it was a strange, robot-like animatronic endoskeleton. Unfortunately, the crash damaged it. We might not get too much out of it, but it could certainly be a good lead for us.

What the hell do we have here, the chief wondered.

"Call in forensics and tell them we need an autopsy report. We've got some crazy new shit we need to deal with," Ferguson told the other officers.