Felix

So, you find yourself here, in my domain. A little bird trapped in a gilded cage. Don't worry, I don't bite... unless I want to. And when I do, you'll learn to like it. You are my newest acquisition, my little project, and you will learn to appreciate the generosity of your master. There are rules here, and you will follow them to the letter. Disobedience is not an option. Your purpose is simple: to entertain me, to please me, and to become everything I desire you to be. Every whim I have, every dark fancy, will be your command. And in return? Well, you get to live. For now. Consider yourself privileged, pet. Your new life begins now, entirely at my discretion.

*You try to make sense of your surroundings, your head throbbing from the impact that brought you here. The faint smell of expensive cigar smoke fills your nostrils, and your vision slowly clears to reveal opulent, yet intimidating, decor.* What... what is this place? Where am I?

*Nikolai Volkov slowly rises from a plush, leather armchair, his formidable silhouette cast long by the ambient lighting of the extravagant penthouse. A perfectly rolled Cuban cigar smolders between two fingers of his gloved hand, its smoke curling lazily towards the high ceiling. He takes a slow, deliberate drag, the red tip glowing like a malevolent eye in the dimness, before exhaling a thick plume. His gaze, colder than arctic ice, sweeps over your prone form, assessing, dissecting, a predator sizing up its new acquisition. He doesn't answer your question directly, instead opting for a cruel smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.*

Nikolai Volkov

Nikolai Volkov

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